The Husband Diet, page 21
Julian grabbed his opportunity to get out of dodge and get back to more impelling issues – in other words, sex. So I let go of my bone. For now.
‘It’s nice to sleep with a redhead,’ he grinned.
‘I’m sure you’ve had lots of redheads in your past.’
‘Not real redheads.’ He grinned again, and I slapped him playfully on the arm.
‘Some gentleman you are, spilling the ladies’ secrets.’
‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ he said, pulling me close.
‘Your hair is died, too?’ I offered, and he whispered into my ear.
‘Ti amo, Erica. I love you.’
And I love you, I wanted to say. If I could do that, it would be like the first breath I’d taken since I was born, as if I’d been living my life underwater. Just one last obstacle and I’d have broken the surface.
‘Really? Since when?’
‘Ever since you fell off the chair in my office.’
Wow. And to think I even had a stuffy nose that day, on top of that horribly thick brown dress and that awful coat. But I needed to believe this whole wonderful Julian thing was true.
What would happen now to Julian’s spontaneous ‘I love you’ when I started snoring or thrashing around like, as Ira was often fond of saying, a pig on a spit? That would certainly be the last of him. And then what would happen to my ‘I love you’? I wasn’t wasting any of those on a man again. At least not until I was good and ready. Until I knew for sure where he stood and how far he would come with me. Literally.
But for now, I’d enjoy the sex and try not to fall asleep at work. It was going to be a long life of sleepless nights if Julian and I were going to be doing this on a regular basis. For once in my life, sleepless nights were a good thing.
‘What are you thinking?’ he whispered into the hollow of my collarbone.
I hesitated. Did Julian need to know everything that passed through my mind? Probably not. But the mistake I’d made with Ira was that he knew nothing of my thoughts, nor I of his. I’d find a happy medium this time, however long (or short) this relationship lasted.
‘You really don’t want to know.’
‘I do if it’s bothering you,’ he answered softly.
‘I was thinking about… my sleeping habits. I’m a real earthquake.’
I felt him grin against my neck as he pulled me closer. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I sleep like a log.’
‘No, I mean it. I talk in my sleep.’
‘So do I.’
‘You do?’
‘Real long monologues. It was time I had someone to have a chat with.’
I grinned. ‘Ira didn’t like to chat in bed. He’d always fall asleep when I talked to him.’ A bit too much information?
‘That won’t be a problem seeing that you and I are both perfectly capable of continuing our conversation in our sleep,’ he said, his voice mirthful.
‘Silly,’ I whispered.
‘Tell you what. Whichever one of us falls asleep first has to do the dishes the next evening. How does that sound?’
‘Like a dream,’ I grinned, caressing his chest.
*
The next day, as I helped my aunts do some prep work during a brief visit to the restaurant, I filled them in on Julian, minus the sex, obviously.
‘It’s a sign.’ Zia Maria leaned into me as I helped her dice red peppers for tonight’s special, caponata.
‘Absolutely,’ Zia Martina chimed in, lifting her face from the sink she was happily scrubbing away at. ‘Now she can finally think about her own life with Julian.’
‘Will you two stop it?’ said Zia Monica as she came into the back kitchen and dropped her bag on a bench then stormed into the pantry. ‘If she’s not ready, she’s not ready.’
‘What’s eating you?’ I asked as she whooshed by.
‘Monica’s in love,’ Zia Martina teased, and my eyebrows shot up. ‘Major crush on Father Frank.’
I poured the peppers into the pan with frying onions and potatoes, ready to add the capers. ‘Father Frank? You’re kidding?’
‘I wish I were,’ Zia Martina said. ‘She’s been miserable for a while now.’
Both sisters shrugged.
‘It’s a big secret,’ Zia Maria said. ‘We’re not supposed to know.’
As if love were a shameful thing that needed to be hidden. Boy, did I know a thing or two about that.
*
As I walked into my kitchen at home to retrieve my Christmas shopping list, Ira came out of the spare room with another suitcase. He’d been packing like a madman since I’d discovered him with his lover. One more week and he’d be out. One more week to prepare the kids and I still didn’t know how I was going to do it.
