Swim, Butterfly Ch. 08

For the Second Time

I enjoyed vacation. I did. Yet I cry over the sink. The kids had fun and Pete and I had a few moments to talk uninterrupted, but yeah, we're back home, back to back-to-back dishes laundry yammering chores errands groceries dishes laundry. How about a little inspiration, or insight, or excitement? While unloading the dishwasher and dropping cheap white bowls into the cupboard, I wonder what Jimmy's doing. After dishwasher thrills, I switch to vacation laundry adventure, neglected for a few days.

In the no-man's-land of the basement laundry room, I parse the dirty laundry from a big plastic bag; a pile for damp bathing suits, one for sandy shorts and little t-shirts, one for musty towels. The least offensive clothing flies directly into the washing machine abyss--call me Minos! I have a nagging desire to call Jimmy, but it's four o'clock, and I don't know if that's a good time to call. He's possibly taking a nap or running errands or contemplating a few finishing touches before he goes out. I have a brilliant idea; I'll text him with a painfully short, specific time to contact me, if he wants.

I emerge from the laundry room and badger the phone from Rudy, busy playing Mine-something, and disappear into the laundry room again. I bring up Jimmy's number to send a text, then stop. There's a better chance of someone discovering a text than a phone call, especially since I'm foolish enough to let the kids play with the phone. They wouldn't pay attention to a phone log, but texts? Maybe.

Pete went to Home Depot and won't be home for about an hour. I dial Jimmy's number while I nestle in a pile of unfolded towels. Jimmy's phone rings, and eventually goes to voice mail: 'Hey, you've reached 212-555-8701. I'll get back to you soon as I want.' Sounds kind of cheeky for someone who works in public relations. Maybe he has two phones.

Should I?

Anyway, it's good to hear his voice, but sort of sad and shocking to hear it as a recorded message. I want to talk to him, not a recording. Oh, just speak!

"Uh, hi Jimmy, it's, uh, Caroline. I hope you're doing well Been thinking of you...if you can call back within the next twenty minutes that would be nice If you can't I'll try another time, um, I hope you got my letter Take care." Hang up. I've never left a faster voice mail in my life.

I shove the phone in my pocket and head back upstairs. I don't have much in the way of dinner planned. Spaghetti and sauce, I guess. Not my favorite on a hot summer day, but it's easy and everyone likes it. I'll grocery shop tomorrow. Shit, I'll have to go with the kids, which is always a ball-breaker, but it'll kill an hour or two and I won't have to hear Pete bitch that there's no milk in the fridge.

"Who was on the phone, Mom?" Rudy asks, peering around the doorway of his room as I crest the basement steps.

"Just leaving a message for someone. Why?" It's really none of his business.

"In the basement? Ew! There's dead spiders down there!"

"Yeah, well, that's because no one feeds them, and that's why I don't let you guys get pets. Leave me alone."

"Can I play on the phone again?"

"No, I'm expecting a call."

"Oh, come on! If anyone calls, I'll give you your phone..." Rudy whines.

I nearly jump when the phone vibrates in my pocket. "Rudy, shut up! There's my call now. Maybe later."

Heart beating fast, my sweaty hand fishes the slippery phone from my pocket, nearly dropping it again. I look at the screen--oh, it's my mom. My heart drops, but I smile widely to get in a chipper mood, then answer, "Hey Mom, what's up?" My voice a pitch higher than normal.

"Hi, just thought I'd call and see how your vacation went. Haven't spoken to you in a while."

"Oh, it was good. We all had a good time. Just got home a few days ago." I wrestle a Freeze-Pop out of the freezer and slide-kick it into Rudy's room. Then I bang around in the kitchen cupboards for sauce and spaghetti.

"So, how does it feel to be back home? You guys haven't had a family vacation in a while," Mom asks.

"Oh, you know, it's the same ol' same ol'. Back to dishes, laundry, yelling at the kids."

"Ah well, they'll be back in school soon and..."

... beep... beep... beep...Shit! Jimmy calling back.

"Uh, Mom, sorry, but I've got a call coming in that I have to take! Sorry!" I hang up on her and switch the call, "Hey, Jimmy!" Oops, don't shout out his name, idiot.

"Hey, sensation, how are you?"

"I'm doing okay, and you?" I cradle the phone in my hand, as if hiding it.

"Ah, you know, hangin' in there. You're getting bold, calling and leaving messages! I'm proud of you." Jimmy says.

I escape outside to the front steps, although it's about 90 degrees out. I don't want June or Rudy to hear my conversation. "Whew, okay, outside now. Thank you for your compliment. I want you to think highly of me. Did you get my letter?"

