by Edwin Dasso
“Let’s go to midnight mass Christmas Eve,” Mark said. It caught her off guard; was it possible he felt the same way?
“You can come with us to the Greek church here if you’d like,” she said. “It’s a tradition my family has.” And to keep it light, she added, “I won’t have to worry about Jacob Parker if you’ll be with me.”
“No, you won’t.” Already starting to worry about what would happen when he went back to work on Monday, he worked twelve-hour shifts and would have to get some sleep eventually.
“When do you go back to work?”
“You must be reading my mind,” he answered. “Tuesday. But if you’ll allow me, I’ll sleep on your couch. Two cops are better than one.”
She laughed again, feeling better. “I’m not sure that’s necessary, though. Plus, my dad,” she whispered, nodding her head over to where Gus was standing, the implication clear. She was already so regretful that Gus knew she’d slept with Fred. Certain that relationship was now over, how many men could she march through her bedroom before her father began to lose respect for her? What about respecting myself?
Gus served them another delicious dinner, curiosity about Mark increasing, but glad he was protecting Jill if that was all there was to it. He invited them up to the apartment to go through the old ornaments, but she’d had enough for one day and would be back on Sunday. They left for the walk back to her apartment.
“You should come up,” she said when they arrived, surprising herself. They were standing on the walkway leading up to her staircase, shielded from the street by an overgrown yew. “It’s too cold to stay out here all night.” The words were just out of her mouth, so cold her breath was a cloud of mist, when she happened to look to the right of Mark and saw a light-colored older Cadillac driving by with its lights off. “Oh my god, that’s Jacob Parker.” Mark pushed Jill behind the tree and swung around just as the car slowed down in front of her apartment.
Slowing almost to a stop, Jacob saw what appeared to be a big kid standing in a threatening posture. He pressed the window button, and the window slowly rolled down. “Hey, Jolly Green Giant,” Jacob called out, laughing. “You think you scare me?”
“You better get back to Dearborn, Parker,” Mark called, walking toward the car. Jacob must have finally seen the huge Colt 45 in the holster at his waist. “Yes, sir, I’d say you had better hightail it back to the burbs, because in about sixty seconds, you’re going to get arrested for stalking a police officer.”
Jacob gave the gas pedal a push and laid a little rubber as he took off. Mark reached into his car and pulled the radio out, giving Jacob Parker’s information to central dispatch. A patrol car would make sure Jacob went home. Jill was standing next to him when he hung the radio up.
“I don’t like this,” she said.
“No, you don’t have to. Hop in. We’re going to the station and take out a restraining order.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Jill replied. Getting her second wind, seeing Parker in front of a judge again was to her liking. Melancholia gone for now, she looked forward to the rest of the night. Mark would think of her safety in new terms, adding worry to the list of concerns. He wisely avoided using that word with her, not admitting, I’m worried about you, figuring correctly that she was proud and self-reliant and might not appreciate it.
3
Gus and Andy prepared to close up for the night. Gus enjoyed those last quiet moments before he climbed the stairs to the apartment and its awaiting chaos. In the past, he had the place to himself, but now his brother’s boy, Andy, and Andy’s two little boys lived with him, and there was always Estelle. Estelle had changed everything. There was so much passion in their relationship, so much respect and admiration, though he wouldn’t say he loved her. Something was missing. As he moved the wet mop back and forth over the cement floor, pushing it under the tables and past the counters, he thought of Estelle and how much she added to his life. But if he was honest with himself, he’d admit that if she decided to break it off, he’d be fine. He’d go back to where he was before she pushed her way into his bed. Or more correctly, dragged him to her bed. They were aging, he was sixty, and she was at least sixty-five, but she was a young sixty-five, and she was…high energy. Keeping their separate apartments was probably the wisest thing he’d done because otherwise, he’d never get any sleep.
Being around men sexualized Estelle; she flirted with anyone who came into the store. Gus noticed their regular customer base had increased exponentially from mostly female—nurses and local women who came in to buy take-out dinners—to older men who bought a paper and a cup of coffee, hanging around all morning to chat, just like the old days, except most of these men weren’t Greek. He’d wondered if that was why the gun store was so popular, always filled with men when Estelle was around. Frank used to complain that business dropped off dramatically when Estelle went to New Jersey to see the grandchildren. At the time, Gus thought he was teasing. Now he wasn’t so sure.
He turned the lights off after he finished mopping and went to the back door to look out. The alley was dark, moonlight barely illuminating the dumpster. It was not a view to inspire, and he wondered lately if there couldn’t be something done about it: place the dumpster at the other end of the alley and clean up the area, repair the broken-down privacy fence and, in the spring, place pots of bushes and trees and tables and chairs. Smiling, he decided he’d ask Estelle for her input. She was good at that sort of thing. He turned the last of the lights off and opened the door to the private staircase that led up to his apartment.
