If I Lose Her

by Greg Joseph Daily

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said taking another swallow of my golden liquid.

  “And you remember Margaret Alpert.”

  The same gentleman I had seen accompanying her months ago was standing next to her now.

  “I do. How are you this evening?”

  “I am fine. We hear you are doing some work for the Daily Camera.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I’ve been there for…about a week now.”

  “I have been a regular subscriber for some years now. I have a home just north of Pearl Street.”

  “It’s a beautiful town. I really enjoy being there.”

  She nodded.

  “Jo, you will have to excuse us. I need to say hello to a few more of this evening’s artists,” Marta Stephens said.

  “I understand. Then she turned to me with large eyes and pressed her face into my neck. What are we doing here?” she whispered.

  “I think we’re at the opening night of your gallery showing, rubbing elbows with some pretty rich people who seem to like your work,” I replied with a grin and dropping back my last swallow.

  “You know who I met tonight?” she asked, still whispering into the corner of my neck.

  “Who?”

  “Jack. Nicholson!”

  “Really?” I asked looking around to see if he might still be lurking somewhere.

  “He just came up to me and said, ‘Hi I’m Jack, I just wanted to say that I like your work.’ Then he walked off. All I said was thanks. I mean, what do you say when Jack Nicholson walks up to you out of the blue and says he likes your work? I’m such an idiot.”

  She laughed and shook her head. I laughed with her.

  “Did he look like he does on TV?”

  “Pretty much. The woman who was with him was gorgeous.”

  “Really?” I looked around again, in an over-exaggerated manner.

  Jo slapped my shoulder.

  “Some guy named Mark Peters also came up and talked to me and said he might be interested in helping me put a book together.”

  “Wow, sounds like it’s been a big night.”

  “I’m glad you’re finally here. I just don’t feel like myself around these people.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it. It sounds like you’re doing great to me.”

  “Have you seen my parents?”

  “No. I’m lucky I found you. This place is huge.”

  “Whew,” Jo said putting her hand on her stomach.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just going to go use the little girl’s room. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

  I looked around, but I just didn’t understand most of what was on display.

  One sculpture was of a kitchen table set with plates, a milk carton, cups, utensils and butter dish all completely wrapped in one-dollar-bills. This was too interesting to pass up, so I put my camera to my eye and shot this from several different angles. Then there was a larger than life size painting of half-a-dozen Nazi soldiers standing around looking at a woman holding a baby with a little Hitler mustache. This one was drawing a crowd.

  I looked at a few more pieces then came back, but there was no Jo. So, I started wandering around one of the permanent exhibits. There were some western paintings, a sculpture of businessmen standing around in carnival masks and a wire frame in the shape of a horse. Then I found a vintage print of Ansel Adams’ ‘Half Dome, Merced River’ in a corner of the main hall of western art. This I could understand.

  The white snow of this beautiful mountain and the serenity of the mirror lake in the foreground made the rest of the craziness of tonight seem foolish. Here I was sipping Champagne in a building that someone spent tens of millions of dollar to build while somewhere out there was a quiet lake, naturally formed, that was so beautiful it utterly shamed this place.

  I looked up and there was still no Jo. I looked at my watch. It had to have been more than twenty minutes since she had gone to use the restroom.

  I started looking for her parents.

  I finally found them and asked if they had seen her. They hadn’t. I walked around a little longer, but when I still couldn’t find her I asked her mother to go in and see if she could check on her. Her dad looked worried. This made me worried.

  A few minutes more and she and her mother emerged. Jo was pale and disheveled.

  “Baby, are you okay?” I asked taking her arm.

  She smiled. “Yeah, I think the Champagne got to me that’s all.”

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “I’m going to head home with my parents, but I’ll call you tomorrow okay?”

  “Okay,” and I gave her a gentle hug. Then she took her father’s arm and they left.

  I looked at my Champagne glass, now empty, set it on a railing and made my way home.

  The next morning I sent her a text message asking how she was. She said she was feeling much better and planned on spending the day with her parents. I told her that we should try a new sandwich shop that just opened across the street from her campus, and she said that that sounded like a good idea.

  A few months passed and things were busy. Busy at school, busy at the newspaper. So busy that I only saw Jo a couple of evenings a week. I was missing the days when we were at school together and we could sneak off campus for lunch and wander around Golden.

  Things between my mother and I were not what they had been, but they were better than they could be. I didn’t go to the house, which meant I pretty much never saw Peter. If I needed to talk to her, I would just call or stop by her store.

  I decided that it was time to let her know that there was a very good chance that in a few months she would have a new daughter-in-law, so on a surprisingly warm Tuesday afternoon in April I walked into her store with some warm drinks from her favorite little café on the corner.

  “Hello!” She said laughing as I walked through the front door. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too mamma. I brought you a mocha.”

