If anyone asked Johnny if he'd be having sex the evening after his father's funeral, he might have said, "Only if Val was up for it." Except Val wouldn't have been up for it, he knew. Very little made Val up for it lately, and going from genuine grief (because she loved his dad almost as much as her own father) to being ready for sex in the same day would have taken the same effort, for her, as climbing Mount Everest. For Johnny, it would have been the opposite; death would have inspired him to reach for any pleasure he could, to remind himself he was still alive, and what better pleasure could be had in the world?
So, here he was, with Melody again, after Val left Joe's house in a fury, with no reconciliation in sight.
To Johnny's relief, he was able to finish this time, also after another exhausting session that included the shower as a setting; Melody got her wish, but he came dangerously close to throwing his back out. He realized that he wasn't as strong and limber as he used to be. Was this why Val wasn't up for it anymore? Was he a disappointment in her eyes, now? Was he no longer her tall, slim, broad-shouldered basketball star? Had she become too content with treating him as a partner and a breadwinner? Had he ceased arousing her as a lover?
Val had thrown the fact, that she'd gone to another man's house to have sex, in his face with a bitter sort of relish that made Johnny sad rather than angry. He knew she was only doing it to get him back. She never even told him the guy's name. He knew for her sex was the extremest form of intimacy, that for her to just go out and sleep with a stranger would have taken a force of will akin to that of an airplane traveler with a fear of flying white-knuckling it into an airport with a landing strip jutting dangerously into the sea. She would have been clenched throughout the session, disappointing her lover as well as herself. She wouldn't have enjoyed it.
Johnny wondered briefly whom she would have chosen for this revenge fling. Was he better looking than Johnny? Not a high bar to clear anymore, but he didn't think he was at the bottom end of the scale for looks either, not if Melody wanted him.
And she did. After an hour of cuddling after that marathon, she was climbing on top of him again, and he hoped he'd had enough time to recharge.
"Did I tell you how glad I am that you messaged me tonight?" she asked again.
He'd done so in desperation after Val had torn away from Joe's house, unwilling to tell him where she was going or with whom. She'd been coldly formal up until then, putting on a show for Mom's sake, but he knew she'd been about to blow even before she exploded at Joanie, of all people. Lauren, to her credit, had done her best to help them communicate while they'd been on the lawn, but Val wouldn't be moved. Vic and Tilly had been alarmed at her exit, of course, and become more so when their mother hadn't responded to their texts asking if she was okay.
"I'm glad you still wanted to see me after my confession on Saturday," he said as he ran his hands down her back and squeezed her considerable behind.
"You haven't reconciled with your wife yet?"
"No. I think things are even worse now."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It was my dad's funeral today."
Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, and my wife caught me talking to my brother and his friends in the office, and she started screaming at one of them when she should have been screaming at me."
Melody grimaced, and she climbed off him, having lost her ardour. Johnny couldn't blame her. "Look," she said, "I've been where your wife is right now, so I don't think I want to be your sounding board for complaints about her."
"I'm sorry. I'll stop. Really, she was just angry because I wasn't being a good host, that I was leaving her to do it, but at the moment I'd been telling Joe's friends about something I'd seen on the slideshow we had projecting against the wall."
"Again, I don't need to hear this."
He'd almost forgotten about the conversation he'd had with Joe and his friends in that office. In the fallout from the apocalyptic argument he'd had with Val, and then the desperate grasp for some way to salvage this day, he'd pushed the existence of those photos, and what they represented, to the back of his mind.
He could have convinced himself, and indeed he had, that what he'd experienced in 1979 had been nothing more than a brief hallucination, or a waking nightmare. Even the presence of Al could have been explained away as just another of those unreal turns that happened in dreams. Even the way he'd talked, as if nothing about their situation had been troubling or even a surprise, had resembled the nonsense conversation that happened in dreams. He wouldn't even have been surprised if Al had started talking backwards like those aliens, or whatever they were, did in those surreal scenes in Twin Peaks, that show from the Nineties.
If he'd never seen those photos projected on the wall, he might never have given that day another thought until the day he died. But now here he was, with a woman who wanted to have sex with him, a woman he was starting to like a lot, and instead of wondering what this meant for his marriage, he was remembering that day and getting spooked all over again.
"Look, Johnny," she began.
When they'd first started texting, she'd written, don't you ever go by John? It had been a sensible question, but he never had. He'd written, because my Italian name is Giovanni, it's more natural for everyone who knows me to call me Johnny, because it rhymes.
"I like you," she said, "and I just want to have fun with you. If you're going to get morose, I'd prefer you did that somewhere else."
"Fair enough," he said, a little hurt, picturing returning to his mother's house to sleep in a little while; he'd have plenty of time to be morose then. Melody had offered to let him stay the night with her, but he couldn't imagine telling Mom where he'd been all night, because he couldn't lie to her. He still had to have a conversation with her about moving out of her house, and just thinking about it made him tired; where would she go if Val didn't want him back in the house?
She ran a hand along his chest, then let it trail lower, and he felt himself stir.
"Are you back in the moment, now?" she asked, voice husky.
