Midsummer's Eve Page 2

  She listened patiently and then asked, “Do you have a picture of this man from Maine? Adam?”

  Okay! No comments from the peanut gallery. It was nothing more than an astoundingly lucky coincidence that I just so happened to carry a 4x5 glossy in my bag. “Yes. I believe I do.”

  She studied the photo of Adam and me smiling into the camera at Dolly Pardon’s Pirate’s Voyage and settled back in her chair. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and began her detailed prognostication.

  “Adam and Chia will be together for two months. She is starting to miss her children, but not enough to actually go home to them.”

  Two months! I was beginning to wonder if I could survive two more days without the man I had loved with every fiber of my being for the past three years. “With six kids even I might prolong my homecoming.”

  “At first she was so in love with Adam that, truthfully, she didn’t give her kids a second thought. She was too caught up in the secrecy of their illicit affair. The sneaking around and ever present fear of getting caught were thrilling to her. Now that the excitement of them living together is getting old, her guilt and regret are beginning to tug at her heart strings.”

  “What heart?”

  “It has even crossed her mind to try to convince her husband to allow her to come back home, but he’s finished with her. He has been living with her infidelity for years.”

  Come on Wang Chung! Have a little fun tonight. Take her back.

  “Adam has picked up the phone several times lately wanting to call you.”

  My heart began a clamorous clanging in my chest at her words. Taking a quick peek at my phone to make sure it hadn’t accidentally powered off, I sat straight up and fiddled with a basket of potpourri on the end table beside my chair. “Yeah! Right! And what stopped him?”

  “He didn't think you would talk to him.”

  Oh, Sweet Jesus! Just to hear his heavily accented Yankee voice. “He was right,” I lied in a feverish attempt to hide the desperation I was feeling. “I wouldn’t have talked to him then and I hope I never hear his voice again.” I prayed fervently that I wouldn’t get struck by lightening on the way out for allowing that whopper to fall from my lips!

  She covered her mouth with her hand in a failing attempt to hide a smile. Her brilliant green eyes nearly sparkled as she glanced at something in the area over my shoulder. Evidently, her clever spirit guide was bouncing with glee and mouthing the words, “She’s lying,” and giving Lady Wonder a clear vision of me bolting to the phone, stubbing my toe on a table leg, and sending whatnots flying in every direction as I snatched it up on the first ring. Damn! I should have remembered she was a freaking psychic!

  She recovered, brought her gaze back to me and said with all seriousness, “He will be calling you within three weeks.

  Stop the presses!

  “But be warned. This man will never stop cheating with other women. It’s in his blood. If you allow yourself to get involved with him again it will lead to a life of heartache. When he calls, do not answer. Ignore him. This is your year. Aside from the fact that you won’t have Adam, everything else in your life will improve. In fact, by midsummer, Eve, there will be so much happening in your life that you will rarely even give Adam a second thought.”

  Seriously? If she honestly believed there was even the most remote possibility of my life improving without Adam in it, then she, along with her inept spirit guide, might consider registering at the local community college for another semester of Remedial Fortune Telling. Adam might be able to switch his feelings on and off like a light bulb, but it wasn’t that easy for me. We were meant to be together! I have the wedding dress! I mean, come on. Adam and Eve? It’s biblical! If that isn’t a sign that we were meant to be together, please, tell me what is!

  Suddenly, I noticed an abrupt change in her demeanor, as she gathered my hands in hers. Hers were so warm and comforting, that I felt like I had known her for years. She closed her eyes for several seconds, then opened them, looking at me with such a depth of sadness that I wanted to cry. This couldn't be good.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I must tell you some bad news.”

  No shit! Imagine that! Certainly no beating around the bush with this woman! How bad could it be? I had no desire to find out! Nope! Time to go! I wasn’t going to wait around to hear any bad news. I didn’t have to hear it from a stranger. Hell, I lived it daily!

