Man Detox: A Novel Page 2

  “I break my phone all the time!” the woman commented.

  “Yes, I just had an accident…” Irene said.

  “Phone accidents; I wonder how many people have died because of them? You know what helps? Put a screen on it. They have these little plastic things that cover it on top. It’s a lifesaver, I tell you. You don’t want to cut your fingers trying to use it. I mean, at least until you buy a new one and replace it, which costs too much if you ask me. So unfair, isn’t it?” The woman didn’t seem like she was going to stop talking.

  To avoid the intrusion, Irene got up and walked to the kiosk she had passed by on her way to the gate. After spending five dollars for a sticky film that held the screen in place, she was relieved to get back and not find the woman where she was sitting before. She didn’t see her until she got up to board when the first class passengers were called.

  It seemed to Irene the woman now frowned at her for an unexplained reason. Some kind of jealousy, Irene thought. As if to not look out of place, she walked past the gate agent and down the jet way and sat confidently on the plush third-row seat she knew she didn’t earn. She had walked past these comfortable seats before and wondered about the smug and elitist people. Now, she was one of them. Out of place, but determined to not make it too obvious.

  “Ms. Harwin, can I get you your champagne now?”

  “Champagne?” Irene asked, more startled than confused.

  The elderly man sitting next to her didn’t seem to be interested in any kind of interaction, which suited Irene just fine. She shook her head to express agreement to the champagne offering. There wasn’t much to keep her distracted other than reading the in-flight magazine. She had forgotten to pack a book.

  When the glass of bubbly drink arrived long before the plane started taxing, she reminded herself to pick a book at Houston airport.

  By the standard of the compact economy class travel experience, the first class cabin felt too extravagant. All her previous air travels were mostly filled with smelly adults and diapers as if to make a point to Irene of life’s ultimate insignificance, packed into small spaces negotiating the etiquette of armrest sharing if the seat adjacent isn’t overflowing with the excess of humanity, the inevitable snoring or cries of an unruly child.

  A few hundred dollars was the difference between being first and last. Here, in this spaciousness and most attentive service she had ever seen on a plane, she could for once relax without having to fidget the air vent nob high above. Here, she could be all by herself. In the privacy of her thoughts and worries and musings.

  Irene wondered if this was how the surgeons she worked with at the hospital traveled. She had heard they make a lot of money, which if rumors were accurate could be more than ten times her salary. She couldn’t fathom how people she worked with in the same operating room, probably no more than a few years older than her, could be valued so much more than her.

  Sure, they cut and suture and whatever else they did while they cursed and screamed at support staff for the slightest hiccups. But who takes care of the patients before and after they are on the table? It was the nurses who do the hard work of providing care. In a way, it was that aspect of giving care and attention to patients, working them through their medications and recovery that Irene enjoyed most.

  There had been interesting encounters with varied personalities. There was the infighting among the younger nurses trying to capture the attention of single and decidedly eligible doctors. For some, work is nothing but a pathway to scoring a wealthy doctor and settling into a fabulous housewife career. There was no winning. If one was half decent looking, the men were relentless in leveraging the power dynamic to exact concessions, and women colleagues were always suspicious of each other at best.

  Irene had held her ground and made it through the first two years. Seeing a couple of her colleagues graduate to the Mrs ranks with all the upgrades in the quality of their lives, while she was busy paying down her student loans, had made Irene question her stubbornness. How can she truly be saving herself when there was no prospect on the horizon?

  The resentment of her rushed decisions in refusing previous advances were now acute in the comfort of the first class. She imagined this would have been the life she might have been entitled to had she said yes to any number of the offers thrown her way.

  What was wrong with Dr. Caleb anyway? He was cute, smart, young, handsome, and all the rest. Sure, he was a womanizer, and he might have slept with all the nurses in the hospital. But he was the definition of kindness with such a heartwarming bedside manner, wasn’t he?

  Could she not have been the exception to the rule instead of resisting the temptation to say yes? All that resistance for what? To save Irene Harwin’s purity until the right man comes along? Or, to play this charade of a detox from something she never got a taste of, which the good doctor would have been more than compliant in teaching her about?

  It all seemed pathetic now with the new found clarity of her thinking, aided by the third glass of champagne she was drinking. She started to wonder if this vacation from men, the vaunted man fast she had declared was also completely foolish.

  It was one thing to know what men meant to a woman, in both emotional and physical ways, and decide to abstain from them. Her situation was altogether different. Contradiction in terms, as one of her colleagues said to her.

  Outside of a few awkward kisses through high school and college, to say that Irene’s interactions with men had been limited is a total overstatement. Was it bad to have the attention of men? Was it that intolerable that she felt she needed to fast from them? It was absurd, and the absurdity of the whole pretense of keeping her purity now seemed so ridiculous.