"Yup," he said, reaching for her. "Climb back on top of me, I liked that."
She did, and he wrapped his arms around her, but just as they were getting going, his phone rang.
He wasn't going to get up and get it. Not with this lovely woman on top of him, a woman who was so generous with her time and her body, who asked for so little in return. He continued to give her neck and breasts attention, but she eventually stopped writhing when the phone played its stock marimba chime for the fifth time. "You should probably get that," she said, rolling off.
He sighed in frustration and said, "Sorry."
He climbed off the bed and walked to the chair over which his pants were draped, reaching into the pocket for his phone.
It was Val.
Shit.
What were the chances Melody would get offended if he accepted a call from his wife while both of them were naked and she was waiting for him to get back to bed?
He sent the call to voicemail and put the phone on silent, then put it back in his pocket.
"Who was it?" Melody asked.
"A one-eight-hundred number," Johnny lied. "Probably a telemarketer."
"Good, now get back here."
He hurried back to the bed, and this time they were off to the races.
On his way home, he finally remembered to check his phone.
Shit. Val had left a voicemail.
He pulled over and put the car in park before playing the voicemail.
Val's voice was weak and dull, and this scared him more than her fury.
"Johnny, I'm going away for a while. Move your mom into the house if you want because I won't be there."
That was it. The robotic voice said, "End of message," and then gave him the option to save or delete it. Johnny played it again. Only twenty-one words, and the exhaustion in those words, like a picture, conveyed the thousand she could have said.
Horrified, he called her right away, but the call went straight to voicemail. That would only happen if she'd immediately declined her call or if she'd turned her phone off.
He tried again. Once again, straight to voicemail.
He hurried home, and while he was driving, his phone rang. Hoping it was Val, he looked over at the phone on his seat, but saw that it was Mom, probably wondering where he was. She must be home from going out with her contemporaries. He couldn't talk to her now, he had to find Val, and even though she'd said she wouldn't be there, he had to start there.
He pulled into his driveway. The house was dark. No one was home. It wasn't a surprise, really. Vic and Tilly would be out with friends after enduring a funeral with mostly old people to talk to; their cousins Naomi and Tosh were too young to relate to, and Logan, to Johnny's surprise, hadn't sought Tilly out that day, as he sometimes did because they hung out occasionally, but had seemed content to hang out with the younger kids.
The darkness had an ominous quality now, though, because of Val's announcement. However angry she might have been at him, Johnny had always assumed that remaining in the house, surrounded by her loving sons, would have been her one priority. The voicemail, however, suggested a woman whose priorities had been overturned, because her spirit had been broken, and it was all his fault.
He unlocked his door and turned on every light in the house. He needed to dispel the darkness, because it was scaring him; only a couple of weeks ago he would have walked into a dark house with no thought to its significance, assuming everybody would be home eventually. They always came come. He might have complained about Vic and Tilly needing to leave the nest, but secretly he thought he would feel their absence like a missing tooth if they ever did move out, and Val, he knew, would be beside herself. That was why her voicemail scared him. She'd said, "I'm going away," not, "We're going away." Just her.
Callie, their black lab, got up from her bed and padded over to him, wagging her tail. She was here, at least. "Hey, girl," he said, crouching and rubbing her with both hands. "Where's Mamma, eh? Where's Mamma?"
Callie whined and nuzzled his chest. He walked into the mudroom and checked her bowls. They still had food and water in them, so either Val or the boys must have fed her before he got home. He wondered if she needed a walk. She didn't go to any of the doors to indicate she needed to go out and do her business. He decided someone must have walked her, because he didn't have time to do it now. He had to find out what happened to Val.
He flew up to their room and turned on the light. On their bed lay Val's phone, turned off.
Fuck.
He turned it on and immediately saw notifications about the missed calls from him, but he also saw a few texts from Vic and Tilly, asking where she was, as well as notifications about missed phone calls from them. They were concerned about her, too, but where the hell were they?
Then he saw a few messages from the Tinder app, communications from someone named Grant Clutchey.
Grant?
Clutchey?
What kind of a name was that? It was so... Anglo.
He glanced at the messages out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to look at them directly. He knew what their content would be, and just from the one or two words he saw, he was right.
Val knew his passcode. That was how she'd caught him. He knew hers. It was for emergencies, in case the other was away from their phone and needed help. Johnny thought this counted as an emergency. He wondered what Val had considered an emergency when she'd opened his phone and found the evidence of his adultery.
He opened her phone. Nothing else stood out for him besides the numbers in red hovering over the icons for the messenger, phone and Tinder apps.
He braced himself and opened Tinder. He ignored her profile and the messages and looked at this Grant Clutchey fellow. He had to see whom she'd chosen in his stead.
He looked like a perfectly plain middle-aged man, maybe a little older than her. Salt and pepper hair, more hair than Johnny had, which immediately made him jealous. Pictures of him in a suit and tie. A businessman? Pictures of him with a fish. He fished? Was this the kind of man Val could sleep with?
