Most Wanted

36

HER FIRST THOUGHT WAS, HAH! NOW YOU KNOW what it feels like! But she wasn’t vindictive enough to say that aloud. In Steve’s eyes she saw the same sick surprise she’d felt herself, in that awful moment when the bottom had dropped out. That moment when she caught him red-handed. Infidelity sucked, no matter which side you were on.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” she said. Part of her truly meant it, but another part of her was still in the car, tasting Dan O’Reilly’s kiss. And wanting more. Man, she was confused.

Without saying anything, Steve turned his back on her and marched into the lobby.

“Wait!” She rushed to catch up with him. He pretended not to see that she was coming, so she had to stick her hand in the elevator door to stop it from closing. Once they were alone in the elevator, he stared at her as if he barely recognized her. In spite of his anger, he looked amazing. Tall, lean, and tanned, wearing his suit with that careless grace that she loved. This guy could be a model, he showed off clothes so well. Sometimes she thought her whole relationship with her husband was based more on physical attraction than substance. No wonder it wasn’t holding up so well under pressure. Hmm, maybe she should marry Dan and have an affair with Steve?

Steve opened his mouth several times but couldn’t seem to bring himself to speak.

“I know how that must’ve looked,” she said. But then she stopped, at a loss for what to say next. Because it was what it looked like.

They stepped off the elevator into a long hallway wallpapered a dingy beige. The therapist’s apartment was directly across from the elevator. Steve pressed the buzzer.

He turned to her as they waited, still looking stunned. “I guess you’re trying to get back at me? That’s what I just saw, right? Melanie’s revenge?”

The door swung inward onto a narrow foyer warmed by a deep red Oriental rug and smelling of potpourri and scented candles. A petite woman with frizzy red hair and fashionably small eyeglasses greeted them. She was about their age.

“Hello, I’m Deborah Mintz. You must be Steve and Melanie.” Neither of them responded. She looked at them and smiled quizzically. “Why don’t you come in?” she said. She had a mellifluous voice, unusually deep for such a small woman. To her surprise, Melanie immediately liked her.

She showed them into an office off the foyer, furnished with a brown corduroy sofa and two beige leather chairs. Against the far wall stood a desk piled high with books and papers. Deborah shut the door firmly and went to sit in one of the chairs.

“Please, sit down,” she said.

Melanie sat on the sofa. Steve chose the empty leather chair, dropping his head into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red and teary. If Melanie had ever thought revenge would be sweet, she was sadly mistaken. Hurting him felt much worse than getting hurt herself.

“It was lucky you called when you did, Steve,” Deborah said. “I only have evening office hours once a week, and I just happened to have a cancellation. Now, would one of you like to begin and share with me what brings you here?”

“I cheated on Melanie, and I’m here to take responsibility for that,” Steve said firmly, looking at Melanie as he spoke. “Melanie’s been acting out, trying to show me how upset she is, and I want her to know that I hear her and that I’m going to do better. For us and for our daughter.”

“Okay, well, that sounds like a good place to start. Melanie, would you like to respond?” Deborah asked.

Now they were both looking at her. Steve’s words were what she’d been waiting to hear all along, right? So why didn’t she feel overjoyed and relieved, like she’d expected to? Why didn’t she jump up and throw her arms around him? Could it be that, in her heart, she was already out of this marriage?

“It’s not that simple,” was what popped out of her mouth.

“Why not? What do you mean?” Steve asked. He looked at Deborah for an explanation, but she just gestured for Melanie to continue.

“When Steve says I’ve been acting out, I get the feeling he thinks I didn’t mean any of it. That I just want attention or to get back at him.”

“You did mean it?” he asked, shocked.

“Mean what? Fill me in here,” said Deborah.

“She was downstairs kissing some other guy, for starters,” Steve said. “Did you mean that?”

“Just now?” Deborah asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I think I did mean it.” Melanie felt short of breath. Her heart was beating erratically. She’d never had this experience before, of being the one in the wrong. She didn’t like it. But she needed to get the truth out on the table here, and the truth was, she felt something for Dan, and she was no longer certain what she felt for Steve.

