The Long Fall

by Daniel Quentin Steele

  “Where is Bobby? I have enough for both of you.”

  “He’s out of here.”

  “He usually comes in to say hello.”

  BJ stepped into the den.

  “He wanted to, but I told him you were probably too busy.”

  “Why?”

  “He makes me feel creepy, sometimes, mom. The way he stares at you.”

  “BJ, it’s just the age. All your friends stare, but they do that with any moms or your teachers, don’t they?”

  “Not like they do....anyway, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?”

  There was something in the tone of his voice that made warning tingles go off.

  “What?”

  “I – uh....I...don’t get mad about this, okay?”

  “Mad about what?”

  “I called Grandma Maitland yesterday. I want to go spend the rest of the summer with her and Grandpa Charles.”

  “But...what about your summer classes...why?”

  “That summer class is a waste mom. I don’t even think I’m going to do well enough to get credits. And I can make up everything in the Fall. Anyway, I’ve met this girl online. She’s 15 and she lives in Orlando.

  “Grandma Maitland said she’d chauffeur me around on dates. I won’t get in any trouble, I promise. Grandma said she’d chaperone me.”

  She put the papers down and motioned to him. He came over and sat on the couch beside her. She took his hands in hers.

  “BJ, if this is about Doug...I broke up with him. We’re through. He won’t be back here. I promise.”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “It’s not that mom. It’s...everything....it’s dad and the divorce and Doug and...it’s just been a real bad summer. I just want to get away for awhile. It’s just for a month.”

  She was determined not to cry.

  “Oh..okay. You’ve got to promise not to be a burden for your grandmother and grandfather. And don’t get into any trouble. You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah....I know.”

  She found herself hugging him and fighting the urge to cry. It was only for a month.

  “Grandma is driving up here tomorrow. She’ll be here about three.”

  “No, tell her to be here at 6. I want to say goodbye to you.”

  “Awe mom...”

  “I’m going to say goodbye to you. Say yes or don’t go.”

  “I’ll call her.”

  When he had gone to his room she sat back on the couch and tried to grade papers. It was impossible. If she was fired tomorrow, she couldn’t look at another one.

  She tried to turn on the television and watch something, but 30 minutes later she had no idea what she’d been watching.

  She picked the paperback Clint Abbott had given her. Anything, if it took her mind off her train wreck of a life.

  At 2 a.m. she found herself punching a number into the phone by her bed.

  “Hello?”

  “I guess you don’t get a lot of calls at 2 a.m. from fans.”

  “All the time, actually. Usually not from weeping fans.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “I might be a little drunk. Did I wake you up? How did you answer on the first ring?”

  “I’m a night owl. I get by on four or five hours of sleep. They say as you get older you need less sleep. And why are you crying?”

  “I could say it was that book of yours, but I don’t want you to get a swelled head. I’m just in a blue mood.”

  “Admit it, it was the book.”

  “Alright, you beat it out of me. Why the hell didn’t the gunfighter go back across the Rio Grande to get her. Her husband was dead and he had been an asshole. He cheated on her all over the place. He didn’t deserve a faithful wife. The gunfighter loved her. Why did he leave her alone in that big house?”

  “It made a better ending. I’d rather have readers crying than saying, ‘awwwww’.”

  Then: “Besides, it’s open ended. There’s nothing to say he didn’t go back to get her. That’s what makes a good novel. You don’t know what happens after ‘the end’. And besides, if it was real, it all happened a century ago. They’d both be dead now.”

  She took another sip of Goldschläger and said, “How could a cynic like you write a book like this?”

  “What can I say? I’m talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, you’re welcome. For what?”

  “For letting me get out of my skin, even for a few hours. Anyway, good night.”

  Somehow she was able to sleep.

  Tuesday, July 19, 2005 – 11 P.M.

  I held one of the two most beautiful women I had known in my arms and listened to her breathe. It was the easy, rhythmic breathing of sleep. I couldn’t sleep.

