What's Not Said Read online

  Cleaning Mike’s house took two or three hours longer than usual that day. It’s said the first time is always the best. Especially when it’s impromptu. Hot, fast, furious. Such was the case with Amelia and Mike. Clothes decorated his office. A bra on the closet doorknob, boxer shorts over a lampshade. Her black thong just missed Topher’s head as he escaped to another part of the house. Minimal foreplay occurred or was needed.

  The scene that day mimicked Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Before Amelia would clean a room, they’d test it out, give it a whirl. Then she’d clean it, giving them time to re-energize before advancing to christen the next room. Mike liked the game, especially because he was able to keep up with this alluring woman twenty-five years his junior.

  After their romp on the kitchen counter, the words birth control were spoken. Didn’t matter who uttered the words. Mike thought they’d said it simultaneously, just like their orgasms.

  “Not to worry, my dear. Vasectomy. Long time ago.”

  “Not to worry, my darling. Pills. Every day.”

  With that potential barrier out of the way, Amelia swiped a super-sized can of creamy Reddi-Wip from the refrigerator, took Mike’s hand, placed it on her breast, and led him to the last room yet to be cleaned. Kassie’s office.

  “No. Not here” Mike was a risk-taker, but no fool. Instead he took her to the family room. He opened a drawer in a side table and pulled out a video.

  “Now this is my favorite. You game?”

  Amelia giggled. “I love that one. Put it in. Get ready, Papa Mike, for the last ride of the day.”

  As the movie played in the background, Mike settled in his favorite chair, which he subsequently nicknamed the Pleasure Chair. She climbed aboard. A few hours ago, she’d smelled like lavender. Now she smelled like sex, as did he.

  She draped her silky, dark-brown hair over him.

  She wrapped her long and slender body with her never-ending legs around him.

  She offered him one breast and then the other.

  Her moans were so loud, she drowned out the porn stars. Mike thought he’d died and gone to heaven as she rode him like a bucking bronco until he exploded once again.

  As their blood pressure subsided, she smothered him with kisses. Forehead. Nose. Ears. Lips. Neck. Chest. Enough of that. Maybe this was her idea of cuddling. He had another.

  He lifted her, laid her gently on the plush gray carpet, and spread her legs. She raised his chin and was greeted by a whipped cream smiley face.

  Their affair had started with a bang, actually multiple bangs, that day and lasted on and off for about four years, coordinating their meet ups when Kassie traveled, which was easy to do. Neither Amelia nor Mike put any demands on the other. It was just sex, with enough caring thrown in over time to characterize some of their interactions as making love. It was so much fun while it lasted, and Amelia helped distract Mike from his kidney problems. Or maybe she kept him in denial. Whatever, it worked.

  When they’d met in Providence a year ago, Amelia told him she’d met a guy she’d like to get to know better. That meant she’d need to cool it with him, at least until she knew whether there was a future with the new guy. They made love for the last time that night. No porn or whipped cream in sight.

  Once in a while Mike would call her to see how things were going with her new beau, bemoaning how he was relegated to going solo in the Pleasure Chair. Amelia said her mother kept her apprised of the obvious rift between him and Kassie, and she was sorry about that. Not that they were keeping their options open to be with each other. Married to Kassie, Mike didn’t have any. He’d never leave her. He and Amelia had fulfilled a need in each other for a certain period of time. Mike accepted that Amelia had moved on. He wasn’t so sure he had.

  And now as Amelia walked toward Mike sitting in his hospital bed, she untied the red ribbon in her hair and kissed him deeply just as she had five years ago. Mike took her left hand, put it in his lap, and covered it with both of his hands.

  “Well, hello, Amelia. Teresa. How did you know I was here?” Mike’s face flushed and his eyes widened.

  “Miss Kassie told me yesterday. At the house. Lucky I arrived just as she was leaving with her suitcase. Otherwise maybe I wouldn’t know you was here. And Amelia wouldn’t know either.”

  “Her suitcase?”

  “Yes, Mr. Mike. I was so shocked to hear you was sick. I called Amelia right away.”