  “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I’m due at the Camera in a couple of hours and thought maybe we could chat for a little bit. Is it a bad time?”

  “NO! no, it’s never a bad time for you. Let me just let Jenny know that I’m going to take my break. Have you met Jenny? She’s my new assistant.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Jenny, this is my son Alex. Alex this is jenny. She’s been helping me re-do my tax system on the computer. The IRS seems to find a way to make things more and more difficult every year.”

  “Hello,” Jenny said shaking my hand.

  “Jenny, I’m going to take a break for a little bit and sit and talk to Alex in the back room. If you need anything just holler.”

  “No problem,” Jenny said, lying open a magazine on the counter.

  “So how are things at school?”

  “They’re good mamma. A war photographer came and gave a presentation last month for those of us in the Journalism department. His work was really amazing. Afterward I started asking him a few questions, he said he had some time and we ended up having a coffee and talking for over an hour. He had some amazing stories.”

  “You’re not thinking about becoming a war photographer are you?”

  “No. I mean not right NOW. It’s just interesting to see what other shooters are doing. Some of these guys aren’t necessarily right on the battlefield anyways. He said that two-thirds of the work he does is in places after some catastrophe has struck. But no, I’m happy at the Camera. It would be nice to finally get to put a stamp in my passport though.”

  “Well how are things between you and Jo?”

  “Actually, that’s what I came by to talk to you about. We’ve been growing a lot closer over the past several months, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  “Really?” She started laughing and we hugged each other.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh honey. Congratulation
s.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No, at least I don’t think so, you’re the only person I’ve talked to about it. I want to surprise her.”

  Then my mother’s eyes grew large. “Have you picked out a ring yet?”

  “No,” I said looking down at the floor. “I had started saving a little, but when I got laid off at the studio I had to spend that money on rent and food.”

  “Hang on a second.”

  “Okay?”

  Then she left the room. When she came back she was holding a small box.

  “I got this in on consignment last week, and do you know who I thought of when I saw it?”

  “Who?”

  “Jo.”

  I opened the box. In it was a white gold band that split and wrapped around a beautiful round diamond. The band was inlaid with more tiny diamonds where it held the center stone.

  “Wow.”

  “That stone is nearly flawless,” she said.

  I held it up to the light. Countless tiny prisms of color fought to escape their clear prison.

  “How much is it?”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  I put it back in the box and clicked shut the lid. “No way. How much is it?”

  She shook her head. “Alex, it’s a three-thousand dollar ring.”

  THREE. THOUSAND. DOLLARS?

  “But, the woman is getting re-married and just wants to get rid of it. I was just about to mark it at sixteen hundred, but the store gets a fifty-percent cut. She only wants eight hundred for it.”

  “Are you serious? Eight hundred? I have three at home right now.”

  She laughed and nodded.

  “Just take it with you.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes you can. Alex, the store will cut her a check for her half and you can pay me back.”

  “But what about your eight hundred?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you actually think that I’m out to make a profit off of my own son? Call it a wedding gift.”

  “Oh mamma. This is amazing. Are you kidding? I thought for sure I’d have to wait at least another six months before I’d be able to afford anything decent. And this is SO much more than decent.”

  I opened the box and looked at the ring again. Then I hugged her and kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “I’m glad I could do it for you.”

  “Could I leave it here, just for a day or two. I don’t want to take it to the paper with me and something happen to it.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll put it in the vault.”

  Then I handed it to her.

  I was hesitant to ask, but I did often think about it.

  “How are things between you and Peter?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “It takes a while getting used to living with someone else.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Then she realized something and looked at me. “Peter is in Texas for the week, overseeing some construction project. Do you want to come by the house for dinner?”

  “I’d love to. Can I bring something?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Hah, okay. What time?”

  “How’s seven?”

  “Sounds great. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “You should bring Jo with you.”

  “Is that okay?”

  “Are you kidding? She’s going to be my new daughter-in-law. Of course it’s okay.”

  I kissed her again and left the store.

  As I drove past the Flatirons I thought about the ring.

  I could ask Jo to marry me tonight!

  I hit my steering wheel in excitement.

  But wait, I want it to be perfect. Should I ask her at my apartment? Candles? What kind of music does someone play when they’re asking someone to be your wife? Do I need to talk to her dad first? No, that’s too old fashioned. We can talk to them about it together. Jo Douglas. Jolene Douglas. Mrs. Alex Douglas. Alex and Jolene Douglas. I’m getting married!

  Twenty-Eight

  It was nearly seven in the evening. Jo and I were on our way to my mother’s for dinner. I was thinking about how my life made so much more sense when we were together. Her pinky had found its way over and wrapped itself around mine while I shifted gears. Then I looked over and saw her smiling at me.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” She asked me.

  How I’m going to ask you to marry me.

