It’d been years since they’d been to a game together. Once he recuperated from whatever this was, and she’d gotten past her divorce hogwash, he’d look into getting tickets for them. Yankees–Red Sox for sure. That would make her happy. At least for four, maybe five, hours.
Time to move on. As he got up, he felt a twinge in his back. A familiar, yet unwelcome pain. He shrugged it off as the result of lying in a hospital bed for days. Or maybe it was just the aftermath of his romp with Amelia. He preferred to think it was the latter, not the former. With that, his dick took notice. Hold that thought, adjusting himself, hoping no one saw.
Next stop. The chapel. That shouldn’t take long. Hunger pangs shot from his gut to his brain. Maybe he should’ve taken one of those candies.
Celia was right again. The chapel looked like a mini-cathedral, dark, almost medieval, with four electric candles glowing, and two stained glass windows, allowing a slight ray of sunlight to form two paths across the hardwood floor. Probably designed with a nod toward the strong Catholic influence of all the Irish and Italian families in Boston.
He was surprised, but relieved, the chapel was empty so he could sit wherever he wanted. There were six rows of two pews that could seat three across in each. Thirty-six souls, he calculated. Mike sat his soul in the front row on the left side, closest to the altar.
Growing up Italian meant Catholic schools, first communion, confirmation, spending every single day of Holy Week in church. He was old enough to remember the masses being said in Latin. Not anymore. Another tradition upside down. He kind of liked the Latin. Since Italian was the language spoken at home, he’d developed an ear for foreign languages early in life. Becoming an Italian professor was not too much of a stretch for him. The path of least resistance.
Mike never became a regular churchgoer. Except when he was fifteen and went to Camp Harvest Moon where he lost his virginity.
“It might be good for you,” his mother said, insisting every teenage boy in Boston should get out of the city and into the hills and forests of New Hampshire for two weeks. “It’ll make a man out of you,” he recalled her saying. It sure did.
Camp Harvest Moon was not one of those specialty camps that focused on one thing, like dramatic arts, music, or boating. He’d tried and failed at baseball in high school, so a baseball camp was out of the question. His only option was a run-of-the-mill, all-boys outdoor camp that just happened to have a Girl Scout camp across the lake.
He and three of his newfound buddies salivated at the thought of scouting the girls. You’d have thought the camps would’ve organized a picnic, or some kind of get-to-know-you event. But no. The girls were off-limits. Except for church services.
On the second day of camp, the counselors rounded up as many boys as would fit in their small yellow bus they’d bought second-hand from a school, whose name you could see sticking out behind the cheap plastic sign tacked onto the bus with gray duct tape. Didn’t matter if they were Catholic, Methodist, Jewish—the campers would go to church whether they liked it or not. Mike went willingly. Anything to get out of climbing trees or tying knots.
From that day forward, Mike believed in miracles. Lo-and-behold, the Girl Scouts had been rounded up as well, whether they liked it or not, and sat holier than thou in their pea-green shirts, shorts, and sashes in the pews on the right side of the church, praying to be saved. And Mike and his buddies were ready and willing to accommodate. The boys and the girls somehow convinced their counselors to let them sit together during the daily church services for the rest of the camps’ sessions and to have a joint campfire on the last night hosted by Camp Harvest Moon.
It didn’t take long. On the third day of church, Mike met a girl that made his heart stop, or at least made him hard. Gillian. You never forget your first. He’d picked her out of the twenty-five prospects on that first day. She sat across the aisle from him, two pews up. Her long platinum-blond hair was a stark contrast to her dull uniform, and when she turned to look at him, her smile could make flashlights obsolete. She probably sensed his stare, he’d thought. Never shy, Mike returned her smile to secure the deal.
That started a ten-day summer romance. They sat next to each other and not-so-accidentally brushed their hormonal fingers along each other’s outer thighs. On the last day of church when they passed the sign of peace, Mike kissed her on the lips with no one noticing. That night, they snuck away from the campfire and found religion.
