Heart-strong

by Bonnie McCune

  “Yes, he did. Although neither of you would know since you weren’t at the awards ceremony,” said Rachel, so sugar-sweet she could have been sucking on a peppermint.

  “That was the weekend we went to Vail,” said Donna. “Remember?”

  Jim muttered a “yes” in the lowest tone he could manage.

  “Ah. Vail? Vail. Well, see you around maybe,” Rachel squeezed out between clenched teeth. Her cart moving so quickly sparks nearly shot out from the wheels, she headed for the self checkout lane without finishing her shopping. And without stopping at Jim’s call of, “Rache, Rache. Wait a sec.”

  The incomplete shopping trip brought complaints from Scott later on. “Mom, you forgot the chocolate ice cream. And the frozen waffles for breakfast.”

  Rachel slammed three bologna and cheese sandwiches on the table, accompanying them with carrot sticks and cucumbers—she didn’t forget vegetables!—and bowls of chicken noodle soup.

  A bewildered Sharon had the audacity to ask, “I thought we were having meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

  “This is dinner,” Rachel snarled. “Take it or leave it. And don’t forget the millions of Third World residents who don’t have any dinner.” She yanked her chair out and took her seat.

  “Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” Sharon said as she bit into her sandwich. “When you start lecturing us about the Third World, you’ve either read a heartbreaking news story or you’re pissed off. Which is it?”

  “Little pitchers,” said Rachel, and jerked her head toward Scott.

  “Oh, Mom, I’d be happy to take my food into the living room and watch TV,” said Scott.

  Sharon nodded her head in agreement and waved her fingers in the direction of the living room. When Scott disappeared, she asked, “What’s up?”

  A gush of tears was Rachel’s response, and she covered her face with her hands, emitting a series of short screams in between sobs. “It’s Jim—eeek!—I ran into him tonight at Super Shop—eeek! He was with a tall, thin blonde whose son is on the soccer team—eeek! They had dinner fixings in their cart, and she oh-so-casually mentioned they’d been to Vail together.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sharon squeezed her sister’s arm. “But that doesn’t mean they’re serious.”

  “No, but it does mean he can’t be all that serious about me. That we’re not in an exclusive relationship. And you and I agree about the importance of trust and exclusivity between a man and a woman.” She sniffled mightily. “I don’t know whether to bawl or bellow.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re sad or angry.”

  “I’m ping-ponging back and forth. Sad that Jim’s not nearly as serious as I am. Pissed at that skinny blonde. She wanted to rub my nose in her little getaway with him.”

  “Eat up,” Sharon said as she handed Rachel a paper napkin to blow her nose on. “No man’s worth skipping dinner for.”

  Rachel nodded in agreement, wiped her face, and with only a few sniffles to break her concentration on food, flourished her fork with vigor. When the sisters were done with the meal and Scott dashed into the kitchen with his dinnerware, Rachel filled the sink with water and bubbles and began the dishes. She lifted the sponge in the air, squeezed soap, and considered as it dripped into the sink.

  “Oh, well, I guess he’s like all men. I don’t need ’em anyway. I’ve done fine on my own for years,” Rachel said, her jaw working back and forth.

  Sharon threw down the dishtowel and the plate she was drying. “What are you talking about? Can’t you see that you’re still reacting like you did to our family? You tried your best to patch things up between Mom and Dad, stop the arguments, be the diplomat so we’d get along. The same way with your ex. When your intrigues didn’t work, and our parents got divorced, and your ex walked out, you denied you even cared. Played tough. Built a wall around yourself. You’re so headstrong.”

  “You’re nuts. You make me sound like an immature idiot, insisting on her own way, trying to get all the attention.”

  “No.” Sharon stepped closer to Rachel and put both arms around her. “It was because you cared so much. I remember once you begged Dad to come home for a Sunday dinner because it was Mom’s birthday and she’d be brokenhearted if he didn’t show. And if I was late getting home after school, you’d run around and do my chores so I wouldn’t get in trouble. Whereas I just fought and screamed and refused to obey.”

  “I never succeeded, did I?”

