by Lyn Gardner
Pam curled her lip at the scent of sex, but that didn’t slow her progress. She neared the bed, took a breath, and then raised the knife above her head.
***
When Judy reached the dock, she walked across the street and sat on the steps of a hotel, its rooms empty and its windows dark. The asphalt on the road slowly changed from black to gray as the glimmers of dawn breached the horizon, and in the distance, she could hear the faint hum of the ferry’s engine.
Two hours earlier, in a room lit by candles, she had gathered her things, and refusing to look in Robin’s direction, Judy crept into the big kitchen, naked and numb. Detached from the night and from the morning, she dressed slowly, cautious not to make a sound, cautious not to remember, cautious not to feel. Judy left the house with her head bowed and her mind blank, and as she walked to the ferry, she didn’t lift her eyes. She knew the way, and if she had cared to look, she would have seen stores and restaurants covered in boards, but Judy didn’t want to remember them that way, closed and vacant...just like her.
There was still no need to raise her eyes as Judy sat on the steps, the sounds of the ferry docking and people disembarking so familiar, although today it was crisper. The season was over, so there weren’t many coming off the boat, and she could hear the faint chatter of friends planning their day and the steady rhythm of the tires on their bikes rolling over the boards of the pier.
Taking a deep breath, Judy pushed herself off the step and headed for the ferry. A few strangers ambled by without bicycles, but she didn’t question their visit. Relatives of the locals always came to the island after the crowds had gone. She brushed shoulders with one and mumbled an apology, but the hooded visitor paid her no attention. Judy was glad.
As she walked past Glen, she paused long enough to listen as he explained her luggage was on the mainland having made the trip without her the night before. She nodded her acknowledgment. Glen said he’d see her later. Judy said goodbye.
Soon she was sitting on the ferry, one of only a few early-morning travelers, and distancing herself from them, Judy stared at the floor. The horn sounded. The boat glided away from the dock, and her eyes remained focused on her feet. She longed to look at the water one last time, the sunlight dancing on the surface, the waves rippling, and the gulls swooping, but if she did the feelings building inside of her would let loose. Judy kept her head down and prayed she’d make it to her car.
When she reached the mainland, luggage was gathered and packed into the trunk and back seat, and sliding behind the wheel, Judy barely had time to close the door before her eyes overflowed. Burying her head in her hands, she sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks in a never-ending stream as the violence of her wails wracked her body. She tried to smother off her cries, suffocate them with a clenched jaw and clamped lips, but her pain was too great. Overwhelmed, it was all she could do to breathe.
Throughout the night, Judy had tried to keep the ache in her heart at bay. When movements stilled, when hearts needed to slow, or lungs needed to calm, the truth would return, and her heart would break again. How many times had she choked back the words she longed to say? How many times had she stopped Robin with a quieting finger, hushing her before whispers of love could be heard? But it was in those moments of longing and of love unspoken when clarity came to Judy. Tomorrow she knew she was going to walk away, but tomorrow had yet to arrive, so she cherished the night. She let herself free. She let herself feel. She let herself love and give into all the yearning coursing through her veins, and Judy loved, as Robin had asked...like there was no tomorrow.
When the temptation of sleep was too great, and Robin’s breathing slowed, Judy had stared at the ceiling and allowed time to slip by. Her body clock was as accurate as ever, and she wasn’t going to miss another ferry, so she took what time was left and branded her mind with the memories of the night.
Memories of scents, new and evocative, and of skin milky soft and oh so warm. Memories of bodies meshed and limbs intertwined, and the glow of Robin’s nectar shiny on her skin. Memories of kisses, addictive and intoxicating that had enslaved Judy throughout the night, and memories of the taste of a tongue, salty and wet, ravishing her mouth in abandon.
No boundaries had existed between them, and any hesitation was just that, a second of pause before letting their love guide them toward new discoveries, new textures, and new tastes.
Once surrendering to Robin’s first kiss, Judy found it nearly impossible to break away from the power of Robin’s ardor. She pillaged Judy’s body, again and again taking with her lips, her fingers, and her tongue everything in her path, and while Judy was the most willing of victims, there were times when she became the victor.
Fraught with desire, Robin’s eyes would plead for release, and it was then when Judy could capture a nipple in her mouth, suckling against it until it was stiff and swollen while Robin writhed under her. It was then when her hands could roam free, Robin so lost in a vortex, erogenous and unabated, she was helpless to thwart Judy’s advances, and it was then when Judy could grind herself against Robin’s most tender place, taking her to nirvana while Judy watched in awe.
Judy jumped in her seat, the blast of the departing ferry’s horn interrupting her thoughts and bringing her back to now. She fumbled for her stash of fast food napkins in the glove box, and after drying her eyes, she tossed the crumpled napkin aside. She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven. Where had the time gone? Six hours later, she would wonder that again.
