Bittersweets_Terry and Alex

by Suzanne Jenkins

  Figuring out a way to tell Alex she was pregnant in the first place took all of her creativity. Taking a half day off on Tuesday, the plan was to prepare a romantic dinner at his apartment in Philadelphia. She shopped on the way into the city, buying rib eye steak, his favorite, with twice baked potatoes, fresh asparagus, salad and a cherry cheese cake for dessert. Arriving at two that afternoon, she was surprised that it appeared he’d removed most of his belongings. It looked like he was preparing to move again.

  Trying not to pry, she didn’t dig through his things, although it was tempting. Instead, she texted him, not telling him she was there, but trying to figure out if he was coming back before she made a meal for nothing.

  We need to talk about some unfinished business regarding our divorce. Can we talk on the phone tonight? She texted.

  I’ll be home by six. Call me then, he answered.

  She felt safe fixing the food, preparing for his arrival. They were going to have a baby!

  On Tuesday night when Alex returned to his apartment to pick up the rest of his belongings to move to Terry’s apartment and take the call with Jennifer, he was shocked to smell steak cooking, and see candles lit when he opened the door.

  “Surprise!” she said, wearing little else than an apron and high heels.

  “Jennifer…”

  “I know, Alex. But I have something to say. Will you just listen to me? Take your coat off and sit own. I promise it won’t take long.”

  “Put some clothes on,” he said, clearly not happy with her attempted seduction.

  Not arguing with him, she grabbed her coat and put it on.

  “Do you want to eat?” she asked.

  “No. What is it? What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Jennifer knew Alex well enough to know that he responded to a positive approach so that was the way she’d word her news.

  “Alex, I have exciting news!” she said, jumping up and down a little bit.

  “What?”

  “We’re pregnant! I just found out,” she lied. “I’m almost sixteen weeks.”

  Standing up, his overcoat still on, Alex began to pace. He ran his hands over his head. Standing at the window, he ignored the lights of the city and closed his eyes. What was she telling him? One sexual encounter when he got back and now they were stuck?

  “I thought you were on the pill,” he said.

  “There was no reason to stay on it while you were gone,” she replied.

  With her New York lover, they used other means because she wasn’t certain she was the only one he was sleeping with and she wanted to stay healthy. This information wasn’t shared with Alex.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Alex asked.

  Why didn’t she? So many thoughts swarmed through her mind. She was uncertain herself whether or not she would have the baby. Then, she didn’t know that she could tolerate living with Alex.

  “Because I’m telling you now,” she said, unwilling to let him intimidate her. “Either you want to be involved, or you don’t. It’s up to you.”

  After he paced a while longer, he sat down at the table, pushing the plate away. “So I guess we’re having a baby together,” he said. “What’s next?”

  “Oh, I’m so happy! I think we should try living together,” she said. “But I hate this place and I’m not crazy about this city, either.”

  “My job is here,” he said.

  “We’ll discuss that later,” she replied, leaning over to blow out the candle.

  “I have an errand to run,” he said, standing up.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  And with that, he was gone. He came back later, ignoring her. “You can have the bedroom,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Just for tonight,” she said. “I’m going back to my own apartment in the morning. I can’t commute to Manhattan from here.”

  Wherever he went that night, he returned later in a foul mood, refusing to talk to her outside of the basics. He’d brought in bags from a fast food restaurant, and sat in sweatpants with legs crossed under him on the couch, the television blasting away, eating smelly burgers and fries.

  The next morning she got up at dawn to get to work on time, Alex still on the couch. He let her kiss him on the cheek when she left. Stinking of old grease and bad breath, she wondered if she would be able to tolerate him for the sake of a pregnancy.

  Two days later, she was feeling a little hysteria. Although he’d said he’d move to New Jersey, she felt it was a peacekeeping mission and not because he really wanted to live with her, his distance from her growing if it was possible.

  The question remained – would they be able to make the marriage work.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  December 8th

  Christmas was in full display at Mrs. Dell’s graduation party. The old colonial stone house, built in the early nineteen hundreds, lent itself to all the trappings of a traditional Christmas. Every inch of the interior was a feast for the eyes, with collections of antique nativity scenes and winter dioramas galore.

  Terry dressed for the party, unearthing an ancient plum velvet long skirt she’d had in high school, worn with the fuzzy white angora sweater which immediately shed fur all over the skirt.

  “It’s fine,” Harry Kovac said when she complained about it to him. “You look like you’re covered in frost. It’s very appropriate.”

  Harry chatted in depth with Earle and Mrs. Dell while Terry studied little miniature winter scenes the hostess had arranged for her party. One of Terry’s favorites from years past was a scene of penguins ice skating on a small mirrored pond, surrounded by Victorian cottages. Lighted Dickens Villages and mechanized Christmas characters covered every surface. Sipping a hot coffee with Irish Crème, the alcohol went right to her head and she shivered when she realized she’d better slow down.

  “Are you cold?”

  Terry looked up at a kind and familiar face. “Did I just see you at Book Heaven this afternoon?”

