Transitions

Chapter 1-2

The idyllic vision waiting for her at home made her wonder why she’d ever even left.

“How’d it go?” Tom Alan was down on the floor, his knees to his chest, no shoes or socks or shirt, just a pair of blue jeans. Muscles rippled and the smallest paunch of gut contracted and jiggled every time he giggled with Etsuko. The name meant “joy” and it surely fit. As she stared up at him from atop his bent legs, she reached for the MTA coin on a lanyard nestled in the hair in the concave of his chest. The idea for the symbolic jewelry had come to Tom Alan’s romantic partner in a train car. It was given their first Christmas with a promise they would never be farther than a train ride apart for more than a few days. “Was this one your soul mate?” he asked.

“The busboy was more intriguing.” Erika joined them on the floor after kicking off her shoes. “Jimbo and I ran out of things to talk about before the bread came.” She tickled the sole of Tom Alan’s foot with her toe as two black and copper cats scrambled up into her lap. “He was a real jerk, actually.”

“What will this little girl want to be?” Tom Alan asked out of nowhere, not the slightest bit interested in the response to his question.

“The fifth female president in a row.”

“Aim high.”

“Or…just happy,” Erika said. “That’s all any of us want. Happy and not alone.”

“Aww.”

“She been fussy?”

“Uh-uh.”

“She will be if you hold her all the time.”

“I don’t get to babysit much lately,” Tom Alan said.

“Whose fault is that?”

Though they had taken off two full competitive seasons following the 2014 Olympics and World Championships, Tom Alan continued to hop continents to provide competitive skating commentary on Japanese television and perform in ice shows—mostly solo. Borne of figure skating royalty, Nobuo and Kyoko Tsuchino, Tom Alan and Erika were a celebrity super couple over there. Half the country had swooned when they’d wed, and though most of their fans had eventually forgiven Tom Alan when the marriage fell apart, some still berated him online.

“I’ll be home a while now.”

“Where’s the Brit?”

“He went to bed early.” Tom Alan and Milo had their own apartment, but stayed at the family home often, the one Erika’s mother had purchased in Westchester County New York in the summer of 2014. Nestled in the middle of five secluded acres, it was not only closer to the practice rink where Erika and Tom Alan trained, but also to the train station where Milo was always arriving from or heading to NYU, where he was studying to become a forensic psychologist. “We had a spat.”

“Ku areba raku ari.”

“I guess,” Tom Alan said.

It had been one of Erika’s father’s favorite expressions—”There are hardships, and there are delights.” His translation, his meaning, was more along the lines of “When life seems too good, expect something bad.”

“I got a commercial in Japan for breakfast cereal and he doesn’t want me to take it. He says I have enough jobs, and if I really need to take on anymore, they should be here in the States.”

“So much for staying home a while.”

“It’s an extra few days when we’re already over there for NHK. I figure I should strike when and where the iron’s hot, right? As long as we plan ahead…I made sure I had nothing going on from now until fall. I’m all his until he has to go for two weeks in September.”

“Just…his?” Tom Alan didn’t even glance over, so Erika tickled his foot some more. That got him to look at her.

“Everyone’s,” he said.

“That’s better. So I suppose tonight you and Milo will be having make-up s*x instead of just regular s*x?”

Milo bragged about their nightly ritual every morning. “I’m not wasting a moment with this honking yank’s honking dank when we’re in the same time zone.” Milo was crude, funny, juvenile, and adorable. “We’ll leave the door ajar, in case you’d like to watch.” Erika loved him almost as much as she loved Tom Alan—”Since, you know, you’re not getting any—” even when he was a b***h. The duo hadn’t skipped a night in the five days they’d been staying at the house. The HVAC system had recently been overhauled. Though Erika had never taken Milo up on his offer to peek in, now she could hear them through the heat vent in her room.

