We lived there for two years, and all my friends thought it was cool, bowling after school for free. I was sixteen, a high school junior when he sold the bowling alley since it was no longer profitable. We moved to Florida. Dad invested in a dry cleaning business; it was either that or a funeral parlor, and I think Mom made that final decision.
My parents take most things in their stride. They are not afraid of change, of starting over, or of new challenges, and so I was optimistic that they would have an open mind. Sure it’d be a surprise, but a pleasant one, I hoped.
After adding our names to the waitlist, we headed for the bar. “I’ll have a dry martini, on the rocks, double olives, and my lovely wife will have the same.” Dad turned to me, “Lydia, what are you drinking these days?”
“I’d like a diet coke for now. I’m not quite ready to drink.” Maybe in seven or eight months, depending if I’m breastfeeding or not.
“A diet coke, then.” He turned from the bartender and smiled at me. “Your invitation tonight? I’m getting the feeling that you’re giving us some good news?”
Mother squeezed my hand. “Oh, Lydia. I can’t wait another minute. Are you getting married at last?”
“Oh, Mom. Of course not. Jeez, you guys should know me better than that.”
“What is the good news then?” Dad asked.
Mom frowned, “Yes, Lydia. What are you going to tell us if it’s not the wonderful news we so want to hear?”
“I’m pregnant?” I said with a hopeful smile.
“You’re what?” they said in unison.
I looked around and saw the expressions on the patrons’ faces. They didn’t like to be disturbed, and if they were, it better be good. Huh, wait till they hear this!
“I said I’m pregnant.” I spoke up, loud and proud. So there, how do you like them apples?
My father patted my hand. “Congratulations, Lydia my dear. Who is the lucky man to win your heart?”
I didn’t answer.
Mom said, “No marriage? You can’t have a baby and not get married.”
By now we had the undivided attention of several people at the bar. I looked around at their expectant faces. What was I going to tell them? What did everybody want to hear?
I swallowed hard and held my chin high. “He’s the universal soldier, father. My sperm donor is dead.”
My mother downed her drink; my father took one look at my face and did the same.
A guy who looked a lot like Elvis, twenty years older and fifty pounds heavier, and still alive, said, “That’s the blues. Was he in Iraq?”
“No.” I stared at my new shoes and lightly kicked them against the bar. “No, not really.”
The girl next to him looked like a badly aged Priscilla. She asked, “Where, then? Where’d he die, if he’s a soldier and all?”
“Oh, shit.” I looked at all their trustful faces and blurted, “I made it up. The kid has only one parent—that’s me.”
* * *
The enormous platter of stone crabs arrived after our salads, and I was still trying to explain. “Mom, Dad, the man is not important. Focus on what is. The baby. Your grandchild, my first born. This is a moment to cherish. Let’s not confuse the issue. The father is irrelevant. I want nothing from him, least of all marriage. So, just accept it and be there for me. I’m going to need you both.”
My father sucked on a crab and said, “You remember your roots. We are a Christian family here. We believe in the institution of marriage, of raising a family together, of decent, moral beliefs, not of cat-tailing about town having some unidentified man’s kid.”
* * *
I couldn’t sleep and I was too upset to eat breakfast. I didn’t know what to do. Should I abort this baby? Would that make my parents proud? I’ve never disappointed them before, and I couldn’t bear to do so now. God, I loved them. Had I done something to deserve them to love me less?
Days passed and I didn’t hear from them. Everybody else in the family kept calling and said to just give them time, but I was deeply hurt by their pig-headedness. What was the matter with them that they wouldn’t welcome their own grand-child into the world?
On top of that, I was getting sick in the mornings and couldn’t keep food down. I wanted to talk about it with my mother and ask her advice. Every daughter wants to share her worries and her fears about motherhood with the person who brought them into the world, and I was no different.
I’d been thinking a lot lately about the other baby, Kevin’s baby. When he was killed like that, I was in so much pain. Loving him and yet hating him too, for lying to me and using me the way he had. Each day that passed I could feel the love flowing right out of me with every tear I shed. I wanted to hang onto that love; it was the only part of him that I had. He hadn’t belonged to me; I had only borrowed him for a time, and that hurt. I couldn’t go to his funeral. I couldn’t grieve openly. I was nothing. Not legit. I was the other woman—the one who’d tried to steal him away from his wife and his five-year-old. How could he have forgotten to mention her? What kind of man would not mention he had a daughter?
So, the weeks following his death were a nightmare for me. I knew I’d never hear his voice, see his face, feel his body next to mine, not ever again. I couldn’t rant at him and tell him how badly he’d hurt me and ask if he’d loved me. I couldn’t plead with him to leave her, and tell him about our child.
I thought about it for a long, long time and made a crazed decision. I had to get rid of this unborn baby. A whole bottle of Milk of Magnesia later, I was on the toilet all night. I had hoped the fetus would be gone by the morning, but it wasn’t.
The baby continued to thrive inside me. Then, three weeks later, I woke up to a pool of blood.
