It had become dark outside, and Lee and I were dressed now. She was on the couch and I was making us martinis in the kitchen. Neither of us was hungry.
I brought her drink over and lifted my glass to hers. We didn't have anything to celebrate; I was feeling devastated, and Lee seemed shell-shocked. But still, in the feeble smile she gave me as we clinked our glasses, that inextinguishable fire burned in her blue eyes. That fire, even more than her impossibly gorgeous body or her irresistibly seductive antics, was what had drawn me to her and into the purgatory we now found ourselves in.
She bent her head to take a sip and then looked up at me.
"Dan," she began.
"Don't."
"But..."
"Just wait, OK?" I tried to pull all my thoughts together. What could I say that would in any way make this better? I could tell her it was all my fault, but we'd both been more than willing conspirators. I could tell her everything was going to be all right, but I didn't believe that myself. The more I thought, the clearer it became to me that I didn't have any solutions. But I had to say something.
"Listen." Lee looked at me expectantly.
"Sandy just ran out of here, right?" Lee nodded. "OK," I continued. "So she doesn't have any of her stuff with her, and no place to go, really. That means she's got to come home. And when she does, we can all sit down and try to talk this whole mess out."
Jesus. Was that the best I could come up with? Lee's eyes narrowed, and I could see she thought this was as lame as I did, but I went on. "I don't see what else we can do. I mean, she's my, what, my lover, and your best friend..."
"Oh, god," Lee moaned. "That's exactly why I can't face her. Really, Dan. I can't."
I went over and knelt on the floor in front of her, willing her to look at me. "However this turns out, you've got to know one thing. I don't regret a second of what we did."
Lee was shaking her head, and I laid my hands alongside her neck, my thumbs caressing her damp cheeks and my fingers tangling in her hair. "Yeah. OK," she said. "I know. Me, too. But you know what I mean. It's like you plugged me into some electric current that I didn't even know existed. That's nothing I could ever talk to Sandy about."
I heard her say that and knew there was no better way to describe what had happened between us. Then, oh jesus, her soft arms were resting on my shoulders and her fingers were playing between my shoulder blades, and her eyes came up to mine and glowed bright blue. I pulled her closer, and the phone rang.
We leapt apart. Lee looked over at the kitchen counter and then back at me. The phone jangled again.
"Go on. Answer it. You know it's her."
My legs shook as I got up and stumbled to the counter. I looked back at Lee, and she had her head buried in her hands. I took a deep breath and picked up the receiver.
A blast of music hit my ear, and I said, "Hello."
"Is that you, you bastard?" She slurred the s in bastard, and I knew she'd been drinking.
"Sandy, where are you?"
"Like you care, you fucker."
"Come on. Tell me where you are and I'll come get you." Then it occurred to me that she had the car. "No. Take a taxi. Just come home."
"Oh, sure. That'd be wonderful. The three of us. You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Her voice rose to a scream. "Where is she, damn it? You're fucking her right now, aren't you? You're fucking her and you're both laughing at me."
"Come on, Sandy. Take it easy. Lee's upstairs," I lied.
"Take it easy? Take it easy?" She was wailing now. "You'd know all about that. You take it any way you can get it, goddamn you! You take it on the god damn stairs. With my best friend. Tell me, Dan. Where else did you do it?" The wails turned to sobs. "Oh, god, please don't tell me you fucked her in our bed."
I hadn't, but I wasn't going to get into that. "Sandy. Please come home."
The music stopped and there was a moment of silence on the phone. Then Sandy's voice came back. No sobs. No recriminations. Crystal clear and suddenly sober.
"Yeah. OK. I'll come home. But I don't want to see that bitch, and I don't want you in my bed. I'll call a cab. It'll probably be a half hour before it gets here, and then another twenty minutes before I'm home. That gives you two fifty minutes to figure out how you're going to explain yourselves to me in the morning. The clock's ticking, Dan."
"Sandy. Wait," I said, but the line was dead.
I hung up and turned to Lee. "Well, that went about as well as could be expected."
"I don't think I want to hear about it. I'm going to bed."
I nodded and watched her climb the stairs, then turned out the lights and lay on my back on the couch. I crossed my hands behind my head and wondered how I'd ever gotten into this situation. I pictured Sandy, her dark, slim beauty. I remembered the good times we'd had together, and her smile and the way she looked at me. I shook my head, unable to fathom how I'd let that get away from me, and latched onto a thin hope that I could get it back.
Then, unbidden, pictures of Lee started to flood my brain. Her body in a bathing suit. Out of a bathing suit. The challenge in her eyes. Her blue eyes. And I knew that as much as I wanted Sandy back, I was powerless to resist Lee. I knew what I'd told her before was true. I didn't regret anything. I'd do it again in a heart-beat.