When he returned from camp, he told his mother he placed a high value on church attendance. That didn’t last long. He fell into the holiday habit of going to church twice a year, Easter and Christmas. Nevertheless, Mike knew how to pray.
He looked around the chapel. A young couple, teenagers, had come in and sat in the last pew on the opposite side—murmuring, giggling. Probably not there to pray.
But since he was there and it was Easter, he might as well pray. As he knelt and bowed his head, Mike felt that twinge in his back again. Good time as any to have a talk with God. Automatically, he recited The Lord’s Prayer to himself. His brain tripped over “Lead us not into temptation,” but he kept going until the end.
“Deliver us from evil. Amen,” he said aloud but not loudly.
Next up was an old Catholic favorite. Mike looked at the statue of the Virgin sitting on the altar not more than ten feet from him.
“Grant me strength, dear Mary, to convince Kassie to give up her cockamamie ideas and help me face whatever the good doctor says tomorrow.” Not confident on either front, Mike continued to ask for divine intervention. “Hail Mary . . .”
As he recited the ending, “Now and at the hour of our death. Amen,” he was dumbstruck by the last words of each prayer. Evil and death. Aren’t there any happy endings?
He raised his head and looked smack dab at Celia’s bosom.
“I thought I’d find you here. You have a visitor.”
23
Reality Bites
“Can you find your way back, Mr. Ricci? I’m heading over to the cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, ya know.”
Mike assured Celia he was good. And he was. She hadn’t said who the visitor was, nor did he ask. He assumed it was Kassie. She must’ve had a change of heart. It’s Easter after all. Maybe they could resurrect their marriage. He was game.
“Happy Easter,” Mike greeted a family on the way to the elevator. The fellow carried a huge basket of fruit so big it blocked his sight, almost bumping into Mike. A little boy hung on tight to a yellow teddy bear. “Excuse me,” Mike said, scooting around them and patting the boy on the head.
Mike collided with a short elderly woman wearing a full-length tweed coat with a pink chrysanthemum in her lapel. He almost knocked her and her walker over as she tried to maneuver into the elevator while balancing an overstuffed green Whole Foods tote bag slung over her shoulder.
“Do you need help?” Mike said as he rescued the tote bag before it crashed to the floor. His nose hairs tickled. The smell of garlic almost made him sneeze.
She snickered, taking him up on his offer as she shoved the walker toward him. “Where you going in your jammies, sonny? Escaping?”
“No, ma’am. On my own Easter parade, I guess. Have a nice day now, ya hear?” Mike said as he got off the first stop.
The super-sized bunny still held court near the elevator but looked a little haggard as he’d slumped to one side. His bow was untied and someone had put a blue Red Sox cap over one ear.
“Having a hard day, dude?” Mike petted the stuffed animal and shifted his attention to the wicker basket. Oh, goodie! It wasn’t empty, yet. Mike snuck one miniature Mr. Goodbar and then dove in for a second. Instead he pulled out dark chocolate. Damn it. Not his favorite. He’d take it for Kassie. A peace offering.
“Ya know that guy loitering near the elevator?” Mike said to a nurse as he passed her station. “He needs a little TLC. I think he’s seen better days.”
“Sounds like you’re in better spirits, Mr. Ricci. Walk seems to have done
you some good. You have a visitor,” she said her eyes pointing down the hall.
“I know.” Mike beamed and quickened his shuffle.
“Hey, buddy, how ya doin’?” Bill stood up as Mike entered his room. “Thought you might like company.”
“Oh, Bill, it’s you.”
“That’s a fine howdy doody.”
“Sorry. Thanks for coming. I thought you were Kassie. Don’t stand up.” Mike motioned Bill and dragged a metal chair from the head of his bed nearer to Bill, holding onto it to maintain his balance.
“I met one of the pretty young things that’s been taking care of you. Nice to have eye candy while you’re here. Celia, right?”
