Chapter Thirty-one: Good Wine and Bad Meds

I heard Jim rattling around the kitchen around seven. I got up and splashed my face with cold water. When I joined Jim in the kitchen, he immediately handed me a glass of chilled white wine. He was roasting Cornish game hens, cooking wild rice, and baking a mélange of zucchini, onions, garlic, and olive oil. I took my usual seat at the kitchen table, and he handed me some sliced peppers and hummus for an appetizer.

He gestured to my Elvis Costello t-shirt and smiled. "Cool shirt."

"Thanks." I twisted my wine glass and stared at my hands, deliberating about what to say. Finally, I began. "Jim, David Mebane has invited me to a play in New York. Next Saturday."

Jim hesitated in his dinner preparations. "You're going to New York with Ph.D. guy? To see a play?"

"I was thinking about it," I answered.

"Wasn't he trying to steal your writing program?"

"He wasn't behaving exactly ethically. You are correct."

"But you want to go off to New York with him?" Jim asked, still showing little comprehension.

"He has two tickets to the Tom Stoppard play. I've been working on a series of articles on Stoppard for my independent study this summer, so seeing the play would be a great help as well as being a hell of a lot of fun."

"House would say Ph.D. guy has only invited you because he wants to get you naked."

I threw a slice of pepper at Jim. "Blue Eyes isn't here, so he certainly doesn't get to have any input in this conversation."

"Would you like for him to be here?"

I answered, "I'd like for him to be a normal human being instead of a royal jackass, but that's not going to happen, either."

"Then tell me this: would you be going to the play because you wanted to enjoy it with Ph.D. guy, or because you wanted House to be jealous?"

I put my forehead down on the table. I sighed. "It doesn't appear to me he'll have any knowledge of anything I do. He seems to no longer be talking to me."

"Why don't you call him?"

Jim's suggestion galvanized me. I checked my watch as I moved out of my chair. "I'll be right back – don't hold the food."

"Where are you going?" Jim asked as I grabbed my coat.

I opened the front door, hoping the convertible's keys were in it, and said, "I'm going to see Blue Eyes."

As I closed the door behind me, I heard objections from Jim. The keys were, indeed, in the Mercedes, so I took off for Blue Eyes' apartment in my deceased mother's car.

I pounded on his apartment door. I could hear a shuffling and a muffled, "I'm coming." When he opened the door, he was wearing a pressed, button-down, pale pink shirt and his better pair of jeans. His eyes grew round as he recognized me.

"Ummm," he stammered, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, move," I ordered as I shoved my way past him. A bottle of red wine, opened, graced the coffee table next to a plate of hors d'oeuvres and a very elegant pair of wine glasses. "Oh, shit! She's coming over, isn't she?" I turned and stared into his startled, sky-blue eyes.

"Who? What? Why are you here?" he stuttered.

I flapped my arms in agitation. "You're waiting on Succubus, aren't you? Even though you know you won't be able to make it work with her, and even though you know you'd rather be with me, you're still going to see her." I charged him, then, and he backed up until he slammed into his piano, leaving him nowhere else to go. I was so close we were almost touching. Very quietly, I said, "Maybe I have no right to expect anything from you, but you are being unfair to Stacy if you allow her to think you can care about her the way she cares about you. Or the way you care about me."

"The way I care about you?" he responded. "And just what way would that be?"

I snapped, "Don't be cute."

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a shy smile. "Can't help it, Tiger."

I made the initial movement to slap him, but he caught my wrist in his large hand and used it to pull me up to receive his kiss. And his kiss was far from tender; his lips assaulted mine, attacking and devouring. I tried to back up, but his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me up against him. I lifted my right leg and slammed my foot down, hard, into the instep of his good leg. He yowled, letting go of me, and reached for his injured foot. I stepped back.

"We're not going to get angry with each other and then just solve it by falling into bed together. Not this damn time. And I'm insulted you would even try that," I lectured him angrily.

