Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  ~~~~~~~~

  “Damn it, I’ve been cleaning for a week, and I still don’t feel like I have this place in shape. I need more time! They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon… shit, I’m just not ready,” I was ranting half to myself, half to Michael as I moved around the apartment straightening, dusting, vacuuming – finding hiding places for things like the water pipe.

  “Will you stop? Please babe, the place looks great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this clean before,” he said from his seat on the couch.

  “What? Are you trying to tell me that it usually looks like shit – that I don’t do a good job with housework?” I protested.

  “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all and you know it!” he retorted. “Everything is sparkling, there’s not a crumb in the kitchen… I could eat dinner off the floor.”

  “And I washed the windows … can you tell?”

  “Yes, I can tell,” he sighed shaking his head. “Come over here a minute, will you?”

  I put down the dust rag, and made my way over to the couch. Michael reached up, took my hand, and pulled me down next to him. “It’s all gonna be okay, you know that don’t you?” he murmured in my ear. “They’re your parents. They love you, and they’re only gonna be here for two nights, so relax and stop cleaning.”

  “Yeah, well you don’t know them,” I said snuggling down onto his shoulder putting my arm around his chest. He rested his chin on top of my head, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Do you want to meet them?” I asked, my voice muffled.

  He hesitated, and then asked, “Who are you going to tell them I am?”

  Lifting my head, I said, “I’m going to tell them you’re Michael Nowak, my mechanic and my boyfriend.”

  I could see the corners of his mouth curl up as he said, “Make that your boyfriend first and then your mechanic, and the answer is yes.”

  I kissed him and said, “Okay, it’s a deal. We’ll go out to dinner Wednesday night – they’re leaving for St. Louis Thursday morning.”

  My parents arrived the next day around 3:00 pm. I got them settled into my bedroom – I would be sleeping on the couch for the next two nights. I spent the remainder of the afternoon showing them the neighborhood; all the new construction, the great little shops, how close it was to Lincoln Park, and convenient to the bus route for school – all the things I could think of that were positive. We ate at one of the new restaurants in the park, RJ Grunts – a trendy burger type joint, but the food was good. All three of us were avoiding any mention of subjects that could trigger an argument, but at the end of our early dinner, I asked if they would like to see The Canteen.

  “I didn’t think you’d want us there,” my father stated watching me for a reaction.

  “No, it’s okay, I made arrangements with one of the owners for us to stop by before they opened so you could see the place. It’s not fancy, but I… Well, they’ve been good to me there, so please, please don’t embarrass me.”

  They looked at each other; my mother started to protest, but thought better of it and agreed. “Good, it’s close to the apartment, so we don’t even have to go out of our way,” I said.

  I pounded on the metal doors. Charlie answered smiling – he was actually dressed quite conservatively for him. I introduced everyone, and we made our way down the stairs. I was so tense. My mother was not pleased; I could see her reacting to the smell of booze and cigarettes. The cleaning crew had been there a few days before, but the stains on the carpet were permanent and looked horrible. She remained quiet, her eyes taking in the surroundings. However, my father was doing better than I expected. Charlie pulled a leather case from under the bar saying, “Jackie told us you were on your way to the DAV Convention. This was presented to my grandfather after WWI – I inherited it when my father died and usually keep it safe at home, but I thought you’d like to see it.”

  “What is it?” I asked, curious, leaning in closer to see. This was not the way I had envisioned this meeting taking place; it actually seemed to be going well – whatever Charlie was up to, so far I liked it.

  “It’s the Medal of Honor. His grandfather had to have been a very brave man to get this,” my father replied reaching out to touch it with his fingertips.

  Over a beer, Charlie gave my father the details of the battle that earned his grandfather the medal. My mother and I both refused the drink Charlie offered, and sat quietly listening to the tale. After a few minutes, Charlie turned to me, but aiming his comments to my parents said, “You’ve got a great daughter here, Mr. Moretti, you should be proud of her. I hope my daughter, she’s just 8 now, turns out as well.”

  “Thank you Charlie, I appreciate it – her mother and I are very proud of her. I trust you’ll make sure she’s safe when she’s here – in your establishment.” His eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, sir, we won’t let anything happen to her. This place may not look like much, but all the regulars think the world of her, so she has lots of ‘big brothers’,” he replied, starting to move towards the stairs. I had turned at least 14 shades of red, was protesting the conversation, and being completely ignored by both of them.

  On the walk back to the apartment my father declared that he didn’t like the place – wasn’t at all sure how safe it was – but he did like Charlie, so it would be alright if I continued to work there while I was in school. “But you should have told us the truth, Jacqueline. Your mother and I aren’t monsters you know – we only want what’s best for you.”

  My mother was griping about the general condition of the place, saying it needed to be cleaned better – then pointed out how hurtful it was to be lied to all the time.

  I hadn’t answered much while walking, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk, but as we got into the elevator to go up to the third floor I bit my lower lip, took a deep breath, then quipped, “Fine, you want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Right? Then… I’ll tell you.”