Contemplating your weakness is never comfortable, but that's all I had. I'd taken the love of an ideal woman, and a perfect relationship, and I'd trashed them. I'd been on the road to heaven with Sandy; I really believed that. What we had together had been as perfect as i could imagine two people having. I clenched my hands at my forehead, willing myself to make something of this situation, to come to grips with what had happened and sort out what to do next. I couldn't. I sank into a funk, stuck with all my short-comings. And I knew I'd never be able to get myself out of this.
Lights flickered through the windows and I heard the taxi pull up outside. The car door slammed and the cab drove away. I realized I was holding my breath, waiting to hear Sandy's footsteps. All I heard was the swish of the front door opening, and then the click of the latch as it shut. I knew then that she was barefoot and trying to make as little noise as possible. I felt the air move as she came into the living-room, and I closed my eyes.
Was I hoping she'd stop and touch me, acknowledge me in any way? Of course I was. My muscles were as tight as a drum-head. Then the loose board on the fifth stair creaked, and I knew I was alone. My body uncoiled and sleep came over me.
The sun shining through the window and the smell of coffee made it seem like any other day on the Vineyard when I woke up. Then I realized I was on the couch and I remembered why. I was in deep shit. I wanted to go back to sleep, to forget it all and maybe wake up someplace else, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. So I got up to face the music.
Walking to the kitchen was like walking into last week. Sandy was at the table in her short white robe, sipping her coffee. She looked delectably rumpled, as sweet and tan and beautiful and sexy as I'd ever seen her. She seemed unaware of my presence, and as I watched her, I wanted more than anything to step into a time-machine and undo everything.
Then her dark eyes flicked up and caught mine. I thought I'd seen everything in them before: love, laughter, pleasure, passion, sheer joy; but her look of cool appraisal was new to me. I was suddenly intensely aware that I was unshaved and hadn't showered, and as often as Sandy had seen me like this before, my discomfort increased.
I wanted to pretend I hadn't seen her, to slip upstairs and do something, anything, to prepare myself for what was coming, but she lowered her cup to the table and said, "Come sit down, Dan."
The last few steps to the kitchen table were an endless death-march. I got through it somehow and pulled out the chair opposite her and sank into it. I waited for the onslaught, and when Sandy stood up, my shoulders hunched.
"Coffee?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I raised my eyes and saw Sandy walk to the counter to re-fill her mug and pour one for me. She came back, set my coffee in front of me, and took her place at the table.
"So. Not exactly what we envisioned for our vacation," she said in a conversational tone.
My brain was in over-drive, trying to get a handle on her mood. Last night on the phone she'd been furious, then hysterical, and finally icily angry. Though I'd done my best not to think about this morning, I'd expected some serious fireworks. Now the last thirty seconds had given me a glimmer of hope that I might get out of this with my manhood and our relationship intact. I knew I had to let her take the lead.
"No. Not exactly." I studied my coffee cup.
"Dan. Look at me." I knew I had too. "Our first week here was perfect. This house, this island. The sun. The beaches. It was idyllic. And then with Lee, too. I've never felt so relaxed as the evenings we spent together. Remember?"
I did. The feelings, not just the sexual tension, but the camaraderie, the loose, easy sense of togetherness, washed over me. That Sandy could bring this all up now, after what had happened, gave me new hope. I put my hand out across the table and covered hers. She smiled at me.
"Why don't you go get Lee up. We'll need to talk."
I pulled her hand to me and kissed her fingers. She didn't back away. I looked at her, trying again to fathom her mood. There was nothing there I could get hold of. I got up and went up the stairs.
Lee was curled into the fetal position on her bed. Her blonde hair spread across the pillow behind her head, and the sheet was down around her hips. I'd never seen her asleep, and in the morning sunlight she looked absolutely innocent. I sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her shoulders until she began to move. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles like a baby and turned onto her back.
"Dan?"
"Yeah, it's me. Good morning."
She went from sleep to panic in seconds. "Sandy didn't come back?"
"Shh. Relax. She's here."
Her eyes widened as her alarm heightened. "What are you doing? You've got to get out of here," she whispered. She pushed at me with her hands. I grabbed them and pressed them back gently until they were beside her head on the pillow. I kissed her on her forehead.
"It's OK," I told her, sitting back up.
Her face was all confusion, unsure of what she was hearing. Holding her wrists, I bent forward and kissed the corner of her right eye. "It's..." I kissed the corner of her left eye. "...I think, somehow..." I kissed the corner of her right eye again..."I think it's going to be OK,"
