Chapter 2

Despite the nagging irritant that had taken up residence at the back of my mind I slept well. The pent-up anxiety that had stolen my sleep since Danny had gone out west seemed to melt away with the two very intense orgasms. My body surrendered to a serene feeling that I had not had in months.

But the hot sun streaming through the bedroom window brought my dilemma rushing back. My brain was flooded with the memory of what I had done and what I had not done. I had let a young man seduce me in my kitchen and I let him crawl behind me to the bedroom where I gave him one of my husband's condoms and told him I wanted him to fuck me. What I had not done, what I had not had the courage to do was to tell my husband that I had been unfaithful to him, to our marriage.

I had no excuse; I was guilty on both counts. I had fucked another man and I had not told my husband what I had done.

My body felt used. I noticed tenderness in my breasts as I dressed and soreness in my thighs when I walked. My lips felt puffy from the mauling he had given them. Just thinking about what I had done gave me a moist feeling between my legs. I felt alive, exhilarated, and wonderful.

Mr. Tucker,

Please leave your invoice. I will come by your office after work tomorrow to pay you for the tree.

Thank you,

Sarah Hiller

Before leaving for the day I taped the note to the end of the water hose where it would be found. I didn't want to be there when Otis and Randy planted the tree. I didn't want them to see the agony, self doubt and shame that occupied my mind.

It was the following Saturday morning before I was able to really look at the tree. I had gone through the motions of turning the water on each morning and letting it run while I got dressed for work but this was the first time I had the inclination to give it more than a brief passing glance. I sat at the dining nook, imagining how the tree would look when in full bloom next spring. Danny's eyes would sparkle when he saw it for the first time.

Searching the bottom of my empty coffee mug for a sign, I wondered if we would still be living there in the spring, long enough to see the tree in bloom. How would Danny take it when I told him I had been unfaithful? The tree, I realized, was becoming a symbol of my infidelity. Would it become the wedge that would separate us? Would I ever see it bloom?

All week I had expected a letter to arrive from Danny. I had not heard anything from him since the telephone call a week before. Had something happened to him? Had he been able to get back to camp? Had I given him reason to suspect something was wrong?

It was the same at work. Doubts clouded my mind. Did my fellow workers harbor suspicions about me? How could they know? I told myself to square my shoulders and look them in the eye. Were bank customers avoiding coming to my window? The lines seemed shorter.

Nor had I seen Randy. His grandfather had come in one day to make the deposit. Did he know? What would he think of me? He lectured me on how much water to give the tree, a stern look in his eyes, making me certain that he knew that I had fucked his grandson.

Saturday evening, eating alone, I looked at the tree with scorn in my heart. How long would it last if I stopped watering? Would it be dead by the time Danny came home? I pictured the limbs drooping, bare. I hated it. I hated the way it was laughing at me. I would kill it with kindness, over water, over fertilize. I laughed back at the tree.

There had been no letter from Danny. I called my best friend. She was the one person who would hear the desperation in my voice. She agreed to come over after she put the children to bed. Good, I thought. It will be too dark to show her the tree. I won't say anything about it.

But I wanted to tell her everything. I would turn on the flood lights and show her the tree. I would tell her about Randy and what we had done. How would she take it? Would she want to know all of the details? Would she want me to show her the kitchen floor, the exact spot where I had opened my legs as far as possible, permitting him full access to lap my pussy like he owned it. She would be sympathetic and forgiving as only friends can be. She would tell me that she understood. I would tell her about Danny's phone call and how I planned to tell him but could not. She would help me rehearse my speech. Everything would be better.

The second Patty came through the back door I knew my plan to tell all was evaporating. I hardly recognized her.

"Why?" I asked and held my arms wide for her to come to me. The short bangs that had covered her forehead since the seventh grade were gone, replaced by an unbecoming comb-back that accented her high hairline. She was shorter than me with bigger breasts and a gap between her front teeth that I had found adorable from our childhood.

"It's a long story. Do you have something to drink?" Her embrace was brief. She plopped herself down on the sofa and looked up at me as if to say, "Well?"

I went to the kitchen and brought back wine coolers and glasses. Patty sat her glass aside and took a long swig directly from the bottle before I even sat down next to her. "Judy didn't want me to leave. She refused to go to sleep and Stewie, he mimics everything she does, he gave me a hard time about going to sleep too."

"What happened to your hair?" I tried to get her to focus on what I perceived to be her real problem.

She took another drink. I thought she was going to cry. "It was Peter's idea. He thinks I need to have breast reduction."

