by Edwin Dasso
He’d listened to his parents. Now, instead of making his own decisions, he was behaving like an errant child, speaking disrespectfully to his mother, yet backing down to her. As he ran down the steps, he knew he wasn’t going to tell Nicole to leave. He wanted to give their relationship a chance.
24
Coming back to the apartment after midnight mass, Estelle wanted nothing more than for Gus’s family to go to their rooms and stay there for the rest of the night. But the men resumed their poker games, and the women went to get snacks from the kitchen, dragging all of the leftovers out of the refrigerator. She never saw so much food at a meal, and it kept coming all night. No wonder they’re all chubby, Estelle thought critically, proud of her slim figure.
It was hopeless to ask Gus to spend the night with her, and she really needed his reassurance. After their announcement, spur of the moment with the intention to get his sister-in-law Paula to shut up, Estelle waited for the flurry of best wishes, but no one said a word until Jill stood up. Wincing at Jill’s bruised, swollen face, Estelle wanted to be grateful, but she just couldn’t be. Why couldn’t someone who was more presentable toast the engagement? A little of his family was going a long way.
“I guess it’s time to call it a night,” Gus said, praying she’d take the hint and leave for her own apartment.
“Let’s bust through this wall so I can just go through there to my room,” she said, pointing.
“Great idea, but not tonight,” he said, laughing. “It would make too much noise.” Resigned she wasn’t going to leave, he led her to the couch, where he plunked down, exhausted. He put his head back and closed his eyes. But Estelle was sitting close with her body angled toward him, ready to chat.
“Now that we’ve made the announcement, let’s set a date. I want to give my son enough time to make his plans.” She talked on about sending announcements to her sisters in White Plains and New Jersey. Her in-laws weren’t a concern. After caring for Dido for so many years, she was sure Frank’s family would be supportive as long as the living situation stayed the same. No one else wanted to deal with Dido.
“Estelle, we have a long day ahead of us. It’s almost two; maybe we should get some sleep.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said sadly.
“You’ll be right on the other side of the wall,” Gus said softly. “Come on, let’s get to bed. We’ll be back together in just a few hours.” He stood and took her hand. Getting up, resigned, she thought of the one goal she had, and that was to marry Gus as soon as she could.
Estelle walked through the door of her apartment; Dido was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea with lemon and honey. “Mother Nick, what are you doing up?” She slid her coat off and hung it up on a hook next to the door.
“The question is, what are you doing up? You have dinner guests tomorrow, don’t forget.”
“I didn’t,” Estelle said, defeated. “I don’t want to entertain friends of Frank’s. I want to be next door with Gus and his family.”
Repeating Gus’s words, Dido tried to pacify her. “You’ll be together in a few hours. Try to get some sleep and leave Shorty alone. He’s got all of those freeloaders over there tonight. I wonder what his grocery bill looks like.”
“Remember, he is the grocer,” Estelle said.
“Yes, but he’s still got to pay for it.” Sometimes her daughter-in-law was so thick headed. “Do you think the food fairy stocks those shelves?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I’m sure his brothers must chip in. They sure as hell will once we get married.”
Dido kept her face expressionless, but she wanted to laugh. A wife had so little control. Did she forget already?
Dido stood up and walked to the stove. “You need tea. Get ready for sleep, and I’ll make you a cup.” She hated Estelle to get defeated, depending on her upbeat optimism to get them through the low times. She couldn’t see Estelle’s tired shoulders hunched over, stooped and old.
“I think his family might be getting to me,” she said.
Dido perked up. Was there a story here? “Why? I thought they were so warm and inviting?” Dido mocked the words Estelle had used herself just days earlier, putting her arthritic fingers up in quotation marks.
“It’s not so much the way they treat me. The wives, the wives who are not Greek, are so angry all the time. You heard the fat Irish girl married to Nick calling Christina a slut during dinner and no one addressed it! Even Gus sat like a lump. When is that appropriate dinnertime conversation?”
“You can expect that kind of support from him when you’re married. No wonder his wife strayed. He’s a dud.”
“Dido, I can’t have you criticizing him like that. Please, for my sake. No one knows what goes on behind closed bedroom doors.”
“That’s not true. Get me a recorder, and I’ll prove it. I know exactly what goes on behind yours.”
“Dido! Is there nothing sacred?”
“Let me get your tea,” Dido said, ignoring her. “I’ll get you a nice plate of cookies, too. I baked up a storm today while you were next door with Shorty’s family.”
“Oh my God, I couldn’t eat another thing. Even the thought of food is choking me. That’s the other thing. His family does nothing but eat. I don’t understand how the men stay so slim. And drink! I bet there’s two dozen bottles of retsina in the recycling bin on Monday.”
“Ah, retsina. I think I’ll have a shot. How about you?” Dido asked, going for the liquor cabinet.
“It might help me sleep without Gus.”
“Without Gus, I’ll have undisturbed sleep tonight. I certainly hope you sleep over there once the wedding is over. I know I won’t survive it if he moves in with us.”
