by Diane Munier
He doesn't even hear me. He's taken the bundle into his arms, and he's already kissing the puppy's nose. Love at first sight.
Now Elaine is in the doorway. "Oh my," she says seeing the squirmer in Juney's arms. "That was quick."
Marcus is close, and he kisses her cheek. "Now you know why we rushed the wedding," he says.
"Meet Stuart," I say, and I really like Elaine cause she gets my reference right away. And so does her son and you know I like him already.
We go inside and right away I notice the good smells. The living room looks…better. She's been cleaning. But somehow the board is replaced with a real window and with the dog excitement we hadn't noticed from the outside.
"How…?" Marcus starts to ask.
Elaine smiles. "Don knew your insurance man."
"Pulled out the big guns, huh?" Marcus says. "On a Sunday, Mom? That's impressive."
So we are grateful, and Marcus examines the work, and it's great.
"Wait a minute…that's a new…." I'm pointing at a coffee table that wasn't there before.
"Merry Christmas from Don and me," she says.
We thank her appropriately. It's really cool, on wheels, an old railway car knock-off, she explains.
We go in the kitchen, and she's made lunch, and it's also sparkling in here. "Sit down and I'll serve you," she offers.
Marcus says, "Mom, no. You've done enough. Sit down with us."
Well, she has to be going. Don and she…have a thing. But she'll see us, Christmas Eve? And I look at Marcus, and he says, "Well, Artie has a blowout every year…but with his leg…."
"Oh bring Artie, then," Elaine says. "If he can get around. If you need to stay with him…I understand."
"We'll call you and let you know," Marcus says, and I feel the hook coming out of my back because I have spent every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Dad and I don't know what to say until I speak to him.
She takes it well. I can see she's a little thrown, but she's careful not to have a tantrum or anything, and I like her more than ever. But she has Don, and I think Dad has Teresa, and that's what I have to get figured out—how much he has Teresa.
So we thank her again, and when she's gone, Marcus closes the door, and I'm behind him, and he turns and scoops me up. I think he likes carrying me places. He growls like a madman and takes me into the bedroom, and we both stop there.
"Heh," Marcus says noticing the new bedding and matching drapes. Both a deep red brocade. Nothing I would have picked in a million years, but I have to admit, they are show-stoppers.
"Mom," he says again.
"Wow," I say.
"Do you mind?" he asks.
"No," I say. "I…have to get used to it, but your mom is pretty great."
He kisses me then. "If you want something else we'll change this."
"No," I say thinking it's a little 'Queen of England,' but I can get used to it.
Then he throws me on the bed and lands over me, and we're laughing, and Juney is there, still holding the puppy, only it's out of the stocking now, on top of it, and he's saying, "He stuck his whole head in his water bowl. He's so funny."
Marcus is beside me, and he is grinning at Juney, then grinning at me. He kisses me right there, and that drives Juney out of the room with a big sound of disgust. "Get used to it kid," he calls after him, then he flattens me against the royal red and kisses the daylights out of me. When he lifts his face, he says, "Let's eat."
Chapter 59
Marcus has to return to work at four Monday evening. I watch him change into his uniform, and it's like getting to look backstage at a theater, or underground at Disney World, or behind the altar of a Catholic church, looking into the magic…only sexual…sensual…his hands and fingers, he's proud while I watch…he knows I want him. He's my husband.
And he wants me…only me…excluding all the rest. I have stood with him in that dress, promised him everything. Meant it, didn't go lightly, went in trembling…until I wasn't.
So I lean on our bedroom wall, my hands behind, nailed to the wall by my own behind. He lets me watch him tuck and buckle, and strap on and zip up, each movement, each graceful move, and sound...he keeps looking at me, and he seems pretty amused, happy.
I move toward him slow where he stands by the dresser, tucking his wallet into his back pocket, but his eyes, crisp in this dim light, and that grin….
We kiss and kiss and kiss. Lord. When he opens the bedroom door, I need a minute to snap out of it.
