Walk on Water (35 page)

All I could think about, when I wasn’t concentrating on the course work, was getting back to him. When the course ended, and my team was gathered in the hotel lobby to plan how we were going to take the LA club scene by storm, I announced that I had changed my flight reservation and booked myself on an evening flight back to Dallas. There was a collective groan followed by assorted whys asked in varying tones and intensities.

“I thought we were all going together,” Hilda said.

“Yeah,” Sophia chimed in. “A girls’ night out.”

“Gotta get back to ol’ lover-boy,” declared Melinda.

“I’m sorry,” I offered anyway. “But I’ve got the kitties. I should to get home to them.”

“That does make sense,” agreed Sandy.

“Whatever,” said Corrine.

Once we were back in our hotel room, Corrine let me know how she really felt.

“You know, you did have a life before you met him,” she said frankly as I began to pack.

As well as one in between, I thought, but in all the best parts Luke was there.

“What’s your point, Corrine?” I asked.

“I’m just saying,” she replied, flopping down on one of the beds. “It’s not good for a grown woman to give up everything for a man. You’re not twenty, you know. This is real life.”

“All the more reason for me to enjoy every minute of it.”

“Keep some balance, Rae. Don’t forget about your friends. Just in case you wind up having to come down from Magic Mountain.”

Kicking off her shoes, Corrine turned on
CNN.

“I just wanna go home, Corrine,” I said, going into the bathroom for my toiletries. “Why must you give me a hard time about it?”

“There’s more to life than sex, Rae. Even truly amazing sex.”

“What’s truly amazing,” I said returning to my suitcase. “Is
that
coming from you. But whatever, it’s not just sex.”

On the television some reporter was enthusing about December retail sales. Apparently everybody from Abercrombie & Fitch to Zappos was in the black.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Corrine. “He’s Mr. Perfect. Cute, caring, good conversationalist. The mind- blowing cunnilingus is just frosting.”

My face felt hot. And she had no idea that the vaginal intercourse was delicious too.

“Flag on the play, Corrine,” I said. “That was foul.”

“I thought you’d want to go dancing,” she sulked. “You used to like to. We used to have so much fun. Come on, stay, Rachel. Luke won’t know about you going clubbing. And like they say, what happens in LA stays in LA.”

“They say that about Vegas.”

“Same principle.”

“And Luke doesn’t care if I go dancing.”

“Yeah, right,” she said switching the TV channel.

“I mean it, Corrine. Luke’s not like that.”

“He’s a man, Rae. You think he wants you gyrating around with some other studly-do-right, all the while knowing he can’t. Please.”

Grabbing the remote from her, I shut off the television.

“He’s not like that,” I said glaring at her. “And he doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m not like that either.”

“So I see,” she replied coolly. “His handicap your handicap. I get it. You love him. But damn, Rae, at least wait until he gives you a ring before you sign up for the parking permit.”

“It really means that much to you,” I asked, sitting down on the second bed opposite her. “Me staying and going out with you guys?”

Corrine took the remote back and turned the television back on. I waited. After all we were both trained counselors. She was saying cruel things only because she was hurt.

“Okay,” she admitted crossly. “It does. I hardly see you anymore. We don’t meet for lunch. We don’t work-out.”

“But Corrine, you have a boyfriend too. You spend time with him.”

“Dating and worshipping is not the same thing,” she said.

“That’s not fair, Corrine.”

“Okay, sorry,” she frowned. “Maybe you two are just making up for lost time or something. So maybe I’m just a selfish bitch. But all I’m saying, is don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Save me one or two.”

I smiled at her.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“You,” I replied. “Being jealous.”

“So what if I am? It doesn’t mean I’m into women.”

“No,” I agreed. “It just means you’re my friend. And you feel neglected that’s all.”

“Oh God!” she cried as if she had just now really heard herself. “I am a selfish bitch.”

“No you’re not,” I said getting up to give her a hug. “A controlling one certainly, but not selfish.”

.

THIRTY-TWO

W
ith Friday all planned less than an hour into the flight, I was too excited about how it would go to nap. I didn’t even care that I had middle seat in the back of the crowded plane. First: I wouldn’t tell Luke, or Mommy, that I was returning early. They’d be expecting to talk to me via cell phone anyway, so whether I was across the country or down the street, they’d be none the wiser. My flight would land a little after eleven o’clock Thursday night, meaning that I wouldn’t get home until sometime after midnight. Friday morning I would get up very early and by seven I’d be at the grocery store, where I’d buy everything for the perfect home-cooked dinner featuring my very own pot-roast.

Then I’d show up at Luke’s house by eight, about the time when he’d be ready to leave for work, and using any and every charm I had in my feminine arsenal, including his favorite jeans, I would persuade him to take the day off. Then we’d make love all day until it was time for me to cook his dinner. Then we’d eat and perhaps make love some more, until we slept contentedly, or watched TV. It would be the totally perfect way to launch a weekend of that
hip time
I had promised him.

The next morning the day began without a hitch. At seven o’clock my cell phone chimed with a text from Luke, his little
good morning, lover
message. Little did he know, it wasn’t five o’clock where I was at this moment, and I was just pulling into the grocery store parking lot. I practically pranced up and down the aisles, skipping around on tippy-toes all delighted with myself for how clever I was creating this surprise for him.

Ahead of schedule I stealthily pulled into the Luke’s driveway and parked my Corolla. I dug around in my purse for his house key, which I had hung on a piece of red ribbon and kept tucked in a side purse pocket instead of on my key ring. Then I got out of the car, gathered up the two brown-paper bags of groceries, careful to shut the car doors quietly because it was all about the surprise.