  Amelia nodded in agreement, keeping her hand in place, though her fingers fiddled.

  “Her suitcase. You sure? Oh, God,” Mike murmured, squeezing Amelia’s hand, and shifting his right leg under the covers.

  “Yes. She had two. One was yours, over there.” Teresa pointed to the duffel bag on the floor. “I’m sure the other one was hers. She said she was going to stay at a friend’s house over the weekend. I asked if she wanted me to take care of the kitty cat. But she said no, she already asked a neighbor to do that. Is that okay?”

  “Of course.” Mike wondered what neighbor. That would be a first.

  “Where was she going in such a hurry?” Amelia piped in.

  “When? Yesterday?” Mike asked.

  “Just now. We passed Kassie in the hallway. Almost bumped into her. But I don’t think she seen us,” Teresa said.

  “I know I took a chance coming here. But I’m sure she didn’t see us. She seemed to be talking to herself and rummaging through her purse. I wanted to see how you were. I gather you’re not as bad as I thought.” Amelia winked.

  Mike raised his eyebrows and looked at Teresa.

  “Would you mind?”

  Alone at last. Mike accurately predicted Amelia’s willingness to join him for a quick romp in the bathroom. Maybe she shared his fantasy because she wore a skirt which would make his getting in her pants easy peasy.

  Once Amelia made sure her mother was seated outside Mike’s room, she closed the door and met Mike in the bathroom. He was ready, and Amelia was rarin’ to go. It didn’t take long. It was like sausage, sweet and hot. And quiet. Mostly. Mike pinned Amelia against the stark white bathroom wall with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, stifling her moans.

  “I’ve missed you,” they said, fully synchronized.

  Amelia kissed Mike’s forehead. Nose. Ears. Lips. Neck. She kissed all of him. This time he didn’t stop her.

  Amelia left Mike’s room and returned with her mother, who’d guarded the door. It wasn’t the first time Teresa had covered for them.

  “Good job, Mama, thanks.”

  “Well, that was quick,” Teresa said. They shared a laugh.

  “Seriously, Mike, what’s going on with you?”

  “I’m just here for observation for a few days. I should go home Monday.”

  “Will you let me know what’s going on somehow?”

  “Sure, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t have my phone. Kassie just dropped it off, and it was dead. It’s over there charging. Would you hand it to me, please?”

  A pretty young nurse came in to check Mike’s vitals, breaking up the party. “Now, Mr. Ricci, I hope you’re resting and aren’t letting these ladies raise your blood pressure.”

  “We’d never do that.” Amelia winked and bit her lower lip. “Anyway, we’re outta here.” She rubbed Mike’s arm and shooed her mother out the door.

  Indeed, Mike’s blood pressure was up. How could it not be? In the space of two hours his wife told him she wanted a divorce, and he had sex in his hospital bathroom with an ex-lover.

  What a freakin’ afternoon. Mike decided it was time for him to gain some control of his life, such as it was, and as much as he could, sitting there limp and confused.

  He started by calling Bill. No answer. Of course not. A long holiday weekend. He’s off doing something fun, while I’m getting bed sores, and wasting away in pajamas and eating lime Jell-O.

  “Hey, Bill, Mike here. Surprise. Surprise. I’m at Boston Clinic for the weekend. No worries. Just observation. I’m here until Monday. So I nee
d you to help me out at the office. If you can, call me tomorrow.”

  He called Kassie. Voicemail. Waited five minutes. Voicemail. He slammed the phone face down on the bed and crossed his arms in a huff. Waited ten minutes. Voicemail.

  “Hi, this is Kassie O. I missed your call, but you know what to do. Talk later.”

  “Really, Kassie? I’m stuck in this hellhole, and you won’t answer my goddamn calls? The least you can do is put on your big-girl pants and let me explain. It’s time to get real.”

  20

  Escape Artist

  Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Once the secret knock of her sorority at Missouri, Kassie and Chris adopted it as theirs over the last five years. This time, no answer. Crap. She’d hoped Chris would be back at the hotel with food and drink. She lost her appetite on the ride from the hospital but craved a glass of wine to steady her nerves.