  Sharon broke the hug and stepped back, still holding Rachel’s shoulders. “Nope. Then Scott’s dad, that eternal loser, you’d do back flips to help him land work or be a decent father. Praise him, build up his pathetic ego.”

  “He wanted to be a good husband and parent. He just didn’t know how,” said Rachel. “You know he was fatherless...and his mother, the less said, the better.”

  “You don’t need to make excuses for him or our father. You tried your darnedest. Their loss. But I noticed what you were doing, and it mattered to me.” Sharon looked deep in Rachel’s eyes. “I wish you knew how much you deserve a decent relationship. Maybe if you show you want Jim and need him, he’ll give himself and you a chance. Try being heart-strong for once.”

  * * *

  Text messages offer an easy way to avoid an emotionally messy situation. You can communicate without risking much of a rebuff. You can’t see degrees of disgust or repugnance in the person you’re texting. All in all, Jim decided, texting was the way to test the waters with Rachel. The memory of the surprise and pain on Rachel’s face when she’d bumped into him with Donna at the grocery store had been tough. She didn’t give him a chance to explain, had sped away with her little cart and nary a glance back, like a little old lady escaping a mugger.

  Jim admitted to himself that he swayed perilously close to a decision about actively pursuing Rachel. Surprised to find himself drawn to the ready-made family she offered, relieved when he thought about giving up his bachelor ways, and smoldering inside at the physical attraction that he felt, he hoped he could mend the rift. Rebuild a bridge with her. Sure, she wasn’t perfect—but she was pretty darn close. He opened his cell phone and began entering.

  * * *

  Rachel glanced at her cell phone. A new text.

  Jim: Hi

  Hi? What kind of a game was this? But the guy deserved a chance. She replied back the same.

  Jim: WUP?

  What’s up? Was he serious? Somewhat familiar with texting language, Rachel answered the code for “not much.” “NM.”

  Jim: Wntd xpln mkt

  Now Rachel began to get confused. Was he trying to explain how to “mark it?” Mark what? So she replied, “Mkt? Mkt what?”

  Jim: W/D. @str

  Rachel had no idea who or what “D” was. And did “str” refer to “street?” So she replied, “W/D? D who?”

  Jim: Just a fr

  This was somewhat comprehensible. Whoever D was, most probably the woman who’d been with Jim, she was just a friend. However, Rachel wasn’t ready to overlook the entire episode, so she texted back, “NOMB.” This to her meant “none of my business.”

  Not to Jim. He translated the phrase as “no obligatory message back.” So he moved on.

  Jim: R we ok?

  Rachel got on her high horse and responded, “DKDC,” meaning “don’t know, don’t care.”

  In the world of texting, misinterpretations are frequent, and Jim thought she’d said, “Dude, okay, do come.” Happy she seemed to be forgiving him, he texted back: ASAP

  Rachel: ASAP?

  Jim: SYS?

  This was wide open to misinterpretation. While Jim meant, “See you soon?”, Rachel read it as “Say you’re sorry?” She bristled. She had nothing to be sorry for, so she flashed back “RUNTS,” meaning “Are you nuts?”

  Jim was thrilled. Rachel wanted to know if he was near this street, he thought. Although he wasn’t, he wanted to respond and typed in “NN” for “not now.”

  Totally confused, Rachel could only come up with “new nu
ts” for the meaning of Jim’s response. She bristled and entered, “URPN” for a derogatory “you are a pain.”

  “You are pretty nice” was Jim’s reading. Ah, he was mending fences with Rachel. He texted back: URN2.

  You are near too? Becoming more confused by the second, Rachel wrote back “NIM,” to indicate she didn’t understand Jim’s message.

  In his lexicon, this meant “no internal message.” Now he was confused. Jim: “WYM”

  Finally, a phrase both understood. “What do you mean?” “WYM” flashed back and forth several times, adding question marks and exclamation points at each rebound.

  Jim broke the deadlock with another phrase whose interpretation was fairly consistent: SAT. FRS?

  Rachel read it and melted. “Sorry. Are we friends?” Jim did want to mend fences. She couldn’t resist the appeal and replied “FRS” Yes, they were friends.

