Natalie got the napkin to her lips a split second before she spit out her drink.
Audrey gave a nervous but endearing laugh as her face went bright red.
“That’s right. My sixty-eight-year-old, Catholic-to-the-bone mother asked me for tips on vibrators.”
She was still laughing, and now Natalie could safely join in.
“What did you say?”
“What do you think I said? I told her Dame Zee, of course.”
Natalie made an uncertain frown. She’d never heard of it, and Audrey picked up on her expression.
“It’s relatively new … made from the same plastic as Legos, believe it or not, which means thinner material and more room for a high-powered motor.”
Natalie held Audrey’s gaze a couple beats before both women broke into a fit of laughter.
“Oh my God, if you knew my mother … she’s like the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live. I mean, if she had any idea I told you this!” Audrey’s expression suggested some sort of fire-and-brimstone type of event. “She calls it self-care, can’t even bring herself to say the word.”
Natalie kept a hand over her mouth, simultaneously feeling delighted and mortified.
“I have to say that’s not at all what I was expecting to hear.”
“Tell me about it,” said Audrey with a smirk, still breathing heavily from the fit of laughter. “Anyway, my mother swears by it now. It must release some sleepy-time chemical, I don’t know. I probably should research that myself, if you catch my drift.”
“Caught,” said Natalie with a smile. “Are you with someone?” Audrey just gave her an opening to make her request. Natalie figured if she were unattached, she’d be more willing to lend a hand.
It was as if the air had been suddenly sucked from the room. Natalie could see Audrey retreat into herself, felt the invisible wall come up around her. Sadness seeped into her eyes.
“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. It was evident this was uncomfortable territory for her. “That’s what I was crying about when you came into the kitchen area that day.”
“Oh,” said Natalie. She hadn’t meant to go there, but now that a door of sorts was open, she felt safe to explore.
“I’m having some—troubles on the relationship front,” Audrey confessed. “It’s been a difficult, um, let’s call it month.”
“I’m sorry to hear,” said Natalie. “Relationships are seldom easy.” She wasn’t sure what else to say, but felt confident that her words of comfort did little to ease Audrey’s pain.
“Adler’s actually my married name,” Audrey revealed. “I’m divorced. Four years now. Haven’t gone back to my maiden name because, well, it’s a long story. Anyway, according to my then-husband, I wasn’t cut out for marriage. I honestly agreed with him. There wasn’t anything wrong with us exactly, but there wasn’t anything really right about us either. We were just flat, or, according to him, I was. Then, I met the person I thought I’d be with forever and everything changed. I felt alive again, in every way.” Audrey paused to make sure “every way” was perfectly understood. “Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out that way.”
A small part of Natalie felt shamefully disappointed. Now it would be quite awkward and utterly inappropriate to proposition Audrey for help with her own relationship troubles.
“Were you together long?”
“No,” Audrey said with a pitiful shake of her head. “Eight months, about. But it was quite intense.”
Eight months was about how long Natalie’s marriage had been on the rocks, and that felt like an eternity. Einstein was right. Time really was relative.
“It was super passionate, the most—uh, most intense love affair of my life. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t unload.”
“No, no, don’t be sorry at all. Didn’t we talk about that? You apologizing for everything?”
Audrey offered up a half smile.
“It’s fine, really,” Natalie continued. “You need to vent and I’m an impartial ear, so if I can be helpful, I’m happy to do so.”
“Thanks,” Audrey said. Her sincerity carried a certain innocence to it that made Natalie want to embrace this young woman in a hug. “I’ve never been so in love before, so loved, but it was, um … kind of complicated.”
“Why’s that?” Natalie asked.
Audrey sighed, looking ashamed.
“Well, this person I was with for those incredible eight months … was married.”
The harsh reminder of Michael’s suspected infidelity made Audrey’s admission feel like a slap to the face. One moment Natalie was all compassion and attentiveness, and the next she gazed at her lunch companion with a look of stunned disbelief, eyes wide as though she’d been stung by a wasp.
“Did you know he was married when you got involved?” Natalie asked, worried that Audrey might pick up the quaver in her voice.
“No … no … not at first, but eventually, yeah, I found out. But by then I was in too deep. I’m not proud of myself. Not at all. I never thought of myself as the home-wrecker type.”
“His wife found out?”
Audrey paused, uncertain, it seemed, how to answer.
“No. Not yet. But there was talk of ending things. Divorce, all that.”
Natalie had an entire catalog of fantasies about what she’d do if she could confront Michael’s paramour. They ranged from the benign—a yelling fit, “He’s my man, back off!”—to the truly sinister, such as driving the other woman off a cliff, like something out of a movie. Of course there were no California-style cliffs in the Boston area for that fantasy to play out, but still, it was strangely satisfying to imagine the harlot’s car careening out of control, hear the crunch of metal as the vehicle broke through the guardrail, listen to the terrified screams as Michael’s lover plunged to her death on the rocky shore below. Never in all her imagining though did Natalie consider a scenario in which she’d confront a woman destroying another’s marriage in such close proximity.
“I know it’s awful, but it’s not like there weren’t problems at home before we got involved.”
“Right, but it’s hard to fix those problems when the focus is elsewhere.”
Audrey looked deeply embarrassed.
“I know … you’re right, and I feel sick about it. But you have to understand, the chemistry between us was instantaneous. It was like a magnetic pull. Honestly, it was overwhelming.”
“Where did you meet?”
Audrey paused. How to share, her eyes were saying.
“At the gym,” she finally confessed.
“Which gym?”
“Oakmont Athletic Club.”
“Our corporate gym?”
I was right, Natalie realized. Audrey does go to the gym just like everyone at Dynamic Media because Steve Z. provides it.
“It’s open to the public,” Audrey said, making it clear it wasn’t a work colleague with whom she’d started her liaison.
It’s also open to spouses of employees, Natalie thought as a tickle of apprehension slipped under her skin.