  “That be it,” he said smiling. “Rick Adams, unemployed musician.”

  “Is it your piano I hear on the way to the train every morning?” she asked, awestruck.

  “It is,” he said. “That be me. I don’t know why I’m talking like this. I must be nervous.”

  “No, that be me,” she said, laughing. “Why are you unemployed? You’re amazing. A group of us waited for another train one day last summer just to hear the rest of Rachmaninoff.”

  “Wow, I’m so flattered. But I honestly didn’t know the sound carried that far. I’m behind you on Mount Airy Avenue.”

  “So are you telling me I should close my shades?” she asked, smiling.

  “No, please don’t,” he said. “I can only see at night if your light is on. I like watching you read.”

  “Oh jeez, the shades will be pulled tonight,” she said, laughing. “So how do you know Mrs. Dell?”

  “Besides living behind her? We actually took a class together about ten years ago in my attempt to try to do something else for a living,” he said. “But the lure of the piano was too strong, so I’ll just keep making guest appearances. The holidays are lean times. I have one more concert coming up. Then I’ll play at church for the next few weeks until the winter concert season starts in February.”

  “It will be to the neighborhood’s benefit then,” she said. “I’ll keep my windows open on warm days.”

  “Dinner is served,” Mrs. Dell called out.

  Guests filed into her dining room. “I’ve spied on many a dinner party in here from my bedroom window,” Terry whispered to Rick.

  “Third floor, correct?” he asked, and she nodded, pointing up to a third story window.

  “Living here is wonderful, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “It certainly is,” he said.

  “You two are sitting together,” Mrs. Dell said, winking. “Right over there.”

  They moved aroun
d the table to their spots, side by side.

  “What a beautiful table!” Earle proclaimed.

  “Hear hear Mrs. Dell,” Harry Kovac called out.

  Hired help for the evening served the first course while congratulatory speeches were made. Rick kept Terry entertained with his stories of the neighborhood, including vignettes from Benny and Earle’s lives.

  “We were so happy when you moved in,” Rick said. “Especially Mrs. Dell.”

  “Why? Everyone is so nice here,” Terry replied.

  “Too many X chromosomes,” he said.

  Terry felt safe talking to Rick. If he’d been even remotely interested in her, she thought, he would have tried to meet her before now. It took a lot of pressure off her, and before she knew it, she was comfortably sharing life’s stories with him, and he with her.

  Dinner was an amazing meal of southern cooking, everything smothered in drippings, brown sugar, whipping cream and butter. Harry met her gaze and they both mouthed be careful.

  A bit of each dish, and Terry was finished, pushing what was left around her plate. Watching the others dig in gave her a bit of concern; they’d be excusing themselves for the bathroom before too long. What a thing to think of! She thought.

  Looking over at Rick’s plate, she saw that he’d limited himself to a very small portion too, and did the same thing she was, sort of pushing it around.

  “You’ve eaten here before?” she whispered.

  “Yes. I had to vault the fence and almost didn’t make it home last time,” he said frowning.

  “My dad went to the ER thinking he was having a heart attack,” she said, nodding over to Harry.

  “Your dad?”

  “Yep, old dad,” she said. “The biscuits are amazing. I’ll have one of those.”

  He passed her the basket of hot rolls and she took two, just to be safe. “In case I get hungry later,” she said, smiling.

  “What do you think of Jason Saunders?” Rick said.

  “What do I think of him?” she asked, not sure what he was driving at. “I think he’s very nice. What do you think of him?”

  “I think he’s in the closet,” Rick said, a twitch on the side of his face.

  “Are you interested?” Terry whispered.

  “I am, big time. But I think he’s got some ax to grind with the gay community here, and he’s going to do it by denying who he is.”

  “Isn’t that for him to decide? I mean, most of us have some aspect of our personalities that are better left under wraps.”

  “What’s yours?” he asked. “That is if I may be so bold.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think I’m meant to be single and I haven’t accepted it yet.”

  “Oh, I don’t get that vibe at all,” he said, closing his eyes and placing his hand on her arm. “I see you barefoot and pregnant, digging a garden in the backyard with little babies rolling all over the place.”

  “You do?” she asked, wistful. “Wow, that’s a first. I’ve always been so focused on my career I’ve never given much thought to motherhood.”

  “Well, I see it,” Rick said. “In my circles I’m known as the great seer.”

  “You are?” she asked, looking at him for confirmation.

  “No, not really, but in my own mind I am.”

  They laughed, giving each other a gentle push. “I was interested in you when we first met,” Terry said in a soft voice. “I felt chemistry with you. I’m a little regretful that you’re gay.”

  “Is that right? Because I’ll take it under consideration,” he said, teasing her.

  “I have so few friends,” she said, matter of factly. “Do you suppose we’re going to be friends?”

  “I don’t know, but it would be nice. A close friend died last year.”

  “It’s so sad to lose someone you love,” she said, at a loss for words.

  Whether from paranoia or the Bailey’s, Terry thought she noticed a distinct change of attitude in her dinner partner after the conversation.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, pushing away from the table.