The Zannos family came to Detroit from Greece via Windsor, Ontario. Gus’s parents, Nick and Eleni, came to the United States, leaving the rest of their family in Canada. They made it as far as Greektown and the apartment. The children fanned out over the state, but Gus, the baby of the family, never left Detroit. His nephew Andy moved in with him the previous spring when his wife died. Now Uncle Gus was as important to Andy’s two small boys as they were to Gus. As he climbed the steep staircase, he could hear their laughter, and when he opened the door, they ran to him, happy he was home.
He wasn’t in the door sixty seconds when the phone rang. Navigating the path to the phone wasn’t easy with two small bodies clinging to his legs. The boys were screaming, “Uncle Gus,” when he answered.
“I knew you had to be home by the amount of noise those boys were making,” Estelle said, chuckling.
“Yes, they are lively tonight,” he said. He was tired and dreaded that she might ask something of him. She noticed his tone of voice right away.
“What’s wrong? You sound a little down tonight,” Estelle said.
“Eh, not so much,” Gus said, not wanting to admit to her that he’d wondered why they were together, what the purpose of it was. “I guess I might be a little melancholy, Christmas and all.”
“Tell you what,” she replied. “Did you eat yet? Because if you didn’t, Dido outdid herself tonight making chicken that was so good, the chickens wanted to come back to life. Why don’t you come on over? And when you’re done eating, I’ll treat you to a dessert I made myself.”
“Oh, is that right?” Gus said, his turn to chuckle. “And what, may I ask, is that?”
“I’ll give it to you after Dido goes to bed,” she whispered. Gus thought about how Estelle always made him smile, that no matter how tired he was, she energized him.
“Okay, I guess I could come over. Let me freshen up, and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“You do that,” she said, sultry voice purring over the phone. They said good-bye and hung up their phones. Gus ruffled the boys’ heads and went to his room to get ready for an evening with Estelle. His mood improved since he talked with her, he thought, Life is good.
After Estelle invited Gus to come over, she went into the tiny kitchen to fix him a plate of food. Hearing her, Dido rose up out of her recliner, first putting a stitch marker to keep her place in her knitting and purling to the end
of the row. She’d go back later, take out the purls to the marker and pick right up where she left off her pattern. Blind after contracting small pox as a girl, she was an avid knitter and reader in spite of it.
Dido had an acerbic tongue. She was also very protective of her daughter-in-law and didn’t trust her with Gus. “Are you going to feed Shorty again tonight?” she said. “Why doesn’t he eat his own damn food?”
“He’s coming over for dinner, Dido. Not asking for the combination to the safe.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t trust him.”
Estelle turned to look at her, frowning. “And why don’t you trust him? I find this unbelievable that someone you’ve known all his life isn’t trustworthy.”
“For one thing, he’s short,” Dido said, laughing.
“Shhhh! Jeez, Mother, will you shut up? He’s right there!” Even though Dido couldn’t see what she was doing, Estelle pointed to the wall that separated the two apartments.
“That’s another reason,” Dido replied. “What’s so special about his home that you aren’t invited over there occasionally? Is his family so sensitive that your presence might taint them? Why am I the only one who has to suffer through his yodeling all night long? Like a regular tomcat he sounds. It’s enough to give a decent woman nightmares.”
Estelle had stopped dishing food out and had her head cradled in her arms on the countertop, trying to stifle her laughter. “Will you please be quiet?” she hissed, tears rolling down her face. “Now I have to go touch up my makeup.”
“You didn’t answer me. And furthermore, you’re just as bad. Put a lid on it, will you? Honest to god, I thought I might lose my dinner the last time he was here.”
“You’re jealous,” Estelle countered.
“I most certainly am not. He is most unappealing, with his lamb smell wafting up my stairs everyday. He needs to change the menu before it’s too late. Besides, I’m not attracted to short men.”
“It’s a Greek deli, Dido. What’s he supposed to serve?” Having composed herself, Estelle got back to fixing Gus dinner. “Dido, you’re just going to have to get used to it. This is my last chance at happiness. I’m not going to curtail our passion, no matter how disturbing it is for you.” She gave another laugh, spittle spraying the countertop.
“You really are an animal,” Dido said with a sneer. “Wipe that up with some bleach.” But she cackled, too. “Don’t let him know he’s caused this uproar. We don’t want his ego to get too big when the time comes to pay you for the space your lending him. And if you insult him, he might not be able to get it up again, and then all of this conversation would be in vain.”
Estelle laughed again, shushing her. “When Big Frank died, didn’t you want to get married again some day?” Estelle asked. “Weren’t you lonely?”
“What’s with the lonely garbage,” she said. “I had Frank Junior and little Frank, and I had you. And being blind, I’d probably only appeal to another blind man, and just between you and me, after Big Frank, they’d have awfully big shoes to fill. And I mean that in more ways than one.” She said this last part in a secretive way that made the hairs on Estelle’s arms rise up.
“Oh my God, excuse me, but that is disgusting! I don’t want to think about my father-in-law in that manner. He was always such a gentleman!”
“Yes, well, looks are deceiving.” Dido was getting bored talking to Estelle. She really didn’t mind Gus, but she wanted to keep the upper hand just in case they started talking about living together. She was going back to her knitting when there was a tap on the door.
“Get that, will you?” Estelle called.
