18 You’re Kidding Me

18

you’re kidding me

Danielle

It’s 9 a.m. Sunday morning and I’m packed and eager to go to the apartment. It’s not that I want to get away from the kids, it’s that I don’t want to wait on Alex. I don’t want him to dictate what time the whole switcheroo is going to happen, so I text him first.

ME: I’m leaving the boys alone for a bit. Gonna go to Sprouts then the apartment. Are you close?

ALEX: I’m two minutes away but the cleaning people are on their way to the apartment. They’ll probably be there for a while.

ME: It’s fine. Leaving now.

ALEX: Copy.

I hate when he texts copy. The boys aren’t even phased by me leaving, so I kiss them and leave the house. Instead of going to Sprouts first, I head to the apartment to see what food is left in the cabinets. When I arrive, Candy is walking into the complex at the same time. It looks like she’s returning from working a night shift.

“Hi,” she says cheerily.

“Hi,” I say, and slow down to walk beside her.

“Geez, girlie, you change your hair color like I change my underwear.”

“Hmm?” I say absently, not really paying attention.

“Light last week, then dark, now light again. Must cost you a fortune.”

“No, just once,” I say with a smile.

“Doggone it, really? I could swear your hair was dark last night when I saw you two.”

My stomach drops. I stop walking. My heart is beating out of my chest. I feel like I’m going to pass out. Candy stops next to me on the walkway.

I can barely get the words out. My body is weak. “That wasn’t me last night, Candy.”

She’s staring, trance-like. She cocks her head to the side. Her voice gets quieter and slower, “I’m not following you, honey.”

I take a deep breath in and exhale audibly. “God, this is hard. Alex and I are divorced. We share this apartment on the days we aren’t with the kids. They stay at our family home. I haven’t been here for four days, Candy. He and I won’t ever be here at the same time.”

“Oh,” she says, wearing a penitent look. “Oh, honey, I’m—”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.” I’m having some weird crisis. There’s still hope in me that it wasn’t Alex she saw. I hope the first days he was at the apartment he didn’t break the one rule we made. “Are you sure it was him? I mean, I don’t care, but are you sure? ”

“Yeah, sweetie, I’m sure. They went up the stairs to your apartment. I’m sorry.”

“It’s his business, it’s just that he’s not supposed to have women here.” I start crying quietly. I can’t stop the tears.

“It’s hard, sweets. I’ve been divorced twice. Would have been three times, but the last asshole dropped dead in line at the supermarket. But the first, that was the hardest. I really loved him.”

“Then why’d you get a divorce?” I’m sniffling, but genuinely curious to hear her answer.

“You don’t always stop loving ’em just ’cause you can’t stand ’em.”

She’s right. “Ain’t that the truth,” I whisper. In this moment, I decide that I’m going to have to adopt a different persona if I’m going to be a divorcée. I stand up straighter and put my shoulders back. “Thanks, Candy. I’m gonna be fine.”

We hug and then I head up to my apartment, wondering what went on in there the night before. I’m hoping he just hung out with someone. I don’t want to think about his sexual escapades in the bed I sleep in, or the couch I sit on. I would never have pinned Alex for a guy who picks someone up and then screws them the same night, but I guess I don’t really know him anymore. Who knows, maybe he’s been seeing her for a while. We’ve essentially been divorced for a long time.

I notice the cleaning people are arriving and walking toward the stairs, so I go inside and leave the door open. It’s not messy. There aren’t bras hanging from the ceiling fan. I doubt it even needs cleaning. I walk into the bedroom and notice Alex has taken the sheets off the bed and left the new sheets folded for the cleaning people to put on.

Wasn’t he the one who said we didn’t need to change the sheets? I guess when you’re boinking some woman all night in the bed I said was off-limits, it’s the least you can do.

The dirty sheets are piled in the laundry basket. I can’t believe he left them for the cleaning people to wash. He should have taken them and washed them himself. I hate him.

“Hello, ma’am?” says one of the cleaning women.

“Hi, yes, actually, there’s nothing really to do here,” I tell her. “You can go.” I have time on my hands to clean the tiny apartment. It’ll keep my mind off things.

About every three seconds I get an overwhelmingly nauseous feeling like a relentless set of waves. I shouldn’t care. I’m divorced. The cleaning crew is gone. I close the door and head back into the bedroom. I’m just staring at the bed, furious.