  Jerking my hands from hers, I braced them on the arms of the chair in preparation for a hasty departure. I shouldn’t have come here. She didn’t know anything about me, or my life. She was a quack. She was guessing. Plus, I wasn’t at all sure my fragile mental state could withstand more bad news.

  However, my traitorous legs refused to cooperate and lift me. It was almost like my body was forcing me to listen to her. I tried to speak, but couldn’t. Either she had put a spell on me, or I really didn’t want to leave without hearing what she had to say. I saw her getting ready to speak again. Don’t! Don’t! Hush! I wanted to cry out, but the words refused to leave my lips. Please! Whatever it is! Don't say it! Just let me return home unscathed!

  “Chia is pregnant!”

  Oh my God! That couldn’t be true. She was lying. I felt sick. Chia’s seventh child would belong to Adam? Surely her devious spirit guide was playing a horrible joke on me.

  I could see it now. I would be Christmas shopping and pass Adam, Chia, and their little bundle of joy in the infant section at Target. Adam would be tenderly cradling a tiny replica of himself in his arms, while gazing at the woman of his dreams with adoring eyes. What if I was in a restaurant and they were in the booth across from me holding hands, laughing at a private joke-- probably at how they had succeeded in duping my dumb ass-- and sipping a latte? We all lived in the same town. There would have to eventually be a chance meeting.

  “She doesn’t want the baby,” Lady Wonder announced abruptly. “She wants to have an abortion. She has no desire to be tied down with an infant again, now that her children are all in school.” She leaned back in her chair seemingly oblivious to the intensity of pain her words were causing me. “The thought of an abortion devastates Adam.”

  “He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, although I must be honest.”

  “Trust me, I don’t mind if you lie.”

  “Adam loves this woman more than he has ever loved anyone. He thinks that her having a baby will be a way to tie her to him forever. He knows what kind of woman she is and accepts it. He believes that her having his child will be a means to settle her down and convince her to accept his proposal of marriage."

  Proposal? Did she say proposal? “What makes him think one kid will tie her to him when her husband couldn’t keep her with six?” I sobbed, imagining Adam in labor and delivery with Chia as the irritating Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater nursery rhyme played over and over in my head.

  “He doesn’t care about any of that. He’s in love with her and love is blind.”

  “Will she marry him?" Tears of hurt, pain and betrayal coursed down my cheek.

  “Probably. However, it won’t be the happily ever after that Adam dreams about. By summer she will have met another man and fallen madly in love. Adam will be devastated.”

  Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!

  “He will feel like his life is over. He will be feeling exactly what you are feeling now, in fact, only worse. Always remember my dear, you reap what you sow.”

  “That’s what my mom always says.” I hiccupped, but the flow of tears had slowed just a bit. “Is she going to have an abortion?”

  “Yes. And that’s when Adam’s world will slowly begin to crumble. He’ll realize that if she loved him as he loved her she would want to have his baby. She wouldn’t be able to kill a part of him.” Then her face took on an irritated expression. “Do you know who he will turn to for comfort when this happens?”

  “Me?” Oh! If that could only be true, I would
straddle the bad breathed wonder on the way out and French kiss him for an hour!

  “Like I told you before, Adam will never change. He will always be a skirt chaser. A doctor might even diagnose him as having a condition known as Sexual Addiction.”

  Duh, Eve! Can you say Tiger Woods? How could I have been such an ignoramus? Tiger had admitted to seeking therapy in rehab for sexual addiction. In fact, I had often heard the term, but never had the common sense to apply it to Adam.

  As with most obsessive disorders there were probably medications to keep the powerful cravings of this addiction under control. I would go online the minute I got home and learn everything there was to know on the subject, and call a Help Line. It was all so crystal clear now! His cheating was an addiction. He couldn’t help it. Bless him. The poor man just needed someone to understand his sickness, and some counseling.

  The dreamy smile on my face must have been a dead giveaway that I was having a rare jubilant moment, because she swiftly wiped it from my face with her hateful words. “Adam’s ideal woman is Asian. He likes the different little things they do in the bedroom. He rarely finds an American woman sexually appealing.”

