The Wild…1
Chandler Fry
The Wild Heart of Life
I saw him in the lobby. He came in through the revolving door, carrying a briefcase and a small luggage bag, and walked, sunglasses still on, to the front desk. He dropped the bag and briefcase on the floor. He took out his wallet. Then he took off his sunglasses and slid them into his shirt pocket.
I was sitting with my husband. He was reading. I was waiting for him to stop reading and suggest we do something. Put-put, I hoped. We hadn’t done that since our wedding and I liked it, I liked it a lot. I looked at him. He cleared his throat and turned the page, as if to say, Don’t bother me, don’t ask, don’t ask. So I didn’t ask if he wanted to go play put-put. I said, “I’m going to see if they have today’s paper.”
I went to the front desk and stood behind the man. He was tan. And tall. And he had short, black hair. When he turned around, I looked right in his eyes. Blue and beautiful. He smiled. I smiled. He picked up his briefcase and bag and left. I watched him go. I wondered if he would be at the resort long.
###
After a while we went back to our room. It was five, which meant it was time for dinner. And put-put.
My husband got a shower first. I sat on the bed and watched TV. This was how it went. People expect marriage to get monotonous after ten years. But I’m here to tell you it gets monotonous after five. Same things, again and again, in the same order. One day you wake up and realize you got excited about going to the movies the night before.
I flicked through the channels, not really paying attention. News, weather, news, sports, sports, sports, old movie. All boring. Then I came to the hotel’s own channel. It was advertising adult programs. Six dollars for each one. A little high, I thought, but--
Victor turned off the shower. I switched the channel to CNN. Some story involving the president and Wall Street.
When Victor stepped out of the bathroom, I said, “Listen at this, the president’s saying those guys who caused the crash didn’t do anything illegal. Immoral, he said, but not illegal. Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” he said, emphasizing the s. “It’s the United fucking States of America. Liberty for a few and justice for even fewer.”
He tossed his towel on the bed. He slid his boxers on. I hopped off the bed and went to the closet.
“Blue?” I asked, holding up one of his dress shirts.
“That’s fine.”
I placed the shirt and a pair of pants on the bed. “So what’re we doing tonight?”
“I’m going out with some of the boys from law school. Phil, Jonathan. Dinner, maybe the bar after that.”
“Oh,” I said. I plopped down on the bed. “So what am I going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wanted to play put-put.”
He turned around and looked at me. “I’m sorry, babe. It’ll just be tonight.”
“Can we play put-put tomorrow?”
“I got my conference tomorrow, but yeah, maybe.”
That meant no.
“I’m getting in the shower,” I said.
He grabbed his wristwatch off the table and looked at it. “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”
“All right,” I said, pulling off my shirt. “Remember your diet. No cheating.”
“I will, I will,” he said.
He wouldn’t.
I shut the door and turned the water to hot. I wanted a lot of steam.
When I got out he was gone.
###
Later I went down to the bar in the lobby and I saw the man. He was drinking a beer, watching some basketball game. He had on a white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up.
I freaked out. I turned around and walked away. My initial thought was to head back up to the room. And I almost did. I pressed the button to summon the elevator. But then I calmed myself. I went back. I sat down near him.
“Gin and tonic,” I said.
The barmaid nodded.
I looked up at the game. Detroit and Los Angles. Victor used to watch Los Angles, back when we were dating. He always tried to explain it to me. I understood some, but not a lot. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be beside Victor. I wondered if Kobe Bryant still played for them.
“Were you checking in?” the man asked. I looked at him. “This morning, were you checking in?”
“No,” I said. “No, I was seeing if they had the paper.”
“Oh yeah?” he said.
I nodded. I looked up at the game, pretending to be interested. It was silent for a while. I began to worry.
Then he said, “You’re sad.”
“What?”
“You’re sad. I can tell.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
He slid into the seat next to me.
“Sad is bad for you. But it is good for me.”
“Oh really?”
“I like sad women.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How long are you going to be here?”
“Three more days.”
“How about this, then?” He looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet an old friend in thirty minutes. But what’s say I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“What’s say I stay right here, with you.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I’m Tietjens.”
###
I came back late. Victor was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. Or just looking at it. When I walked in, he looked up at me, a look for pure confusion on his face.
“Where have you been?”
“I watched a basketball game.”
“A basketball game.”
“Oh, you know, with the ball and the hoop.”
“You hate sports.”
“This one’s not so bad. It’s kinda exciting, you know?”
I tossed my purse on the sofa. It bounced and landed on the floor. My birth control spilled out. I thought that odd and stared at it a moment. When had I put the birth control in my purse? When I packed? I couldn’t remember.
I went to the bathroom.
Victor followed me and stood outside the door.
“Basketball?” he asked.
“Yes,” I called. My voice echoed in the bathroom. I giggled. “My voice echoed!”
“And you got drunk.”
“Well. I had a drink or two.”
“At the bar?”
“Noooooooo. The zoo.”
I came out of the bathroom. Victor was angry. And confused. I understood, right then, that he loved me. Real, true love.
I smiled.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“I don’t want to alarm you, Vic, baby, but I do not think you are quiiiiite drunk enough for this conversation.”
“I’m not drunk at all.”
“The prosecution rests.”
I examined my face in the mirror. I had a little mark on my neck. Oops. Had he noticed?
“All right,” he said. “All right. You’re drunk. Let’s just--lets go to bed and, in the morning--"
“Tell you everything? Back when I’m being a good little girl?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You, uncomfortable? Or is it threatened?”
He tossed his hands up, then flopped onto the bed. He rubbed his eyebrows. His self-assurance was gone.
Now, I thought.
“I saw him this morning.”
He looked up.
“In the lobby. When you were reading.”
“Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”
“And I thought, I’ll give it all up--you, this money, this life, all of it--just for one time, even if--”
“Stop, stop, fucking stop.”
“You’re so sure of yourself.”
I slipped out of my dress. I had on his favorite lingerie.
“Never a thought for me,” I said. “Never.”
###
We were walking to the elevator. I was a little drunk, but I pretended to be drunker.
“Are you taking me to watch the rest of the basketball game?” I giggled.
“Is that what you want?” Tietjens said.
“I think you knoooow what I want.”
I grabbed his arm.
He smiled. He was sure now.
He pressed the elevator button and it dinged. I entered gracelessly. It smelled like sunscreen and sand.
“What floor are you?” I asked.
“Twelve.”
“Bird,” I said.
“What?”
“Living at the top.”
“I guess so.”
And then the door closed and his hands were on me and my hands were on him, traveling up and down, side to side, everywhere, all at once. He tasted like strawberries. I gave him my tongue and he sucked on it. Then he moved to my neck.
Teeth. That shocked me. Teeth. Oh so gently, but teeth. In the elevator. With me. Little oh me. I pulled away.
“You don’t like biting?” he asked. There was a smile on his face that said I was in the wrong if I didn’t like it.
“I have a husband,” I said.
I held up my hand, to show him a ring that was not there. I forgot I had taken it off.
“He doesn’t have to know.”
He kissed me. I kissed him. Then I pulled away.
“No. I can’t.” I turned around and pressed the button for floor nine. We were on seven.
“You gotta be kidding me. What, I mean, what were you thinking would happen?”
“I don’t know. I’m not the one with expectations, apparently.”
The door opened. I turned to the right and found the staircase and then walked down to my room.