  * * *

  The whims of nature play havoc with Denver weather at least once every year or two. This January was time for the strangest mixture of snow and sleet that had ever hit the metropolitan area. Huge dark storm clouds collided with a day of balmy, sunny weather to release thunderstorms, then a cold front, a frigid wave of wind moved in to freeze the rain into ice, followed by clouds so heavy with the white stuff that they swept tops of buildings. The city thought it was prepared, but who can be ready for two feet of snow on top of sheets of ice? Residents were instructed to stay where they were, an unnecessary command. After eighteen hours of snowfall, the flakes began to taper off the next morning.

  “We’re lucky we didn’t even try to get out of the building,” Rachel said. She was busy creating makeshift insulation for the windows—extra bedding clothespinned to curtain rods. “I called work, and someone had changed the phone message to tell callers the office was closed. So no worries there.”

  “At the school, too,” called Sharon from the kitchen, where she was brewing an enormous pot of lentil and vegetable soup so potent it would fill everyone’s nutrition needs for several weeks. As school secretary, she was the one who had to record the message. “I hope all the students are okay.”

  Rachel looked down from her vantage point on a wobbly ladder at Scott in front of the television. He was trying to watch cartoons, but the connections to every station were bad, and pictures and sound flickered off and on. Looked like Mother Nature was cooperating with mother Rachel, who limited access to television. She wouldn’t have to play the bad guy today.

  The hours were easy to fill. The three built an indoor tent with sheets draped over chairs, then crawled around to play spies. A vicious game of Monopoly ended with Sharon as champion. By noon, all were ready for a meal.

  “Lunch is ready,” she called. But as Rachel and Scott headed for the dining table, the lights in the apartment flickered, dimmed, and went out. Everyone halted mid-action, waiting for the power to resume. It didn’t.

  “Time for the candles,” said Rachel, suppressing a surge of panic. Was the heat somehow related to electricity? Would the thermostat stop functioning, leaving them chilled to the bone? And what about the water pipes? Would they freeze, then break? Rachel chattered with the lightheartedness of a drunken sailor to deflect any anxiety Scott might feel.

  Balancing a variety of tapers from holidays past—red, green, brown, orange—she placed them in key spots around the room. “The one thing they never tell you about having candles on hand for blackouts. If you’re in the dark, how do find your candles?” she was joking when a knock came at the door.

  “Probably the old lady down the hall,” said Sharon. “She’s alone and may not have candles. Or just wants company.”

  Rachel scooted to the door, candle in hand. She opened it to find Jim shaking snow from his hat and jacket. Dumbfounded, she failed to think of one reason for his presence and simply stood open-mouthed until a globule of liquid wax dropped on her hand and made her gasp.

  “May I come in?” Jim asked, now stripping off his gloves and unwinding a muffler that must have been at least ten feet long from around his neck. “It’s bitter cold outside. I’m already frozen just from walking the one block from my place.”

  She stepped away, shielding the flame from any waver of air, and let him in.

  “I started worrying about you and Scott in this storm. And Sharon, too, of course,” he said. “I know it’s tapering off, but the radio’s going on and on about stocking supplies and what to do in an emergency. I know you don’t have family close by, and I thought you might need help. That’s what friends do for friends. Looks like I was right, too. Your power’s out.”

  The breath came and went in Rachel’s lungs faster and faster as her irritation built. How dare he assume she needed help! After hemming and hawing in the grocery store with another woman with whom he was quite obviously on intimate terms. Was Rachel any less capable than that woman, Donna, who exuded confidence and competence? But as she was ready to explode with a tirade of objections and accusations, Sharon showed up at her side, giving her a small poke in the ribs.

  “Why, how nice, Jim. We are having some problems,” said Sharon. “The electricity went out about twenty minutes ago. So we need help consuming the enormous pot of lentil soup I just made.”

  Sharon’s poke reminded Rachel of the advice from several nights ago. When you show you want him and need him, he may give himself and you a chance.

  Rachel took a deep breath and started slowly. “I’m surprised to see you here.” She struggled mightily not to add to that statement with a rude comment about other friends or demands on your time. “But grateful. Yes, I was just worrying if the lack of power means the furnace will stop working. Do you know?”

