A Boob

As it turned out, Shawna's JC Superstar audition was coming up in about a month. It wasn't much time to prepare, but considering her voice wasn't at ground zero, the time frame was doable. I rearranged my schedule a little and managed to slot her in for three coaching sessions a week: Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Shawna informed me that she was currently living with family in Richmond, saving up money, and she had a bar-tending job in the evenings and so could only come in during the day, while my other students would be in school.

I didn't mind coming in early; in the time between Shawna's lessons in the early afternoon and my other students in the early evening, I would drive down Number Three Road and head into the nearest shopping complex to buy a cup of coffee from Starbucks. I'd sit by the window, drinking ridiculously over-priced lattes, and try to sort out just what I'd gotten myself into.

When Shawna came in for her lessons, we were more or less alone in the building. I didn't have a definitive feeling about that. There were two extremes pulling in me, wreaking worrisome havoc in my heart and in my head. One part of me deliciously enjoyed the notion of being alone with Shawna, and this made me feel like a perverse, but guilt-ridden monster. When we were together, I was constantly trying to not picture Shawna naked and that was proving a near impossible task. I was a complete slave to my hormones, feeling all these sexual impulses and fighting tooth and nail not to act upon them and end up making a mess of everything. I hadn't felt that way since I was a teenager.

So it stood to reason that the other part of me was terrified of this whole thing with Shawna. I didn't want to just throw out my marriage with Carolyn, but at the same time I didn't want to give up the sweet feeling of anticipation that something physical would suddenly blossom between Shawna and me. I knew it wasn't realistic and quite stupid to obsess over the possibility that one session of unscrupulous love-making with Shawna would be so beautiful that I'd forget Carolyn and feel completely uninhibited and free to do whatever I pleased. The delusion was borderline dangerous. But I just couldn't give it up.

On a Thursday morning, two weeks into my sessions with Shawna, I did something I don't usually do. While Carolyn was in the shower, I went into the bathroom. Usually, I leave Carolyn to her privacy, but my mind was focused on only one thing that morning and foggy to everything else.

I was digging around in the drawers underneath the set of mirrors. I heard Carolyn turn off the shower, pull her towel off the rack near the bathtub, and then push the blue and white striped shower curtain along its steel rod. We'd bought the curtain together at Pier 1 Imports five years ago. I don't like to think about how expensive the damn thing was.

"Oh. Thom, what are you doing-"

"Have you seen my contacts?" I asked, frowning as I bent down to rifle around in the back of the far right drawer. I was just coming up with Q-tips. We had about a thousand Q-tips. What was up with that?

I heard Carolyn moving behind me, the gentle, rhythmic sound of the heavy bath towel rubbing against her skin. A few seconds later, she was beside me with her towel firmly wrapped around her body.

"Something wrong with your glasses?" she asked, mildly curious, as she opened the centre mirror to reveal the medicine cabinet behind it.

"Nothing," I said. Where the hell were my contacts? I made a frustrated sound, sort of a grunt, and side-stepped around Carolyn's body to look in the drawers on the other side of her.

I continued to scrounge around fruitlessly while Carolyn went along with her bathroom routine. Eventually, she decided to intervene and save me from my searching and grumbling. She gently pushed me out of the way and opened a drawer I'd already torn apart. She picked through a small basket that held eyeglasses' cleaner and some soft cloths and then plucked out my contact lenses case. She handed the case to me.

"Oh. Thanks," I muttered, frowning and opening the case.

"Try looking past your nose next time," she said with a kind sigh and tapped my nose with her index finger.

I walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I went over to Carolyn's make up vanity and I forced my contacts on my pupils past my flinching, fussy eyes. They'd gotten used to my square glasses, but I was determined to wear the contacts.

I left the townhouse shortly after Carolyn. I hadn't told her about my schedule change and suspected that I wouldn't ever tell her. I drove to the music school and parked in my usual spot. I got out and looked around. I'd grown to enjoy having the parking lot practically to myself, spare a few cars near the back of the lot. I walked into the building and greeted the receptionist, Holly, something I didn't usually do. I nodded and smiled at her most times, but I said "good morning" to her that day. She coughed on her mouthful of coffee, surprised I was greeting her, since I normally didn't say anything. She gave me a quick wave as I walked by.

I unlocked my class room and entered it, kicking the door shut behind me. I tossed my attaché case on the long desk and yanked open the blinds on the windows, letting in the pale winter sunshine. I turned around and uncovered the grand piano's keyboard. I sat down, cracked my knuckles for the hell of it, and started playing some "Toccata and Fugue", to get in the mood.