But, despite my planning, I got there at ten-thirty and saw his car already in the parking lot; he was standing out front looking exactly the same as I imagined. He, too, wore faded jeans, and a navy t-shirt, with an Army logo on it. He smiled when he saw my car pull in the lot, began to approach, and no sooner had I stepped out of the car or even knew what was happening, he wrapped me in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you, Monica. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“You too,” I uttered into his shirt. He smelled so good, and I couldn’t help but inhale.
Then while still holding me, “You’re skin and bones, what the hell,” he said in shock as he let me go, bent slightly at the waist, and reached out to put his hands around my waist as if to measure me. I pulled back quickly stepping into my still open car door.
He straightened, and shook his head in apology, “Sorry, I . . . uh . . . shouldn’t have done that, umm, let’s go inside.” He indicated the front of the store. I moved out of the way of my door, shut it and began to walk. He walked beside me to the entrance and held the door open for me.
“You look good, though,” I murmured rather lamely.
Once inside, the bright sunshine from outside left us a little blinded with the muted lighting and décor of the bookstore. He peered around and indicated the coffee shop in the back.
“Oh, there it is,” he said as he pointed to the small tables and chairs set up in the rear of the store for customers to peruse titles before making a purchase. Butterflies flapped in my stomach. His touch earlier had made me feel faint, and the scent from his skin brought so many memories rushing back.
I needed a moment to regain my equilibrium. And to catch my breath, clear my head. “You go,” I said and he gave me a puzzled look. “Order me a coffee. You know how I like it, right? I want to get those manuals so I don’t forget, okay?”
“Yes, I remember how you like it,” he muttered. “Go on. Get your books.” He had sounded so disappointed like he knew I was evading him for a few more moments.
I took as much time as I dared. I bought twelve study guides, one for each student. These would make a great barrier on the table. No accidental hand touches, no reaching across the table. I paid for the books, brought the bag with me and headed to the coffee shop; I spotted him right away as he waved me over. When he saw my load, he quickly got up, and pulled over an extra chair, so I could put my purchases on it. So much for protection, I thought grimly. He took the bag out of my hand, oops accidental touch, and electricity to boot. The butterflies were back. I let go quickly, trying to not let on to what I felt.
“Huff, that was heavy. Thank you,” I slunk into my chair trying to act nonchalant.
“I can take them to the car for you,” he made to get up just as he was sitting down.
“No, no that is not necessary,” I ushered him back into his chair. He sat back down slowly. I was a bit relieved to see he looked just as nervous as I was.
He repositioned his chair moving it a bit closer so that we weren’t sitting directly across from each other at the small café table. “Okay, but I will take them out for you when you are ready to leave. Is that all right?” he asked.
“Sure, that would be nice.” It was easier to agree to let him take the books out for me then the thought of him watching me lug them out, walking like I was drunk or lopsided because of the weight of the books. Or worse yet, have my pants fall down around my ankles because they were incredibly loose, with him watching.
He smiled then giving me a sympathetic look. “So, I got you your coffee. Two Splendas, and low-fat milk,” he paused and then added, “I, er . . . I also got you a muffin. Hope you don’t mind.” His look was one of concern.
“Well, I did eat, but I can pick at it. Thank you.” I didn’t want to insult him. He was obviously concerned about the weight loss and like my sister wanted to force me to eat more.
“Okay, and you’re welcome.” There was a long awkwardness between us. It had been four months since we had seen each other, well maybe a little less for him, and we just didn’t know what to say to one another now that we were here. We both just looked at each other, and smiled. Victor eventually broke the silence after clearing his throat, “So I am glad you came.” Pause. “This is so awkward, isn’t it,” he laughed. “Let’s just call the elephant in the room what it is.”
I laughed, too. A real laugh. It broke the proverbial ice, so to speak.
An hour later, I had eaten the entire muffin, had finished my coffee, and he was getting me another one. He talked for a while first. Telling me stories about work, the new recruits and the stupid things they did. He talked about his daughter telling me about her cheerleading camp, and the music she listened to in the car that drove him nuts. He didn’t know their names, couldn’t understand the lyrics. His pride and love for his daughter was evident in every word he spoke. I listened avidly wanting to know what his daughter was like. She was a part of him after all. He had never been so open with me before.
When it was my turn, I told him about work, of course. And, my AP class that I absolutely loved. I talked about my sister and Teddy. She had brought him by for a quick visit one week ago, and then brought him to meet my mom. I had nearly died laughing I told him when she left my house, Teddy in toe, mumbling, okay let’s go bring you to meet my mother, the dragon lady, and get this over with. My mom was the sweetest, funniest woman you would ever want to meet. She had obviously given Teddy a lot of drivel to scare the poor guy because he turned before he left and the look on his face was frightful. Victor laughed with me and at my description.
“Your mom sounds cool, Monica. Easy going,” he sighed.
