Shelter Me

by Juliette Fay

  She was fired, her nursing license was revoked, and she was indicted for narcotics theft with intent to distribute. Hospital administration didn’t believe she was taking them herself. Even high, she still did her job as well as anyone. She pled guilty to the lesser charge of theft and got five to ten years in MCI Framingham.

  “But wait a minute,” Janie said, as Tug finished the last bites of his sandwich. “You said she served you divorce papers. Why did she want a divorce from you?”

  “Yeah,” said Tug, setting the plate on the floor. He leaned back in the chair, ran a hand back across his head. “I was all set to leave her. She’d lied to me, hurt people. She was in jail, for chrissake. And she didn’t ask me to wait. Nope. She knew I had every right.”

  But then one day, a month or so after she was gone, he was watching the news. In fact he’d been watching it for days. Hurricane Katrina was busy battering the Gulf of Mexico, and selfishly, Tug admitted, it was a welcome distraction from his own trouble. “Gave me a hell of a perspective, too. Here I was, safe and sound, drowning in nothing more than my own self-pity, and down South people were literally drowning in their own homes.”

  The thing that impressed him the most were the emergency workers. “Guys were lowering themselves from helicopters, dropping into that toxic water, trying to find and rescue people they’d never even met. And here I wouldn’t drive in the comfort of my air-conditioned truck over to Framingham to visit a woman I’d loved all my life.”

  He started going to see her on Saturdays. If he couldn’t visit, he wrote. He sent her things. She accepted all of this with gratitude, even humility, which he’d never seen in her before. She was changing, he could tell, and he had hopes that it wasn’t too late for them. After several years of exemplary behavior she was released early. When they got the word last December, he went for his Saturday visit with a head full of plans for their future. She put an end to that right away. She thought they should separate. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t believe he’d spent years waiting for her, only to be cut loose. He’d jumped into the toxic water, and she was waving him off.

  But she hadn’t led him on, he had to admit. She’d never talked of a future with him. Purposely, almost superstitiously, they had talked only of the present, her computer skills classes, his work on his grandfather’s house. Now he fought with her, railed about the effort he’d made to mend their marriage. She hadn’t known that was his intention, she said. She thought he was just lonely.

  Still, he couldn’t believe that she preferred a life without him. Finally she said, “You know what, Tug? You remind me. And I just don’t want to be reminded.”

  “HOLY COW,” MURMURED JANIE. She shifted onto her side, stiff and aching, she realized, from having sat in the same position listening for so long.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I think she must have headed for a divorce lawyer straight from prison because she had me served about a week after her release.” He didn’t contest it—what would be the use? They divvied things up pretty quickly. He gave her the house in Northboro and moved into his grandfather’s place here in Pelham. “Want to hear something funny? The divorce became final on my birthday in July. You brought me that cake, remember?”

  “God, I had no clue.”

  “I wasn’t exactly advertising.”

  “It was Dylan’s idea.”

  “I know,” he said. “Still, it felt pretty good to have a beautiful woman bring me chocolate on such a hell of a day.”

  Janie lowered her chin, gave him the warning look.

  “So I think you’re attractive. So what,” he countered, rising. “It’s not like it’s late-breaking news.” He leaned over toward her, felt her forehead. “Still a little warm. You should take more ibuprofen in—” he looked at his watch. “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  “It’s three thirty. I gotta get over to the job before the crew takes off and leaves power tools all over the yard.”

  “Sorry I kept you so long.”

  “My fault.”

  “I asked,” she said. “I’m glad you told me. Have a good week if I don’t see you.”

  “Maybe I’ll make a quick stop tomorrow just to check up on you.”

  “On a Wednesday?” Janie raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

  “Okay, maybe not!”

  “No,” she said. “Come.”

  THE NEXT DAY, JANIE was no better. She knew it was a bug of some kind, the flu maybe, but she couldn’t help but worry that it was something worse. Perhaps it was the opening salvo of some sinister disease, nibbling at her now in anticipation of the larger bites to come. How do single mothers manage not to panic every time they sneeze? she wondered. She thought of Christopher Reeve, the actor who was paralyzed by a fall from a horse and died young from complications. His wife died of cancer not long after, leaving their thirteen-year-old son an orphan. It happens to people with every possible resource, she thought. It could definitely happen to me.

  Aunt Jude was busy with the Book and Knickknack Swap she had organized at the Senior Center, so Cormac picked Dylan up for school. He said he didn’t worry so much about leaving the bakery, now that Barb was there for backup. “She can find the register tapes faster than I can these days. And she’s better with snotty customers, God knows.”

  Janie crawled into the shower for a quick rinse while Cormac fed Dylan and Carly a breakfast of day-old crullers. In clean pajamas, she dragged her quilt downstairs and set herself up on the huge leather couch. It enveloped and soothed her, in part because it was so cool and soft, and in part because it was Shelly’s. Janie missed Shelly and vowed to dislike the new boyfriend no matter how handsome, rich, and well-housed he might be.