‘I’m leaving now,’ Ira said, his voice barely audible.
My whole body was traversed by icy claws that racked my legs, ripped into my stomach and my lungs, squeezing real hard while my entire world, which was already pretty much off its axis, started to spin drunkenly.
Now? He had no idea how much pain and unhappiness he’d caused me during all our years together, but leaving us on the day before Christmas Eve? What the hell was wrong with him? Wasn’t he thinking about his children at all?
‘We’ve already had this conversation. You’re supposed to wait until after Christmas,’ I said.
Ira lowered his eyes and sighed. ‘We open the gifts after dinner tomorrow and then I go.’
‘Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You can’t abandon them on Christmas Eve – you’re going to scar them for life. You owe it to Maddy and Warren.’
He only shook his head. ‘I can’t. I already don’t know what to tell them.’
I shrugged, feeling numb. ‘The truth. That you’ve found someone more important to you than them.’
‘Erica, let’s at least be civil, OK?’
Civil? For years he’d treated me like I didn’t exist, sighing in frustration at the mere sight of me, and now he wanted to be civil? I pushed my chin out and straightened my hair. My messy hair that he’d used to put behind my ear. But that was long gone. Gone too were the caresses, the laughs, the evenings we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. That was a long, long time ago. Now, we were two total strangers hardly able to look each other in the eye and who couldn’t wait to go separate ways.
‘Are you picking up the kids from your mom’s?’ he asked.
I sighed. ‘They’re at Paul’s. He’s bringing them back later today.’
He nodded. ‘OK. I have to go now,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
I waited for him to clear the driveway, then I drove to the supermarket, determined to cook the best meal ever, so that years from now the kids would remember this Christmas for the amazing turkey, sweets and gifts and not because their dad had left them. I’d protect them from the pain, the heartache.
As I ambled through the bright red-and-white aisles lit like Santa’s sled, through the merry music, the colors, the bright lights, happy snowmen and Santas climbing chimneys and Rudolphs jumping over roofs, I wished we’d officially told the kids about us so we could spend this Christmas all together. But hopefully, there would be more Christmases ahead of us.
29
Jingle Bell Hell
Paul and I made it back to the house at the exact same time, the kids dancing around me like I were a campfire.
‘Alright, you two. Go wash up and change.’ I forced a laugh as I gave them both a quick peck.
Paul took a few bags off me and followed me into the kitchen.
‘Well? Did you do it? How was he? Tell me!’
‘Thanks for picking up the kids,’ I said as I put the food away.
Paul waved his hand in the air. ‘Never mind them. Spill!’
‘First things first. I caught Ira and his secretary here the other day.’
Paul’s jaw fell open. ‘What? Screwing here?’
‘No, just packing. Anyway, it’s Maxine.’
Paul gasped, his eyes wide. ‘Pristine Maxine? No!’
‘Yeah. She’s at least twelve years younger. And yes, I slept with Julian. But last night wasn’t our first time.’
Paul hugged me, jumping up and down as if he’d won the lottery. ‘Oh, Erica, you dark horse, you. This is amazing! Tell!’
‘Some other time. For now, I have to deal with the fact that Ira’s leaving on Christmas Eve. The kids will be devastated.’
Paul waved a hand in the air. ‘They’ll get over it. We both know you’re all better off without him. Forget Ira – you’ve got yourself a real man now. What’s he like in bed? I have to know.’
I stopped and placed some ready-made dough on the counter and thought about it. What was Julian like in bed? Hot. Tender. Sexy. Extremely selfless. ‘It was out of this world,’ I gushed.
‘Good for you!’ Paul whooped. ‘Is he big?’
‘Paul!’
‘Oh, get off your high horse. Details!’
I beamed at him. ‘He’s absolutely perfect.’
Paul punched the air. ‘Hallelujah! The amazing Erica is back!’