“Yeah, sure,” Dido replied, going to the door. She paused, waiting for him to knock again, and then she pulled it open quickly so his hand would be in mid air.
“I’m so sorry I can’t see the look on your face right now,” she said, sure he was surprised and embarrassed. “You might as well come in. Were your ears burning?”
“No, ma’am, I can’t say that they were,” Gus said, stepping over the threshold. Having to converse with Dido was something he’d endured since childhood. Healed from the doubts he’d had earlier that evening about the futility of their relationship, Dido’s torture wouldn’t be enough to keep him away from Estelle.
After Uncle Gus left for the night, Andy Zannos put his sons to bed. It was routine; they ate dinner together and had an hour of playtime and TV until seven thirty. Andy gave them a bath and would read to them for ten minutes or until they fell asleep. Then he’d go to his computer and log on to one of the several dating sites he’d joined.
So far, it was slim pickin’s. Jill had encouraged him to try it, saying she’d probably do it herself if she hadn’t stumbled across Fred right after catching her longtime boyfriend Alex with another woman.
“Don’t stay cooped up in this apartment with two kids and my father. If you can’t get out, try online dating,” Jill said.
“It sounds awful,” Andy replied, and it had been. He’d used two of the popular sites and never got to the point of sharing emails. The respondents were either looking for a meal ticket, wore their broken hearts on their sleeves, or were in recovery. Saturday night, how many promising prospective dates would admit to being home alone, trolling for dates like he was? He popped the top on a beer and sat down at the kitchen table. It was next to a window overlooking Beaubien Street, and the festive lights and people strolling along did nothing to lighten his mood. He was angry tonight: angry his wife was dead, that he’d married her in the first place, angry she left him to raise the kids alone.
The cynic in him was foremost tonight, sarcasm ready to pounce when the opportunity arose. He logged on to Lovematch.com and scrolled through to his profile page. At the top of the tabs in flashing lights were the words You have a love match! Nervous knots brewing in his stomach, he hesitated before clicking on the Find out who’s looked at your profile tab.
A picture of a lovely young woman appeared when he finally got the nerve. But the photo meant nothing. In a previous contact, he’d searched for the woman on Facebook and made the mistake of looking at her photos. In between disgust and hysteria and plain flabbergast at what he’d discovered about her, in addition to being an exhibitionist unfettered by any self-consciousness, she also appeared to have several kids she’d failed to mention in her profile. Not interested in raising another man’s children, he knew he was asking a lot to expect a woman to want to raise his own. “You’re just looking for companionship, not a mother for your kids,” he said. He already had the help of his family for that.
The new prospect fit everything he’d listed in his profile. She was educated, employed, health conscious, single and lived in the city. He didn’t see any point in dating someone from the suburbs. His late wife, Dana, hated Detroit and complained constantly about his job, his hours and having to live within commuting distance. He’d never leave the city again if he didn’t have to.
He read her profile. I am twenty-seven, a registered nurse at a hospital in town, live alone. For relaxation, I like to run, read and take drives in the country. But I really love staying in the city. Every weekend I try to do at least one activity that takes advantage of being in such a wonderful place.
“Right,” he said out loud. “It’s great to live in the poorest place in the country.” But he was going to try to think positively. Hesitating with his finger poised over the answer button, what could he say to her? Then he decided honesty was the best right off the bat.
Speaking out loud while he was typing, “I’m thirty-five, widowed with two small children. I have a degree in accounting from Wayne State, but work at the family grocery store. If you want to continue talking to me, let me know.” He pressed the send button and watched as his depressing bio went through cyberspace. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t answer. He drained his beer and got up to get another when the computer beeped, an indication he’d already received an answer. Snorting, he said, “Another loser looking
for Mr. Right on a Saturday night.” He grabbed the beer and slid in behind the table, aiming the mouse to read the reply.
I’m so sorry about your wife. It must be demanding to raise children on your own. Family businesses are the best. My family is in the funeral business. I’m the only sibling not entering mortuary science. Then she gave her name, a step discouraged by the moderators of the site. Nicole.
Andy scratched his head. What was next? He supposed more conversation was required before they could arrange a meeting. “Nicole,” he typed. “The funeral business, huh? Very interesting!” He pushed send before he reread it. “Oh God, how corny.” But she didn’t seem to think so and answered right away.
It really is, but routine like any other business. What isn’t routine is how we view the departure. We don’t have funerals for our loved ones. That’s all I’ll say until I know you better!
“And how does that come about?” Andy asked. “Will Lovematch.com give us permission?”
LOL! Yes, we have to do this a few more times, and they’ll prompt us to exchange email addresses. Andy quickly went to Facebook and typed in Nicole in the search bar and then Detroit in the location. There were too many to check out each page.
“What else do you want to know about me?” he typed.
Well, how old are your children? Girls or boys? Do you want more someday? It threw him off guard. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. The thought of being in the kind of relationship again where having children was a possibility was sickening.
“I’ll be honest,” he typed. “I guess I’m not ready to even think about having more children.” He realized he was treating the dialogue like a therapy session. She could either continue with it or end it right then.