  It was wrong. I was wrong. I didn’t want it to end. But as I’d read somewhere, tomorrow always comes. Tomorrow would come and then tomorrow and the best week of my life in a long time would end.

  I felt the way I had the night my father walked out the door. Terrified and helpless.

  Wednesday, July 20, 2005 – 6 P.M.

  “Elinor, you’re looking well.”

  The short slender woman looked up at Debbie without smiling.

  “Thank you. Is Bill Jr. ready? We’re going to have to drive straight through to get back home before the wee hours. I wish we’d been able to pick him up as we originally planned.”

  “I’m sorry, but I wanted to say goodbye. I’m going to miss him.”

  “Too bad you don’t miss other important things. You’re willing to let other things go. I guess this will just give you more time for....your personal life.”

  Debbie reached out and almost touched the older woman, but the glare she received stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, Elinor. All you’ve heard is Bill’s version of things and I know...I must look pretty bad in it. But...there are two sides to every story.”

  Elinor Maitland Goldman just stared.

  “He risked his life to save you nearly 20 years ago. I told him at the time that he was a fool. A pretty face and a great body didn’t make for a good wife. I told him...”

  She looked around and made sure that BJ was nowhere around.

  “I told him then that you were a slut, Debbie Bascomb. No decent woman would have let herself get in the situation you were in. But he let you seduce him and I held my peace all these years. You gave him two good children. I’ll give you that.

  “But I always knew you’d break his heart. And you did. But I think you finally went too far. Bringing in your ‘friend’ and having sex with him in what used to be Bill’s bed – I hope that finally ended things. He’s hurting, Debbie, but he’ll find someone else. Someone worthy of him. And you can – resume your old lifestyle.”

  “I’m not going to fight with you, Elinor, not where BJ might hear. Bill’s your son, and I don’t blame you for taking his part. I’ll let it go at that.”

  BJ came out with Elinor’s husband, a big, stoop-shouldered, gray-haired man. They carried three suitcases. While Charles carried them out to their car, Debbie grabbed BJ and hugged him tight despite his squirming.

  “I want you to call me.”

  “I will, Mom. Jeez, you act like I’m moving to Siberia. It’s only a couple of hours away.”

  He walked out and Elinor lingered for just a moment. She didn’t have to say anything. She just smiled a slight, triumphant smile, then turned and walked out the door.

  For a long time after the car pulled away she just sat in the den. It was almost as if the room rang with sounds from the past. She could hear Bill asking her if she wanted something to drink, to rub her neck, or telling her some funny story from the world of the law.

  She could hear Kelly’s stereo or hear her telling her friends what a hunk so and so was. BJ would be popping his head in the door telling her there was absolutely nothing to eat in the house.

  The phantom sounds died away. It was so silent she wanted to
scream. She remembered the nightmare. It wasn’t true, but....Bill was gone. And Kelly was gone. And BJ was gone. And Doug was gone. And Clarice was under the ground....

  Wednesday, July 20, 2005 – 11:55 P.M.

  “Hi.”

  “Oh, hi, Debbie. Read any more of my books?”

  “No, Clint.”

  “I just thought...you sound down...like you’ve been crying.”

  “A little bit.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “You said you were a night owl. Could I interest you in a drink, or coffee, or something?”

  “You want to go out at this time of night on a school night?”

  “No, I thought you might come to...my place. I can give you directions.”

  “Um....”

  “I have coffee, soft drinks, alcohol...anything you might be interested in. Is there anything I could offer you that you might be interested in? I mean...anything...”

  “Debbie...”

  “Clint, we’re grown-ups. I don’t want to be coy. I want you to come to me. I.....my daughter moved out on me, my son left for a month to be with his grandparents and get away from me, my husband who I’m divorcing is at sea, and I kicked the man I’ve been sleeping with out of my bed because I didn’t think my underage daughter could keep her hands off him....