“Will you mind being here alone?”
“I can’t wait!” Dido replied. “Please, leave me alone. I’ve never been alone in my entire life.” Dido was really just being sarcastic; she was alone for three years during the war. The memories of how frightened and close to starvation she’d been until she met Frank, her savior, were not something she wanted to bring up now; they had to get some sleep.
Secretly, Dido was ready for some excitement after being in the apartment for weeks. Back in the old days, before her son died, she sat on a stool outside of his gun shop, insulting customers and tormenting the neighborhood. After the shop closed, she didn’t have much purpose in life. Gus’s store was off limits, too. Sighing, she poured them each a shot, hopeful that something really disgusting would happen when her late husband’s family came for Christmas dinner. They usually could be counted on for something scandalous.
25
Christmas Eve in Eaton Rapids started out to be a lonely time for Liz. The day John left, she wished she hadn’t bothered to put a tree up. It was so fake, trying to make Christmas for him during their marriage. Now glad for the tree and the twinkling lights, she put a Duraflame log in the fireplace and lit it, thinking, What the heck, I’m only hurting myself if I don’t celebrate. The colored lights and the bright fire lit up the room. Going through the same motions she would have if John had been home, she dressed in a long, red satin skirt and a cashmere sweater, pinning her grandmother’s rhinestone Christmas tree pin to the front. She put her auburn hair up on top of her head and wore the brightest red lipstick she owned.
Although she wouldn’t bother with the seven fishes dinner, she prepared a nice shrimp cocktail and a cheese ball. Appetizers were better than dinner, anyway. The tray of food arranged, she made herself a pitcher of martinis and took everything out to the living room. The coffee table looked so festive with a Christmas candle and the food. She avoided looking at the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace; the absence of John’s books was so obvious, and she hadn’t made the effort yet to rearrange her own books.
When everything was ready, she put on her favorite Christmas music with the volume low and sat down on the couch. Taking in a deep breath, Liz felt peaceful. She was getting through the worst holiday without killing her
self or staying in bed with the covers over her head. So far, so good. Judy Garland singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played while she had the first martini. Sitting alone in her lovely living room with the perfect tree, not worrying about whether John was happy or trying to engage him was very freeing. Reaching for a shrimp, she noticed lights coming down the driveway, and a little adrenaline pumped into her blood. John is coming home! She put the martini glass and the shrimp back down and got up to look out the window, watching as the car got closer to the house. When it was directly in front of the little-used walkway, she realized with disappointment that it wasn’t John, after all, but a tow truck towing a car she didn’t recognize. A tall, distinguished-looking man got out of the passenger side of the truck and looked at the house, and then down at a piece of paper. They didn’t have numbers on the house because it was set so far off the road, so she wasn’t sure what he was trying to see.
It occurred to her that she should be frightened, but he looked like a decent person, so she opened the door. “Can I help you?” she said loudly.
He started up the walkway.
“Hi, I’m Jim Pappas, Maria’s husband.”
Liz ran through the Marias she knew. She realized she hadn’t seen Maria’s husband since her marriage to John, a million years ago.
“Oh my goodness! I didn’t recognize you. How are you?” She put her hand out to take his and was immediately at a loss for words. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“I apologize for dropping by like this. You look like you’re entertaining, too. I was on my way to Greektown, and my car died on I96. Because of it being Christmas Eve, there isn’t a mechanic on duty. I’m stranded, but I remembered John lived nearby, so I looked up your address. Gotta love smart phones. Can I wait here for Maria to pick me up?”
It was an imposition, but what did she expect him to do? “Sure, no problem,” she replied hesitantly. “And I’m not entertaining, by the way.” Where did he think all her guests had parked? Jim walked back to the tow truck for his bag and spoke to the driver. Liz waited by the front door for him to return, mind whirling. The truck left.
“I just realized it’s been over thirty years since we’ve seen each other,” Liz said, holding the door open for him to pass through.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that. I’ve never liked going to Greektown. My family’s in Chicago, so if I want Greektown, that’s where I go. My own kids take up the rest of my social calendar.”
His admission shocked Liz. She saw Maria’s children once at a family reunion at the summerhouse when the old people were still alive. Maria spent every holiday in Greektown without her children, her brothers and their wives criticizing her behind her back. Liz never inquired why they spent holidays apart.
“Well, have a seat. I was just having something to eat. Not the spread you’d get in Greektown, however.”
He followed her into the living room. “Oh, this is really nice. You have a lovely home,” he said, looking around.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“What are you having?” he asked.
“Martinis. But I have wine, beer, you name it.”
Jim wasn’t a drinker. But he was nervous and thought some alcohol might relax him now that he wasn’t driving.
“I’ll have a glass of wine,” he said.
She went through a wide doorway into the kitchen. He sat at the edge of the couch, looking around, and saw the empty bookcase shelves and the lone martini glass. Liz came in with a glass of white wine on a small silver tray, and Jim stood up.
“Fancy,” he said.
“It’s Christmas Eve.” She offered him the glass, and he took it off the tray.
