As it turned out, I didn’t talk to Chris the next day. When I arrived at poolside with my paraphernalia, the area was deserted. Relief surged through me as I settled into a lounge chair and pulled out my writing pad. The words came readily today. I’d found that the more circumstances cornered me, the more my creative juices flowed. I recognized my need to escape reality. By creating plot and characters, I was in control. All my endings would be happy. If only I could arrange my own life so easily.

Mid-afternoon, I phoned the salon.

“J and K’s on Main, Kirk speaking,” came my husband’s vibrant voice.

“Hi.”

“Hi, darling.”

I closed my eyes and let his words caress me and snap my world in place. “Are you busy?”

“Just finishing...Bye, Mandy. See you next month.” He laughed at something the regular, middle-aged client said in parting. “Okay, honey, I’m back. God, I’ve missed you.”

Then, “Having fun?”

“Mmm. So so.”

“That mean you’re ready to come home?”

I thought about it for a moment. “It might.”

“You’ve already paid for the next twenty-four hours. May as well enjoy it.” I heard him greet his next client. “Gotta run. My appointment is here. Love you, honey,” his voice vibrated with emotion.

“Me, too.”

“Have you missed me?”

“Mm hm.”

“Sure?” Did I imagine tension in the word?

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The line went dead. For long moments, I stared at the receiver in my hand, wondering what in blazes I was going to do to fill up the rest of the day.

The Coquina Room was nearly filled. I sat alone, sipping my watery Seven-Up. Loneliness drove me there. By nightfall, I’d had it up to here with my quiet room and silent phone. When I’d called home, I got no answer. A quick call to Dad and Anne’s confirmed Toby was still there. Dawn and Heather were at Trish’s. Where was Kirk? It had been my understanding he was going to pick Toby up earlier today. Why had he changed his mind?

“You okay, Neecy?” Anne’s voice had relayed her worry. “Kirk said you’d been depressed.”

“I’m fine, Anne. I didn’t really want to come, but Kirk insisted it would do me good to get away.”

“It probably will. You’ve been working too hard, according to Kirk.”

I heard, behind Anne’s kind words, her disappointment that I’d closed them all out in recent years. But it wasn’t in her nature to be intrusive or demanding and now, more than ever, I was grateful. I’d quickly ended the conversation.

Tonight, I gazed about me. The lowered lights cast an enchanting spell over the party atmosphere. Everybody seemed carefree yet glamorously postured. Except me. The scene would have been Norman Rockwell funny had I felt light-hearted enough to laugh. As it was, my chest felt weighted with an iron anvil – cold and heavy.

I’m different. I’ve always been different. Any other woman would have been having the time of her life but not old Janeece. My fingers curled against palms until I felt the long nails cutting blood. Kirk has to run you off to get you out of his hair.

Where was Kirk? Why had he been so desperate to get rid of me anyway?

Anger, a white-hot force, gathered inside me.

“May I?” A male voice pulled my attention to my left, where a neatly dressed man with a nice smile held out a hand to me.

Feeling more than a little reckless, I took his hand and let him steer me to the dance floor. The little black sleeveless knit dress with its dainty gold buckle had cost a fortune and tonight, I was glad for its classy look. I enjoyed the respect I saw in the man’s eyes.

The slow song was not one I recognized, but my partner was a good dancer, easy to follow and I began to relax. As we chatted, I learned he was a tech math teacher from Orangeburg attending an educational convention. “So that’s why the Coquina Room is so packed out,” I said, “A convention.”

“Undoubtedly.” The song ended and he politely thanked me for the dance.

When I sat down, the anger I’d felt earlier returned full force. I got to my feet and sought out a pay phone. After twenty rings at the Crenshaw residence, I slammed down the receiver and whirled around to backtrack –

“Oops,” male hands steadied me.

Startled, I gazed up into a familiar face. “Chris – ”

“Janeece,” a very big grin slid across his good-looking face “I thought that was you heading out the door. I followed to make sure.”

“Wh—where are your buddies?”

“Split to see some girls they met.”

“You mean you haven’t run into an irresistible female down here?” I teased.

“Yeah. You.”

I gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

He rolled back his head in laughter. “I know, I know. You think I followed you here, but I promise – scout’s honor—I only came after getting bored at the Sandlapper Bar.” He shrugged, looking so boyishly innocent, I burst into laughter.

