Bittersweets_Terry and Alex

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I remember that,” Terry replied, giggling. “Her food is original southern home-cooking. Lots of brown sugar and bacon fat.”

  They walked out to the hallway and Terry took his coat down off the hook. “Thank you, Dad. I feel so much better. I’m exhausted from being up all night, but I’m not so sad. I have you to thank.”

  Kissing his daughter’s cheek, Harry smiled, and put his veteran’s cap on. “I’ll see you in the morning for laughter and food shopping,” he said. “I might take you to Reading Terminal for fresh kielbasa.”

  “I’d love that! Let’s do it,” she said, following him down the stairs.

  She waited at the door, watching him get into his truck and pull out into traffic. A visit from her father was so rare that she made a notation on the calendar. Dad here with pastry.

  Washing up from their coffee and company, sweeping the crumbs up from Vince’s mess, soon the house was back in order and she could rest. First, she wedged a kitchen chair against the entrance door to her apartment. Next, she entered the small, dark bedroom, shut the blinds both there and in the bathroom, and then shut the door. Getting back into bed, exhaustion overcame her and she fell asleep right away.

  ***

  Vince was back in Center City by ten. Ignoring everyone on the way to his office, the receptionist and Brenda shrugged their shoulders.

  “What’s his problem?” Corinne the receptionist said. “He’s been crabby all week.”

  “He fired one of the worker bees on Monday,” Brenda said. “He’s probably got boss’s remorse now.”

  “Brenda, for chrissake, what are you doing?” Paul whined in his office doorway. “I asked for the transcript from Clodfelter’s jury selection.”

  “That was Terry’s case,” Brenda said, smirking when he slammed the door. “Now I get to be his whipping boy because he’s stuck with it and doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “Why doesn’t he get Alex involved since he worked on it with Terry in the first place?” the receptionist asked.

  “Good question, but I’m just a peon here,” Brenda said.

  “You’re an attorney, Brenda. Stop putting yourself down. Why are you satisfied to work at this capacity anyway?”

  “I’m going to call Terry and beg her to ask Vince for her job back,” Brenda said, ignoring Corinne. “This place sucks without her.”

  Walking away without saying anything more, Brenda truly missed her friend. For five years, they’d spent part of everyday together. She went to her office, more like a cubical with walls, and picked up the phone.

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, when Terry answered. “But you sound pretty chipper this morning.”

  “I really am. My dad was here this morning!”

  “Oh my God! He must have been really worried to venture across town on a weekday,” Brenda said.

  “You know it, and he brought pastry. I have such a delayed sugar rush. After he left, I fell asleep for an hour until the sugar and caffeine kicked in.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Brenda asked, a little jealous that she was stuck in the office.

  “I think I’ll take a walk uptown. There’s a new used bookstore on Germantown Avenue.”

  “Oh, I wish I could go!” she whined.

  “The next time you have a day off, come up here,” she said. “You’d better get back to work and I want to get started on my day. Talk later?”

  “Of course,” Brenda said, feeling sad and a little like Terry put her off. “Call me when you want to chat.”

  While Brenda did as she was told and got back to work, Terry climbed into bed again. She knew she’d overreacted to Alex. What choice did he have? They’d jumped in to love thinking there was no turning back, and then faced with his ex-wife carrying his child; he had no alternative but to go back to her.

  Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she dialed his cell phone.

  “Hello,” he said, almost a whisper. “I’m so glad you called me. I’m so sorry. I’ve been miserable.”

  “Aww, don’t be miserable. I’m sorry I was so mean. I’ve had time to think and there was really nothing else you could do. It’s my fault for saying I love you so fast.”

  “I love you,” he said, his voice like a fist to her chest. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. We almost can’t stand being in the same room with each other.”

  “Alex, that’s something you’re going to have to work out on your own,” Terry said, trying to be gentle with him. “I can’t be your confidant. It’s still painful for me, even if you had to do what you had to do. It doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like I keep saying that.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re sorry,” she said. “I have something to tell you but you have to swear not to repeat it.”

  “What?”

  “Swear?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  “Vince came here this morning and asked me to come back as a partner.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Alex said. “It’s wonderful for you, but it’s wonderful for me, too. To see you every day again, I can’t imagine how much easier it will make all of this.”

  “We have to keep our distance, though,” she said. “I won’t be a mistress. I have too much respect for your wife.”

  “We’re still divorced,” he said. “We’re not getting married again.”

  “Well, Alex, that’s your business. But it will be nice to work with you. And we did make a good team.”

  Silence on the other end of the line saddened her. Maybe going back to work there wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought it would be.

  “Are you there?” he whispered.

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “All those things I said to you when I was making love to you, I meant,” he said. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but we’re not through. It might be a while before we can be together again fully, but we will be together unless someone else comes along for you.”

  Sighing, Terry wanted to hang up, it was senseless to talk about it. “Alex, I’m not even going to think about that. We’ll see each other again next week. I’m going to say goodbye.”