So a few minutes later, he's at the table with Juney and a bowl of Cheerios and Juney is talking about how he helped Grandma after the wedding and they put the stockings up, and Elaine got one for Bedilia, Juney says.
I hadn't noticed that. Elaine thinks of everything because I can't imagine not hanging my old one next to Artie's. At least not this first year. I couldn't leave him over there staring at that lonely moth-eaten one I made him in fifth grade that says, "Dad," in red glitter.
So I take that bowl of Cheerios and dump it in the sink, and he's saying, "Hey," and Juney is laughing cause no one defies Marcus and gets away with it…well not even me…but I don't want to. And I heat up the rest of Elaine's food for Marcus, and he says I didn't have to do that, but I can see he likes me to take care of him, and I want to do that too.
Then I have to sit on his leg while he eats, one arm around my waist, the other hand shoveling Elaine's pasta and Juney, holding that nameless dog says, "Are you guys gonna be doing this all the time?"
And Marcus says, "Yep, all the time," and he kisses me with his mouth full and me and Juney say, "Ew."
But I don't mean it.
Once Marcus is gone Juney and I drive over to Billy's to work out my shifts with Teresa. He has his puppy under his shirt, and he's wearing a heavy jacket too. He's been off today for a teacher in-service, but he has to finish the week in school.
Then he'll be on Christmas vacation.
Now he sits at the counter and Teresa oohs and aahs over the puppy and tells him to zip his jacket so none of the customers give her grief about the dog. Like they would. Juney then eats a sizeable portion of the special--chicken and noodles and well, so do I.
Teresa wraps one up for me to take to Artie. She teases me some about my wild wedding night, saying I have that special glow. She's assuming, but I blush like a freak, and she thinks she knows the deal, but I could be the one to make her blush. The things I've done now, the things I plan to do…Lord.
I sign up for my twenty hours. I look over the decorating attempt, feel a little perplexed at the haphazard way Coy has strung lights over the windows. I tell myself it's not important. Not right now anyway. I can do my thing with Artie's tree…which I still need to fix up.
We leave Teresa's with a foil wrapped plate and pie for Artie. Juney has two big cookies in his hand and a puppy under his clothes.
At the hospital, we plan to smuggle in the newest member of our family so Artie can meet him. Juney keeps his arms folded over the prize.
"Looks like you have a stomach ache," I say.
And as we cross the lot I tease Juney about the pup's name. He says he already knows the pup's name, but he doesn't want to say.
"Is it Beverly?" I ask.
"No," he says, but he's being mysterious.
"What do you think? Blackie?"
"No," he says, holding the bundle under his coat.
"Rover?" I guess.
"No," he says again trying not to smile.
He won't tell me, and I can't make him crack all the way to Artie's room.
So we're carrying on a little bit as we enter good old three-twenty-nine.
There's a woman sitting by Dad's recliner. She's on the vinyl couch next to his chair. There is the residue of an intense conversation in this room. They are both looking at me like they've been caught.
If I were a bird dog I'd be in full-on point right now, I'm that uncomfortable. I'm thinking—'no way. No way.'
Artie looks at me, and I hate what I see
there, a mixture of apology and his own difficulties. I've seen it before, and I don't know when or where.
She stands right up. She's attractive, thin, a smile that doesn't reach the sadness in her eyes. Her eyes. I know them.
She has brown hair cut in a bob. Her clothes are form fitting, but she's so thin she looks modest. And I can tell she's a smoker. I'm never wrong about that.
Through the hot buzz in my ears, I hear the words, Ranita, and mother. That's really all that gets through.
Juney has rounded the bed, gone close to Artie, but he just stands there looking at the woman, at me.
"Hello Bedilia," she says.
I don't mean to not answer. I'm just…the puppy is crying, and that gets my attention. Juney opens his coat. Ranita comments on the puppy, but her eyes, and Artie's eyes are on me.
What am I supposed to say?
She just gets to, show up?
Artie hasn't taught me to hate her. So I don't hate her.
