Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon

by Mary Ellen Courtney

  Victor’s mother was in charge. Chance was passed around, licked by a dog and introduced to their pot bellied pig, Chop. Meggie and Chop were in love. Meggie was already running with the pack, hair on sideways, muddy bare feet. Her flip-flops were lost in the pile by the front door.

  I walked home thinking about everybody discussing Celeste’s divorce. I felt like an outsider. There were always secrets when I was growing up. They leaked out at strange times. My brother and sister were older than me and close in age; it felt like we grew up in different families. I sat down on the back steps and called Karin.

  “I have to call you tonight,” she said. “I’m on the set and my director isn’t buying my blood splatter.”

  “You’ve never been good at blood splatters,” I said.

  “Better than you. Wish you were here. Gotta run.”

  I went back to thinking about Jon and Celeste talking, making decisions together, even if it was about their daughter. Chana was old enough to go clubbing. I didn’t understand the decision to put off telling her about the divorce. I really didn’t understand not telling me.

  When I walked in the door, our house felt foreign. The books pushed to the edges of the shelves had sterilized away years of mementos. It had taken me years to piece together a picture of my family. To tumble fragments and feathers, until I felt comfortable with the story. Jon called, I didn’t answer.

  I put Chance in his basket, and then pushed the books back and put my egg-shaped kaleidoscope, filled with shells and shards of colored glass, back on the edge by the window. Penny always sorted according to usage, washcloths with washcloths, hand towels with hand towels. I sorted by color. I knew the spices and CDs were alphabetized; that wouldn’t last long. I pulled everything out of the linen cupboard and rearranged things the way I like them.

  I wanted to talk to Karin, my touchstone. We’d worked together on television shows. She was married to Oscar, a black stuntman. They were dealing with Oscar’s infidelity when Jon and I met. She didn’t talk about it much. Somehow they’d worked it out and had even gotten married before their two kids started middle school.

  Kaia brought Meggie home. She snuggled Chance for a few minutes and left him smelling like gardenias.

  I put Meggie in the bathtub and left the door open so I could hear her while I started dinner. I set the table for three. Jon left a message; one of the bartenders hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t be home until almost 3:00 a.m. I took away a place setting.

  We ate dinner and Meggie was asleep when Jon called.

  “How are things at my house?” he asked.

  “Quiet,” I said.

  “What did you do today?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Meggie seems better with Chance.”

  “She’s going to be fine,” he said.

  “You’re the one with all the experience.”

  “Experience trying to kill my brother?”

  “Raising kids.”

  He was quiet on the other end.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Jon. What are we doing?”

  We were both quiet. I could hear laughter, a blender, music. If he listened hard he might hear wind chimes or the sound of his son making sleepy sounds while his younger daughter tossed around in her dreams.

  “I should go back to work,” I said.

  “No.”

  “It’s not your decision,” I said.

  “We’re not going to do this right now,” he said.

  “We probably shouldn’t have gotten married so soon. We hardly knew each other.”

  “Okay. I’m at work. I’ll see you later.”

  “I’m going to sleep,” I said.

  “I’ll see you in the morning. Do not run away before then.”

  He hung up.

  I curled up around Chance and fell asleep. I woke up to Jon laying next to us, watching us sleep.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you and your wife have been talking?”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I didn’t tell you because her timing sucked, as usual. Calling the day he was born. We talked once.”

  “Now your parents think you lied to me. That’s nice.”

  “No they don’t,” he said. “Her divorce doesn’t have anything to do with us, H. I didn’t want her drama near you and the babies.”

  “Her drama calling caused us to blow Meggie apart. That infuriates me. That’s about us. I feel like you have two wives.”

  “You knew I’d been married. You have an ex-husband. He’s out there somewhere.”

  “I have no connection to my ex-husband.”

  “I have one wife, one family. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “I feel like an outsider in my own home.”

  “I don’t know what more to do. Chana loves you as much as she loves me.”

  “And I love her,” I said.

  Meggie wandered in and climbed in bed between us. She snuggled up to Jon and he kissed her curls. Then she got out of bed and wandered out again.

  “I’m going to cancel my appointment,” he said.

  “What appointment?”

  “I was getting fixed today, but it can wait.”

  “Why? You want more children to annoy your wife?”

  “Ex-wife. No. I don’t want to leave you like this today.”

  “You afraid I’ll run off with your children?” I asked.

  “Is that a possibility?”

  “You’re the one who brought up running away,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean it literally.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “Disappearing into busy busy,” he said.

  “I disappear into busy busy?” I asked.

  “Feels that way sometimes, yeah. You break the connection. You get busy.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “I can drive myself. I don’t plan to have the drugs.”

  “Are you nuts? Of course you’ll have the drugs.”

  “They said it would be about a week before I’m okay,” he said.

  “I read in a chat room that you won’t be shooting blanks for a while,” I said.

  “You were chatting about it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I lurk.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Does having live ammo mean we have to wait months?”