Now, thirteen years later, I’d been given a second chance. And I fully intend to give this child all the love in the world. If I had to do it alone, without the support of my mom and dad, so be it. This child would never lack for a thing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On the last Thursday of every month a local artist would host an event at the Candy Bar to showcase their talent. It varied from musicians, to dancers, to sculptures and artists, even poetry reading. The artist advertised and invited people that could boost their career. It had really been great for Candy’s business.
This little idea of Candy’s was attracting so much media attention that she had to start selling tickets for the event. Fran had purchased a couple of tickets and had asked me to meet her. One look at my face and she ordered a chocolate martini for herself and a Sprite for me.
“So, have you told him yet?” she asked.
“No. I wanted to wait until it was confirmed by the doctor and my appointment wasn’t until today. I’ll probably call him tomorrow.”
“Do it, Lydia. Bite the bullet. You have to get it over with, and every day it’ll get harder.”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose nothing. Just do it.”
“You sound like a Nike ad.”
She smiled. “You sound like someone who has something to hide.” Her eyes darted to my stomach. “You’re going to have to think up something. Maybe you should just extend your vacation, and then when it’s up, ask for a leave of absence.”
“I will do no such thing. I’ll never make partner if I do that. Besides, Ted’s been calling me lately, asking when I’m going to return to work. He said the workload is overwhelming, and to please get back soon.” He’s worked for me for the past six months and I think of him as an extension of my right arm.
“I’m sure Ted is swamped without you, since you normally do the work of ten people. But as far as you’re concerned, why the rush? The office isn’t going anywhere. And I’ll tell you something. It’s not like it used to be. Everybody has their own agenda, and there’s a lot of backstabbing going on, if you ask me.” Fran sipped her drink through a straw rather noisily, and frowned. “When I first started, the office was small and everyone got along.”
“Yeah. And popc
orn in movies was a quarter.”
Fran chuckled. “Not quite. But like all big corporations and businesses we have our share of troublemakers. It only takes a few people to tilt the apple-cart.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
Fran looked down at her drink. “I’m talking about people like Marcia.”
Marcia. I was getting sick and tired of hearing about that woman. She was good, but she wasn’t as good as me. “Tell me. What has she been up to lately?” I took a sip of my soda.
“From what I gather, her agenda is to see that she makes partner before you do.”
“I know that, and my agenda is to stop her. She can’t fool me with all her calls, feigning concern about my health. So you see, the sooner I get back to work where I can watch her, the better.”
“Your name is still top of the list. We all thought it would have been offered to you instead of Richard last year, especially after you brought in that million dollar case. It’s definitely your turn.”
I smiled at her. She was such a nice, sweet person who really didn’t know how cutthroat other lawyers could be. “I couldn’t believe it either. He’s a good attorney but…”
“He’s “one of the boys.” Fran put her drink aside. “Golf’s every Friday afternoon with Hal and the others.”
“I know. Guess I’ll have to work on my swing.”
She arched a brow. “I think you’ll need to wait a while before you take up golf.”
Not wanting to talk about my life changes anymore, I swiveled around to look at the audience and noticed it was mostly women. “Tonight’s that new modern dance thing Candy wanted to try out, that troupe from the Keys?”
She nodded vehemently. “And you won’t believe who one of the dancers is.”
“Not…?”
“None other. Alexei Perkins, of course.”
“Jeez. Do I really have to see this?”
Her eyes clouded. “I’m sorry, Lydia. We can leave. I didn’t know she was one of the dancers until I saw her in the bathroom putting on make-up. I don’t think she recognized me.” Fran patted her blonde, bobbed hair.
I touched her hand. “No, don’t be silly. I don’t mind, I really don’t. It’ll be fun.”
Curtains had been assembled around the front of the stage, and they slowly began to part. Six scantily dressed women were standing with their backs to each other, holding hands. They started to undulate as the music began. We watched them wither against each other and bend their bodies into some contortionist tangle. Lying in a pool on the floor, we saw other sleek female forms, and they were wrapped in such a way it seemed as though limbs sprouted out of their heads. They slithered to the music.
“I don’t see Alexei up there.”
“She’s sponsoring the show.” Fran shrugged, “Knowing her ego I assumed she’d be the main attraction.”
I touched her arm. “Wait a sec. Isn’t that her over there?”
Fran squinted. “I can’t see without my glasses.”
“It is. I’m sure of it.”
“So? She’s just watching, probably waiting for her turn. I hope she’s got more clothes on then these gals.”
“I wonder who the chick is she’s hanging over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they look very friendly. Very. Not like you and me.” I pursed my lips and made a smooch noise.
“You don’t mean…?” Fran’s mouth dropped open.
“I do.”
“No. She was married.”
“And maybe that’s why she wanted the divorce,” I added with a hint of a smile. “Look, they’re going to the ladies room. I think I need to refresh my lipstick.” I stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute with a full report.”
“Oh, why do you get to have all the fun?” Fran whined good-naturedly.
“Because I have more at stake.” I grinned. “And my eye-sight is better.”
I pushed the door to the ladies room open, not sure what to expect. Or what I thought I would accomplish. But I got more than I bargained for.
