Bittersweets_Terry and Alex

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. “If you’re sure you don’t want more food, I’m going to take breakfast down to Earle.”

  It wasn’t something she regularly did, but she wanted to give the men room to talk. Having no idea what their problem was, whatever it was definitely was not being helped by her presence.

  “I’m stuffed,” Rick said, leaning back in the chair.

  “Me, too. No more for me,” Jason said, picking up his plate.

  “Stay put,” she said, reaching for it. “You be done there, Ricky? How about more coffee?”

  “That be it,” he said, laughing.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, taking a container of food with her.

  Wishing she was a fly on the wall, she was sure that either the trip to look at a farm would be cancelled, or Jason was going to tag along.

  “Knock knock,” she said to the crack in Earle’s door.

  He was sitting at his easel, a paint brush in hand.

  “Ah, my lovely neighbor,” he said. “Come in, come in.”

  “No I can’t, I have two men upstairs waiting for me,” she said.

  “Both gay,” Earle said. “Don’t waste your time.”

  “They’re just friends,” Terry said, handing him the food.

  “You’re not kidding,” Earle said. “What’s this?”

  “Breakfast. Pancakes and bacon.”

  “Oh, delicious! I’ll eat it for lunch,” he replied.

  “Goodbye, my friend. I’d better get up there to see if my plans for the day have suddenly changed.”

  “You can count on it,” he said.

  But when she got back to her apartment, the conversation seemed amicable enough, Jason getting up to leave. Rick was at the counter, pouring more coffee into his cup.

  “Are you taking off?” Terry asked.

  “Yep, better get the store opened up. I have noon on the door in case I get an invitation I can’t pass up. But if I open up now, when church lets out at ten, I might get a few customers.”

  “See you around, Jason,” Rick called out.

  Terry followed Jason down the stairs. “You won’t have to go to the gym today,” Jason said. “Your third trip.”

  “My body is immune to the stairs,” she said. “Have a nice day, Jason. I hope you sell a ton of books.”

  He nodded, but seemed to be on the brink of saying something; then shook his head and turned to leave.

  “Jason, what?” she asked. “If you want to speak, speak.”

  “Why are you wasting your time with him?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, stymied.

  “Rick! He’s gay, you know that, right.”

  “So,” she said. “So what.”

  “Why are you going to spend the day with him?” Jason asked. “I don’t get it. I thought we made a connection the other night.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “So what if we made a connection.”

  “Never mind,” he said, turned again.

  “Jason, I can’t read your mind, alright? I’m too old, and too tired to play games. If you’re interested, do something about it. In the meantime, I’m spending the day with someone who felt I was worth making the effort to see. Meanwhile, don’t let the gate hit you in the ass. Goodbye.”

  He stood there with his mouth open, and she closed the doors, nodding at him with a smile before she turned to run back up the stairs. Had all the men on earth taken leave of their senses?

  Rick was waiting at the top of the stairs. “Well, did he ask you on a date?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t have gone, anyway. I am not interested in Jason Saunders. I thought you were,” she said.

  “He’s kind of a weasel, isn’t he,” Rick said, chuckling.

  “Yes,” she answered, shortly. “So, shall we head to lands south?”

  “Yes!” he said, high-fiving with her.

  Laughing, they grabbed their coats and ran down the stairs like teenagers going to a party. Terry followed Rick to his truck parked on the street. “You really should be a farmer,” she said.

  “I told you,” he replied, unlocking her door and holding it for her.

  “My dad would be jealous of this truck,” she said.

  Setting out for their adventure, Terry’s lighthearted joyfulness was contagious, and before long Rick was transported, too. It would be one of the best Sunday’s both of them had in a long time.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  December 10th

  Monday morning, Terry was putting her shoes on when the phone rang. It was Rick.

  “Are you on your way out the door?”

  “Just about,” she answered. “Why are you up so early?”