“Shh.” Tom Alan covered the little one’s ears. “And yeah.” He raised both brows suggestively. “There are only six weeks of summer left. Ko-in ya no gotoshi.” Tom Alan’s Japanese wasn’t as good as Erika’s. She’d been raised with it from day one, whereas he’d been quite a bit older when Nobuo Tsuchino had taken him in as a skater and a son. Either way, she had to agree. Time did fly.

“I’m a little jealous.” Erika admitted her feelings with a smile. “I want what you have.”

Tom Alan laughed when Etsuko giggled, both of them caught up in their own little world.

“She adores you.”

“The feeling is mutual. I couldn’t love her more if she was mine.”

Tom Alan had been right there holding Erika’s hand as baby Etsuko made her way into the world. Milo held the other, though it had been touch and go for both.

“Get your sweet arse back here, Skater Boy!” Milo had shouted into the phone, panicking even as Erika remained calm.

Tom Alan had been at the airport, just about to board a plane for Shanghai to cover The ISU Grand Prix Cup of China when Erika had gone into labor a couple weeks early. “She’s not due until next month,” he’d said.

“The baby doesn’t seem to care about the calendar, love. I’ve put up with mood swings, and cravings, and uncontrollable crying when I make tea, as if it’s a gesture of kindness akin to rescuing a puppy from under a tractor, but there’s no way in bloody hell I’m goin’ anyways near Flower’s fanny to yank out her redheaded baby.”

“Fanny.” Tom Alan had laughed, despite his nerves and excitement, as he’d sprinted through Stewart International Airport, grateful he wasn’t midair, at least in his retelling. “You do know that’s not where babies come from in America, right?”

Erika smiled at the memory nearly two years later. “Jimbo wanted to know if I was ever married.”

“Jimbo?” Tom Alan asked. “Seriously?”

“James or Jim, I assume. I didn’t ask.”

Tom Alan was still making faces at Etsuko. “You could always date the busboy.”

“I don’t think so.” Erika removed the two kitties, stood, and held out her hands for the baby.

“Already? And what was wrong with the busboy? You some sort of dating snob?”

Erika sighed. “The busboy was a kid. Plus…”

“Plus what?” Tom Alan asked, as he stood and handed over Etsuko.

“I have a feeling any interest in me wouldn’t extend beyond the ice.”

“Ah. Been there, over that, with the gay guys, huh?”

“Not completely.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go say goodnight to obaasan, Etsuko.”

“Tell Kyoko goodnight for me, too,” Tom Alan said. “Good afternoon, I guess. I thought once your mother was settled in the U.S., she’d be here for good.”

“Me, too. As long as she’s happy…”

Etsuko wrapped her tiny hand around Tom Alan’s finger even as Erika held her. “I wonder if her hair will stay red.”

The baby looked like both her parents, half Japanese, half Irish American. Biology was a miraculous thing.

“I hope so,” Erika said. “Tell Goddaddy night-night.”

“Goddaddy? That’s my official title? Sounds like an Al Pacino movie written by Tina Fey.”

“It’ll do for tonight.” Erika held the baby up for Tom Alan to smooch. “We’ll figure it all out before she can talk.” If Erika didn’t know how to classify her relationship with Tom Alan, how would Etsuko? “Goodnight. And keep it down.”

“Can’t make no promises.” When Tom Alan stretched, his jeans slid partway down. “Make-up s*x can get loud.”

And it did. After all of eight minutes, Erika ended up in the nursery again, away from the vent that carried the sound of arguing, then lip smacking, and then a couple of loud groans she envisioned coming from Tom Alan as Milo took his d**k down his throat. She ended up with a crick in her neck she rubbed as she stood outside the bathroom door the next morning counting the cherry blossom petals on the wallpaper.

“Come on, Milo! I’m late.” She was ready to drop off Etsuko with her daddy, but someone’s primping was holding her up.

“Use one of the other loos.”

“I don’t need the loo. I need Etsuko’s bag, which I left on the counter.”

“Hold up. I’m brushing my teeth.”