  Cormac left with Dylan, and Carly was happy to have free reign of the living room, playing with her toys, switching the TV off and on, crawling up into Janie’s lap and then right back down again. She liked to sit and look at her board books, turning the pages with her thumbs, her little back so straight and noble looking. At what age do kids learn to slouch? Janie wondered. Her listless brain offered no answer.

  Tug came by just before noon. He sat on the edge of the couch and checked her temperature with his hands. “Poor girl,” he said. “You showered?”

  “Yeah, I was grossing myself out.”

  “Your shampoo smells good.” He brought Carly’s highchair into the living room and fed her.

  “There’s avocado in the vegetable drawer,” said Janie. Tug made a face. “What? It’s healthy!” she said.

  “Then you climb out of your little nest there and give it to her,” he said. “It’s too slimy for me.”

  “You’re telling me you handle rotten boards and insulation and that nasty smelly window caulk and you won’t touch avocado?”

  He shrugged. “Complex, I know, but you’ll get it all straight.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. Such a comfort to have him here.

  “Hey,” she said suddenly, “I know it’s silly, but you don’t think this is anything…like…serious, right? It’s just a bug?”

  He gave Carly a couple of crackers and came to sit beside Janie on the couch again. “There’s no way this is anything serious. In a couple of days you’ll be hopping around like a jackhammer.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s a million what-ifs in life. You just have to keep yourself from thinking about the bad ones.”

  He couldn’t stay long. After he left, Janie carried Carly up to her crib for a nap. She was completely exhausted ten minutes later when she made it back down to the couch. She fell into a dream-ridden sleep, rafting once again through black waters. This time she really did fall in, leaving the kids alone and adrift. The water wasn’t wet, though. It turned into soil around her, enveloping her, suffocating her like dirt thrown into a grave.

  HEIDI HAD PICKED UP Dylan from school and brought him to her house to play. At three o’clock Janie heard the boys clomping and giggling on the porch, and Heidi shushing them. The
front door opened slowly and Heidi peeked in.

  “It’s okay, I’m awake,” said Janie from the couch. “Carly’s still asleep, though.”

  Heidi sent the boys around to the backyard to play. “I would have kept him longer,” she said, bringing a grocery bag into the kitchen, “but I had told you three, and I didn’t want to call and disturb you to extend it.”

  “It’s fine,” said Janie. “Carly will be up any minute, anyway. And it’s good to see you.”

  Heidi sank into the leather chair and put her feet up on the ottoman. “I brought some dinner—homemade mac and cheese—and some salad.” She studied Janie’s pallid complexion. “But you don’t seem like you’ll be eating much of it.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Janie said. She reached for the washcloth and wiped her face.

  “Should I go?” Heidi sat up. “Do you need to rest?”

  “No, I just woke up. And I don’t really want to sleep, anyway. I’ve been having these bizarre nightmares about death. I keep worrying that this isn’t just the flu, it’s some fatal illness and the kids will be orphaned.”

  “Oh yeah. I used to do that. Right around when the doofus and I were separating. I couldn’t stand the thought of Keane being raised by him alone.”

  “When did it stop?”

  “I went to my doctor and had her do every test the insurance would pay for. I thought about getting one of those body scans, you know, the ones that are supposed to pick up every little thing you might have? But it was really expensive, and I realized that just because I don’t have anything now, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t five years from now.”

  “So once you had a clean bill of health from your doctor, you stopped worrying?”

  “Well, that and I called our marriage counselor and had a couple of sessions. He couldn’t save the marriage, but he helped me get control of my intrusive thoughts.” Heidi laughed. “You’re not going to believe this, but you know what it came down to? He basically just told me to cut it out!”

  Janie chuckled. “That’s pretty much Tug’s take on it, too.”

  “Tug?” said Heidi, her laughter pulling inward, like a humor vacuum. “The contractor?”

  “Yeah,” said Janie, feeling self-conscious. “We’ve become friends. He stops by for lunch sometimes.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Oh’? We’re not dating or anything. He just comes by. The kids and I used to go to his softball games sometimes until the season ended.”

  “I’m not implying that you are. I’m just…”

  “What?”

  “Jealous, I guess.”

  “Heidi, trust me. There’s nothing to be jealous of. We just hang out.”

  “That’s plenty to be jealous of! What do you think I’m looking for, a hot date every night of the week?”

  “No, I only meant—”

  “God!” Heidi shuddered in frustration. “I would kill to have a guy just to talk to!”

  Janie exhaled. “You’re right. It’s nice.”

  “And he’s okay with that? Just hanging out? Nothing more?”

  “Well, I think maybe he’d like something more, but he knows I’m not up for it.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “No! Robby hasn’t even been gone a year.”

  “So maybe after January?”

  “Heidi, stop! I can’t think about this!”

  “Oh, alright. Don’t freak out.”

