The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

day.And for another, I’d actually participated in a conversation with a man.And that conversation included interesting stuff – not once did we talk about needing more toilet paper and light bulbs.
    It was so peaceful, dark and quiet.A lovely evening in Florida.If only someone would turn off that damn cell phone . . .Damn.I forgot about the cell phone.
    “Laura?Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”It was him.What was it I was supposed to remember?Alan returned with the drinks.He grinned wickedly when he saw me on the phone.Right.That was it.We are villains.Cue the madman laugh track.
    “No problem, we had a great time today.”That was true.
    “Really?I’m glad to hear that.”Did he sound a little disappointed or was I just hoping he sounded that way? “So you’re back in the room, then?”
    “Actually, no.The kids are sleeping in a chaise lounge poolside.They both fell asleep on the bus and this was as far as I could carry them.”Not a lie!Actually happened!
    “Um…” Mike seemed uncomfortable with the visual image he had of this, “can you handle getting them back to the room?You could wake up Ben, he could walk…”
    “I’m here on my own, so I’ll find my own solution, thanks.”That felt good.
    “Well, okay,” he didn’t sound convinced.He was either feeling guilty or thinking I was an unfit mother, “Don’t be afraid to ask the staff for help.”
    “Mike, you’re cutting out – lousy reception here, so I’m gonna go.”Alan stifled a laugh.We were out in the middle of a wide, open space.How bad could the reception be? “I’ll call you tomorrow whenever I get a chance.Goodnight.”
    “I’m impressed.” Alan slid me a bottle of beer, “you made that look easy.”
    “I think I was channeling Cruella DeVil.”I really was.I took a swallow of beer before I started looking for Dalmatian puppies to make into a coat.“And it helps to have the right motivation.”
    Alan lifted his bottle and clinked it against mine, “to motivation . . . and revenge.”
    I laughed, “May it always be so sweet.”
    Once the laughter died down, I noticed that I was having a good time.It came as a shock, but that’s how I felt.
    “Why don’t you write poetry anymore?”Alan asked.
    “I don’t know.I wish I had kept it up.There were only a handful of pieces I felt were worthy of anything.”This was the truth.My poetry always made me feel very vulnerable.
    “That is tragic.”He drained the rest of the bottle and sat it down on the table with a loud thunk.
    “Really?Why do you think so?”Why did he think so?I couldn’t recall him ever giving me glowing praise when we were together.We both accepted the fact that he was the stronger writer by far.
    “I loved your poems.They were about us.About me.”
    “You think I wrote poems about you when we were together, you should have seen the stuff I wrote about you after we broke up!”Damn, I meant that as a joke. It didn’t come out right.Alan smiled and waved it off.It didn’t seem to bother him.
    “I mean it.Sometimes, I think I understood how you felt about me more through your poetry than through our conversations.”
    I was astonished, “You remember that?That was twenty years ago!”
    He looked a little hurt, “Yeah, but it was a very important part of my life.You were a very important part of my life.”He turned away, peeling the label off the bottle, “But maybe you didn’t see it that way.”
    Confessions of the heart do not come easily for me.But honesty was making this trip easier and beer was making the tongue looser, “I still have the ‘Alan box.’”
    It was Alan’s turn to look astonished, “You have what?”
    Danger! Danger! My turn to fiddle with the beer label, “The ‘Alan box,’ I still have it.”
    He waited for an explanation, but I was afraid I had said too much.Too late, I reminded myself.“I still have a box containing every note you ever wrote me, every photo of us, every token you gave me. It’s something I will