  She knew he was still there because she could hear him breathing. “Goodbye,” she whispered, ending the call. Snuggling into her pillow, fighting despair came next, with disappointment to follow. During a long weekend with him, she’d convinced herself that she was in love, that she was loveable. The damage of being in a relationship like the one she’d had with Arvin was wiped away, but just momentarily, because all of those feelings of inadequacy returned. It wasn’t her fault that Jennifer was pregnant and that Alex had decided to stand by her. She decided it was admirable that he was trying to do the right thing by Jennifer.

  What was her fault was that she’d gotten so drunk that she fell into bed with her law clerk, evidently screwing him into submission because the next day he moved into her apartment.

  Cringing thinking about the things he’d done to her body, and moaning with regret over what she’d done to him, pulling the pillow over her head, her lack of judgement in a seething cesspool of self-hatred, she just prayed he didn’t get drunk on tequila with anyone else in the office, and tell all her secrets.

  Cycling through depression, to resignation, to understanding, she finally fell asleep again at noon.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  A crash in Benny’s apartment woke her up at one thirty. He’d probably tripped over something on the way to the bathroom, or the cat knocked something over. Yawning, she stretched, deciding to get up and make her way to the used book store a few blocks away.

  Brushing her teeth again, she would go au naturel; just a little lipstick. Frost on the kitchen window led her to choose warm clothes, including knee boots, a heavy down-filled jacket, and knitted cap and mittens. A scarf, her phone and wallet, and she was ready to go. It had been ages since she did something like
this; her head was empty of anything sad or stressful, her goal to enjoy herself.

  The sidewalk along Germantown Avenue was cobbled and she had to be careful not to slip on the frosty stones. A trolley went by, and the traffic backed up behind it, impatient drivers trying to get around it reminded her of her hectic life, running from one place to the next, always in a hurry, unable to enjoy the journey. She’d make an effort not to allow that to happen to her.

  Trudging up Germantown, she saw a table and chairs on the frosty sidewalk, occupied by two ladies bundled up, sitting outside having hot tea in spite of the cold. Would she ever have a friend like that? They looked so happy together. Brenda had the potential to be a good friend, but her relationship with Larry transcended female friendships. If he was around, they were attached at the hip. Hating to call Brenda’s house in case Larry answered, sometimes he’d join in their conversations which irritated Terry. Maybe she needed to ask herself why she was so rigid in her thinking. It was one thing to not like Larry, another to think Brenda owed her anything.

  The closer she got, she could hear the women speaking to each other in a language which sounded eastern European. They looked up at her and smiled when she slowed down her pace. She’d have tea before she went into the book shop. The doorway was hung with fresh pine roping and white lights, evident on the gray day. Inside, a slender tree decorated with gingerbread and red ribbons made Terry think she might do a tree after all, remembering what Harry had said about keeping traditions.

  The proprietor, a young man whom she’d seen around the neighborhood took her order. “I’ll take it to go,” she said. “I’m headed to the book store.”

  “He serves tea there for customers,” he said, pausing.

  “No, go ahead. I’ll take my own this time. Have you shopped there yet?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. It’s fabulous,” he said. “I hope they make it. It’s a tough time for small business, especially in this neighborhood.”

  “I’ll have to make a point of going in there more often,” she said, handing money over. “Thanks.”

  The women at the table smiled at Terry as she came out with her tea. The bookstore was next door. The sun peeked out for a second as fast moving clouds obscured its light. Pine wreaths hung on lamp posts, and the colonial buildings along the street had been decorated with electric candles in every window, wreaths on every door, and sparkling lights in the trees.

  “I’m decorating,” she said to the air.

  The familiar field stone architecture juxtaposed with old frame structures looked perfect decorated for Christmas.

  “Why didn’t I ever notice this before? I really love this neighborhood.”

  The bookstore was ready for the holiday, the display windows on either side of the entrance festooned with pine roping like the tea shop had. Book carts with sale books were outside on the sidewalk. Opening the door, a gust of warm, fragrant air rushed out at Terry and she sniffed the air; cinnamon, pine, and something else she couldn’t place.

  “It’s vanilla.”

  “What?” she asked, looking around to see who had spoken.

  “Everyone who comes in sniffs the air.”

  Standing at the top of a library ladder looking down at her with a smile, Jason Saunders put the last of a pile of books he’d held in his arms into place in the top shelves. In her confusion, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fashion model from the nineteen seventies, with a knitted argyle vest over a white dress shirt, even wearing a tie. She took it all in; from his handsome, chiseled face, clean shaven, black hair perfectly coiffed, down to his argyle socks and polished wing tips.

  “But how did you know there was a scent I couldn’t place?” she asked.

  “The place is loaded with cinnamon from the tea shop’s baked goods, and pine from the roping. The question is always, ‘I recognize the cinnamon and the pine, but what’s the other scent?’ It’s the candle,” he said, coming down the ladder, pointing. “Vanilla.”

  “Oh, gotcha,” she said, laughing. “I’m a little slow today.”

  “Not really. My attempt at small talk and flirting is obviously lame.”

  Hopping off the ladder, he extended his hand, further confusing her. Did he greet every patron like this?