  Turning the lock on the apartment door I said, “I filed for a divorce last month, and it should be final by the end of the year.”

  “Oh no, Jackie! You promised you’d try, that you’d wait and not do anything rash,” my mother moaned.

  “I did try. I told you I went to see him. I told you he hit me. What the hell do you want me to do – stay married just so you won’t have to tell the almighty family?”

  I could feel my voice rising, knew I was going to explode, no matter what they said, so instead I went into the bathroom, semi-slamming the door behind myself to take a calming breath. I wet a couple of Kleenex, and dabbed the cool water into the corners of my eyes, then closed the toilet lid, sat down, leaned forward and held my head in my hands, trying to think. Remember what Michael said – just talk to them, they love me, care about me, they are NOT the enemy… Just tell them as much of the truth as you can… His words echoed around and around in my head – I wanted to believe him, that it would be okay, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had failed – no matter how proud they told Charlie they were of me, I had screwed things up in their eyes, and they’d hate me even more once they figured it out.

  Shit, why had I hidden the Valium in the back of my closet with the water pipe? If it was still in the bathroom, I swear I’d have taken the whole bag full. Or a gun, a gun would be quick and easy. I didn’t have one of course, but at the moment I wished there was one under the sink. A thought flashed through my mind. I dug around in the bottom of my purse, found and swallowed half a Valium left from a few weeks ago that I had stashed away for an ‘emergency’ just like this one. It wasn’t enough to do anything, but it might help. Well one thing is for sure – I’m not going to say anything about Valium to them, I thought to myself – this truth thing had to be on a ‘need to know’ basis.

  I must have been in the bathroom too long – my mother was knocking on the door. “Are you alright Jacqueline? Please come out.”

  “I’m fine, I’ll be right out. I guess something about dinner didn’t agre
e with me… just give me another minute,” I called back. I wet the Kleenex again, and then flushed the empty toilet. Great way to start being honest, I told myself in the mirror smiling – start with a little lie about dinner. Hmph!

  When I came out, my father was sitting on the couch in the living room – he had turned on the TV, but wasn’t watching it. My mother was in the kitchen making tea; I accepted a cup, and joined my father at the other end of the couch. I left the chair on the opposite side of the room for my mother –I wasn’t going to let them stage this ‘talk’ the way they had at Christmas. My father stood up, walked over to the television and turned it off. Standing there looking at me he said, “So tell us what you’ve done with the divorce.”

  I told them about John Whittaker and the process. My mother started to give me some shit about making rash decisions that were irreversible, and what it would do to my ‘reputation’, but I just glared at her. I told them Stephen had left Chicago again, this time with some rich gay guy from American Airlines, and I told them more about his hospital stay before Christmas. I could no longer protect Stephen, and I wasn’t going to take all the blame anymore. My mother was crying. My father was quiet, just watching me as I spoke. “When Virginia called after Christmas looking for her family heirlooms, she brought up the subject. She said her son was not a homosexual. She told us you had invented that evil story to cover an affair you were having – is there any truth to what she said Jackie?”

  “No, there isn’t,” I hissed at him.

  “Are you sure,” he asked still focused on me, my mother was blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

  “Yes,” I said, “I’m sure. I can prove he hit me after Christmas. Joe, his ex-boss, was there… he heard the whole argument, and saw my eye, and would be willing to tell you what he knows. And I can prove he was in the hospital. I’ve got papers from the insurance company, and medical bills that were sent here in the other room.”

  I stood up, went into the bedroom, and came back with a folder full of insurance notices saying what they had covered and what they hadn’t, and tossed it down on the couch next to him. “I’m not lying about it, see for yourself,” I said. “My attorney said I should keep all of these. I may get stuck paying part of his medical bills. I don’t give a shit what Virginia says; she’s wrong. I sent her that ugly clock she was so concerned about, and a bunch of other stuff he left here too. Did she call to tell you that?”

  My father had picked up the folder, and was thumbing through the papers, pausing now and then to take a closer look at certain ones. My mother was the one who answered saying that they had only heard from her the one time. She was also trying to explain that it was only my happiness she was concerned with, not what the family thought. I sat drinking my tea, trying to keep myself under control until my father put down the folder. As soon as he did I asked, “Do you want me to try calling Joe so you can ask him about my eye?”

  “No,” he replied, “I believe you. That won’t be necessary.” Turning to look at my mother he said in an emotionless voice, “Betty, if he isn’t a ‘real man’, you can’t expect her to stay married to him.” He handed the folder to my mother. Then looking back at me said, “You need to make sure your lawyer takes care of this.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there anything else you need to tell us about,” he asked.

  I was on a roll, a winning streak, so I plowed ahead, “Yes, the mechanic you wanted to meet because he was taking such good care of the car… Well I invited him to have dinner with us tomorrow night – we’ve been dating since last summer.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you Jackie? Getting involved with someone else. For Christ’s sake!” my father bellowed his eyes growing larger as he straightened his back. “And you just said you weren’t having an affair…”

  “I’m NOT! Stephen had been gone for over four months when I met him!”

