“I already did months ago,” he reminded her. “I like it here fine.”
Reaching her father’s neighborhood, she turned the corner, and on the porch of his home, standing nearly at attention was Harry Kovac. “Oh, my God, there’s dad, looking like he’s waiting for the firing squad.”
“Did you tell him I’m ex-Army?”
“I did. Sorry. I knew he’d love it because he’s a veteran. He’ll talk your ear off.”
“As long as he does all the talking, I’m good,” Alex said. “I hate talking about Iraq.”
“Okay. I’m learning an awful lot today.”
“I talk too much,” Alex said.
“You don’t,” Terry answered. “Don’t stop talking.”
She pulled into the driveway, behind her father’s car, waving at him.
“Hello,” Alex called out, stepping out of the car.
The introduction went well, Harry’s initial evaluation of Alex a good one.
“Let’s go inside,” Harry said. “The neighbors are probably recording this.”
“A new face around Levitt Street is an exciting event,” Terry said. “The phone lines are hot this afternoon!”
“Come in, come in,” Harry said, leading the way to the kitchen. “I ran up to Eagles Bakery, and got whipped cream pastries.”
“My favorite. We just ate, but too bad,” she said, laughing.
“Where’d you go?” Harry asked.
“Right on Germantown Avenue. That waffle place,” she said.
“That’s good,” he said, nodding his head. “But this is better.”
He untied the string around a white pastry box and opened the lid. Alex and Terry peeked inside. “I’m definitely going to the gym this week,” Alex said.
“I have fresh coffee, too,” Harry said. “Sit down, sit down.”
The next minutes were spent with Terry getting old-fashioned china cups and saucers and dessert plates out of the china closet, and Harry pouring coffee. “This will put hair on our chests,” she said, taking a sip. “My dad doesn’t play around.”
Moans of culinary appreciation filled the kitchen as they ate, the sounds of cutlery on china ringing out. “This is amazing,” Terry said. “Their pastry is so tender. I could eat two of them, but I won’t.”
“You only live once,” Harry said. “Your mother denied herself dessert for most of her life and she died anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Terry said, saddened. “Sixty-five is young to die these days.”
“It’s very young,” Alex said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, well don’t let it ruin your appetite. I have kielbasa, too.”
“Dad, no!” Terry cried, fresh kielbasa her favorite. “I’ll take it home. I can’t eat another bite.”
The next half hour was spent with Harry Kovac asking questions about Alex, using restraint for a change so that Terry could honestly say she wasn’t embarrassed by him one time that afternoon. Helping him clean up their snack mess, she then set about packaging up the kielbasa and rye bread; they’d have it later.
“Dad, you should know this. Alex is staying by me,” she said when Alex excused himself to use the bathroom.
“He is?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “But don’t you get married then?”
“We want to be together, but we don’t know each other well enough yet,” she explained.
“Well, you know what I want to say to that, but I won’t. You’re a big girl, you’re smart, too. Alex seems smart. I will try to trust you.”
Kissing his cheek, Terry smiled. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”
Gathering up their packages, it was time to go. “We’d better get out of the hood before the sun goes down,” she said, teasing.
“What hood? You live in the hood, not me. Oh, before I forget, take this to Earle.” He held up a canvas bag of tubes of paint. “I found this at a garage sale yesterday. I threw away the dried out tubes. There are brushes in there, too.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.
They stashed their goodies away in the trunk and got in the car, waving as Terry put it in reverse and rolled down the driveway.
“That was nice,” Alex said. “He’s a genuine guy.”
“That’s a good word for him. He’s that alright.”
Driving back to Mount Airy as the sun set, everything that had happened that weekend was coming to a finish; they’d moved in together and now they were going to have to face the music at work.
“What if we don’t tell anyone we’re together at the office?” she asked.
“You mean pretend I’m not crazy about you?” Alex said, grimacing. “No way.
“Yes, I guess it’s not realistic,” she admitted. “Oh, I’m getting nervous!”
“That’s okay. Look, we have a lot to do tonight. Our furniture is coming, I have to do my nightly routine, and that will either give you a good laugh or ammunition to throw me out.”
“Oh no, what do you do?” she asked, laughing.
“Well, I have to pluck my eyebrows so they don’t become unis. That’s a must every Sunday night. Then I clip my nails. You might ask me to leave when this procedure takes place. It’s not pretty. Then, I have to lay my clothes out. If I don’t do it the night before, I’ll take forever getting the tie right. The shoes need to be polished.”
“Even if there’s snow?” she asked, laughing.
“Oh yes, because I wear galoshes if there’s snow or rain.”
“The things called rubbers?” she asked, laughing hysterically. “My dad used to wear those! Do they even make them anymore or did you have to find them on eBay?”
“Of course, they make them. All the better dressed men wear them,” he said, his poker face in place.
“I have to take a lint roller to my overcoat, make sure my socks match, there’s an entire list I have to go through to make sure I’m put together.”
“Wow, I had no idea,” Terry said, smiling.
“Don’t you lay out everything the night before?” he asked as they pulled into her driveway.
