Swim, Butterfly Ch. 14

No Clouds

We survive the six-hour road trip south to my parents' house in Virginia with the help of brown paper grab bags, snacks, and Dollar Store toys. In my haste to put final touches on packing, I had left the previous day's mail on the coffee table and Pete saw the promotional Winter Weekend Special flyer, on a specific weekend, from the Seawinder Hotel in Cape May. I wish he hadn't seen it, but I'm relieved he didn't throw it out. He probably thinks it's junk mail, but it's not. I know it's a very special trip to the shore.

I feel like Pete's relieved we're not spending Christmas in the ear-busting company of his family, despite the long drive to my folks. We arrive, greet Mom and Dad with hugs, and four travel bags spill out all over the guest room. After quick trips to the bathroom, Rudy and June converge on the living room to count and recount how many gifts they each have under the tree.

I sit at the granite countertop bar by the kitchen of this open-concept house, watching the kids, smiling, sipping Riesling from a thin-stemmed wine glass. Watch yourself. I know, I know. I must stop at the tipping point, beyond which I'd spill my guts and venom to Pete, ruining the holidays and probably my marriage and breaking my promise to Jimmy, all in one blow. Talk about efficient! I was stupid to even start drinking, but if I didn't drink right now, it would look weird. Mom and Dad always have a glass in the evening, and I've always joined them.

I keep my promise to Jimmy in mind, which leads me to think about the affair. I know it's wrong, but with my working life gone, my identity gone, I feel like my reason for existing beyond the day-to-day has gone, and the time is not right for another life change. Jimmy restores me, all the little chinks I felt falling away, whatever made up me before, before Dishes-n-Laundry, slowly fills in, healing from the inside out.

I take the last sip, and set the empty wine glass gingerly on the counter, careful not to crack the glass's wide, round foot. One last drop of Riesling rolls around, frantic to hop into my mouth and tempt me into another drink. No. I want to call Jimmy. I shake my head 'no' when Mom holds up the wine bottle. Then I roll several excuses for going outside around in my head:

I want to stretch my legs.

I want to see if the stars are out.

I need to get something out of the car.

I settle on the best excuse--no excuse at all. I go to the guest room and rustle around for a minute, as if looking for something, then simply sneak out the door with my phone and without my coat. A flutter in my stomach, I walk down the street past a few houses, my eyes wide in the dark and cold, watching for neighbors milling about in their driveways or at their windows. I see no one. I cuddle up against the trunk of a large tree, in the shadow opposite the streetlight. Since it's the night before Christmas Eve, I guess it's okay to call Jimmy. Just before the phone normally goes to voice mail, he answers,

"Hello!"

"Hey, Jimmy, happy holidays!"

"Ho, ho, you naughty girl, this is Santa Claus. You dialed the wrong number."

"Ooo, Santa, I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make it right. I'll even give you a smooch under the mistletoe, anywhere you want it." I coo.

Silence, then, "You always talk to Santa this way?"

My heart thuds. Did someone else answer Jimmy's phone? Friend or relative, maybe? "Uh, no, frankly, no, but I... could I speak to Jimmy, please?"

"Just a moment, lady."

My hand shakes. I peer around the tree. No one's around. "Jimmy?" I whisper into the phone. I hear a laugh.

"Of course it's me! Please don't tell me you really thought it was Santa!"

"Oh, fuck you! Of course not, but for a moment, I thought someone else answered your phone!" I giggle, despite feeling sick. "You'd make one hell of a Santa, though, delivering something special to ladies everywhere." I wipe a thin ribbon of sweat off my forehead even though my breath condenses in the cold, then dissipates among the crystal stars.

"Sure, maybe I could put it in a stocking?" he suggests.

"Ha ha, a big ol' cock sock! I wish you could. I wish I could get all of you in my Christmas stocking."

"You still have a stocking?"

I snort, "No, Jimmy, I do not still have a Christmas stocking, but if I did, I'd want you in it. Can I sit on your lap, though, and tell you what I want for Christmas?"

