Affairytale : A Memoir Read online

  The wind blew through my winter jacket when I stepped out.

  “Okay, I’ll come in,” I heard him yell from behind me, “I have to use the bathroom anyway.”

  He turned off the car and followed me up the sidewalk to my front step then stood close behind huddling into his jacket as I fumbled with my keys in the lock

  “I hope a murderer never chases you into your locked house.”

  “What?” I wiggled the knob, my fingers stiff and clumsy.

  “You would’ve been dead minutes ago,” he teased.

  “I’m going to let Bodi bite you.” I said. “He won’t bite me.”

  “Yes, he will. Bodi doesn’t like men.”

  An image of Levi waiting for me on the other side of the door flashed in my mind and sent waves of fear through my blood. I paused with the door cracked an inch. The house was dark, Bodi was barking, I walked in and flipped on the foyer light. Grant squeezed in behind me, I was acutely aware of how close our bodies were.

  Bodi stood proud and stout at the top of the stairs. “Don’t talk to him or try to pet him. And don’t look him in the eye.” I said as I kicked off my boots and leapt two steps at a time up the stairs past my little brindle Shiba—who was so fixated on killing Grant he didn’t even notice me.

  “He’s little,” I yelled as I ran in to the bathroom, “so if he bites you it won’t hurt that bad. Just don’t try to touch him!”

  Bodi barked ferociously as I sat with my yoga pants around my ankles. “Just ignore him and walk past!” I hollered through the bathroom door. Then I heard a new rabid anger in my little Shiba’s growl.

  “What did you do to him?” I said as I walked out of the bathroom tugging and adjusting myself. Grant paused and eyed me with that aroused look only a guy could have from seeing a woman fiddling with her clothes.

  “I didn’t do anything. I just reached my hand out and he lunged at me.”

  “I told you not to look at him or touch him. Don’t you watch Cesar Millan—no talk, no touch no, eye contact? Bodi, come on boy—let’s go outside.” I patted my leg and walked him to the patio door.

  “Nice piano,” Grant said as he looked around my house.

  “Thanks, I just got it.”

  “You should play me a song.” He said excitedly.

  “I’m just starting to play again so I suck. Why don’t you play a song?” I leaned my elbows on the black granite island and stared at him in my home. I never imagined him in my home, in Levi’s home.

  “You’ve heard me many times,” He said, “Now it’s my turn to hear you.”

  “I’ve never heard you play piano though.” I said.

  “I’ll play, but you go first. I’ll listen from the bathroom,” he said as he walked away.

  I sat down in front of my new polished onyx piano and returned to music after a thirteen year anger induced hiatus. Deciding to play music again was part of reconstructing myself; abolishing residual bad feelings and learning to enjoy singing and playing on my own terms. For the first time in my life it didn’t feel forced and I was enjoying playing for myself. Until Grant, I hadn’t wanted to play for anyone but myself.

  The cushioned bench welcomed me; I pressed my foot onto the damper and began with the most recent song I’d been practicing. A dull ache spread in my chest as I realized why I was singing that song. Why I’d picked those particular words to reignite the musician in me. Why I’d been practicing it for weeks with tears in my eyes for no particular reason. Now I knew.

  I’d been longing for him like a lost soul longs to go home. He was my Home, my place of refuge that I always longed to go back to. No matter how many summer seasons had come and gone, no matter the distance between us or impossible circumstance, somehow we’d always found a way to each other again.

  When I reached the chorus, he approached me slowly, listening as if he’d never heard me sing before. “You sound so good,” He whispered in my ear, sat down on the piano bench beside me and stared at my lips.

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous, keep playing,” He laid his head on my shoulder, nestling into me. A soft murrr vibrated from his lips.

  My heart skipped into an irregular rhythm when he slid his hand onto the top of my thigh. It felt shocking but it felt right—like we’d been together for a lifetime and his hand should be on my thigh.

  I ached for red silk romance, and carry me away passion, and I ached for it with nobody else but him. He was a breed of charming I couldn’t resist.

  ***

  Hi, huny. :) I’m waiting

  patiently for u. Everything’s

  in order 4 tonight.:) Call

  when u get close, so I can

  get the garage door 4 u.

  Kisses!

  Chapter 19

  OVER THIRTY-FOUR MILLION USERS

  —AshleyMadison.com

  “I didn’t know you could play like that,” he said as I lifted my hands from the keys, “You’re amazing.”

  Then he went silent, his face wilted and his shoulders slumped. It was the expression your body makes when you’re too afraid to show who you really are, or have to live without saying what you need to say.

  I laid my head onto his shoulder and we melted into one another, unmoving and barely breathing. I wanted so badly to kiss him, or to have him kiss me. All I had to do was tilt my chin up and his lips would be right there. But I couldn’t, not in my house, not in Levi’s house. Cheating was inexcusable, but cheating in your husband’s home or bed seemed just plain evil.

  “C.J., play another song.”

  “What do you want to hear?” As if I could actually take requests.

  “I’m sure I’ll love anything you pick.”

