Hungry for Love

by Nancy Frederick

  “And what did that bullshit cost me?”

  “I’m sorry hon, I didn’t know. We could try another therapist. Someone with maybe a couch.” She smiled again.

  “I can tell you what a real therapist would say to you. He’d say ‘You’re not listening to your husband. Bad communication,’ that’s what he’d say.”

  “Oh hon. I just want to try everything possible to fix things. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “So give me some respect and give me what I need, what I asked for. Stop all this crap and just leave me alone, okay?” R.J. strode away, as fast as he could, leaving her to drive home alone and then to pace the floor of her bedroom.

  She tried to sew, but it was impossible to concentrate. Annabeth thought over and over about the events with R.J. What was he trying to do, to revisit, going back to their old apartment like that? What was he searching for? Was there something from the early days of their marriage that he yearned for, something that was now missing? If only she could figure this out, she could fix everything, get things back to normal. The phone rang then, startling her.

  “He’s a bastard.”

  “Laurel!”

  “He is.”

  “Sally called me this morning. Are you okay?”

  “It’s just temporary hon, don’t worry.”

  “Come here and stay with me for a while. Let the bastard wonder where you are.”

  “Stop it. How’s New Orleans and your job?”

  “Everything is great here, Mom. That bastard. Doesn’t surprise me one bit. Everything I ever wanted I had to fight him for, fight against everything he ever said, fight to be me.”

  “I wish you and your dad got along better. He means well, really. Oops, another call, wait, can you?”

  “I’ll call you in a day or two.”

  “All right, sweetie, don’t think so badly of your dad. He loves you, you know that. He’s just having a mid-life crisis.”

  “All my life he’s been having some sort of crisis. Bye Mom.”

  Annabeth clicked the phone and heard Maggie’s voice, “Hi. Meet me at Ernie’s at twelve-thirty, okay? My treat.”

  When, less than two hours later, Annabeth sat facing Maggie across one of the eight small tables in Ernie’s Seafood and Gumbo Shop, the first thing she heard was “I can’t believe you didn’t call me right away! So you found out about that tramp and you kicked his sorry ass out of the house?”

  Before Annabeth fully realized what Maggie had said, their waitress came over. The menu was limited, and in fact, they didn’t need to review it. Ernie’s was essentially a fish market, and on the side they sold fried fish, bowls of gumbo, and a salad made primarily of iceberg lettuce and topped with shrimp, crabmeat, and cherry tomatoes. There were French fries available as well as hush puppies, and usually some kind of cake or pie.

  “I’ll have the fish platter,” said Maggie. “And some iced tea.”

  “I’m not hungry. I’ll just keep you company.” Annabeth’s stomach was churning.

  Maggie squinted at Annabeth. “Eat something, will you? I hate eating alone. Makes me look like a pig.”

  “Okay a bowl of gumbo and some ice water, please.”

  “You should have the fish platter.”

  When the waitress was out of earshot, Annabeth spoke in a voice that was so low it was almost inaudible, “There’s nobody else— he’s having a mid-life crisis. I’m sure that’s what it is.”

  “I saw him with a little tramp two months ago.”

  Annabeth’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

  The restaurant, being occupied by only one other pair of luncheon companions wasn’t busy, and Carol was hardly overtaxed by her job, but when she arrived with the food, only moments after it was ordered, she carried two fish platters and two iced teas, which she set in front of Annabeth and Maggie. Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but then shrugged and let Carol go back into the kitchen.

  “What did you see? I mean R.J.”

  “I saw him walking into the Rusty Lantern at lunchtime with some little tramp. Didn’t think it would do you any good to know, so I kept silent. Practically killed me. At least now it’s out in the open and you’re well rid of him. About time too.”

  “You saw him eating with a woman right here in town? Oh come on, Maggie, it must be innocent. No man would be that stupid.” Saything that out loud made her feel a bit better.

  “Since when did R.J. ever do what makes sense? It’s not like he cares what anybody thinks of him or his antics. You’re well rid of him. You should have ditched him long ago, and I’m going to make it my business to find you someone else, a decent guy like Hugh.”

