C is for Cookie

"Gladly." I gave each of her nipples a long, appreciative sucking, cupping both hands around each tit as I did so.

"Ahh. Mmmmm. I'll never get tired of that." The pasties went back on. "Send me a message from your phone right now and I'll save your name and number." We did that. I even took a thumbnail picture to put by her name, which I'm certain was a violation of the club's rules. "Let me know tomorrow... er, later today, it's after midnight... keep me up on what's going on and what choices you're making, and I'll be there to support you. We can meet up whenever you like, outside of here. If I don't hear from you by Sunday, I'll be calling you."

She turned and opened the curtain to leave. "Oh, and Jim? I love you."

"I love you too, Cookie."

I left the Diamond club feeling a million times better.

***

I never did sleep that night. Not really. I must have halfway dozed off on the sofa for two or three hours around four a.m. and woke up with the sun on Friday morning. I didn't really feel any different than I did the night before. All my problems were still there. They just showed up as an ache rather than as a slap. Cookie had given me a lifeline of hope.

I puttered around all morning, accomplishing nothing. I finally decided to get out of the house. The hardware store was open despite the holiday, so I bought a new set of warded locks for the house- knobs and deadbolts. I could install them myself. There were new keys. I had extras made, one for Jessica and one for Mike. Another as a spare. Steph doesn't get a set. She can move in with her fucking boyfriend.

Fuck her.

I called my daughter and asked her to lunch. I normally don't bother her on the weekends, she's off doing her thing. But she did want to be closer to home than Mike. She heard something in my voice when we spoke and rearranged her plans.

Fortunato's is one of those pizza-pasta joints that naturally form on the periphery of every college campus, but this one does it properly. It's been there forever, and you can smell the place from a block away. They believe in garlic and melted cheese, and they're always packed on game nights and weekends, filled with students savvy enough to stave off their impending hangovers with preemptive infusions of grease and carbs. For lunch, it's quieter, almost pleasant. The clientele is mostly old desperados like me seeking a moment of nostalgia. I was already at a table and had two diet cokes and a basket of bread in front of me when Jessica came in. She smiled at me from the doorway like a beam of sunshine, but the smile faltered when she saw my face. She almost ran to the table... but also almost slinked towards it like an ashamed dog. She might have turned around and left if she had a hope that I hadn't seen her.

"Dad. Hey. Okay. Um. What's wrong?"

I just stared at her, not knowing where to begin.

"Dad? You're scaring me."

"Why don't you tell me what you already know."

"What. What do you mean? What's going on?"

"What I mean, Jessica, is that this is one of those times when we have to say the things that we normally wouldn't say, because we're afraid of them, and we don't want them to be true."

It was her turn to stare at me.

"I... I don't know. Um. What is this about? Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Do you know where your mother is?"

"She's at that teacher conference. In New York. Isn't she?"

"First I've heard of it." I handed her the pages Stephanie had written. Jessica gasped and read them with tears streaming from her eyes while I ordered garlic knots and a sixteen inch new york style cheese pizza. I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before and I was suddenly famished. When she was done reading, she looked up at my face again and burst into a full-on sobbing fit.

I didn't stop her.

I didn't have it in me to comfort her; I didn't have any comfort to offer. I didn't tell her that everything was going to be alright; it wasn't. All I could do was nod. Yes, baby. It sucks, and it's not fair. My own tears fell onto the table in front of me, forming a smaller pool than hers. I'd already cried out gallons of them, and I was running dry.

We sat, in silence, until the garlic knots came fresh out of the oven. Fortunato's does these things amazingly. They're the size of cinnamon rolls, slathered in hot greasy butter simmered with chunks of minced and crushed garlic, there must seriously be a whole head of garlic on the plate. I dug in like the starving man I was. Jessica didn't touch them.

"What." she began, still choked up. "What. Are you gonna do?"

"I don't know, honey." I stuffed more heavenly Italian goodness into my mouth. "I only know what I'm not going to do."

"And what's that?"

"I'm not going to roll over and take it."

"You're getting a divorce?"

"I don't see any other way, honey." I fished around in my pocket and pulled out two small white envelopes. "I'm changing the locks this afternoon. Here are the new keys. One for you and one for your brother. Give it to him for me when he next comes home. I don't want to ship a key in the mail. Don't let your mother have a copy. I'll tell her not to ask."