“So,” he gently took my elbow and steered me back to the main room, “don’t let me spoil your fun. Just act like I’m not here. Okay?”

He settled me into my chair and asked, quite uncertainly, “Would you mind if I join you?”

“Oh, sit down, Chris,” I said, fighting back laughter, suddenly thankful somebody wanted to be with me. Heck, even Kirk wanted me gone.

Mine was not self-pity. It was a cold acceptance of placelessness. Whereas the old Janeece worked at making people happy and charming them into loving her, the new woman accepted that she was not solely responsible for others’ contentment and was resigned that she was not always loved in return.

The band, accepting requests, struck up Special Angel, and I felt my eyes moisten. It was one of my and Kirk’s favorite love songs. I pinched my forehead to squelch tears, knowing what a mess I’d be if they spilled over and trailed through my makeup. I’d look like a raccoon with scars streaking down my cheeks. Even Chris would be mortified.

“May I?”

My head jerked up. “Of course, Chris.” Gratitude shot out the top of my head and my fingers eagerly linked with his as I followed him to the spotlighted area of the room. Much of my starch dissolved as he took me into his arms and, very gentlemanly, whirled me onto the dance floor. Then he began to make little harmless descriptive asides about some of the more eccentric dancers. By the end of the number, he had me laughing till my sides hurt.

“That’s better,” he gazed down at me like a fatherly figure. “You need to laugh more, Janeece.” I was impressed with this more mature emergence of the young man.

Chris ordered himself a mixed drink. I sipped my flat Seven-Up as he stirred his fruity concoction. “That smells heavenly,” I said, chin in hand.

“Want a taste?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head firmly.

The band launched into Sixty-Minute Man and Chris and I danced a lively shag, laughing and mugging all the way back to the table. Then in a sheer reckless gesture, I picked up his drink and took a long pull on it. “It’s delicious,” I said.

“Here,” he said, “keep it. I’ll order another one for me.”

So, I sipped the drink, feeling sophisticated and free and all the things that, through the years, I’d disdained in others. Little nudges to my brain irritated me – I kept pushing them away. I didn’t want to think and feel guilty.

We talked and danced a couple of more dances. Chris ordered me another drink. As the evening passed, I felt better and better. My tongue began to get lazy and I laughed about that.

“I mean,” I said to Chris out of the blue, “didn’t even Jesus drink wine?”

“I believe you’re right,” he said quite seriously. “Look – don’t drink that if you don’t feel right about it.”

“I’ve about finished it anyway,” I said.

Chris scratched his head, eyeing me soberly. “How long – I mean, you really don’t drink at all?”

“Nope. I’m a to-teeler.” I giggled. “Tha’s not right, is it?”

He didn’t laugh. “A tee-totaler.” His brow furrowed. “Janeece, I’m sorry I gave you the drink. I feel terrible.”

I laughed a full, froggy belly laugh. “Not me. I feel good.”

Chris watched me warily. Like I was going to blow up or something. “How about some coffee?”

“Huh uh.” I grinned at him. “Can I have another juice drink?”

“I don’t think that would be wise, Janeece.” He looked worried now. Really distressed.

“Don’ look so sad, Chris,” I said, trying to prop on my elbow. It kept slipping off the table, making me giggle. Which made Chris more anxious but I couldn’t help that everything was hilarious. After such a long, long stretch of sadness, it felt good to turn loose and be free and have such a wonderful time with such a good friend. My best friend in the whole world, in fact.

“Hey,” I leaned close and whispered, “I feel good for the firs’ time in years.” He stared at me and I nodded solemnly. “Tha’s right. Kirk made me come here. I din’t want to.” I took another sip from the nearly empty glass, jerking it away from Chris’s hand as he tried to take it away. “Nonono. Mus’n bea – an Indian giver,” I scolded, then another giggle

“Why did Kirk make you come here?” Chris asked, watching me intently.

“Cause – ” I thought for long moments, trying to remember. Then I cut my gaze at him and grinned. “Ask me again.”

He frowned and then looked very sad. “I asked why you’re here.”

“Cause Kirk didn’t want me – with him. He wants me here.” My finger jabbed the tabletop. “So I’m here.”