Whenever I get down about anything, I throw myself into something else as a distraction. I cannot waste this day crying, so I walk over to the laundry basket. I’m going to take the sheets to the washers and go to Sprouts. I can handle this. I don’t want to see the dirty sheets and imagine what might have happened on them. I want to wash them and put them away.

As I reach in, I notice Alex has also left his pants. I’m sure it’s a mistake. He wouldn’t leave this for me, but he did have a late night, so maybe he was counting on the cleaning people to take care of it.

When I pull out the pants, something falls onto the floor. What is that? A business card?

It belongs to a Dr. Valeria Rivera, a pediatric oncologist in Redondo Beach. This has to be her from last night, or maybe not. Maybe he met her at the hospital? He does know a lot of doctors. I turn the card around and see she has scribbled, Call me, Alex. I had a great time tonight .

I’ve always had visceral, emotional reactions, but I didn’t expect to vomit on the floor. My head is spinning with scenarios. I clean up the mess while chanting in my head, Do not sleuth. Do not look her up, Dani. Do not do it unless you want to cry all day. You already know she’s a doctor. That’s enough. Why couldn’t she be a bimbo? Uneducated? A barfly?

It’s not so much that I am jealous of the woman or mad about him bringing her to the apartment, though that does piss me off; I’m more jealous of Alex, on a competitive level. Why is he finding someone first? Why does it seem easy for him? Oh right, because men look distinguished as they age and women just look old.

As if I’m being controlled like a marionette, I walk over to thedesk in the corner, sit down, and open my computer. I can’t help it.

I google Dr. Valeria Rivera .

I hate what I am seeing so much that I’m squeezing my hands into fists so tightly, my nails are piercing my skin. She’s not just a doctor for kids with cancer, she’s a highly revered doctor…and she’s beautiful . I click on her picture to zoom in.

Why am I doing this to myself?

There is something innately sexy about her. She has long dark hair, big full lips, and flawless skin. Surprisingly, I’m not crying. I just feel sick to my stomach. I zoom in more and notice she has fairly large ears. That’s what I’ll focus on.

I dial Alicia.

“Hello, babe.”

“Do you have a minute?” I say in a dull tone.

“Yeah, I’m at the office, shoving food in my face. Working on a freakin’ Sunday. I can take a break for a bit, though. What’s up?” she says.

Everything spills out at lightning speed, “Alex fucked a hot doctor at the apartment that was supposed to be off-limits. In our bed. ”

Alicia is silent. She’s never silent. “Dani…” she says cautiously, but I stop her.

“Is this what he was waiting for?”

“It’s going to be hard at first. Be clear with him that it can’t happen at the apartment anymore. That is basic respect. Alex can afford a hotel room.”

My eyes start to water. I’m feeling sorry for myself. “It is basic respect.”

“How did you find out?” she asks.

“The neighbor thought she was me and mentioned seeing me with him last night and then I found the woman’s business card in the pocket of his pants. I googled her.”

“Dani, why were you looking through his clothes?”

“I wasn’t. His pants were in the laundry. The card fell out. Her writing was on it, saying she had fun and to call her.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” I say as tears finally escape my eyes. I can tell Alicia has stopped eating.

“He’s going to get a girlfriend, Dani. Alex isn’t the hookup type.”

“Apparently, he is,” I say. “She has massive ears though. You know what? She’s not hot at all. I mean, her ears are like a deformity, they’re so big. I have an image running through my mind on a constant loop. She’s standing on a building ledge with a fucking feather on her nose, about to take flight.”

“I think that’s an okay image to have on a loop, if you have to have one right now,” Alicia says.

I know what she’s hinting at, and of course she’s right that I’m actually picturing Alex having sex with Doctor Dumbo.

“She’s a pediatric oncologist, Alicia. She’s a goddamn saint and I’m over here making up piddling stories for a living.”

“Stop it. You have an important job. ”

“No, I really don’t. It’s inconsequential and trivial in the big scheme of things. I’m paid to lie! It’s so juvenile, it’s embarrassing.”

“Dani, you guys are divorced. He’s going to date. He’s going to probably get serious with someone else and she will meet the boys, and who knows, you might even like her.”

I can’t handle any of this .

“Lars is gay. Isn’t that weird?”

“Really? Well, I guess now there’s no question that you weren’t cheating.”

“Did you think I was?” I say.

“Not really.”

I’m offended that she had even a small doubt. “I have to go. I need to wash the sex sheets. I know he’s going to date, Lish. I just didn’t want him to do it here.”

