The Actor and the Housewife (8 page)

“Take it easy now!”

“Then I could dismiss all this”—he gestured madly at his chest and head—“as mere sexual desire. That I can manage. I had a wild past before Celeste, and there are still the occasional cracks of temptation, but they are not difficult for me to overcome.”

“Wow, you are a modern-day hero.”

He ignored her. “I have never loved another woman as I love Celeste, and now you’re confusing things. This wasn’t simple desire, so naturally I assumed I was falling in love with you—”

“Naturally, because there could be no other explan—”

“. . . and I wagered that a kiss of passion could help sort it all out. But now that seems unnecessary, and I’m still left in the muddle. I find no logic to my interest in you. First off , you’re Mormon. What does it mean to be Mormon anyway?”

“That’s a nickname for people who belong to my church. It’s a Christian religion.”

“So, you read the Bible, pray, have lots of kids, go to church on Sunday and all that.”

“In a nutshell.”

He shook his head. “Sounds god-awful.”

“And you’re a cynical atheist, can’t stand children, and combine the words ‘god’ and ‘awful.’ Even if we weren’t both married, we’d make a horrific couple.”

“Well, what a relief to get that out of the way!”

“Absolutely.”

There was a shiver of silence in which Becky wondered what would happen now. Would he walk away? And she’d never see him again? Well, at least she’d have a good story to tell Mike.

But Felix leaned against the balustrade, looked at the moon, and said, almost shyly, “But I’m feeling rather protective of you, as if I don’t want to let you go.”

She stared at the moon too, that pathetic little shred of it, her recent laugh still curling her lips. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“What does this mean?”

“Have you considered that maybe—this is a wild idea but hear me out—maybe you might like me in say, oh, a
friendly
way? I absolutely without question refuse to be the least bit romantic with you. And yet”—she turned to face him—“and yet I feel kind of giddy, like I just made a new best friend at camp, and he’s supercool.”

“I am mortified to admit this, but I know what you mean. This has never happened to me before, and I find it all not a little unsettling and quite nearly shocking.”

“Making new friends with cool people always makes me kind of twittery-excited. But you . . .” She laughed. “Gosh darn it, this is so bizarre. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Felix Callahan. We’re somewhere in La-La Land.”

“This is precisely what I’m talking about—you say things like ‘La-La Land’ and ‘gosh darn it.’ I should be eager to scrape you off my shoe.”

“I know, sweetie, I know. But maybe we’re just
keen
on each other, as you limeys would say.”

“ ’Ello love, ’oos your uncle and all that.”

“Exactly. But we fell into the keenness pretty quickly. I mean, if we’d grown up together, come into a friendship slowly, it’d be one thing. In a way, it almost feels like falling—” No, she wasn’t going to say it. “There should be a new term—
falling in friendship
or something like that. I wish there was a word for it! The English language is seriously fl awed. It reminds me of Gonzo’s song from
The Muppet Movie
. Do you know it? No? Seriously, you have no culture.”

So she sang it for him, starting with the part that bemoans the lack of a term for old friends who are meeting for the first time. She paused, intending to stop, but the edge of the melody was hanging there in the cold like the decimated moon, aching to wax round. So she took a breath and kept singing through the verse. Her voice was small and raspy because she knew better than to sing out, and it ended up sounding less like a melodious bird and more like a tree branch scraping against a house.

Still, the words, the tune, seemed perfect for a night under the stars—full of wonder and mystery and yearning. And then the song went and tugged at her emotions unexpectedly, and had she known she’d start to tear up, she never would’ve squawked a note. So she opened her eyes wide to dry them and bit a lip until pain trumped sentimentality.

Felix sighed and she thought he might say something tender, share the heartfelt moment.

He said, “You really shouldn’t sing in public.”

Her laugh was so unexpected, she snorted.

“I mean it,” he said, putting a comforting arm around her. “Never again.”

“The day that you qualify as ‘public’ will be a very sad day.”

“Also, you shouldn’t snort.”

Prompted by a surge of gratitude, she hugged him. She had sung Gonzo’s song and cried, he had told her not to sing ever again (or snort), and that made her want to hug him till his bones creaked. What was happening? Everything from her sore right knuckles to her elephantine maternity dress made impossible sense.