  “I love R.J., and he has a lot of good in him, even if he does do the occasional screwy thing. I can’t imagine my life without him.” Annabeth sighed. “What did this woman look like? Did you recognize her?”

  “Oh please, hardly someone who’d travel in my circles. She’s some bleached blond, tall, with boobs—you know the type. Nobody’s daughter, nobody’s wife. Nobody we’d ever meet—nobody.”

  “Tell me what you actually saw—tell me everything.”

  “I told you—they were walking into the Rusty Lantern.”

  “Were they touching or anything like that?”

  “Well, no….”

  “See—it could be a business lunch. How old was she?”

  “I don’t know. Younger than us, that’s for sure. Probably a hooker.”

  “Oh come on. Men don’t take hookers out to lunch.”

  “R.J. is capable of anything, if you ask me. Now listen to me. Reverend Whitehead lost his wife, well a decent amount of time back. I’m going to have him to dinner and you too. When you have someone better in your life it will be easy enough to imagine your life without that jerk.”

  Annabeth pictured the reverend, a large, shapeless man, with limp thinning hair, sloping shoulders, a belly that jiggled when he walked and jowls that twitched when he spoke. “I don’t think religious fanatics are the right type for me.” Humor was her only hope of getting Maggie to change the subject. Otherwise Maggie would gnaw at Annabeth and she didn’t have the strength for that at the moment.

  Maggie shook her head. “Religious fanatic. He’s a minister, not a cult leader.”

  “Besides,” smiled Annabeth, “I don’t think I could ever fall for a man named for a pimple.”

  “You are hopeless. Let’s go for a candy bar.”

  They strolled along outside, passing the small shops that were always so familiar. The town itself was small, one main street, set back a block from the minor highway near the water that led from town to town in Northern Florida. There was Eunice’s Dress Shop where Mother Welner had worked for so many years, its windows displaying several of the embellished polyester creations that she thought so stylish and was forever trying to pawn off on Annabeth. Next was Simon’s Newsstand, then on the corner, Southway Bank where Sally worked, and perpendicular to it, Gleason’s drugstore. Beyond that were other, well-visited places, like Etta’s Knick Knacks and the antique mall with its individually-rented stalls filled with treasures of varying degrees of worth.

  Maggie did not even glance beyond Gleason’s. She darted into the door, saying, “Come on, it’s too hot out here to waste time browsing.”

  Annabeth followed her into the drugstore with its soda fountain at one side. At back was a wide window, behind which Chuck Gleason and his father Charles mixed prescriptions. There were two rows of shelving perpendicular to his window, and they contained the usual drug store items. At the front of the store was a candy counter displaying not the old-fashioned boxes of chocolates that were a drug store fixture in earlier times. Gleason’s was modern. They sold ordinary candy bars, packets of Kleenex, and even boxes of condoms, just as the larger discount chain stores did.

  “Hot fudge sundae,” said Maggie, “Oh, let’s.” She walked to the counter and seated herself on one of the high stools, and Annabeth followed, but there was nobody to wait on them.


  Spotting his customers, Chuck came over. “Hello, ladies. I’m sorry but the ice cream counter is closed.”

  “Closed!” said Maggie, “Why?”

  “My wife is having a baby and I haven’t hired anyone to run it yet. Debbie is usually too busy up front at the cash register. It’s been closed for about a month.”

  “This is ice cream weather! How can you be closed now? Better work harder at finding someone. Put a sign in the window.”

  Chuck nodded at Maggie, and walking behind the counter, looked into the freezer. It was empty. “We need to reorder supplies too.”

  “Congratulations about the baby,” said Annabeth, “That’s wonderful.”

  Chuck smiled, “Oh, yes, thank you.”

  “We’ll just browse a bit and share a candy bar, if that’s okay,” said Annabeth.

  “Well, sure. Debbie, give these ladies a candy bar on the house.”

  “Thanks,” said both women, and without consulting her, Maggie selected a Baby Ruth, neatly removed the wrapper, broke it almost evenly and handed Annabeth the smaller of the two halves.

