I enjoy his company. He’s witty and his smile lights my own. He’s brimming with energy and enthusiasm and ideas. Things seem possible around him.
And the sex? The best ever. We have explosive chemistry, which is what drew us in the first place. We can’t get enough of each other. Our bodies are attuned and in sync. It’s like we were made for each other. I’m astounded at how good it is. He tells me he’s never had sex this incredible. Points for me. For us. It’s all too good to be true.
I begin spending every Saturday night at Brad’s house in his comfortable king-sized bed. I’m wracked with guilt at leaving my kids for the entire night, but I can’t drag myself away from him, and my kids don’t seem to care. They’re always busy with their friends, anyway. I’m torn between my own needs and my kids’, but I choose to stay with Brad. He’s my lifeline. He’s the key to better days ahead for all of us. This is an investment in our future.
And I so need this. I need to have a break to look forward to at the end of the week where I don’t have to mediate my kids’ arguments or work long hours or worry how to pay my bills. Brad is my oasis in the turmoil of my life. He’s the center of calm.
His house is large with vaulted ceilings and spacious rooms. He remodeled it with French doors, skylights, a stone fireplace, and a curved patio in the backyard. This is the first house he acquired and remodeled, and he intends to sell it. He’s put so much money into it that he’s afraid he won’t recoup his investment. This is a lesson he’s learned. Never put in too much time or too much money. He won’t make the same mistake again, he says.
I implore him to keep it, but he says he can’t afford to. He borrowed money from his parents to help finance his burgeoning business and wants to repay them, even though they probably don’t expect it. He explains he had some money saved and cashed in stocks and bonds his grandparents had placed in a trust when he was born, but he still wouldn’t be able to do any of it without the financial assistance of his parents. They are his safety net as he is becoming mine.
I wonder how he can afford to spend money so freely and extravagantly when he takes me out. It occurs to me that he grew up with wealth and he takes success for granted. What else is there? You work hard and financial rewards follow. This is what he believes and he’ll succeed because he believes he will. I ponder this mindset. Is it foolish or profoundly wise?
I secretly hope no one will buy the house. I see my kids in the bedrooms, all of us eating in the dining room, watching TV in the family room. I see it so clearly that it seems inevitable.
He and his parents can invest in another house to fix up and sell. He’ll be thriftier with the remodel and make a bigger profit. He has to live somewhere. Why not just keep this beautiful house, which is in a good location and has wonderful schools? But Brad insists he must stick to his plan to sell it. He’ll find his own house later on.
I lie awake at night marveling at my great fortune in meeting Brad. I’d always been drawn to the exhilaration of the rebels, the boys who ignored the rules, the ones who left wakes of mayhem and broken hearts. At the same time, I’d craved stability and dependability and devotion. I know, quite a conundrum.
My ex-husband had been erratic. Sometimes loving and sweet, sometimes angry and resentful. I’d tried to ride the waves with him and navigate his moods, but it was impossible and our marriage grew untenable. He lashed out and blamed me for his unhappiness. He felt trapped and it was all my fault.
It was a relief when he drove off one day and never came back. I was alarmed at first. I couldn’t afford our apartment. I had no car. What was I going to do?
Marcy and Doug stepped in. We were able to live with them for almost a year. Doug found me a car and his father fixed it. We lived like a big family during that time. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. They are true friends and I’ll always be grateful.
And now here I am with Brad. He’s smart, ambitious, easy-going, generous, and polite. He’s even good looking and our chemistry sizzles. There’s exhilaration but no mayhem. And it’s good. Better than good.
What are his flaws? I don’t see any. I have a nagging feeling that they lie beneath the surface and one day they will float up into view. But I stifle these thoughts. That’s just pessimism. My streak of bad luck can’t go on forever.
Marcy thinks his biggest flaw is that he’s boring and predictable. But I find him far from boring. I welcome the steadiness of his moods, the assurance of our regular dates, the civility of our conversations, his aversion to rudeness and scenes. And underneath all the good behavior, our attraction pulls at us like two magnets. It’s the best of both worlds.
In the meantime, I delight in playing house with Brad as I picture us as a contented family. I sink comfortably into the luxury of domestic daydreams never for a moment envisioning the coming crash that will devastate me in less than a year.
Chapter 4
I remember the moment I truly fell in love with Brad. Up to that point, I was smitten and awestruck. Men like this exist, polite men who watch their language, who know how to treat a woman and speak to waiters, who are not intimidated by anyone and can easily handle any situation. At least that’s how I see him. He appears invincible. He’s good looking and smart and successful or on the way to being successful. He’s a born salesman. I would’ve bought anything from him, if I could afford it. His smile lights me up, and his touch makes me shiver with longing.
But the deal is really sealed for me the night we’re driving to a movie theater after a delicious dinner. This is what we usually do – dinner and a movie on Saturday night. I know. It’s so cliché, but I look forward to it all week. I drive to his house, hop in his car, and he takes care of everything. I leave the restaurant up to him, and he lets me choose the movie most of the time.
First, we have a leisurely dinner with wine. The liquid flows through me like a warm river that washes away my anxieties from the week. He wines and dines me I realize with satisfaction. Sometimes, we go to a movie first feasting on a large buttered popcorn, which I later bring home to my kids because we never finish it.
I’m in a tranquil state, lounging in the car thinking about the movie we’re on our way to see and wishing I could hold his hand. This is the only quirk in our evenings. I long to hold his hand in the car or the movies. I long for him to greet me with a kiss. I long to be able to touch him affectionately whenever I want, but he’s not that sentimental. I’ve learned that he’s not romantic or demonstrative. He’s pragmatic and logical and detached. Would it do any good to bring this up or would he deduce that I’m too needy and too demanding for him? Or would things improve between us? Would it open up a new level of bonding and communication? I’m debating whether I should divulge my concerns and risk this when he interrupts my thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“What?”
I hadn’t noticed anything in the fading light of dusk and had no idea what he’s observed. I scan the area trying to determine what’s caught his eye. All I see is a brightly lit grocery store with a vast parking lot scattered with parked cars. I glance at the time on the dashboard. There’s still plenty of time to make the movie. As it is, we’ll be early, which will allow for wait time if there’s a line. Sometimes that happens on a Saturday night, but I never mind standing next to Brad in the coolness of evening.