“Felix.” She let go, suddenly shy to speak. But that tense, tickly sensation running from her throat to her belly was giving her some kind of superhuman nerve. And besides, he wasn’t really Felix Callahan anymore, not in that ethereal, big-screen sense. So. She cleared her throat. “Felix, will you be my friend?”

He did laugh at her, though he didn’t seem to mean it. “Yes, we’ll get matching lockets holding strands of each other’s hair.”

“I wish the English language gave us a better option. ‘Pals,’ ‘chums,’ ‘buddies’ . . . but a word that implies the sudden and unusual nature—like ‘metabuddies.’ ”

“ ‘Metabuddies.’ Wow. This
is
getting serious.”

“So?”

“So. Yes. Let’s be friends. That would solve some of this confused muss. Do we spit in our palms and shake?”

“I think this calls for a pinky pledge.” She hooked her pinky around his. “I, Becky Jack, agree to be Felix Callahan’s pal, even though he’s way overrated as an actor and screen hunk and can be such a brat.”

Felix cleared his throat. “I, world-famous and fabulously wealthy Felix Paul Callahan, agree to be mates with Becky, even though she wears grandmother shoes and insists on popping out children with reckless abandon and shows no remorse for her vicious right hook.”

“That was very nice. I almost shed a tear.”

“Apparently all it takes to make you weep is a singing puppet.”

“Hey, don’t sell me short. I also cry at talking socks and animated washcloths.”

“You cry in terror.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true.”

He leaned back and exhaled. “Celeste will be so relieved. So am I.”

“Yeah, where are Celeste and Mike?”

“Oh, they’re not coming out. Celeste’s mission was to retain him so I could speak with you alone.”

“Seriously? Did she know you were . . .”

He nodded.

“No way,” she said in the same tone Fiona used.

“Truly. My lady is game. We . . . you see, after our sordid pasts, when we married, we agreed that if we were ever tempted to cheat, we would have the decency to inform each other first. It was her idea to occupy your husband, giving me a crack to test my falling-in-love theory.”

Becky slowly shook her head. “You are the oddest people I’ve ever met.”

“Well, I had to give it a go, didn’t I? The thought of you has been driving me insane.”

“I think this boils down to a lack of imagination. You like me, but because I’m a woman, you assume it must be either a physical attraction or infatuation. But it’s something else.”

“And what about you? You thought you might be in love with me as well.”

well.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You said yourself you had been feeling confused and giddy.”

“I didn’t—in
no way
did I think I was in love with you, and the uncharacteristic giddiness was just because . . .” she finished in a whisper, “I thought I was in a movie.”

“You thought you were in a movie?”

She raised her hands to the sky. “You’re Calvin the sexy pet shop owner and I owed it to women everywhere to at least see it through, because that’s how these stories go and . . . It was very confusing.”

“And now?”

“And now I’m cured and sane again.”

They smiled at each other, almost shyly, until she laughed.

“What?” he asked. “What is funny? Tell me.”

“You. You thought you were in love with me. And I thought I was in a movie. And there’s no way we’re actually going to be ‘mates.’ ”

“We might,” he said indignantly.

“No possible way. In a few years you’ll be outside under a moon scrap and it’ll remind you, and you’ll say, ‘There was this odd woman I almost kissed once—haven’t thought of her in years . . .’ ”

“I’m going to call you tomorrow.”

She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Hey, I don’t take pinky pledges lightly. Ask anyone.”

“And if you don’t call, it’s okay, Felix. Tonight, I’m the luckiest gal in the world to have you as my friend.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Let’s go find our spouses.”

“Right, our spouses. Isn’t that an odd word? ‘Spouse’?”

“I’ve always thought so. Sounds like an animal. Or a disease.”

“Or a diseased animal.”

Felix offered his arm, she took it, and they turned their back on the gaunt moon.