“Cheers,” Jim said, holding his glass up. Bending down to get her martini glass, she tapped his.
“Merry Christmas.” They took a sip. She sat down, and he followed.
“When do you expect Maria?” Liz asked.
“I didn’t call her yet,” Jim said. “I thought maybe you’d want to drive into Greektown with me. The truth is, I have cold feet about going. Maria isn’t expecting me.” This news took Liz by surprise, and she was a little put out.
“Sorry you wasted your time, Jim. But I’m not going to Greektown. I hope I never have to go there again. Why are you going now after all these years, if I may ask?”
“My kids didn’t want to have Christmas in Saugatuck this year. Our grandkids are getting older, and they want to be home, close to friends. Maria left early, before I had a chance to think about wrangling an invitation from her.”
“I always wondered why she wasn’t with her family on Christmas. It was just strange,” Liz said, not caring if she was being harsh.
“Maria had to go into Greektown when her parents were still alive. They expected it, and she wasn’t used to standing her ground with them. I had to go to my family. Neither of us were willing to sacrifice our own traditions, and since I was the man, the kids came with me. I realize now it was a mistake. Two stubborn people refusing to compromise with two demanding families. The only time we spent Christmas together was during snowstorms when we were housebound.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Liz replied. “But I’m still not going to Greektown.”
“Can I ask you a question now?”
“Sure,” Liz said, starting to feel the effects of the first martini. She leaned over for the pitcher and filled up her glass again, taking two olives from a silver tray and adding them to the glass.
“Why’s John at the summerhouse?” Jim asked.
Liz thought, Take a guess, asshole. “We’re splitting up,” Liz replied, slurring her words a little. She thought she caught a smidgen of pity in his look. “What?”
“It’s such a shame after so many years.” He was looking at her intently, sipping his wine. “Have you tried counseling?”
“We did years ago, but nothing changed, and it’s the same problems. He just doesn’t want to be bothered with a wife, a little late after all this time.”
“It’s not easy, is it?”
“Nope, especially if you’re not on the same page about the important things. You and Maria seem to have a pretty stable marriage.”
“Do we? What I think we have is an inert marriage.”
“What’s that?”
“We stay together because it’s the path of least resistance,” Jim replied. He held his glass up. “May I?”
She stood up and headed for the kitchen again. “I’ll get the bottle. Shouldn’t you call Maria?” She was in turmoil; on one hand, it made her uncomfortable that Maria’s husband would be confiding in her after fifteen minutes of conversation. She thought it was so like a man to turn the tables and make conversation about himself. But on the other hand, Jim Pappas was handsome. And he was smart and successful. It had been a while since a man tried to talk to her, and she was enjoying it. He seemed too wrapped up in himself to make a pass at her, so it was probably safe.
By midnight, they’d forgotten about John and Maria. “I guess you’re not calling your wife,” Liz said, resigned. “You can sleep in John’s room.”
“You have separate bedrooms?”
“Yes, but you didn’t hear it from me. My husband is very proud.”
“Soon to be your ex-husband.” The words had slipped out, and Jim would later blame the wine for what followed. “And I’m not surprised. It had to come out sooner or later.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Liz was leaning forward, her face flushed. She feared that he would repeat her thoughts, another human being putting into words what she’d suspected but didn’t want to accept. She sifted through their conversation and was confident she hadn’t let anything slip out.
“Your husband is gay.” He sat back in the chair with a thud, smiling. “I’ve always said it, but Maria wouldn’t hear of it. John’s gay. There’s no way around it.”
Liz stood up, piling snack plates and crumpled napkins in a heap. “You’ve got a lot o
f nerve.”
“Why? It’s not a secret, Liz. His own brothers have come to our house and congregated around the kitchen table, lamenting about why John doesn’t face up to it.”
Hands trembling, Liz walked back to the kitchen with the pile, her thoughts in turmoil. Jim followed her and started to speak, but she put her finger up to shut him up.
“Please, don’t say another word. I was married to John, not his brothers, or you. Our problems aren’t of a sexual nature, not that I would discuss it with you if they were. You’ve got some caricature of a man you are trying to pin on my husband, and it doesn’t work in this case.” She started to load the dishwasher, wishing she could ask him to leave and then remembering he didn’t have a car to leave in.
“Look, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. My son is gay, you know that. I probably have a touch of it myself. But John doesn’t know it. That family set all the children up for failure with a set of unreasonable expectations. They were bound to fail because none of them are authentic.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“We Greeks are proud,” Jim said. “Failure or the appearance of failure is avoided at all costs.”
“Boy, that’s a sure way to screw up a kid. Not everyone is going to be Plato.”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I mean. Maria and I raised our kids to be the best at what they do well. You’re supposed to discover what you want to be when you grow up, and then you go after it. No one is expecting greatness, just the best they are capable of. Not like they were raised. The old man wanted each kid to pay their own way, but it was his way: college, work and marriage.”
“The Zannos’ are successful,” Liz said.
“Yes, they are,” Jim replied, “in their careers.”
