The Affair (39 page)

I noticed the bottle of Merlot on the chipped laminate side table. There were two glasses. So much for AA, I thought.

“Did you enjoy my little—gifts?”

“Those tampons. That was you?”

“You betcha!” Diana beamed like a flashlight. “The kisses were a nice touch, don’t you think?” She puckered her lips and blew
a salacious kiss. I could almost see it sliming its way toward me.

“No, I thought the whole thing was disgusting.”

“Disgusting? Ouch!” Diana pouted, feigning insult. “Don’t tell me you forgot!”

I stared at her. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“You remember. Prince Charles? Camilla?”

Oh yes. It was all coming back to me. It had been one of those exceedingly rare moments of harmony between Diana and me. A
staff luncheon at Bellamy’s. Hot topic of the week: Prince Charles’s secret desire to be a Kotex in Camilla Parker Bowles’s
love canal. Most everyone agreed that Charles was a royal pig, but I argued that it was a private comment between lovers and
wasn’t meant to be publicly aired or judged. Diana vociferously agreed, then winked at me in a way I suppose I should have
noticed. She caught up with me later, said she believed that anything is permissible between consenting adults.

I looked down at the condom in my hands. I figured it was only a matter of time before my husband would arrive. And when he
did, I planned to tell him our marriage was officially and finally over. It seemed totally appropriate that I’d end my misery
in some motel room with its stain-flecked walls, chipped laminate furniture, and forlorn drapes. I was actually looking forward
to it.

I reached into my bag and felt for the camera. It was still there. “I can’t wait to see the look on Roger’s face when he walks
in and finds me standing here with his whore.”

“Roger?” Diana grinned impishly and shook her head. “Oh, baby, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not that kind of girl. I mean,
that’s not my or-i-en-ta-tion.”

With every syllable of the word she tugged sharply on the ribbon, reeling me in toward the bed. I lost my balance and flopped
beside her. I could smell the incense in her hair.

“I’ve never been interested in Roger. Don’t you know that?”

I pried her fingers off me and turned to face her. I was sure she was bullshitting me. “Cut the crap, Diana. How many times
have you told me you should have grabbed him when you had the chance? You were married once. And how about all your boyfriends?
Roger told me you had a new guy up to your dorm every week.”

Diana snorted, “Boyfriends, shmoyfriends. Listen. You’re a therapist. You’re supposed to know this stuff.”
She grabbed a pillow and playfully bopped me over the head. What did she think this was, a slumber party? “Sexuality is a
continuum, babe. I used to be on this end of the continuum”—she lightly traced a line from one end of my lips to the other—“and
now I’m on this side.”

“Give me a break,” I told her. “How stupid do you think I am? What about this?” I waved the condom at her. Diana licked her
lips.

“Oh, sweetcakes, that’s not for Roger.” She leaned forward to brush the hair away from my face. It was a gentle, affectionate
gesture. It made me shudder.

“But let’s not rush it, okay?”

“But the book, the body powder—that wasn’t for Roger?”

Diana was radiant now. “Oh, this is too perfect. Just perfect!” she said.

At this point I didn’t know what to think. I was sitting in a cheesy motel room, with my nemesis, who just happened to be
naked. To complicate matters, I was aware of an intensifying heat spreading like a rash over my body.

“So, were
you
planning on wearing that thing?” I pointed toward the condom.

Diana giggled. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have the right equipment.” She shifted her legs provocatively, watching me watching
her.

“You are delectable, you know that? Delicious. And Roger doesn’t deserve you, that rat.”

She reached for me again but I stood up and glanced perfunctorily at my watch, as if the time even mattered at that point.
The truth is, I felt suspended in time, as if I’d stepped outside myself and now watched this entire sordid scene unfold from
a corner of the room.

“Look,” I heard myself say, “it’s been real. But I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, no! You can’t!” Diana grabbed my hand and held fast. “Please. Not yet. You’ll miss the best part!” Just then I heard
the door in the next room open.

