But on this day, my dream startled me. It started out well enough, Joel and I and the boys at an amusement park, eating cotton candy and going on all the rides I hated, the fast ones that made my insides switch places. We all got on the Tilt-A-Whirl and began spinning, Joel making it go even faster by turning the wheel in the middle until my body was crushed against his and I rested my head on his shoulders until our ride came to a stop, and when he lifted the safety bar and reached out his hand for me to take, it wasn't Joel at all.
“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded my head and took his hand-one that did not belong to my Joel or my da Vinci, but to my sister's beau.
I'd almost forgotten that you get as much time on break from college as you actually spend in college, so when my father came to pick up the boys that morning for the long weekend, it meant that da Vinci and I would be alone. Entirely alone. For four whole days.
I tried to act nonchalant. After all, da Vinci did spend most of his time in the studio but came and went as he pleased through the back door for dinner or snacks or for stealing kisses when the boys were asleep. It was bad enough having sex with da Vinci in the studio-I vowed I would never be with da Vinci in Joel and my marital bed, Lumpy. I had begun to wonder if da Vinci and I were more “friends” than “lovers,” as we hadn't been together since that night in the studio, but with the boys safely out of the house, the idea to have some fun of my own sounded better every minute.
When I had returned from the gravesite the day before, da Vinci had tenderly wiped the dirt from my cheek where the grass has made an imprint, but he hadn't asked where I'd been. He seemed to notice when I didn't want to talk, but then again, we rarely needed to talk. Words were for whom? Journalists? Novelists? Linguists? Sure. But not always for friends and truly not necessary for lovers. Rachel had been right about that.
When the boys pulled away, waving from their backseats of my father's SUV, I instinctively pulled da Vinci closer to me, and when the car rounded the corner out of sight, da Vinci pulled me into him in a long, urgent kiss that sent us tumbling back into the house for privacy.
I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, but it wasn't food I was hungry for. Da Vinci lifted my flannel nightshirt over my head, kissed my shoulder blade and steered us to the bedroom. I put the brakes on, my feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor, my arm reaching out to grab the wall, but da Vinci was much stronger than I. Before I could protest, we were already on the king-sized bed, much softer than the drafting table in the studio, and I got lost in the heat of our bodies pressing together, forgetting that this bed ever had any other purpose than a soft place to make love in that moment.
“I should've known you'd be blissing,” Anh said, arms crossed in the doorway. I shrieked, awkwardly grabbing for the sheet to cover us, but we were still nearly fully clothed. We hadn't even gotten to third base yet.
Da Vinci's groan turned from pleasure to annoyance. Something was always getting in the way of our togetherness, and it wasn't because of him. My boys. My family. My best friend who really, really should've known better. Nothing should break the spell of a Fantasy Sex Day. It wasn't fair. And I only got one, maybe two, my whole lifetime.
Da Vinci's arm was wrapped around my waist, his hot breaths at my shoulder blade, warming me from the outside in. I couldn't believe I wouldn't get to do what we were about to do. “What are you doing here?”
Anh gave an apologetic shrug, but obviously she wasn't sorry enough to turn around and leave when she saw us. “You said you'd watch Vi for me, remember?”
Vi appeared from behind Anh's legs and stared up at me with her big brown eyes, a sucker stick hanging from her mouth, sugary goo dripping onto my carpet. “I did? Why would I do a crazy thing like that?”
“Because I have the conference in Galveston this weekend, remember?”
I pounded my head against the pillow. So much for a free weekend. “I'm sorry. I can't believe I forgot.”
Anh knelt down, a worried look on her face. “I hate to ask this, but do I look as bad as I feel? I've felt like crap all morning.”
I pressed my cool hand against her head and quickly removed it. “You definitely have a fever.”
Just then Vi removed her sucker and threw up all over the floor beside my bed. She was so shocked at her own vomit that she ran out of the room and straight for the couch, where she promptly spewed again.
Good thing Joel and I had a plan not to get new furniture until our kids were older. Little tykes believe couches are their personal wipe rag. Because our boys had finally reached the age where they knew potato chip grease was meant for napkins instead of seat cushions (well, half the time anyway), we'd been looking for a new couch the week before Joel died, but couldn't agree on one we both liked. Vi began to wail. “Oh-up. Oh-up.”
“Dammit!” Anh said. “My son was sick earlier this week. He must've given us his bug.”
I began tending to my friends. Another clue da Vinci was not a typical American male: he cleaned up the throw-up without even being asked. Actually, I wouldn't have asked him to do it at all, but by the time I'd retrieved the thermometer and trashcan from the bathroom, he had already grabbed a towel and began cleaning the mess. “Carpet cleaner?” he asked, and I directed him to the Oxy10. I'd almost forgotten his last temp job had been cleaning office buildings.
“Oh, God,” Anh said, laying on the clean part of the couch. “He's sexy and he cleans. I'm the world's biggest bitch for breaking up your sexfest.”
“Yes, you are,” I said, shoving the thermometer in her mouth. “But as usual, I'll forgive you. Besides, we have three more days to be together. If he'll forgive me.”
“This can't be happening,” Anh said, closing her eyes.
“Yeah. Tell me about it. Don't talk. We want an accurate read.”
Anh lay moaning on the couch while I scooped up Vi and bathed her and brushed her teeth with my finger. I wrapped her in a towel, and when I returned, I took the thermometer from Anh's hand.
“Yikes. 103,” I said. “On the bright side, you won't have to go to a boring conference.”
“It better not be boring. I'm the one who planned it.”
“You work too hard. A little R &R won't kill you.”
“That's what the conference was supposed to be. Do you know how much my hotel room is? And how much I was looking forward to getting away? And for all intents and purposes, I'm a single mom, you know. Her biological mother hasn't taken her the last four weekends, and her father, well, let's just say he takes after his own father. He's dating some hot college student and hasn't told her about Vi yet, the putz.”
“Well, let's just worry about getting you better now.”
Anh's cell phone rang.
“Don't answer that,” I said just before she answered.
Anh's voice turned from corporate cool to fun and flirty. Nothing in my dissertation research said anything about being able to flirt with a fever. “You don't need to do that,” she cooed.
I mouthed, “Who is it?” but she shooed me away. A moment later, she hung up.
“Nobody,” she said.
“This no-named nobody sure seemed to turn your frown upside down.”
Anh shook her head. “Fine. It's Michael. He said he'd come over and take care of Vi and me this weekend.”