“She is. You would have liked her,” I stated and then realized how stupid I was to have said that. He might have taken it as a jab. I saw the look on his face and knew he had taken it wrong. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “That was stupid, just something to say.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “My mom is great, too. Old-fashioned, very religious, but she loves her family and puts them first. Always.” Then that is when he offered to get us refills and got up before I could say anything.
When he came back to the table with two fresh coffees, he said, “That story about your sister reminds me of something I wanted to tell you!”
“What,” I asked. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively, and it sent a shot of nerves straight through me that made me sit up straight in my chair. It reminded me of all those times he had done that with me.
“Kat . . . and . . . ,” he paused dramatically, “Joe,” he nodded seriously.
“Noooo …. No way,” I said picking up my coffee cup taking a sip.
His look of shock must have mirrored my own. “Yeah, I woke up one night. I heard strange noises in the kitchen. I thought someone had broken in. So I grabbed a bat out of my closet, and ran out of the room charging. Kat was on the counter, and Joe was standing in front of her with his pants around his ankles.”
“Oh my God, you didn’t. She didn’t. He’s like old.” I burst into laughter covering my mouth with my hand.
“Well, only by fifteen years,” he laughed with me. “But the counter, Monica, I make my food there.” He looked absolutely stricken.
We both laughed long and hard over that one. The conversation fizzled after that. We just looked at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, but neither of us wanting to leave either. I saw it in his eyes, and it stung. He still loved me. I knew I still loved him. Nothing had changed. I looked down at my watch. It was time to make my exit. “Well, I should get going. I want to get these books home and review them, make up some assignments this weekend for the kids.” I made to get up, and reluctantly he followed, hefting up the bag of manuals as I led the way to the entrance to open the door.
I popped the trunk and he set the books inside reaching up and closing the door. I turned and started towards my door, and he followed me. I spun around to offer him my hand to shake and wish him farewell. He ignored it and crushed m
e to him. I hugged him back, but not nearly as tightly. “I like your hair like that, Monica. I wanted to tell you that. Very natural.”
“Thank you,” I muttered into his chest breathing him in one last time.
“Can I call you sometimes? Just to talk like friends. When you’re home?” he asked. Why? I wondered. What was the point? But I didn’t have the heart to say it.
“Sure. Sure.” I patted his back. He let go, and took a step back so I could open the door of my SUV. He stood two feet from my car not moving out of the way, watching me back out and turn, and straighten the vehicle. He waved as I turned left on Del Mabry to head home.
On Sunday, my sister stopped by for brunch, sans Teddy, and I told her about going to see Victor.
“Well, sweetie. I love you. I do. You gave it a shot, but it seems like nothing has changed for him. He would have said something if things were different. I don’t think it is a good idea to keep talking to him. You need to cut the ties and move on.” When I didn’t answer and just sat there mute and in pain, she blew, “Come on, Monica, you’re fucking delusional, the both of you, if you think you can just be friends. You can’t put fire and ice together, baby sis! One of you is going to melt! And the other one is gonna burn!”
That was true. It had been that way from the start.
I knew my sister was right. But, I wanted him in my life even if it would be just on the phone, and just as friends who talked occasionally. I was all kinds of a fool. I had myself convinced it would be nice. He would heal, we would move on. The pain would be gone. It would be like it was with my friend, Tammy, from college. We didn’t talk much but we knew we would always be there for each other, to listen to, and share our joys and sorrows with. Hopefully, we could learn how to cheer each other on, as well. Tammy and I lived far apart though my subconscious told me, and she was female. But Victor and I, we didn’t live far, and well he wasn’t a girl, either. I told myself calls would be okay though, because we would keep our distance, call for birthdays, holidays, and only rarely would we ever see each other. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?
He called Sunday at about eight o’clock. We talked for ten minutes, just talking about our day.
I called Monday at ten. I wanted to see if he had caught the show on the History Channel about returning Vietnam soldiers who had been reported Missing in Action.
He called Tuesday. He had actually watched American Idol with his daughter, and thought the show was funny, with the competing judges let alone contestants.
I had deliberately not called Wednesday because I did not want to start a pattern. These calls were supposed to be few and far between. Old habits die hard, I guess. But I was determined to try harder to resist being lured back in. I forced myself to pull out some books from work, and do some planning for my new AP class. It was late when he called on Wednesday. He sounded out of sorts. “Hi, Monica,” he said. “I just wanted to hear about your day. Everyone went out tonight, but I didn’t feel much like it. Nothing’s on television and I got bored.”
“Yes, I know. Me too. I was bored. Then I got to working on some lesson plans and time got away from me, but geesh, it’s late, I better head to bed soon,” It was nearly midnight, I noticed when I looked at the clock. “I . . . wanted to tell you something the other day, but I forgot. Joe’s retiring,” he informed me.
“Really,” I muttered. “I never would have thought.”
“Yeah, me too.” He wants to spend more time with his grand kids. He’s got two in North Carolina, and another one in Jacksonville.”
“He’s not moving, is he?” I asked. I knew a lot of the younger people in the complex really respected, and looked up to Joe. He was a role model for many, and a good friend.
“Na . . . him and Kat,” he laughed. “But he plans on travelling more.”
