“My, how you spoil me…it smells delicious…. What's for dinner?”
“Baked potatoes, Caesar salad, steak, and cheesecake.” His favorites, but it sounded good to her, too. And she had bought a nice bottle of French Bordeaux. She liked it better than Napa Valley.
“Sounds fantastic!” He took a sip of the wine and made a yummy sound, and ten minutes later they sat down to dinner at her battered dining table. He never objected to the grim furnishings of her apartment, and seemed not to see them whenever he hung out there. He complimented her lavishly on the dinner. She had made the steak exactly the way he liked it, just rare enough but not too rare. He heaped sour cream and chives that she had chopped into his baked potato. Sometimes she really enjoyed being domestic, and even the Caesar salad was delicious. “Wow! What a meal!” He loved it, and she was pleased. He was always generous with kind words and praise, and she loved that about him. Her mother had been critical of her all her life, and her father had been too out of it to know she existed. It meant a lot to her to have someone acknowledge the nice things she did. Most of the time, Phil did.
“So what did you do today?” she asked happily, as she served him a slice of the cheesecake. She preferred chocolate herself but always bought cheesecake for him. She knew he loved it. “Did you get the tires and all the other stuff done?” She assumed he had, since they had been apart for nine hours. He should have been able to get everything done by the time he got back to her apartment just in time for dinner.
“You won't believe it, you'll never believe how lazy I was. I got back to my place, got all organized, and wound up watching some stupid old gladiator movie on TV. It wasn't Spartacus, but a poor man's version of it. I sat there for three hours, and by then I was really lazy. I took a nap. I called a couple of people. I went to pick up my dry cleaning, and ran into Dave Mackerson, I hadn't seen him in years, so I went out to lunch with him, then I went to his place and played video games. He just moved into a fantastic house in the marina, with a view of the whole bay. We polished off a bottle of wine, and by the time we did, I came back here. I'll pick up the tires next week. It was just one of those days when I didn't accomplish a damned thing, but it felt good. It was great to see Dave again. I didn't realize he got divorced last year. He has a mighty cute girlfriend.” He laughed easily then, as Sarah tried not to stare at him. “She's about the same age as his oldest kid. In fact, I think she's a year younger. He gave Charlene the house in Tiburon, but I like his new place a lot better. More style, more modern, and Charlene was always a bitch.” Sarah sat listening to Phil, feeling breathless. She said nothing. She had left him alone all day, so he could do his errands, and because she didn't want to crowd him, while he had watched TV at his place, had lunch with a friend, and played video games all afternoon. He could have spent the afternoon with her, if he wanted to do that. But the painful reality was that he didn't want to. He would rather have spent the afternoon with his buddy, talking about what a bitch his ex-wife was, and admiring his twelve-year-old girlfriend. Sarah nearly cried as she listened, but did everything in her power not to. It was always so hurtful and disappointing when he did things like that. And Phil had absolutely no idea that she was upset, or why she would be. That was the core of the problem. Everything he had done that day seemed fine to him, including leaving Sarah out of his life, in spite of the fact that this was the weekend. But in his mind, it was his life. Not “their” life: only his. She had accepted it for four years, but now it infuriated her. His priorities were so insulting and hurt her feelings. And saying it to him, as she had tried to on occasion, made her sound like a bitch to him, or so he said. More than anything, he hated complaints, and wanted total freedom about how he spent his time.
“Did you meet her?” Sarah asked, staring into her plate. She knew that if she looked at Phil, she would say something she shouldn't and might regret later, like start a fight with him, which would go on all night. She was really angry, more than hurt this time. She felt as though he had stolen the day from her.
“Charlene? Of course. I went to college with her. Don't you remember? I went out with her my freshman year, which is how Dave met her. She got knocked up, and he married her. Glad it was him and not me. Christ, I can't believe they were married for twenty-three years. Poor bastard. She really took him to the cleaners. They always do,” Phil said, polishing off his cheesecake with a satisfied look, as he complimented Sarah again on the dinner. She seemed quiet to him, but he assumed she was probably just full, or tired from the cooking. To Sarah, everything he had just said sounded so disrespectful, about Charlene, their marriage, about women in general. As though all women were lying in wait for men, plotting to marry them, and then divorce them and screw them out of everything they had. Some did that, she knew. Most didn't.
“I didn't mean Charlene,” Sarah said quietly. “I meant the girlfriend. The one younger than his oldest kid.” In Dave's case, Sarah knew that meant she was twenty-two. She could do the math. She just couldn't stomach what that looked like, or said about Phil's old college roommate. What was wrong with all these guys, that they were out there, lusting after girls who were barely more than children? Didn't any of them want a grown-up woman with a brain? Or some experience or maturity? Sitting there, at the table with Phil, she felt like a relic. At thirty-eight, those girls could almost be her children. It was a frightening thought. “Did you meet the girlfriend?” Sarah repeated the question, and Phil looked at her strangely, wondering if she was jealous. As far as he was concerned, that would have been stupid, but you never knew with women. They got upset about the damnedest things. He was almost positive that Sarah wasn't old enough to be sensitive about her age, or anyone else's. In fact, she was, and even more sensitive about how he had spent his day, without including her. She had spent her whole day alone, while he hung out in his apartment, and then played video games with his friend. The reality of that hurt like hell.
“Yeah, of course I did. She was hanging around. She played pool with us for a few minutes. She's a cute girl, not much upstairs, but she looks like a Playboy bunny. You know Dave.” He said it almost admiringly. The girl was obviously considered a trophy of sorts, even to Phil. “She got kicked out of her apartment by her roommates, and I think she's living with him.”
“How lucky for him…or maybe for her,” Sarah said in an acid tone, and felt like a bitch as she said it.
“Are you pissed off about something?” It was written all over her face. Helen Keller would have sensed it. And Phil was watching her closely. He was beginning to get it.
“Yes, actually, I am,” Sarah said honestly. “I know you need space to do your own stuff. So I didn't call you all day. I figured you'd call me when you were through. Instead, you were at your place, watching TV, and then hanging out with Dave, and his dumbass bimbo, playing video games and shooting pool, instead of spending it with me. I see little enough of you as it is.” She hated the tone of her own voice, but couldn't help it. She was livid.
“What's the big deal? Sometimes I need some time to chill. We weren't having an orgy, for chrissake. The girl's a kid. That may be Dave's cup of tea, but it's not mine. I love you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her, but this time she didn't respond and turned her face away, and Phil was starting to look annoyed. “For chrissake, Sarah! What are you? Jealous? I came home to you, didn't I? We just had a nice dinner. Don't screw it up.”