  Listening to the conversation swirling around her, she watched her father animatedly chatting with a female classmate of Mrs. Dell. Wondering if he’d ever consider dating again, Terry felt happy for him, knowing how lonely Harry had been since her mom died.

  She looked up just as Rick returned. “Do you want to step outside with me?” he whispered. “I need a breath of air.”

  “Sure,” she said, picking up her plate.

  “Leave that plate right there,” Mrs. Dell called out. “Come back for dessert; pie, bread pudding and more.”

  Following Rick out of the dining room, Terry glanced over at Harry who was still in deep conversation with the woman.

  “Which coat is yours?” Rick asked, standing by the hall tree.

  Terry reached for hers; long, red wool, and double-breasted. “This one.”

  “How festive!” Rick said. Holding up his, a Carhardt lined with plaid flannel, he laughed. “I’m ready to plow the fields.”

  “Do you want to farm? You mentioned gardening in the Earth Mother fantasy you had about me.”

  “It’s my dream,” he said, opening the door for her. “Every Sunday I drive out to Chester County and look at property.

  “Wow, that sounds so nice,” she said. “I haven’t taken a Sunday drive since last summer.”

  “You ought to come with me tomorrow,” Rick said, pointing to the swing on the expansive porch. “We can stop for lunch along the way. There are some interesting little diners along the route I take.”

  Thinking about her choices; she could wait for Arvin to call her, or spend the day with a new friend.

  “I’d love to go along,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m relaxing just thinking about it.”

  Sitting down side by side, he put his arm around Terry’s shoulders, and she put her head back against him. “If anyone comes out here, they’ll think we’re in love,” Rick said.

  “We are, sort of. You’ve been watching me read at my kitchen table, and I’ve been listening to you play wonderful music for how long?”

  “Five years,” he said. “We’ve known of each other for five years.”

  The next morning, she got up, excited about her day. Rick called first thing. “Do you want to leave in an hour?”

  “Perfect,” she said. “Come for breakfast first.”

  “Really?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

  “Come.”

  After going through her morning toilette, she wrapped a bath towel around her head to protect her hair against cooking odors, and put a pound of bacon on. Mixing up pancake batter next, she got a pan out to heat, set the little table, and put butter and syrup out.

  The buzzer rang, and she ran down the staircase to let Rick in.

  “Are you converting to Islam?” he asked.

  It took Terry a few seconds to figure out he meant the towel. “Ha! No, I’m cooking bacon and unless you want to smell bacon in my hair all day, I do this.”

  “I’d be happy to smell bacon all day,” he said, laughing, following her up the staircase.

  Standing aside to let him through the doorway, Terry was suddenly aware of being light hearted. Sniffing the air, Rick rubbed his belly. “Yum! Sunday breakfast.”

  “I don’t cook it often, but when I do, watch out,” she said. “Have a seat. I’ll pour your coffee.”

  They made small talk while he looked out the window at her yard. “How much of that yard is yours?” he asked.

  “As much as I want, I guess,” she said. “Benny couldn’t be bothered, and Earle likes to putter, but he says it’s too much.”

  “If we have the time next spring, we’ll do something with your yard.”

  Placing a plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon in front of him, pleased with herself, she said, “Bon appetite! I have more, but you said we would go out to lunch and I don’t want to ruin that opportunity. I love to go out to eat.”

  “Oh,
we’re definitely going to do that,” he said. “As you can tell, I love to eat.”

  “You have a very impressive physique,” Terry said. “Don’t put yourself down.”

  The buzzer rang out. “Honestly, for some reason my doorbell has rung more in the past week than it has in the past year,” she said, getting up to look at the security camera.

  “Oh! It’s Jason Saunders,” she said, turning back to the kitchen. “That’s weird.”

  “I’ll wait until you come back,” he said.

  “No! Finish up before it gets cold,” she said, skipping down the stairs. “I hate cold food.”

  Standing in the window of the door, Jason was bundled up with a heavy jacket, a scarf, even ear muffs, and seeing them made her laugh, opening the door with a big smile for him.

  “Good morning, Jason,” she said.

  “Is it too early?” he said. “I was taking my morning walk and couldn’t resist coming up your path.”

  “Come in,” she said, stepping aside. “Rick Adams is here having breakfast with me.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt your meal,” he said, frowning.

  “Come. I have plenty for you, as well. You want to replace those calories you burned walking, don’t you?”

  She led the way into the apartment, pointing to the kitchen. “Go in there and have a seat,” she said. “I’ll take your coat.”

  Keeping one ear peeled, she wanted to hear the conversation. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Jason might be admonishing Rick.

  “I don’t want to sit in your place,” Jason said when she walked in.

  “I have the stool,” she said, pulling a high stool over and moving her plate. “How about bacon and pancakes and coffee?”

  He agreed, although she wondered if he wasn’t just agreeing to be personable. By his lean physique, he certainly didn’t appear to have bacon and pancakes on a regular basis. They made small talk and in the interim, she felt a distinct tension between the two men.