“Not really. My closet is organized so I wear something different everyday. I have enough for ten days. I can wear a suit more than once before it goes to the cleaners. Each week I take four suits and five shirts to be cleaned. That way, I rotate everything. It’s very methodical.”
“If people only knew how much effort it took for us to look as good as we do for court,” he replied, holding out his hand.
They high-fived, still laughing. Throwing him the key, he unlocked the trunk and they emptied out all the goodies from her father just as the furniture truck pulled up.
Benny came home just then, and between the four of them, everything came up the stairs with no mishaps.
“I have fresh kielbasa from Tacony if you’d like to have a bite to eat,” Terry said, and Earle and Benny readily agreed, as did the furniture guy.
At seven, everyone left with thanks and promises to get together again soon, probably the next week at Mrs. Dell’s graduation party.
“Now I feel like unpacking my boxes,” Alex said.
“We can absolutely start unpacking,” Terry replied. “What else would we do? It’ll be fun to see your things.”
They never got beyond the first box because Alex pulled out an album of baby pictures his mother had made him take.
“They were downsizing,” he said. “Moving to an over fifty five place, so they gave me and my siblings all our baby books and photo albums. I almost threw them away when Jennifer, that’s my ex, said she wanted a divorce. Then I thought that someday I might have kids who would want to know about my life. So I kept the albums.”
“You’ve never mentioned your ex’s name before,” Terry said. “Was it difficult when she told you she didn’t want to be married?”
“Not at all. I kind of expected it. We emailed while I was deployed and I could tell there was a change about three months before I got home.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. So it wasn’t that long ago
,” Terry said, her first inkling of fear that he might be on the rebound occurring to her.
“No, it really wasn’t,” he answered. “I’ve been home for almost five months, so figure it out. It’s been less than a year.”
Reaching for his hand, Terry could see he was upset. How long did it take for a man to get over losing his wife?
“Sit in your chair,” she said, leading him to his new/old wing chair.
She sat by his knees on the ottoman, still holding his hand. “You were married two years?”
“Yep, only two,” he said. “We got married and a year after I was deployed.”
“Wow, a lot of pain in a short amount of time,” Terry said, sympathetic, frightened, wondering what this was going to mean for her relationship with him.
“What was it like over there?” she asked, her hand on his knee.
He ignored Terry’s question, reaching for her, pulling her up on his lap, and began to kiss her, but there was something urgent about it, desperate almost, that scared her even more. Carrying her into the bedroom, he didn’t stop kissing her as he placed her on the bed, pulling her shirt up, kissing her breasts, as though his mouth had to keep contact with her skin. She let him do it, understanding that something was happening that he couldn’t put into words, something that her question about what it was like for him in Iraq set into motion.
They made love again; this time it was making love. He murmured things to her, how much he loved her body, probing every part of it with his hands and fingers, and then his tongue, and when she cried out for him, he pulled her over on top of him, and her body swallowed his, all warmth and liquid velvet.
Smoothing her hair off her face, he stared into her eyes. “I love you so much Terry.” Then, grabbing her hips, he whispered, “Don’t move, you have me right on the edge.”
But it was too late, she could see it and molded her body to his as he cried out, holding her so close that it took her a moment to grasp that he was crying.
***
Chapter 6
December 3rd
The Monday morning lament; why does time go so fast when you’re not at work? They’d taken showers the night before, so the rush to get ready wasn’t going to be as hectic as Terry had feared. They’d figured it all out when they were getting ready for bed.
“I’ll put my makeup on out here,” she’d said, pointing to the antique vanity and bench that had belonged to her mother.
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“It’s what it’s for,” she explained. “I’ll brush my teeth and wash my face and come out here. It’ll be fine.”
“I have to shave in the morning or I’ll look like a Billy goat.”
“What?” she asked, slapping her leg. “I never heard of that comparison.”
“Trust me,” he replied. “I’ll prove it to you next weekend.”
“Did you shave today?”
“I did,” he said. “It was the last thing I did at my apartment.”
“What about the car? Do you want to drive or should we take the train?”
“That’s up to you,” Terry said. “If you want to stop by your apartment after work and get the rest of your stuff, maybe we could drive.”
“Good point,” he said. “How’d I live without you?”
“Please,” she said, but it made her happy. “You were just fine before I came along.”
“No, actually I wasn’t,” he said. “But it’s not something I think we should start talking about right before bedtime.”
“Gotcha,” she said. “I have a few of those admissions to make myself.”
“Okay, we’ll have confession time next Friday night.”
“Without tequila,” Terry said.
“Definitely without tequila. But can we have some later?”
“Absolutely. But not to the point of amnesia,” she replied. “I’m still wondering what we told each other two nights ago that was so profound that we’d end up living together.”
“Ha! Me, too,” he said, pulling her close. “I’m serious. How’d I live without you?”
“I know. I wonder the same thing about myself. You are what I’ve been waiting for,” she said. “If you don’t come along, I’m alone the rest of my life.”
“Wow, that’s sad,” he said. “I’m not that great of a find.”
