He looked up at me with those big, sad eyes, drool hanging from his mouth. “Mommy, I don't feel so good.”
I leaned against the doorframe. “You don't say, buddy.” I caught my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. Dare I say she was pretty?
After I washed his face, cleaned up the mess, and put him back in bed, William, hot with fever, held my hand in his. “Why are you so dressed up? Is it a special day?”
I thought of Monica and our fated meeting that wasn't meant to be. “Nope. Just a day to get you better. Now I'll call Grandma to give your brother a ride to school, and you and I can stay home and be bums.”
Monica didn't answer when I called her, which was for the best. As a mother herself, I was sure she'd understand. I'd waited for two years for the truth. What was two more weeks?
When da Vinci came into the kitchen later wearing only a pair of khaki shorts and flip-flops-much too cool for early November- he shrugged me off when I hugged him from behind. He was not a morning person and on this day, perhaps he had a sugar hangover.
He sipped his coffee and scrutinized my face. “Too much makeup,” he said. “I like you plain.”
So that's what it was. Someone like da Vinci is attracted to Plain Janes with soft tushes. Go figure. “Well, you can't please everybody.”
“I won't be home tonight. Study hall at the fraternity.”
“You joined a fraternity? But you said they were juvenile.” I felt hurt he hadn't asked me first.
“They are juvenile, but they promised free tutoring. And they have nice gym in basement.”
There was no way in hell I would let da Vinci drag me to frat parties. Why didn't he just break up with me now and get it over with? “Well, if that's what you want.”
He sat at the breakfast bar and I tossed dry toast to him. In the last few days, I'd felt more like his short-order cook than his girlfriend. Hadn't I thought just the opposite weeks ago? When he'd first moved in, he had cooked more for me than I had for him. Da Vinci took a bite of the toast and eyed me evenly. “We are learning American history slaves,” he said. “Did you know the masters used to keep their black lovers in small house in back of property?”
I could feel my cheeks burn and wondered if I should let it slide. Had Cortland been planting something in da Vinci's ear? Da Vinci, love slave? How could he possibly think that? “I've heard that,” I said coolly. “Perhaps you should move into the fraternity house, then. You can work out all the time that way.”
“Smells like urine and beer,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, I want to move into your bed. I'm beginning to think I not good enough for you.”
I exhaled. Here I thought I was the jealous one. Da Vinci wasn't just jealous of Cortland, but of my dead husband, and rightly so. Though Joel was gone, his territory was still clearly marked. “Oh, honey. It's not that. It's just doesn't feel right. I'm going to buy a new bed, then I promise you are welcome in it.” I couldn't take it back after I 'd said it, and it had clearly pleased him.
Da Vinci softened. “Really? For true?” He got out of his seat and wrapped his arms around me. “This makes me happy. Let's go for run. Work off Tootsie candies.”
“Sorry, can't. William's sick in bed. Better stay inside in case he needs me.”
Da Vinci groaned and took his mug with him. “ Ciao. ”
“Don't party too hard at the frat house.”
“No party. Only study,” he said.
Right. As if I were born yesterday.
He didn't come home that night. I knew because I'd snuck into his studio at 2 a.m. and then again at 7 a.m., and his futon was still in couch mode. I took the opportunity to pick up his candy wrappers because I minded getting chocolate goo on my slippers and grabbed the six coffee mugs that were beginning to grow mold. Da Vinci was looking more like Homer Simpson and less like Romeo with each passing day.
With the boys both healthy and back in school, I decided to venture to the department stores for lingerie and a bed, not my typical shopping excursion. I'd never been good at shopping for frilly undergarments, so I'd just grabbed a black teddy (widows wear black, right?) and a few silk panties, and got the hell out of Dodge. I always feared I would run into a parent from the school, but I hadn't considered that they might be worried about what I thought, too. Parents were supposed to pretend we didn't have a sex life, especially a saucy one that included sexy, lacy things.
As for the bed, I couldn't afford anything nice, I was sure, but I could at least get a firm mattress and something with a headboard and footboard. Nothing fancy. Joel was practical and frugal, and so was I. So am I. That wouldn't change.
An hour later, I lay on a king-sized bed that seemed to swallow me, wondering if I should just get a nice double bed for when I would be all alone again. Da Vinci had probably hooked up with a loose college hottie, and I would spend all this money on a big bed, only to find myself drowning in its space.
The salesperson, a fidgety fellow named Carl, grew tired of my indecision. I was tired of it, too. I had sat, lain and even booty-bounced on all twelve beds they offered, but I recalled that this is why I had never bought new furniture with Joel. I was certain whatever I picked in the store would look terrible once I got it home.
“This is an excellent choice,” Carl said, as he rolled a pen between his fingers.
“Yes, but you said that about the last three,” I reminded him. This headboard was mission-style. Too casual? But the Victorian one was too formal and none of them felt just right.
“What's the matter, Goldilocks? Can't get comfortable?” a voice said, emerging from behind a Ralph Lauren rack.
“Cortland,” I said, my voice singing with surprise.
Carl rolled his eyes. “Thank goodness. Your husband to the rescue, I presume?”
“No.”
“A friend to the rescue,” Cortland corrected.
“My sister's boyfriend,” I told Carl, who began tapping his pen on a clipboard. I noticed his fingernails had been chewed back. Customers like me probably drove the man crazy.
“I'm happy to help,” Cortland said.
“Shouldn't you be putting someone to sleep right now?”
“Oh, boy,” Carl said.
“Goldilocks not get her porridge today? Need some beauty sleep?”
“Very funny. I just can't pick a bed.” I tried to maintain my composure, but felt myself whither inside. I should just call it a day and stick with Lumpy.
“How about this? I'll help you find your bed if you help me find a new comforter for my daughter. I'm drowning in purple and pink flowers, and I'm certain I'll pick something she'll hate.”
I slapped my hands on the bed. “Oh, fine. Whatever. And you're right about the porridge. I haven't eaten all day. Da Vinci joined a fraternity and didn't come home last night, and he complains I haven't let him sleep in my bed, and oh, my God, why am I telling you this?”
Cortland sat beside me on the bed, causing me to lean his way. “Because I'm your friend.”
“You're not my friend. You're my sister's boyfriend. Big difference.”
“Are you not Michael's friend?”
“That's different. We became friends after the divorce. We are united in our shared history with Rachel. It forms a special bond, believe me.”
“So maybe we'll form a special bond.”
I bounced off the bed. “Let's just find a bed, shall we? And your daughter is growing out of the cutesy phase, so let's go with something a little more grown up. Like leopard print.”
Cortland scrunched up his face. “Isn't that a bit ‘teen diva‘ for my little girl?”
“Right. Well, if you want her to hate what you get her, then you just stick with your flowers.”
“Fine. I'm gonna trust you on this.”
Carl excused himself to let us look and bicker in peace. Cortland pivoted on his heels, checking out the selection. “That one,” he said, pointing to a king-sized sleigh bed.