My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands Read online

  "Nathan," said Nathan with a venomous look on his face. "I think you were a year or two older."

  "Yes, I think you're right," said David. "So how are you doing?"

  "So you met my wife?" Nathan said to my horror.

  I started to object, but Nathan jumped in, saying, "It's hard for her since she got out of rehab ... I mean to be around other drinkers, you understand." He picked up my drink and sniffed it. "Goddamn it, Beulah! No drinking!" he reprimanded, pointing his finger in my face. Then he shook his head, took me by the elbow, and said, "Let's run along now, dear, shall we?" I couldn't even look at David. There was no point in explaining myself out of that one, so I just turned and walked away, as if everything Nathan said had been true.

  "Why are you being such a queen?" I asked him. "He was adorable and he was straight."

  "He's an asshole. I know him. You don't want anything to do with him. And he used to think I was gay."

  "You are gay, assfucker!"

  "Shhh," he whispered. "That crazy lady was practically raping me thanks to you, and she works for the school so I couldn't tell her I was gay."

  "Oh, I'm so sick of this shit with you. No one cares if you're gay or not already! I need to have a good time too. This is not all about you!" I yelled as we argued in a corner of the patio like an old married couple. Then I left him and walked over to the first table I saw with an available seat.

  "Hello," I said to the older black couple who were already sitting there. "Do you mind if I join you?"

  "Oh, absolutely, what we need is some young blood around here to liven things up," the woman said with a big warm smile. I liked her instantly.

  I used to think I was a black person in a past life because I looooove black people. It's the way they express themselves that draws me to them. White people, for the most part, are too conservative with their emotions and not nearly as effusive as black people when they get excited. If you've ever watched a game show where a white person wins and then, later, a black person wins, you've seen the difference. Black people don't stop and think before they jump up and down in celebration. They are so much more spontaneous and festive, and I've always felt that without that kind of energy, what would be the point of anything.

  "Are you and yours having a little tete-a-tete?" the woman asked me, motioning in Nathan's direction. Apparently they had seen our little spat.

  "Yes," I said. "He'll be okay, he's just having a little episode. I'm Beulah."

  "Well, that's just beautiful. Is it a family name?" she asked me.

  "Yes," I said. Technically, it wasn't a lie. Beulah had to be someone's family name. The only Beulah I knew of was Beulah Balbricker, the crazy gym teacher in the movie Porky's who was a complete mess.

  Their names were Valerie and Larry William. I loved the way Valerie spoke. Everything she said rolled off her tongue in a soft mellifluous melody. It had a soothing southern sound to it, and she was one of those people who just kept smiling and whose skin was as smooth as a Milk Dud.

  They told me their son had gone to this school, and he was now on the road playing professional basketball, so they had come in his honor. Couples who have been together for so long intrigue me. I am genuinely curious to know what was so different thirty years ago that you actually had a desire to wake up next to the same guy every morning for the rest of your life. Watching Larry rub Valerie's hand, I wanted to be in love like them. But as long as Nathan was around, that wouldn't be happening any time that night.

  They were in the middle of telling me about how Larry William proposed to Val, when Nathan plopped down in the seat next to me, slammed his drink on the table, and introduced himself. His tie was crooked and he was licking the corner of his mouth, trying to free some hummus. He was clearly drunk, and I had finally had it with his behavior. I didn't know why I was doing him any favors when obviously he had some serious personal issues to deal with.

  I decided it was payback time, and it hurt me to have to bring Val and LW into it.

  "Hi, honey," I said in the best beaten-wife tone I could muster.

  "This is my husband, Nathan," I told Val and LW, "but you wouldn't know it because he refuses to wear his ring."

  "That's not true," Nathan said. Nathan meant it wasn't true that we were married, but it came out sounding as if it wasn't true that he actually refuses to wear his ring.

  "Junior, that's just plain disrespectful," LW blurted out. I loved that LW had referred to Nathan as Junior. This was turning into a real-live sitcom. Nathan was flustered. I jumped in before he could get his bearings.

  "It's just so hard. I mean, we've been married for two whole years and he won't even say my name on our outgoing voice mail message." I started to tear up at the thought of this.

  "Chelsea!" Nathan blurted.

  "Chelsea? Who the hell is Chelsea?" I asked.

  "Sorry . . . Beulah," he corrected himself. LW and Val looked at each other in horror. It was clear to us all that Nathan was having an affair.

  "Son, you need to get your head on straight here," cautioned LW. "Now, I don't mean any disrespect, but you have got one hell of a little lady here, and if you don't wake up and smell the cappuccino, somebody else will."

  I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Not only was a big black man defending my honor, he had referred to me as little.

  Even Nathan couldn't talk back to such an imposing force as LW. LW had James Earl Jones's exact voice and was well over six feet tall, with shoulders you could balance a midget on. Realizing he had no chance against this man, and that by resisting or trying to speak he would just come off looking like an asshole, Nathan had to surrender.

  "You're right," he said, with his head down where it belonged.

  "Now we're getting somewhere," James Earl Jones said.

  "It's just so hard because she works all the time," Nathan said, trying to turn the tables, but I wasn't about to let him overtake me.

  "What do you do, dear?" asked Val.

  "I work with the blind mostly. Some deafs too," I told her.

  Nathan spat a little of his drink out.

  "See that? He thinks it's funny. He makes fun of them," I said.

  "I do not think it's funny. I don't . . ." he told Val and LW, trying to regain composure. "I just... I just want her . . . to be home more."

  "I bear that," LW said.

  "Beulah, what exactly do you do with the blind?" Val asked.

  "I help them compete in relay races," was the next thing I said.

  LW put a piece of sushi in his mouth as Val looked at me with a furrowed brow. "And what do you do?" Val asked Nathan.

  "I manage musicians," he said.

  "Barely," I said. "He only has one band." This part was true, but now it made me look like the asshole. And I had a feeling Val and LW weren't buying my story and I needed to do some damage control.

  "I'm sorry, honey. I know you're trying, but what we do for a living isn't the problem. It's the time alone." I looked at Val and LW. "He never wants to have sex and when he does . . . well. . ."I drifted off so as to seem unsure about telling them.

  "What is it, dear?" asked Val.

  Nathan jumped in. "We have plenty of sex," he said haphazardly.

  "Yeah, but not the way I like it," I said, then looked at Val and LW with a victim's pained expression. "All he ever wants to do is anal."

  Nathan hopped up from the table and raced away as Val stared at me with horror in her eyes. LW lowered his head with one hand held over his forehead.

  "I should go find my husband," I said and excused myself.

  I strolled around for a few minutes, looking for David Stevenson. When I spotted him lingering by the buffet, I waved across the room and headed in his direction. He made a quick about-face and took off in the other direction.

  I went looking for Nathan and found him standing in a corner, with his arms crossed, talking to an older gentleman. I took out my head scarf that I had since been using as a napkin, wrapped it around my forehead, and tied it