The sound of slow, rhythmic clapping pulled our attention away from each other and to the open door. Blue Eyes looked up, and I wheeled around to see Stacy, perfectly composed, in the doorway.

"Oh, fuck," Blue Eyes muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

Stacy said, as she walked towards us with perfectly placed steps, "What a charming picture you two make. Tell me, Greg, did you invite me just so I could catch your peep show? If so, you made a mistake. I was never interested in competing for you."

"I'll just go now," I uttered in a quiet monotone, but Blue Eyes grabbed my arm and held me in place.

He answered her, "I had no idea Tiger was going to show up. It was neither planned nor anticipated. Does that help, Stacy?"

She shook her perfectly formed head. "Not really, Greg. Were you serious about our trying to get back together, or was that just something you said to get me into bed?"

"Oh, great," I groused. "You fight with me to have sex, but you dress up and ply her with wine and food for sex. I'm getting the short end of the stick."

"Shut up," Blue Eyes growled at me. He took a hobbled step towards Stacy. "In the first place, I didn't invite you here with the sole purpose of having sex with you. Although, if that had happened . . ."

Stacy's dark eyes flashed in a perfect spark of anger. "It really doesn't matter why you invited me here. I'll be dammed if I'll stay while you and your, your, concubine sort through your mating rituals."

"Concubine?" I sputtered. "Is she calling me a . . . Are you calling me a concubine? Because, if you are, you should know I know what that means." I turned to Blue Eyes. "Are you gonna let your crazy ex call me that?"

Stacy, emitting an exasperated yelp, turned and stomped, perfectly, out the door.

"Oh, hell," Blue Eyes said as he limped to the couch and slumped onto it. "What is wrong with you? Do you have to fuck everything up?"

"What is wrong with me? You're the one who can't get his priorities straight." I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to go to New York with David, but now, after this debacle, I think I'll accept his invitation."

He looked up at me disgustedly. "You're going to New York with that lying Ph.D. guy? Do you think you're going to make me jealous with that idiot?"

"No. But maybe, just maybe, if I can enjoy myself with someone besides you, it won't hurt so much when you behave like a cocksucker." I turned, grabbed the bottle of wine and the two glasses, and headed for my car.

Jim was in the den, nervously flipping television channels, when I flew into the kitchen. I poured the pilfered wine into the two pilfered glasses and took them to join him. "You want one of these?" I asked irritatedly.

He took a glass and asked, "You had a run-in with Stacy, didn't you?"

"You knew she would be there? And you didn't tell me?"

He shook his head as he drank his wine. "I knew House had invited her over to talk. And, for the record, I tried to stop you."

I guzzled half my wine, which was a waste of a very good vintage. "He doesn't really want her. I know he doesn't."

"House is incapable of allowing anything to progress smoothly. He always needs to ruin a good thing. You need to persevere and wait him out. I think he'll realize how he feels about you in time."

"Well, just bless his heart," I responded. "Jim, you don't honestly expect me to feel sorry for the bastard just because the woman of his dreams had his thigh muscle removed while he was in a coma, do you? That deal was done years ago. They've tried twice, if I understand all I've heard, to reunite, but he's backed out both times. It's time for him to grow up and move forward." I finished the wine in my glass and brought in the bottle from the kitchen. I poured some for both of us before continuing. "But, Jim, if he is such a damn baby he has to keep running back to mama Stacy, then maybe she's exactly who he deserves, and I'm too fucking good for him."

Jim said, "Did you tell him this?"

"I told him all he needed to know," I answered.

Jim went to the kitchen where he opened another bottle of red wine and brought it into the den. He had left the television on a repeat of America's Next Top Model.

"Jim, I was just outclassed by Succubus, and now you have me watching a bunch of model-wannabes. Are you trying to persuade me to commit suicide?"

He chuckled as he poured more wine into our glasses. "What makes you so sure Stacy outclassed you?"

"As soon as I left, I'm sure Blue Eyes called her and convinced her to return."

He leaned forward. "Wanna put some money on it?"

I laughed. "A bet? Yeah – twenty bucks says he got her back. You going to find out tomorrow?"

