Mollie edgewater, p.11
Mollie Edgewater, page 11
“Not really—well—kind of,” he answers while taking a bite of a strawberry.
“You care to share?” she asks.
“The receptionist, she’s really young, but beautiful,” Eric says.
“A young girl? That’s different for you,” his mother says. Eric says, “Not really, I’ve always dated young, gorgeous women.”
“No, that she’s a receptionist,” his mother says.
“She’s nice—smart—pure,” Eric says.
“Okay, tell me about the others,” his mother says. Not a snob, his mother finds the occupation of the woman Eric is currently talking about akin to being a home wrecker. She has lived the scorned wife reality with the buxom twenty-five-year-old behind the desk at her husband’s office innocently answering calls and delivering messages to her much senior, and lecherous, boss, and at some point in his mother’s tenure as Mr.
Majerich’s wife, she discovers the arrangement a trite one.
“Oh, you’re not interested in hearing about Jonnie,” Eric says.
“No, I already know who she is,” his mother answers shortly.
“Then, there is Madge. She’s also a kind soul,” Eric says.
“Aah—you’re dating a Margaret,” his mother says. Eric explains, “Dad hired her to take over for Justine.”
“She must be a smart woman,” his mother surmises.
“Very. You’d never guess, but she really holds everything together— job—family,” his mother says.
“You’re seeing a married woman?” his mother asks.
“No, she’s divorced,” he says. “She has children.”
“Ouch—ready-made family. You sure you want to take on all of that responsibility,” his mother asks.
“I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nice to be around a woman who is not so self-centered. It can be quite comforting, refreshing,” Eric says.
His mother asked, “But, can you see yourself raising her children?”
Eric pauses to consider her question and then says, “I guess yeah, but they’d be our children. Wouldn’t they?”
“Oh, Eric that’s a nice platitude, but they’d be a lot of responsibility—for you. No more trips to the Caribbean or last minute getaways. You’d have to be real father,” his mother says. “Though, it helps that she is driven. Plus, today it’s all the rage to have had at least one marriage before settling down.”
Eric interrupts his mother and says, “And then there is Georgie.”
“Sounds very southern,” her mother said.
“No, she’s from the North,” Eric states plainly. His mother replies, “Tell me a little about her.”
“She has a wine business,” Eric says.
“She travels?” his mother asks.
“A lot,” Eric says.
“Which means?” his mother asks.
Eric says, “I won’t see too much of my wife.”
His mother takes another sip of the contents in the tumbler while studying her son, and then she asks, “She sophisticated?”
“Of course, to a fault,” Eric says.
His mother says, while pointing the open part of the glass at him, “If you ask me, but you didn’t, she sounds like she’s a keeper.”
“Mom, why do you think so?” Eric asks.
“Because, if she has her own business, then she’s like us,” his mother explains. “She’ll understand you, who you are, why you are the way you are. It’ll give you the freedom I never had.”
“What do you mean?” Eric asks, hoping his mother expounded further on her own experience with his father. His mother rarely discussed her relationship with his father or any other man for that matter.
“She does not have to adjust to your lifestyle. It means she knows the rules Eric,” his mother says while musing. “For me that type of stuff— the stuff of business men—I found difficult to deal with—and boring.”
Eric looks at his mother, and for the first time, he notices that life with his father had not been easy.
“Father?” Eric asks, “Was he not a good husband?”
“Oh, your father and I were rocky from the start. It’s really nothing to go on about, the typical life of a wealthy business man and beautiful very young woman,” she says. “So—there are three women. Have you made a selection?”
“There is also a writer,” he says quietly. This time is the first Eric acknowledges Mollie as a viable, potential partner.
His mother laughs and says, “They’re always an interesting bunch. How did you meet? It seems odd since your father is not inclined to mingle with anyone in the arts.”
“I’m helping her with a novel—her latest novel. But enough about me and my life, are you seeing anyone?” Eric asks.
To that question, his mother laughs loudly and says, “Eric, I’ll always be your mother.”
Chapter 23 Rich
Rich drops the girls off at a birthday party-sleep over. When he returns, Mollie and he go to opposite parts of the house. She and Rich have come to somewhat of a compromise with her writing. Mollie only writes in the morning, and Rich does not bother her about the inordinate amount of time she spends on her craft. With her house in order, Mollie returns to writing. She is well into Chapter 15 when Eric shows up.
“Hey,” he says quietly opening the French doors.
“Eric, what are you doing here? Rich’s home. You can’t stay,” she states hurriedly.
“Come with me,” Eric says. He is holding one of the French doors open and beckoning Mollie to follow him.
“I can’t,” Mollie pauses and then says, “What will I tell my husband?” “Tell him anything. Tell him you’re going on an errand,” Eric says in a hushed voice. Mollie, by this time, is standing in front of him by the patio door contemplating her next move.
With one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip, she says, “Okay Eric, but we can’t be gallivanting all over the world. I almost got caught last time.”
She then leaves Eric and walks out of the office into the kitchen where Rich is making a sandwich.