“Right,” I laughed. “Well, if they are happy with each other, God bless them, I say.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “They are happy . . .” His words trailed off. Victor didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t know what to say after that. “Well, I have to get some laundry done tonight, so I’ll call you . . . some other time,” he ended lamely.
“Okay, bye Victor. It was nice hearing from you.”
On Thursday, I called at seven. Early, in case he decided to go out, and I was worried about him.
“Hi there, Monica,” he answered. “I’m glad you called.”
“Hi, Victor. How are . . .” my words were caught off by what I heard next.
“Who is Monica, daddy?” I heard a little girl say. I held my breath panic striking into the very heart of me.
“It’s one of daddy’s friends, Stacey. One of my very best friends,” he told her. “Go on in and I’ll catch up, okay?” A lump began to form in my throat.
“Sure, Daddy. I’ll go make popcorn with Kat. Hurry up.” I heard her voice trail off.
“Listen, if you’re busy, I can always call back,” I offered.
“No, I have a second. My wife, er, she had a work thing come up, so I got to see Stacey. Normally, I get her every Tuesday, and every other weekend. But once in a while I get her more often. We just came back from dinner, and now we were going to watch a movie,” he explained.
“That’s nice. Well, then you should go,” I stated sincerely. “Don’t keep your daughter waiting.”
“Okay, but I’ll call you after I drop her off at home. It might be a little late though.”
“Sure, okay,” I mumbled. “Bye.”
I was his friend. One of his best. It hurt to hear him say that, but it didn’t either.
It was twelve-thirty when he called. I was tired, watching Lettermen, but still up waiting.
“Hi, Victor,” I said a little sleepily.
“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked worriedly.
“No, I was watching television, just getting tired,” I answered honestly.
“Sorry about that, but I had to drive Stacey home. Her mom lives in Dunedin now, and she wanted to talk a bit, sorry,” he offered lamely. She had moved; he stayed to talk. I tried to keep thoughts of them together out of my mind, but she was his wife.
“Dunedin?” I asked.
“Yeah, she um, bought a house there, and it’s a bit of a drive,” he did not sound happy about it. He was Stacey’s father and I am sure wanted to be as close to her as possible. I didn’t blame him for that.
“Oh, that’s okay.” I said yawning.
“You’re tired, go to sleep. I’ll call tomorrow,” he said and I could here in his voice he didn’t want the call to end.
“Thanks for telling Stacey that I was one of your best friends, Victor. That meant a lot to me,” I blurted out trying to keep the call going on for a while longer.
“I meant it, too,” he said with sincerity. “You are the only person that really knows me and accepts me, quirks and all.” I hurt for him, those scars he had ran deep.
I tried to tease him to ease his hurt. “Yeah, we are a pair of quirky birds, you and I,” I laughed knowingly. ‘Two of a kind.”
He laughed. “It’s hard, Monica, this friendship thing, though,” he said honestly. I could hear the regret in his voice, but he rushed to continue, “But I don’t want to lose it. I missed you so much, and worry about you. I need your friendship.”
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “I know, me too, Vic, I feel the same way.” There was a silence. “I gained two pounds, though,” I tried to laugh to get us away from dangerous and painful territory.
“Ooo, two pounds,” he teased. “Good job, Monica.”
“Hey, I am trying.” I whined. And I was, trying to eat more often and regularly.
“I’m glad.” His sigh was audible before he spoke next. “Monica, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I want to be honest with you from now on, Okay?”
“Okay,” I stammered.
“My wife and I have been going to counseling. The army really encourages us to take counseling, marriage counseling before t
aking any final measures. It is an eight week program. It’s been a month now. I just wanted you to know,” he said quickly.
The lump was back. “Oh, okay. I hope it is helping.”
“In a way,” he stalled. ‘It’s been, revealing. At least, I know my wife doesn’t see me as a monster anymore. We have another month of counseling.”
“Yeah, well. Good luck,” I managed to get out convincingly.
“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t think it is going to work for Julianna.” He paused searching for words. “She told me tonight she still wants a divorce. She loves me, but just not like a married couple should love one another.”
“Really?” I asked. I didn’t know why he was telling me this. Or, if I wanted to know. I guess he wanted there to be no more secrets, if we were going to be friends.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I am telling you this.” His voice echoed my thoughts. “As friends though, that is something I would tell you. I . . . just . . . don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives. You’re friendship means too much.”
“It’s okay. Victor. I think I understand,” I expressed to him sympathetically. I heard the pain and frustration there. Confusion.
“Yeah, well, I think I am coming to accept it. Stacey even knows that we are probably going to divorce. The counselor wanted us to talk with her about it so that it didn’t come as a shock to her.”
“That’s a good idea,” I told him. It would make any transition easier whatever it may be.
“Yeah, but the kid tells us. ‘Please, tell me something I don’t already know. I love both of you and you both love me, so no biggie. We haven’t lived together in a year.’ she said.” He stated with wonder.
Fire In His Eyes Page 16