  “No. It means we have to wait a week.”

  “Oh man. You and those big jugs. I might be ready in less than a week.”

  “Did you just call them jugs? Seriously? Like that funky magazine?”

  “How do you know about that magazine?” he asked.

  “I used one as a prop for a sleazy housewife peeper. How do you know about it?”

  “Eli left one in the storeroom.”

  “The angelic kid studying humpbacks was in the storeroom with Juggs?”

  “He likes land mammals too.”

  “Well, you have to share these jugs.”

  “No problem. I think that was the idea in the centerfold.”

  “Not in front of the baby, Jon.”

  Meggie came back in with her stuffed whale and took back her spot between us. Once again, she’d blinked and we’d made a plan.

  ∞

  A few hours later Jon was powering Advil and sitting on ice. Poor guy. It seemed mildly unnatural but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want anything to throw him off when the time came. The idea of a freebie every time, everywhere, made me feel like ringing the liberty bell.

  He could hold Chance, his last creation, but he had to keep Meggie out of his lap, which didn’t make him popular with the little bug. I babied him with cold Luna’s and spicy poke. Victor dropped over to give him a hard time and to bring us one of his new desserts to try. Man could bake.

  Victor took Meggie home with him to spend the night with their pack. She rode on his shoulders, held onto his ears, and talked nonstop.

  We went to bed early. I kissed Jon with the first real
kiss since Chance was born. Funny how that works. Well, funny for me, uncomfortable for him.

  ∞

  Jon moved around the house gingerly the next morning, but went to work for a while in the afternoon to keep up appearances. Meggie spent the afternoon playing on the lanai, and then talked me through fixing dinner and sat on the kitchen counter and licked the gingerbread batter off beaters. I was getting all my energy back. Jon came home and went in for a nap with Chance. Karin called.

  “Sorry I didn’t get back to you,” she said. “This job is eating my brain.”

  “It’s okay. We’re just drifting along in post baby land right now. Where’s Oscar?”

  “He’s here. Still on the cop show. They always find a reason to chase a black guy. How’s Jon? That’s going to be fun. Even your car will be safe.”

  “Would Oscar do it?”

  “He’s afraid he couldn’t get it up anymore,” she said.

  “I kissed him last night and it still worked.”

  “Kiss it to make it all better?” she asked.

  “On the lips.”

  “Poor Jon. He’s still so in love with you.”

  “I wouldn’t call a hard on love. Celeste is getting a divorce. That’s why she’s been calling him.”

  “What does she want?”

  “Who knows? To remind him that she didn’t have more kids for starters.”

  “What’s that got to do with him?”

  “Nothing. But who else is she going to call?”

  “Too bad she has such a sexy name.”

  “Celeste is sexy?”

  “Don’t you think?”

  “I guess. I don’t like that he didn’t tell me. I was the last to know.”

  “She needs to let it go. She’s like what, forty-five? Why doesn’t she grind her soon to be ex? It’s his fault she doesn’t have a litter.”

  “She probably has.”

  “Too bad,” she said.

  “You feel sorry for her?” I asked.

  “Kinda. Be hard to want kids that much and not have them.”

  “She didn’t have any problem letting Jon take Chana. She sounds like my mother, stuck in the fantasy.”

  “She’s not the brightest bulb,” she said. “How is Grandma Coochie?”

  “She’s girding her loins for Arthur with his rebuilt heart and Viagra. Anna says it’s causing problems in marriages. Great for her business though. One of those unintended consequences.”

  “Too bad Eric’s not a doctor, they could make a killing double teaming couples. You coming for the wedding?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it, Jon can’t get away. I’m getting a little antsy, I’ll see how I feel in a few weeks.”

  We signed off as Jon limped out of the bedroom and handed me Chance.

  ∞

  The week went by in baby brain mode for me, recovery mode for Jon. Meggie went to preschool in the mornings and I took a long walk on the beach with Chance before I picked her up for lunch. Jon came home in the middle of the day so I could go float around for a while. He put big check marks on the kitchen calendar. I had a pedicure and shaved my legs.

  ∞

  We were finishing dinner a week later when Victor and Kaia came over to take the kids for a few hours. Kaia scooped up Chance.

  “I love having you in my arms, keiki,” she said. “He looks just like you, Hannah. Boys always look like their mothers.”

  Victor picked up Meggie and they were gone. Jon looked at me and smiled.

  “So?” he said.

  “Jon, do you love me?”

  “I love you.”

  “Really?”

  “Hannah, we don’t have that much time.”

  “Someone said that to me once. Let’s not waste time with talk.”

  “Who?” asked Jon.

  “Nobody,” I said.

  I could see him draining away from me. He recognized it for what it was, the words of another man. We had never sat around telling war stories from past relationships. He went in the kitchen, opened a beer and sat on the lanai. I joined him, oddly nervous about where this was going.

  “Nice night. Supposed to be meteor showers tonight,” he said. “It’s clear now.”

