Savage Lane (7 page)

She went into the house, laid out a yoga mat, and continued with her workout.

W
HEN
D
EB
returned to the pool area, ahead of Owen, she felt dirty, disgusting, and ashamed. Everything about her classroom fantasy that had excited her just a few minutes ago, now repulsed her. She wanted to be dead, buried or, better yet, burned. The world didn’t deserve her miserable, unfaithful body. She wanted to evaporate, combust, disappear forever.

“Hey, Deb.”

Deb glanced to her left, toward the bleachers, at the smiling face of Grace Shapiro, the mom of Aiden who was on Justin’s swim team.

Deb had to smile back—talk about being fake—and said, “Hey, how are you?”

“Great, thanks,” Grace said. “Are you just getting here?”

“No, I was here before, I just had to take a call.”

“Oh, too bad,” Grace said. “I love your hair, did you get it cut?”

Fighting off an image of Owen grabbing a fistful of her hair as he leaned close to her ear, grunting,
You like that, student
?
You like that, right
? she said to Grace, “Um, no, not recently.”

“Well, I love it,” Grace said.

Deb managed a half smile then went and sat in the same spot in the bleachers she’d sat in before, still feeling filthy. What kind of person was she, sneaking away from her son’s swim practice to have sex with a teenager? She could smell Owen’s Axe cologne, as strong as if she were wearing it herself, and she wished she could run down there and jump in the pool to rinse off. But washing his scent off her wouldn’t be enough, because she could still feel his body on her,
in
her.

She was so absorbed in her self-loathing that she hadn’t noticed that Owen had returned to his seat a few rows in front of her. Now the scent of Axe was even stronger, and she wanted to move—maybe go sit next to Grace or, better yet, in the top row of the bleachers, and all the way in the corner, as far away from Owen as she could possibly get—but she couldn’t do that as the sane, logical voice was still lurking somewhere in her brain, reminding her the worst thing she could do was draw any attention to her relationship with Owen. The only positive of the whole situation was that the perverted side of herself was a well-kept secret, that she was alone in her suffering.

The boys were doing freestyle. Shit, that meant there was another forty-five minutes of practice. That wasn’t enough time to drive somewhere; she had to get outside to get some air, but she didn’t want to make a display of leaving right after Owen had returned just in case someone was paying attention. She looked over in Grace’s direction and, sure enough, Grace was looking, maybe staring, right at her. This time Deb didn’t smile, though; instead maintaining a blank expression and pretending to look beyond Grace, at the wall displaying school championship banners, before shifting her gaze back toward the swimming pool.

While Deb knew that Grace probably just happened to be looking in her direction and that it probably didn’t
mean
anything, it was hard not to be paranoid. Maybe Grace had seen Deb returning from the classroom upstairs and Owen returning from the same direction and maybe suspected something was going on. Grace was a gossiper. Deb remembered how a few months ago Grace had told her a story—in confidence—about how the Adlers, a couple they both knew, were in marriage counseling because David Adler had been hitting his wife Marissa. If Grace couldn’t keep that to herself, how would she be able to not blab about an affair with a teenager?

Deb was jarred by a blast of Owen’s Axe. Was she imagining it or was the scent getting stronger? It seemed like she had her nose in the bottle, and that the bottle was fastened to her face, like a horse’s feedbag. He had his head tilted down slightly—looking down at something, probably his cell phone. She hated herself for letting this situation linger on, for not being assertive, for getting sucked in all over again. Now she would have to wait until the next time they were alone, but what if she couldn’t go through with it then either? What if the only escape would be everyone finding out, for disaster to ensue?

Her purse vibrated. She opened it and saw she’d gotten a text from Owen:
That was so fuckin’ hot!

The Axe was overwhelming now; she couldn’t breathe. Worse, she was getting turned on. She couldn’t take this anymore, she was going to lose it, have a breakdown. As she stuffed her phone back into her purse she saw the little bottle of Stoli. She’d forgotten it was there—she’d thought she’d had the last one the other day when she’d been running around, doing errands and had gotten antsy in the car in the parking lot outside Walgreens.

Deciding that enough time had passed since Owen had returned for her to leave again, she walked, trying not to seem like she was rushing, toward the exit. She noticed that Grace was involved in conversation with another mom and didn’t seem to see her, and she realized that the whole idea that Grace was suspicious had probably been ridiculous.

In the bathroom, she went into a stall, tore off the seal and gulped down the vodka in one swig, as if she’d been wandering around a desert and it was the first liquid she’d come across in days. It relaxed her a little, but it wasn’t enough. She was afraid if she went back in there and had to see the back of Owen’s head again and breathe in more of his cologne she’d have a panic attack or, worse, lose control and want to be with him again. She was already fighting off an urge to text him back and keep the fantasy going.

Instead, she went outside. Ah, air. This was what she needed: freshness, clarity. It happened to be turning into a particularly beautiful day—a very blue sky, a light breeze, and it had to be around seventy degrees. She walked around the grounds of the school, along the soccer field and by the building through a woodsy area. It felt good to be outside, to be moving, and maybe the vodka was hitting because she definitely felt more relaxed. But then as she approached the back of the school, her tension suddenly returned. It seemed as if the odor of Owen’s cologne was everywhere again, dominating the scents of pine trees and freshly cut grass.

