Come Pour the Wine

by Cynthia Freeman

  Janet decided it was time to back off, not to pursue the subject, to try and mend fences … Life, after all, did have to go on.

  And for the McNeils, it proceeded to, back in the old rhythms … the pages of their family story turning, turning, almost as though moved by the wind.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  NICOLE, THEY REALIZED WITH a shock, was being graduated from eighthgrade and was going on to high school.

  Listening to the principal’s speech, Bill’s thoughts drifted back … It truly seemed that that exquisite little girl had been born only yesterday … one year … two … three … God, how had he misplaced them? In his mind’s eye he was teaching her how to ride a bike, feeling what he’d felt when she fell off and he’d run to help her up and put her back on, and after a while how she’d been able to say, “Look, dad, no hands …” She’d been only five … at six he remembered how she was outswimming him across the pool … On father-and-daughter Girl Scout excursions he was the one who came home with a case of poison oak … And then there was her first piano recital. She was only eight, played the Schubert Serenade. God, he was proud of her …

  A montage, changing color and form. A million pictures to review, to remember, try to put in order. And here she was thirteen … Where had all the time gone? For him too … ? (Janet was left out of these reveries.)

  He glanced over at Jason, now ten, tall and handsome for his age. Bill wanted to shout out to him … Son, don’t let the years go so fast. It was only yesterday when he’d umpired the Little League baseball game. Yesterday when the two of them had gone trout fishing. A year had passed since they went to Colorado, just Jason and himself, going down the rapids, while Janet took Nicole back to Kansas for a week … The years had sped by while he wasn’t even looking. Well, he was looking now. Taking a good look. He was forty and a little frightened. At least he was still hard as a rock, and Janet didn’t seem to notice the gray hair around the temples. And in bed? As good as ever …

  He was brought out of his reverie as the parents got out of their seats and walked to congratulate their children.

  “You were gorgeous, princess.” Bill smiled, kissing her on the cheek and holding her just a little tighter, as though he could prevent time … her … from marching on.

  All the bittersweet memories were gone by the time Bill got home and changed for the children’s swimming party. He was to be the chef, making a big production out of fixing hot dogs and hamburgers. Gallons of soda pop were consumed, there was no hold on the potato chips.

  By six the party was over, and Nicole went to her room to prepare for the evening party at Linda Mason’s.

  When her father saw her come into the den in her long white organdy dress, he just sat staring. Again the years came rushing at him. There was a peculiar sensation at the pit of his stomach, recalling how he’d walked the floors with her when she had colic, changed her diapers, helped ease the pain of cutting her first tooth … the sound of an electric train whistle as it went over the trestle, he could still hear the laughter, she had been only two …

  “How do I look, dad?”

  “Like my beautiful little princess. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  “Oh, thanks, dad, but Mark Weiss is taking me.”

  He was disappointed and slightly annoyed. She and Mark seemed to have been going steady ever since the days when they’d played doctor and nurse … Well, they’d known each other all their lives, and it was a little stupid to think they could be serious about each other at this age.

  “What time will you be home, honey?”

  “I don’t know, dad. About twelve maybe.”

  “No maybe, Nicole. I want you home at the witching hour, or you’ll turn into a pumpkin. Courtesy of old dad.”

  Bill had more than a little difficulty concentrating on bridge that evening. In fact, he did the unpardonable—trumped Nat’s ace.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” Nat exploded. “I had a grand slam going.”

  “I feel like a drink. Sorry …”

  Kit looked at Janet, both knowing that Bill was having a rough time accepting the fact that he was, in his fashion, losing Nicole. Kit thought, things sure as hell reverse themselves. Bill was his mother reincarnated … one word—possessive. He of his daughter, as Violet McNeil had been of her son….

  Later that evening, as Kit and Janet sat having coffee in the kitchen, Kit said, “I think Bill’s a little pushed out of shape.”

  Janet gave her an ironic smile. “A little? It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d just talk about it, but he locks it up inside. He can’t admit that Nicole has become a big girl and he’s having a very difficult time accepting it.”

  Kit laughed. “Ah, sweet irony of life. He’s going through the pains his mother suffered.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, I’m going to let my brood fly. When they’re all gone it will be just Nat and me and I won’t mind a bit. You wind up like you began, with just the two of you. So you enjoy parenthood as long as it lasts, then sit back and enjoy being a couple again.”

  Kit made sense, Janet thought.

  Two days later the four McNeils flew to Europe for their summer vacation.

  By the time they had seen Westminster Abbey, the changing of the guard, the Tower of London, Bill was ready to push on to Paris. The sidewalk cafes, the Champs Élysées, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower were okay, but the French were a pain in the ass, as far as he could see. Rude, arrogant, avaricious.

  Rome was a little better, but he got bored with the cathedrals and museums, and the pasta in Manhattan was better. Besides, he’d seen it a couple of times with his mother and father when he was a kid. The Coliseum hadn’t changed a bit … same pile of rocks.

