The Girls Of Mischief Bay

Her friend shrugged. “After thirty years of marriage, a little unpredictability would be nice.”

“Is everything okay?” Nicole asked. Because selfishly, she needed Pam’s marriage to be better than her own. Somehow knowing Pam was okay gave her a safe place to be.

“We’re fine,” Pam assured her. “It’s just…” She drew in a breath. “I’m fifty.”

Nicole waited for the revelation. When Pam didn’t say anything else, she searched for some kind of meaning. “I was at your birthday party last fall. You’ve been fifty for a while.”

“I know, but I didn’t feel it before.” She waved her hand. “You’re thirty and gorgeous and you won’t understand, but trust me. One day you’re going to look in the mirror and wonder what happened. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my life. I get the blessings. My kids are still talking to us and coming over to dinner every Sunday. They’re happy. John and I are healthy and I’m pleased to see him at the end of the day. It’s just I didn’t think it would happen so fast. Me getting old.”

“Pam, you’re not old. You’re fantastic. You’re one of my best students. You can keep up with anyone. You’re in terrific shape.”

“You haven’t seen me naked,” Pam muttered. “It’s nothing like what it used to be.”

Lulu wandered into the office. Pam bent down and picked her up, then petted her.

“All I can tell you is pay attention to what you’re doing, because you’re going to blink and it’s going to have been twenty years.”

Nicole wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but she nodded, anyway. “I can see that with Tyler. He’s growing so fast. He still thinks watching my old performances is great fun. In a few years he’ll pretend he doesn’t know me.”

“They do go through that stage.” Pam cradled Lulu in her arms. “I’m glad you had all those tapes put onto DVD. You’ll always have them.”

“They’re not all that great to watch.”

“To you, maybe. I’ve only seen a couple, but they were beautiful. You’re a talented dancer.”

A few months ago talk during class had turned to her former dancing career, such as it was. Pam and Shannon had insisted on seeing proof of her claims to have danced professionally and she’d brought in a DVD.

After graduating from ASU, she’d done what every other self-respecting dancer did. She’d headed for New York. Armed with determination, a lifetime of her mother telling her that she had to be a star and recommendations and introductions from her instructors, she’d started the arduous process of going to auditions.

It had taken two brutal winters for her to realize that she simply wasn’t Broadway material. Or off-Broadway. She managed to get hired for two different Rockette shows and had danced for free for a few small productions that no one had seen. But she hadn’t had whatever it was that got dancers noticed. At the end of those two years she’d returned to LA, where at least she could be poor and hungry in a sixty-degree winter.

She’d been down to her never-to-be-touched emergency five hundred dollars. It was all that stood between her and finding a bed at a shelter. A sign outside of Mischief in Motion had said the owner was looking for someone to teach a dance-based exercise class. She’d been desperate enough to try.

Nicole had found that she liked the work. Over the next couple of years, she’d gotten certified in several kinds of fitness instruction, including Pilates. Now six years later, she owned the studio. So at least that part of her life was doing well. And she had Tyler. As for her marriage, well, maybe that was a problem for another day.

“I like what I do now,” Nicole said, knowing that she had been luckier than most. “I just need to get better at juggling.”

“Balance is never easy. I’m not sure it’s possible.” Pam rose, Lulu still in her arms. “Trust me. I think it’s like those fake holidays created by the greeting card industry. We pay attention to different things at different times in our lives. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we don’t.”

“Always with the wisdom,” Nicole teased. “Can I be you when I grow up?”

Pam smiled. “You’re already grown-up. See? Everything happens when we’re not paying attention.”

Six (#ulink_e1c24ecc-518b-5242-be02-d8ecf34591a6)

“I never get tired of that DVD,” John said as he turned off the TV.

“It’s a good one,” Pam agreed.

They’d just watched The Bourne Identity for maybe the four hundredth time. She didn’t mind the movie repeats. It gave her a chance to catch up on her magazine browsing. John didn’t require her to pay attention so much as he liked her to be in the room.