“Who were you talking to? Is there someone in there with you?” he asks.
“No, I was on the phone. Anyway, I have an errand to go on. I’ll be back later,” she says quickly. She hopes Rich does not ask for an explanation because she just wants to leave with Eric. Rich looks at his wife first and walks past her toward her office.
“Where are you going?” Mollie says running behind him. Rich opens
the door, but the office is empty, to Mollie’s relief.
Closing the door behind him and satisfied that his wife was not lying to him, he asks, “Can I come? I need to do some things as well. No point taking two cars.”
Mollie’s thoughts race as she tries to come up with a reason as to why he cannot tagalong. Then, the perfect excuse comes to her.
“You can if you want, but I’m going to try to get a walk-in
appointment at the salon, if you don’t mind waiting,” Mollie says.
Rich hates the salon.
“You know. I’ll pass on second thought,” he says and walks out of the office ahead of Mollie. Just as they leave the office, Mollie walks out the door when Rich thinks the sight of her without a purse or keys unusual.
“Mollie, your purse,” Rich says running after her. She grabs her purse, gets in the car and pulls out of the driveway. She searches for Eric down the block, and when she sees the Mustang parked further down the street, she waves to him and says, “I’ll follow you.”
“He won’t see the car. Park,” Eric commands. Mollie parks the car in a private nook down the street, and then joins Eric in his car.
“Where to?” she asks.
Eric remains quiet and drives. By twelve in the afternoon, they pull up to a grassy field. The field is filled with spectators on both sides.
“You’re going to watch me play,” Eric says.
Mollie gets out of the car and joins the rest of the spectators. Many of the female spectators are wearing odd hats of various sizes and colors, a haberdasher’s dream. She thinks she is at a derby, except when the players begin the game, it is polo they play.
Eric plays aggressively. The red in his cheeks flush his face and flash fire every time he strikes the ball. Every time he is the center of attention, something arises in Mollie so much that she just wants to cheer for him loudly, except the crowd seems to be bit subdued and stuffy.
When the match finishes, she admires Eric as he hangs around the players and chats about the game. She is so focused on him that she almost misses the slip of a girl hanging around the edges of the players because she is so consumed with all of Eric. Sharon Edgewater, of Around the Block fame, is the woman haunting the perimeter of the team’s circle. The only reason Mollie recognizes her is because of her hair, one long braid parted down the center. An immediate envy erases her previous loving thoughts of Eric, as Sharon’s generous hips and multitudinous breasts jockey for space around the players. Mollie’s eyes never leave Edgewater, and she is quite relieved when Eric returns.
“Let’s go love,” Eric says to Mollie as he touches her on the chin. They drive for a few more minutes, and then he parks the vehicle on a red clay road that leads into a small forest. He takes her into a grove. While Eric gets the basket out of the car, Mollie notices a group of wild horses. She watches fascinated by the scene. Eric places the basket down and walks over to Mollie. He takes her by the hand, and they walk toward one of the horses. Then, he and Mollie mount.
The horse is strong, and she can feel its strength with every stride. Eric handles the horse expertly as he guides them through hilly land and through a brook. They come out on the other end to a hill that overlooks a valley. The view is so breathtaking that Mollie leans her head against Eric’s shoulder blade and pulls him into a close embrace. He places his hands over hers, and they sit taking in the view. They dismount the horse and watch it gallop in the other direction. He then turns around in the direction of the car. She follows him toward the blanket and the basket. He hands her a bottled water from the basket, grabbing one for himself, and he watches Mollie as she guzzles its contents. She kneels before him on the blanket, the sun in the horizon behind her.
“How glorious,” he thinks to himself. He is so entranced with this vision of Mollie that he comes closer to her, his face almost touching hers.
He is about to kiss her, she thinks, when he asks, “Is this your natural color?” lifting one of her pigtails.
“My hair is, actually, a shade of sandy blonde,” she continues as if explaining the blonde highlights. “The highlights bring out the color in my skin.”
He does not say anything. He just reaches out to caress her cheek, noting the structure of her face.
“Have you always worn your hair this way?” Eric asks.
Mollie has worn her hair in this style since college.
“Yeah,” she answers.
“It just seems strange. You’ve got such a delicate face with so much hair,” he says stroking her chin with his thumb. He then turns to the basket and pulls out lunch.
They both eat in silence for a while, and then Eric asks Mollie, “Do you love, Mollie dearest?”
Eric does not know where the question comes from because his heart is so full with desire for her, and since he cannot ask the question he wants to ask, he asks this one.
“Oh Eric, you are so juvenile. There are so many ways to love someone,” Mollie says.
“How do you love Rich?” Eric asks. His question pricks her heart because she does love Rich, but if Eric does or says the right words to her, she will definitely betray her commitment to him.
Her voice almost pleading with him, Mollie says, “Eric, that’s really personal.”
“Is it?” he asks while looking at her, his eyes bearing into her.
“Rich and I have grown to be more than just lovers. We’re friends. We’re partners. We share a life—kids—family—memories,” Mollie explains.
