Chapter 6

Carolyn tried on the bikini she had bought the week they moved into the house. Frivolous, Paul had termed the two pieces of fabric, a bright green floral pattern she thought reflected the fresh daring newness of California. She had intended to buy one more pleasing to him but then procrastinated, the experience of their first night increasing her aversion to the pool. Every weekend after that first night, and often during the week, he had coaxed her until she donned the bikini and climbed gingerly down the masonry steps at the shallow end to splash without pleasure while he leaped off the diving board and thrashed about as if his alacrity could instill enthusiasm in her. Inevitably her passivity affected him; she was finally able to bury the bikini in a drawer, confident she would rarely have to exhume it. Only once, during a Sunday afternoon barbecue for his staff, had he asked her to wear it, his purpose transparent: to show off his young wife to the men he worked with.

Her thoughts turned to Val Hunter. Masculine, Paul would call her; one of those dykey women spawned by the women’s movement. But, she reflected, sexual preference was pretty clear here, wasn’t it? Even if Val Hunter wasn’t with anyone now, she had married not once but twice and had a son. And she, Carolyn Blake, was longtime married. And anyway, there wasn’t the slightest hint of sexual interest from Val Hunter and you could always tell, couldn’t you?

The bikini fit perfectly, and she felt reassured. She put the bikini back in the drawer.

Such an unusual woman, she thought enviously. Yes, there was that height and the problems Val Hunter had spoken of, but such bearing she had, such carelessness about her clothes, how she walked, how or even where she sat. Utter indifference about her appearance—not a trace of makeup, her hair scarcely combed…Bold opinions, easily and confidently given…

Again there was the elusive memory pulling at the edges of her mind, the image of Val Hunter somehow beckoning to her past. Tantalized, Carolyn struggled fruitlessly to remember.

She leaned down to kiss Paul good night, pressing her lips to his forehead. He shifted in his armchair, glanced at his watch. “So soon?”

She eased herself into his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. “It’s just an hour before you come to bed too, honey. Just an hour. I never go sound asleep, you know that. Wake me up.” Kittenish and flirtatious, she stroked his hair and breathed into his ear. “You’ve done it often enough in eight years.”

His eyes looked intently, soberly, unyieldingly into hers. “I love you,” he said. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

“And I love you, Paul darling. Give this a chance,” she pleaded. “Just a chance to see if we can…adjust. Please?”

His mouth was tender on hers, his hands gentle around her waist. “You think about it too,” he said. “Think about whether this is really what you want.”

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 690