  “I have a job in Pittsburgh this week,” he said. “I completely forgot to mention it. I’m leaving soon. It takes about six hours. Tomorrow I’ll practice with the orchestra, then Wednesday night there’s a concert. You can watch it online if you want.”

  “Of course I will! How exciting,” she said.

  “Have a good day at your first day of being a partner,” he said. “I’m so impressed.”

  “Thank you, Rick. That means a lot to me.”

  They exchanged pleasantries and finally said goodbye, Rick promising to call her that evening to see how her day went.

  “Text me when you get to Pittsburgh so I don’t worry,” she replied.

  “Aww, you don’t have to worry about me, but it is nice,” he said.

  Bundling up for her walk to the train, Terry took a last look in the mirror. She was wearing a pantsuit. It was old, since her law school days, but classic, with slim, ankle-length pants and a longer, fitted jacket. At least her legs would be warm.

  Rick had helped her put her boxes of books on the porch the night before, and a messenger service was going to come by that morning to take them back to the office, all at Vince’s expense.

  In twenty-four hours, Rick had become the friend Terry had lacked. Although she loved Brenda, Terry couldn’t share the news about work with her or the drama with Alex. That left seventy-five percent of her life unshareable.

  Her briefcase weighed more than usual, and it pulled on her shoulder as she trekked down the hill. The usual collection of people waited at the train, stamping their feet to stay warm and keep the circulation going. A horn beeped and everyone looked up in time to see Rick in his truck waving madly at Terry.

  “Call me later!” she cried out, oblivious to the smiling faces finding the unabashed affection refreshing as he yelled back, “Of course!”

  “Boyfriend?” an older man asked.

  “No, my neighbor,” she said. “Just a very good friend.”

  Their conversation started up a conversation among the others, how they all lived in the area of the train station, and how strange it was that no one who rode the train seemed to know anyone else.

  “I’ve been riding this train for over twenty years,” one lady said. “Imagine, on the same train, with some of you same people for over twenty years, and no one knows my name.”

  “Do you know mine?” the man said. “I’ve been here everyday too, and have seen you.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she said, looking sad.

  “People are tired in the morning,” Terry said. “It took all of our energy to get here. No one wants to make small talk in the morning. And at night, I’m so happy to be going home, I’m almost in a trance when I get on board.”

  “Me too!” the lady said.

  “So I don’t think it’s uncaring that no one knows my name,” Terry said. “I’m actually kind of glad.”

  The others started to laugh, but the man shook his head. “It’s sad,” he said. “We should have a get together for Christmas this year.”

  “Do you really want to celebrate a holiday with a bunch of strangers? We don’t have anything in common except we ride the same train. I could be an ax murderer for all you know.”

  “Are you?” someone asked.
>
  “Not yet,” Terry said, and the other laughed. “But the day is young.”

  Girding her patience, Terry knew seeing Alex was not going to be easy. She’d managed to forget about him for a few hours, and it was nice and peaceful. But on the way in to Center City, the uneasiness of working with him again increased. Vince was correct forbidding interoffice relations after all. Bypassing catching a cab to the office, she hoped walking would help her deal with the anxiety.

  Arriving right at nine, she was surprised to see that her boxes had arrived ahead of her. Corinne, the receptionist stood up when Terry walked in, giving her a warm hug, surprising Terry.

  “We are so glad you came back, especially Brenda,” she said. “Vince made the announcement about five minutes ago that you’re a partner. You have a new office, too, back in the executive suite.”

  “Thank you so much, Corinne,” Terry said. “I’m happy to be back. I guess I’ll just follow my boxes.”

  “Yep, right around back,” Corinne said.

  The relief that she no longer had an office that adjoined Alex’s palpable, her new office was between Paul’s and Vince’s, like a buffer between two bulls. A huge bouquet of red roses sat on the credenza placed under the long window, dwarfing several other arrangements. Placing her briefcase on the floor, she went to the roses and reached for the card.