She took them slowly, carefully, as if they might bite her.

"Have you talked to Mike yet?"

I shook my head. "I wanted to tell you both in person. You're in town, so you were first. But you're right, it's not fair to keep him out of the loop. We can call him right now. Together. If you want."

"I'll do it." She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. When the call connected, she opened with "Hey little brother." Steph and I had refused to tell them who'd been born first. Each of them insisted that they were the 'older' twin, so he called her 'little sister.' It was cute as hell. I hoped they'd always do it. "I'm here with dad. Listen. Something is up. You know that thing we used to talk about?" She was silent. "Last year. You know. About..." More silence. "Yes." Then, "No. I'm serious." Another pause. "He's right here. I'm going to put you on speaker, okay?"

She put her phone down face-up and tapped the screen.

"Hey Mike."

"Dad. I. Um. I don't know what to say. This is for real? You're sure?"

"She left a note. Jessie read it already, just now. Here, I'm sending it to you." I laid the pages out, took pictures and sent them in a message. While I was doing that, I said "So, you guys talked about this?"

"Um. Uh-huh. Only with each other."

"So you knew."

"No. No, we didn't know. Not for sure. We were worried, that's all."

"You two were always smart. To tell you the truth, I was worried, too. But I couldn't say anything. Not without making an accusation. Not without making it real."

"That's how it was with us," she said. "We didn't know what the deal was. We thought that maybe you might have had... I don't know, some kind of understanding? Maybe? We didn't want to think about it too much."

"Well. For the record, no, we never had any kind of arrangement like that. There was just your mother's demand that I was not allowed to be jealous or even suggest that I didn't trust her. That's the hardest part. I was living in a lie, driving myself crazy, and not allowed to say anything about it."

"It wasn't a lie," said Jessie. Only I could ever call her Jessie. To everyone else, even her mother, she was Jessica. "Mom loves you. She really does. I know that for sure."

"Maybe it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either."

I heard Mike gasp as he read the letter on the other end of his phone.

"No, I guess not," she admitted.

The pizza arrived. It was glorious. They know how to do New York style right. I grabbed a slice, folded it the proper way, and practically inhaled it. Once I'd scarfed enough of it down, I continued my questions.

"Were the kids at your school talking about it, too?" They'd gone to the high school where their mom worked. Was that an awkward situation? Yes, probably, but it would have been even worse if everyone was whispering that their mother was cheating on their father with the creepy weirdo music teacher.

Jessica looked ashamed. She didn't want to answer.

Mike spoke up. "Yeah. Yeah, Dad, I'm afraid they were. Nobody knew anything for sure. Nobody caught them or anything like that. There were rumors, but they were just rumors. Kids pointed and laughed and drew little cartoons that got passed around. It wasn't based on anything solid. It might have all been made up for all anybody knew. Maybe it was just because of how they were around each other, the way they looked at each other. Nothing definite. It was just childish bullshit."

"I can't help but notice that nobody has said shitweasle's name yet," I said. "But let's deal these cards face up, okay? We're all talking about the same person. Aren't we? Go ahead. Say it. I know who it is."

Mike took the cue. "Mister Davenport."

I nodded. "Yeah. She was always weird about him, and that motherfucker always gave me the creeps." I shuddered. "God knows what she sees in the little ratfuck."

Jessica looked at me with new eyes. She was not used to me swearing so much in front of her. Oh, well. I guess a new day has dawned for us all.

"I never liked him either, Daddy."

"Well. Keep right on not liking him. Especially if he becomes your new stepfather. I'd be delighted if you spit in his face every time you saw him."

"I'm not going to see him." She sat up straight. "I don't go to that school anymore. I'm mostly out of the house now, anyway. When I'm between semesters here, I'll be staying with you. Not her. I'm legally an adult now. I'm old enough to make that decision."

"Look. I don't mean to come between you and your mother. She's still your mom, and she always will be."

"Still, there's no law that says I have to have anything to do with her stupid boyfriend." She cocked her jaw defiantly. "My choice. He's a bad role model. He's a homewrecker. I'm not going to accept him."

"Me either, Dad. He was always a creepy little jerk. Especially now."

"Well. Before we all climb onto the same bandwagon, your mother is going to accuse me of turning both of you against her. I'm not doing that. Not on purpose. I don't mean to give you the impression that I am. All I want to do is reveal the truth. You've read the letter. You've heard how I feel. That's it. That's all I want to say."