“Who is he?” Steve demanded.

“An FBI agent I work with. We’re doing a case together. We only just met a couple of days ago.”

“And you’re already kissing him? Fast work, Melanie! Are you fucking him, too?”

“No! Don’t use that word. You must be confusing me with that puta Samantha.”

“Whoa, time out,” Deborah said, making a T with her hands. “Let’s try to stay civil and productive. Melanie, please continue. I think Steve needs to hear what you have to say.”

“If Steve is serious about wanting to work things out, I guess I’m still willing to try. But we can’t sweep our problems under the rug. I want him to know that nothing I’ve done was for show. Not asking him to move out, not taking off my wedding ring or kissing somebody else. I did all those things because I’m not sure whether I want to continue with our marriage.”

There, she’d said it. All of it.

Dead silence.

“Which doesn’t mean I’m convinced our marriage is over,” she continued, her voice ringing out, loud and urgent, in the quiet room. “Maybe there’s-”

Steve stood up. “I need out.”

“What? Out of where?” asked Melanie, heart in her throat. Whatever she thought she was up to here, she never intended to end things this minute. She needed more time to decide.

“I can’t hash this out in front of a stranger right now. I’m too confused. I’m sorry, Deborah, I know this was my idea. It just-I’m not ready. I need some air.” He began to move toward the door.

“Wait!” Melanie said. “Maybe she can help us. We should give it a chance. We should-”

“I can’t right now, okay? You really took me by surprise, with this other guy. I need some time to think.” He strode out of the room.

“I have to go after him,” Melanie said to Deborah, leaping to her feet. “Can you mail us the bill?”

“Of course. And, Melanie, I’m here if you want to come back, either together or alone. Okay?”

“Thank you.”

She ran after Steve, catching up with him as he waited for the elevator, leaning against the wall with his face buried in his arms. She placed her hand lightly on his back, making contact for an instant with the well-defined muscles under his suit. The touch reminded her of that morning, doing it standing up in the hallway. What was wrong with her, thinking about that at a moment like this? There was more to marriage than just sex.

Steve angrily shrugged off her touch and barreled into the elevator when it arrived. She followed him. On the street he hailed a cab.

“Is it okay if I come with you?” she asked in a small voice. She hated this. It was actually much better to be the wronged party, the victim. Being the offender felt too terrible.

He opened his mouth to reply but merely clenched his teeth, whistling with a mixture of defeat and scorn, holding the taxi door open for her.

ELSIE OPENED THE DOOR FOR THEM, DISPLEASURE written all over her face.

“You people realize what time it is?” she said.

Steve took money from his wallet. “Thanks for staying, Elsie. We really appreciate it. Here’s your overtime and cab fare.”

“That don’t make it okay. Night after night being asked to stay late. You-all must think I have no home life.”

Steve patted her arm. “We’re sorry, really, we apologize. Listen, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. If you wouldn’t mind, can we talk about this in the morning?” He shepherded her to the door and gently guided her through it. “Thanks again, Elsie. Have a good night.”

He closed the door behind her and walked into the living room, sinking down heavily onto the sofa. Melanie came and sat at the opposite end, leaving several feet of space between them. They hadn’t spoken the entire way home in the taxi. She looked down at the sofa’s once pristine taupe chenille surface, now marred with spit-up stains. She thought of when it was new, of their happy ignorance as they settled into their marital apartment. They’d been so confident of a smooth future, so blind to what could go wrong. Down the hall, as if on cue, Maya started to cry.

“Do you want to check on her, or should I?” Steve asked, sounding tired. He didn’t move.

Melanie stood up, but then the crying stopped.

“Stay here. She stopped,” Steve said, but Melanie continued heading for Maya’s room. She always checked on the baby when she came home. Besides, she’d feel better and think more clearly if she saw her daughter’s face.