“Uh, huh. Pretty. Young. Cockeyed optimist.”
“What?”
“Never mind. You had to have been there.”
Mike pulled the two candies out of his pocket, gave the dark chocolate to Bill, and unwrapped his. “So how have you been? Did your sister arrive?”
“Yes, she did. Friday. Question is, how are you? What’s going on?”
“It’s just my kidney thing again. Acting up. I had an incident Thursday night. Ended up here for observation and more tests. Home tomorrow I hope.”
Bill asked if it was the same issue he’d had a year ago.
Mike said yes, but omitted the vomiting. Or the swollen feet. Or how scared he was.
“I’m glad you stopped by. With the holiday and your sister here, I thought maybe you’d call.”
“Nancy’s up to her elbows in the kitchen. She kicked me out. We’re not eating until five-ish. And I wanted to see firsthand how you were.”
“I’ll live. Just don’t know how long.”
“None of us do.” They laughed.
Mike grabbed one of the folders Kassie had brought him the day before. Résumés.
“Obviously I won’t be in the office tomorrow. It’s possible I’ll take the whole week off. Would you mind?”
“Hell, no. Go for it. I’ve got the office covered. You’re gonna need to rest from resting for three days.”
“We have a new contractor who’s supposed to start this week. I was going to meet him Wednesday. Could you do it?”
“Sure thing. We’ll need him to start right away if you’re—”
“Oh, I’ll be back. Just need a little more time. I need him whether I’m in the office or not. Remember, I signed those two big projects with Southshore Hospital.”
“Hope he’s got a quick learning curve.”
“Here’s an extra copy of his paperwork. Call him. Apologize for me. Tell him how sorry I am. I couldn’t help it. Wasn’t my plan.”
“Christopher Gaines. Humph. Sounds like a movie star. From California, eh? There you go. I rest my case. Wonder why he wants to work out here?”
“He comes highly recommended. The agency said he took a sabbatical from his job out there until the end of the summer. Perhaps he has family here, personal affairs to attend to.”
“Maybe he’s a Red Sox fan.” Bill chuckled.
“I think I screwed up Friday’s game for Kassie.”
“How’s that?”
Mike explained how she was supposed to attend the game with her company, in their box. Instead she was at the hospital with him.
“Hey, Bill, can I be honest with you?”
Bill got up and sat on Mike’s bed.
“Sure, aren’t you always? We’ve been friends forever. What do the kids say nowadays, BFF? Don’t know where they got that from, sounds like biff or barf to me.”
Mike gazed at the floor. “Kassie wants a divorce.”
“What? What did you say?”
“She wants a divorce.”
“No, shit. Why? When did you find this out?”
“Yesterday.”
“Yesterday? She asked you for a divorce while you’re here. In the hospital? Unbelievable. What a bitch. Sorry.”
Mike rubbed his forehead. “Whatever. She was pretty stewed when she left here last night. She thinks I’m having an affair.”
“That’s no reason for a divorce. Take it from me. Wait. Are you having an affair? Tell me you are.”
“Well, I did, but not with whom she thinks I did. Maybe I still am.”
“Mike, you’re not making any sense. Maybe you need to get back in bed. Should I get the nurse?”
Mike told him how Kassie found a letter from his old college sweetheart and jumped to the conclusion he was having an affair.
“How does an old love letter equate to an affair?”
“Not so old a letter. From last December. That’s not all. Kassie doesn’t know we’ve been corresponding for years. Phone, email, texts, letters.”
“That’s still not an affair. Infatuation maybe. Hot memories perhaps, but not an affair. No reason to get a divorce,” Bill ranted, pacing the length of the bed, turning around and ranting some more. “You know all I’ve done! Jesus! Nancy and I aren’t getting a divorce. Hope it’s not contagious.”
“The thing is Karen, that’s her name, Karen. She and I are just good friends. We have a lot in common. History. How am I going to explain that to Kassie? And, as sure as the sun rises in the morning, I can’t tell her about Amelia.” Mike shook his head. “She’ll definitely divorce me if she finds out about her.”