  “Welcome to Book Heaven,” he said after introducing himself. “I’d offer you tea but I see you’ve come prepared.”

  She held her cup up. “Yes. I’ve wanted to come in here since you opened and I finally have a day off.”

  “Well, make yourself at home,” he said.

  “Ah, I see my genre,” pointing at a sign, Crime Fiction, calligraphy written in red ink beckoned her.

  She climbed three steps to a long hallway divided into cubicles designated for different genres. In the Crime Fiction cubical, a low, upholstered chair invited her to sit and read, and she did just that, losing herself in her favorite authors.

  Losing all track of time, it wasn’t until the jiggling of the bells on the front door snapped her out of her trance that she realized she’d been there for forty-five minutes. A stack of books were coming home with her, two trips to the counter necessary she had so many.

  “I see you found something,” Jason said, teasing, taking the stacks from her.

  “I know what I’ll be doing for the next few days,” she said, getting out her wallet.

  “Come back on Saturday,” he said, pushing a postcard invitation across the counter. “Jessie Wilcox will be here to do a reading of her new mystery.”

  Terry was familiar with her writing. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll do that.”

  “Can I carry these out to your car?” he asked.

  “I’m in the neighborhood,” she said. “I walked over.”

  “This is a lot to carry,” he said. “I can deliver them later if you’d like.”

  “I think I’ll be okay,” she said, smiling. “If you can divide them in two bags, I’ll be balanced.”

  She paid with a credit card and he handed her the receipt.

  “Thank you so much,” he said. “That’s the largest sale I’ve ever made on a Wednesday.”

  “I hope not for long,” she said. “This is a great shop. I’ll let my neighbors know they need to get over here.”

  Another customer entered and offered Terry a chance to get away. Talking with Jason Saunders was almost too nice, making her feel guilty that she could transfer her feelings from being sad about Alex to interested in Jason so quickly.

  Careful not to slip on the wet cobblestone on her way down the hill toward home, she realized that was the beauty of not being married. It was Alex who was married. She had nothing to feel guilty about.

  ***

  At six-thirty that night, immersed in modern London crime fiction, after eating warmed up leftover Chinese food from Saturday night, the buzzer rang.

  Getting up to look at the security camera, she’d had more company that day than she’d had in the previous month. Pressing the button, she saw a familiar man on the screen, and then that it was Jason from the bookstore. Alarm bells went off. Why would he be there, and how did he know where she lived?

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “It’s Jason Saunders,” he said. “You left your credit card at Book Heaven this afternoon. I’m so sorry. I know this seems a little creepy. I found your address online.”

  “I’ll be right down,” she said, taking a quick look in the hallway mirror.

  Earle was standing in his doorway, waiting for her. “Do you need a chaperone?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “He’s awfully good looking. Now shush.”

  “I’ll be right here,” he said, closing his door.

  Turning the lock, she couldn’t help smiling when she saw him again. “Thank you so much for bringing it by,” she said. “I didn’t notice it was missing. I’m going grocery shopping with my father tomorrow and I’d go to pay for my food and there wouldn’t be a card.”

  She heard Earle’s door opening aga
in. “Oh, this is my neighbor. Earle, this is Jason from Book Heaven,” she said.

  “Oh! I love that store,” Earle said. “Come in out of the cold. I just made a hot toddy.”

  “Are you sure I’m not interrupting?” Jason asked.

  “Come in,” Terry said, standing back to let him through.

  She loved Earle’s apartment, its cozy fireplace and book-lined walls. It was the original living room of the house, divided into the sitting room and Earle’s bedroom. A narrow hallway led to a small bathroom and the original, gigantic kitchen.

  “Have a seat,” Earle said. “I’ll bring the drinks.”

  “My dad brought pastry this morning from Eagles. Should I get them?” Terry asked.

  “Drunks don’t like sweets,” Earle said. “But perhaps Jason would like dessert.”

  “I’m fine thank you,” he said.

  When Earle left the room, he turned to Terry again. “You live upstairs?”

  “Yep, third floor,” she said. “Where do you live?”

  “Above my store,” he said. “I bought the building intending on turning the whole thing into a single family residence, but the store was already full of books.”

  “I remember that place in the seventies,” Earle said, bring three glass mugs in on a silver tray; so Earle. “The couple who ran the store were good friends of mine. They also owned an art gallery in Germantown. I had several solo shows there.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Terry said, pointing to a canvas in progress on the easel. “I love your landscape paintings.”

  “As you can see from the photo pinned to it, this is from Wissahickon Park.”

  “My favorite thing to do in winter is walk to Valley Green for hot chocolate,” Terry said. “I might do that this weekend.”

  “We have Mrs. Dell’s party Saturday night,” Earle said.

  “And don’t forget Jessie Wilcox Saturday afternoon,” Jason said. “It came out like I was asking you as a customer, but it was really my sneaky way to get a date.”

  “Oh! Is that right?” Terry asked, laughing. “Well I guess I’d better give you a real answer then. I’d like to attend.”