***
At a rest stop just north of Marshall, Michigan, Judy sat at the furthest picnic bench she could find. At the very end of the property, it was away from prying eyes, dog walkers, and the ruckus of people streaming in and out of the restrooms as they chattered about their plans or yelled for their children to catch up.
Judy had made this trip countless times, and never in a rush to get to Pat’s, she’d meander down the highway, stopping for food, fuel, or sometimes just to stretch her legs, but today she should have been in a rush. Today was Pat’s birthday, and his party started promptly at five-thirty, but six hours into the trip, Judy had yet to make it halfway.
Time was spent in the ladies’ room of a fast food restaurant in St. Ignace where, stripping out of clothes smelling of passion, Judy had scrubbed with paper towels and foaming restroom soap, trying to remove every trace of Robin’s scent. Time was lost in gas station bathrooms, staring into cracked mirrors above sinks spotted with rust, demanding her reflection to grow up, to accept reality, and to stop acting like a fool. Time was wasted in convenience stores, walking up and down every aisle, mindlessly looking at food that didn’t appeal before settling on yet another cup of what tasted like yesterday’s coffee, and blinded by tears, time disappeared as Judy had sat in her car on the side of the road waiting for her vision to clear.
Judy closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. Her head had been pounding for most of the trip, the pain dull at times and at others, piercing her skull like a railroad spike. She wanted to blame it on caffeine. She had had more than her fair share, but there are only so many thoughts a brain can handle, and Judy’s had reached its limit. Much the same as protons in a particle accelerator, her thoughts kept colliding, bombarding off one another at a staggering rate. No sooner had one started when another would appear, countering her original conviction with arguments equally as voracious, and in a never-ending loop, they repeated and repeated and repeated. At times, the ache was so dizzying she wanted to vomit and at others, so grinding all she could do was pull off the road, pop a few more painkillers, and massage her temples until the vise loosened.
Judy pulled the crisp fall air into her lungs as she opened her eyes. She held her breath, waiting for the next shockwave to hit her skull, but instead, all she felt was a subdued throb. Exhaling, Judy picked up the vending machine cup and brought it to her lips again. She took a mindless sip, no longer able to discern strong from weak or good from bad. It was hot. It was wet. It kept her awake.
Chapter Forty-Three
Judy sat near the door on a folding chair her family had borrowed from the church. Its sepia paint was nicked, and its seat, hard and unyielding, but comfort hadn’t been its appeal. If a quick escape was needed to hide tears that had a mind of their own, in two quick steps, Judy could be out of view, allowed to mourn a loss she caused...again.
She raised her eyes for a moment and then averted them. She had no interest in the guests who remained, their belt buckles, bellies, and beer cans directly in her line of sight. Most were people she’d grown up with, gone to church with, attended weddings and funerals with, but they seemed like strangers now. They had smiled at her arrival, shaking her hand or giving her a hug that suggested she was contaminated, but their eyes stopped at her surface. Just a quick glance to check out how she had aged, a less-than-covert eyeballing of someone they once knew, and then they wandered away and got lost in the crowd, no doubt looking for someone more familiar.
Judy took a sip of her beer as she quickly scanned the room. With the guests invited numbering ridiculous, and seeing no need to spend money renting out a banquet hall, Louise had converted the orchard’s market into the party venue. The pallets and tables usually scattered throughout had been moved to the storeroom, but the essence of the market still remained. The smell of beer and fried chicken couldn’t hide the scent of produce and apples that hung in the air, and while banners announcing Happy Birthday were draped everywhere, the blackboards revealing today’s prices remained hanging all around. The blades of the ceiling fans were covered in a thick coating of dust and the concrete floor, although swept for the party, held the indelible stains of cherries, blackberries, and blueberries crushed under the footwear of oblivious shoppers.
Although Judy’s headache still existed, its presence had almost gone unnoticed, but sitting where she didn’t want to be, doing what she didn’t want to do, with people she didn’t want to see was having its effect. On any given day, the market could easily hold over a hundred people, yet Judy felt as if the walls were slowly closing in on her, and with every inch they stole, there was less air to breathe. Having arrived late enough to miss the throng, those remaining numbered less than thirty, but Judy felt stifled and compressed by all around her, and her headache kicked up a notch.
“You haven’t missed much if that helps.”
Judy glanced at Eric as he sat down next to her, trying her best to ignore the ice picks now poking at her temples. “What?”
“You look sad, and I was just saying you didn’t miss much. This party’s been kind of a bust.”
It was well past nine by the time Judy had arrived at the party, and doing what was expected, she had sought out Pat and extended her birthday greetings. After kissing him on the cheek, she grabbed a drink she didn’t really want, sat down, and for the most part, stared at the floor. It was a pose that was quickly becoming a habit.
Judy couldn’t help but look around the room again. Along one wall was a row of tables, atop which were chafing dishes holding what remained of fried chicken, baked ziti, and pulled pork, and in between were large foil bowls of salad, rolls, and fruit, their contents now well below the rims. Coolers with beer, water, and soda were situated close by, and bottles of liquor and wine, along with stacks of plastic cups were strewn across the counters of the market’s cash registers.