“It’s really like being one person.”
“And me? Do you love me, Mollie?” Eric says, his gaze resting on her face.
“Eric! Stop it,” Mollie says. She is slightly embarrassed because she speaks to no one this intimately other than her husband. “You know that I care deeply for you.”
“But do you love me, Mollie?” he begs her.
“Yes,” she answers and immediately regrets her openness. “I’m sorry. I mean I didn’t mean to intimate that—”
Eric says, “No, it’s okay. I just wondered why you love me because
your life is so full with Rich.”
“You’re passionate. When I’m with you, I’m young, beautiful,
innocent, pure again. I’ll be turning forty-one this year, and when I look in the mirror, I look better than I have in years. I know this is because of you. I know it is you!” Mollie exclaims and reaches out to touch his face.
Eric is slightly disappointed because he has done what he is supposed to for Mollie. He stirs in her a passion to write, but he wants more from her, more than he knows she can give to him. Mollie moves closer to Eric and begins to caress his face. She kisses his face and then his lips lightly. He kisses her as well and then he backs away from her.
“Stop,” Eric says. “Stop it, Mollie.”
“What? What Eric, people have affairs all the time,” Mollie says while continuing to kiss him.
Eric then glares at her and then softens his gaze. He takes her hands off his face and entwines them in his.
“Mollie, I could make love to you right now, make you fall passionately in love with me, but would you know what it would mean for you to actually love me, love me in a real way?” Eric asks searching her face for something indicating that she capable of more than a tryst in an orchard many others have probably made love in.
Mollie sits back against the trunk of the tree and says, “No, I guess I can’t say that I would.”
The mood is dampened, and soon after, they are speeding toward Mollie’s house. Mollie thinks about his question all the way home, and when Rich meets her at the door, she comes into a new understanding of what it means to love in a real way.
“How was the salon?” Rich asks. He is livid. Since the first time she disappears, he has come home to a house in neglect. In past times, the house always smelled of flowers or cooked food, but lately, she has been either too occupied with this new novel or just emotionally vacant. She tells him she is going to the salon, so when she is not there when he goes to check on her, for the first time, his thoughts race as to where she might have gone. This feeling is only intensified when he drives into their neighborhood and finds her small bug parked in a secluded nook on the
street.
“Fine, it was kind of busy,” Mollie explains. She is still with Eric, in the moment of his embrace. She sees this conversation much like the others, a nuisance to an otherwise blissful day. While listening to Rich, she remembers that she has left the sprinklers on outside, and she places her purse down. She heads out to the patch in her yard with Rich following close behind her.
“Wait, Mollie,” Rich says, and he grabs her by the arm.
“What Richard! I was at the salon,” Mollie says. She is slightly perturbed by her husband’s persistence.
“Mollie, you did not get your hair done. In fact, I went to the salon because—” Rich says, this time insistent she explain herself.
“So now you’re spying on me Rich?” Mollie asks, knowing she is a hypocrite for trying to turn the argument around.
“No, your editor called a little while after you left. She said it was important, but now that I think about it, I wish I had been spying,” Rich said. “Where have you been? The entire afternoon has come and gone. The girls have not only done their chores, eaten, and now they are getting ready for bed, and you have been where?”
“Rich, I was at the salon, and it was busy. I made an appointment, so I would not have to wait next time,” Mollie says. She hates lying to Rich, and before this season, she has never had to. “Okay, what do you want to know? You think I am having an affair—”
“Yes! Yeah, I do! All of these unexplained absences. My children are left alone to tend themselves. I come home, and there is nothing on the stove, and you are nowhere to be found, and when I do catch up with you, you have some cliché excuse for where you have been! Now, I want some answers and I want them now Mollie or—,” Rich says pointing his fingers toward the ground.
“Or what? You’re going to leave me,” Mollie says. She is daring him to leave. “Rich, you are not going to leave me, and we both know that.”
She shuts off the spigot that is spraying water all over the yard and brushes past him toward the house. Rich grabs her arm again, tearing the floral shirt she is wearing.
“Rich, for god sakes, no, I’m not having an affair!” Mollie exclaims and turns toward the house. By this time, she is striding toward the house. “Keep your voice down the girls are sleeping,” Rich says. In a quieter voice, he says, “I want to know where you have been going—and no bullshit this time Mollie.”
Chapter 24 Georgie
“Tulips have a sweet smell. Not too strong on the nose. They come in a variety of colors and most of the aroma comes from the stem not the flower,” Eric explains to Georgie while holding up his fingers. Georgie takes the flower from his hand and presses it against her nose.
“I don’t smell anything,” she says.
“No silly, don’t mash it up to your nose. The scent is little further down on the stem,” he says and takes the flower from her hand. He presses his hand against the stem and then places his index and middle finger against her nose.
“Mmmm-it’s kind of citrusy,” she says while wrinkling up her nose. “I know. Over here,” Eric says while pointing to the begonias in the garden, “these have a similarly rose-lemony smell.”