  Janet knew his lack of enthusiasm had nothing to do with Rome, Paris or London, knew he was going through a rough time accepting the fact that his children were growing up—which was a sure reminder that he was growing no younger himself. Well, what could she do to cheer him up? …

  He was in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when she came out of the bathroom in a sheer black nightgown. The black lace bodice revealed her nipples.

  He sat up in bed, looked at her. “Take that damn thing off. It makes you look like a …”

  She ran back into the bathroom, locked the door and tore the gown from her body, her hands shaking. She had thought, hoped, it might make him feel better, perk him up. Instead it apparently had made him feel impotent.

  As though he needed that damned thing to get a hard-on. And then, gradually, his anger quieted and he berated himself. Sure … she was trying to lift his spirits, and he felt like an ass for the way he’d reacted. He might just as well have slapped her. Right. He felt better.

  He got out of bed and tried opening the door but she had turned the latch. He knocked.

  No answer.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He waited.

  “Janet, please open the door.”

  No response. He went back to bed, wishing he’d have an attack of appendicitis, like when he was a kid at that damn military school….

  Janet took a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. It had been so contrived. No wonder Bill had been offended. Gimmicks, fantasy, sex talk—he had never indicated any interest in them before, and certainly they had never been necessary. His fortieth birthday had been traumatic to him, and in his present state of mind her prank had probably planted some doubt about his appeal for her.

  It never bothered her, but she knew some of the women at the club had more than once made a play for him, showing him by a smile, a gesture, that they wouldn’t at all mind being seduced. In fact, a few had been very obvious. Westchester had its share of husband and wife-swapping. But she would have bet her last dollar that Bill had never cheated on her …

  She washed her face, took a deep breath and came back to the room dressed in a simple white silk nightgown. He looked up at her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I was just teasing, hon
ey … I’m sorry if I offended you—”

  He reached for her hand. “It wasn’t you, Janet. At another time I would have loved it. It’s so out of character—not just what you did but the way I reacted …”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Well, it’s just that I feel sort of … crummy. I mean the kids growing up and all. You know when I really felt it?”

  “When?”

  “The day of Nicole’s graduation. I tried acting like a damned kid myself. Fixing the hamburgers and the hot dogs and putting on a big jolly show about it. But I felt like an old futz, standing there with that apron over my swimming trunks and that crazy chef’s hat. Looking at all those kids swimming, their young bodies … Well, I just felt old, over the hill.”

  “If this will make you feel any better, do you know what your daughter said to me?”

  “What?”

  “That her father was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her whole life. And Linda said to Nicole, ‘If I didn’t like your mother so much I’d make a play for him.’”

  A broad smile, in spite of himself. “She did? You mean Linda, a fourteen-year-old girl?”

  Janet laughed. “Don’t you remember being fourteen? It’s a betwixt and between age, when you don’t know how to handle all your new feelings.”

  “So is forty.”

  “It shouldn’t be, especially when a man looks like you,” she said, winking and tilting her head. “I believe you know what I mean?”

  He knew. Off came the white silk nightgown, and he proceeded to show her—and himself. Before dropping off to sleep, she whispered, “You’re getting better with age. Keep it up.”

  At nine the next morning Jason came into the living room of their suite at the Excelsior Hotel. He found Nicole dressed and ready for the day’s excursion but the door to his parents’ room was closed. That was unusual, he thought, especially when they had planned the day for sightseeing. “Where are the folks?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “How come? We were supposed to go to the Catacombs early.”

  “The Catacombs have been here for thousands of years.”

  “But we won’t. I’m going to wake them up.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Jay.”

  “Why? Everything closes down here at two for their crazy siestas.”

  “I know … that’s why the Italians have so many children.”

  “What’s that got to do with the folks and us?”

  “You know all about the birds and bees? Parents know about it too.”

  “You mean, mother and … ?”

  “That’s what I mean … Okay, baby brother, let’s go down to breakfast, hop a bus and strike out on our own.”

  “They won’t know where we’ve gone.”

  “I’ll leave a note.”

  Janet blinked the sleep from her eyes, then looked at the clock. It was late, already eleven-thirty. She hastily put on her robe and went to the sitting room, expecting to find the children and apologize for spoiling their day, but the room was empty. Then she saw the note propped up against the lamp. “Dear mom and dad, when in Rome do as the Romans do. Molto amore. Will be back at three. Love, Nicole.”

  Janet blushed. She had been the one who’d fought for sex education in the school, she reminded herself. Well, fighting for a principle was one thing, but when it got down to a personal level and your children knew all about what happened behind closed doors …

  She showed the note to Bill.

  He laughed. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Get back into bed, wench.”