"Why yes, I did! It brightened my day."

"Good. I was worried about the address on the envelope. At first, I wasn't sure if the packet was from you. The little sketch, though, that little hill at the park." I say.

"Our meeting spot, so to speak, where I was creepy and watched you sleep."

"Well, in retrospect, I'm glad you noticed me. I'm a very lucky woman."

"Yes, you are!" Jimmy laughs. Then he's quiet for a moment. "So, you still think about me?"

"Yes." I inhale sharply.

"So when you coming to see me again?"

"Maybe September. The kids go back to school. I'll have some days free." I murmur into the phone.

"It's been four months. I'd really like to see you again." Jimmy presses. Butterflies take wing in my stomach.

"I know. I'd like to see you too. Please let me think about what I can do, which right now with the kids around isn't much." I reply.

"Yeah, I know. Caroline, this may sound weird, but do you ever think of me when you're with Pete?"

"Yes." I whisper. I hear him chuckle.

"Do you wish it was me mounting you, and fucking you?"

"Yes..."

"How do I know? What do you imagine?" Jimmy switches to his deeper voice.

I take a long, unsteady breath. "I see your face, imagine your tongue deep in my mouth, in my pussy, like a melting ice cube, so cold it burns," I put both of my hands over the phone. I'm dying to go upstairs and relieve myself with Jimmy on the phone, but I hear Pete's truck rumbling up the street.

"Shit! Pete's back early. Fuck, I gotta' go."

"No. Stay. How does he know who's on the phone?"

"No Jimmy! Igottago!"

"You miss me?"

"Yes!"

"Get your ass up here."

"I will."

Pete pulls into the driveway, eyeing me as I pace the front yard in ninety degree heat, phone glued to my ear.

"When?" Jimmy asks.

Pete opens the door of his truck, watching me.

"Soon," I hiss, then shout, "Bye, Mom!"

For the second time this afternoon, I hang up on 'Mom'.

***

Soon. June mucks about in a street puddle left by a late summer shower. I post watch from the front steps to make sure no one runs her over or steals her. The mailman makes his way down the street, walking from house to house. When finally he makes it to our home, I say hi and thank him for the mail.

I leaf through and find a small padded envelope addressed to me. Hm, I didn't order anything lately. The return address says 'Fortune House'. My breath hitches, then I chuckle, wondering what the hell he sent me now. Keeping one eye on June, I open the package. Inside, there's about twenty small pieces of paper, cut from a Chinese restaurant placemat with handwriting or lines on the blank sides. I inspect a few pieces and realize that it's a puzzle. Jimmy's way of making me put time aside for him? I have little time for myself; he has a lot of time to himself, as far as I can tell. He has no one at home. I have many. Sometimes I envy his single life, and wonder if he envies my family life. Two strange peas in a pod, cherishing privacy and stability yet still wandering, seeking.

I dig further in the envelope and find a small package wrapped in green tissue paper, which I unwrap, the paper dry and crunchy like summer grass. Inside the paper, I find a copper ring in the shape of two intertwining dragons, writhing and coming back around to face each other. I try to slip it on a finger, but June, splattered in watery mud, runs toward the house. "Take a bath!" I bark, frowning, then smirking as she and her mud-splattered calves hop into the house.Playfulness. Why do adults forget it? Shame.

I stuff the envelope into my pocketbook, then follow June to the bathroom and start a bubbly tub for her.

"Whattcha' get, Mom?" June asks.

"Huh?"

"The package. What did you get?"

"Oh, just paperwork." I answer, dribbling rose-scented bubble bath while my other hand stirs the warm water, rehydrating memories. I smile, wondering on which finger the ring will fit best. I'll try it on while June's taking a bath.

"Mom, I'm ready. Go away now!" I snap out of it and look up. June's wrapped a towel around her smooth, youthful nakedness. I blink, then abandon her to the bubbles.

Rudy went to a friend's house for the afternoon and Pete's not home yet, so I sit at the kitchen table with peace and quiet, sipping an iced tea and playing with the copper ring, which fits my right ring finger. Rotating the ring, I wonder if anyone will notice it. We'll see. I hope not.

The day whiles away; June and her rubber duckies and froggies soak extra-long in the tub, then she moves straight into her baggy yellow pajamas. Eventually Pete, then Rudy, come home, and at 5:30, I serve ever-popular spaghetti for dinner. Pete stirs his spaghetti and sauce around his plate. Rudy eats without a word. The busy day seemed to wear him out. I eat small, slow bites, observing how each person eats in their own style.