  “Your father’s right, you shouldn’t be dating anyone right now. You’re a married woman,” my mother piped up, “and I hope you’re not…” she hesitated, “not playing house with this one too. What if you got pregnant? You’d just end up having to get married again.”

  “Mom, what fuckin’ century are you living in? I’m not going to get pregnant, and I’m never marrying anyone again. The only people that thought I had to get married before, because we were living together, are the two of you, and look how that turned out!” I was on my feet pacing back and forth. It was useless to try to control myself – I could feel my head splitting open and the anger pouring out. “You’re the ones who wanted the truth. So I’m telling you – and what do you do? You condemn me. I know I’m a huge disappointment to you, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m not a fuckin’ virgin anymore, Mother, so get used to it!”

  “Don’t talk to your mother that way and use that kind of language,” my father snapped.

  “I’ll use any kind of language I want,” I yelled turning on my father. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t care if I am still legally married. Stephen’s been gone for over a year, and you think I should be sitting here alone watching TV or whatever. Michael is the only reason I haven’t slit my wrists!”

  I exhaled growing more and more agitated each second. “Sometimes I feel like I… like I just can’t deal with anything and he keeps me sane. He’s a good person… I like him… and nothing you can say is going to stop that so you might as well not even try! And oh, I almost forgot, Mom, he’s a Catholic!”

  She slammed her empty tea cup down, and went into the kitchen. I stared at my father, ready for round two or three, or whatever we were in in this prize fight. I could hear the tea kettle being filled, and placed on the stove. My mother stuck her head around the corner, and asked my father if he wanted a cup of coffee.

  “Your mother and I are just worried about you. You’re so far away from home,” he said.

  “Yeah, well I’m far away from home on purpose. You think it was fun living with the two of you, always arguing? I can’t live like that, so don’t even think about telling me to move back because I won’t go.”

  “That’s not what I said. We just wish you were closer so you could come home more often, and we could help you more.”

  “Bullshit, you don’t want to help me, you want to control me! And she wants to drag me to church!”

  My mother came around the corner of the kitchen shouting that I needed to calm down; she was not trying to get me to church, although it wouldn’t hurt; that I was only 20 years old, and didn’t know everything; that she and my father weren’t arguing as much anymore; and I could do a lot worse than being close to them.

  “Well that’s not going to happen!” I snapped. “I’m staying in Chicago. I’m finishing school right here.”

  “You won’t be able to finish school here if we stop paying your tuition. You could always transfer to a school on the east coast you know,” my father said.

  I glanced back and forth between them – livid. “You’re right,” I hollered. “You two are such hypocrites. I’ve been busting my ass to keep up with school through all this. You tell me you want the truth, then when I tell you, and when you don’t like what I said, you threaten me with money thinking I’ll cave in… Well it won’t work.” I yelled stomping around the room. “Fine, don’t pay the tuition, don’t help with the rent! I’ll figure it out on my own, but I’m not moving back to Weymouth with you!”

  The next thing I knew I was hurling my tea cup across the room, listening to it shatter against the wall, listening to my parents both screaming at me at the same time… I made a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the pictures on the wall rattled on their hooks. I sank down onto the closed toilet seat crying uncontrollably, holding my head in my hands trying to quell the shaking, and absolute rage I felt inside.

  I have no idea how long I sat there. I could hear my parents talking in the other room, but did not know what they were saying. I heard the sound of a broom as my mother cleaned up the broken tea cup.
I heard the emotions racing around in my own head, felt helpless… felt like none of this shit was worth it. Without warning my tears dried up – there was nothing left, just a hollow, useless, futile feeling. I flung the bathroom door open, and announced I was going out – they shouldn’t wait up, as I scrambled in the hall closet for my coat.

  My father stood up, putting himself between me and the door. “Go sit down, Jacqueline.”

  I stood there glaring at both of them, then, dragging my jacket along the floor behind me, made my way to the couch, and sat down without saying a word.

  “We don’t want you to move home. We want you to finish school, here, in Chicago,” my mother said; her face was as tear-stained as mine.

  “If you want us to meet this young man, then we will,” my father stated, “but you have to understand why springing him on us causes us so much concern.”

  I didn’t respond, I just sat there, numb, my head spinning, pounding. Everything seemed unreal to me – I was watching this whole scene from somewhere outside my own body… somehow detached, impersonal, but without benefit of my pixie friend. These weren’t my parents, they were people who had something they could use against me to gain control, force me to do what they wanted. I hated them at that moment and I hated myself. I felt betrayed… I felt something in my soul shift to a dispassionate place – a place where I wouldn’t hurt anymore.

  I still hadn’t spoken. I was lost in thought staring off into the blankness of the room beyond both of them when I heard my father saying, “Jackie, can you hear me? I asked you what this young man’s name was.”

  “It’s Michael… Michael Nowak,” I answered.