Except the phone was here on her bed, without her. She'd left it there, powered off, and it had to have been on purpose, so that he couldn't find her; he could have used that Find My Friends app, or whatever it was called, the one Lauren had once used to find Joe's phone a few years ago, to trace Val's phone, but she must have known that. The thing was, she'd left it with those amorous Tinder messages unread, so Mr. Grant Clutchey also didn't know where she was, unless she'd just gone over to him without her phone, but why would she do that? She probably wasn't sleeping with him right now, if she hadn't read those messages, and Johnny didn't think she'd want to be without her phone if she was with someone she didn't know very well, just in case she found herself in danger.
Johnny couldn't imagine going anywhere without his phone; it had all his contacts on it, both business and personal. He couldn't live without it. He remembered with a bitter smile when nobody had a cell phone, and if they needed to get in contact with anyone they used a payphone, assuming whoever they were calling was home, because only landlines existed back then, and to be able to answer one you'd have to be home. Without her phone, Val was in the wind, adrift.
She must have had her car; he hadn't seen it in the driveway. If she was going somewhere, she'd use it and pay for what she needed when she got there, hopefully on a credit card. He could track her expenses and see where she was.
That reminded him. He went into the walk-in closet and found a set of luggage missing, and lots of her clothes off their hangers. She'd packed before leaving. She must have made that final phone call before putting the phone on the bed and leaving. If he'd picked up, would she have changed her mind? If he'd picked up, would she have asked him to convince her to stay? If only he could have gone back in time. If only he'd answered that phone and not been in a hurry to go back to Melody's bed.
He looked on top of her dresser and nightstand. He didn't find her rings on top of either of them. He checked the bathroom just in case, but didn't find them there either. That had to be a good sign, right? If she hadn't left her rings, she would come back eventually, right? At least long enough to begin divorce proceedings, if that was what she wanted. All that mattered to him now was that she was safe and not thinking of doing anything drastic.
Suddenly Val's phone rang in his hand. He checked the display and saw it was Vic. He answered it. "Hey, Vic."
"Dad? Is that you?" Vic asked, confused.
"Yeah, it's me. I have Mom's phone."
"Why doesn't Mom have Mom's phone? We've tried calling her a bunch of times, but she never picked up."
"She left her phone at home. She's not here."
"What do you mean? She's out without her phone?"
"That's right. Did she say anything to you after she left your Zio's house?"
"She just sent a text saying she needed to be alone for a while and not to worry. That was hours ago, though. She hasn't come home?"
"Well, I think she did, but she packed some luggage and left again, without her phone."
Vic was quiet for a long time, and Johnny thought for a brief moment that they'd been disconnected. "Vic?" he asked.
"What's going on, Dad?"
Johnny sank onto the bed and sighed. "I think she's gone somewhere. Maybe a hotel."
"Why?"
"She's angry at me."
"No shit, Dad. Why?"
He felt about as wretched as it was possible to feel. "I cheated on her."
"Jesus Christ," Vic hissed.
"I have no excuse."
"No. You don't. Goddammit, Dad, what the fuck?!"
Telling Vic she'd found her own side piece wouldn't do any good right now; it would only make Vic angrier at him for forcing her into getting revenge, and it would give him the wrong idea about where she might be right now.
"Look, I just thought of something," Johnny said. "She might have gone to your other Nonni's house to stay for a while. I think she needs time alone right now."
Vic huffed in frustration. "Are you getting a divorce?"
Hearing anyone else ask that wouldn't have brought on the tears the way hearing it from his first born did. "I don't know," he croaked. "That's up to her."
"Yeah, great, Dad, you made it be up to her. If you weren't happy, why didn't you do marriage counselling or something, like Zio and Zia did?" He was referring to Joe and Lauren.
"I wasn't unhappy," he said, but his voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
"You just wanted to sleep with someone other than Mom, is that it? Oh, Jesus..." Vic actually sounded like he was retching.
"Look, Vic," he said, because he needed to get his son out of this apparent panic attack, "call your other Nonno and Nonna. Ask them if she's there. They still have a landline so if they answer, they'll be home."
"And if she's not there?" Vic said.
"Then I hope to God she used a credit card in the last few hours, maybe to book a hotel room, because I don't know where else she would stay."
"What about you, Dad? What are you going to do? Are you going to stay there?"
He sighed and said, "Maybe. First I have to call Nonna, because she called me as I was driving here."
"Oh, yeah? And where have you been these last few hours, while Mom's been missing?"
He didn't answer.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, you weren't with your mistress, were you?" Johnny exclaimed.
"I'm not going to lie to you."
"That's great, that's just fucking great. You know what? I can't talk to you right now. I'll phone Nonno and Nonna Reginato and see if she's there. I'll call you back once I get an answer."
"Okay. Thanks, Vic."
He hung up. Johnny looked at his wife's phone for a few seconds, then put it back on the bed and phoned Mom with his own phone, dreading the conversation he was about to have with her while sitting alone in this dark, empty house, with only a dog for company.
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Let's flash back to Johnny in the summer of '79, and an unexpected phone call from Joe, by clicking on "Continue reading."