  Grant was far more accomplished so playing for him was unnerving. But his encouragement awakened something within me, something that I used to love, and something that disappeared more than a decade ago that hadn’t surfaced since. My memory started to flood with lyrics and chords and inspiration and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wanted to play for someone, I wanted to play for him—and only him. It was as if I’d been practicing for this moment.

  His fingers splayed across my lower back and radiated warmth into my skin. “I’ve never done this one for an audience,” I said as my fingers searched the slippery keys for the unusual C flat diminished, “but I’ll try.”

  Somber tones of minors and flats oscillated through the air as I began to play. Small strokes of his thumb and fingers across my flank were a colossal distraction during an already difficult classical piece. Nervous and excited, I fumbled through the notes then stopped abruptly, “I’m the queen of half-songs. That’s all I know.”

  He applauded my mediocre talent, a generous compliment. I was a fair musician at best.

  “Your turn,” I stood up to switch spots. “How long have you been playing the piano? Can you read notes?” I asked, assuming that like me, all road musicians learned in their basement and played by ear without any formal education.

  He smiled like he was hiding a secret, “a few years,” he said modestly, “and yes, I can read notes.” He fiddled with the settings, stopped at the sound of orchestra strings, then after a few trial plunks he began to sing…

  “Never Tear Us Apart.”

  I almost leapt off the bench and whirled around, “I love this song, I can’t believe you know this one.” The expression on my face matched the expression I’d seen dozens of people make when they spent time with him. It was a shocked pause that clearly stated, is there anything he can’t do?

  Nope.

  The breadth and variety of his talent was immense, he never stopped surprising me. Not only could he play the piano, he was a pianist. He continued to sing, I was captivated by his serenade and couldn’t help but feel he was singing those words about us. Telling me a story about how he’d been waiting for me, that we’d be together for a thousand years, we’d drink wine, we’d fly, and nothing could ever tear us apart.
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  Over the next hour our impromptu karaoke date turned into an eighties hair band battle spectacular. We sang as many obscure, one-hit-wonders as we could think of. Songs from bands with names like, Flock of Seagulls and Bananarama. After half a dozen songs it was like we’d come to the end of a playlist. The music stopped. The room went silent. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears and the hum of the refrigerator. Our obnoxious impressions, belting vocals, and cough-inducing laughter hushed.

  I wanted to say something about that night. I felt like he wanted to say something too. Instead he blew a disconcerting draft of cold air into my face when he spoke.

  “We’d better get back. Dylan might wonder.”

  I plopped into the passenger seat and sulked over his lack of gumption.

  Just say something! Anything!

  I wanted to scream at him! I felt his attraction to me, tonight more than ever. An enormous swell of tension filled the air between us, and the car shrunk smaller and smaller as we got nearer and nearer to Dylan’s. I was drowning in anxiety over everything unspoken. I turned toward him, about to speak, then didn’t. He turned toward me, took a breath, and then sunk backward. I stared at him, my distraught expression begging him to tell me…but still nothing. Scooping out my heart with a rusty spoon would have been less brutal than enduring the empty silence between us.

  I went from vulnerable to angry, then angry to furious—yet another let down from his epic hot and cold head games. Grant lived in slow motion, every moment calculated and deliberate. He did things on purpose. So when the car slowed then came to a stop a mile before Dylan’s, I froze, I knew something was finally about to happen.

  He pulled over, clicked the gears slowly into park then turned off the headlights. Heat blasted through the vents sending billows of hot air up my legs. My senses became acute like a wild animal and time became viscid slow. The click of his seat-belt unfastening,. The rustle of his clothes. The sound of my shallow, rapid breath, everything was zoomed in and crystal clear as I waited for him to say something.

  His face was no longer able to hide the way he felt, “Since that night…” he said, gripping the steering wheel hard with both hands as I gripped my heart, ready to give it to him. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you. You’re always on my mind.”

  His words seared through my veins like a hit of heroin. Waves of heat and ecstasy pulsed through my body as I sat unmoving and unable to speak for what felt like an eternity.

  “C.J? Did you hear me?”

  He deserved that long silence while I absorbed what he’d said, for all the years I’d waited to hear him confess something real, I deserved a moment to let it soak in. When I finally spoke, I committed to not holding anything back. I would say everything I needed to say, I would be honest no matter what the consequences. Whatever this was between us, would be resolved tonight.

  “You mean…that night was real?” I said.

  “Yes, of course it was real.”

  “It’s just been so many years, I began to wonder if I’d imagined it.” I looked down and fidgeted, circling my thumbs. “That night meant something to me. It wasn’t a mistake.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake for me either. I knew what I was doing. I still know what I’m doing.” I could almost see his heart beating out of his chest like a pop-up valentine’s card. “After that night, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to see you, but what was I supposed to do?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe call me? Tell me how you felt.” He tipped his head as if to say…really?

  “I think about you all the time C.J, more than you’ll ever know.”

  I needed to know and I needed him to tell me. I was done with vagueness, I needed resolve. “I need you to tell me then, cause I don’t know.”

  He hung his head, “I want to tell you but…I’m not the kind of guy who takes another man’s wife.”