“Why didn’t he come with you, Janeece?” The question was soft. “If you were my wife, I’d never send you off alone.”

I shrugged and nearly lost my balance. Why was the room moving? “He’s doin’ somethin’, Chris. I don’ know what. He’s drinkin’ – oops.” I covered my mouth. “Not s’posed to say that.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so good. “I need to go, Chris,” I mumbled and began to rise. He caught me before I hit the floor. “Jus’ tangled my foot on my purse string is all,” I muttered, trying to shake loose of the shoulder strap. Chris’s strong arms hoisted me into upright position and he somehow managed to walk me the length of the room and into the corridor as though it were an ordinary thing for the two of us.

“Christ,” I heard him mutter.

“Don’ take the name of the Lord in vain, Chris,” I scolded, then smiled at him.

I thought I saw tears in his eyes but just as quickly forgot about it. “Give me your key,” he said, then checked my room number on it. On the elevator going up, I began to feel bad in earnest.

“I don’t feel so good, Chris,” I groaned and burrowed my head against his shoulder.

“Hang in there, Janeece. We’ll have you in your room before you know it.”

Another corridor – ten miles long and Chris propped me between his shoulder and the wall before I heard the key inserted into the lock. He caught me as I toppled.

I felt myself lifted then lowered onto a bed that moved. He turned on a lamp.

“Chris,” I lolled my head over to look at him through a red haze. “I’m dying.”

“No, Janeece. You’re not dying. You just lie there and – ”

“Get the waste basket. Hurry – ”

He grabbed it from beside the dresser and had it under my head as I began throwing up. I have to hand it to him – Chris not only had guts, he had a strong stomach. Pregnancy nausea was Minnie Mouse compared to my purging that evening. When it subsided, Chris washed my face with a warm soapy wash cloth. He slipped my shoes off and tucked me in.

“Don’t leave me,” I moaned, clutching at his shirt. “I really am dying.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Janeece.” He gently pried my fingers loose. “Try to go to sleep.” I heard him slip off his shoes and lie down on the sofa across the room from me, but I was already spinning back into the Netherland of nightmarish twilight.

“God is punishing me, Chris,” I groaned.

“Shhh.”

“He is.”

“Go to sleep.”

I lapsed into the awful twilight. Sometime later, I curled over on my side, fighting down another tidal wave of nausea. “Chris – the waste basket. I might....” I swallowed several times as I felt the weight of Chris’s athletic frame lower onto the side of my bed.

“Here,” he said gently, holding the basket near me.

“Just – set it there on the floor.” I swallowed some more and moaned. Presently, I felt the wet cloth wipe my face again. It began to soothe and settle the quandary inside me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I felt his weight lift from the mattress and heard him resettle himself on the sofa. I realized he’d emptied and washed out the small trash can whenI –

“Chris,” I croaked, “I owe you. Big time. You cleaned up that mess and – ”

“Janeece, you don’t owe me a thing. I’m glad I was here to help you. It’s the least I can do considering it’s all my fault, you being sick.” He shook his head woefully, “Dang! You told me it made you sick. It’s all my fault.”

“No. It’s not. Nobody made me drink.” My voice was whispery weak, my guilt and remorse overwhelming. I knew better than to ingest alcohol. I’d found that out when trying to sip a little wine for insomnia. It did not agree with me at all. Besides, I had no business drinking. I’d never seen its purpose, at least not in my life and not in those close to me. I’d only seen its bad results.

I heard a scraping noise and raised my head. “What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Chris came back to the bed and looked down at me. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Janeece.” He looked utterly miserable. “I – I shouldn’t have tempted you.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It was me.”

“My, my,” came a voice out of the night. A dry, sarcastic familiar voice. “Whose fault was it? Who tempted who?”

“Kirk!” I lifted my head and squinted at the shadowy figure standing just inside my door. “What are you doing here?” I moaned as nausea rose up in me again.

Chris spun around. “Kirk?” he said, moving toward my husband. “It’s a good thing you came. Janeece is – ”

Through the red mist, I saw Chris hit the floor. Kirk towered over him, fists clenching and unclenching. “That’ll teach you to tempt my wife.”

“Kirk!” I groaned. It was the last thing I could say before grabbing the bucket for another upheaval.