“Whoa! Who’s Amelia and why haven’t you told me about her before now? You sly fox!”
“She’s our maid’s daughter.”
“What? You’re robbing the cradle?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. She’s thirtysomething, I think. Maybe forty. Not sure. Doesn’t matter.”
Rubbing his hands together and through his hair, Mike gave Bill the highlights of the Amelia story up to and including the romp the day before.
“You got laid here? In the hospital? Man, you are my hero.” Bill bowed and performed a petite flourish with his hand.
They agreed he shouldn’t tell Kassie about Amelia ever, ever, ever. In their opinion, wives had a hard enough time accepting their husbands fooling around. Let alone with a younger woman. Let alone the maid’s daughter.
“When I heard I had a visitor, I expected Kassie. I want to explain things before tomorrow. Before we meet with the doctor.”
“What do you think he’ll say?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully good news, but I’m bracing for the worst. I may need your help at the office for longer than this week.”
“Whatever I can do. I’m here for you, Mike.” Bill proceeded to pace up and down Mike’s room. His arms behind his back. Mike sensed Bill had something to say. He was right.
Bill sat on the edge of the bed facing Mike who had moved to the armchair Bill had occupied.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” Bill said. “Didn’t think I’d have to. But under the circumstances.”
“Oh, gee, that’s never a good opening.”
“Well, no, I guess not. But I think you should know. I saw Kassie the other day. Friday. After I picked my sister up at Logan, I took her to the Westin. That’s where she’s staying. With the boys home, we have no extra room. And she wants her privacy and bathroom. You know how women are.”
“Get on with it, Bill. You saw Kassie Friday. Where?”
“After Maureen checked in, we were having a drink in the little bar there at the Westin. You know the one, right off the lobby. We went there once with those folks from St. Louis, remember?”
“Yes, Bill, I remember. You got shit-faced and tried to pick up the bartender. Go on.”
“I did? Anyway, as I was taking a swig of my beer, I look out into the lobby and who do I see? Kassie. There she was strolling in with her head in the air pulling her roller bag and carrying a couple of other bags, too.”
“You sure it was her.”
“Absolutely. She looked good, man.”
“She always does. So then what happened?”
“She stopped at the front desk. The fellow handed her something, and she headed straight for the elevators.”
“What did he
hand her?” Mike tried to process what he was hearing.
“Well, I wasn’t close enough to see. But a key I’d guess. Their interaction was quick. It didn’t look like she was checking in. She didn’t give him anything like a credit card or anything. She grabbed something and walked off to the elevator.”
“Did she see you?”
“No.”
“When did you say this was?”
“Friday.”
“But she didn’t tell me she wanted a divorce until yesterday. She found Karen’s letter at the office yesterday. Saturday. So why was she checking into the Westin on Friday? With suitcases?”
“Remember when I told you about Stella? Maybe Kassie has a Stella. Or in your case, an Amelia.”
“She’s not a lesbian. That I know for sure.”
“No, Mike. Don’t be a jerk. Get your head out of the sand. Maybe she’s been fooling around, too, just like you.”
Bill sat in the metal chair next to him and neither spoke. Mike’s right knee quivered. His forehead dampened.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone there. When you told me about your lady friends, I just thought there’s no need for you to feel guilty. What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.”
“I think you’ve got that backwards.” Mike grinned and took a deep breath.
“I know, just wanted to make you laugh.”
“Well, you did. And I’m fine. I’ll work things out with Kassie somehow. And I’ll take care of my kidneys and be back at work before you know it.”
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“What’s in the box?”
“Oh here. I swung over to Mike’s Pastry in the North End. Thought you’d like some cannolis. I got the miniatures if that’s okay?”
“It’s okay, Bill. It’s all okay. Now get the hell out of here. And let’s not forget Mr. Gaines.”
What's Not Said Page 14