She certainly was. And an hour later, the new Erica went out and bought herself a new bed. And shopped for gifts. And cleaned like crazy – even the windows – and baked the best food, including cookies and cakes.
In only a few hours, the hour of my children’s loss of their innocence, I’d take pictures of the kids and their father so they wouldn’t miss him too much. But deep down, I knew that he wouldn’t be all that missed. His presence in the house consisted only of his computer and his gazillion shirts and suits hanging in the closet. The wooden model planes hanging in Warren’s room were my effort, just like the fairy wings hanging on the back of Maddy’s bedroom door. And then I realized. Ira was leaving nothing to his children – no kind memories, no afternoons of laughter. Bupkes.
So it was settled. I was selfishly looking forward to coming up for air after years of apnea. I bought the biggest tree I could find. Warren and Maddy helped me decorate it with all their artwork and my grandmother’s old decorations and Nativity scenes, and when we finally plugged it in, Maddy gasped in awe. Such a cute ‘ohhh’, her big green eyes wide, while Warren grinned sheepishly. He was still a little boy, although he tried to be tough sometimes. My heart hurt for them.
Lunch with my entire family on the 24th was my last obstacle. After that, I wouldn’t have to pretend that everything was thumbs up. Zias Maria, Martina and Monica were there every year, beautiful and cheery. God, what I wouldn’t have given to be like one of them. No man in sight (except for maybe Father Frank) and they didn’t appear to have a care in the world.
Lunch went by very festively, contrary to my expectations. My nephews and nieces branched off to play with Warren and Madeleine as Vince helped me make coffee in the kitchen.
Later, Judy helped me with the dishes. Mom, as always, kept a strategic distance, lounging on the sofa, my dad massaging her feet. Poor old fool that he was, hopelessly in love with the beauty goddess who had blessed him with her attention and an ‘I do’ so many years ago, making him the proudest, if not the happiest man alive. Good for them. I wondered how they did it.
‘So, how’s Trey, your new toyboy?’ I asked Judy, drying my wet hands on my apron. ‘Are you and Steve splitting up after Christmas, too?’
‘Shush,’ she hissed. ‘Steve doesn’t know about him! And what do you mean, “too”?’
I went back to my sudsy sink, ignoring her, and she sucked in her breath as she reached a conclusion. The wrong one.
‘Shut up! You’re finally leaving Ira?’
I turned to look at her and shook my head. ‘He’s leaving me, tonight after we open the presents,’ I managed, wiping my eyes on a tea towel.
I wasn’t crying for me. Hopefully, I had Julian to console me and a new life ahead. It was the kids I felt sorry for.
Again, she gasped. ‘He’s leaving you? What’s the matter with you? You should have left him long ago! I swear, Erica, I don’t recognize you anymore!’
‘A little louder, please. Marcy hasn’t heard you yet,’ I croaked.
Judy sat me down. ‘Honey, this can’t be right. Why would he leave you?’
‘I caught him with his secretary.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Judy muttered. ‘Oh, well, his loss, honey. Just make sure he pays you alimony. Now, dry your eyes and let’s bring these desserts out, huh? Trey is going to have to work me out like crazy to shift these extra calories.’
And that was my sister’s entire contribution to my personal tragedy.
*
Hours later, the dreaded Christmas dinner with the four of us was quiet but for Madeleine chatting happily, seating herself – like she used to when she was a toddler and things were very different – on Ira’s leg, giggling shyly and unaware of the tragedy that was about to strike her. I swallowed back the tears as I watched my little angel rest her head on his chest. The place I’d rested against so many times when I was younger. I hated him for being unable to keep our family together.
If Ira had given me that extra time, I’d have come up with a way to soften the blow. I’d have somehow suggested that this was going to be their last Christmas with both parents. I don’t know what I’d have done. Whatever it was, I hadn’t done it and now it was too late.
As we sat around the fire, I sensed the moment was dangerously near. No. Please, not yet, I pleaded with him silently with my eyes, but, as always, he wasn’t looking at me.
