had trouble with this one (nearly forgetting the name of the state bird of Hawaii—“Nene”—a crossword puzzle staple), it seemed to turn off some awful buzzing in the back of her head. She took a half-dose of Ambien to help get her to the sleeping point.
When sleep came, not long after, she thought she heard the phone ring, but it seemed to be in the wonderful dream she was having, so she didn’t try to answer it.
4
A feeling of intense physical excitement overcame her body, and he touched her hand, lightly, and held her wrist as if to restrain her. Then, she felt a tender shiver go through her, a distinct sexual charge. Hut was there, rubbing her, licking her nipples, but she couldn’t move at all—somehow she was tied to the mattress. She felt wave after wave of delicious sensation and his hand moved down her stomach, and crept between her legs.
She gasped. Something about his face had changed. It seemed to fade in and out of focus.
5
She woke to sweat-soaked sheets, in the dark of her bedroom.
Livy had crawled into bed beside her, in the night. Julie felt embarrassed to have had such an erotic dream with her daughter sleeping beside her.
She watched Livy’s face, as she slept, and waited for the sun to come up.
6
The next morning, Julie checked the machine for messages, but there were none. Hut had not come home at all. She called his cell phone, but got the recording. She called the clinic; got his voice mail.
I hate you Hut Hutchinson. I hate you for doing this to me. For making me suspicious. For making me call hospitals in case you had accidents and then finding out you had just worked too late and hadn’t thought it important enough to call me. Or your kids. I hate you for being this cold to me.
Julie you are nuts. He loves you. He is working on important things. He loves the kids. He probably just pulled an all-nighter working on some emergency or other and is still asleep in that little cot in the filing cabinet room at the clinic.
7
Matt had been up by six. He had his Sony camcorder out and was making a movie of birds in the backyard at the birdfeeder. When he saw Julie at the kitchen window, he turned the camcorder on her and waved. She waved back, opening the window to tell him that she had some oatmeal and toast with raspberry jam for him for breakfast. He lowered the camcorder from his face, and scowled a bit. “Oatmeal? What about Pop Tarts?”
“I’ll pick some up tomorrow at Shop Rite,” she said. “In fact, if you want anything else special, let me know.”
“Maybe some Dr. Pepper?”
There was an everydayness about the two of them talking through the open window that made her smile and forget the bad day that Matt had, and nearly forget the little scratches and scars on his arms.
She had to rouse Livy from what must’ve been a fantastic dream, because even as she hustled her into the shower, Livy kept talking about the wondrous things she saw the previous night, including flying horses.
“And in my dream, Daddy kept asking me if I could get up, and I said, of course I can daddy, I just want to keep sleeping. But you know what? I did get up. I thought I heard him say something.”
“Daddy had to work all night,” Julie said, kissing her on the forehead, smelling Livy’s hair—the Johnson’s Baby Shampoo of it, the little tiny last bit of babyness in her six year old daughter.
“You never work all night,” Livy said. “Daddy works all the time, but you don’t.”
“I know. I have a perfect job.”
“Like on ER .”
“Just like that,” Julie grinned. “Plus, I get to be Mommy.”
“Poor Daddy,” Livy said. “He never gets to be Daddy anymore.”
“Poor Daddy is right,” Julie said, and tried not to think of the slip of paper with a phone number on it that smelled of perfume that she’d found in Hut’s overcoat, a number she had never called, a woman whose name she didn’t know, a woman who might not even exist except in a jealous,
When sleep came, not long after, she thought she heard the phone ring, but it seemed to be in the wonderful dream she was having, so she didn’t try to answer it.
4
A feeling of intense physical excitement overcame her body, and he touched her hand, lightly, and held her wrist as if to restrain her. Then, she felt a tender shiver go through her, a distinct sexual charge. Hut was there, rubbing her, licking her nipples, but she couldn’t move at all—somehow she was tied to the mattress. She felt wave after wave of delicious sensation and his hand moved down her stomach, and crept between her legs.
She gasped. Something about his face had changed. It seemed to fade in and out of focus.
5
She woke to sweat-soaked sheets, in the dark of her bedroom.
Livy had crawled into bed beside her, in the night. Julie felt embarrassed to have had such an erotic dream with her daughter sleeping beside her.
She watched Livy’s face, as she slept, and waited for the sun to come up.
6
The next morning, Julie checked the machine for messages, but there were none. Hut had not come home at all. She called his cell phone, but got the recording. She called the clinic; got his voice mail.
I hate you Hut Hutchinson. I hate you for doing this to me. For making me suspicious. For making me call hospitals in case you had accidents and then finding out you had just worked too late and hadn’t thought it important enough to call me. Or your kids. I hate you for being this cold to me.
Julie you are nuts. He loves you. He is working on important things. He loves the kids. He probably just pulled an all-nighter working on some emergency or other and is still asleep in that little cot in the filing cabinet room at the clinic.
7
Matt had been up by six. He had his Sony camcorder out and was making a movie of birds in the backyard at the birdfeeder. When he saw Julie at the kitchen window, he turned the camcorder on her and waved. She waved back, opening the window to tell him that she had some oatmeal and toast with raspberry jam for him for breakfast. He lowered the camcorder from his face, and scowled a bit. “Oatmeal? What about Pop Tarts?”
“I’ll pick some up tomorrow at Shop Rite,” she said. “In fact, if you want anything else special, let me know.”
“Maybe some Dr. Pepper?”
There was an everydayness about the two of them talking through the open window that made her smile and forget the bad day that Matt had, and nearly forget the little scratches and scars on his arms.
She had to rouse Livy from what must’ve been a fantastic dream, because even as she hustled her into the shower, Livy kept talking about the wondrous things she saw the previous night, including flying horses.
“And in my dream, Daddy kept asking me if I could get up, and I said, of course I can daddy, I just want to keep sleeping. But you know what? I did get up. I thought I heard him say something.”
“Daddy had to work all night,” Julie said, kissing her on the forehead, smelling Livy’s hair—the Johnson’s Baby Shampoo of it, the little tiny last bit of babyness in her six year old daughter.
“You never work all night,” Livy said. “Daddy works all the time, but you don’t.”
“I know. I have a perfect job.”
“Like on ER .”
“Just like that,” Julie grinned. “Plus, I get to be Mommy.”
“Poor Daddy,” Livy said. “He never gets to be Daddy anymore.”
“Poor Daddy is right,” Julie said, and tried not to think of the slip of paper with a phone number on it that smelled of perfume that she’d found in Hut’s overcoat, a number she had never called, a woman whose name she didn’t know, a woman who might not even exist except in a jealous,
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