  Congratulations and have a wonderful day! Love, Rick. The gesture was so sweet, she smiled, feeling a little weepy. From Harry, a beautiful Christmas arrangement; she’d take that home, another bouquet of roses from Vince and Paul, and a live, miniature rose from Brenda. If Vince had just announced that she made partner, how would Brenda know to get her flowers? Someone had her ear.

  As the hours progressed, when the thought came to her, she refused to entertain it for a second. Like a nymph who peeked at her from behind the drapes, watched her from an open drawer, haunted her from a familiar voice echoing down the hall. It persisted throughout the day, through meetings with Paul and Vince, the county prosecutor, a new defendant, out on bail. There was nothing from Alex, not even a card.

  ***

  Hiding behind the door of his office, Alex watched Terry through a crack on the day she returned to work. Exquisitely dressed, the classic pants suit she wore was beautifully tailored. No one looking at her would know what he knew; that under that slim jacket were big, genuine breasts, breasts that she’d allowed him to make use of in whatever way he wanted.

  The slim pants and long jacket hid her round, full, voluptuous ass. He closed his eyes, remembering that she got on top of him sitting backwards, and he watched his penis slide in and out of her while he held on to her hips. Taking a deep breath, he’d have to stop the daydreaming, or ask her for a replay. That’s when it hit him; they weren’t together any longer. That body wasn’t his. He’d have to remind himself of that fact throughout the day, the disbelief so painful, he almost left the office.

  The countdown to Friday began after her arrival Monday morning. Five days until Friday. He’d give anything if his ex would just go away and he woke up in bed next to Terry. Throughout the day, he’d hear her voice when someone opened her office door, or her light laughter when she left the office with the other partners to go to lunch. What had happened was his fault; she said she loved him. He should have never gotten involved with her. An unwritten rule should be always wait nine months after you have sex with your ex-wife before getting involved with anyone else.

  ***

  Chapter 15

  December 15th

  Saturday morning, Terry woke up feeling horrible. Plans with Harry to grocery shop were a priority, so she tried to pull herself together. Showering and dressing first thing helped a little, but she still wanted to throw up. If she didn’t have at least one cup of coffee, she could add a wretched headache to her already mounting list of complaints.

  Popping a piece of stale white bread in the toaster, a leftover from Alex’s brief appearance in her life, she ate that dry with black coffee and it helped a little.

  The phone rang; Harry. “You getting ready to leave?” he asked. “We want to miss the housewives converging for the big pre-storm rush.”

  “Ugh, I forgot all about that. Yes, I’m headed out the door now.”

  The snow hadn’t started yet, so the sooner she got shopping done, the better. Winding a scarf around her neck twice, she bundled up for the arctic blast they’d talked about on the news the night before. Rick had showed up with dinner; Chinese food, and an eight-foot high Christmas tree. They fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch just like she had with Alex, and at eleven when the news came on, the weatherman warned of this. After the broadcast, Rick left and Terry went to her bed, alone.

  Rick would come back for dinner and Christmas decorating that night if Terry was up to it. Shopping for something special for dinner had been her original plan, but now that she was feeling a little under the weather, maybe a frozen lasagna better come home, too, just in case. The makings for chili and cornbread were easy enough and vegetable soup with homemade rolls, her mother’s recipe, pure comfort food. There would be enough leftover that she wouldn’t have to cook all week.

  Passing by the feminine hygiene products, she grimaced. That was probably why she felt so bad; Aunt Flow was on her way, due around the tenth, and it was already the fifteenth. She reached for a box of tampons and piled other items on top of it so her father didn’t have to make a silly comment as he was known to, when confronted with anything embarrassing.

  “Will you split this with me?”

  She turned around to see Harry standing behind her with a giant layer cake in a box. “Of course! I’d like a piece right now,” she said. “I didn’t feel like eating breakfast and now I’m starving. Plus my neighbor is coming for dinner. I’ll serve it for dessert.”