Jim pulled out his cell phone as he answered, "Nope. I'll find out now." He punched in Blue Eyes' number. "House . . . What, am I disturbing something?" He drank more wine as he listened. "Audra came in earlier and locked herself in her bedroom. She didn't say a word about anything. What happened?" Jim winked at me. "Oh, hell, no. She didn't . . . Wine glasses? . . . What are you going to do about Stacy?" As he listened to Blue Eyes' answer, he extended his hand, palm upturned, and wiggled his fingers. I groaned and grabbed my purse. "Maybe you need to rethink your game plan. Audra is a good match for you." I put my twenty in his palm, which he then slipped into his pocket. "Okay, okay. No need to get so cranky. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Nite, House." He closed his phone.

"But he did call her, didn't he?" I asked.

He stretched and answered me slowly. "Nope. He said he wasn't sure who he was less pissed at, you or Stacy, so he decided to drink some scotch and play the piano. You know how he decompresses."

"Are you serious? He didn't call her?"

"He didn't call her."

"Jim, I told him I was going to New York with David," I confessed.

He opened his mouth. "Oh, hell. I bet that wasn't pretty."

"Another bet?" I teased. "He was mad I'd try to make him jealous with David."

"So, are you going to actually go through with the trip?"

I mused, "Yeah, Jim, I think I am. I think I need a different perspective. Maybe David is the person to give that to me."

"Listen, Audra," he began, "if you're really giving up on House . . ."

"Yes?" I asked.

He shook his head and drained his glass. "No. Never mind. I don't know what I was thinking."

I stood up to go to bed. "I know what you were thinking, Jim." I winked at him as I walked by.

I headed to the hospital the next morning before Jim was up. Zelda was still thriving. I wiggled her into one of the onesies Blue Eyes had bought her – "Poop is a Palindrome" – and settled her back in her crib. She was nearing four pounds now and looking less fragile. I hurried to the university; I had three lectures that morning to sociology and psychology classes. I didn't even unlock my office door until noon.

"What can I get you for lunch?" Troy promptly asked me as I slumped into my desk chair.

"Egg salad?"

"Okay," Troy answered and scurried out.

Cindy entered with a handful of phone messages. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but that Dr. Mebane has called for you every hour. I wasn't sure what to tell him . . ." she trailed off.

"I'll call him back. Thanks, Cindy."

I took a deep breath before dialing David. "David, this is Audra."

"Audra, I'm just stepping out for a lunch meeting. But I'm glad you called," he answered, sounding flustered.

I spoke rapidly. "I won't keep you. I just wanted to tell you I'd love to go to the play with you next weekend. That is, if the invitation is still open?"

"Oh, great. Wonderful. I need to run – maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow?"

I felt guilty, as if I were betraying Blue Eyes. "Just call me, David. Right now I have nothing planned for tomorrow. Bye."

I put my head in my hands. A weekend ahead without Blue Eyes. I felt tortured. Troy brought me a sandwich; I ate while I checked our posted lessons and read research on Tom Stoppard for my summer independent study. I wondered what plans Jim would have on a Friday evening, so I finally called him.

"Jim, I hope I'm not catching you busy," I began when he answered.

I could hear him sigh. "I always have time for you. What's up?"

"It's a Friday night; I thought you might have plans. And if you don't, I was going to suggest we order pizza. I'll even pick up the beer on my way home."

Jim hesitated before he responded. "I just accepted an invitation out. For dinner. I'm sorry, Audra."

"Blue Eyes?"

"Audra . . ."

"Okay. Have a good evening." I hung up. I had the hospital and Zelda for company, but it wouldn't be much of a distraction. I stared at the phone, willing it to spontaneously combust. I was jealous. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. I didn't want Jim and Blue Eyes both having plans while I was at home alone. And I especially didn't like the idea of them being together. Without me. Oh, shit.