She felt perfect, as if her belly was full of hot chocolate, all the kids were in bed, the house was clean, and there was nothing to do but put her feet up on Mike’s lap and enjoy the night. She was going to get a new Augie—that wonderful friendship that had made her laugh through high school and college had been as lost to her as a childhood doll. She’d met Mike, Augie had gotten engaged, and the friendship had unceremoniously died. You cannot support a spouse and a best friend of the opposite gender. It just cannot be done! Or so she’d thought. But she was thirteen years older now, full of world wisdom and top-notch maturity, and her chest swelled with hope that it was possible after all. They could do it. And she’d taken a pinky pledge to that effect.

When they entered the ballroom, Becky became conscious of the grin on her face. A couple she knew from her Layton neighborhood two-stepped by, their looks full of gossipy indignation when their eyes flicked to Felix’s jacket around her shoulders. It made Becky laugh. If they only knew!

“Are you always this giggly?” Felix asked. “I don’t know if I can approve.”

“I certainly hope I am. I mean, I certainly hope you’re not making me more giggly than normal—that would be plain gross. But really, if you have the option to laugh, why ever hold it back?”

A warm burning sensation fl ashed in her breasts, and she pressed them with backs of her wrists to stop the milk before it fl owed.

“Ugh, I’m letting down. We’ll have to make this fast so I can go pump in the bathroom. I’m used to nursing every couple of hours.”

The horror in Felix’s eyes was so intense it seemed painful. “Pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Say what? I didn’t say anything.”

He shook his head in disgust.

Back at their table, Celeste was talking, her hands fl ashing in the air, her eyes wide, as if she were recalling an impressive fireworks display. Mike was listening with polite though somewhat feigned interest, but when he saw Becky approaching, his eyes brightened.

“Hey, there you are. You okay?”

“Oh yeah, fine. It’s just that Felix thought he was falling in love with me.”

Felix slapped a hand over his face, which gave Becky a good snicker.

“He . . . what?” Mike looked around, trying to figure out if there was a joke he didn’t get.

“It’s okay, really,” Becky said, rubbing his back.

Celeste stood slowly. In that slinky dress, she fl owed like a waterfall falling up. “She rejected you,
ma puce
?”

“No, she did not reject me—I realized that I was mistaken.”

Becky nodded happily. “We confirmed that there was no love falling anywhere around us and so we had the wacky idea that we could play at being friends.” Becky turned to Celeste. “I gather Felix has never had a female friend? He liked being around me and he saw only two options: either it was a romantic or physical attraction.”

“It’s just as I thought. I was never worried, Rebecca. But I wanted him to see this through so he would know for himself.”

The two women gave each other knowing glances.

“Now be clear,” Felix said, and if he’d had feathers, they would have been ruffling. “I
didn’t
find you physically attractive, and that was a bit of my confusion.”

“Hey!” Mike’s hands were fisting and unfisting, caught between outrage and relief.

“Sorry,” Felix said. “Sorry, sorry. Unintended insult.”

Mike glanced at Becky, as if to make sure she wasn’t off ended. She was smiling, so Mike shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s not like I think that way about your wife either.”

Celeste looked at Mike in unabashed amazement.

“Sorry, I meant . . .” Mike rubbed his eyes and turned away. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

Becky looked from aghast Celeste to befuddled Felix to mystified Mike and clapped her hands with glee. After so many winter weeks house bound and half-crazy, this was turning out to be the best outing ever.

“You realized that you are not impassioned?” Celeste asked her husband.

“Not in the slightest.”

Celeste muttered something in French and slinked over. Felix put his hands on his wife’s hips and let his eyes admire her in a bedroom way. They kissed. Becky coughed. It was a bit much for public.

“He’s in love with you?” Mike whispered.

“No, no, no. He was confused. He wanted to be friends, I think, and since I’m apparently a female alien, he had no idea how to interpret that data. So I set him straight. We agreed that there’s no romantic feelings floating about, that we’re both absolutely in love with our spouses—‘spouse’ is really a weird word isn’t it?—and decided to be friends. We took a pinky pledge.”

“You took a pinky pledge.”

“I know it’s weird, hon, but he feels like someone who should be in our lives. In a different way from our family. It’s all new. But it’ll be good.” She put her arms around his neck. “So, can I keep my new friend? Please? You luscious, luscious man?”

Mike eyed the couple as they whispered Frenchy things in each other’s ears. “If that’s what you want . . .”