I focus on June. She looks at my hand, then at me, "Where'd you get the ring, Mom?"

"Etsy."

"In that package?"

"Yes." I reply, watching my spaghetti slip from my fork.

"You said that was paperwork."

"Well, there was paperwork with it, too, June. I didn't want you to get upset because you didn't get anything." I answer, frowning. What's with these kids all up in my business?

"Oh. I thought maybe Daddy gave you that ring."

Without looking up, not even once, Pete says, "I got Mommy a wedding ring. That's all the jewelry a woman needs."

***

After dinner, Pete plays an action movie that's ninety percent special effects and ten percent plot. I'd rather scrub dead skin off my feet. At least that feels good. June and especially Rudy sit glued to this crap, so I steal away with my pocketbook to the den, shut the door, and sit at the desk.

Ironically, despite the clutter, no one really uses the desk. It's more of a junk heap and used for paying bills, but then I notice Pete's high school biology book lying on top. I pick it up, trace my finger along the title, then shimmy it back into the bookshelf. I clear a space on the desk large enough for, oh say, a paper placemat, and pour the puzzle pieces into the space. The sound of overblown explosions fills the living room, yet still I pray no one disturbs me.

I flip all the print-side pieces over so that all I see is the menu side. I sort out the corners and straight-edged pieces, like I would any other puzzle. Arranging the four corners first, I then fill in all the sides and tape a little here and there. I fill in the middle, and when it's complete, tape it together. The actual message lies on the other side. I flip it over.

A flowing line drawing of lovers with limbs entwined and a poem encircling the enraptured couple decorates the blank side:

Long ago on a rainy night,

We met each other in love's delight.

I wish to kiss you, wish for more,

Wish for you knocking at my door.

If I can't wind my arms around your limbs,

Then humor me with this little whim--

Write me a letter, every day of the week,

Until we whisper, lips to lips, cheek to cheek.

Love, Jimmy

(corny, I know!)

((and it wasn't raining that night!!))

I laugh softly, tears welling. He has beautiful handwriting with long, elegant, fluid letters of another era. I hear footsteps approaching and toss a handful of paperwork over the puzzle.

"Mom? You in there?" Rudy asks.

"No."

I wipe the tears on my sleeves. I get up briskly, pull the puzzle out from underneath the papers, fold it, and shove it into my day runner. Someday I'm going to have to get a safe for all these letters and trinkets and hide the safe where no one else goes, like the cupboard with the pots and pans, or the laundry room.

Rudy thumps on the door, lets himself in, and launches into a painfully detailed description of the movie. I smile and nod and fidget with the dragon ring as he rambles on, but he deserves some uninterrupted time with me, so I interject an 'ooh' and 'aah' when it seems appropriate. I wonder what Jimmy's doing right now. Getting ready to go out? An appointment, perhaps. I snicker, boy, those public relationists sure are dedicated.

Rudy stops, "What's funny, Mom?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just sounds like an exciting movie. Hey, I got a couple more bills to pay, so why don't you go out and watch the rest of it so you can tell me the end?" Oops, I don't pay the bills. Pete does. That's an adult detail, but I hope Rudy doesn't notice, anyway.

He hops off the daybed and runs back to the living room, without closing the door to the den. I smile; at least Rudy's having some fun. I hope Jimmy's having some fun, too, but also being safe, and I don't just mean rubbers. I mean, how many women does he fool around with, and how many of them might have jealous husbands? Maybe I should ask. Maybe I should say something about it. Jimmy requested a letter a day, so I rustle up a sheet of paper,

Dear Jimmy,

Thank you kindly for the puzzle. The kids enjoyed putting it together. Just

kidding! Is there really a Fortune House? Where'd you get the menu? Perhaps we can go

someday.

I wear the dragon ring on my right ring finger. I assume that's us or are you trying to tell me

I have dragon breath? And I didn't know that you write poetry. It's lovely! But on the pragmatic side, can you recommend me something to read? What are your favorite books? Mine is The House on the Strand by Daphne duMaurier. She also wrote Rebecca, which you probably know already. I haven't read it yet, myself.

Anyways, to continue our inter-textual relationship, we had a dark and stormy night recently, and the clean, cool day after gave me hope of seeing you again soon.

I'll do my best to write to you every day, until we can speak again, our lips inches apart. At that point, though, I doubt we'll be doing much talking. I could do all the talking while your mouth is all over my pussy. I think I'm going to cum just thinking about it ; )

Well, I better go before I get so horny that I even want to fuck my husband!

Please help me!
 Love, Caroline