  For the rest of the trip Bill was wound up like a mechanical man. He took Janet go-go dancing until the place closed, followed by cappuccinos on the Via Veneto. The next night he took the family to an Italian nightclub. Didn’t understand a word but he laughed nonetheless, caught up in the spirit of it. Go-go-go …

  In Venice, he sent the children off to explore the Doges Palace while he hired an old-fashioned gondola, complete with curtains. They made love as the gondolier broke into a robust “O sole mio.” They laughed over how hackneyed the serenade was, but couldn’t have cared if the gondolier had sung the Italian national anthem. This was the only way to go in Venice. Go-go-go …

  Bill came home feeling, he told himself, a reborn man … He beat everyone at golf, his handball improved with the lessons he took, and he decided Janet and he should drive in to the city more often to go dancing and take in the shows. Suburbia was getting a little boring, a little too predictable. Same thing week after week. Wednesdays, poker. Sundays, swimming and barbecues. Saturday nights, dinner at the country club. Boring. He decided they had to spend more time in the city. Janet went along with it.

  It was the first week after their return and he had asked Janet to meet him in the city for lunch. Lunch turned out to be champagne, caviar and chicken divan, all served in a suite at the St. Regis and followed by four hours in bed.

  It would be great to spend next Saturday night in the same room at the St. Regis, he told her. After they had dined and danced, of course.

  She smiled and agreed, but wondered if this room wasn’t going to become a home away from home. Uneasily, she packed an overnight case and left the children with Kit for the weekend….

  No doubt about it, Bill was reliving his youth … or trying very, very hard to. But time, as they said, stood still for no man. Including Bill McNeil….

  This year Janet gave Bill’s birthday party at the country club. He would have been grateful had she not given him that honor. He was less than enthusiastic about blowing out forty-one candles … it looked like the night Mrs. O’Leary burned down Chicago. But like it or not, birthdays rolled on.

  And so did anniversaries. Difficult to believe, thought Bill … the years were slipping away so fast … so damn fast…. Nineteen had come and gone, and this time he felt a shiver go through him. He’d fought against it, he really had, but try as he might, the idea, the fact, of marriage, of being, as they said, “hitched,” weighed, pulled heavily. But as always he was a man given to overlapping guilts, and to acting them out in a fashion hardly likely to give Janet an opportunity to know and help resolve them. Never go to bed mad, went the conventional wisdom … and so when really angry—the anger turned inward to become guilt—conventional wisdom also prescribed especially dedicated lovemaking … as though the flesh could cure all the ills of the heart … Well, for all his restlessness, Bill was really not a very unconventional man, and so this night he pursued it with a special passion, the better to blind himself—and Janet—to all their misgivings. Love conquers all….

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LOVE CONQUERS ALL? NOT quite. Certainly not Bill’s increasing dislike of the commute between New York and Westchester. Or the overwhelming restlessness he would feel after dinner as he sat in his den trying to read the afternoon newspaper.

  One evening he put down the paper and watched Janet as she worked on her tapestry—which she did almost every night now … it was her unknowing escape, though they didn’t discuss such notions. How could they … ? Good Lord, he thought, it took so little to make her happy. Didn’t she get bored, doing the same things over and over? Even watching her pull that piece of yarn up and down through the tiny holes in the canvas drove him nuts.

  “Janet?”

  “Yes,” her eyes still intent on her needlework.

  “Now that the children are grown up I’d like to move back to the city.”

  She looked up at him, said nothing.

  “What do you say, Janet?”

  What did she say? She shook her head, slowly, startled by his abruptness. “You mean just like that? Nicole is graduating from high school in June. We can’t pull her out of school now, and she’d be pretty upset about being split up from Mark Weiss. And Jason’s on the football team. What about all the friends they grew up with? It wouldn’t really be fair to the kids to uproot them now.”

  “Janet, I wasn’t too keen about moving to the country, but I
did because you wanted it, because it seemed the best place when the kids were young. But it’s different now. And as for Nicole and Mark, I thought we’d gone through that and she wasn’t going to see so much of him. She’s too young to be so serious. The move would be a good thing for her.”

  “Would it really? And us? We’ve made our lives here—”

  “Well, times change and so do people.”

  “Of course they do. I believe that’s called life, and I’m not fighting it …” She thought of adding, Are you? Then thought again and said nothing.

  It was the way they were….

  In the weeks that followed, Bill tried to pretend that everything was fine, that everything would continue as before. The perfect family, living in complete contentment. But the perfect family caught on to the pretense. Conversation around the dinner table became stilted and at times there was total silence.

  It was Nicole who finally brought the issue out in the open. One night as they sat through yet another silent meal, she looked at her father, then at her mother. The tension between them was obvious, and she was beginning to feel anxious about it. To her knowledge her parents never fought … But then, it wasn’t normal for married people not to. They must have kept their arguments behind closed doors. So she could only assume that something serious had happened, something they couldn’t resolve and that was making them act indifferently to each other. And it was getting worse all the time, affecting all of them now. If they were upset, why didn’t they just say so, maybe even talk about it? After all, she was eighteen and Jason was old enough to try to understand. And what he didn’t understand wouldn’t hurt him.

  Finally she spoke up. “I don’t know if the two of you realize how … well … how uncomfortable this is for Jason and me … we’ve been sitting here night after night as if we’re waiting for the roof to cave in. What’s going on?”