Times Like These Read online

  It would hurt people they cared about. Would he move in? Would they be girlfriend and boyfriend? That was ridiculous. She had never called herself anyone’s girlfriend. By choice.

  She lifted Hunter’s arm and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Rosalie. His wife. What would Sofia think of her? Some kind of role model. Her father. What would he say?

  Hunter murmured, snored and rolled over until his back was turned to her. She stared for a moment at the dark hairs that lightly covered his back and shoulders. She hadn’t noticed them before but now, she thought it was peculiar that the dark colouring was a contrast to his silver hair. She wondered if his wife had ever had the same consideration.

  Urgh, she was driving herself crazy.

  She glanced at her bedside clock. 07:59. It was as good a time as any to break her cycle of thought.

  After slipping out of the covers, she pulled on a pair of stonewash jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt from her closet. Having found her sneakers and located her purse, she gently closed the apartment door and headed to her favourite bakery, three blocks away.

  This was the best time of the week for Andrea – early on a Saturday morning, before shoppers, tourists, dog walkers and families with strollers hit the streets. When Williamsburg was waking up. The sun had risen but wasn’t yet too hot. Before cars were noisily filling the air and before the stalls were being set up for Smorasburg market. She didn’t need to wear tailored clothes or make-up. She could just be herself, with herself, please herself.

  She closed her eyes on the sidewalk when the first scent of fresh bread and pastries reached her nose from the bakery. The only thing that could possibly rival that smell as the best in the world, was the scent of fresh coffee being brewed.

  She smiled to an elderly man, whose name she didn’t know but whose face she recognised as the one that always took up a seat at a small iron table outside the bakery. As usual, he dipped his head today without speaking.

  Stepping inside the corner building, she was immediately thrust into sensory overload. Baskets filled with fresh baguettes, sourdough and bloomers lined the walls. The glass counter was filled with macarons, fresh fruit tarts, vanilla slices, every kind of Danish imaginable.

  ‘Hey Andi!’ She smiled to Aliza, who was already reaching for a takeout coffee cup in anticipation. ‘The usual?’

  Aliza had been serving Andrea every Saturday morning for the last two years. Every week, without fail, she smiled and offered a bubbly welcome. She was only slightly plump, which Andrea thought was nothing short of miraculous, given she worked among such decadence. The plumpness suited her personality in the most stereotypical of ways and with her cupcake apron tied around her front, everything about Aliza made Andrea envious. To the naked eye, she had such a straightforward life.

  ‘Hey ’Liza. Actually, I’ll take two filter coffees and two almond croissants today, please. Then I’ll take the usual rosemary focaccia and a date and walnut loaf.’

  Aliza paused somewhat comically, with the coffee cup in her hand and her jaw loose. Andrea couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her.

  ‘Not alone then?’ Aliza asked with obvious playfulness.

  Andrea smiled. What would it be like to say, Hunter and I are doing this or Hunter and I are doing that? She hadn’t much considered it before now. Then, Hunter had never so much as hinted that he might feel more for her than a bit of fun on the side.

  It sounded odd and, honestly, not like something she could ever imagine herself saying.

  Armed with breakfast, she strode toward home with her shoulders back and her chin high.

  With coffees balanced in a tray and bread tucked under her arms, she fumbled for her keys in her pocket but before she got them in the lock, the door to her apartment was pulled open.

  Hunter stood in front of her, dressed in last night’s clothes. He replaced his shock very quickly with a smile but not quickly enough.

  ‘I was wondering where you got to,’ he said.

  Was he leaving? Really? ‘I went to get breakfast. Were you leaving?’

  ‘N-no, I saw you coming, I was getting the door.’

  He turned his back, not taking anything from her, and led the way to her kitchen.

  ‘What did you get?’ he asked.

  Not quite sure what to make of the situation, she simply told him, ‘Coffee and croissants,’ and set about putting the other items in her bread bin.

  He remained standing as he tore off a large chunk of croissant and put it in his mouth, washing it down with coffee, barely chewing and making a sipping sound.

  Andrea watched him, a little repulsed. ‘I thought maybe we could have breakfast and, you know, talk about last night.’