  “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Maggie, “Lindsey and Peter.” She reached over and hugged Annabeth and raced out the door toward her car so she could drive home in time to babysit her grandchildren as she did most afternoons.

  Annabeth walked along, trying to make sense of Maggie’s revelation. Unfocused, she bumped into a cabinet sitting outside of Etta’s Knick Knack Shop, and then walked through the door, hoping to see Etta’s husband Rum, her carpenter-handyman. “Doesn’t your shop look lovely,” Annabeth commented sincerely, looking around at the various cabinets filled with little figurines. There was also a good selection of simple furniture built by Rum.

  Etta, a solid and motherly looking woman, smiled, pleased at all the compliments. “Rum’s been busy making lots of pieces for the sidewalk sale Labor Day weekend. I was going to call you. I want you to paint some things to sell like you did that child’s rocker you made for Frannie. The kids just love that little rocker.”

  Annabeth smiled in return. “I’m happy they enjoy it. I do love painting on furniture but I could never paint anything to sell. I’m not a professional, not a real artist. I just do it for fun.”

  “Well, you think about it.”

  “Is Rum around? I spotted some termites.”

  After discussing the problem with Rum, Annabeth walked to her car and turned the key, but the engine ground noisily without catching. She turned it again and again, although her mind was on her husband. R.J. needed more excitement, needed to feel more alive. Maybe he was bored by her after all these years. They’d been together since they were kids. Maybe he needed her to look prettier or sexier. On an impulse, Annabeth removed the keys from the ignition and climbed out of the car. Not far from Gleason’s was The Beauty Nook, and it wasn’t busy at all.

  In a matter of moments Annabeth sat in a chair, her hair freshly washed and she tried not to act self-conscious as Velma, the owner-operator, stared at her image.

  “Don’t see many women around here with such long hair.” Velma wore her hair quite short and it had been permed and highlighted. She was stylish looking, in a hard, modern way, but she seemed to be competent.

  “No, I’ve had hair down to my waist since high school. Time I had a change, don’t you think? I’d like a soft look, something feminine and natural, not a ‘do.’”

  Velma dragged the comb smoothly through Annabeth’s hair, then walked around her, viewing her from each side. “Well, since you ask, I think yes, you need to cut it. It’s time. And why don’t we do a rinse to get rid of the gray? It’ll lighten your appearance.”

  Annabeth laughed. “I wouldn’t mind being a little lighter, that’s for sure.” Of medium height and a bit overweight, Annabeth usually thought little of her physical appearance. She wore on most days, skirts that she had sewn in pale cotton prints, soft knit tops, simple sandals or comfortable shoes. Her features were pretty, although she was no great beauty. Her eyes, the best part of her face, were a vivid, sparkling blue. Now she was forced to look at herself and she conceded that what she saw was pretty dull, a middle aged woman with long hair that was usually pulled back, no makeup, ordinary clothes. “Okay,” she said, “Let’s do it.”

  It was amazing how little time it took, and as Annabeth walked down the street away from the salon, she glanced at her reflection in the windows of the shops she passed. Velma had layered her hair and now it swirled around her face as she walked. Although Annabeth protested it was too much, Velma had insisted she buy as a headband a slender scarf that was stiffened with a wire so a small rosette could be twisted into it. It did look pretty, and it was nice to have her hair pulled off her neck. And now when R.J. saw her again….

  This time the car started, Annabeth drove toward home, and pulled into her driveway. Her sister Julie was waiting on the porch, and she waved her arms frantically as the car came to a halt.

  “I’ve been waiting forever,” complained Julie. “I’m busy, you know and I have a lot to do. I can’t just sit on porches.”

  “Did I know you were coming? I don’t remember…”

  “Well no, but I like you to be here when I come over. I count on you.”

  “I’ll give you a key if you want it,” offered Annabeth, placing a motherly hand on Julie’s shoulder. “When did you get here?” Annabeth glanced down at her watch. It was two-fifteen.

  “Oh I don’t know, maybe two o’clock.”

  Annabeth shook her head at Julie’s impatience as she opened the door. “You poor thing, marooned on my porch for fifteen whole minutes. Let me make you a cool drink.” Julie hadn’t even noticed her hair.