  Jim frowned. “No, I don’t know. Sounds reasonable. But I’m sure the city will make getting the juice back on a top priority, so let’s not be concerned yet. More important, do you have food and water? Emergency lights? Lots of blankets and sweaters?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes. But thanks for asking.”

  Sharon broke in, hospitable as a discount store greeter. “Why not stay and have lunch with us? It’s certainly more comfortable than braving the cold again.” She led the way into the dining room.

  Jim surveyed the table that boasted homemade soup, crackers, butter, inelegant and obviously homemade stoneware, and a bowl of fruit. The flicker of warm yellow candlelight on the faces of Rachel, Scott and Sharon created a stark contrast to sleet and snow outside the window. “Sure thing. Thanks.”

  Scott was a perfect host, badgering Jim with questions about professional soccer teams as well as lecturing him on the nutritional value of lentil and veggie soup, which he’d clearly absorbed from Rachel and Sharon, and pointing out the earth-toned stoneware, created by his mother. He eased the slight tension that existed between Rachel and Jim, and by the end of lunch, everyone was relaxed, smiling and chatting. Sharon stepped to the window and pushed back the blankets, revealing mounds of snow that covered the yards, sidewalks and streets, obscured the parked vehicles, and bent tree limbs nearly to the ground.

  “Boy, we’re buried,” she said. She sounded thrilled, not distressed.

  Hands linked behind his head, Jim asked, “How’s the snow shoveling for the building? Although the scene is so pristine and beautiful, I almost hate to ruin it. It would make a wonderful painting—all white and blurry.”

  “Kind of nice to be isolated like this. Nature-bound,” said Rachel.

  Jim nodded in agreement. “Practicalities must be addressed, though. Safety. Do they do a good job with the sidewalks?”

  “Afraid not,” said Rachel. “The manager doesn’t live on site, and with this weather, he may not even be able to make it here.”

  Jim straightened. “Can you get to the shovels?”

  “Sure. They’re in the closet under the stairs.”

  “What do you say, pal?” Jim turned to Scott. “Shall we give the manager and your family a hand? And work off some of the calories from lunch?”

  With this suggestion, a
ll four wound up outside, although they spent more time tossing snowballs and running and screaming from one another than shoveling the white stuff. As dark descended and the quartet returned to the dark apartment, they quieted. Sharon flicked on a handy flashlight and began lighting a few candles.

  “Looks like the power’s still off,” said Jim.

  “Yes, and so’s the heat,” Rachel said. “Brrr. We should leave our coats on.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jim said slowly. “You really should get out of here and spend the night somewhere with a functioning furnace. Why don’t we all head over to my place? I have electricity, at least I did when I left, and we can heat up some frozen pizzas for dinner. As for beds, it’s a little primitive, but I have several air mattresses you can use.”

  “We couldn’t possibly—” Rachel began.

  Sharon dug an elbow in Rachel’s ribs. “That’s a great idea,’ she said. “Good that you’re only—what?—a block away? Thanks for the offer. We’ll go pack some necessities.”

  As the sisters headed toward their bedrooms, Rachel hissed at Sharon. “What’s the idea?”

  “You’re right—he’s a great guy. I’m giving you two an opportunity to be together more.”

  Lugging only one backpack or tote each, the three Kinseys joined Jim for a short but extremely difficult walk to his place. So deep and wet was the snow that it formed enormous pads around their boots, forcing them to pull up and push down as if traversing wet cement. The block took twenty-five minutes to cover.

  They reached the entry to his apartment house and paused between the iron railings on the top level of the stoop to brush snow off their heads, shoulders and boots.

  “I still have juice,” said Jim, pointing up toward the porch light that turned their surroundings into a glistening spectacle of snow and ice.

  “Juice?” called Scott from the sidewalk where he still was decimating snowbanks by lying down and making snow angels. “I could use some. Or better yet, hot chocolate.”

  “Hey-ya, kid.” A slurred voice came from a bulky figure lumbering from side to side on the walkway. “Ya need help?”