“You are too!” she said. “So are we going to just go into work tomorrow and pretend everything’s status quo unless someone asks us differently?”
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll be professional, I mean I’m not going to throw you on the desk even if I want to. But if someone asks or if anything is said, we can be honest about it and then face whatever Vince has for us. Like I said, I’ll find another job if I have to.”
“I’m glad you’re almost on your own,” she said. “Your ninety days will be up. Brenda will come back to me, and you’ll start your own cases.”
“I’m not so sure I want to do that,” he said. “I think we work like a well oiled machine. Why ruin it?”
“What we should do is leave and start our own defense practice,” she said. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while. Not that Vince isn’t great, but I doubt if he or Paul is ready to make a woman a partner, and I’m not going to be satisfied without it for much longer.”
“Wow. I never thought about going out on my own,” he said.
“Let’s just play it by ear. Vince may force our hands. If he does, bye bye Vinny.”
Grabbing her wind up clock, she set the alarm. “How long do you need to get ready?” she asked.
“Half an hour tops. But I like to have coffee before I leave the house,” he said. “Get the juices going, so to speak.”
“Right, me too. If we give ourselves an hour to get to work so we’re not rushing in right at nine, we should get up at seven,” Terry stated, winding the clock. “Does that do it for you?”
“Seven is perfect. And we’ll drive so we can have coffee in the car. This is great!” Then, he rolled over to face her. “So, are you going to cuddle with me?” he asked, a silly grin on his face because he already knew she liked her space.
“Yes, dear,” she drawled. “I’ll start out cuddling, but you know I have to turn on my side.”
They began their life together in this way, holding each other, and then after Alex’s breathing settled down, and she thought he might be sleeping, she turned from him, wide awake, frightened. Nothing had been said yet, but she was sure he was suffering after the deployment to Iraq. Whether it stemmed from the actual tour, or because of what had transpired once he got home, his soon-to-be ex Jennifer asking for a divorce, Terry knew there would be something they had to work through, hopefully, whatever it was soon to be exposed.
***
The bells of her windup alarm clock jangled both their eardrums and their nerves at seven Monday morning.
“You go first,” Alex moaned.
Terry rolled out of bed, yawning, wishing there were two bathrooms in the apartment. Makeup waiting on the vanity, she soon finished in the bathroom, and came out, hoping the few minutes she’d left the window open would be enough to air it out.
“It’s all yours,” she said, embarrassed. “Hold your breath.”
“Mine will soon infiltrate the whole apartment,” he said. “No worries.”
“Courtesy flush,” she said, unable to keep from laughing.
It was going to be okay.
Sitting at her mother’s vanity to put her makeup on and do her hair was nice after all. She went into the kitchen to wash her hands before getting dressed, hating to smear skin-colored makeup on the buttonholes of her shirt. Standing in the closet doorway, she chose an eggplant colored wool suit with a short pleated skirt and a long, tight fitted jacket. She didn’t wear it much because Brenda told her she overheard Paul tell Vince he “wanted to jump Terry whenever she wears that purple skirt. She looks like a yummy cheerleader.”
Slipping knee length socks over her nylons, and knee-high boots ov
er those, she was ready for a winter’s walk to the train. Her heels were already in her briefcase, which sat in the hallway, untouched since Friday afternoon. She’d have to hustle. Fortunately, she had a new case to work on, a fresh start. Still not worried about Vince, they would be professional in the office and there shouldn’t be any problem.
Sitting at her regular spot at the window with a cup of coffee, Terry waited for the toaster to pop up, and for Alex to get dressed.
“I’m ready!” he said, appearing in the doorway with his tie tucked into his shirt. He grabbed a paper towel and put it in his collar, like a bib. “I know this is necessary from experience.”
Bending over, he kissed her, and she closed her eyes, smelling aftershave, deodorant, toothpaste, and the nerve pathway switched to another, private sensory mode which ended up in between her legs. “You might have to reconsider your aftershave,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“Is it bad?” he asked, straightening up.
“Only if you expect me to attack you in the copy room later today,” she answered. “I’d like to drag you to bed right now.”
“Yikes! I’m ordering a case, then!”
Laughing, she stood to pour his coffee.
“I can get it,” he said. “Sit.”
“No, I like doing for you, just like you seem to like doing for me. We take care of each other. See?” she said, holding up strawberry jam. “I remembered.”
“Aww, thank you,” he said.
“I made our lunches, too; bologna on white with mustard and chips, and an apple and cookies for dessert.”
“If we have matching lunches, people will know,” he said, grinning.
“You have a brown paper bag, and I have a Hello Kitty bag,” she replied.
“I love Hello Kitty! That’s not fair.”
“I’ll get you Transformers bags,” she said, laughing.
After they had toast, and she filled their travel mugs, they bundled up for their walk to the car. Gathering their briefcases, phones and lunches, Terry took a last look around the apartment before descending. Noticing that Alex made the bed thrilled her. It was like she’d made it, the covers just pulled up.
“I think we’re compatible,” she said.
Bittersweets_Terry and Alex Page 6
