Happy b-day Hannah
The sentiment made Kim’s stomach twist again. Tony didn’t know Hannah, had no place wishing her a happy birthday. She had not invited him into her personal universe, had not introduced him to her husband and kids. Did Tony really expect Kim to give his regards to her daughter, like some friendly fake uncle? It would have been inappropriate . . . and kind of creepy.
Tony and Kim met twice a month, legitimately, and had recently doubled that as their undefined connection grew. The nature of their relationship remained nebulous: there had been nothing lurid or inappropriate in their communications; a benign, teasing sort of flirtation (again, reminiscent of eighth graders) being the most incriminating aspect. When they met in person, physical contact was limited to a brief hug hello followed by a hand on a shoulder, or a playful punch in the arm as they shared a joke. It was a forced casualness, like two platonic pals, two college buddies, a brother and sister. . . . The only thing lewd about their relationship was the way Kim’s heart would race when she heard his voice, received his messages, or spoke his name; how her cheeks and groin would burn with pleasant heat.
She could only assume Tony felt the same way, though at times, his actions gave her pause. Like wishing Hannah a happy birthday. In that three-word expression, he was acknowledging that Kim was a mother, a wife, a woman with a fully domesticated life outside of their relationship. She knew Tony had such a life, too, but she didn’t like to think about it. She didn’t want to know his kids’ names (Declan and Ruby). She didn’t want to know that his wife (Amanda) was a successful attorney who worked long hours, leaving Tony to pick up the kids from school, drive them to their extracurriculars, and cook dinner most nights—all while juggling his freelance design assignments. Kim preferred to think of Tony as an island.
Another message arrived from him.
Having a party?
A few girls for pizza and cake
Pizza and cake--LOL
???
They’re 16. They’ll sneak booze or boys in
This annoyed Kim. Tony didn’t know Hannah. He wasn’t qualified to lump her in with all the wanton sixteen-year-olds he saw in the media, caught taking pills, having babies in bathroom stalls, or drifting over the center line in her mom’s station wagon and killing a family in a minivan. Kim took her job as a mother very seriously, and her children were evidence of that. She read parenting books. She attended workshops put on by the PTA. She knew the delicate balance between implementing boundaries and allowing children to spread their wings, between setting expectations and applying too much pressure. And she talked to her kids. She and Hannah had discussed all manner of teenaged transgressions, from cutting and marijuana to eating disorders and ecstasy. They had definitely discussed the dangers of binge drinking. (Fortuitously, her nephew in Oregon had gotten so drunk at a party that he’d pissed himself in front of his friends and had to spend a night in the hospital hooked up to an IV.) Obviously, she’d told Hannah that her sixteenth would be alcohol-free. Hannah had rolled her eyes—“Of course, Mom”—because she didn’t drink anyway. Maybe Declan and Ruby would be typical rowdy teens, drinking and smoking and generally rebelling against a workaholic mother and a father who pretended to be designing flyers when he was really messaging with his female copywriter. But Kim’s kids wouldn’t. She was doing her job right. She typed:
GTG
Her irritation still simmering under the surface, she deleted the conversation and headed back to the kitchen. She found Tony attractive, charming, amusing . . . and his interest in her was flattering, particularly in light of her husband’s lack of it. But Tony’s comment reminded her that they really didn’t know each other. They’d been working together for almost six months, but they’d never had a meaningful conversation about issues or values. They talked about work or they flirted like adolescents. She’d just signed off with GTG like some infatuated teenager too lazy to type Got to go. What was wrong with her?
When she entered the kitchen, Jeff didn’t look up from his screen. “Done already?”
“There wasn’t much left to do.” She made her way to the coffeemaker. “You left the empty pot on the burner.”
“You said you didn’t want any more.”
“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I want the coffeepot to crack. Or the house to burn down.”
He looked away from his computer directly at her. “Why are you so crabby?”
“I’m not,” she barked, belying her words. “I’m going to take a shower.” She headed for the open staircase that led to the master suite.
“Do you need help getting ready for the party?”
She turned back, softening at the offer. It was a rare overture from Jeff, and it reminded her that they were still a team. No matter how far apart they drifted, no matter how much he had hurt her, they were stuck in this family together. She looked at his sandy hair, mussed from sleep, at his stubbly face, still boyish despite his forty-eight years. Deep inside, Kim harbored a tiny kernel of hope that what they once had was salvageable. She suddenly regretted the ten minutes she’d spent secluded in her office with another man’s messages.
“I promised Hannah I’d get her a flourless chocolate cake from that bakery on Cesar Chavez. We could walk there? I think the sun’s trying to come out.”
“Except I’m going for a swim and a run with Graham.”
Her jaw clenched. “Forget it then.”
His words followed her ascension up the stairs. “What? The triathlon’s in August!”
BY 10:40 A.M., Kim’s Audi wagon was chock-full of trans fat–free snack foods, diet sodas, veggie platters, and three bunches of fresh tulips in Hannah’s favorite color, purple. Nestled in her Gucci purse was the rectangular box housing the tennis bracelet she and Jeff had decided to buy for their daughter. It had cost over five grand, but it was the girl’s sixteenth, after all. And in their affluent world, the bar was high. Hannah had at least one friend who’d been given a car for her birthday. Of course, this friend’s father had run off with his dental hygienist, so a fair amount of guilt factored into the purchase. Kim felt a diamond-and-white-gold bracelet showed love without being overindulgent.