Chapter 17

Maggie was woozy. Maggie was wobbly. Let's face it, Maggie was drunk, leaning heavily on Mike Swanson's arm, as he led her to her hotel room door. She searched in her purse, came up with her key, and handed it to him. Mike opened the door, and stood aside, for her to enter. She went in, made a rush for the bathroom, and closed the door behind her. Mike followed her in slowly, and seated himself in an easy chair, next to the table in front of the window. When the sound of her retching came from the bathroom, he picked up the phone, dialed room service and ordered assorted cheese and crackers, two bottles of club soda in an ice bucket, and two champagne glasses to drink from.

"There's nothing to prepare except the tray. I want it at my door in five minutes or less."

He hung up the phone, and settled back to wait. It was just at five minutes, when there was a knock on the door. As he went to answer the knock, he heard the shower start to run. At the door he signed his name and room number to the bill, added a nice tip and took the tray from the waiter's hands. He turned back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him, and went to set the tray on the table, settling back into the chair again...

Maggie entered the room, with a towel raised in her hands, to dry her hair. She was enveloped in an oversize terry bathrobe, provided by the hotel. Her raised arms had separated the robe in front, and Mike made no effort to hide his appraisal of her body. He took in all her charms, from the bronze bush at the bottom of her belly, to the rosy tips of her breasts. As she moved the towel, her eyes fell on him, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared.

"Are you still here?"

She then slowly pulled the robe closed, and tied the sash firmly, emphasizing her girlish waist.

"Come on over and have a drink Maggie. The heaves always give me a dry mouth."

Maggie walked to the other easy chair, and settled down, sitting on her feet, with the robe tucked demurely around her knees.

"Are you serious? I don't ever want another drink."

Mike poured two glasses full, and pushed the tray toward Maggie's side of the table.

"Don't be stupid, Maggie. It's club soda. Have some cheese and crackers, too. If you go to bed with an empty stomach, you'll feel much worse in the morning, than if you eat a few bites tonight."

Maggie took the glass from his hand, raised it in a toast to him, and drank half of it down. Mike re-filled her glass, and put the bottle back in the ice bucket.

"Thank you Mike, for everything. I apologize. I don't usually get drunk. The wine at dinner was all right, 'cause there were all the people at the table to talk to, but during the dancing, I was alone too much, and had a lot more champagne than I should have. If it hadn't been for those times you rescued me, I'd have drunk more, and you'd have had to carry me up here, on a luggage cart. Anyway, thanks again."

"I think I know a little of what you're feeling. I'm feeling a little lonely myself. You may have noticed, during our ten hour drive up here, an absence of Lois in the car."

"Well, I noticed she wasn't with us, if that's what you mean, but I didn't think too much of it. To tell the truth, I was thinking about the kids, and how they'll take losing their father. Over the long run, I mean. Right now, they're doing great."

"Our problems are somewhat similar. Yours is a lot more difficult than mine, I think, although my boys are going to be affected, very similarly to yours. The reason Lois isn't here, is that she left me last Tuesday. I don't know if she'll ever be back. So I'm lonely too. Like you, I'm used to company at these things. They're not much fun alone, are they?"

"Forget me. There's nothing anyone can do for the dead, but you've still got options. If you're willing to tell me the problem, maybe between the two of us, we can come up with a solution."

"The problem, is the problem. If I tell you, you might hate me, like she does, and I can't afford to lose a friend, right after I lose a wife."

"Look; I promise you, no matter what it is, I won't hate you; or think less of you. I've known you for years, and I think I know you pretty well."

"'Okay'! I'll trust you on that. You've met my parents, you know they've got some unconventional ideas, on some things. Well, one of those things is incest. They think, the only reason incest causes emotional problems for people, is not the act of incest itself, but the guilt trip society lays on the participants. They figure kids should learn about sex, and the opposite sex, from someone they can count on to accept them as they are, and never hurt them. They think they should act on what they believe, so my mother taught me all about sex and how to treat a woman so she was happy, and my father taught my sister. She's been happily married for twenty years now. Her husband is the most content man I know. When our kids came along, I figured to carry on the family practice. Eventually, I think, society will come around to our way of thinking, but until then we have to keep it a secret. Then, when our daughter, Robin, drowned on our vacation, I kind of lost interest in everything. Even the kids. Recently, however, I've noticed the boys are a little confused, and getting a little hard to talk to. I figured it was sex bothering them. Since they're boys, there isn't anything I can do, so, I tried to talk to Lois, and get her to teach the boys what they need to know. She stared at me, like I was an ax murderer. She literally spit on me, called me a pervert, and then never said another word to me. When I got home from work, the next day, she, and all her clothes, were gone. I haven't heard a word from her, since. Now, you can spit on me, too, and throw me out of your room."

Maggie sat silently in her chair, lost in thought. She had a bemused expression on her face, which Mike couldn't fathom.

"Say something, Maggie. I'm going crazy waiting."

"Relax Mike. I don't hate you, I don't want to spit on you, and I'm not disgusted by you. I am surprised though, and I want you to go, now. I have to think about this, and try to figure out how it will affect our relationship, in the future. I don't expect to reach any conclusion, this week-end, but that's no reason not to enjoy the rest of it. You call me, about ten-thirty tomorrow, and we'll have breakfast, and go to a museum, or something. Don't be embarrassed, about seeing me tomorrow. It'll be one of the things I need to do, to decide how we'll relate to each other, from now on. Now, good night; and thank you. You're a good friend."