"So what about you?" Mom asks, "You seeing anyone special?"
"Nope, absolutely not."
"And why not? Don't you think it's time for you to get married?"
"Mom, you're upset with Lincoln for getting married after he was in a committed relationship with the same girl for seven years and you want me to get married?"
"Well, you know, it's good for men to be married. Bachelors, I don't know. It's a little suspicious. Like, why haven't you been married before?"
"Things have changed, Mom. No one is married seven times now."
"Listen, you live long enough and things happen," she snaps.
She lifts her hand up in the air and points her finger at me, scolding me as if I were a little child while her bangles make a loud clinking sound.
"Besides, it was six times,” she corrects me. “One of the marriages was annulled if you remember."
"I don't, that was before my time."
"Honestly, you know nothing about your family's history," she says, shaking her head and bringing a martini to her lips.
She always has a cocktail at four in the afternoon.
Mom's life is built on routines and around six, she will go out to dinner with one or two of her friends and then maybe dancing in one of the last jazz clubs left in the area, catering just to the people of certain status on Cape Cod.
It's an invitation only kind of club. In fact, it's part of a country club, but you need a special invitation to be invited to this particular festivity.
"Well, I have another client to meet with," I lie, "so I'll be in touch in a few days."
"Okay, don't forget about your mother," she says, waving goodbye to me and puckering up her face in an exaggerated kiss.
"Bye.” I wave and hang up.
I feel myself drenched in sweat.
This wasn't even that long of a conversation, but my mom always makes me feel a little bit uncomfortable.
Not good enough, not smart enough, subpar in almost every way.
I know that somewhere deep down, she loves me, cares about me, but I wish that part of her would come to the surface a little bit more often.
Lincoln and I have talked about this numerous times and he feels almost the same way, probably a lot worse since he has Marguerite to deal with as well.
Unlike our mom, Marguerite offers him undivided attention and love with no strings attached.
And unfortunately, our mother was never like that with us.
You either had to do what she wanted to do, or you couldn't be part of her life and that was the rule ever since I was a little kid and that's why I’d spent seven years of my life in a boarding school in Maine instead of at home.
15
Dante
When I arrive at the club, the music is already pumping. The dance floor is filled with couples and singles living life to the fullest. At least that's what it felt like the first time I came here.
This organization offered me solace. It offered me a life without the entanglements of modern romantic life.
My brother, Lincoln, had been together with his girlfriend for years. He was always that kind of guy. In high school, he dated the same girl for three years, and anyone who's ever been to high school knows that's like a century at that age.
After she broke his heart, he met a fiery yet incredibly shy redhead with freckles over almost every inch of her body. She had always been like a little sister to me.
Friendly, cute, always hanging around, Marguerite was around when all we wanted to do was relax and play video games. The freckles are probably the main reason my mom doesn't like her.
Lincoln and I have never talked about it, but Mom looks down on red heads. The ones that go to the salon, not so much, but the ones with naturally red hair really irk her.
The irony of the situation, of course, is that her family hails from Scotland, where you can't throw a stone without hitting someone with bright auburn hair.
I have been to The Redemption Club in Seattle a number of times. I usually like to get a drink, nurse it slowly in the lounge area while picking out the girl that I'd like to spend my time with.
Single men aren't particularly welcome in this environment, but on occasion they make exceptions, especially if you fit a certain physique, you have a certain look, and you're willing to pay the astronomical initiation fee.
Two girls walk past me, and they giggle and take a seat across from me on the plush, rich velvet couch.
One of them is wearing a skirt that's so short I can practically see her underwear, and she complains about how itchy the seat is to her friend. Her friend eyes me, blinking her long false eyelashes in my direction.
I take the bait.
They're pretty, friendly, probably a few years older than I am, but then again, that's kind of sexy in its own way.
"Our husbands are right over there," they say, and I watch as they grind against two girls on the dance floor.
In any other club under any other circumstances, there would be rules about this. I'd feel a little nervous flirting, approaching them.
Maybe they shouldn't be here with their husbands, I think, but who am I to judge?
But at Redemption, nothing is off limits. They're here because they're in an open relationship and they like to have fun.
"So what do you two like to do?" I ask.
"I'm a flight attendant," one says.
"And I'm an actress." The blonde extends her hand, and instead of shaking it, I kiss the back.
She smiles and giggles again.
"How long have you been coming here with your husbands?" I ask.
"Long enough.” The flight attendant nods.
"Are they interested in joining us?" I ask.
The flight attendant shakes her head and the actress takes a sip of her martini.
“So, is that what you girls do? You come here, pick up a strange man, and take him to the back?"
"Yes, while our husbands do the same," they say, licking their lips.
I consider that for a moment. That wouldn’t exactly be my cup of tea if I were married, but I'm not the one who's married to them.
"Okay. Let's go," I say, narrowing my eyes.
They're pretty and fun and look like they could be a nice romp in the sack, which is kind of exactly what I'm looking for after a stressful workday.
I take one by the hand and place the other one's arm around my waist.
The three of us walk past the dance floor, and their husbands smile with approval in our direction while kissing on two voluptuous brunettes, who have their hands on their cocks.
When I get to the back room with the women, my hands immediately start to run up and down their curves, and they each kiss me on my neck.
I can tell that they're comfortable with one another.
I haven't been in this position in a while. As the lights dim and we make our way over to the bed, my thoughts return to Jacqueline.
She doesn't know that I have been following her.
She doesn't know that it wasn't an accident that we met at Redemption back in New York.
She can never know.
I thought that if we were together once, everything would be fine.
I'd get this out of my system and I could move on with my life, but in reality, it added fuel to the fire.