  “Jon, I didn’t mean anything by that. I don’t know why I said it.”

  “Don’t you, Hannah? I can’t make her disappear. For Chana’s sake, I don’t want her to disappear.”

  “I don’t want her to disappear either,” I said.

  We sat in the quiet.

  “So, you want to tell me about him?” he asked. “Make it even.”

  “No.”

  “This the guy?” he asked.

  “Which guy?”

  “Yeah. That felt good. The guy guy as your mother would say. The one you tossed it for.”

  “It was never right. I would never have met you,” I said.

  “I just don’t get it, why it doesn’t sink in,” he said. “I think I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I cared about Celeste once. We had Chana. We were young. She’s obviously got something going on. I don’t want it to rub off on Chana. It’s so different.”

  “Do I sound like I’m sixteen?”

  “You just sound like you.”

  “I get stuck.”

  “I know. I don’t know how to help you. Or us.”

  “Come to bed,” I said.

  “I’m going to get the kids,” he said.

  “I don’t want to get the kids. I want to make love.”

  “Let’s not make things worse by going to bed with ghosts just because we have a sitter.”

  “Ghosts?”

  “You aren’t thinking about him?”

  “No. Are you thinking about her?”

  “I never think about her, Hannah. That’s the point. I think about you.”

  “Or strangers,” I said.

  “I should never have told you that,” he said. “I’m not going there tonight.”

  We sat. We didn’t see any meteors, but we saw a single falling star.

  “Every time I see a falling star I think of Margaret and India,” I said.

  Jon reached out and took my hand.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s okay. Come on. I’ve been thinking about this for a week.”

  We made love like we were getting to know each other again. It was slow, and sweet, and felt like our skin never lost contact. I was rounder and softer in places since having Chance. It would go away in a few months, but for now it was all softness. After Meggie I’d felt self-conscious about it until I realized Jon didn’t care. He ran his tongue around my nipple. All the belly muscles and nerves that had pushed Chance out a month ago, changed back to inviting Jon in. The first time we made love, he said I sang “Great Gig In The Sky.” He could still do that to me.

  ∞

  We turned on a few low lights in the house and sat on the lanai to watch for star showers while Richie Havens sang “Here Comes The Sun.” Mom sent a YouTube video when we found out a son was coming. My dad had been the hippie, but Mom had her moments.

  We started feeling guilty about leaving the kids, so Jon walked over to get them while I got Meggie’s bath started. The whole family felt calm and content. Jon climbed into bed just as I was putting Chance down.

  He gathered me to him and we made love again, quiet and up close. Somewhere in the recesses of his one-month old brain, Chance had enough sense not to complain. We fell asleep wrapped around each other.

  ∞

  Jon got up early for work. He was in the process of changing out light fixtures to save on power bills. They did a few each morning before opening for lunch. I’d picked new models that didn’t require patching and painting. All his restaurants were doing it.

  I decided it was time to call Aunt Asp. I hadn’t talked to her since sending a thank you note for the $500 check they’d sent as a baby gift.

  Jon had opened her card the day it came and asked,
“Does she think we need money?”

  They hated each other. He had a Superman-like power to deflect her venom, which annoyed the hell out of her and made her wary. She could still sink her fangs into me, but with his power around I felt more grown up. 2700 miles of ocean had emboldened her.

  “Consider us lucky,” I said. “I can’t imagine what she’d buy.”

  “Fifty dollars says go buy something, I can’t be bothered,” he said. “Five hundred says you need money.”

  “You know she did it just to get to you. We’ll send it back.”

  “Let me think about it,” he said.

  He came back a few days later with a plan to spend $50 on something for Chance, and give $450 to the animal shelter in Chance’s name, dedicated to feral cat and kitten rescue. For $450 they’d put up a small plaque.

  He wrote a note in his crisp food order printing, thanking Asp for the opportunity to teach Chance philanthropy. I bought Chance a fresh snugli in a blue Hawaiian print and Jon took a picture of us on the beach. Then he stopped by the shelter and took a picture of the plaque. Meggie painted her version of a cat, all ears and whiskers towering over a palm tree. I glued it to a card with a thank you note from Chance and all the wild felines, and enclosed the photos with Jon’s note. It was a thoughtful package from the whole family. I hadn’t heard from her since. I thought my brother would choke to death laughing when I told him. He said it sounded exactly like something our father would do. I punched in her number. She must have caller ID.

  “Hello, Hannah,” she said. “I wondered when I’d hear from you.”

  “We’re just getting back to normal here after the birth. Chance has been sleeping through the night since day one, so that has been nice. We thought Margaret might have a problem with him, but she’s fine now. She’s in preschool most mornings. Jon’s busy with the restaurants.”

  I blabbered on to fill the vacuum that always formed when she answered the phone.

  “That’s nice,” she said.

  “So how are you?”

  “Very well. We’re painting and having the patio beds planted to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”