  Her I must be honest mantra was about to piss me off. Why couldn’t she let me savor even the tiniest bit of hope before she stomped on it and crushed it into the carpet? “Does Adam ever think about me?”

  “No.”

  Did she take pleasure in saying that word? Or had I only imagined it? Why did this woman dislike me so? Had she never heard of little white lies to protect the innocent? Couldn’t she see that I was close to slipping over the edge here? Maybe she needed to twist the knife a little deeper next time she plunged it through my liver?

  “He did the first couple of weeks after the breakup. Now you rarely ever cross his mind.” Then she stood up, signaling that our time was up.

  It looked like I might be getting the last laugh after all. For no matter how in love Adam was, just knowing that his little Chia Pet was going to break his cheating heart thrilled me to the very core. And spring was just around the corner. A few more weeks and he would be feeling the pain I was feeling now. Lady Wonder had said so herself. Pay back is a bitch.

  “Okay. That will be fifteen dollars.”

  I had expected the fee for her services to be substantially higher with the following she had. I did the math and decided $60.00 an hour wasn’t too shabby. Passing her a twenty I shook her hand as she said, “Come back whenever you need me.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Weaving my way through the crowded waiting room, I thought, please? Just throw your hand up and don't smile. Nope, the bad breathed wonder removed his toothpick, which was in dire need of a replacement, long enough to flash a negative wattage smile.

  I drove to the gas station, filled up the tank, and pulling back on the interstate, headed North instead of South. I was no longer feeling the drive to Georgia to visit my old college roommate. I just wanted to go home and wallow in my misery in private.

  Two

  The next morning as I dutifully tried to work up the energy to get dressed and go to work, one question kept playing over and over in my mind. “What does Adam’s newest strumpet see in him anyway?” I will be fifty in a few months, so my choices are limited at best. She, on the other hand, is young, and as painful as it is to admit, breathtakingly beautiful. Which leads me to beg the question of what a 35-year-old bombshell could possibly want with a 47-year-old playboy? Nope, no money in his bank account. That’s not it. It surely isn’t the sex. I’ll be honest with you. I’m stumped. However I’m guessing a substance abuse problem, mental health issue, or the girl is just dumb as a plow horse. Then why am I so crazy in love with the man you ask? Try as I might I cannot answer that question. It’s a certifiable case of love being both blind and stupid!

  Oh well, what’s done is done. Dragging myself off the couch, I padded into the kitchen for a cup of Maxwell House with a healthy dose of Coffeemate Liquid French Vanilla Creamer. Screw the diet I struggle desperately to adhere to every single day of my life. I grabbed three, fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts from a box-- a neighborhood Girl Scout had gone door to door yesterday selling them for some fundraiser -- and enjoyed them with my coffee. I couldn’t think of a living soul who really cared if my weight fluctuated by ten or fifty pounds, so why suffer needlessly? Dang, they were good! I grabbed three more without feeling one iota of guilt. Seconds later, I was stuffed and feeling the effects of a sugar high, so I went back to bed and crawled under the covers, wondering if maybe I was clinically depressed.

  How do you cope when you learn that the man you love and plan to spend your twilight years in a rocker on the front porch clipping coupons from the Sunday edition of the Charlotte Observer is cheating on you? And has been for some time, evidently. You don’t. Or I don't. Oh, but some women do.

  We all know at least one of these light-hearted vixens, blessed with the astounding ability to steer their shattered lives back on course and continue joyously barhopping and man hunting for their next soul mate. Apparently, I had misplaced my instruction manual on rapid recovery from gut wrenching betrayal.

  As if Adam’s being unfaithful wasn’t torment enough my rapidly-deflating ego had to be notified of the fact that he was cheating with an Asian woman. Here’s the kicker! A philandering Asian seductress who appeared to in her mid thirties! Lord knows anyone who had the chance to witness her stunning beauty first hand had then felt the driving compulsion to enlighten me.