  “I am so lonely I want to scream and I don’t want to go to a bar and pick up some stranger and bring him home. I’m not that much a slut –yet – no matter what anyone thinks...I like you...I think I do....We don’t even have to do – do anything – if you don’t want to...I just want someone to hold me...someone to be here...”

  “I’m sorry, Debbie. It’s tempting, but no.”

  “I’m sorry too. I must sound so damned pathetic.”

  “No. I’m not blind and I’m not dead below the waist, but it would be a pity fuck or a – I’m lonely – fuck. I have a little pride. When you’re out of your mind crazy for my body, I’ll be over there, but not tonight.”

  “Just my unbelievable luck. I wind up with two saints. Saint Bill who cares about the world more than my pussy and Saint Clint who is too good for a pity fuck. What are men coming to?”

  “I’m not a saint, Debbie. Actually...I’m kind of engaged right now. There’s a lady in my bed. I caught this call out in the kitchen. I was getting...something to get our energy back up....we’re both kind of tired right now...she’s not you, but I’m not going to kick her out of bed. A gentleman doesn’t do that.”

  “Oh God, just shoot me. Or maybe I’ll do the job myself. I can’t believe I’m begging a stranger to do me and he’s got another woman in bed.”

  “Debbie, listen to me. I know you won’t believe me now, but you need this. You’ve never really been alone. But your kids are going to be gone soon no matter what. And Bill will be gone and if you don’t have a steady, you’ll be hitting the bars to avoid sleeping alone and then you really will be a slut...in reality as well as perception. I don’t think you want that.

  “You need to learn how to live alone, whether Doug or Bill or somebody else comes along later....”

  “What made you so smart?”

  “I lived through it. You’ll never be as alone as you are right now...but you can make it....”

  Thursday, July 21, 2005 – 8 A.M.

  I woke to a still ship. The constant motion of the ship pushing through ocean tides had ceased. There was a tiny sway as the ship sat in its harbor, but we were home. The warm body in my arms purred and rolled to bury her head in my chest. My cock was so wiped out I don’t think I could even remember what a hardon was. But I knew. After this past weekend I knew what great sex was like again. Not married sex. Great sex.

  “So we are here?”

  “Seems so. Do you need to be anywhere?”

  “Non.”

  She slid down until her mouth was even with my cock and she gulped at it like a hungry early bird after my worm. She licked and sucked with determination, but he was down for the count.

  “Merde!”

  “I agree. But you killed him.”

  “He died a good death...in the service of the greater good.”

  “And the greater good was....?”

  “What else? Making me cum and cum and cum.....etc.”

  “He died a happy death.....”

  She brought her head up laughing and tried to tickle my tonsils again. We rolled around a couple of times and finally came to rest with her pinning me down.

  “I don’t think I will let you go. I will keep you a prisoner here in this room. Smuggle in food and drink and occasional pussy to keep you happy for the next few months.”

  “Would that you could, Aline. Would that you could.”

  She sighed and then rolled over to lie next to me.

  “I am not sorry. And I have no regrets.”

  I cupped her face in my left hand and ran the fingers of my right hand across those luscious lips.

  “I have regrets, more than a few, mon cher, but I’m not sorry. For even one second of what we had.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “Only in dreams. Or you might see my picture on some web site if I get in the news again.”

  “You could pull rank, get someone else to cover for you, and sail with us next time. It will only be a week. Take a month's vacation and sail with us until we leave for our next port of call.”

  I pulled away from her and sat on the side of the bed.

  “No. I couldn’t. If I could do that, take time off for someone important in my life, I wouldn’t have needed this trip and I never would have met you. There are things I need to do.”

  She reached out and ran her hand down from my shoulder to my hand.

  “Would you have come, even if you could have gotten away?”

  I captured her hand in mine and squeezed.