The nursery glowed with golden light from the night-light. Melanie approached the crib reverently, holding her breath so she wouldn’t make a sound. Maya lay on her back, lost in the wild abandon of infant sleep, her arms thrown back over her head and her eyelids fluttering. Looking at her baby daughter, Melanie flashed back to how she felt at her high-school graduation when her father didn’t show up, seeing all those other big, happy families. By then it was official that he was never coming home. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health, but every time a date was set for him to fly back to New York, he made some new excuse to delay. Finally she demanded an explanation from her mother. “Your father wants to stay in San Juan,” her mother had said wearily. “But he’s better! He can come home now! The doctors said so,” Melanie had protested. “You wanted to know, so listen to what I’m telling you. He’s not coming back here. We’re getting a divorce.”

“What’s gonna happen to you, nena, if I don’t fix this?” Melanie whispered now.

She heard a noise behind her and turned. Steve stood in the doorway, the light from the hall picking up the gold in his hair. He was so gorgeous, she thought, he made great money, and he loved his daughter like only her own father could. What if Melanie’s mother was right? Plenty of other women in her shoes would patch things up and consider themselves fortunate. What was her problem? Maybe she should try harder to work things out. If there was one vow she’d ever made, it was that Maya’s childhood would be better than her own.

Steve walked over and stood beside her. “She’s so beautiful,” he said, looking down into the crib. “Like you.”

He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

“Steve-”

“Shhh!” He put his finger to her lips until they were in the hallway, then led her into their bedroom, where he turned her to face him. He kissed her lightly on the lips and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“I thought about it on the way home, Melanie, and I’m willing to forget about this incident with the FBI guy. I get the point. You wanted me to see that other men find you attractive. You think I don’t know that, baby? You’re so damn hot,” he said, nuzzling her ear.

“You’re crazy. We need to talk, not have sex.”

She frowned, but she didn’t stop him. This was how he always dealt with their problems, and it wasn’t working anymore. Or was it? His touch still made her knees go weak. She wanted to protest, to tell him that Dan was more to her than a point she was trying to make. But Steve was distracting her, sliding her blouse off her shoulders and kissing her neck, then her mouth. She started kissing back. She couldn’t help it-he was a great kisser. She’d say that much for him. The way he used his tongue to part her lips, ay, mami, so good! And he picked exactly the right moment to slide his hands slowly around her behind and pull her tight against him. She could feel her insides melting.

“Yeah, you have a little wild streak, don’t you?” he whispered in her ear.

“You’re the wild one, not me,” she said, between wet kisses and heavy breathing. “Remember when we first met, at that ski share? You couldn’t decide who you were gonna bed first, me or that bitch Kelly what’s-her-name. I knew from the start you were a playboy, but you were so handsome I didn’t listen to myself.”

He pulled back and looked at her, his hazel eyes sleepy with lust. “Kelly? No way. She was boring and uptight. You were always the one I wanted. Like I said, the hottest thing on the planet. Why do you think I married you?”

“Steve, there’s more to marriage than just sex.”

“Yeah? Who says?” He pushed her down onto the bed and climbed on top of her, nudging her legs apart with his knee. “When the sex is this good, who needs anything else? Not me.”

Well, I do, she thought, but she couldn’t speak with his tongue in her mouth. Okay, so maybe she’d wait and tell him that afterwards.

“Oh!” she moaned.

“See, baby? Told ya.”

SHE HAD TO STOP HAVING SEX WITH HER HUSBAND. Not only was it confusing but it made her feel cheap. Though how could that be? she asked herself, looking at Steve after he rolled off her. This was the man she’d married, in the eyes of God and the law. The father of her child. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to do, trying to work things out with him, wasn’t she?

Steve started to snore.

“Hey!” She poked him. “Wake up!”

“Wha’?”

“Wake up. We need to talk. Then you need to go. GO, go.”

“No way. I’m too tired. You wore me out, Mel.”

“I’m not kidding about the separation, Steve.”

He sat up and looked at her.

“Why? Because of that musclehead creep in the trashy car? I got a look at him. He has ‘fling’ written all over him, Mel. You’re rebounding. I understand, and I’m prepared to forgive. Provided you never see him again, of course.”

“You’re assuming all I’m after is sex because that’s all you’re after. Dan happens to be a very substantive human being. He’s caring and a great listener-”

“Oh, and since when does shit like that even matter to you?” he asked angrily.

“What?”

