Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) (25 page)

W
e drove home in quiet, holding hands. He really was the sweetest thing. I couldn’t believe my luck, or my curse, that we’d come together. I couldn’t believe that he was leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t believe I was holding an opportunity to fly back with him. I wanted so desperately to just say,
Fuck it,
and pack all my stuff and meet him on that plane. But I had come home for a reason, although I really couldn’t remember why any more.

I stepped into the house feeling overwhelmed. Leaving Jack in the limo, I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye, or see you later. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how I felt. I did, but it was a horrible feeling. I opened my clutch and looked at the itinerary Jack had given me. Looking at the clock and seeing it was twelve thirty, I realized that Jack’s flight was set to leave in less than twelve hours. I slipped off my Cinderella slippers and set them carefully at the hallway to the bedroom, and walked over to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Rummaging through the bottles, I found the bottle of Glenfiddich 18 that Greg had received a couple of years ago from his company when he landed the Franklin Complex account. I don’t know why, but I smiled when I noticed that the seal had not yet been broken. I broke the seal and opened the bottle. Pouring a single, then changing my mind, I poured a double. Lifting the glass to my nose, I took in the aroma that was absolutely Jack in my mind.

I walked through the living room and looked around at my life. I had raised three wonderful kids here, and those memories were in every corner. I looked at the dining table, recalling the birthday parties, puzzles, and school projects. In the TV room, I saw movie nights with the kids, and the kids with their friends. But looking around I didn’t see memories of me and Greg. Even after the kids were gone. I saw Greg typing away for hours in the office, or seated with his laptop with CNN or Headline news on the TV, but not him active with the family, or with me.

I sipped the Scotch, and let it warm me as I stepped outside onto the patio in the cool spring evening. I couldn’t quite grasp how I felt. Is love all we need? Will that be enough? Greg was safe. He wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t care if I came (even in bed) or went, as long as I was there to pick up his dry cleaning, keep the house tidy, go with him as his little trophy to parties and sports things, and make him dinner, he was fine. I could go about doing things that made me happy. The one concession he had granted me was that I could work, doing whatever I wanted.

Being put on the spot with Jack tonight and admitting that I love him – whew! It was true. I did love him. Very much so. Since the first time I saw him at Ed Scott’s, I was drawn to him. Terrified by how he made me feel, but drawn nonetheless. I felt horrible when he told me that my leaving sent him into a drunken oblivion. But I knew just how he felt.

The last four weeks have been a crazy mishmash of heaven and hell. A roller coaster. I left Napa feeling like a nobody, and in New York, I felt alive. Then back to Napa and felt neglected again. Until Monday… When Jack arrived.

But could one week home undo the three I had been away? Was I giving up too quickly? Maybe therapy? Greg was nearly upset and angry when I suggested it at dinner last week. Do I try and keep watering what seemed like a dead lawn?

I sat and sipped my Scotch, recalling the past eight hours with Jack and how magical it all seemed. It was so much more than nice. The excitement, the surprise. But I’d only known Jack for a month now. Who was to say he wouldn’t get bored and, now that he’s decided he wants a stable relationship, he won’t find someone better than me? I’m no major catch. He sees women every day who are far better looking and more fit than I am. He’s in an industry that is all about looks and appearances.

But back to Greg. Twenty-four years was hard to toss away. There was something comforting knowing that Greg wouldn’t leave, that he welcomed me back after my “stunt,” as he called it, running to New York to figure out my mind. And there were the kids. Yes, they were all out of the house, and mature enough to understand that relationships sometimes don’t work out, no matter how long you are together.

Could I handle another twenty-four years of mediocre? Did I deserve anything better? I’d run – chucked everything and didn’t give any thought to leaving Greg, then just came back expecting things to be drastically improved. Greg is refusing couples counseling, so how can we improve when he doesn’t listen to me?

I thought about both Jack and Greg. But the more I tried to think, the more muddled my mind became. How do you compare the two? Heart? Or head? Love? Or safe? Which factors mattered more? I thought about the lists I used to make in high school with the pros in one column and the cons in the other. I would give point values to each element and come up with a score. Well, I wasn’t going to go grab paper, but I tried to come up with the thoughts I would put in a column.

Greg made me feel comfortable. Safe. He was predictable. I knew what to expect. There were no surprises. But there wasn’t any heat, or fire, or passion, or excitement.

Jack made me feel all those things and then some. He made me feel special, treasured, and important. He was anything but predictable, but that was a good thing.

How could I sort this out?

I was away from Jack not one week and he was jetting across the country to see me, and fight for me. I had been in New York for almost three weeks before Greg came out.

Even after I had come back from New York, Greg was still absent, and still not what I needed. Sure, we’d had Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night at the hotel, but things were still, as the
Fifty
book put it, vanilla. And home Saturday night? Sunday night? I was an afterthought. Greg had been focused on his files. Not me. Did that make me selfish? Maybe. But I’d been gone for three weeks and he didn’t seem to be over the moon that I’d come home. He almost acted like it was expected that I would come back. And I felt like I had gone back to being a maid. When we got home on Saturday, he was all about me going grocery shopping and what’s for dinner. I felt a little slutty that I wanted sex more than he did, but I now knew that men still had sex drives in their fifties.