  He regarded her for silent seconds before he said, ‘You like the jewellery, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, the bracelet is beautiful.’

  He grinned. ‘Good.’

  She sighed. ‘Hunter, last night you told me you love me. Was that just… I mean, did you… Do you mean it?’

  He walked around the counter to her on the opposite side and pulled her waist until they were inches apart. ‘I have to go to Europe next week on business. Come with me.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘With me, yes.’ He laughed at her again. ‘We could have gelato in St Mark’s Square, bratwurst in Berlin.’

  ‘That sounds…’ Scary? Odd? Unlikely?

  He turned back to the counter and put another chunk of croissant in his mouth, then slurped coffee. With his mouth full, he said, ‘You can clear it at Stellar. Say you’re legitimately scouting for talent in Europe who could make it in the US.’

  Andrea scoffed when confronted with her own stupidity. ‘More lies. More hiding. God, I’m such an idiot.’

  She walked calmly to her bedroom. Then back to the kitchen, where she placed the black velvet box and its contents that he had given her last night on the counter in front of him. ‘You have no intention of ever telling her about us. You’ve no intention of us ever being together. Telling me you love me was the oldest trick in the book and I slept with you anyway.’

  ‘Now, hey, where has all this come from? We’ve got a good thing going here, kiddo. Why rock the boat?’

  ‘Hunter, you’re so full of shit. Take your jewellery and get out.’

  ‘You’re being irrational, Andrea. I have a life, a family. I can’t just throw that away. They depend on me. You… You’re independent. Fine on your own. This works for both of us.’

  ‘Hunter, I don’t want you to throw anyone away except me. Get out.’

  ‘Andi.’

  ‘Get out, Hunter.’

  ‘Kiddo.’

  ‘Get the fuck out!’ she screamed.

  What in God’s name had she been thinking? To risk Rosalie over this? To risk Hannah and Sofia?

  She threw the black box after him and as soon as her apartment door slammed shut she broke. Her legs gave out and her tears fell. She knew, without doubt, that Hunter would forget about her long before she ever got over what she had done to the people she loved.

  10

  Hannah

  The thing about being a mom is, you constantly want a break from the crying, the feeding, the cleaning and the squabbles. But when you get a break, you feel guilty about it. The concert on Thursday had been fun. Hannah had been granted time to be an adult woman, dressed nicely, having drinks with her girlfriends. She had enjoyed herself but felt a low level of guilt in the back of her mind the entire evening. She had left all three children being ‘babysat’ by their father – she wouldn’t even get started on the fact Rod considered looking after his own kids as ‘helping her’.

  She had endured Andrea at work on Friday – long in the face because, surprise surprise, the woman having an affair with her best friend’s married father was getting hurt. By the time she had taken the train back to New Jersey on Friday evening, she was desperate to see her kids.

  Until… She had arrived home, pushing the door against her eldest�
��s school backpack, that had been dumped in the porch. Four sets of shoes – including the baby’s – had been kicked off in all directions. As she bent to straighten the shoes, she heard an almighty scream. Running into the house, she found the middle kid crying and shouting at the older kid for God knows what and chasing him with slime. TJ was lying in his bouncer chair watching what looked like John Wick 2 in the lounge, where empty beer bottles and snack wrappers covered the coffee table.

  ‘Babysitting clearly involved Daddy’s friends last night,’ she muttered to no one.

  ‘All right, you two, calm it. Now! Jackson put the slime away. If I have to wash that stuff off my walls again, there’ll be big trouble, Mister. Luke, you’re supposed to be grown-up. Get over here and tell me what happened – no lies.’

  ‘He will lie. He always lies,’ Jackson shouted.

  Hannah gave him stern eyes. ‘Young man, you’ll get your turn next. Go and put that slime away like I’ve told you.’

  She headed into the lounge, unstrapping TJ from his bouncer and hooking his legs around her hip. ‘Go ahead, Luke.’

  ‘He was taking forever to eat his Shake Shack. I thought he’d finished, so I ate his last fries, then he started screaming like a little girl.’