“There you are.”

When she turned she saw him standing several feet away, smiling obliviously. She was surprised to see him there; then she was upset.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“I had a feeling you were out here,” he said. “You didn’t text me back, and I knew something was up because you always text me back, then I looked behind me and, I was right, you were gone. But I knew I’d find you out here. Isn’t that so freaky?”

Deb looked around and then said, “I’m serious, you have to go back inside—right now.”

“Are you mad at me about something?” he asked.

“Yes.” Deb realized she was talking at a normal level, which was too loud, so she continued, stage-whispering, “We can’t be out here together, Owen.”

“We’re not doing anything, we’re just talking,” he said. “It would’ve been a lot worse if somebody came into that classroom.”

“Keep your voice down,” Deb whispered harshly. “I’m gonna go back inside, but you wait, just wait about ten minutes before you come back in, okay?”

“Why didn’t you text me back?”

“We can’t talk about this now.” Deb was walking away.

Behind her, Owen said, “Talk to you later… student.”

Deb, fuming, returned inside. This was bad—very bad. Sending raunchy texts at inappropriate times, like he’d done this morning, was one thing, but this was going too far. Owen was usually discreet, careful; in the past, he never would have followed her out of the building. He probably sensed that something was wrong, that she was having doubts, and he wanted to fix the situation, which made Deb even angrier for not ending it when they were alone in the classroom, when she’d had the chance. As she fought off a flash of herself on her back on the teacher’s desk, her legs in the air, Owen clutching her ankles, she thought that the last thing she needed now was for him to become too clingy.

“Another phone call?” Grace asked.

Deb looked up at Grace in the bleachers, noticing her forced smile.

“Yeah,” Deb said. “I’m getting some work done on the house and the contractor’s driving me crazy.”

The kids were already doing the breaststroke, so the practice seemed to be ending early. Owen returned but didn’t ignore her the way he normally did. No, he looked right at her, as if trying to get her to look at him, to
notice
him. What the hell? Deb maintained her gaze toward the pool, but saw in her peripheral vision that Owen kept looking back at her. Then when the kids were getting out of the pool, she got up—noticing that Owen wasn’t watching her—and left the pool area and went down to intercept Justin on his way to the locker room.

“Change fast, we have to go,” Deb said.

“What?” Justin was distracted, talking to a friend.

“We’re in a hurry,” Deb said. “I’m serious, no dawdling.”

She waited outside the locker room and as soon as Justin came out, she took him by the hand, and led him out to the car.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” Justin asked.

“We have to pick up Riley,” Deb said, noticing that Owen and his brother were just leaving the building. She got in the car quickly, let Justin in, and then backed out of the spot. As she was driving away she checked in the rearview, sensing that Owen was watching, and sure enough he was standing there, hands on his hips, glaring in her direction.

Deb knew he was probably confused, or angry, because she’d never behaved this way before, but maybe this was a good thing. It could cushion the blow, make it less of a shock, when she ended the fling. She’d arrange to meet him someplace public—a Starbucks, a Chipotle—where nothing could happen, and she’d tell him it was over and that would be it, the end.

Driving along the winding two-lane road, Deb suddenly felt empowered. Justin, in the back seat, was playing with his Nintendo DSi, and she went through songs on her iPod, skipping “Love The Way You Lie.”

“Why do I have to go?” Justin asked.

Deb stopped at “Believe” by Cher, much better, then said, “What? Where?”

“Andrew’s sleepover,” Justin said. “Why are you making me go?”

“You’re going, and I’m done discussing it with you,” she said, and turned up the volume.

It was about a fifteen-minute drive to the dance studio at a strip mall, where Riley was waiting outside talking to a couple of friends. When Riley looked over and saw the car she seemed annoyed. She said goodbye quickly to her friends then got into the back, next to Justin.

“Am I late?” Deb asked loudly, over the music.

“Just drive,” Riley said.

Deb took out her phone, glanced at a text from Owen—
I don’t understand what’s going on with you. What did I do wrong?
—and then put the phone back in her purse and pulled away.

“
Mom
,” Riley said.

Shit, had Riley seen the second phone? She was usually careful, never using it when the kids were around.

“I told you not to do that,” Riley said.

“Do what?” Deb asked, panicked.

“Pick me up right in front of the school,” Riley said. “I told you to like park in the back of the lot and text me and I’d come over and meet you.”

“Sorry, I forgot your instructions were so specific,” Deb said.

She was relieved about the phone, but now was worried about the text. She told herself,
It’s okay, he’s just upset, but that was a good thing, it would be easier for him to let go.

“I’m serious.” Riley seemed agitated.

“What, you don’t want your friends to know you have a mother?” Deb said. “You want them to think you were a miracle baby, that you just appeared in the world out of thin air?”

“You just don’t get it,” Riley said

“I don’t like your attitude right now,” Deb said.

“Whatever,” Riley said.

“No, not whatever. Don’t whatever me.”

“Why do I have to go?” Justin asked.

“Will you stop it about that already?” Deb snapped. “I told you we’re not discussing it.”

“Where don’t you want to go?” Riley asked Justin.

Deb felt the seat vibrate next to her. Shit, what was he texting her about now?