Judy turned back to her brother. “Why was it a bust? It looks like there was a party here to me.”
“Oh, there was a party, just not the one Louise had planned,” Eric said with a laugh. “Doug fucked up a couple of weeks ago and let it slip to Pat about the party. Once he found out, Pat invited all his buddies from the club, and when they showed up, everything went south. The more they drank, the louder they got until everyone was shouting over each other just to be heard. Someone broke one of Louise’s favorite platters, and Doug ended up throwing up outside.”
“Geez.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, frowning. “Bev managed to pour him into the car and get him home, and by eight o’clock all the grandchildren were gone since every other word was becoming the F-bomb. By nine, Louise had had enough, so all of Pat’s cronies were shown the door, and after that, this place became a morgue. I think the kids are just waiting to help Louise clean up once the rest of these people get the hint the party’s over.”
Judy searched the room and finally noticed two of Pat’s children sitting off to one side, both of whom were nursing their beers. Their expressions sagged with the weight of responsibility, but they dutifully waited as was expected. Judy sighed. She knew that feeling all too well, but as she was about to lower her eyes again, she noticed someone else in the room. Balancing a plate of birthday cake on his overextended belly, he shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth while a piece of icing remained housed at the corner of his lips. Judy smiled to herself. He looked like a Buddha sitting atop a pin. “What’s Orson doing here?”
“What do you think he’s doing here?” Eric said, sniggering under his breath. “Ever since you mentioned to Pat on the phone you may be staying, he’s been like an old Jewish grandmother.”
“Huh?
Eric beamed, rocking back and forth as he broke into a whispered song. “Matchmaker, matchmaker—”
“Enough,” Judy said, holding up her hand. “That’s not going to happen.”
Amused by his sister’s predicament, Eric looked over at Orson for a second. “Oh, I don’t know. What did Pat say? You could do worse?”
“Seriously?” Judy snapped. “You think that little of me to believe I’d be interested in him. That he’s the only person I could ever attract?”
“Jude,” Eric said, placing his hand on Judy’s shoulder. “I was kidding. Relax. It was just a joke.”
“Well, I’m not laughing,” Judy said, and white-knuckling the bottle in her hand she stared off into space.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Eric said, staring at his sister. “And by the way, what’s this bullshit about you moving home? You aren’t really considering it, are you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Eric.”
“Judy, come on. This is me you’re talking to. There’s no way in hell you’d ever want to move back here, so just tell me—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Judy said, glaring at her brother. “Now, drop it, Eric. Please, I’m begging you. Just drop it.”
Eric’s expression turned pained. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his sister cry, but in an instant, her eyes had misted over. He bowed his head, racking his brain to find a subject change. A minute passed and then another until the sound of Pat’s gravelly voice carried across the room, jogging Eric’s memory. “By the way,” he said, inching closer to Judy. “Before you hear it from someone else, there was something that happened earlier today with Brett you should probably know about.”
The mention of Pat’s youngest made Judy look across the room again. Trey was still staring aimlessly into space, and his sister was now entranced by whatever was on her iPad, but their younger sibling was nowhere to be seen.
“What went on with Brett? Something at school? Is he okay?” she said, keeping her voice low.
“He’s fine, but when he showed up with his girlfriend, his very black girlfriend, Pat went ballistic.”
Judy winced as her headache, like an ice pick, pierced her skull. “What?”
Eric shru
gged. “You know Pat. He went off like a crazy man. I think the only thing he didn’t shout was the N-word before Brett managed to get the poor girl back into the car and drive away.”
“And what did you do?”
“What?”
“What did you do about it?”
“Judy, I didn’t do anything about it. I mean, I tried to calm Pat down, but it was like spitting into the wind. You know that.”
“So you just let him do that to our nephew? You just turned the other cheek and looked away?”
Eric gawked at his sister. “Judy, have you forgotten how many times over the years we’ve argued with him, only to walk away with nothing to show for it except for sore throats and high blood pressure? And I’m not saying I agree with him. Lord knows I don’t agree with him, but I’m tired of fighting the same old battle. What did Mom always say about that?”
“About what?”
“It was something about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”
Judy couldn’t help but grin, remembering one of her mother’s favorite analogies. “It’s the definition of insanity.”
“That’s it,” Eric said, slapping his knee. “But the point I’m trying to make is that Pat is never going to change, Judy. Okay? Just surrender and move on. You’ll be a lot happier.”
Judy knew all about surrender, and her stomach began to churn as she counted up the times. At fourteen, she yielded to pressures and fears and lost herself in the process. In her late twenties, her true self returned only to be abandoned when she gave into society’s norms. In her thirties and forties, Judy had handed her life over to another, her desire for children and a house squelched with not so much as an argument, and now, in her fifties, she had once again raised the white flag, surrendering whatever years she had left...for what?