  ‘I’m not a girl!’ Jackson said, coming into the lounge sans slime. ‘He ate my fries ’cause he’s a big fat ass.’

  ‘Jackson! We don’t call each other fat asses. Luke apologise to your brother for eating his fries. Jackson apologise for calling your brother a fat ass.’

  ‘He is a fat—’ She silenced him with a look.

  ‘After three you’ll each say sorry.’ She had learned not to ask one to go before the other and start a new fight. ‘One. Two. Three.’

  ‘Sorry,’ they said in huffy unison.

  ‘Now, why were you eating Shake Shack for dinner? Where’s Dad?’

  ‘In the garage doing weights,’ Luke said.

  Sure he is. What else would he be doing after picking up our three children from school and putting them on a trash-food high?

  ‘Okay, I’m going to find him. You guys… Be nice.’

  With TJ in tow, she made her way to the garage, where Rod had his headphones in his ears, doing shirtless pull ups on his multi-gym.

  Sure, she was mad at him but that was pretty much the normal state of play, so why couldn’t she take a moment to enjoy the way his abdominal muscles flexed, his quadriceps tensed, his biceps bulged. That his artwork was framed in sweat was somehow even more of a turn-on.

  Wait, why had she come to see him again?

  When he caught her looking, she raised a hand but she would not smile, no siree, she was cross with him, after all.

  She glanced one last time from across her shoulder as she walked away and received a ‘Hey baby,’ accompanied by a knowing grin, in return.

  The next time she had seen Rod, he had been leaving the house smelling of cologne, heading for beers with the guys. Apparently, Hannah’s one night off in seven months warranted Rod’s one hundredth.

  Naturally, his beers had led to him snoring all night and Hannah getting up every hour or two, thanks to TJ teething.

  Now, she was standing on the sideline of one football field with TJ strapped to her front, cheering on Luke, whilst Rod was standing on an adjacent football field cheering on Jackson. They switched kids on a weekly basis to ensure they both got to see each child play without being accused of favouritism (this had happened in the past).

  This was her life – football, arguments, sleepless nights. Thank heavens for mommy friends, who knew how much fellow mommies needed coffee.

  ‘White, no sugar,’ one of the school moms said, approaching Hannah with a tray of mugs from the clubhouse.

  ‘You’re my angel,’ Hannah said, taking the cup and wrapping both hands around it.

  After football, they went to see Granny – Rod’s mom – in her care home. That was a long hour of mixed-up names, snarling at the kids, and repeatedly asking everyone to stay quiet.

  Then they had gone to a panini chain, where they spent a small fortune on sandwiches she could have made at home, apples and juice boxes. She and Rod broke up a fight between the eldest one and the middle one over the banana that Hannah tried to feed TJ but that he turned his nose up at.

  Now, they were headed home in the car she called a bus, which they had been forced to buy to fit in a teenager, a lanky middle kid and a child-seat kid, with trunk space big enough for groceries and a hand-me-down pushchair. TJ and Jackson were sleeping. Luke had his headphones stuck in his ears watching something she probably wouldn’t approve of on his iPad.

  These fleeting moments of calm and quiet were what she lived for. She leant back in her seat and turned her head to look at Rod. He glanced to her then placed his hand on her thigh. She took hold of it and closed her eyes.

  ‘Han. Hannah. Light of my world.’

  She opened her eyes to see Rod standing at the passenger side door on their driveway with TJ in his arms.

  ‘Oh God, I fell asleep,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, I got that when you were drooling and calling out my name. Rod, oh Rod, take me to bed, baby.’

  Despite herself, she laughed. ‘In your dreams.’

  ‘No, baby, in yours.’

  ‘Jackass,’ she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear as she climbed out of the car.

  He held a hand over one of TJ’s ears. ‘Not in front of the kid.’

  * * *

  ‘Homework time, please,’ Hannah called up the stairs to Luke and Jackson. It was the usual routine – an hour’s stint on spellings or math on either a Saturday or Sunday, depending on plans. In Luke’s case, she wasn’t sure she and Rod could even help any more.