But I don't know her.
Artie introduces her to Juney and he's polite. Juney is still holding the puppy, but his eyes search mine. The motherless.
She is oohing over Juney cause he's adorable and she sees that. "Is he your son, Bedilia?" She's not sure how Juney and I are connected.
That stabs me some…how much she doesn't know. And right away I'm on the spot.
"He's my husband's son," I say. I'm not ready to tell her about me.
Juney's face falls a little. "He's my husband's biological son," I correct. "But yes…he's mine too," I say this right to Juney but he's not letting me off so easily. I see that.
Now she's apologizing, but I can barely keep up. I don't want to.
She didn't plan to just spring herself on me. She'd gone to the station and learned Artie was here. She came to the hospital to speak first with Artie. He hadn't really given his permission. He wanted to talk to me about it first…in person. Then he would let Ranita know if I wanted to meet her or not.
But I just showed up.
"And you're married," she says, and I realize she has my voice…well, I have hers. There is the suggestion of tears in her eyes. I look away. Apparently Artie has told her my life story.
"Bedilia, I'll go. I'm sorry to have blindsided you like this. If you want to see me, Artie knows how to get ahold of me at the Uptown Motel. But if it's too much, I understand." She's picking up her purse, making her way around the bed, keeping distance as she passes me. "You're a lovely young woman. Congratulations on your marriage."
I smell her soap. She has lines around her mouth. She held me. There was a song…a dance…a book…a shared ice cream cone…shadow puppets on the wall…a white washrag on my back…long strokes of the brush down my hair…and a full skirt with roses. There was a time…time was….
I nod a little. We're the same height. She goes out then.
I carry my memories in a purse inside, and it's zipped closed, and it's around my neck, and it's more than hers, it's mine…what I know…carved in me small…that's my mama…all of those things…but this woman now…this woman can go on out. I don't know her.
"Come here," Artie says. I go to the couch and plop down where it is still warm from her. I think of moving, but I really can't.
"Bedilia are you alright honey? I know it's a terrible shock her just showing up," Artie says.
"I just…wasn't ready," I say.
"It's alright. I'll make sure she goes away."
I laugh a little. "What?" It just sounds wrong. Like, Tony Soprano. "It's alright, Dad."
"Is it?" he says like he doesn't believe me.
"Juney…she caught me off-guard. I haven't even had a chance…," I say.
"I know," Juney says like shut-up.
"With you…all I think is 'family,'" I say to him. "It's always been like that."
"I know," Juney says again more forcefully.
"Hey now," Artie says to him.
"I said it strong like that because she…doesn't know. She's my mom…and she doesn't even know if you're my son," I tell him like he'll understand.
Juney turns away from me.
Artie signals I should let it rest.
"Well, how'd you take it?" I ask Dad.
He is shaking his head. "Hell if I know. Good thing I'm sitting down I guess. Never a word all these years and I'm sitting here…."
"You knew she was alright, though," I say. I know he kept in touch with that one sister. Christmas card every year.
"I never asked about her," he said. "Never did."
Well, there it is. I could go after her, but I could do a lot of things I'm not about to do.
"Let's see this rascal," Dad says reaching to pet the dog.
"Know what I named him?" Juney says.
"Blackie?" he says.
We have a laugh then. "That's what she said," Juney says. So I'm 'she' now.
"Well 'she' was your age when we had Blackie," Dad says.
"A dog like this?" Juney.
"A little bit maybe," Artie says.
"Now you are making me sad," I say.
"What happened to him?" Juney asks.
Dad and I look at one another. "Lived to a good old age and went to sleep," Artie says. Yeah right.
"Well…I'm not naming him Blackie," Juney says.
"Oh no?" Artie says idly, smiling sadly at me. It's catching up to him, seeing her.
"I'm calling him Scrapper." Juney.
"Scrapper?" Artie says. I just stay quiet for once. Well, I feel quiet now.
Artie does a little rap using the word 'bark' and slapping the arms of his recliner.