“Look, I’m not criticizing you or anything. But intimacy is not your strong suit. After the childhood you had, who can blame you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you don’t get it, you ought to take a long, hard look in the mirror, Mel. Think about it. You work all the time. You have no close friends. And you and me-we have fun, and we’re really compatible. But this isn’t one of those relationships where we sit around blabbing about our innermost feelings. Like you’d ever get that from Mr. Musclehead anyway. Gimme a break!”

She got up and pulled on a bathrobe, then walked over to the window, not speaking, more troubled than she cared to admit by what he’d said.

“You know they never caught the man who shot my father,” she began tentatively. “Sixteen years ago, and he’s still out there somewhere. That’s why I work so hard. To stop other people from suffering what I suffered.”

“Hey, like I said, you have your reasons. I’m not blaming you, and I’m not complaining. I’m crazy about you, just the way you are. You’re gorgeous and smart and fun in bed. You’re an amazing mother. But it doesn’t ring true for you to go all psychobabble on me, Mel.”

“If it’s really like you say, doesn’t that mean we need to work on our relationship? And work on ourselves?” she asked, turning away from the window and looking at him.

“No! We’ve got a good thing going here, baby. Let’s not overthink it, okay? The best solution is just to forget this ever happened. I cheated with Samantha, then you fooled around with Mr. Universe. Fair’s fair. Let’s just call it even and put it behind us. I mean, what more do you want?”

More than that, she thought. I want more than that.

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. His stomach rumbled. “I never had dinner tonight,” he said. “Want to order some Chinese?”

She walked over and picked up his pants from where they lay on the floor, handing them to him. “The diner on Madison is open until eleven. You can still get something if you hurry.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Steve, you may be content to live your life in the kind of relationship you just described, with the kind of partner you seem to think I am. I’m not willing to settle for that.”

He sighed, looking down at the pants in his hand. “Fine, if you insist, we’ll go back to that marriage counselor. If that’s what you need to feel better.”

“Don’t say that just because you want to sleep over tonight. You need to be sincere. Look, I really think we need some time apart, to figure out how serious we are about fixing this marriage.”

He studied her for a moment, then stood up and pulled on his pants.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll indulge you for a little while longer, Mel. I guess you’re more upset about Samantha than I realized. But I’m warning you, there’s a limit. I’m getting tired of sleeping at my parents’. And if you see that guy again, I am not going to be happy.”

She followed him to the foyer to lock up behind him. As he left, she automatically kissed him good night. The kiss made her sad, but it wouldn’t have felt right to let him leave without one either. Old habits die hard.

AFTER STEVE LEFT, SHE GOT THE MUNCHIES something awful. It must be stress. Or all the sex. Lucky Steve was gone, because if he were still here, they’d probably wind up doing it again. Food was a safer option. She’d rather have her stomach full and her mind clear of her husband, so she could think.

She went hunting through the cabinets to find it. The small, square box with the blue-and-gold label that hadn’t changed since her childhood. Flan from a mix, her favorite dessert as a kid. And yes, she was an assimilated, mainland Puerto Rican whose mami didn’t know how to make the real thing from scratch. So what? That’s who she was, and she should stop being so down on herself.

That was what she ultimately decided, as she stirred the creamy yellow mixture, savoring the delicious caramel scent that rose from the pot. She needed to think better of herself. In her heart she’d never made it out of Bushwick. She was still the girl from the block, child of violence and divorce, whose father never came back home after that one awful night. Up until now she was grateful to take what Steve offered and not ask anything more.

She poured the sweet molten liquid out into small bowls and stuck them in the freezer to speed the cooling process. She ate two and a half of the bowls before she felt sick to her stomach and dumped the rest in the trash. ¡Qué estúpido! What was she thinking? She could feel those calories going straight to her hips. Now she’d have to fast tomorrow to make up for it.

She went to her bedroom and turned off the lights, lying on top of the covers and watching the blue shadows move across the room, thinking about what Steve had said. She didn’t want to be the person he described. She wanted to jettison all that old baggage from her childhood, so she could be better and braver and take her rightful place in the world.

Now all she had to do was figure out how.