"Mm, you bet," he sighs, "I miss you, Caroline."

"I miss you, too. Where are you? What are you doing?"

"I'm lying on my old bed at my parent's house, listening to you, stroking myself," his voice lowers.

"I wish I could help you."

"You are."

"I'm thinking about a trip to Cape May next month." I lean harder into the tree and hold my hands over the phone, as if anyone could hear me.

"Yeah?"

"I'll have to bring the kids."

"Put them to bed early."

"Will you be alone?" I ask.

I hear him take a deep breath. "No."

"Oh. Do you wanna say anything else about that?"


"Shh, not now. I told you what I'm doing," he responds.

"Is it dark?"

"Yes."

"Am I near you?"

"Yes."

"I want to trace my fingers along with yours," I say.

"Okay...," his voice trails off, dreamy and breathy.

I shiver. I left my coat inside so as not to bring attention to myself, "I want to put my mouth on your cock, I want to warm it up all over with my tongue," my bottom lip shudders.

"I want you to do that. I feel you here...,'" he pants. "Uh, are you excited, too, or just shivering?"

"Both. I'm outside."

He laughs, "Go inside, then. I'll finish off. You're still here with me."

"Jimmy, I love you. I miss you."

"I love you, too," he whispers. I nearly hang up when he says, "Caroline?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

I walk back to the house with shoulders slumped and arms wrapped around myself. Maybe I'm sobered up enough for another glass. Maybe. I look at the stars one more time before I go back in. Pete frowns and asks where I've been.

"Wine made me woozy, Ji... Pete, so I went outside to clear my head."

"Without your coat? I think you've had enough. Why don't you go to bed," Pete says.

I take a step towards him to kiss him goodnight, but stop; I can't kiss a man with hard, flinty eyes. June and Rudy laugh with Grandpa in the living room, so I step around Pete and go to the guest room to avoid a scene. Climbing into bed between chilly sheets, I fall asleep with visions of Jimmy dancing in my head.

***

The world stops over Christmas break, or maybe it's just me. Spending morning to night in pajamas, I binge watch the BRAVO channel, eat whatever I want whenever I want. Pete helps Grandpa around the yard and the house, and the kids play with old toys from the closet and new ones from under the tree. I'm sure Jesus would turn in His grave if He'd stayed there, knowing how I spend this holiday created in His honor.

With everyone distracted, I ponder why it's wrong to have two men, and whether I can cultivate a relationship with one while maintaining a relationship with the other. I wonder how long I can divert attention from Pete because I'm thinking about Jimmy, and what kind of relationship I can have with Jim since I'm married to Pete. And then, of course, what will Jimmy want from me, eventually? Sometimes I wish I could ride on a wrinkle in time, a magic carpet, and land at an age or place closer to Jim. I'll have to make my own time warp, I guess.

One afternoon towards the end of vacation at my parents', I grab a few burnt cookies and sit by the bay window in the living room. I marvel at the beauty of the sky; some days textured with rich clouds every shade of gray, some nights peppered with pretty stars, and today, deep, pure cerulean. No answers in the heavens for me this afternoon, but maybe just as well that it's blank, no words, no symbols etched upon it.

"Caroline?" I flinch when Pete squeezes my shoulder.

"Huh! Yes?"

Pete leans towards my ear, "There are no clouds in the sky," then he hands me a white box tied with pink ribbon. "I didn't want to give this to you in front of the family."

I look up at him and smile. The box rests on my lap as I untie the ribbon, lift the lid, and... oh God, please, no!

A set of the lacy pink lingerie I saw in Cape May lies neatly folded in the rustling pink tissue paper. I gulp, then force myself to gush, "Oh, thank you!" I pass my hand over Pete's ear and pull him to me for a quick kiss, "I... love it!"

Pete smiles, squeezing my shoulder again, "I figured you'd never buy it yourself, so I snuck back down to the shore one day and bought it. I hope you like it."

I peek at the tag. It's the wrong size.