She heard running water. “And that calls for a locked door?”

“I’m in my undies.”

“I’ve seen you in underwear—often. every morning. Come on!”

“I’m also pissing.”

“Eww.” Now she heard that, too. “While brushing your teeth?”

“I got two hands, Flower.” Milo called her that because of the old figure skating saying, the one stating the male partner was the stem and the female the flower. “Only need one for each.”

“That shortcoming’s Tom Alan’s problem, not mine. Open the door.” She heard a flush and then the sound of the knob, a word she often used when referring to Tom Alan’s mate. “Men are gross.” She shoved past the one in tight, bee-striped boxer briefs and reached for her tote.

“I love you, too.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“Wash your hands.”

“My hands came nowhere near you. And my lips last touched willie hours ago.”

Erika couldn’t help but grin. “Pig.”

“Will you never forgive me for stealing your husband right out from under you?” Milo put a hand to his out-of-control bedhead. “You’re a beautiful girl. I promise someday you’ll meet ano—Oomph!”

“Sorry.” When the overstuffed purple paisley bag hit him a second time as she strutted through the door, her smile broadened. “By-ee.”

As Erika trudged through slow morning traffic on her way to Billy’s, a remaining hint of Tom Alan’s cologne from when he’d kissed Etsuko goodbye had her eager to get back into his arms on the ice. The one time they’d made love, it was awkward but gentle, so loving but also sad. She’d lain beside him naked afterwards, and clothed in the nights that followed, as they’d held one another as the only constant each had after so much loss. Even if they never shared another s****l moment, there was an intimacy between them no one else could ever come close to replicating. She imagined it, though—f*****g him. She wouldn’t mind his tentative nature—Tom Alan could be so bashful—as he teased her first with just one digit, then wet her with his mouth. She would love to feel the full weight of his six foot six body atop her again as he thrust in and out, so lost and comfortable as things progressed he’d forget to be timid. Tom Alan was huge. She barely came to his chest. The sounds he made with Milo, imagining them against her ear as they came together, the fantasy had often brought her there by herself. She was ready to give in to it now, except the light changed, so she had to move on, in traffic and in life.

Admittedly fickle, once Erika arrived at Billy’s, it was all about him. The sight of Etsuko cradled in his massive arms, burrowed into his burly chest, was still something beautiful to see.

“Hi, baby girl. Daddy missed you.” Billy was a good seven inches shorter than Tom Alan. He wore a Boston Bruins T-shirt and boxer shorts, and his pale, white legs flecked with red wisps were bruised and scarred from another recent hockey game. Erika had called before she’d left the house. Billy was forty minutes away. He’d had plenty of time to put on pants. “Grandma is gonna bring Tuxedo and Mama over later. Yes she is.”

Etsuko bounced excitedly.

“She loves those dogs.”

“They love her, too.” Billy had adopted four dogs out to Wahl family members after a tour in Afghanistan between high school and college. “Sometimes I think we still could have come up with a better name for her.” Mama was the mother of the other three. She was all black. Tuxedo, Domino, and Oreo were all black and white. “You wanna come in a while?”

“Training.” Erika hooked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Just a minute or so. You never answered my text last night.”

“Oh. I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’ll be quick,” Billy said.

Erika looked at him, then stepped inside. Billy’s apartment—the second one he’d shared with Milo when both moved downstate—was all beige, except for Etsuko’s pink swing, pink playpen, and a large pink teddy bear. Milo hadn’t been there long enough to add much decorative flair. Erika also saw a blue book. A text book—French. Billy was studying to become a veterinarian. Why was he learning French?

“You gonna sit?” The careless way he did, after plopping Etsuko in her swing in front of Bubble Guppies on the TV, offered a view of himself Erika fondly remembered: its taste, and girth in her tightness. Was he doing it on purpose?

“I’ll stand.”

If he was he horny, hoping for a quickie, before Erika took off to spend four hours on her feet or being hurled across the rink…Fat chance.