Juney is laughing, and he says, "Stop. I said, Scrapper."
Artie holds Scrapper then. He's asking how we got him in here. Juney tells him we can take Scrapper anywhere as long as he wears his coat.
I say, "Hey Dad I've got Teresa's chicken and noodles in the car. Want some?"
"Oh," he says, "you're lying. I am so sick of this food. Some chicken and noodles, I believe that might knit my bones."
I am happy to take a walk to get the food. I smile fondly as I pass the chapel. I think I audibly sigh, and lo and behold there's Ranita coming out of the restroom.
We look at one another, and there's no way I can ignore her.
She waves. It's surreal. I came from this woman.
"Artie said you were married here last Sunday," she says.
Darn that Artie giving away the sweetest details of my life just because he's knocked on his butt.
"Yeah," I say.
We push through the outside doors, and a cold wind cuts us.
"I don't blame you if you aren't glad to see me," she says.
"It's weird you showing up," I say.
"I know. I don't have a right. I have no right."
What am I supposed to say here?
"Where…do you live?" I say.
"In a small town," she laughs a little like that's some big joke. "Ran away from this one…to another one in Tennessee."
If I gave a darn, that would hurt. But I am curious.
"You have a right to hate me," she says, and it's very off-putting. I don't need her permission to feel anything. She doesn't know me, doesn't know one thing about my feelings.
"Artie…he's been a good dad," I say cause I do want to say that.
"I knew he would be."
"Oh yeah?" I don't like what she's saying like she knew anything but what she wanted to do.
She is running a little to catch me because I can move if I want to. "Bedilia, please don't run off."
I stop. Who runs off? Not me.
"I…was recently widowed," she says.
Four, three, two, one. "I'm sorry."
She nods, looks down, wipes her nose. "Yeah…married seven years. He um…aneurism last October. He was…he was good."
I want to say he was not as good as Artie.
"You don't have to feel bad. All I needed was Dad," I say.
Her breath whooshes a little on that one. I didn't intend to hurt her,
and I'm not even sure where such a declaration came from. But I'm angry now.
"You just passing through?" I say, worried she's come to hurt him again.
"No," she says. "I just wanted to tell him how sorry I was, Bedilia."
"Did you?"
"In…so many words."
"Cause he's got a girlfriend."
"I can imagine. He's always been good."
"I'm glad you know."
"Don't worry, I didn't come along to cause trouble. I just wanted to see him. Tell him what I said. See you if I could. Just see how you turned out. Forgive me sweetheart. I know it's selfish."
I want to say, 'that never stopped you did it…selfish?' But I don't say that. I'm already running out of steam.
I still don't trust her for anything. But…she's kind of pitiable. "You have other family?" I say. "You have kids?"
She smiles a little. "Just…you."
"That's probably good…right?" I don't say it mean, just stating a fact.
But her smile is sad. And I know then, I don't want to hurt her.
Later, in bed, in a nest of red brocade, I lay beside him, half on, half off, our arms and legs as entwined as our hearts.
It's here where it all makes sense…by not having to make sense at all.
I have told him, in a voice small but strong. He's taken it seriously, is worried I'll be hurt. He puts his pain on me, I know, and sees Ranita, through all that glass, Angela, Juney, little me left behind, and Artie, and himself. He's my protector, he wants to fix, he knows he can't, but he'd like a shot, he'd always like a shot.
What does she want? What does she expect? How can she ask? How can she be? –he says all this.
Is there a way to make sure she never slips through again, her kind never slips through? That's what he's asking.
And here's what I know…she couldn't give me what she didn't have.
And I'm not her.
Chapter 60
I leave Marcus, and he mumbles, he doesn't want me to go but assumes it's nature calling and slurs, "Hurry back," as he rolls onto his stomach, and I look at him for a moment, his hair against the pillow.
I love.
So I go in the bathroom and wash my face and hands, then I dress quietly and tiptoe out of there down the hall to Juney's room.