“Yes!” Diana whispered. “Finally.”

I held my breath and waited.

’Til next time,

It’s I
A.M.
The locksmith has finally left and Roger’s clothes are now sitting on the curb in Hefty bags that also happen to be filled
with broken eggs, coffee grounds, old tuna fish, yogurt, and everything else in the kitchen trash can. I took special care
to dump the slop on his favorite Armani suit, then emptied Pete’s acrylic paints into the bag with the Tommy Bahama trousers
and silk ties. I poured bleach over everything else. I would have puked into his $160 shoes if I thought I had anything left
in my stomach, but I’d already heaved up dinner into the toilet. With any luck the raccoons will tear into the bags and drag
his crap all over the street.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

As soon as the door creaked open in the next room, Diana slinked out of bed and started moving toward the bathroom.

“Just where the hell are you going?” I whispered, instinctively reaching for the steak knife.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” she muttered.

I watched her scuttle into the bathroom and close the door behind her. And then I knew.

“Hello?” I heard him call from the adjoining room.

“Hel-lo?” The voice was playful, but a little tentative.

A faint rustling of tissue paper. He came bearing flowers. Red gerbera daisies and tiny yellow roses. Eddie’s smile was as
big as the bulge in his pants. He offered the flowers. Reflexively, I brought them to my face and inhaled deeply. He grinned
at me. “You naughty, naughty girl.”

“What?”

“What? What?” he mimicked. “Don’t give me that innocent routine.” He unzipped his leather jacket and tossed it on the wobbly
Formica table. He wore a crisp shirt, azure blue. I wondered if he’d asked his wife to iron it this morning. He looked beautiful.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He pulled me toward him with authority and entitlement. “First, the panties. Then
that little sex book. And the Kama Sutra powder?” He suddenly looked stricken. “Damn! I left it in the car! I could run out
and get it. Wouldn’t take more than a minute.” He pulled me closer and put his mouth against my ear.

“On second thought, let’s forget the powder. We really don’t need props, do we?”

“Wait, Eddie, you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand just fine.” He put his hands beneath my blouse and fiddled with my bra. “What I
don’t
get is why you picked this place? We could have met at the Roundtree. For old time’s sake.” He gently lifted my chin with
his hands and ran his tongue lightly across my lips. “God. I’ve missed you.” He tried to lower me to the bed.

It took all my willpower to stop him. It was all happening
so quickly. Knowing that Diana was sitting in the bathroom, stark naked, possibly watching us—I should have been freaked out,
but I felt intoxicated. For a fleeting moment I wondered what it would be like to have Diana in bed with us. I thought, I
could do this. What guy wouldn’t want to have two women in bed? And I could give Diana what she wanted: a piece of me.

I was still having that weird out-of-body feeling. Even while I tasted Eddie’s tongue in my mouth, part of me seemed to float
around the room observing—the dead horsefly squashed against the mirror, the stray puzzle piece under the bed. And then I
thought of Petey. He loved puzzles. I thought about the bad dream he’d had the night before, something about this boy in his
class cutting up all his Pokémon cards with scissors. I’d chuckled as I smoothed his forehead. “That’s the worst that should
ever happen to you,” I whispered as he drifted back to sleep. I kissed his face.

Now Eddie was kissing mine. I couldn’t go through with it. “Eddie. Stop.” I mumbled the words into his neck. I finally pushed
him off me.

“Please.” I whispered. “We’re not alone.” I cocked my eyes toward the bathroom.

“Huh?” Eddie looked bewildered.

“Remember Diana?” I mouthed.

Eddie nodded, wide-eyed. He pulled himself onto his elbows. His face was flushed. You’re kidding, right?”

“Diana!” I yelled “Get out here!
Now!
“

No response at first. I knew there was no window from which to escape. Either she’d slit her wrists (unlikely, given her Montana-sized
ego) or she’d fallen asleep (also unlikely, given her avid interest in my sex life). After what felt like ten minutes but
was probably more like four seconds, Diana appeared, fully clothed.