  As she fumbled to find the keycard, her bag took a header, spewing most of its contents onto the green and red striped carpet in the almost-always-dark hallway.

  “Fuck,” she said as a man and woman approached.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked as they passed. “Do you need help?”

  “No thanks. I got it. Sorry for the language.” She groped through the mess, not really sorry, and rescued the envelope, grateful the money hadn’t tumbled out.

  Never known for smooth entrances, Kassie stumbled into the room, kicking items from her bag she hadn’t shoved into it. She’d straighten it out later.

  Thank God, he didn’t see what a klutz I am.

  The suite welcomed her without judgment, without a sound, not even the annoying clunk of the air conditioner shutting on and off. No Chris asleep in bed. No meowing kitty cat. Good. This sanctuary would give her time to get her shit together and assess all that occurred that day before Chris returned. Classical guitar music would help. She powered up her iPad. Found Pandora, her lifesaver.

  Kassie stood at the large picture windows, taking deep cleansing breaths and stretching toward the ceiling. Boston’s distant towering buildings sparkled amber, a reflection of the sun setting to the west. Oh, how she loved the city. She couldn’t imagine ever moving away. After all, her family and career were there. Or had been there. Most of her relatives were gone, and once she divorced Mike, there wouldn’t be much family left. And her career? She could take that anywhere, right? Or maybe she’d do something else with her life. She’d been so focused on getting out of her marriage, Kassie had dedicated little quality time to figuring out the rest of her life. Not yet anyway. First things first.

  Divorce Mike. After years of practice, she’d finally said it to him. Not quite how, when, or even where she’d planned, but she’d done it. She’d left without giving him time to react. That wasn’t the plan either. Why did she run? Scared, coward, or just relieved to have uttered the words? Probably all the above.

  Kassie stepped out of the shower, wrapping the extra-large white towel around her. Despite the whirring of the fan, she could hear the TV and a “He’s out! You mother.” Baseball. Chris was back.

  “Caught ya naked!” He popped his head into the bathroom.

  “Save it for later, big guy. I need a drink.”

  “Now who’s the spoil sport?” He opened the door displaying himself in all his glory.

  Chris tripped over her clothes piled on the floor, falling into her arms. Her towel joined the pile. She could never say no to him for long.

  They spent the evening before Easter in their hotel suite recounting their day over one of Kassie’s favorite dinners—steak tips cooked medium rare, mashed potatoes, green beans and a simple garden salad. All of which Chris had arranged with the hotel staff. He confessed he’d originally ordered lobsters but changed the menu to accommodate her request for red wine.

  “So, how’s Mike?”

  “Mike who? Just kidding. I’ve got a lot to tell you, but you go first. How’d things go in Charlestown?” Kassie let Chris describe his day, giving her time to figure out how to tell her story with minimal theatrics.

  Over the first bottle of Chateau Ste. Michelle merlot, Chris described the apartment and the realtor who’d put a move on him.

  “If it weren’t for you, maybe I would’ve taken her up on it. She was hot. In fact, when she stepped out of her shoes, she reminded me of you,” he said with a wink.

  “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity,” she said with a little kick under the small stainless-steel room service cart.

  Chris told her about the joy and challenges of exploring Boston, the traffic, the rotaries, but especially the Fenway Park drive by.

  “Oh, and we’re all set with Topher. Do you think Mike will ever put two and two together?”

  “Who knows? I’m not sure I care if he does at this point.”

  “Why not?” He uncorked the second bottle of merlot and moved from the table to the couch.

  “Yes, get comfortable, my dear, I’m not sure where to begin.” She stood and tightened the belt around the plush hotel robe. Now was not seduction time.

  Still standing and pacing around the suite’s living room, Kassie started with the end.

  “Well, let’s see. I did it. I told him I wanted a divorce.”

  “You’re shittin’ me. How come you didn’t tell me right away? You told him while he’s in the hospital? A low blow, don’t you think? How’d he take it? What did he say?”

  “Not much. I didn’t give him time to react. I left.”

  “Did you tell him why? About me?”

  Kassie shot him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. She found her bag and handed the envelope to him.

  “Now you’re paying me to be with you?” He looked confused.

  “Don’t be silly. I found this money in a box in his bureau.” She explained how she came to find it. “I told him there were fifty-two hundred reasons I wanted a divorce.”

  “That’s how much is in here? Wow!”

  “I don’t think he heard me because of Elephant Butte.”

  “Elephant Butte. New Mexico?”

  “You know Elephant Butte?”

  “I’ve heard of it. I’m not sure why. A client or somebody was on Jeopardy from there. What about it?”

  Kassie told Chris how there were two keys, but only one box at home. She’d looked all over the house, the garage, and how she continued her search when she got to his office to pick up his files.

  “You wouldn’t believe his office. It’s nothing like I remember.”

  “How’s that?”

  She explained that since they’d met in Venice, she’d adopted a practice of what she called “Mike-avoidance.” Her goal was to stay away from him as much as possible, except at home where she had no choice. The less interaction the better.

  “Then why do you continue to sleep with him?”

  “The operative word is sleep. I’ve told you we haven’t had sex in years, many years.”

  “Don’t you think you were sending him mixed signals? From a man’s perspective, if you’re sleeping in the same bed with a woman, there’s always the expectation of getting laid.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to have disappointed him, and you, too. That was not my expectation. Would you be happier if I had been screwing both of you these past five years? Gross. The thought of it creeps me out.”

  “Me, too. Go on. Back to the part about his office.”

  Kassie described her visit to his office. The renovation stunned her. It didn’t reflect the Mike she once knew.

  “And you know what?” She joined him on the couch.

  “What?”

  “I was right. It was my mother’s doing.”

  “How? She’s dead.”

  “True. But she was quite alive five years ago. Mike told me all about it this afternoon. He waited until today! My mother redecorated his office while I was in Venice with you.”

  “He said that? He knew we were in Venice together?”

  “No, I mean, she redecorated at the t
ime we were in Venice.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” He kissed her neck as he swept away her hair. “Sounds like your mom was a nice lady. If I had an office, I’d be thrilled to have someone help me out. Especially with redecorating. Not my wheelhouse.”

  “I know your wheelhouse.” She snarled as she moved to the bedroom and gazed out the windows. She hadn’t expected Chris to push back. “Just whose side are you on?”

  Chris approached her, reaching around and unwrapping her. Kassie turned and brushed past him. She slung the robe on the bed and rummaged through her suitcase for clean clothes.

  “I’ve gotta get outta here. It smells like a fraternity. I’m going for a walk.”

  “What? I’ll come with you. Wait.”

  She didn’t.

  By the time the elevator doors opened to the lobby, Kassie had lost it. She couldn’t hide the tears even if she’d been wearing sunglasses. A boisterous wedding party swarmed the lobby. A throng of guys who looked like penguins and gals all dolled up in pink, lilac, and yellow gowns sucked the air out her space. Of course, Easter weekend. How frigging original, Bad Kassie thought as she pushed through the human Easter eggs and out the revolving door to the parking lot.

  Before stepping off the sidewalk, she looked both ways and scoped out the perimeter of the lot for the best path to walk laps. The long spring day had settled into a dark chilly night. She’d left the suite without her jacket, so she crossed her arms for warmth and walked with her head down, appearing as vulnerable as she felt.

  The last thirty-six hours had not gone at all the way she’d planned. She and Chris should’ve been celebrating and spending time at Target buying brooms, dishwasher pods, and paper towels. And at Stop & Shop filling their basket with bread, butter, milk, eggs, and yogurt. All the essentials.

  But that was not the case. Instead she had to defend herself to Chris of all people about whether she should have told Mike she wanted a divorce while he’s laid up in the hospital. And why was he defending her mother’s complicity with Mike? Long ago she’d resigned herself to the fact that she couldn’t rely on Mike for emotional support and from time to time even doubted her mother’s allegiance. Was Chris deserting her, too? She’d assumed he was a rock-solid fan.