Lover Boy

Walter and Amanda kept fighting about the joint bank account he’d set aside for her. The argument dominated the rest of the vacation without quite ruining it.

They still enjoyed hikes with Evie and DeeDee. The girls learned to fish and Evie relished gutting their catch. They canoed, explored little islands, and discovered various birds and plants. They listened to music—Amanda was amazed that Walter liked jazz and blues probably better than David.

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“Why didn’t you play your CDs for me when I was young?”

“I wasn’t trying to educate you, Amanda. So, we listened to middle-school music.”

Yet, more anger surfaced than Amanda had experienced with either of her ex-husbands. And, Walter told her that he had never faced this much antagonism: not when his ex-wife Sterling ran off with another man; not when she took Olivia from him; not even in prison, where he had quietly withstood a vicious climate.

“You’re saying I’m worse than prison? Is that why you insist on living inside a cage?”

When Amanda came up with that barb, Walter stalked off. Later he said, “If you understood what you’re asking of me, you’d never ask it, Amanda.”

“Oh yeah? You’re asking me to take your money upfront so that if I ever seduce you, I’m a whore.”

For this and similar accusations, she apologized several times a day.

When the week ended, he drove Amanda and the girls, who happily called him “Grandpa,” to the airport. He kissed Evie and DeeDee good-bye. And banking on it serving as mere custom, he kissed Amanda, too. Without warning, though, the little gesture generated a heat that staggered and excited them both. Leaving Walter worried and guilty.

Before passing through security, Amanda invited him for Thanksgiving, “Bring Olivia,” she called.

But five months later, in November, Olivia was still in Australia, with no intention of returning soon. On the phone, Walter asked, “Can I bring a friend, instead? Michelle?”

“Michelle?” Amanda’s heart raced and the room spun. “Of course, Walter. I’ll make hotel reservations.”

No, he’d do that. Amanda spent three weeks conjuring up exactly what Michelle looked like, how she talked and walked, and how she doted on Walter, who was his same age.

She was a tax lawyer, that’s how she and Walter had met. At fifty-eight, Michelle’s face was unlined and taut. Like Amanda’s mother, Cheryl, Michelle swanned around on fabulously high heels. She fixed her blonde hair in a classic French twist and wore gorgeous, white suits embroidered with metallic thread. But her clothes—Amanda doubted it was just fashion—looked a size too small. 

She adored Hemingway and was thrilled by the hotel touting his name. She didn’t think they’d have time for house tours, though. “So I guess we’ll have to come back.” Her giggle sounded to Amanda like fingernails on a blackboard.

When she met Evie and DeeDee, Michelle smacked her forehead, giggling at the old joke, “Guess I forgot to have children.”

Amanda, who’d never heard the line, said, “No woman should feel compelled, Michelle. It’s a serious choice either way.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Michelle grabbed Walter’s waist. “Don’t you agree, lover-boy?”

Amanda turned away fast but not before her eyes rolled.   

When Evie whooped, begging for a whopping-big piece of pie, Michelle, who sat at the opposite end of the table, shook her head. “What happened to your inside voice?”

Amanda almost spoke up, but Evie was already saying, “I’m ten years old, Michelle. ‘Inside voices’ are for toddlers.”

“You’re right, Evie,” Amanda said. “But if you’ll keep your voice down, you can have as much pie as you want.”

“Tell me you don’t encourage your girls to overeat.”

Walter excused himself and went outside without a jacket, despite the cold.

Amanda was seeking a proper comeback, when naturally, skinny Evie eyed Michelle rudely. “Well, at least I’m not busting out of my dress.”

“Go to your room, Evie. You can have dessert later.”

DeeDee, who was not skinny, tossed her napkin on her plate. “Count me outta here.” 

Amanda followed. “Excuse me, Michelle.” But instead of talking to her daughters as she had intended, Amanda joined Walter outside, where he was now sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

“Walter, I’m shocked!” Amanda pulled him up and they searched each other’s eyes a second before he finally grimaced, half-grin, half in pain.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll quit after the weekend.”

“Did you tell Michelle about us?”

“No. I can only stand so much fun, Amanda. As you well know.”

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