When I got home, I made a light meal and settled down to do some prep. When I opened up my email, I had to laugh. Among the administrivia, there was a message from Lindsey with the subject line “Thank you for coming!” I clicked on it with anticipation, knowing that she would have a lot to say about my day with Grace.
Dear Steve, (it read)
Grace was very pleased with the progress you two made. I saw evidence of some very good work being done in several areas. Thank you again for your care, attention, and flexibility. We both appreciate you making yourself available!
Lindsey
That was her best email by far–laced with double-entendres, and totally innocuous to an outsider. I did my best to match her tone in my response, adding interesting line breaks just to mess with her a little.
Dear Lindsey, (I wrote after the subject line “My pleasure”)
I was glad to be there. I was very satisfied
with her hard work–
we did cover a lot of different areas.
Grace is coming
along very well, and I look forward to
filling you in
on her progress when we see each other!
I’ll be there tomorrow
to work on the essay some more.
Steve
I grinned to myself and got back to work. About 20 minutes later, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was a text from Lindsey, of course.
“You’re hysterical.
You better fill me
In, you bastard!”
I love a woman who gets the jokes!
On Tuesday, I returned to work in an excellent frame of mind. The day seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was in line at Starbucks getting a cold brew for myself and another disgusting flat white for Grace as a thank-you present. I pulled into the driveway, parked as usual, and knocked loudly. I heard steps in the entry hallway and put on my best grin, but when the door opened, my eyebrows went up in surprise. I was face-to-face with Grace’s dad for the first time since Parents’ Night.
“Hello there!” he boomed. “It’s Mr. Robertson, honey!” he called over his shoulder. “And he brought coffee for everyone!”
I could feel his question hovering in the air, so I nodded a respectful greeting and gave him a sensible response.
“Good to see you again,” I said with a smile. “I told Grace I might be late because I needed a shot of caffeine, and she asked if I could pick her up a drink as well.”
“I hope it’s your treat!” he joked, his eyes glittering. “We’re paying you a lot of money!”
I was getting tired of the booming voice already, and the money shot was completely unnecessary, but I was in no position to argue. I kept the smile on my face while I reminded myself that I was sleeping with his wife AND his daughter and he was footing the bill.
“It’s been a great arrangement so far,” I answered easily. “Grace has made a lot of progress this semester and she should be in great shape to graduate.”
“Well, that’s good! Second time’s the charm, huh?” he said with a chuckle at his own joke.
“Absolutely. Is Grace ready to get started?” I asked politely.
“She’s around somewhere!” he snorted. “Grace, honey, are you here?”
“Right here, Dad. Hi, Mr. Robertson! Thank you so much for stopping at Starbucks–I was so wiped out after the weekend that I almost fell asleep in class today.”
I gave her a small smile, inwardly admiring her innuendo.
“Ready to work on that essay?” I asked earnestly.
“I’m ready!” she chirped. “Bye, Dad!” she said as she turned toward the kitchen.
“Work hard, sweetie!” he said to her departing back. “You, too, Mr. R!” he added.
“That’s the plan!” I agreed. What a tool.
With his dismissal hanging in the air, I joined Grace at the table and ostentatiously got myself settled. Just before I hung my jacket on the back of the chair, my phone buzzed. I set my coffee and my portfolio down and took a look. It was a one-word message from Lindsey: “Sorry.”
Not wanting to stand there and text in sight of the dad, I tucked the phone away and sat down. Grace and I picked up from her outline and made our slow, painful way through the first paragraph. God help me, but we’d been over this two days earlier and she had learned the material three times–my class, Mrs. Day’s class, and my review session two weeks earlier. I sighed and steered her toward the right answers without actually putting words in her mouth. Fifty-five minutes later, she had a complete paragraph with some reasonable analysis. We spent the last few minutes of the regulation time planning due dates and checking for other missing work, but didn’t have time to accomplish anything beyond that.
I will say that both Grace and I were very distracted by the unspoken words between us. That might explain in part why the work went so slowly. I think we both needed to process what had happened, and that obviously couldn’t happen with her dad tromping around and peeking in at us periodically. In retrospect, that might have been a good thing–we definitely needed to get the essay moving after spending most of our time on Sunday in bed! I will say that Grace looked fantastic–she was still dressed for school in a pair of gray yoga pants, black sneakers, and a black alpaca hoodie that was light enough to drape deliciously over her breasts. As I packed up to go and she put her stuff away, I smiled gently at her.