  “How great it is when we are together, and how hungry I am. You?”

  “Just how handsome you are.”

  I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

  She giggled and touched the side of my head.

  “If you had one wish, what would it be?” I asked her.

  She thought for a minute. “I’d wish that I could stay with you forever.”

  “Forever’s a long time. You sure you could put up with me for that long?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  God, I want to marry you.

  I squeezed her hand and tried with all my strength not to let on what I was thinking.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  She turned and looked out the window.

  We pulled up to my mother’s house, knocked on the door and she welcomed us in. I looked around and strangely didn’t notice many of the obvious signs of Peter’s presence. It was almost like the last year-and-a-half had never happened. She kissed our cheeks, we took off our shoes and she led us into the kitchen where spicy steak bubbled in a pan. Chopped vegetables of every color of the rainbow were lying on the counter next to her. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Avocados. Red and yellow peppers. Pinto beans. Ding! She opened the microwave door and took out a warming dish of tortillas.

  “We’re having fajita’s. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It smells wonderful,” Jo replied.

  “I picked up something fun at the grocer when I was there this afternoon.” Then she reached into the refrigerator and revealed three glass bottles of Tamarind soda. “They’re Mexican sodas. They were on sale and I figured, let’s give ‘em a try.”

  I twisted the metal cap off of one and took a drink. It tasted sweet but different than anything I had tasted before, like a kind of savory fruit almost. “It’s good,” I told her reading the label on the glass bottle.

  “Yeah? Good.” Then she wrapped a tea towel around her hand and reached into the oven. “The restaurant over on 32nd does a delicious queso that I had to try.” She set a hot plate down covered in melted cheese and red sauce. “I got these to eat with it,” she said setting down a basket of tortilla chips.

  “You’ve went all out,” I told her ready to inhale everything; it all smelled so good. I leaned over the queso and took in its aroma. The smell of chili tickled my nose.

  “Well, I thought we don’t get to do this that much anymore, thanks to my husband.” Then she turned and stirred the steak. “Dig in, please,” she said scooping some of the queso left in the pan onto a chip and tossing it into her mouth.

  The spices hit the back of my throat causing my eyes to water.

  “Wow, that’s got some kick to it,” I said taking a drink from my soda.

  “Is it too much? Maybe I should have used less chili pepper.”

  “I like it,” Jo said scooping another pile of cheese into her mouth.

  “There it is, a woman after my own heart,” my mother said smiling. “Alex, never could handle anything hotter than ketchup.”

  “Hey now, I can hold my own.” I dug a tortilla chip further into the cheese and took a bite. Then I started coughing, “okay maybe not.”

  She set a plate of the vegetables and the hot pan of sizzling steak onto the table. The tortillas were warm and almost burned your fingers if you held them for too long, but we were all hungry so we took fist-fulls of food and began eating.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said as she rose from h
er chair. She came back with a bowl of refried beans with a sprinkling of cheese on top. A streak of sauce ran down my chin as I bit into my fajita, which I wiped away with my napkin.

  “I know how you feel about Peter,” my mother said as I kissed her goodnight. “But, I wish you’d come by ONCE in a while, even if it was just for dinner.”

  I nodded.

  I drove Jo back to her parents and parked on the side street, under a tree where I knew we were just out of sight.

  “I was wondering if you might want to go to a show with me downtown,” I said taking Jo’s hand in mine. “ ‘Les Miserables’ is playing downtown at the Buell, and I thought we could make a night of it. Maybe dinner at the Brown Palace first then the show?”

  “Ah, that sounds great. I’ve been wanting to see ‘Les Miserables’,” she said. Then we said goodnight and I let her out. On the way home my cell phone rang. It was mom.

  “Hey!”

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I just got off the phone with Lauren.” She started sobbing. “Your grandmother’s dead.”

  “Oh momma, are you okay?”

  “I guess she was at Lauren’s for the evening. Your aunti said she fell asleep in the living room, and when they went to wake her to take her home, she was gone. She was just gone. Lauren said they had just finished dinner not more than twenty minutes earlier.”

  Now the sobs are coming in rolling waves.

  “Okay, I’m turning around. I’ll be to you in ten minutes.” Then I hung up the phone.

  On my way I called Jo and told her what was happening.

  “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m okay. I’m just heading back over to mom’s now, to be with her. I’ll call you in the morning and give you an update.”

  “Okay.”

  I was on the phone most of the next few hours, talking with my aunt and letting a couple of cousins know what was going on who were on the West coast where it wasn’t too late yet.

  “I’m going to have to go out to Minnesota to sort everything out,” my mother said sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, half lost in a daze.

  “Can aunti handle it?”

  “She’s never been any good at this sort of thing. I can talk to Jenny and have her work a couple of doubles at the store. We’ll close early if we have to.”