  “You didn’t take me.” I snapped, “I wanted to be with you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean. You didn’t steal another man’s wife. I wanted you, remember?”

  “It so feels good to hear you say that,” he said. “I didn’t want to cause problems for your marriage, I just couldn’t help myself, with you it’s just…” he hesitated, I feared he would retreat again.

  “It’s just what?”

  Grant looked at me with unassuming eyes, “It’s just always been you. I can’t resist you any longer, I’ve tried.”

  An enormous smile grew on my face, “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that. I don’t want you to resist me any longer.”

  He let out a breath, and with it any residual hesitation, allowing himself to feel for me in a way guilt hadn’t allowed him to feel before. His desire was unbound and his blue eyes seduced me when he said, “It’s been torture having you right there in front of me all these years.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?!”

  “I wanted to, I just couldn’t.”

  Time idled between us as I tried to absorb what he was saying. It was so surreal that if there was ever a time I wondered if I was living on the fringe of reality or fantasy, this was it.

  “Maybe we should kiss?” I suggested. “You know…just to see. I mean, we were both pretty intoxicated last time, so…I think we owe it to ourselves to see if there really is something there.” He invited me toward him with enticing eyes and a subtle, sinuous smile.

  “That, is a great idea.”

  The gap between us slowly narrowed, our lips seemed to pulse for one another and when they met, it was a perfect seal, muting the outside world, allowing us to savor and cherish our long awaited reunion. Sensual and soft at first, our kiss evolved into an intense rapture. He slid his fingers through my hair and pressed me harder against his full lips. The thrill of kissing him, the fear of getting caught, and the intoxication that came with him wanting me was euphoric. I needed him in my life like I needed air to breath.

  This time when our kiss ended his eyes weren’t vacant, he wasn’t kissing me goodbye, he was begging for more and I found myself crushed into him once again, engulfed in a wildfire that couldn’t be extinguished. I was love struck, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, the deep empty well that had become me didn’t feel so dry and deserted after all.

  I shifted back into my seat, tugging at my bottom lip with my fingers and smiling an uncontrollable smile. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” I blurted into the silence.

  We erupted into a tension breaking laughter.

  Then without warning, like he’d done so many times before, he switched, retreated, cowered back into the hole he’d come from.

  “I’d better get home,” he said. “Do you want me to give you a ride back to your house? Or take you to your car?”

  What!

  I went from euphoric to dejected in three seconds flat. I wasn’t done, my questions weren’t answered, this wasn’t resolved! I was desperate to know what was going to happen next.

  He shifted the car into gear and started driving. He was taking me home.

  How can we just leave each other like this—unfinished, unanswered?

  “I don’t want to go home. I want to be with you,” I said abruptly.

  “I want to be with you to, but…we can’t.” He let out a sigh of frustration.

  “What do you mean we can’t? We already have. I thought you said…I thought you wanted this? Don’t take me home, I’m not going there.”

  “Do you want me to take you to Dylan’s then?” His voice was gentle. He knew I was red-hot angry but he didn’t know that I’d never felt so unloved and abandoned by his on again off again bullshit.

  “No,” I said like a stubborn toddler and crossed my arms. “Take me to your place.” I cringed at hearing how desperate I sounded, but the freight train of abandonment had started rolling and I couldn’t stop it.

  He ignored my plea and kept dr
iving.

  “I don’t want to have sex if that’s what you’re thinking. I just want to be with you.” He didn’t respond, he just kept driving toward my house.

  How could he do this to me? How dare he tell me those things, kiss me like that, then take me home!

  I was furious as we approached my neighborhood, unable to stay composed or silent, I snapped.

  “I can’t fucking believe you are taking me home! You—you liar.”

  He looked confused. I was confused. He shrugged his shoulders, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take me home,” I insisted, “to your home.”

  He stared at the road, “I can’t.”

  I threw my hands up. “Why not?”

  “You know why,” he said politely, never riled by my rude behavior.

  “No, I don’t know why. Cause I’m married? That didn’t stop you before.” He gave me the only expression anyone could after that insult, but I didn’t care. “I won’t do this again, I can’t.” I said. “If you don’t take me with you tonight…I will never, ever, speak to you again. And I’m not kidding. I will move this time for real, I’ll erase you from my life and we will never be friends. You will never see me at the lake, I will be forever dead to you.” I waved my hands in the space between us and raised my voice even more, “I can’t take this anymore!” Then I laid my vulnerable heart out there for him to stomp on and discard. “I feel something between us, and that kiss…I know you felt it to. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not normal and it hasn’t gone away after all these years. If I’m wrong and you don’t feel the same way about me then tell me now and I’ll leave you alone forever. I just can’t keep doing this.”

  I waited for him to say something, anything. I waited for him to throw it in reverse, whip a U-turn and take me with him. Or at least step on the gas, push me into oncoming traffic and put me out of my misery. What he did, was so much worse.

  He did nothing.

  Nothing but stare into the blackness, detached and stoic. I was infuriated as he pulled into my driveway and put the car in park. I waited for him to speak, to at least say goodbye. Then after what seemed like an hour, I realized he was just waiting for me to get out.