They were quiet.

"Okay. I guess we're not done." I sighed. "Fine. Look. Here's what's going to happen next. Steph will come home and find the locks changed and her stuff moved into storage. Mike, Jessie's got a new key to the house for you. Maybe I'm just being dramatic. Maybe I'm just petty. Right now, I think she deserves that kind of a statement just so she knows to take me seriously. When all the dust settles, I'll probably let her keep the house. Or let her buy me out. I don't think I'll want to stay around there anyway. Nobody likes being played for a fool, and that's the place where it happened to me. My memories of my time there are going to be tainted."

"Don't say that, Dad."

"It's the truth. She used that house against me as leverage. My home, no, OUR home was in jeopardy if I spoke up. I spent something like two years there twisting myself into knots pretending that everything was all right when I knew deep down that it damn well wasn't. Why would I want to continue to live in a place like that?"

Neither one of them had anything to say about that.

"I should get going. I've got a lot to do. Oh. Jessica. I meant to ask. Have you taken any classes from Professor Deathridge? Do you know that name?"

"You mean Doctor Heartbreak?"

"Is that what they call her?"

"She's like a celebrity. Yes, I had her for psych 101 last semester. It was a big gut class with hundreds of us in the lecture, and seven or eight grad students leading the discussion sections. I didn't get to know her, but I'm looking forward to her 300 and 400 level classes when I've got the prereqs complete. Why do you ask?"

Well, she caught me flat-footed there.

"I, um. Well, I happened to meet her."

She puzzled over that for a second. Then her eyes flew open, bright as beacons, lighting me up like the searchlights on an escaping convict.

"NO. No, you DIDN'T."

"He didn't what?" asked Mike, still on speaker.

"You went to the, the, the..."

"Okay, Jessie, maybe let's not say anything more right now, okay?"

"What the heck is going on?" Mike was clearly out of the loop.

"Mike, I'll call you back," Jessie said, tapping the screen to end the call. "DAD. I cannot believe you!"

"Believe what you want. I guess Cookie makes no secret about moonlighting."

"Are you kidding? That's part of what she's famous for. That, and every man with a pulse on campus instantly falls in love with her. But she's notoriously unattached. Everybody thinks she's a lesbian."

"Maybe she is. I don't know. No business of ours."

"Of course not! But I cannot believe that my own father would go to a, a, a..."

"Okay, stop right there. You admire this woman and are looking forward to taking more of her classes, and you know she works as a dancer, so there's no shame in that, right? These days, they call that, what, 'Empowering.' So why are you so scandalized that I met her there?"

"Because you're my DAD."

"Well, I'm not one hundred percent comfortable talking about this with my daughter, either. Fifteen minutes ago, I told you that your mother had been cheating on me for years, and now I'm the bad guy because I had nowhere to go and no one to talk to when I found out, so I deliberately did something different for me. Maybe you'd have preferred it if I got blackout drunk, or maybe ate a bullet, instead."

"Don't even say that!"

"Why not? Those are the options your mother left me with. Excuse the hell out of me for going off-script, but you'd better believe I am NOT going to sit around the house feeling sorry for myself until she gets home and tries to convince me to start sharing her."

"She would never..." Jessie shook her head. "No. Yes. Yes, she would. That's exactly what she wants, isn't it?"

"Apparently so."

"And that's never going to happen, is it?"

"Nope. No way in hell."

"And you're talking to Professor Deathridge now."

"Yep."

"Well. Maybe she can help." She straightened up. "God. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my father."

"Well, I can't believe I'm having it with my daughter. We're pretty much in uncharted territory here, aren't we?"

"I guess so. Are you going to be alright?"

"Eventually, but not soon." I looked at the pizza platter. I'd eaten four of the six pieces and barely remembered doing so. "Do you want the rest of that?"

"No, thank you. You take it home. You seem to have enjoyed it, and I'm really not hungry."

My phone rang. It was Mike. I answered it, still sitting with Jessica. I put him on speaker.

"Okay, so are you going to tell me what the heck was that all about?"

"I'm just finishing here with Jessie. She's right here. I'm sorry. I'll fill you in. Or she will. I know you two are thick as thieves, and she can probably explain things better than I can."

"I don't want to be left out in the cold, here, dad."

"That's fair. I met one of her professors."