  As predicted, she received grumbles and lies for five minutes before they gave in and went quiet. She tiptoed up the staircase and checked on both boys – who were, in fact, doing their homework. A rare but beautiful moment.

  Back downstairs, she prepared a dinner of pasta for four – with chili for grown-ups and without for kids – and blended sweet potato for one. TJ wasn’t feeling solids greatly, still preferring milk to anything else, and in truth, he was a tad too young. But he was a hungry little monster and now that he was at nursery, they had to get him onto solids.

  One by one, Rod, Luke and Jackson came into the kitchen, took a plate of food and headed into the lounge. Hannah put TJ into his high-chair, took her own seat at the kitchen table beside him and set down a plate of pasta in front of herself but far enough away from TJ’s grabby hands.

  ‘Let’s see how you like sweet potato, buddy, shall we?’ She filled a plastic dinosaur spoon with the orange-coloured mush and flew it like an airplane toward TJ’s mouth. ‘Neeoum.’

  He seemed to swill it around his mouth, then swallow it down and stick out his tongue like a lizard over-and-over again.

  ‘Yummy, right?’

  Hannah filled the spoon again and repeated the process. ‘Neeoum.’

  As soon as the food touched TJ’s tongue it came flying back out of his mouth and all over Hannah. She wiped remnants from her face then picked a lump from her chest.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no then, shall I? Try one more for Mom, please.’

  He shook his head and made disgusted noises but swallowed the next spoonful.

  She took a congratulatory forkful of her pasta. And so they continued for the next fifteen minutes, until TJ’s boredom emanated in a scream.

  She had managed one third of her own meal before she began pacing the kitchen floor, bouncing TJ gently on her hip.

  By the time TJ had settled, the other three were lying on the sofas in the lounge, laughing at something they were watching on TV. Three plates stood dirty and empty of food in various positions around the lounge floor.

  She set TJ down in his playpen and picked up the plates, rinsing then depositing them in the dishwasher. She poured herself a glass of red wine and took it with her upstairs to the main bathroom. She contemplated running
a bath and decided it would be pointless. Her kids had a sixth sense for when she was bathing and generally chose that moment to need a poo.

  No. She would just sit on the toilet for five minutes with her glass of wine, then go back to life.

  She turned to put the lid down on the toilet and was greeted by skid marks – probably Rod’s – and a floating ball of poo – most likely Jackson’s. She flushed the toilet, brushed away the skids, put down the lid and drank her wine.

  It turned out that the others had been watching the recent Jumanji in the lounge. She enjoyed a second glass of wine and made Rod an El Dorado 15 with Coke. An argument ensued which they had heard a thousand times, about Luke taking his driving test and getting a car for his eighteenth birthday, which they simply could not afford. The argument resulted in Luke slamming the front door on his way to a friend’s house nearby.

  Eventually, the other two kids either walked or were carried to bed.

  ‘Finally,’ she said, sighing as she came to sit on the sofa next to Rod. It had been years since she had lost the ability to sit or stand without audible expressions.

  ‘Come on, Han. Sit down next to your man.’

  She slipped under Rod’s arm and rested her head on his chest. ‘Can we not watch sports and maybe listen to some music? Smooth jazz like your dad used to play?’

  ‘On this occasion, I’m going to bow to my woman.’ Rod hit one remote to turn off the television and another to turn on the music player.

  Hannah wanted to finish her wine and fall asleep, right there on his firm chest. But two minutes (maybe less) into the first Louis Armstrong track and Rod’s hands were wandering. She knew every one of his strokes and touches, what they meant depending on their pace and location. The way he was using just the tips of his fingers to roll up and down her spine was asking for sexy time.

  These were the moments where she had to muster. Not because she wasn’t attracted to Rod. She absolutely was. But because TJ had been a result of their slack attitude to contraception when they were just starting to get their lives back on track – no nurseries, the childminder fees almost a memory, both able to start thinking about things they wanted to do for themselves. Unfortunately, their excitement at getting their nights back to themselves had led to a forgetful incident, which ultimately led to TJ. Now, she had to dig deep and wake up her sleepy libido.