  “I’ll have the bakery cut it in half,” Harry said. “By the way, I have a dinner date tonight, too.”

  “Dad! I’m so happy for you!” she said, hugging him. “Is it Mrs. Dell’s friend?”

  “Yes. Her name’s Anna Polsky. She lives in Mayfair, so not too far away.”

  Terry smiled realizing that location would mean a lot to her father. If a woman lived across town, it would take too much effort to get to her. Mayfair was about a mile from Tacony.

  “You can probably walk to her house,” Terry said.

  “That’s the idea,” Harry said.

  They went through the checkout line and out to their cars. “Since it’s cold enough that nothing will spoil, do you want to have a cup of coffee with me?” Harry asked.

  “I’d love it,” Terry replied, kissing his cheek. “Shall we get it right here?”

  There was a coffee shop in the strip mall where the grocery store was located.

  “Yes. I want to make sure you’re okay with Anna,” he said.

  “Dad, I’m fine about Anna,” she said. “I swear.”

  “I knew you would be. Anna told me her daughters were upset with her when she dated after her husband died.”

  “How long ago was that?” Terry asked.

  “Twenty years. So they’re probably used it to now,” he said, chuckling.

  “Yes! I’m truly fine with it,” she said.

  A flake of snow drifted down and landed on her nose.

  “What on earth?” she said, looking at her nose.

  “You’d better get home before it really starts snowing,” he warned. “I’ll be worried about you. We can have coffee later.”

  “Okay, thanks Dad, that’s probably a good idea. I love you,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  Leaving Harry always evoked the same response in Terry, watching him in her rearview mirror watching her drive off; abject sadness. She understood why some of her acquaintances over the years preferred to live close to their parents. As they aged, or got sick and died like her mother had, part of the angst was the separation.

  When her indefatigable mother got sick, to her family it was with an air of disbelief. Harry’s love fo
r her transcended what Terry imagined typical married love encompassed. Elizabeth Kovac was to Harry what Wallis Simpson was to King Edward.

  The nightmare began in early summer when she was on the train on her way home from work when her phone rang.

  “Are you sitting down?” Harry had asked.

  “Oh, my God! Did you win the lottery?” Terry cried.

  “No honey, I wish. Your mother is sick. I’m at the hospital with her now. They gave her something for pain, so she’s sleeping, but as soon as you get home if you could come over…”

  That was the beginning of the end. A backache that was blown off by her doctor for over a year received a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. The next day, after the scans were read and choices for treatment delivered to the family, Elizabeth made the decision to go home and wait it out, soon discovering she had two modes which helped her deal with the pain, walking and sleeping. Whenever Terry was able, she visited, including after work daily drop-ins where she’d pull up in front of the house, her parents standing outside, her mother looking beautiful and talking animatedly with Harry.

  Entertaining was done mostly outdoors so Elizabeth could walk around. Standing in one place wasn’t too bad, she could carry on a conversation, the pain steadily crescendoed, and then she’d say, “Come on, walk with me.”

  A frequent vision in the neighborhood, Elizabeth and Harry Kovac walked holding hands, laughing. At night, she’d stand at the stove cooking, swaying from side to side, eating her dinner standing up, and cleaning up afterward. But as soon as dinner was over, she got into the shower, the hot water beating on her body crucial. Harry tucked her into bed, and it was his job to switch ice packs to heating pads; twenty minutes on, twenty off, until she fell asleep.

  Six months later, nothing would control her pain but medication, and hospice got involved. “You’d better say what you have to say to her because once she starts using morphine, the end is near,” they were warned.

  How Harry managed to recover from Elizabeth’s death was a testament to the power of love. Harry loved his daughter too much to give up. Admitting as much to his closest friends, he’d considered suicide, but the thought of leaving Terry petrified him. “I’ll wait until she gets married,” he had said.