“Be clear with him, but don’t berate him. Call me tomorrow.”

I hang up and open Facebook on my computer to find two new messages. Both are from Jacob Powell.

Jacob: Hey, Dani! How are you? You look great! I see Alicia and Mark once in a while. Hope you’re doing well.

A few days later, he wrote again.

Jacob: I saw Alicia today. Sorry to hear about the divorce. Feel free to call or text anytime if you need an ear or shoulder.

That’s not exactly what I need right now, but I’m sure he’s flexible. He’s attached his contact info, so I text him before I can give myself a moment to hesitate .

Me: Hi, Jacob. Thanks for the message on FB. Shot in the dark, but care to get a drink?

He replies almost instantly.

Jacob: Yeah, definitely. Tonight?

Me: Why not?

Jacob: Want to meet me on the Westside? I’m about to jump in the water to surf for a bit.

I haven’t even seen him yet and I already want to lick salt water off his chest. It’s been a while.

Me: Sounds good. 5 pm? Water Grill?

Jacob: It’s gonna be a nice sunset. See you at 5.

What just happened? That was too easy. I’m already nervous. I contemplate calling Alicia, but I don’t want her to know.

Despite the nerves, I have a new jolt of energy.

—

I’m running twenty minutes late, but that’s normal for me. I texted Jacob, letting him know, and he said he was sitting at the bar. I’m relieved. I don’t want to have a romantic dinner with him, don’t want to sit and stare at him from the other side of a little quaint table overlooking the ocean. This is just a drink. No different than a friend or colleague.

As I speed down the street, I think about the day Jacob broke up with me so many years ago. He told me I was too serious, and we were too young. He said he liked me so much that it scared him because he wasn’t ready to settle down. I thought about him for years after that, even after I had started dating Alex. I was heartbroken because the relationship with Jacob was meaningful to me and he’d acted the same way in the beginning. But in the end, he didn’t really care. It made him seem duplicitous. He seemed madly in love one day but had no problem breaking up with me the next. We never talked again after we split. It’s been a gazillion years.

I walk into the restaurant and head for the bar. Even from behind, I recognize him. He looks the same.

“Jacob?”

He spins around on the stool, smiling broadly. He’s attractive in a sun-kissed Southern California average-man way, and his resting face is a closed-mouth smile. The guy is just happy to breathe.

“Dani, oh my god! You’re even more beautiful.”

He was always good with compliments. I’m blushing. “Thank you.”

He stands up, throws his arms out, and scoops me into a bear hug. “It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you texted!” he says.

All the butterflies are coming back. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Sit, sit. What do you want? I’ll wave her over,” he says, gesturing toward the bartender. I’m contemplating what to drink. “Still a margarita girl?” he asks.

He remembered. In this moment, I want nothing more than to be that young margarita girl. “That sounds great!” I say.

We get our drinks and settle in. He orders appetizers, and just like when we were young, we fall into a light, fun, playful but somehow still intimate conversation. We talk about everything, even the serious stuff, but we both find a way to spin it toward a positive light. That’s what I remember about Jacob. He’s always happy, smiling…hopeful. I’m starting to get tipsy, and even though I’m working from the apartment tomorrow, I realize I still have to drive all the way back there tonight.

The sun has officially gone down. I’m on my third drink and decide to leave my car and take an Uber back to the apartment.

“Remember going to Hollywood on Saturday nights? All the bars on Sunset? We had a blast.”

“Yes, yes! I remember! Remember that girl who followed us for three blocks because she thought you were Ethan Hawke? That was hilarious!”

The laughing dies down. There’s finally a hitch in the chatter, but unlike with Alex, it’s not because one of us is mad or offended, it’s because I think we both realize how much we are enjoying each other.

“Did you plan on driving home tonight? I’m gonna order another drink—do you want one?”

“I was going to Uber home.”

“Great.” He gestures toward the bartender. “Two more, please, thanks.”

“How are you getting home?” I ask.

“I live three blocks away.”

“Well, I picked the right spot, then, didn’t I?” The giddiness is gone. There’s a subtle seriousness in the atmosphere.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re more beautiful now.” PDA is not my thing, but I can feel myself leaning toward him. He touches his thumb to my bottom lip. “Pretty lips,” he says. “Beautiful.” My mouth is just slightly open, there is so much going on in my body right now that I can barely breathe.

“You look really good too,” I say, clearly out of breath.

He smiles and then leans in and kisses me softly. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispers near my ear.

“Okay.”