“We can talk next time, okay?” I said quietly.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thanks very much for your help!” she said in a louder voice.
“My pleasure, Grace. You made some great progress!”
The dad popped out of the family room as I walked toward the door.
“All done?” he asked, ignoring the obvious and glancing at his Apple watch.
“Yes, sir. It’s hard to go for more than an hour after school. She’s got other homework, I’m sure, so I never push too hard when I’m tutoring.”
“Makes sense!” he admitted jovially. “I hope you got more out of her over the weekend!”
“Absolutely!” I agreed, matching his tone. “She had a lot more energy!”
Ha, I thought. Kiss my ass.
“That’s good! Keep it up!” he said, clapping me on the shoulder as I opened the door.
“Will do. See you soon,” I said, stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight.
“Not me!” he said with a snort. “It’s back to the grindstone tomorrow! Meeting in DC, then back on the plane again.”
“Good luck, then…travel safely.”
“Good to see you, Scott!” he said again as he closed the door.
Yeesh. Grace and Lindsey had my sympathy all of a sudden. I turned out of their driveway meditating on the strange dynamics hidden behind so many outwardly normal families. Since I was part of their strange dynamic now, I told myself to be honest and more understanding.
Just as I got on the main road, a text tone filled up the car, interrupting my thoughts and the song that had just started on Sirius radio. I stabbed the button and played the message aloud.
“Hey there,” said the flat, automatic voice. “Sorry I was hiding–I’ve been upstairs eating THC chocolates all fucking day and I’m going crazy. Can you meet me at the Long Ridge Country Club? I told HIM I have a date to play paddle.”
I had mixed feelings. The awkwardness of meeting Lindsey’s husband face-to-face still lingered, and I was kind of tired of the whole dynamic. On the plus side, Lindsey was clearly stoned off her ass and needing distraction. With a sigh for my own weakness, I punched the “speech-to-text” option on the dash and agreed.
Ten minutes later, Lindsey and I had walked past the empty paddle tennis courts. Our cars were parked far apart in the country club parking lot, and she had self-consciously threaded her arm through mine as we walked along in our winter coats. The cart paths on the golf course were scraped clean, so we ambled down the closest one just to have something to do. She was definitely stoned and we set off wordlessly together.
“I’m so sorry about him,” she said after we’d walked for a minute in silence.
“Lindsey–you don’t need to apologize,” I reassured her.
“No…I know. I’m just sorry you had to deal with him. I’m used to it, but more and more that fucking loud voice drives me nuts. I had to put up with it all weekend.”
“Yeah…that would get old,” I said sympathetically.
She went on for a little bit about how little he was around, and how hard it was to put up with his jocularity. I didn’t want to get into a big talk about her marriage. I know I was being a hypocrite–after all, I was sleeping with the guy’s wife. I just didn’t want to think about him anymore or talk about him. Fortunately, the loop of path we were on didn’t go down to the course itself–it curled back to the cart return right by the paddle tennis courts. After a few short minutes, we were right where we had started.
“Did I mention I’m the president of the paddle tennis club?” Lindsey said with a smile as we rounded the corner of the courts.
“No…we might have skipped that part of your life!” I responded, glad for a change of subject.
“It’s a fascinating sport,” she said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “It’s great exercise, and the people are great, and so much of the equipment is kept right here on the premises!”
With a wide-eyed look of innocence, she stopped at a green-painted door on the side of a shed next to the fenced-in courts. Keys jingled, wood scraped, and suddenly, she ducked inside and beckoned me to follow.
It looked like an equipment shed, alright. Being a wealthy country club, it was better lit and warmer than I expected, but otherwise normal. There were shelves with rolled-up nets, sleeves of new balls, paddles on hooks, storage bins full of god-knows-what, and a half-naked woman pulling her boots off…
“Come on!” Lindsey said with a smile as she hopped to tug at her remaining boot. “I’ve been thinking about you for a goddamn hour and I’m really high!”