Rogue

“Maybe. If I'm around. But I won't let your friends drink here if they're under age. I could get in a lot of trouble for that, particularly if something went wrong, or someone got hurt. It's just not a good idea.” Maxine was a person who believed in rules, and followed them to the letter. Her children knew that about her, and so did everyone else, including Blake.

Daphne didn't comment. She'd heard the speech before, when they discussed it. She knew that other parents had much looser rules, some had none at all, and some were like her mom. It was the luck of the draw. Sam appeared in the doorway then in his turkey costume, looking for his mother.

“Do I have to have a bath tonight, Mom? I was real careful. I didn't get dirty at all today.” Maxine smiled in answer, and Daphne turned up the TV, which was the signal to her mother that she'd heard enough and didn't want to hear more. Maxine bent to kiss her and left the room with her youngest son.

“I don't care how careful you were today. Yes, you have to take a bath.”

“That sucks.” Zelda was waiting with an ominous look, and Maxine left Sam to her, stopped in to see Jack, who swore he had done his homework, and went back to her own room, and turned on the TV. It was a nice, quiet, easy night at home, the kind she loved best.

She thought about what Daphne had said to her, that she never went out. It wasn't entirely true. She went to dinner parties occasionally, given by old friends, or couples from their married days. She went to the opera, theater, and ballet, though not as much as she should have, she knew. It seemed like such an effort, and she loved staying home after a long day. She went to movies with her children, and medical dinners she couldn't get out of. But she knew what Daphne meant and she was right. Maxine hadn't had a date in a year. It bothered her sometimes, particularly when she was aware of the passage of time. She was forty-two years old, after all, and hadn't had a serious man in her life since Blake. She dated once in a while, but she hadn't met anyone who set her bells and sirens off in years, and she didn't have much opportunity to meet them. She was either at work or with her kids, and most of the other physicians she met were married, or looking to cheat on their wives, which wasn't what she wanted, or would do. Eligible, appealing men in their forties and fifties were few and far between. All the good ones were married, or appeared to be, and what was left floating around were guys who had “issues” or intimacy problems, who were gay or commitment phobic, or wanted to date women half her age. Finding a man to have a relationship with was not as easy as it looked, and she wasn't losing sleep over it. She figured that if it was meant to happen one day, it would. And in the meantime, she was fine like this.

When she and Blake first broke up, she had always assumed she'd find someone else, maybe even get married again, but now that seemed less and less likely every year. Blake was the one swinging from the chandeliers, enjoying an active dating life, with gorgeous young girls. Maxine was sitting home night after night, with her children and their nanny, and she wasn't sure she wanted it any other way. She certainly wouldn't have traded time with her children for a hot date. And in the end, what was so bad about this? For an instant, she allowed herself to think of nights in her husband's arms, dancing with him, laughing with him, walking on the beach with him, and making love. It was a little scary thinking that she might never have sex again, or even be kissed. But if that was the way things shook out for her, then she was fine like this. She had her kids. What else did she need? She always told herself that was enough.

She was still thinking about it, when Sam walked in fresh from his bath, in clean pajamas and bare feet, with damp hair smelling of shampoo, and hopped onto her bed. “Whatcha thinking about, Mom? You look sad.” What he said startled her out of her reverie as she smiled at him.

“I'm not sad, sweetheart. I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Grown-up stuff?” he asked with interest, as he turned up the volume of the TV with the remote.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” At least he didn't invent a gorilla this time, and she smiled at him.

“Sure. Sounds good to me.” She loved it when he slept with her. He cuddled up next to her, and it gave them both the comfort they needed. With small, yummy Sam in her bed at night, tucked in next to her, what else could she possibly want? No date or passing romance or relationship could ever be as sweet.

Chapter 4

On Thanksgiving morning Maxine checked on the children in each of their rooms. Daphne was lying on her bed talking to a friend on the cell phone, which had officially been returned to her. She was still on restriction and had no social life, but at least she had her phone life back. Jack was in front of his computer, wearing a blue shirt, gray slacks, and a blazer, and Maxine helped him tie his tie. And Sam was still in his pajamas, glued to the TV, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Zelda had left earlier to spend the day with a friend who worked for a family in Westchester, and was doing Thanksgiving lunch for a bunch of nannies she knew. They were a special breed, who gave their lives to the children they cared for and loved, and had none of their own.

Maxine got Sam's clothes out for him and reminded Daphne to get off the phone and get dressed. Her daughter walked into her bathroom with her cell phone still glued to her ear and slammed the door. And Maxine walked back into her own room to get ready. She was planning to wear a beige pantsuit with a matching cashmere turtleneck sweater and high heels. She pulled the sweater over her head, and started brushing her hair.

Ten minutes later Sam came in, with his shirt buttoned wrong, his fly open, and his hair sticking up all over the place, and she grinned.

“Do I look okay?” he asked confidently, as she brushed his hair down, and told him to zip up his fly.

“Oh,” he said with a grin, as she buttoned his shirt for him, and told him to get his tie. He made a face. “Do I have to wear that too? It strangles me.”

“Then we won't tie it so tight. Grampa always wears a tie, and Jack is wearing one today.”

“Daddy never wears a tie,” Sam countered with a look of pain.

“Yes, he does.” Maxine held firm. Blake looked great in a suit. “He does when he goes out.”

“Not anymore.”

“Well, you have to on Thanksgiving. And don't forget to get your loafers out.” She knew that otherwise, he would want to wear his running shoes to lunch at his grandparents'. As he went back to his own room to get his tie and shoes, Daphne appeared in the doorway in a short black miniskirt, black stockings, and high heels. She had come to her mother's room to borrow another sweater, her favorite pink one, and tiny diamonds sparkled in her pierced ears. Maxine had given them to her for her thirteenth birthday and allowed her to have her ears pierced. Now she wanted a second set of holes in her ears. “Everyone” had two pierces at least at school. So far Maxine hadn't given in, and her daughter looked lovely with her dark hair brushed softly around her face. Maxine handed over the pink sweater, just as Sam walked in with his shoes and a mystified expression.

“I can't find my tie,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yes, you can. Go back and look again,” Maxine said firmly.

“I hate you,” he said, the expected response, as Maxine got into her suit, slipped into high heels, and put pearl earrings on.

Half an hour later, they were all dressed, both boys had their ties on, with ski parkas over their blazers, and Daphne was wearing a short black coat with a little fur collar that Blake had given her for her birthday. They looked neat, respectable, and well dressed, and walked the short distance down Park Avenue to their grandparents' apartment. Daphne wanted to take a cab, but Maxine said the walk would do them good. It was a beautiful sunny November day, and the children were all looking forward to their father's arrival that afternoon. He was flying in from Paris, and they were due at his apartment in time for dinner. Maxine had agreed to go along. It would be nice to see Blake.

The doorman at her parents' apartment building wished them all a happy Thanksgiving as they got into the elevator. Maxine's mother was waiting for them at the door when they got out. She looked strikingly like Maxine, in an older, slightly heavier version, and Maxine's father was standing just behind her with a broad smile.

“My, my,” he said kindly, “what a good-looking group you are.” He kissed his daughter first, shook hands with the boys, while Daphne kissed her grandmother, and then smiled at her grandfather, while he gave her a hug.

“Hi, Grampa,” she said softly, and they followed their grandparents into the living room. Their grandmother had done several beautiful arrangements of fall flowers, and the apartment looked as neat and elegant as ever. Everything was impeccable and in good order, and the children sat down politely on the couch and chairs. They