She set her unread magazine back in the basket by her side of the sofa. The ones she’d gotten through would go into recycling. Lulu, curled up in her bed on the other end of the sofa, raised her head, as if asking if it was time.

“Ten o’clock, baby girl.”

Lulu stood and stretched. Ten o’clock was the phrase that meant “last time to pee before morning” or however the dog translated it in her head.

John got out of his recliner—because yes, they were that couple. The ones with a recliner in the family room. At least they weren’t at the stage of having two recliners. John had suggested it, but Pam knew she wasn’t ready. She was sure the time would come, but not today.

“You going to take her out?” he asked, which he did every night.

Pam wanted to ask when he let the dog out. Not that he wouldn’t if she asked. But the routine was him asking and her doing it.

How did things like that happen? she wondered. How did people get stuck in ruts? It must be part of the human condition—a need to not think about everything, maybe. So the brain found routines and being in a routine was oddly comfortable. Until it became a rut, at which point it wasn’t comfortable anymore.

Pam smiled at her husband. It wasn’t his fault she was thinking too much these days. “I’ll take her out.”

John nodded and walked past her. As he did, he paused to lightly pat her butt.

She would guess he didn’t even know he was doing it. That if she mentioned it, he would look at her blankly. Which was so like him, and mostly endearing. It was yet another routine. A signal that the outside observer would never catch, but that a wife of thirty years knew intimately.

Later, when he finished in the bathroom, he would look at her expectantly. The question would hang in the air until she nodded and said something along the lines of “I’d like to.” Because the butt pat was John’s signal that he was interested in sex that night.

Pam and Lulu walked to the back door. She opened it for her little dog, then waited while Lulu took care of business. They walked back to the bedroom.

When Steven had moved out, they’d done a remodel of the rear of the house. They’d expanded the master and added a second bathroom, while redoing the first. They’d also enlarged the closet. Pam didn’t mind sharing any part of her life, but she’d always wanted a completely girly bathroom and a few years ago, she’d gotten it.

There was a huge shower with a built-in bench so she could shave her legs easily. She had an oversize tub, a single sink with long countertops on both sides and as much storage as the makeup department at Macy’s.

John’s bathroom suited his needs, as well. There was a TV so he wouldn’t miss any part of a game if he had to pee, a steam shower and a vanity that was several inches higher than usual.

Now she went into the closet and pulled out the drawer designated for Lulu’s pj stash. The little dog had already gone over to the bed and used the pet stairs to make it onto the high mattress. Pam selected a soft T-shirt—pink, of course.

“All right, little girl,” she said softly as she sat on the bed.

Lulu dropped her head as Pam removed the light sweater. The garment slid off easily. Then Pam held out the T-shirt. Lulu stuck her head through the opening and raised her left front leg to step into the arm hole. She always tried to do the right one, too, but usually missed. Pam got her shirt on. Lulu went up to the decorative pillows on the bed and burrowed in behind them, where she would stay until the humans got into bed.

Pam retreated to her bathroom where she removed her makeup, applied three kinds of serums and creams, then brushed her teeth. As she performed the familiar rituals, she tried to think sexy thoughts to get herself into the mood. But she couldn’t seem to summon any energy about it.

Sex with John was fine, but it wasn’t exciting anymore. She remembered how it had been at the beginning. The thrill of seeing him naked. The constant need to make love. How every touch had been arousing. Time and familiarity made that difficult to maintain. Add to that three kids and busy lives and it just wasn’t the same.

But she loved him and wanted him to know that. While the words were always welcome, he also needed her to desire him. Something she’d figured out the second decade of their marriage when she’d been caught up in the exhaustion that came from having three active kids in the house.

She slipped on her nightgown and returned to the bedroom.

John was already there, sitting up, reading. He wore reading glasses—something that he’d resisted until any kind of printed material had become impossible. Lulu was on his lap. When she spotted Pam, she jumped up and came over to her side.

She put the dog in her bed in the corner. John put down his glasses and e-reader, then flipped back the covers and patted the mattress invitingly.