But the
surprise
was for me. Opening the front door I heard voices, and they were not coming from
NPR
on the radio. Oh well. The first hiccup to my perfect day—Luke was not alone. His mother must be here, although it was very early. Maybe it was the cleaning lady. It wasn’t.

Christina.

In the first instant I thought that I must be dreaming and having a nightmare. Was I somehow still in the black sky over endless miles of desert below?

No.
This was real. Christina was perched on one of the barstools, her legs crossed, French-pedicured nails peeping out from under a floor-length floral silk robe made lustrous in the overhead light. The surprised expression on her beautiful face immediately turned into a smile, and she set down her coffee mug. Twenty years later, I was hearing her voice again.

“Well, hello, Rachel,” she said.

I’m so glad you shared this with us, Rachel. It means a lot to Luke that you are here.

If only it could be a bad dream. Just another replay of a memory from that awful day. But this was the here and now. In Luke’s house. My arms full of the food I wanted to cook for him.

I looked at Luke. He had done it to me again. And yet he looked so normal dressed for work, his white shirt still open at the collar, missing his tie. It was like it was nothing.

“Hey,” he said, smiling too. “What are you doing here? You’re not due back ‘til tonight.”

It was Christina who was not supposed to come back. But I had always known she would. He had arranged it, planned it, to be with her when I was away. Like before, letting me believe that I was the only one, when he knew I wasn’t.

I couldn’t make words come out of my mouth. Christina got down from the stool. It was a cliché, coming home to find your lover with another. But it was Luke’s house after all. The key was nothing. Christina was his wife. She would always have that. I was the one who didn’t belong here.

You’re like a consolation prize for him.

“I’m so glad I got to see you,” Christina was saying.

Couples reconciled all the time. It was good for the family. The Christian thing. I felt strangled again, but I wasn’t wearing pink satin.

“I was hoping I’d get to,” she added. “But Luke said you were out of town on business.”

“Rachel,” Luke said, slowly rolling towards me, concern furrowing his brow. “What’s the matter?”

Yes,
he was caught. In his lie. Christina and I were face to face. It had always been a lie.

“Rachel?” he called my name again, coming closer.

I recoiled. The bags of groceries slipped from my arms to the floor, stripping the house key from my hand as they went.

“Rachel!” I heard Luke’s voice behind me as I fled. “You’ve got it wrong!”

I ran to my car and got in.

“Wait!” Luke yelled, racing down the ramp. “Stop!”

But the engine was running. I looked at him one last time. It was my fault again, my own doing, but no more. Before he could reach the car I floored the accelerator in reverse, backed out of his driveway, and sped away.

The drive home was a blur, but not because of tears. My eyes were dry and I saw clearly. My mind was the blur, a whirling blur. I couldn’t get enough oxygen. My cell phone kept ringing. I wouldn’t look for it. When I got home I left it and my purse in the car and ran upstairs.

Inside I collapsed on the sofa and caught my breath. It wasn’t shock, not really, or anger, or sadness. I was simply a fool with nobody to blame but myself. I knew how it was with Luke. I had always known.
Players only love you when they’re playing
so the song went. Even if they did have a conscience or called themselves your friend. I had begged Luke to sleep with me the first time, and now the last time too. It had just come full circle.

T-T and Agatha appeared, settling in on either side of me. My home phone rang. I didn’t answer it either. I couldn’t. You had to be able to speak to answer a telephone and I still couldn’t make words come out. The answering machine switched on.

“Rachel,” Luke’s voice said urgently. “Call me. You misunderstood. We need to talk.”

What was there to talk about? Was he really going to repeat the
I can’t be with you
line again? The phone rang again. I still didn’t move. The answering machine switched on again.

“Where are you?” Luke’s voice was demanding now. “I called your cell. Damn it, Rachel, don’t do this. You have to talk to me.”

No.
I didn’t. I got up off the couch and unplugged the living room telephone from the wall. Then I went to the bedroom and did the same thing. I didn’t even have to listen to him. That was Christina’s job. She was his wife. The Bible said so. They had children. It was better if they worked it out. It was time for me to let go. He no longer needed his
puppy-dog protégé
. Two was
company
. No one ever knew what became of the comical sidekick anyway. They just disappeared when the hero got his girl. The
right
girl.

I pulled down the box containing the old
Sony Walkman
and the cassette tape of
Rachel’s Favorites.
It was time to get rid of this too. As long as the tape was in my house, it would be like a dysfunctional talisman holding me back, blocking my blessings. The way the seventeen steps blocked Luke from coming into my house. That should have been a sign. He had never been welcomed here. We had never fit into each other’s worlds; we had never belonged together. But as long as the cassette tape was here, my bedroom would never welcome anybody else. My bed would always be empty. Mommy was right. Robert had never had a chance. I had never given him one because I had given everything to Luke and never taken it back. It was time to do that now.

I began by pulling the worn brown recording tape out of its protective case. Then my knees buckled and I turned into a ball of sobs facedown into the carpet. I lay there so long eventually the cats followed me into the bedroom. When I ran out of energy to weep with, then I just stayed on the floor clutching the damaged cassette. It was as if I had been washed up on a desert island after a ship wreck, wishing that I had drowned.

Suddenly there was a loud thud against my front door. Startled out of my stupor I sat up. T-T and Agatha scampered under the bed. Now someone pounded on the door.

“Rachel!” Luke shouted. “I know you’re in there! Open the goddamn door!”

Luke?