He hovered above me, gaping. “You’ve been drinking,” he said in amazement. “All that nagging at me and look at you.” He didn’t lift a finger to help me.

I tried to glower at him but failed when my head collapsed back on the pillow. “Don’t you think you’d better check Chris’s pulse?”

“Why?” He was in my face, his anger a whispery hiss. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I tried to match his belligerence but my voice came out like a sick woodwind instrument. “It does. He’s only tried to help me. He’s only a boy – ”

“That makes it even worse.”

Get out of this one, Janeece Crenshaw. Even in my near-death state, I knew I was in deep dung. Any leverage I had with Kirk – gone. In the best of times, Kirk was a skeptic. I didn’t have a prayer of him believing in the goodness of Chris. Nor in anything good in me, for that matter, considering the scene he walked into.

Chris, poor Chris, had most effectively served as my executioner.

When he didn’t come to right away, Kirk began to grow concerned. Oh, not about Chris but about his own skin. “If he’s dead,” Kirk said quite unemotionally, “I’ll either fry or rot in prison.” So, Kirk commenced splashing water in Chris’s gray face. Lordy was he pale. “I don’t really relish the idea of being punished over Lover Boy,” he said through gnashing teeth as he hoisted his foe onto the sofa, propped him up and began to briskly smack his cheeks and call his name.

“Do you have to slap him so hard?” I turned my face to the wall, wishing myself anywhere else on the planet. “How did you get in my room?”

“I showed my ID at the desk, told them I wanted to surprise my wife.” He gave a tight bitter laugh. “And just look who got surprised.”

When Chris groaned and began to respond, I let out a long breath of thanks. I’d been doing a lot of praying since Kirk’s untimely arrival. More than in the months leading up to tonight. When Chris spoke, one of those prayers was answered.

“What did you hit me for?” he asked Kirk, rubbing his jaw and flexing his neck.

Kirk, having paced to the window, spun and peered at him as though he’d grown toes on his chin. “You have to ask? I find you in my wife’s bedroom and you have the gall to ask that?” Kirk advanced on him again with those clenched fists that looked big as boxing gloves.

“Whoa, man!” Chris raised a trembling hand. “You’ve already done that. Okay? Chill.”

“Kirk,” I croaked. “Listen to reason. It’s not – ”

He advanced on me then, so swift I shrank back into the covers and though I didn’t think he would strike me, his white-hot gaze and furious words were just as lethal. “Reason? Listen to reason?” His laugh was mirthless. “Send Lover Boy away and we’ll reason.”

“Chris,” I said, knowing it was a control thing with Kirk, to insist I say the words, “You’d better leave.”

“No joke,” my friend rose to his six-foot height and moved unsteadily to the door. There, he turned to Kirk. “I just want you to know, Kirk – you really should count your bless – ”

“Get out.” Kirk’s order was so quiet it roared. He didn’t move a muscle, stood rooted to that floor like a mighty oak, his green gaze sparkling with fury. Chris slid me one parting, sympathetic glance – or was it pity I saw? – then quietly closed the door behind him.

It was the pity that made me lash out at Kirk. “Why are you standing there, so all righteous, spewing hatred at me?” I spat at him, surprised I’d regained the strength to raise up on a trembling elbow and glare at him.

He glared back. “I sent you here in good faith. I thought if you could just rest and – ”

“Aha!” I pointed a trembling, accusing finger so fast his features emptied with surprise. My gaze narrowed on him as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, holding on as the room moved. “You set me up. I didn’t even want to come. All that talk about how I should have an affair and you’d forgive me...manipulating me into doing something you could hold over my head and get me back under your almighty control.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Control. I’ve treated you like a queen for years now. Seems you’re the one in control. And I’m tired of it.” He pointed a finger and gazed slit-eyed down it like it was the barrel of a gun. “Things are going to change.”

Those words, things are going to change, smote me, caused something in me to plunge and spiral down, down, down until everything drained from my head and heart, until I’d gone limp and all I felt was the room doing a slow, slushy spin.

I fell backward and when the room grew still, rolled over into a fetal knot.

“Come on, Neecy,” Kirk’s voice, right at my ear, taunted me. He was hot for battle. “Let’s reason.”

Then I did what Kirk had done for years. I went to sleep.