"What? Is that what he said?" How chauvinistic, I thought.

"Not in so many words but I know that's what he was thinking. We were fooling around one night and he kept lifting one of my boobs like he was estimating its weight, you know how they do? Lift it, look at it and then let it drop it to see how fast it falls." She stopped talking and looked at me. "No, you wouldn't know."

We both laughed and I saw the dimple in her left cheek that only appears when she thinks something is especially funny.

"He didn't actually say he thought your boobs were too heavy?" I wanted to get the conversation back on track.

"No, but that's what prompted me to get rid of the bangs. It seemed like a good tradeoff at the time."

"I hate it," I said without thinking. We had always been open and honest with each other.

"I do too," she confided, draining her bottle and reaching for mine.

We talked for three hours about her family, Judy was in kindergarten and Stewart was in pre-school. Peter had been promoted and they were looking for a larger house.

It was nearly midnight when she had to go. I thanked her for coming, actually relieved that we had not talked about my problems. I walked with her to her car, we hugged and I whispered in her ear, "Change back to the bangs. You don't need a boob job."

Alone in the house, I went to the back window and turned on the flood lights. "She has a family to care for and I have this fucking tree." The tree was laughing at me.

The telephone rang. It would be Danny. Quickly, I decided to confess, to tell him everything. It rang again. But what would I say? Don't cry, I told myself. Try to make him understand. The third ring. I must answer the phone or he'll think I'm not here. I've got to make him understand it meant nothing.

"Hello."

"Turn the lights off."

"Who is this?" I knew who it was. I recognized Randy's voice.

"Mrs. Hiller, turn off the lights so your neighbor won't see me. I'm coming to see you."

"NO! YOU'RE NOT!" I screamed into the phone.

"Turn the light off Mrs. Hiller. It's important that I speak to you."

I slammed the receiver down, enraged, frightened, and shaken. The tree was laughing at me. He can't see me dressed this way. I switched off the floodlights and went to my bedroom to change clothes. When I opened the door I was wearing a baggy pair of jeans that I used for painting and an oversized sweatshirt.

"Just hear me out and then I'll leave," he said as soon as he stepped inside the back door. It was dark in the kitchen. He was dressed in black, perfect for stalking, I thought. I stood well back and he did nothing to shorten the distance between us.

When I remained silent he lapsed into a prepared speech. "Mrs. Hiller, I came to apologize for the way I acted the other day. That's what I came to say. You're a married woman and I had no right to make you do something that you didn't want to do. I've been thinking about it a lot and know that it was wrong. I only hope that everything will be okay between you and Mr. Hiller. That's all I wanted to say."

He was opening the door as if to leave. "Wait, Randy," I exclaimed. He waited for me to speak, his hand on the doorknob.

"What happened was not your fault. It was mine. You gave me every opportunity to stop. I blame myself for what happened, not you."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervously, his hand still on the doorknob. "Did you tell your husband? I mean, do you have to tell him?"

"I haven't had the guts to tell him yet but I think that I must. It's eating at my insides."

"Who else knows? I won't tell anyone. Can't you pretend it didn't happen?"

"What do you take me for? Do you think I'm a slut with no scruples? I have to tell him."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hiller." He pulled the door open and was taking the first step to leave when I caught up with him. I placed my hand over his on the doorknob and pushed the door shut.

"Don't be sorry for me and please call me Sarah," I said, pushing my body against his and my arms around his neck to make him forget about leaving, if only for a few minutes.

"I really have to go," his breath warm on my neck, "Sarah," he finished the sentence. I could feel his hands on my shoulders, about to push me away.

At that moment I didn't want him to push me away. I didn't want him to leave, not until I had a chance to tell him what I was going through. He was the only one who would understand because he was the only one who knew what we had done. I pressed my face close to his ear and whispered, "Can't you stay? I have to talk to someone. Won't you stay for just a few minutes?"

"I have curfew Mrs... Sarah. I'll be kicked off the team if I'm out past 12:30 on Saturday night."

"Can't you stay for a few minutes Randy? I'll drive you home if you want." I was whispering softly into his ear. I felt his arms hold me close. I traced the rim of his outer ear with my tongue, and then took the earlobe between my lips.

His hands moved on my back, rubbing the fleece on the inside of my sweatshirt against my bare skin. I felt warm and secure in his arms. I alternated blowing softly into his ear, whispering, "Please," and sucking on his earlobe.

"I'll stay a few minutes. Maybe coach will just make me do laps."

"I don't want you to get into trouble."