"I heard that much. Deadridge?"

"Deathridge. And your sister somehow realized where I met her."

"Where was that?"

"The Diamond Lounge."

"The... I don't know that place. Where is it?"

I said nothing.

"Dad? Where is this place? What's the..." He trailed off and was quiet for a second. "Oh. OH. Oh. I see. Um. What were you doing there?"

"I was trying to do something uncharacteristic of me. I'd just learned that my wife of twenty-two years had been happily cuckolding me and planned to continue. I needed to defy her somehow."

"Well. Okay. I guess I can see that. Yeah... that would really piss her off. Um. So. Um. What was Jessica's professor doing there?"

"Working the stage, believe it or not."

"She's young, in great shape, and very beautiful," said Jessica. "She teaches pole dancing classes at the gym on campus, too. She makes no secret of the fact that she sometimes works as a dancer. It actually earns her some measure of respect, or at least notoriety. Exactly WHERE she works, and when, is not generally known." She raised an eyebrow at me. "The Diamond Lounge, eh? That little piece of information is probably worth something on the campus gossip circuit."

"Well, heck, I'd like to see that, too," said Mike. "Maybe the next time I'm home, Dad, we can have a boys' night out."

"Okay, I am no longer comfortable with this conversation."

"Did you get a lap dance?"

"MICHAEL."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, dad. Did you?" Jessica was loving this.

"You're no better than he is."

"Answer the question."

"Fine. Yes. I got a lap dance. In fact, I got three lap dances. Yes, I saw her naked, and she looks damn good. Yes, I got to touch her, and it was great. Also, for your information, I cried my eyes out while she cuddled into my chest and just held me, for I don't even know how long. I'll even get a chance to guess the meaning of her tattoo."

"Wow." Said Mike.

"She has a tattoo?" asked Jessica.

"Yes."

"What is it? Where is it?"

"Get your own lap dance and find out."

"Mmmm. Nah. I'll just pester my daddy until you tell me. It'll be cheaper that way. More fun, too."

"Honestly, Dad," said Mike, "I cannot think of anything else that might piss mom off more than that."

"How about if I'd carried on a long term, emotionally charged love affair right under her nose for a few years and manipulated her so that she couldn't accuse me of anything and instead made her believe she was losing her damn mind?"

"Oh, you're right, that's way worse."

"Thank you."

"As fun as this has been," said Jessica, getting up from the table, "I do have a paper to write. And a lot to think about. Dad. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you're doing. Do you want to have dinner or anything?"

"Actually, yes. I need your help moving some of your mother's things into storage. Can you come by in the afternoon?"

She looked a bit crestfallen, but nodded.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll be there around three."

"I love you."

"I love you too, daddy. Don't be lonely tonight, okay?"

"I'll keep myself busy. I have a lot to do."

"Oh, um. Yeah. Okay. I love you."

She headed out the door while I reached for my phone and took it off speaker.

"Seriously, dad. You can tell me. Now that Jessica's gone... was this lady hot?"

"Scorchingly."

"Daaaamn."

"Mike, thanks for listening. I love you, son."

"I love you too, dad. Try not to do anything weird tonight. Call me when you can."

"Will do. Goodbye."

"Bye."

I ended the call, wrapped up my slices, and paid the check. It was a nice enough day, so I started walking. Walking is good.

The campus bookstore wasn't far. I went in and headed straight to the 'Faculty Publications' section. Sure enough, they had copies of the books Cookie had written, both published by the university press. The first one was "The Iconography of Commodified Desire: Subjectivity, Objectification, and the Intersections of Race, Gender, and Class in the Post-Modern, Post-Feminist Adult Entertainment Labor Economy." The other one was "Professor Slut: My life as an academic by day and stripper by night." It had a much racier cover featuring a cartoon silhouette of a bombshell woman wearing pasties, a g-string, and an academic mortarboard. I bought them both.

I got back in my car, and stopped at a liquor store on the way home to load up on empty cardboard boxes. The banks were closed for the holiday, but I decided to do what I needed to do online. I called one of those "pod" storage unit places and arranged to have a locker delivered to the house the next day. Once home, I set to work with a screwdriver to install the new set of knobs and deadbolts. I also reprogrammed the code for the garage door opener. I had to look up the manual online and go out there with a flashlight to reset the DIP switches, but it wasn't that hard.