Alexei’s back was to me. She had her friend backed into a corner, their arms were around each other, and their lips were locked. They broke apart when they heard my fake cough. Alex dropped her arms and stepped back. Her companion disappeared into a stall.
“Hi,” I said with a sunny smile.
Alex turned around and saw me. Her face went crimson. “Lydia. What are you doing here? I thought you were still on the injured list.”
“Nope.” I looked at her, eyes narrowed, a smirk on my lips. “Officially, I’m on holiday.”
“That’s nice.” She looked down at my leg, letting her long hair cover her face. “How’s the ankle?”
“It’s fine. I only wore the cast a week.”
Alex pulled out a lip-liner, and carefully began to outline her lips. “I would have loved you to handle my divorce, but Kendal Mulvaney is great.”
I drew my own lipstick out and filled in my lips, then gave them a smack. “Kendal is an excellent attorney,” I said. “So glad you didn’t use Marcia.”
“Why? She’s got a good rep. Some of my lady friends have used her.”
“Some of your married friends, like yourself?” I said with just the right amount of hidden meaning.
“Hey, it’s not like that. I know it must have looked a little funny, but we were just practicing something for the play. And then we started to experiment—you know—it’s a girl thing.”
“Oh, it’s a girl thing all right.” My smile grew bigger. “I wonder how long you two have been friends? During your marriage? Does Jed know?”
“He knows everything he has to know.”
“And your children? How will this affect them? Especially if you still plan on moving them out of state.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions about Jed, my children, or my lifestyle.”
I sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s true.”
“I can do any damn thing I please.” She nailed me with her ice-blue eyes and spoke harshly. “Jed will never get the kids.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
The toilet flushed, and out came Alexei’s friend. There was a lot of heat flashing in her baby brown eyes. She was short, perhaps five feet, with a tiny frame, but she stood right up to me.
“Don’t you be threatening her. Alex is a great mother.”
“I never said she wasn’t. But I think the judge should know all the facts before he decides who will be the children’s primary care-giver.”
Alex put her hand on her friend as if to warn her to keep out of it. “Tisha is a dancer too. We express ourselves differently than other people.”
“Oh, pulleze.” I made a face. “Surely you can do better than that? You are grown-up women, not a couple of kids experimenting.” I’d just about had enough of this conversation. “What you do is your own concern.”
Alex snapped. “You will not say a word about this to Jed, you hear me. You are bound by that confidentiality thing, remember?”
I was about to answer when Fran walked in. “Hi. Everything okay in here?”
“Everything is hunky-dory.” I winked at her. “Fran, you remember Alex, and this is Tisha.”
Fran walked over to Tisha and gave her a friendly pat on the butt. “Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing.”
“Keep your hands off her.” Alexei snarled.
“I beg your pardon. Is she taken?” Fran asked sweetly.
Tisha moved a step closer to Alex. “Yes. I am.”
Alex sniffed out trouble. “I’m just telling you to leave her alone.” She eyed me. “I know what you’re up to. Don’t think I don’t.”
The young girl swore. “Damn it, Alex. Tell them I’m your girlfriend. I’m not ashamed. Why should you be?”
I folded my arms under my chest. Waiting.
“Oh, go to hell.” Alex grabbed her partner’s hand and pulled her out the door. It slammed behind them.
Fran an
d I looked at each other, we started to sputter, and then I was laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I agreed to a weekend of babysitting for my brother John, and his wife, Melanie. It was their tenth anniversary, and they wanted a romantic getaway, which I am now sure they richly deserved. I’m one of the world’s greatest aunts, but nobody, I mean nobody, could like these kids.
They were busy tearing the house apart while I was staring down a martini. What could one hurt? I asked myself. Think of my peace of mind. Surely a baby would not like me to be this distressed? Surely, even in this early formative stage, a baby would be able to feel all this tension in me and be upset by it.
I picked up the glass. I swirled it around. I ran my finger around the ring, dipped the tip of my nail into the icy cold vodka, and sucked on my finger. God, I needed this drink. What was worse? Killing my baby with alcohol, or killing the two monsters that were driving me to it? Tough question. The lawyers would have a field day.
I put the glass down and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Toby, Matt, get your behinds down here. Right now. If I have to come looking for you, it will not be a pretty picture. When the police show up, there’ll be blood spilt all over the place.”
I could hear them giggle and then felt a pillow thump against my head. So, the little monsters were in throwing distance. I lowered my voice. “Sweethearts. You dear, darling, little boys. Let’s play a game together. It’s called—be nice to each other. We will not throw things at each other’s heads; we will not destroy walls, floors, furniture, or each other. And if you play this game properly, you will be rewarded.”
“With what?” Toby asked. “It better be good.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, tough like, “it better be real good or we’ll be real bad.” He laughed like a hyena.
I sighed dramatically. “If you don’t want to play, that’s okay with me. I have permission from your parents to do anything I feel is appropriate. Right now, at this very minute, I feel the appropriate thing is to send you both to bed without dinner. That is the mildest suggestion. I have others. Would you care to hear them?”
The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series Page 13