  Now I didn’t just fall off the back of a cantaloupe truck, and I’m fully aware that when some men hit the dreaded midlife crisis, their fantasies tend to lean toward the occasional dalliance with a wrinkle free, young, ghetto booty bimbo. Nevertheless, I had deluded myself into thinking my man was different. He loved me! With a passion very rarely found in men! And would continue to do so until he drew his last breath! Whew boy! Talk about your vast stupidity!

  When I discovered the cold brutal facts about Adam’s secret life, it had been comparable to drawing the Tower card in the Tarot deck. My blissful little world came crashing down with the intensity of one of the devastating hurricanes that are happening way too frequently around this old world of ours.

  I couldn’t eat, sleep, or think about anything other than him. Day and night I issued telepathic messages toward the quiet phone willing it to ring. I kept praying that he would, in a rare moment of clarity, realize that I was the very reason for his miserable existence. That he couldn’t possibly imagine living one day of his desolate life without me in it.

  Trust me, his desolation never skipped a beat. Instead, it was I who was forced to come to a sudden blinding realization that his head was too filled with thoughts of her to even allow a fleeting memory of me to squeeze into the already too small space. And Lord knows all illusions were shattered for real. With lightening speed! Into a billion pieces! The day I saw her!

  The date will go down in heartbreak infamy. December 21, 2011.

  I had been busily cleaning house that morning and listening to Adele belt out Rolling in the Deep, when the sudden urge hit to ride by Adam’s house. Just out of the blue. It was a feeling I found impossible to shake. I threw myself into scrubbing the kitchen floor, the bathtub, and the toilets, but it proved to be a powerful, unrelenting urge.

  At any rate, my insight showed no sign of budging an inch until it had gained control of my entire thought process. So I gave in to the premonition and nervously hopped in my Jeep. Oh, you can believe I prayed a most fervent prayer during the five‑minute ride to his house that he would be alone. As my luck would have it, it proved to be one of those iffy requests that God sometimes chooses to give considerable debate to because the absolute love of my life wasn't alone. Nope! There was a vehicle parked beside of his. An older model red SUV of some sort with most of its paint having peeled away years ago and with the additional selling feature of having a missing rear bumper.

  Now I realize that some folk’s circumstances are simply beyond t
heir control, especially in this economy, and I pray that God delivers a special blessing to each and every one of them. But come on! The vehicle had a sheet of cardboard from a Charmin bathroom tissue box substituting for the passenger door window! Other than being tacky as all hell, what on earth did the driver do at crossroads?

  Oh well. This leads me to say one thing about Adam, which may or may not be construed as a compliment. Class or no class, there wasn’t a willing female alive who couldn’t appear beneath him.

  Even if it was another woman, the thought of her riding around in such a hideous vehicle gave me some slight satisfaction. My rationalization was that if her car was a rusty antiquated relic without a semblance of cuteness - quite ugly actually- then she probably was as well.

  I know. Trust me, I know. I should probably take a few minutes to schedule that appointment with a therapist as my frequently incompetent mind, compared to that of the average middle‑aged female, sometimes takes solitary flight into the hinterland.

  On the other hand, it would seem that Adam had already made his appointment with the driver of the aforementioned hideous vehicle. I knew it was another woman. I felt it in the pit of my shattered soul. I knew it as well as I knew my suddenly trembling body would require the drawing of another shaky breath, that the sun would rise and set tomorrow, and that the Republicans and Democrats would promise to run this country in a bi-partisan fashion and fail miserably.

  Against my better judgment, because admittedly my volatile temper has an extremely short fuse when it concerns the other woman, I pulled into his driveway and proceeded to pound on the front door. His bedroom is the first door to the right when you enter his house. So even standing outside the door, I heard his feet hit the floor with a heavy thud from the general vicinity of his bedroom. This most definitely was not a promising sign. It pretty much confirmed my suspicions that his visitor was not of the male persuasion.