  “Would you make me some lemonade? With fresh lemons?”

  “Sure.” Annabeth led the way to the kitchen, and before long they were seated at the small table, drinking lemonade and eating homemade cookies out of an ancient Aunt Jemima cookie jar.

  “I always loved to come home from school when you were baking these and I could have some warm from the oven. Before Dad married Ginger and you ran off with R.J.”

  “I know.” Annabeth smiled at Julie, observing the woman she was today, but seeing more clearly the little girl who had idolized her as the best big sister ever.

  Julie sat quietly for a moment, eating cookies and drinking homemade lemonade. “I heard about R.J. And the divorce.”

  “We’re only separated. He told me he needed time alone but today Maggie said she’d seen him with some girl. I hope I’m not upsetting you talking like this.”“So what if you do divorce him. You can spend more time with me. Volunteer more. Join clubs. Be part of things. Why don’t you volunteer at the hospital or the nursing home? You’re so good with taking care of people.”

  “I love R.J., hon. I don’t want to divorce him. I just hope he snaps out of this and decides he doesn’t want to divorce me.”

  “Do you think that could happen? I would hate to have Bobby leave me.”

  “I’m sure that will never happen. Umm, hon? Have you ever seen anything or heard anything about R.J.? You know a lot of people….”

  “There’s always gossip about R.J. People like to talk and he’s always doing something stupid or trying to fleece someone. But this isn’t exactly news. Oh, my goodness! I’m almost forgetting why I’m here.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Oh gee, I don’t know. Nothing new I guess. I have too much on my mind to pay attention to stupid gossip. You know the Art and Craft Show? I’m co-chairperson, this year. And I need your help!”

  “If you hear anything from now on, will you please tell me?”

  “Okay, sure. Why don’t you just throw yourself into helping me and maybe this mess will blow over.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Oh you know, be a gopher, make calls, help sell shirts.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey—did you finish my dress yet?”

  “It’s almost finished. Want to come upstairs and try it on
?”

  They walked up the stairs and into Annabeth’s bedroom where the sewing machine was always open and from an old trunk, painted with the usual embellishments, Annabeth pulled out a black linen sheath she was sewing for Julie, holding it up for inspection.

  “Gee it looks great. Let me try it on.” Julie tossed off her sundress and pulled the sheath over her head. “Mmm, fits perfectly,” she commented with pleasure, walking toward the mirror.

  “Yes, you look wonderful. Very sophisticated.”

  Julie walked back toward Annabeth, twirling once in a circle like a runway model, then she stopped to peer into Annabeth’s sewing trunk. She pulled out lengths of fabric, some pastel, some print. Toward the very bottom she found a piece of soft rayon floral print, brightened here and there with gold thread. “Oh I love this.”

  “Yes, isn’t it pretty? Laurel sent it to me from New Orleans. I thought I might sew something to wear to Sally’s...”

  Before she could finish her comment, Julie had interrupted. “Oh wouldn’t I love some palazzo pants from this. You could get more from Laurel, couldn’t you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Oh, please!”

  “All right, Julie, palazzo pants.”

  “Did I tell you that Ginger said to come to supper?”

  “No you did not! Tonight?”

  “Yeah, tonight. I told her you probably could make it.”

  “Well, thanks a lot.” Annabeth glanced at her watch. Three-thirty. There would be time. “If I’m going to supper there, I’d better get into the kitchen and bake some of those orange-pecan muffins Dad likes so much.”

  “Oh, I love those too.”

  “Want to stay and help me?”

  “I wish I could but I have to pick up little Bobby from his friend’s. But you could make an extra batch and bring them over tomorrow when you come to house sit for the cable man.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  By five-thirty, Annabeth was at her father’s house, setting the supper table for her stepmother, Ginger, the basket of still-warm muffins on the sideboard. At six, they sat down to eat, three adults at a table that was designed to seat eight people.

  Will Copeland had consumed two of the muffins along with his baked chicken, canned asparagus and mashed potatoes made from a mix.