  If only one of the book boyfriends had come to life, Irene had wondered devouring all the Fifty Shades and Twilight volumes and any number of romance novels. She had swooned after all the able-bodied good looking men who stole her heart. She had immersed herself in their world vicariously living in the heroines’ journey, feeling the tender kisses and touches until it got to the screaming and out of body climatic orgasmic pleasures became too much to bottle inside.

  And yet, she had resisted the urge to go too far. Keeping her hope that one of those men would suddenly materialize and complete her life. Could Dr. Caleb have been that man? Dr. Lewis? Dr. Norton? Too many to count now.

  Irene realized what she didn’t like about them all. They were indiscriminate. They were flirtatious with any woman that flirted back with them. She didn’t like the idea that she was one of the many options. The tradeoff was now clear. Beautiful life versus the romantic ideal of completion in another soul.

  Irene walked out the plane at Houston airport feeling rested and energized at the same time. Who knew air travel could be this enjoyable? Before she made it to her gate to catch the connecting flight to Cancun, she stopped by a bookstore. Anything would do at this point as long as it had a bit of spunk and steam to it. Any book that could help her figure out what went on in the twisted mind of men...

  Nothing about her life had mirrored the life of any of those characters. Hers was a modest middle-class upbringing in a union household. Boring and traditional for the most part. Uneventful with no serendipitous encounters with impossibly gorgeous men. For whatever reason, the universe had decided she would wait until this day, less than a month after her twenty-third birthday to bring the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  The thought of the man figuring out about her travel plans, arranging for rebooking, and going through the trouble of placing custom drink orders for her were all too farfetched. There was simply not enough time to do all that.

  What was it? Less than an hour from the time the towncar drove away, and she showed up at the ticketing counter to discover her surprise. How did he place the card in her purse if he was busy trying to orient himself after the accident?

  It didn’t make any sense at all. And yet, as she walked into the bookstore, past the rack of any number of magazines, her eyes
were drawn to the cover of one particular issue. It was the man, it was him in all his improbable manliness, gracing the cover with gravitas and focus.

  Ethan Anderson. A Man on a Mission.

  The big, bold letters announced to the world. Irene now is part of that world. Irrevocably charmed and drawn, her heart beating so fast that she wondered if others milling about the crowded space might have heard.

  Ethan Anderson. Irene couldn’t believe it. For a moment, she was unsure if it was really that same man who had tried to rescue her from an accident before disappearing unannounced. Instead of buying a book, she picked the magazine and headed directly to a bathroom.

  She couldn’t trust herself not to blush or make otherwise untowardly gestures as she gazed at the cover. She needed to get past the shock phase before she could bring herself to read more about him. She noticed she loved his name. If she were to name him, she would have picked Ethan. It was perfect. Fitting for a man of his caliber, as she now learned was higher than anything she might have expected as a CEO of not one, but two fast-growing companies.

  All the dismissive thoughts about the impossibility of one man arranging for all her travel convenience were now replaced by a fervent desire for it to be the case. Could it really be him that promised to see her soon?

  Irene might have stayed in the bathroom stall had it not been for the need to board her flight. She washed her face with cold water and walked fast to the gate. She wondered, even hoped to some degree, if Ethan might surprise her by showing up at the gate.

  It didn’t happen. Instead, she sat next to a middle-aged man, lascivious in his intention to get her attention. She could tell from his reaction as she stopped at the seat and looked at her boarding pass to confirm. His teeth were unnaturally white, and his face looked as if he were roasted in open flame. She assumed it was the sort of man that preyed on women like her.

  ∫---∫

  Chapter Three

  “Business or pleasure?” The man sitting next to Irene asked.

  “Uh… Pleasure…”

  “Terrific. Me, too,” he said leaning closer to her and putting his right hand out for an introduction. “I’m Roger.”

  “Nice to meet you, Roger. Irene. My husband and kids beat me by a flight… Family vacation...”

  Irene’s heart was beating so fast she worried he might sniff out her improvised lie. Was she old enough to look married with kids? His facial expression visibly changed as he let go of her hand and kept his distance.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years you had kids.”

  “Yeah? I had them when I was young…”

  “You look like you aren’t older than twenty at the most…”

  Irene kept silent letting the thought of a family and a husband flourish in her mind. The first possibility that came to mind was none other than Ethan. It was too ridiculous of a thought, and yet it felt like a real thing.

  How many kids would they have? It would have to be three. She had always wanted three, two boys and one precious girl. What would Ethan be like to have as a husband? Forget husband, how would it be like to be around him? To talk to him and learn about his life. She wished the man hadn’t been sitting next to her.

  What was the etiquette anyway about dealing with crazy men in first class cabin? What had always worked for Irene was the appearance of business with one task or another, walking away with focused determination as if no additional second could be spared.

  Here, there was no escaping the inconvenience. She thought she might leave to use the bathroom in the cabin to keep a distance and read the article about Ethan. But it was occupied. So there was no hiding from the inquisitive glances of the man sitting by the window.

