A Different Kind Of Forever (18 page)

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? I’d better not forget. I’ll call him this week.”

“You’d better, ‘cause you’re right about Sharon. You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

There were five of them, sitting at an outside table at Maxwell’s, waiting for the band to start playing again. They had met at Sharon’s and walked the six blocks, and were all feeling no pain. Ginny Smith, the youngest of the group at 36, was pouring margaritas from a pitcher. Carol Coopersmith, divorced and always on the look-out, had been flirting with the waiter. Sharon had a fight with Richie before leaving and was feeling feisty. Sue and Diane had been giggling all night.

They had spent the first part of the evening catching up, comparing vacations, the kids, and the heat. When the band had started playing, they all got up on the dance floor. Maxwell’s was a popular spot with all ages, and they were not the oldest people dancing. During the seven or eight songs that played, Diane was asked to dance by three different men. She declined the offers. When the set had ended, and they were back at the table, Diane gulped another drink.

“Okay,” she announced loudly, “I have been coming here for years without incident, and tonight I get hit on three different times.” She looked around the table. “I need somebody to explain this to me.”

Carol Coopersmith leaned forward. She was very attractive, sleek blonde hair, tall and thin, brilliant blue eyes. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger.

“I have a theory,” she said. “It’s because you’re in love.”

Diane blinked as all four women looked at her. “What?”

Carol nodded. “You know how, in nature, when a female is ready to mate, she sends out something, a phoneme or something-“

“Pheromone,” Sue corrected.

“Thank you. So anyway, the female sends out this pheromone thing and every male in the neighborhood knows she’s ready for sex and comes a-calling. Well, I think it happens to us. When a woman is in love, and knows she’s going to go home and have great sex, she sends out her own little pheromone and every guy in the room smells it, and figures he might be able to get a first crack. That’s why women who aren’t dating never get approached. But women in a hot relationship are like magnets.” Carol shrugged and took a drink. “And that’s my theory.”

Diane looked around the table. Sue and Sharon were grinning. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Are you?” Ginny asked.

“Am I what?” Diane sputtered.

“Going home and having great sex?” Ginny kept a straight face, but Sue was starting to giggle.

“Of course she is,” Carol announced. “We all know who she’s been seeing. How could she not? Besides, what do you think they do together? Play chess?”

Diane was annoyed. “Now, wait a minute, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol shrugged innocently. “Listen, Diane, I say more power to you. If you can keep somebody like him waiting up for you, that’s great. But don’t try to tell us there’s actually something going on aside from sex. He’s what, not even thirty? What else could you have in common with him?”

“WHAT?” Diane leaned across the table as Sue reached over and took hold of her arm. Diane glared at Carol.

“Listen. Michael and I have tons in common. We both love Aretha and hate Prince, we both like Spanish films, we both read Eastern philosophy, and we hate pro football. We have a great time together, and I can’t believe you would think that.”

Carol blushed and looked closely at Diane. “Well, I guess I stand corrected. I didn’t think you actually, well, dated.”

Sharon had been looking at Carol critically. “What did you think, Carol? That she had him stashed in a motel room somewhere and just dropped in for servicing?”

The women all laughed as Diane rolled her eyes. “God, Carol. I mean, yeah, he’s younger, but so what? Would this be a big deal if he were twenty years older? No.”

Ginny waved a pretzel in the air. “If he were twenty years older, we probably wouldn’t be so interested in the sex part,” she said.

Sharon burst out laughing, burying her face in her hands. Sue looked at Ginny and patted her hand. “Well, Carol might still be interested,” she told Ginny soothingly.

“It’s just that dating is so different at our age,” Carol said. “Diane knows what I mean. In your twenties, you’ve got all the time in the world to date around, and you can spend time with a guy who may or may not be the one.” She shrugged. “In your forties, especially with kids, you don’t have time to fuck around, unless you want to just fuck around, you know? Come on, Diane,” she waved her glass. “Tell them. You know by the third or fourth date if a guy is going to be a wash-out. You can’t afford to waste time on a maybe. So, if you stick with a guy for any length of time, it’s either sex, or it must be pretty serious.” She tilted her head and leaned back in her chair. “So tell us, Diane,” she asked, smiling, “is it serious?”

