Page 13 of Private Pleasures

“Jeff wouldn’t pay for the extra hookup, and since each time I go it costs three ninety-five, I can’t go too often. Even though I pay the bills, I have to account for every penny he gives me,” Nora explained. “Too many movies, and he’ll wonder why. But it’s like your favorite cookies, or potato chips. Once you’ve tasted the pleasures The Channel offers, you’re addicted.”

Carla nodded. “I know,” she said. “So what about Friday night?”

“We’ve got the AA awards. Jeff will probably come home. He’ll stay the weekend. Doesn’t like to look bad,” Nora said.

“So you’ve got a couple of days to get all hot and bothered again,” Carla teased her best friend. “I pity Kyle, Rolf, and whoever else you dream up come your next visit to The Channel.” She grinned mischievously. “Monday nights at The Channel. Are you ready for some fucking?” she paraphrased a commercial for the autumn football programming.

Nora laughed. “You’re impossible, Carla Johnson, but you sure are fun. Tell me how you manage to use The Channel? I mean Rick is always home at night.”

“Ah, but my darling spouse is usually asleep by nine or nine thirty. If Maureen doesn’t have a date, she locks herself in her room and plays her music with her earphones on while she does homework. Then she’s on the phone. I don’t see her from the time she finishes supper until the next morning when she grabs a granola bar on her way out to school,” Carla explained. “So I just slip down to my basement craft and sewing room, where a television is located for my soaps. I lock the door and party on. No one ever bothers me. We all have our little methods, because The Channel is addictive.”

“I wish they had it in the daytime,” Nora said.

Carla chortled. “Then we’d all be caught for sure. Imagine having to come home and fix dinner for a family of four after a day of you know what? Pirates, masseurs, sultans, and meat loaf. All those delicious men who spring out of our very active fantasies, and whose sole reason for being is to please us.”

“And meat loaf,” Nora added, grinning. Then she said, “I wonder why Rina and Joanne won’t say why they go to The Channel.”

“Joanne’s embarrassed,” Carla said. “I don’t understand it, but she is. But Rina, I think she maybe thinks it’s disloyal to Sam. After all he is a most attentive husband, and there is no doubt they love each other. But he is almost twenty years her senior. She’s his second wife, you know.”

“I didn’t,” Nora answered.

“Yeah, his first wife died. Cancer, I think,” Carla explained. “I think Rina feels as if she is betraying Sam, but she still goes to The Channel like the rest of us.”

The telephone rang, and Nora picked it up. “Jeff,” she said, and she made a face at Carla. Then she listened. “You’ll be home tonight? How nice. What would you like for dinner? Lamb chops. Alright. No problem, I haven’t shopped yet. You just caught me on the way out. Because I’ve had other things to do, that’s why.”

Carla gave Jeff the finger, and Nora almost laughed aloud.

“Yes, I’ll have dinner ready at seven the way you like it. Bye.” She set the phone down. “I am not in the mood for him. I really am not. I hope he’s not forgotten he’s coming Friday.”

“I’ve talked to Rick about your situation,” Carla said.

“I won’t do anything until Jeff does,” Nora told her friend.

“You ought to file first,” Carla said. “I mean the guy is hardly ever here, and hasn’t been for years. That ain’t a marriage, sweetie.”

“No, I’ll wait for him to make the first move,” Nora replied. “If I’m in the terrible position that you all think I am, it’s better if I’m the victim, isn’t it?”

“You’re not dumb,” Carla said. “But Nora, you’ve got to be protected. With everything in Jeff’s name, you really are in a lousy position.” Carla sounded genuinely worried.

“I know,” Nora agreed. “It’s beginning to dawn on me that I’ve been living in a world where nothing changes, and Jeff has been living in the real world, where dog eats dog.” She stood up, swaying slightly. “I better get down to Waldbaum’s, or there won’t be any food in this house tonight.”

“I’ll drive us,” Carla said. “I didn’t have the night you did, nor as much wine as you’ve been consuming with the sandwiches. You’ve almost killed a bottle,” she chuckled. “Never saw you do that before.” She pulled her own car keys from her jeans. “Come on, babe. I need stuff too, but it wouldn’t do for the mother of Egret Pointe High’s Athlete of the Year to get busted for DUI. My God, what a scandal that would be, especially with your pristine reputation.”

“The old me is gone,” Nora said. “The new me is just likely to cause a scandal,” she responded with a grin.

And then the two women left the house, walking out into the late May sunshine.

Chapter Three

“We have to talk,” Jeff Buckley said to his wife as they came into the house.

“Very well,” Nora replied. “Now is as good a time as any. J. J. is off partying with his friends, although I have told him he has to be home by midnight.” She walked through the front hall, and into the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat? I can fix you a sandwich. You didn’t arrive until just before the awards.”

“Yeah, I could use something,” Jeff said, and sat down. He was one of those men who just got better with age. He was tall and lean. There was hardly any gray in his dark hair, but his blue eyes were cold. They always had been.

Nora pulled out a loaf of fresh rye bread and smeared honey mustard on the two slices she cut, piling it high with Black Forest ham and tissue-thin Havarti cheese. Placing the sandwich on a plate, she cut it neatly in three slices, and plunked it down in front of her husband. Then she poured him a glass of iced tea, which she set on the table before him as she sat down. “Eat first, and then we’ll talk,” she said.

He nodded, biting off large chunks of the sandwich and chewing. “You always made a good sandwich,” he said, and then he swilled his tea.