“Hey, don’t let me stop you. I was just leaving.” She reached for the faux fur coat hanging on the bar near the door. “You
kids just go about your business. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“What the hell is this all about?” Eddie looked angry. I realized that the prospect of a three-way probably would have been
more repellent than appealing to him. He detested Diana. “What is this, some kind of sick joke?” Eddie shot me a dark glare.
He thought I’d set him up!

“Don’t look at me that way,” I told him. “I had nothing to do with this.” I implored Diana to explain herself. She hoisted
herself up onto the dresser.

“Okay. It’s like this.” She took a deep breath. “You know I’m in AA, right?” Oh no, I thought, here we go with this again.
What could her twelve-step program possibly have to do with this?

“I’m still sober, believe it or not.” She gestured toward the Merlot. “That was for you two. Not me.”

Eddie reached for the bottle and took a swig. “Not bad,” he said, grinning. Good old Eddie. He wasn’t angry. He was amused.

“Anyway, part of my recovery involves making amends. And I thought one way to make amends would be to get you together, you
know, give you the opportunity to have a little fun, rekindle the old flame, whatever.”

“You made amends to me already, Diana.” This twelve-step stuff was getting tiresome. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, baby, I do.” Her smile faded. She was truly earnest. “See, I still feel terribly guilty for trying to break you and Eddie
up. Your little dalliance drove me crazy. I made you think I was looking out for Roger, but that
wasn’t it at all. It was more complicated than that. And …” Her voice softened. “… more pathetic. I had a crush on you. And
I thought maybe you might like me too.”

I glanced at Eddie. His eyes crinkled. “Oh, this is sweet!”

Diana tossed a small stack of wrapped plastic drinking cups at him. “Oh, shut up! It’s not funny! I’m pouring my heart out
here!”

My head was spinning. Nothing made sense. “If all you wanted to do was make amends, why were you naked when I got here?”

Eddie perked up. “She was naked?”

Okay. Maybe I was wrong about his interest in a three-way.

“Well? Why were you naked?” I demanded.

Diana shrugged sheepishly. “A girl can dream, can’t she?” I thought I could get you warmed up for Eddie.

I pulled on my coat. This was too bizarre. I was standing in a motel room with two people who wanted to get me in bed. At
the very least, it was an ego boost. But it was still friggin’ weird. “Okay. Fine. But I’m married.”

Diana sighed. “Barely.”

“What do you mean, ‘barely’?” I asked.

“I mean, your husband is a dog.” Another big sigh. “Roger’s a dirty dog.”

“Look, I know all about Alyssa, okay?”

“Alyssa?” Diana snorted. “Old news!” Her face filled with pity. “Baby”—she shook her head slowly—“you don’t know the
half
of it.”

Eddie reached out for my hand and squeezed. I knew he meant to offer support, but he must have felt at least
a little jubilation. Here was the opening he was waiting for.

“Okay,” I told Diana. “You’ve got my attention. Start talking.”

Diana pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her bag, shook one out, and lit up. She waved toward the bed. “Maybe you’d better
sit down for this,” she suggested. “And take off your coat. We’re going to be here a while.” I chose one of the chairs near
the window. Eddie stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head. I took a deep breath and tried to look neutral. Even though
Diana thought she was doing me a favor now, I had yet to eliminate the possibility that she might take some pleasure in my
anguish. She took a deep drag and began.

“Remember Lola Jacobson?” Of course I remembered her. When Roger and I were engaged, I rented the upstairs of Lola’s house
on a quiet street in West Liberty. Lola was a sculptor, fortyish, married, no kids. She had jet black hair and straight bangs,
long legs, and strong arms. Her husband was a swami, of all things, the charismatic leader of an ashram on the fringes of
the state park, about six miles outside of town. His name was Swami Muktananda but we always called him Mike. She told me
they had tantric sex. I had to look it up in the library.