Good in Bed

I leaned my head against Adrian’s shoulder, figuring that he wouldn’t mind. And that was when I thought of something else.

I plucked his phone out of my purse, then dug out the napkin with Maxi’s number, and held my breath until I heard her bright, British, “Hello.”

“Hey, Maxi,” I whispered.

“Ca

“On the beach,” I said. “I’m not sure exactly where, but…”

“You’re with Adrian?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. “And he’s kind of passed out.”

Maxi started laughing… and in spite of myself, I started laughing, too. “So help me out. What’s the etiquette here? Do I stay? Do I go? Do I, like, leave him a note?”

“Where are you, exactly?” asked Maxi.

I looked around for a sign, for a light, for something. “I remember the last street we were on was Del Rio Way,” I said. “And we’re right on a bluff, maybe twenty-five yards over the water”

“I know where that is,” Maxi said. “At least, I think I do. It’s where he shot the love scene for Estella’s Eyes.”

“Great,” I said, trying to remember whether anyone had passed out during that particular scene. “So what should I do?”

“I’m going to give you directions to my house,” she told me. “I’ll be waiting.”

Maxi’s directions were perfect, and in twenty minutes’ time we were pulling into the driveway of a small, gray-shingled house on the beach. It was the kind of place I might have picked out, given my druthers, and probably several million dollars.

Maxi herself was waiting in the kitchen. She’d swapped her dress and updo for a pair of black leggings, a T-shirt, and pigtails, which would have looked ridiculous on 99.9 percent of the female population, but looked adorable on her. “Is he still passed out?”

“Come see,” I whispered. We walked back to the car where Adrian still lay in the passenger’s seat, his mouth gaping open, his eyes sealed shut, and my panty liner still perched on his forehead.

Maxi burst out laughing. “What is that?”

“It was the best I could do,” I said defensively.

Still giggling, Maxi grabbed a copy of Variety from what I took to be her recycling bin, rolled it up, and poked Adrian in the arm. Nothing. She moved the magazine lower and poked him in the belly. No response.

“Huh,” said Maxi. “Well, I don’t think he’s dying, but maybe we should bring him inside.”

Slowly and carefully, with much grunting and giggling, we maneuvered Adrian out of the car and onto Maxi’s living room couch – a gorgeous white leather construction that I very much hoped Adrian would not defile.

“We should turn him on his side, in case he throws up…” I suggested, and stared at Adrian. “Do you really think he’s okay?” I asked. “He was taking Ecstasy…”

“He’ll probably be fine,” she said dismissively. “But maybe we should stay with him.” She peered at me. “You must be exhausted.”

“You, too,” I said. “I’m sorry about this…”

“Ca

She looked at Adrian, then at me. “Slumber party?” she asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

While Maxi went off, presumably to gather bedding material, I took off Adrian’s shoes, then socks. I slid his belt out of its loops, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled off the panty liner and replaced it with a dishtowel I’d found in the kitchen.

Then while Maxi piled blankets and pillows on the floor, I washed the makeup off my face, struggled into a Maxi-provided T-shirt, and thought of what I could do to make myself useful.

There was a fireplace in the center of the living room – a perfect-looking, pristine fireplace with a stack of birch logs in the grate in its center. And I knew how to make fires. This was good.

I couldn’t find newspaper, so I tore pages of Variety, twisted them into pretzels, put them underneath the wood, checked to make sure the flue was open, checked to make sure that the wood was actual wood, and not some decorator’s ceramic critique of wood, then lit a match from the matchbook I’d grabbed at the Star Bar, in hopes of proving to Samantha and Andy and Lucy that I’d actually been there. The paper flared, then the logs started burning, and I rocked back on my heels, satisfied.

“Wow,” said Maxi, snuggling into her pile of blankets, turning her face toward the fire’s glow. “How’d you learn to do that?”

“My mother taught me,” I said. She looked at me expectantly, so I told the story… to Maxi, and, I thought, to my baby, too, of how we’d all go fishing on Cape Cod, and how my mother would build a fire to keep us warm… how we’d sit in a circle – my father, my sister, my brother, and me – roasting marshmallows and watching my mother standing in the water, tossing the silvery filament of line out into the gray-black water, with her shorts rolled up and her legs strong and ta

“Good times,” Maxi repeated, rolling over and falling asleep. I lay there for a while, my eyes wide open in the darkness, listening to her deep, quiet breaths and Adrian’s snoring.

Well, here you are, I told myself. The fire was dying down to embers. I could smell the smoke on my hands and in my hair, and I could hear the waves moving on the shore, and see the sky lightening from black to gray. Here you are, I thought. You Are Here. I cupped my hands around my belly. The baby turned, swimming in her sleep, executing what felt like a backflip. Her, I thought. A girl, for sure.

I sent out a good-night prayer to Nifkin, who I figured would be fine for one night on his own in a luxury hotel. Then I closed my eyes and conjured my mother’s face over those Cape Cod fires, so happy and at peace. And, feeling happy and at peace myself, I finally fell asleep.

SIXTEEN

When I woke up it was 10:30 in the morning. The fire was out. So were Ad rian and Maxi.

As quietly as I could I made my way to the second floor. Polished hardwood floors, modern maple shelves and dressers, mostly empty. I wondered how Maxi felt, inhabiting and abandoning a series of houses, like a caterpillar casting aside its cocoon. I wondered if it bothered her at all. I knew it would bother me.

The bathroom brimmed with all ma

When I came back downstairs Maxi was still asleep, curled like an adorable kitten on top of a pile of blankets. But where Adrian had slumbered, there was only a single sheet of notepaper.

I picked it up. “Dear Cassie,” it began, and I snorted laughter. Well, I thought, at least he was close. And I’d certainly been called worse. “Thank you very much for taking care of me last night. I know that we don’t know each other well…”

And here I snorted again. Don’t know each other well! We’d barely exchanged five sentences before he’d passed out!

“… but I know that you’re a kind person. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother. I’m sorry I had to leave in such a hurry, and that I won’t get to see you again any time soon. I’m off to location, in Toronto, this morning. So I hope you’ll enjoy this while you’re in California.”