  “No. I wouldn’t come back. And I won’t. If I did let myself, if I let myself be on the same ship with you, the same thing would happen.”

  “And that would be so terrible?”

  “Not for you, Aline. You are comfortable with your life. I....I’m not...and I can’t be. I....I won’t use the ‘L’ word, but you know I have feelings for you. And I can’t have those feelings for a married woman...who loves her husband and has a son waiting for her.

  “I have to live with myself, Aline. I have to be able to look in the mirror and like the person looking back at me.”

  Her eyes were bright.

  “I will think of you, William Maitland, and often. Will you think of me when you return to your office and your life as the Angel of Death?”

  “Only every day.”

  I got up and took a quick shower, then changed into the outfit I’d selected, putting my cell phone in my pocket. I’d had it turned off the entire trip. As soon as I stepped off the Bonne Chance, I’d turn it back on. And real life would resume.

  I had one suitcase and it was packed and ready. I had already filled out the manifest with only the gifts I’d gotten for BJ and Kelly listed. But it would probably still take a couple of hours to get off the ship.

  I looked over at the bed. She lay naked and exquisite, pink and white against the ruby red of the sheets.

  “You’re not going to get dressed and see me off? You’re going to sleep in?”

  She looked at the ceiling.

  “No. I will not watch as you leave the Bonne Chance. We’ll say goodbye here. And I won’t report to duty until we get ready to start preparing the ship for the next cruise.”

  I put the suitcase next to the door and sat back down on the bed. I kissed the curve under her shoulder, rolled her over and placed a kiss on the nipple of each one of those exquisite breasts, and then gave her a last kiss on the lips.

  “It has been my great pleasure to have known you, in every sense of the word, Ms. des-Jardins.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Maitland.”

  I stood up to go but I couldn’t leave. I sat down one last time.

  “A
line, it’s not for me to tell you how to live your life. Just...be careful. I know you love this life, but what is it worth if you lose your husband and son to it? Will this life be enough if it’s just you? I...would hate to see you make the mistake I did. It’s too late for me. It’s not too late for you.”

  I got up, picked up my suitcase and walked out the door. I didn’t look back. I had no photographs, nothing of her to bring back with me. But it really didn’t matter.

  Her face was engrained in my memory. Pictures can be lost or destroyed, Nothing could touch the memories in my mind.

  I made my way to Deck Quatre which was where disembarking passengers were already starting to mill around, I saw Dan Jenkins and Caroline. He waved at me and as I approached he came over to shake my hand.

  “It was a pleasure taking this cruise with you, Mr. Maitland. You ever need life or homeowner’s insurance, give me a call,” he said, slipping me a business card.

  “I’ll be sure to. You take care of your new wife. They don’t come along every day,”

  As I got closer to the checkout booths where bored customs officers were asking passengers what they were bringing back, I realized Father Dunleavy was immediately ahead of me. He had one suitcase smaller than mine.

  “Father,” I called to him and he looked back at me.

  “Mr. Maitland, we keep running into each other. Are you ready to resume your life?”

  ‘Not really, but I’ll have to. Where are you headed?”

  “No rest for the weary. The Vatican has asked me to lead a delegation to Rwanda to try to head off a resurgence in the Hutu-Tutsi conflicts. It’s been simmering underground for a few years, but there are fears it’s about to re-awaken. I’m heading for the Jacksonville Airport to pick up a ride that will take me to France and from there to Africa.”

  I shook his hand.

  “Well, be careful. I hope you’re as successful this time as last.”

  “That’s out of my hands. It’s God’s will. But thank you for your kind words. I will pray for you in all areas of life.”

  “I don’t do it much, but I’ll pray for you, Father.”

  He turned back to the line and was called forward. I wondered if I’d ever see him again, other than in newscasts.

  An hour and half later I was walking down the gangplank to the soil of Jacksonville, Florida. I took a breath of hot, humid July air. It felt as if I was walking out of a dream back into my life.