I thought about the two philosophies. The one Shelby cited, Johnny Depp’s
“If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second.”
And Kevin’s
abuela’s
favorite,
The grass is always greener where you water it.
I’d come home to water the grass, and I felt like I was still in a field of weeds. Like the spontaneous trip to the hotel didn’t matter. That the dinners I’d cooked since coming home were typical. He still wasn’t paying attention to me. One would think that if your wife up and leaves you because she felt neglected, you’d stop neglecting her.

I looked over at the window that lead to our bedroom. The light was on. Greg had waited up for me. That was nice.
One last chance to water the grass
, I said to myself, thinking about the itinerary in my clutch.

I finished my Scotch and headed back inside. I set up the coffee maker then headed to the bedroom. My heart dropped. Greg was asleep, only my bedside light was on. He hadn’t waited up after all.

I went to the bathroom, slipped out of my gorgeous new dress, carefully hanging it on the hanger and changed into pajamas. Staring in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I continued to battle with safe and comfortable or alive and daring.

I slipped into bed and gave Greg a quick kiss on the cheek. He stirred and his eyes opened. I held my breath wondering what he would say. Would he ask me about the ballet? About who I went with? Or would he tell me about the game on TV I’d missed at Jim and Jess’?

“Oh good, you’re home,” he said groggily. “By the way, Aaron and I have a seven-thirty tee-time tomorrow morning. Enjoy sleeping in.” He kissed the air and snuggled back into his pillow.

I
returned to the Hilton deflated and exhausted. I had played every card I had. Was it enough? Would love conquer all? Or was the risk too much for her? How do I make her feel safe? And cherished? I cursed myself for staying away from serious relationships my whole adult life. If I had opened myself a little, if I hadn’t let my failed relationship with Kari harden my heart all those years ago, I might have had an idea of what to do. How to do this right.

Becca and Rita had it so easy. They gave each other space and respect. I thought that was what I was doing. I absolutely respected her. I could have pressured her into my bed; I had no doubt she wouldn’t need too much coaxing. From seeing her on Monday, Tuesday, and tonight, I got a clear feeling that she wanted it as much as I did. But I wanted to give her the space, the comfort… to show her that I wanted her for more than her body.

I tossed and turned all night. I didn’t get any sleep. I finally crawled out of bed at five and packed my clothes. I wanted to hit the gym one last time, but was so nervous that I didn’t have it in me. Would she show at the airport? Would I go home with my heart? I drove to the car rental place in a fog, returned the car, and took the shuttle to the airport where the private jet was already waiting. I looked at my watch, remembering the last time when every minute seemed to matter. The day that Elizabeth walked out.

I waited in the terminal for her. I did whatever I could to distract myself. Thumbed through magazines that were months old. Drank shit coffee from the vending machine. Even struck up a chat with the small family that sat waiting for their own plane.

Finally, a uniformed man approached me. “Mr. Stevens. I’m Adam, your attendant for your flight to JFK. We will be departing in fifteen minutes.” He looked around quickly. “Have plans changed? The itinerary states that there are two travelers.”

I scanned the terminal. No sign of Beth anywhere.

I laughed nervously. “You know women. Five minutes? Can we wait for five more minutes?” I pleaded. I pulled out my cell and texted Beth.

11:45am

I am boarding the

plane now. Should I

have them hold the

flight plan?

“I will message the captain.” He pulled out his phone as well and started tapping away.

Once again, I was a slave to the clock. I watched it like a hawk. Before I knew it, five minutes had passed.

“Mr. Stevens, the captain has informed me that we cannot wait any longer, or the flight will have to refile a flight plan which will cause a considerable delay.”

I looked at my cell. No reply. Should I pay an arm and a leg and reschedule the flight and insist we wait? Or did I have my answer?

I
opened one eye and looked at the clock. It was seven forty-three. Greg was on the links. I remembered how he grumbled last weekend about missing his round last weekend during our “romantic” getaway. I stretched, enjoying the full space of the queen sized bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, contemplating my final thoughts of last night, or early this morning, however you want to look at it.

I climbed out of bed and got busy. Very busy. Around eleven, my phone chirped with a text. Glancing at the screen I saw it was from Greg. I think I actually growled when I read the message:

11:23

On my way. Can

you make me one

of your famous

BBQ Chicken

sandwiches for me

for lunch? Be home

in 5. Thx XOG

Oh, really? ‘XOG’ was a departure from his ‘G.’ signature. Why he liked to sign texts anyway, I would never know. But some things never change. He was still texting me lunch orders and errands. I smiled to myself, powered down my phone so I couldn’t get anymore annoying texts, and set the phone aside finishing the last of my
ToDo List.

I was sitting on the back patio sipping a glass of chardonnay when I heard the door open. Casually I walked into the kitchen and saw Greg standing at the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped the top off. “Hey, there you are. Are you okay? I don’t see the sandwich. That’s okay. I’ll make something. You must be tired from getting in so late last night. But wow! You missed quite a game. Giants lost by one run. It was brutal.”