I sent my employees home and headed for my favorite deli. I ordered a huge lamb gyro with tzatziki sauce, an order of tabouleh, and a six-pack of Mythos lager to go. The townhouse was dark and unfriendly as I carried my food inside. I put on my stretched-out sweatpants and a Graceland t-shirt, then sifted through the DVDs in the house, finally selecting episodes of the British sitcom, Butterflies, for my evening. I gorged and laughed and cried. I kept my cell phone on my leg so I would know if it rang. It didn't. Finally, around eleven, I took the Ambien Dr. Castillo had prescribed for sleep. I reminded myself to call the therapist for an appointment on Monday. I fell asleep not knowing when Jim got back.

I slept soundly and late, thanks to the Ambien. I could hear Jim singing as he puttered in the kitchen, and I could smell brewed coffee. I pulled my sweatpants over my panties and slipped my Auburn sweatshirt over the camisole I had slept in. I didn't even brush my teeth; I hurried to the kitchen for coffee.

Jim grinned evilly at me as he poured my coffee. "I'm cooking macadamia nut pancakes and bacon. I hope you're hungry, Tiger."

I shot Jim a curious look. "Tiger?"

"Last night, when we had our nightcap, you told me I could use House's nickname for you."

I was almost speechless. "We had a drink together last night? When?"

Jim was, then, almost speechless. "You don't remember?"

I carried my coffee to my spot at the table. "I took my Ambien around eleven and went to bed. When did we have this rendezvous?"

"I got in around midnight. You stumbled in from your bedroom and insisted we chat. We each had a snifter of brandy and, well, chatted."

I reached, instinctively, for my chest. "What was I wearing?"

Jim's evil grin quadrupled in wattage.

"Jim, what was I wearing?" I repeated in a much higher octave.

He concentrated on flipping pancakes as he answered. "You had on some baggy, pregnancy panties and a pale green camisole. You really need to buy new, um, underwear." He chuckled naughtily.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed. I covered my face with my hands. "What the hell did I say?"

"We discussed my evening with House," Jim answered as he handed me a plate of food I no longer felt the slightest urge to eat. "Dr. Castillo did tell you somnambulism is a possible side effect of Ambien?"

I groaned. "You know I never read the reams of information that came with all of that medicine. I am such an idiot."

"Don't feel too badly. You didn't say anything too embarrassing, and seeing you practically naked was a joy for me."

"I didn't make an effort to cover up?" I asked somewhat incredulously.

Jim gave his naughty laugh again. "Not at all. Nope. Not at all."

"What have I done?" I whispered.

"Audra," Jim said, sitting across from me with his pancakes, which he had no difficulty cutting into. "I told you House and I spent the evening at a hockey game – Princeton versus Rutgers – and then at his place eating bad Thai takeout."

"Where were we when we had this, this, conversation?"

Jim actually giggled. "You insisted we sit on the den floor. You were demonstrating your ability to sit cross-legged, Indian-style."

I laid my head on the table. I must have made a pretty sight, everything on display, in my granny panties. Why didn't the earth open up and swallow me whole? Suddenly, I raised my head. "Jim, you mustn't tell Blue Eyes."

"I'm afraid it's too late to keep it a secret. You called him while we were chatting and described the entire scenario to him."

I screamed, "I what? Oh, hell. What was his response?"

"I don't think he liked the idea of the two of us, you in your undies and me in nothing but my boxers."

"You only had on boxers? Go ahead, kill me now."

"You were charming, Audra. Really. And if House is bothered, then he can do something about it."

"Jim," I said, raising my head slightly, "you didn't engineer this to make Blue Eyes jealous, did you?"

He averted his eyes. "I enjoyed flirting with you, Audra. I know you're not interested in me as anything more than a friend, a good friend, but I'm not too proud to admit I was flattered and attracted. House can deal with that any way he wants."

"Oh, Jim. Darling Jim. I haven't done anything to mislead you or hurt you, have I?" I asked with genuine concern.

"I'm a big boy, Audra. I know where your heart lies. However, if you decide to prance around in a near-naked fashion again, don't expect me not to enjoy the view."