The Slumber Party Ch. 16

"Um, Julia," she said (Julia had insisted on being referred to by her first name—collegiality, and all that), "there's someone here to see you."

Julia frowned. That was unusually imprecise and indecisive for Andrea. "Well, who is it?"

"He says," Andrea said with utter bewilderment, "he's your husband."

A chill went through Julia, and for a time she couldn't see straight.

Just at that moment, the door to her office burst open, and Julia could hear Andrea say futilely, "Sir, you can't just go in there—" But the man paid no attention, and in another second Julia was face to face with her husband, Arthur Waters.

Both of them seemed frozen in time—Julia staring wide-eyed at the man she hadn't seen in six months, and Arthur, disheveled, disconsolate, and a little crazed, staring open-mouthed at the woman who had been his wife for twenty-two years.

Andrea was trying to bring order to the scene. "Julia, I told him he didn't have an appointment. Shall I call security?"

Julia was slow in responding, as if she hadn't heard a word Andrea had said. When Andrea said, "Julia?" the other replied in a dreamy voice, "Never mind. I'll deal with this."

Arthur Waters seemed to collapse with relief. As Andrea reluctantly closed the door behind them, he fell back into the chair facing Julia's desk. She now saw that his face was covered with sweat, and his clothes didn't seem to fit very well. He really looked pretty awful. He was a big man, just over six feet tall, with a barrel chest and big hands. But right now he seemed like a balloon that had had all its air let out of it.

Julia slowly sat back down in her own chair. For a good many moments she said nothing, and she noticed that Arthur could scarcely endure to look at her. At last she said bluntly:

"What are you doing here, Arthur?"

The tone of her voice was not reassuring. It was hard, unyielding, even hostile. Still looking away from her, he grimaced and said, "I had to see you."

"Why?" she said in the same tone of voice. Why aren't you snuggling with your floozie down in Portland?

Arthur seemed on the brink of tears, and that very fact unnerved Julia. He had rarely shown any great breadth of emotion during their marriage, and now he looked so hopeless and depressed that Julia couldn't help feeling a modicum of sympathy. I was married to this guy for more than two decades—in fact, I guess I'm still technically married to him, since neither of us have begun divorce proceedings. It would be impossible for me to feel nothing for him.

But that didn't mean she was going to make it easy for him. He had, after all, left her in the lurch to bed down with someone he clearly thought more appealing and attractive. Ever since she had let Rod into her life, her own self-esteem as a woman had increased by leaps and bounds, and she now knew she was a lovely and desirable female. If people like Arthur didn't think so, well, too bad for them.

Arthur had lapsed into a kind of stupefied silence, so Julia prodded again with, "Why aren't you with—what's her name?"

"Cali," he muttered.

Ah, yes, Cali. What a ridiculous name! It's as if someone was starting to pronounce a certain Western state and couldn't finish.

"So why aren't you—?"

"We're not together anymore," Arthur blurted out.

There was a deafening silence.

An uncontrollable tremor overwhelmed Julia from head to foot, and she actually had to clutch the desk so that she wouldn't slide off of her chair and onto the floor. Again her vision went blurry, and her mouth was suddenly dry.

"So you're not together, eh?" Julia said acidly. "What a shame."

Arthur didn't let Julia's snide tone affect him. Instead, he suddenly covered his face in his hands and, between his fingers, managed to cry out:

"Oh, God, Julia, I was so stupid and selfish! She was—she was a horrible person! She used me! Okay, I let her use me, but she used me all the same. I didn't know it, but she'd just been dumped by some guy, and she was so angry that she deliberately set about seducing me—just so she could cast me away afterwards! She didn't care that she was destroying a marriage—she only wanted revenge against any and all males for what this one guy had done to her. And I let it happen! I'm not trying to make excuses: I acted abominably, and I treated you in a way no woman should ever be treated. But I just lost my head, and I genuinely thought I was in love with her. How could I have been such a contemptible idiot! It's you I love, Julia, it's you!"

Julia didn't know what to make of this astounding outburst. She took no note of that last statement, thinking it patently insincere. The rest of Arthur's story was offensive enough, and she said tartly:

"So you expect to come running back to me after your little mistake, do you? You expect me to greet you with open arms, is that it?"

"No, no!" he cried. "No, of course not. But I just wanted to let you know what happened."

"Well, you have. Thanks. You can go now."

The laconic sharpness of her tone caused Arthur's face to crumple up like a used tissue. "Oh, Julia, please let me explain!"

"I thought you had."

"No, there's more—more about me, and you, and us. Please! Just let me—"

"What more could there possibly be to discuss?"

"There is! There is!"

"I don't think so."

Then Arthur did something remarkable. Falling clumsily to his knees, he scooted over to Julia's side of the desk. She tried to retreat, but there was no place to go, and in seconds Arthur had wrapped his arms around Julia's midsection while plunging his face into her skirt.

"Arthur, what on earth are you doing?" she cried.

"Please, please!" he whined, holding her tighter. Under any other circumstances, it might have seemed as if Arthur was planning to give her oral sex. "Please let me talk to you some more! There's a lot I have to say!"

"Arthur, please!" Julia said. Now his large head was pressed to her groin. "This is my office! You can't do this here!"

He held his head up, looking pathetic. "Julia, I beg you, let's talk some more. Not here, of course—somewhere else. A coffee shop, a restaurant, anything."

She had tried to pry his head away, but he was determined to cling to her.

"All right," she said in defeat. "All right, Arthur. We can talk sometime. But not here, and not now. I have work to do."

For the first time since he had burst into her office, he smiled—shakily and hesitantly, it is true. He clambered up to his feet and stumbled back to his chair.

"Thank you," he said with overwhelming emotion. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she said, smoothing her skirt as best she could.

"Where?" he said.

"Where what?"

"Where can we meet to talk?"

"Oh, God, Arthur, I don't know! Anywhere."

"A Starbucks?"

"No, that's not good." Most Starbucks she had seen were pretty exposed in terms of their seating. They would need a place that had a booth for some minimal privacy. "How about the Sunflower Café? You remember where that is?"

"Yeah," he said. "Sixty-fifth Street."

"Right."

"When?"

"Oh, maybe in a few days . . ."

"A few days?" he said, crestfallen. "Why not tomorrow?" Today was Friday, so presumably Julia would not be working on Saturday.

She couldn't come up with any prevarication on the spot. "All right, tomorrow. How about around four o'clock?"

"That—that would be wonderful," he said, getting choked up. Then he added: "You've moved out of Issaquah."

"I have," she said shortly.

"I don't know where you live now."

She made no response to that. Instead, she said: "How did you know I was working here?"

"LinkedIn," he said.

She rolled her eyes. I knew I shouldn't have signed up for that.