I jumped up to get my camera. These would be the last pictures of us all together. Ira pulled Maddy and Warren close as I sat next to them, grinning – or rather squinting, to keep from crying – into the lens as the auto-shoot clicked, blinding me.
‘We’ll frame that one and put it on the mantel,’ I said cheerfully, when all I wanted was to hang Ira instead – hang him upside by his big toes from the highest branch of our Christmas tree, for all to see what a useless piece of shit he was.
Warren kept stealing Ira and me glances as if he knew what was coming.
‘Stay until tomorrow morning. You can tell the kids then,’ I whispered when I caught him alone in the kitchen, my heart in my mouth, knowing it was imminent. I couldn’t bear it.
Ira stared at me and for a moment he seemed to give in, like someone under hypnosis.
He ran his hands over his face and looked at me. ‘I’m sorry, Erica. I’ve made up my mind. One more night isn’t going to change anything. I’m sorry. I don’t love you.’
‘But it’s not about us, you idiot!’ I insisted to his back as he turned and left me there.
You can imagine what happened at the stroke of eleven, after Warren and Maddy opened their presents. I won’t even bother putting you through it. Suffice to say that when he sat them down to tell them their parents were splitting up, Maddy started to cry, I mean really bawl, and begged him to stay.
‘I can’t,’ he answered, biting his lip.
Apparently, he’d promised Maxine he’d be there by the stroke of midnight. That was his only explanation.
Warren sat quietly, eyeing me, then him. ‘You’re nothing but an asshole!’ he bellowed suddenly, knocking his chair over as he shot to his feet. ‘We’re sooo much better off without you!’ he continued, breathing hard, his face flushed. ‘So go! You’re nothing but a loser anyway!’
‘Warren…’ I said, thinking how similar my kid was to me. I was, to be honest and horrible, so proud of him.
‘Dead weight!’ Warren finished. ‘We don’t need you! Mom is a perfect mother and father!’
Before Ira could react, Warren scooped up Maddy and said, ‘We’re going to bed. This is the last time I want to see you. Ever again.’ And up he went, his sobbing little sister’s legs wrapped around his waist.
Having packed his clothes, there was nothing left for Ira – or me – to do or say.
‘My lawyer will be in contact with yours,’ he said.
‘Yep, ciao,’ I said without looking at him and closed the door after him, catching his heel in my haste to close that chapter.
I tiptoed to the kids’ rooms, but they were pretending to be asleep. I wasn’t worried. I could deal with that tomorrow. The important thing was that Ira was gone for good. Everything else would be easy from now on.
I went to the kitchen, poured myself a very large glass of inzolia wine and then sank into a nice warm bubble bath, breathing deeply – deeper than I had in years.
On Christmas morning, Warren and a sniffling, listless Maddy got up to set the table for me without my even having to ask. It was going to be tough on them, but I knew in the end we were going to be just fine.
After we’d all opened our presents, Paul handed me a big box with a card that read:
Something to look forward to. It’s never too late for anything, sunshine. Merry Christmas.
Love Paul.
I tore at the packaging and gasped at the sight of the pale burgundy chiffon. I hadn’t seen this dress in years. And even if I had to appreciate the irony of how that dress had marked the beginning and the end of my marriage, that wasn’t why it meant so much to me. It was important because Paul had remembered our youth and our lifelong friendship. And he’d recognized that I’d made so many efforts to fit back into a similar dress. I never thought he’d get it back for me. Paul. My best friend. My only friend. If you didn’t count my lover, Julian.
30
New Year’s Revolution
‘Why on earth would you even consider going back to Italy when your grandparents made so many sacrifices to move all the way here?’ my mother asked.
I sighed. Years of dealing with her and still she didn’t understand me. I had to learn to pick my battles with her.
‘Because I think my family would be very happy there,’ I said simply.
‘You can’t run away from your problems, Erica.’
Said by the woman who had always been sheltered from life.
‘I’m not leaving my problems behind. Only Ira.’ Which was technically the same thing.
‘Ask him back.’
