The Invaders by Karolina Waclawiak Page A

protect you?” Jeffrey said to the ladies.
    â€œHow?” asked Teddy.
    They all giggled nervously as Jeffrey leaned back in his seat. “If your husbands don’t feel like protecting you, I will,” he said.
    They giggled even more.
    â€œIt’s my gentlemanly duty.” Jeffrey knew just what to say both to emasculate other men and be boastful. I waited for him to add something like “protect you from the Big Bad Wolf” or something cheesy like that. Porno bad. He didn’t watch those movies in front of me, but I could hear him sometimes. I’d put my ear against the door and hear a furious tugging and slapping. I don’t know why I listened. I was just glad he could still get it up. I wondered what he was thinking about, that’s all. Didn’t he know that we were both just masturbating in other rooms, far apart, wanting the same things, just unsure of how to get them from each other anymore?
    I stared at these women and wanted to know where their husbands were. I scanned the bar and looked at the line of men in polo knits. It looked like their wives had dressed them—muted yellows, blues, a few stripes. The older ones were hunched over scotches, defeated by wrinkles. The younger ones, the ones that I had started to like, hadclose-cropped haircuts, neat striped polos tucked into pressed khaki golf pants, and no overhanging guts. They were still talkative and postured for one another. They talked about their orthopedic surgery procedures from the week or maybe the legal proceedings they had taken part in. They looked like they still had some excitement about life left in them. Perhaps they could still be appreciative. Whatever the case, their wives were still slim and sitting next to them. I leaned in and put my arm around Jeffrey and he looked at me, wondering what I needed from him. I pulled my arm away as he scooted his chair forward.
    â€œOh, Jeffrey, Larry’s got nothing on you.”
    I looked up, raised an eyebrow. Nora, sixty-five and thick-legged. What was she doing with her short white hair and hip swivel? She was wearing long shorts that hit above the knee and bright pink lipstick. I was worried that she’d try to kiss him and leave a smear of pink on his cheek that I would have to wipe off.
    Her husband had left her and their twins the year before and now, after the divorce was finalized, she was still trying or perhaps just beginning to try to make her ex-husband, pale green polo at the bar, jealous. But he didn’t even turn around. Someone said they had heard her whispering “Do you want to fuck?” in the ear of a visiting sailor from Rhode Island. After that I heard her crying to a friend at the pool about the arrangements couples here made. Couples got bored, they needed to have some spice, but everyone was okay with it and everyone was supposed to go home when it was time to go home. Their arrangement had been compromised and her husband had stopped coming home. I looked around the room and wondered how many of these couples had an accepted tolerance for indiscretions among friends. Revelations like that had made me wonder why no one had ever asked me and Jeffrey to join them in various entanglements. Or had they asked Jeffrey and he’d declined? Or was I the only fool here without a willing extracurricular partner and marriage workaround? I’d considered the storiesabout boat trips to Block Island that ended up with mismatched cabin partners club folklore, never wanting to visualize, but maybe I was just being naive.
    I had to laugh. At least someone like my mother was honest about who she was. These women, eyeing one another like every friend had the potential to leave strands of hair behind in their bed.
    Bunny pulled Nora aside and the others clustered around, talking about safety.
    â€œIf anyone can get this problem under control, it’s Lori,” Leslie said.
    They looked at me and nodded and I knew that no matter how