Diane scrunched up her nose, making a face, and stared into her drink.

Sue explained. “Diane is having a hard time reconciling her two selves, the staid professor and respected mother by day, crazed groupie by night.”

“I am not a crazed groupie,” Diane said stoutly. “I’m the keyboard player’s hunny bunny.”

Ginny frowned. “Do musicians in rock bands have hunny bunnies?”

Sharon shuddered. “No. And that sound you hear is Jim Morrison rolling over in his grave. I can’t believe you still haven’t figured this out,” she said to Diane disapprovingly. “Jesus Christ, why are you so wishy-washy about this? Why don’t you just admit that you’re crazy about him?”

“Okay,” Diane said happily. “I am crazy about him.”

“Oh good,” Ginny chirped. “Can we get shots now?”

“Yes. We need to celebrate.” Sharon said as she looked around for the waiter.

“And is he crazy about you?” Carol asked.

“Shit, yes,” Sharon answered. “You should see them together. He’s a doll. He laughs at all her jokes.”

Diane looked at Sharon haughtily. “I happen to be a very funny person.”

“Not that funny, sweets. And he stares at her.”

Diane looked at her in surprise. “He does?”

Sue nodded in agreement. “Yep, he sure does. But you stare at him too, so it’s okay.”

“I do?”

Sharon was emphatic. “Oh, yeah, all the time. Face it kiddo, you’re in love.”

“Wait.” Diane felt panicked. “God, that’s what this is, right?” She chewed her lip as a shot glass of tequila was set down in front of her. “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you think? Maybe I’m in love?”

“It’s an age-old question,” Carol said sadly. “Is the sex great because you’re in love, or are you in love ‘cause the sex is so great?”

“I think the pheromones have spoken.” Ginny said, reaching for the salt shaker.
 

“Let’s just drink up in a hurry. The band is about to start again.”

It was after two in the morning when they left Maxwell’s. They walked back slowly, laughing and singing. They dropped off Ginny first, then back-tracked toward the street where Sue and Diane lived. As they approached Diane’s house, she could see Michael’s truck in the driveway.

“He’s here,” she said happily. “He drove down to see me.”

Sue squinted. “Does he have a key to your house?”

“Yep.” Diane nodded. “He sure does.”

Sharon looked at her sideways. “Do you have a key to his place?”

Diane shook her head. “I don’t need a key. He has an electric pad thingy to get in. I know the code, but Fred is always there. Fred lets me in.”

Carol had her arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Who is Fred?”

“The butler,” Sue said carefully. “Michael has a butler.”

“Ooooh, really?” Carol made a face.
 

“Yep.” Diane giggled. “I think I’m a little drunk,” she whispered loudly.

“Me too,” said Sue, “but we’re almost home.”

They went up Diane’s walk. Diane fumbled in her purse for her keys, and Sue leaned against the doorbell. Diane made shushing noises, giggling as she tried to fit the key into the lock. She was leaning her head against the door, fumbling with the lock, when the door opened and Diane stumbled forward. Michael caught her, straightening her up.

She broke into a wide smile. “Honey, I’m home,” she sing-songed.

Michael stood, shirtless, jeans low on his hips, squinting at the women. He had obviously been asleep. He looked at Diane, then at her friends, and smiled groggily.

“So, I guess you had a good time.”

Diane walked around, stood behind him, and put her arms around his waist, head on his shoulder. “We were celebrating,” she told him.

He chuckled. “Celebrating what?”

“My rhizomes,” Diane said distinctly. Sharon and Sue began to laugh. Carol held out her hand. “Hi, Michael. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. I’m Carol.”

Michael shook her hand, then looked over at Sue. “Okay, what do I do? I’ve never seen her this drunk before,” he said.

“Well,” Sue explained, “luckily, the situation is not dangerous, only embarrassing.”

“Am I embarrassing you?” Diane asked him in a loud whisper.

“Of course not,” he said with a smile. He looked sideways at her. “You’re adorable.”

Sharon sighed. “See,” she said to Carol, “I told you. Good night, Michael.”

“Good night. Hey, wait, should I walk you home? Sharon, are you going to be okay?”

