“All our affairs seem to be in order,” William told her that evening over coffee. “And profits should be high this year.”
The family had just convened for the annual board meeting, which was always a gala event. Penelope was glad that it was over, or almost so. The patriarch had left, and so had all of William’s brothers and uncles. Only a few distant cousins remained in town.
The family was a large one, having grown significantly over recent generations. And as luck would have it, the family business had at the same time expanded until it was now a small empire with so many different branches that Penelope found it difficult to explain to others outside exactly what business they were in.
“I’m not surprised at all,” she told him. “I know it has a lot to do with you.”
“Oh, it’s not all my doing.”
“You never take credit for all your work. You’re practically running the whole thing.”
“Oh, there’s enough credit to go around.”
“So is it all over now?”
“I invited Robert to dinner tomorrow night. But that should be the last of it, at least for now.”
“Which one’s Robert?”
“The one who married Sylvia.”
“Is he your second cousin? I thought I knew them all. No, wait, is he a third?”
“No, quite wrong, my dear. A first cousin.”
“A first? No. That’s not possible. I’m sure I know them all.”
“A first cousin. Twice removed.”
“God, how am I supposed to keep track of them all?”
“You really don’t apply yourself.”
In reply, she crossed the room and sat down upon his lap. She kissed his ear. She kissed his neck.
“All you think about is sex, my dear.”
“And all you think about is money.”
“That’s not true.” He stopped her hands. “I think about my family.”
“That’s not thinking.” She pouted. “It’s more like an obsession.”
“Family is important.”
“It’s not like you’re the Kennedys or something.” She paused. “The way you speak of them, it’s not normal.”
“You make it sound incestuous.”
“Well, perhaps it is.”
He pressed her hands together and looked into her eyes. “I don’t think you appreciate what you married into.”
“Don’t I?” She tried to stroke his thigh.
“No.” He caught her hand. “I don’t think you do. There are so many advantages. And you don’t use them.”
“I didn’t know I should.”
“Well?”
“Alright. I’ll try harder.”
“Do that.”
***
Robert arrived on time, with flowers. He placed them in Penelope’s arms.
“Here. My wife sends her regards.”
“She’s not coming?”
“No, I’m afraid she couldn’t make it. She’s with Timothy. And his wife.”
“And who is Timothy?”
“My younger brother.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t keep you all straight. William’s been chiding me to do better.”
“That’s quite all right. There really are a lot of us. And I must confess I cannot recall your name. Surely, William must have told me.”
“It’s Penelope.”
He looked up at her sharply as though he hadn’t noticed her before.
“A very,” and he touched her hair, “a very erotic name.”
William walked in to the room.
“A very beautiful name.”
“Robert, how good to see you. And I see you’ve met my wife.”
“Yes, you’re so good to have me over.”
“We’re so happy you could come.”
***
The next day, Penelope drove out alone. She took a winding road up to a summer cottage on the lake.
The door opened, and there was Robert.
“Penelope,” he breathed. He led her in, and moved behind her. “Don’t talk, don’t say a word.” His words were soft, barely audible, as his hands moved down her blouse and his mouth moved up her neck.
“Penelope, oh, Penelope.” He said nothing more, just crooned her name over and over as he removed her clothes, as he laid her down upon the floor. He cried out when first he went inside her, then said her name with every thrust, louder and louder, until at last he collapsed on top of her.
“I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry.”
She was out of breath, and it took her a moment to reply. “But why?”
“I was thinking of my mistress. She has your name, you see.”
She considered this a moment. “But why aren’t you then with her?”
“She left me. I loved her, but she left me.”
“For another man?”
“Oh no. She left me for her husband.”
“And so you slept with me instead?”
“Yes. Yes, I know that I’m a rotten bastard. I thought, when I met you, that I could call her name and pretend that she was here.”
Penelope sat up. “I was alright with being the other woman, but I wasn’t prepared to be the third. This is a little much.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He touched her shoulders and pulled her down. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Alright, but how?”
“I want to fuck you again,” he said as he slid inside her, “and this time, it’ll be as you.”
He put his finger on her lips, and she made no reply. She let him have her. Really, what else could she have done? He was already in.
He took her very tenderly, held her face in both his hands, though he didn’t quite look into her eyes. He didn’t say her name, didn’t call her anything at all.
***
The next time she slept with William, she wondered what all this meant. He was going in and out quite calmly when he looked down at her.
“Penelope, my dear, you look like you’re a million miles away.”
“Well, maybe I was thinking.”
“Thinking?”
“Yes, I was thinking of someone else.”
“Yes. Hold on,” and William slid his hands slowly down her hips. “I’ve got it. My cousin Robert.”
She felt him stiffen inside her. The thought had turned him on.
“God, no. It wasn’t Robert. He’s too far removed. I need someone closer.” And she wrapped her legs around his back, pulled him deeper in.
“Mmm. Maybe you should try my cousin Ron. He’s handsome. I think you’d rather like him.”
“Alright. Maybe I’ll give him a try.”
“Do.” And he moaned, “my God, you’re good tonight.”
Penelope said nothing, and she wondered if he too had other women.
Jennifer Handy explores sexuality, psychological trauma, and severed family relationships through fiction. Her fiction has been published in A Plate of Pandemic, MAI: Feminism & Visual Culture, Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal, The Word’s Faire, and is forthcoming in Bridge Eight, Flyway, Great River Review, and Half and One.