Other People's Houses(80)

“I’m angrier with your husband, but seeing as you’re the one that put him into this filthy mood then I guess I’m a little angry with you, too. But now I need to get back to my kids, and I can’t stay and hold your hand. Call your mom. Call your brothers. Pull it together, Anne.”

She’d walked out knowing Anne wasn’t going to pull it together, and comfortable with the fact that she really didn’t give a fuck.

Now, the next morning, Frances felt exhausted. She turned her head to look at Michael and found him already awake and looking at her.

“‘Jesus wept,’” she said. “You scared me.”

“Score,” he replied, smiling.

“Why are you awake? Are you OK?” She pulled her hand out from under the sheets and stroked his head. His face was so dear to her, and so familiar.

“Yeah. Yesterday sucked. I had bad dreams about it.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s not do that to each other. Let’s grow old and be boring together forever.” She paused. “It was a bit embarrassing.”

“The massive revelation that we don’t have a lot of sex?”

She nodded.

He shrugged. “I’m happy, are you happy?” She nodded. “Then fuck the neighbors, who gives a shit what they think?” He looked closely at her. “Do you think Charlie knew there was a problem before?” Frances said nothing, so he continued. “What if you’re really cheating on me this whole time, and just doing a really good job of hiding it?”

She laughed. “The idea of willingly taking my clothes off in front of another person is absurd. If you and I divorced, I would sew my vagina shut, get fifteen cats, and let myself go completely.”

Michael laughed. “That seems extreme. You’re wonderful. I expect you would be a hot commodity on the open market.”

Frances rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because an extra thirty pounds and three kids is what all single men want. I can read the dating profile now: Single man seeks overweight, middle-aged woman to ignore his input while raising her children. Willing to share school run and homework duties in return for annual blow job (not guaranteed).” She sat up and threw back the covers. “And Playboy called me the other day hoping I could make time for a centerfold shoot.” She stood and faced him, naked and smiling. “Because this”—she indicated her gentle rolls—“is incredibly hot.”

“I love looking at you.”

“You’re used to it.”

“That’s true. I’m used to it and I love it.”

Frances sat back down and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I went to a sex shop the other day and bought a vibrator and some fur-lined handcuffs.”

Michael burst out laughing. “My penis isn’t good enough for you?”

Frances reached under the covers. “It’s totally fine, but I don’t feel it vibrating.” There was a pause, then she smiled. “That isn’t vibrating.”

“Look, it’s movement. Give me a break.”

“Mommy!!!” Lally’s voice rang down the hall.

“And . . . that’s you,” said Michael, snuggling under the sheets. “Good luck hiding that shit from the kids, by the way.”



* * *



? ? ?

Down the street Charlie was horribly hungover and ashamed of himself. It was not a good combination, and he was wondering if he would ever feel like eating again, or be able to face the outside world. Sadly, sheltering in place was not an option in this particular battle.

“Hey, Theo,” he said to his son, gently shaking the sleeping child. “It’s time to get up for school.” Theo grunted and pulled the covers over his head. “Come on, buddy, time to shake a leg. Do you want some OJ?” The lump shook its head.

Charlie wandered down the hall to Kate’s room, and found her already dressed and sitting on her floor, playing with her sizeable collection of little animal figures. There were ponies, weirdly big-headed animals of all varieties, and the obligatory elongated dolls with odd makeup on. He didn’t know what they were called, and thought they looked like extras in a German fetish movie, but who was he to judge?

“You’re already dressed,” he said, surprised. Kate nodded, but didn’t say anything. “Do you want some breakfast?” She shook her head. “Toast?” No. “Eggs?” No. “Cheerios?”

Finally, she turned to look at him, and frowned. “No thanks, Daddy. I’m not hungry. I woke up really early and got myself something already.”

“You did?” She nodded, already back at her game. “OK, well, great. Time for school in twenty minutes or so, OK?”

She looked back at him. “Are you taking us?”

“Do you want me to?”

Back to the dolls. “No. I like when Frances takes us.”

OK. He heard noise from Theo’s room, and went back there. Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed pulling on his socks, more or less dressed. His eyes were swollen, and Charlie stepped over to feel his forehead. Theo ducked his head away, and frowned at his dad. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “How long until school?”

“About twenty minutes.”

Theo went back to his socks, ignoring Charlie for the thirty more seconds he stood there wondering how to reach his kids, and why he was suddenly the bad guy when Anne was the one who cheated. As if reading his mind Theo suddenly looked up and said, “You know, you could just forgive Mom and let her come back and everything would be just like it was before.”