“Thanks, we’ll be good,” Sharon told him. “Carol is crashing at my place, so we’ll get Sue home and stagger the rest of the way together.”
 

“Unless,” Carol purred, “it’s too much trouble, Sharon. I’d hate to impose. Maybe Michael could drop me home?”

Sharon snorted in disgust. “Forget it, babe. That ain’t workin’ here.” Sharon waved. “G’night Diane. Sleep tight.”

Michael closed the door and turned around to face Diane. She stood, leaning forward against him, still smiling.

“I had a good time,” she told him, “but I think I need to go to bed now.”

“I think so too. Can you find the bathroom? Can you get undressed?”

Diane nodded, determined. “Of course I can.” She straightened up, turned around, and marched down the hallway. Michael shook his head, went into the kitchen and poured a large glass of orange juice. Passing back through the living room, he locked the door, turned out the lights, and waited until Diane came out of the bathroom. She had changed into a tee shirt, and grinned when she saw him.

“Here you are again,” she exclaimed happily. Michael went into the bathroom and came out with a bottle of aspirin. She was sitting on the bed, and he spilled out two tablets into his hand.

“Take these,” he said, trying to sound stern, “and drink all the juice.”

She did as he said; handing him the glass, then fell back onto the bed. He picked up her feet and pulled the sheet over her, turned off the light, stripped out of his jeans and got into the other side of the bed. She immediately curled to face him.

“I hope I’m not hung over tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Me too. The juice should help, and the aspirin. You’ll be fine.”

“I had a lot of fun. I have really great friends.”

“Yes, you do.” He could feel her body, pressed against him, starting to relax. He lowered his voice a little.

“You friend Carol seems nice, too.”

“She’s a bitch, sometimes,” Diane told him sleepily. “She thought the only reason we were together was because of sex. She didn’t think we could have anything else in common. Sharon yelled at her.”

“Sharon did?”

“Um huh.”

“And you said?”
 

“I said we had tons in common.”
 

“That’s true.”

“Um huh. Then Sharon said I was in love,” she murmured.

He held his breath. “And you said?”

“I said maybe,” she breathed, as she fell asleep, and he lay next to her, staring into the darkness.

She awoke once, near dawn, and went into the bathroom for more aspirin. When she climbed into bed, he opened one eye.

“Drink more juice,” he said.

She nodded as she slid back to sleep, “I did.” When she awoke again, the sun was shining weakly and she was alone. She looked at the clock. It was after ten. She lay still, her head barely throbbing. Good. She got up and went into the bathroom. She stood under the shower until the last of the headache was gone. She stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and put on gym shorts and a tee shirt. As she went into the hall, Michael called from the kitchen.

“Get back in bed. It’s too wet to sit outside. It rained all morning while you were still asleep. I’ll be right in.”

She climbed back into the bed, plumping the pillows behind her. Michael appeared with a tray, laden with coffee cups, muffins, and the morning paper.

“Oh, God, look at this.” Diane watched as he set the tray in the center of the bed. She grabbed a mug and sipped coffee gratefully. “This is so delicious. And I need this so badly, you have no idea. And muffins? You went out to the bakery in the rain? You are an angel. Really.”

He carefully got into bed beside her. “So, how are you? How’s the head?”

She reached for a muffin. “So far, so good. I think you saved my life last night with the juice. I feel almost normal. Thank you so much.” She broke apart a muffin and glanced up to find him watching her.

“You were celebrating rhizomes?” He asked.

She laughed softly. “We were sure as hell celebrating something,” she said ruefully. “God knows what I said last night. Half I don’t remember, and the other half was a crock of shit. But I did have a good time, I remember that.” She chewed her muffin and sipped more coffee. When she glanced at him again, he was very still, gazing at her thoughtfully.
 

He leaned forward. “Do you remember what you said to me last night? About being in love?”

The blood rushed to her face. She could not look at him. She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I remember. Oh, Michael, I wish I were sure.”

“I have never felt more positive about anything in my whole life.”

She looked at him then. “What?”

“I’m in love with you.”

She caught her breath.

“I’m in love with you,” he said again. “I think I have been from that very first day. There hasn’t been a moment in months that I haven’t thought about you, wanted to be with you. You are the sweetest, truest, best thing I have ever found, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you.”