  “You wouldn’t be trying to deceive me, would you? I am usually pretty good at reading people.” He said with confidence while keeping his distance from her. His body had turned around to face her.

  “Is that right? What are you reading now?”

  “I will make a guess. If I am close, you will allow me to buy you a drink. If not…”

  “No, thank you,” she said, not particularly hating the man’s insistence. She was bothered by it, but in a way that provoked her curiosity. What could a man of this age be doing on a plane traveling to Cancun alone?

  “No, you wouldn’t let me buy you a drink? Or, are you scared I might be right about you?”

  “I don’t drink,” she said hoping he would stop talking.

  As if on cue, the stewardess walked by with a glass of Irene’s now favorite champagne. The small lie had caught her in a bind, and the man knew he was already on track to figuring her out. Irene blushed receiving the glass. The man offered a toast.

  “To a new beginning… and honesty…”

  It was a trap. A dangerous trap she hadn’t prepared herself for. What does she do now? Dismiss the man outright and get back to reading the article on Ethan? What would the man think about that? Somehow she didn’t want anyone to know about her connection with the mystery man that rescued her. It was a secret she would guard with all her being for now.

  “So, my guess… You’re going to Cancun for some kind of a gathering, am I right?”

  He was dangerously disarming. The longer he talked, the more charming he came across to Irene. For that same precise reason, and perhaps to protect and save herself for whatever eventuality that may come out of the “See you soon!” promise, she didn’t want to indulge the man in the guessing game. She was hypothetically married and had three adorable kids. That was the end of the story.

  “I’m sorry, Roger. I’m really tired. I have a busy weekend ahead. I wish I could chat more…”

  With that kind of opening, now there was no chance for learning about Ethan. She would have to pretend to sleep to keep the man off her back.

  “Most certainly. If you tell me where you are staying… I manage a business interest that owns a number of resorts.”

  If it weren’t for the fact of the hypothetical and dream scenario of being married to Ethan and having three kids with him, this might have been an intriguing interaction with a complete stranger. Economy travel didn’t afford this kind of encounters with the elites of society that own and operate businesses across geographic boundaries.

  Should she be impressed? He was relentless and wasn’t going to let her off the hook unless she improvised and did something.

  Irene rose from her chair and walked away from trouble. The bathroom was freed up in time to give her the perfect excuse to create a separation between the sleazy man and her dreaming about an unattainable life. When she got back to her seat in part heeding the warning about a forthcoming turbulent patch, picking a blanket along the way, she was ready to completely avoid the attention of the man and actually try to get some sleep.

  The sleep was futile, the time was nonetheless occupied with wonderment about the adventure this trip entailed. It was already a big deal that Irene had gotten a passport for the first time in her life, and was now slated to visit a foreign country. She didn’t speak a word of Spanish, but was advised to follow the signs to the exit and find men in cyan and white uniform to take her to the resort. It didn’t help that she had recently seen reports of intensified drug violence in Mexico.

  It was plenty adventure before Ethan collided in her life. The longer she thought about the possibility of anyone else arranging her flights, it became abundantly clear it had to be him. No way had anyone known anything about her flight outside of the girlfriends she looked forward to meeting in a few hours, none were wealthy enough to afford the rebooking fees let alone upgrade into first class. It could certainly be Lauren’s fiancé, Tom. He was wealthy enough to do something like that. But then how about the note? Who would want to see her soon?

  Roger handed her a business card when the plane landed despite Irene’s concerted effort to ignore his repeated outreach. When she stepped into the terminal bustling with activity, she lingered behind to make sure he was gone before she headed to the exit, taking the o
pportunity to charge her phone.

  When the phone came back to life, there were a few messages from Lauren successively fluctuating between despair for missing the flight to jubilation for not missing it after all. It was apparent the party was already in full swing. There was also another message, from an unknown number.

  I trust you made it safe. Lunch tomorrow?

  Irene thought her heart was about to leap outside her body. She was sitting on the floor next to the outlet with her back against the glass wall and looking out into the crowd of tourist. She hoped the message might have been from Ethan. She had to verify quickly before she took another breath. She took out the magazine and stared at the picture again recollecting the mental image of him looking through the door and standing right next to the car many hours earlier.

  In that state of excitation, Irene didn’t stop to think how the person texting her might have obtained her phone number. Assuming it was Ethan, how was he able to get her flight information and rearrange everything? Why didn’t the number show on her phone? If nothing else, all this showed some kind of freakish capability she wouldn’t know how to deal with. The sense of danger was scary, intriguing, and thrilling.

  When she had settled imagining how Ethan must have been thinking about her for the whole day, a thought crept into her mind. Could it be Roger?

  “Who is this?” She responded to the message. Better clarify than be sorry. She had already gone too far with the sleazy man.

  “Your new collision buddy from the morning…” Came a response initiating a dramatic escalation of happiness and excitement in Irene. There was only one collision buddy from the morning that could be reaching out to her.

  “Thank you so much for everything! The flights, the champagne, and everything else.”