  Listen to her, Janie thought, amused. Miss Insecure is telling me to be cool. Carly began to stir upstairs, and without asking or being asked, Heidi went up to get her. It was funny, really, how someone so unlike Janie had become so familiar.

  “I changed her diaper,” Heidi said when she returned with Carly in her arms. “P-U! What are you feeding this child?”

  Not avocados, thought Janie.

  20

  IT WAS 9:15 P.M. and Janie was in bed. The plan was to sleep, but she had napped too late in the day. Her flu seemed to be dissipating; she had been only intermittently feverish that day. She’d had enough energy to get up and feed the kids leftover macaroni and cheese for dinner.

  A thought came to her as she lay there unable to sleep. She would get up and e-mail Jake, see what he was up to. A moment later she was embarrassed. She had forgotten that she and Jake no longer spoke, had no relationship at all, not even priest and parishioner. Why should it embarrass her, this momentary forgetting of the status of things? It was just a tiny lapse, never spoken aloud, with no one to see the stinging blush that crept up her neck.

  How had she come to feel so strongly for a man—a celibate man, no less—that even after three months of radio silence, she could still idly consider contacting? Had her instincts become so tangled and short-circuited that she would subject herself to such a gaffe? Was the damage permanent? She had to be more careful, she told herself—of what, she hadn’t quite worked out.

  The phone rang and Janie reached for it quickly, grateful for a reason to change the channel in her brain. “Hello?”

  “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

  The muscles at the back of her neck, pulled taught by self-doubt, released. “Better. I think I turned a corner.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get over there today. The architect on this job is making me nuts. He changes the plans about every fifteen minutes.”

  “No kidding,” she laughed. “What’s that like?”

  “Ah, don’t start,” he chuckled. “You love that porch.”

  “True.”

  They talked about any number of things. There were five units of 40B affordable housing going in on Old Connecticut Path. The developer had just fired the builder and was calling for new bids. Tug was thinking about going for it. Did Janie have any further thoughts about picking up her old job at Newton-Wellesley Hospital? How would the kids take it? Tug reminded her that his nieces babysat all the time, and might be willing to commit to a weekly stint if she needed it. The call went on for a while as they rambled through the funny moments, minor concerns, and action items of each one’s day. Janie thought briefly of Heidi. A guy just to talk to, she had said.

  “So, where are you going for Thanksgiving?” Tug asked, the cadence of his words changing slightly. “Your aunt’s?”

  “Yeah. Cormac and Uncle Charlie will go over the day before and clear all the furniture out of her living room. She has one of those puzzle tables.”

  “The kind that fold up small but have a bunch of leaves?”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “I have one. It was my grandparents’. One of the things I kept.”

  “So where are you going?” she asked.

  “My brother’s probably.”

  “Keeping your options open? It’s only a week away.”

  “You might say.” He was quiet for a moment. She could hear the gentle swoosh of his breath on the mouthpiece. “I was kind of thinking about us spending Thanksgiving together,” he said finally.

  Of course, Janie thought instinctively. Makes total sense. But then she started second-guessing herself. What would he think? What would it mean? What would he think it means? The blush rose up again, and she said merely, “Oh.”

  “Okay, it was just a thought.” A thin line of disappointment underscored the apparent dispassion of his words.

  “Well…” Now she was second-guessing her second-guessing. And wanting to be with him. “I mean…where?”

  “Anywhere. Your aunt’s, my brother’s, your house, my house.”

  “You know how to cook a turkey?” she stalled.

  “No, but it can’t be that hard.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s just a turkey and an oven. I have one, I can get the other.”

  “No, I mean why do you want to do Thanksgiving together?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment, and she was certain that he was working out how to say it, more than why he wanted it.

  “I’m thankful for you,” he said quietly. “I want to be thankful with you
.”

  Of course, she thought. Me, too.

  THE ELDERLY FATHER GILROY, Pastor of Immaculate Conception Church in Natick, stood hunched and gently quaking at the lectern. Over the past three months, Janie had grown used to his throat clearing and his lackluster homilies. She usually spent a good deal of Mass keeping the kids from annoying the other, mostly older, parishioners, so it wasn’t like she listened all that much. She often read to Dylan in a barely audible whisper from the children’s Bible Father Jake had given him, full of simplified, white-washed stories and cartoon pictures. Dylan was transfixed. Carly liked to balance like a gymnast along the kneeler, her tiny hands gripping the pew in front of them. Back and forth she would dance. Aunt Jude would retrieve her if she got farther than an arm’s length away.

  “Don’t read,” Dylan whispered to Janie on this particular Sunday. “I already know it. I just want to look at the pictures.” He was studying the too-brightly-colored depiction of David slaying Goliath with his little slingshot. Janie knew that Dylan was making the story much more dramatic and dangerous in his head than the words on the page did. It gave her a moment to tune in to whatever Father Gilroy was prattling on about. Turns out it was the Gospel of Luke:

  And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him.’ And he says in reply from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything.’ I tell you, if he does not get up to give the visitor the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence.