Night Swimming

by Robin Schwarz

  At first all she could think about was Tony Bennett. But the rhythm of her strokes brought her around to other thoughts. How many months did she have left? she wondered. It took eight months before her mother showed any symptoms of cancer. She was fine, and then one day she was not. Blossom presumed the same fate awaited her. She’d be fine until she woke up one morning, and it would be obvious. It would be over.

  But for now she was still alive. She was still waking up every morning as a member of the living world. Was this how she wanted it to be when she left Gorham? Was this how she envisioned the last year of her life? Mooning after someone who could not reciprocate in the same way? No, this was not what she had wanted. What she wanted was simple. To love and to be loved. To come to Hollywood, a place she had heard so much about, a place she believed that dreams could come true, and to find her destiny. Was that too much to ask? Clearly, it was.

  Why do I want love so much? Is it because I don’t want to be alone in the end? She struggled to stay honest with herself. She believed it was more than that, but she also believed it was okay that love serve as a buffer against loneliness. Isn’t this true for people who are not dying? Isn’t this an unsaid truth for most of the men and women we pass on the street every day? The women who are buying Cheerios at the grocery store, the men who are fixing their ties at a stoplight, looking at their watches, late for a meeting? People don’t want to live alone, and they certainly don’t want to die alone. Yes, it was true.

  Perhaps, she thought, she could look for love elsewhere. After all, the world was filled with people. Skip was not the only man on earth. But then again, there were her feelings. How could she just turn off her feelings?

  This question was so familiar. Why? She swam, back and forth, back and forth and then it finally came to her. Of course, it was difficult to remember. She had tried so hard to forget. She’d experienced those very feelings with T. J. Just thinking about him brought the horror of that evening. It was a moment that would remain fixed in time. As if the hands of the church clock had frozen because of some chance cold snap, hands that stayed locked in the final stroke of their last bitter seconds. All one could hear, now and forever, were the hollow groans of loss blowing through the bell towers above the town.

  And Charlotte remembered, “Go find her, T. J.” The words still echoed in Blossom’s ears like a judge’s gavel bringing down the final sentence. If she could only take them back. The guilt was overwhelming. How could she have let her own feelings dominate everything? How could she have told him to go and find MaryAnn? After he’d hurt MaryAnn so, she’d never agree to come back to Charlotte’s with him. Better to join him over there. She had rushed over to MaryAnn’s house, but no one had been there. Where could they be? She decided to leave a note: Out looking for you. Will go home after. Please, please, call me there as soon as you get this.

  She drove past the school, the 7-Eleven, the Mobil station; she drove past T. J.’s house, the police station, the post office, then finally decided this was futile and went home. They could at least reach her there. Barely an hour had passed when the phone rang.

  “MaryAnn, I’m so glad to hear from you, I—”

  But MaryAnn cut her off. “Charlotte, I’m at the hospital.”

  Oh, my God. What happened? Did she hurt herself?

  “Are you okay? I’m coming over right now.”

  “No, don’t.”

  MaryAnn was sobbing. “But, MaryAnn, I—”

  “Charlotte, it’s T. J....T. J....He’s dead. He was drunk. He drove straight into a tree on Lowell Street.” There was silence, and then MaryAnn continued.

  “Did he go to your house, Charlotte?”

  Oh, God, he was at my house. How could I have told him to leave when he was drunk?

  “Was he at your house?” MaryAnn asked again.

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “Yes, it seemed as if he’d been drinking a lot.” And I let him go. I let him drive that way. Charlotte bit her lip till it bled. “I’m coming over to the hospital. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “MaryAnn, please...”

  “No, don’t. I have to go with his parents to ID the body now. I don’t want you here.”

  “Oh, please, MaryAnn, please don’t be alone right now.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with the person I’m supposed to be with.”

  Everything changed after that. MaryAnn withdrew from the friendship. Charlotte felt terrible. If she hadn’t told T. J. how she felt, maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe she and MaryAnn would still be friends. Maybe God was punishing her. She would never tell MaryAnn the truth—it would only hurt her, and there was nothing to be gained by her having such knowledge now. No, Charlotte would have to carry her grief over losing T. J. privately. Everyone felt so bad for MaryAnn; no one guessed the anguish Charlotte suffered. But guilt began to outweigh anguish, especially because it was clear that MaryAnn blamed her for T. J.’s feelings and his death. Charlotte blamed herself even more. If only, she’d think. If only, if only, if only...

  Seducing Tom away from her had been MaryAnn’s way of getting even, and Charlotte had no choice but to painfully accept the situation. Perhaps there was a part of Charlotte that felt undeserving, guilty. Yes, this is right; why should I have Tom? MaryAnn deserves his love more than I do.

  But this was years ago, and the guilt was still there, nipping at her heels, like tiny fish that swim in the shadow of the shark, nibbling incessantly at its skin no matter where it goes. Guilt had become a symbiotic relationship for her.

  But wasn’t it her turn now? Hadn’t she paid her dues, learned enough lessons? Why was it that there were so many hard lessons to learn in life, in love? Why, she wondered, couldn’t it all be as easy as floating on your back and looking at the stars?

  CHAPTER 35

  EIGHT-THIRTY IN THE MORNING would have found Blossom at her desk a year ago, but now it was early for her, so early she was roused from a deep sleep. What had woken her? A knock at the door, followed by “Blossom, you in there?”

  Jesus. She flew through the closet, looking for anything to throw on. A wrinkled caftan fell to the floor, and she grabbed it up and shimmied into it. It was bigger than she’d remembered. And it simply wouldn’t adjust to fit quite right. But she had no time to think about that now. She had to answer the door.

  She took a quick glance through the peephole as if visually bracing herself, and there he was, looking handsome as ever even through this unflattering lens.

  “Skip!”

  “Blossom. Hi. You’re finally home. I tried to find you yesterday. You were nowhere in sight. Listen, I’m so sorry about the other night. Can I come in?”

  “Yes, by all means, come in. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “No, no thanks. I can’t stay, but I just wanted to apologize and tell you what happened.”

  Blossom didn’t say a word. An apology was appropriate, and she took it. And she was curious about what happened, so she didn’t stop him.

  “Jeannie came over...to give me the present.”

  Right, right. Must have been some present.

  “We got to talking. I thought she was just going to stay until I opened it. But she ended up staying longer.”

  The night?

  “She said she was glad we had this time together, because she had wanted to get together for a while now, but with her schedule and mine...”

  Jesus, Skip, just say it already. You and she are back together. It was a wonderful night. You never expected it. You’re so sorry that you couldn’t even manage to call me, but the evening just slipped away.

  “So anyway, we got to talking, and she asked me if I was happy. She asked how I was doing with the separation. I told her okay, but that I really missed her, missed being with her, waking up with her, going to sleep with her. She was quiet. I suddenly got the feeling th
at I had given her the wrong answer. My instinct was right,” Skip laughed wryly. Blossom looked on, surprised, unsure, waiting for him to continue. “She said she was sorry that was how I felt, because she had met someone. Someone she liked...a lot.”

  “Oh, Skip...”

  “I asked her if she was in love, and she didn’t say anything. So I asked her again and she said maybe.”

  “Oh, Skip, I’m so sorry.” It was strange, but no part of Blossom felt happy. Her heart broke for him at that moment. She knew what it felt like to be told no, to be told it would not work out, to be told by the person you needed and loved that they didn’t feel the same way about you. She remembered when Tom Barzini told her the very same thing. And, of course, when she told T. J., even though it had been a god-awful, irretrievable lie in that case.

  “So I asked her if it was over, if our marriage was completely over now, and she said she didn’t know. She said she needed more time to see where her feelings were taking her, and she didn’t want to say anything absolute yet, but that she thought it was important that I know. She didn’t want to keep secrets from me. We never did that with each other, and she didn’t want to start now.”

  “Oh, Skip, it must have been a nightmare for you.”

  “It was, Blossom. We ended up talking until three in the morning. We cried; we held each other. I had this awful feeling that it was the end. I’m sorry that I didn’t call. I know you must have gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “No, don’t worry. There are always opportunities to have dinner.” She paused before continuing. “Maybe it’s not over, Skip. Maybe this is just something she has to do before coming full circle.” Is this me? God, I sound so magnanimous. More normal than I ever have, even to myself.

  “Part of me would like to think so, Blossom, but there was something about it that just didn’t have that feeling. And if we did get back together, could I ever really trust that Jeannie would not want to split again? I’m feeling so many different things, I don’t know what I really think. I do know if she called me up right now and said she’d made a mistake and wanted to work on it, I would be there in a heartbeat. I do know that.”

  “Maybe she will.”

  “She won’t. You know, I’ve tried to break down in my own head what it is I love about Jeannie. She’s completely rejected me, yet I still love her.”

  “Sometimes you’re even more attracted to what you can’t have. It’s human nature.” Ain’t that the truth.

  “Yeah, that’s true. But there’s something else. Something I can’t put my finger on. When we got married, it was so wonderful. It seemed there were no major difficulties to overcome.”

  “This is your first bump in the road?”

  “Yeah. And it hurts me to think she can’t stick it out with me. When I was a lawyer, even an unhappy lawyer, she could hang in there. Now that I’m doing this pool thing, faraway is not faraway enough for her.”

  Blossom didn’t know what to say, but fortunately, she didn’t have to. Skip wasn’t finished.

  “And the thing that has me somewhat baffled is, what does that say about me, that I could be in love with someone who’s that superficial?”

  Blossom understood Skip and could see why he had believed Jeannie was without flaws. At first sight of Jeannie, Blossom thought the same thing. But when Skip found flaws, flaws that were so glaring they blinded him, it made him feel he was incapable of making good judgments.

  “Well, this is yet another reason to work at the pool. It’s not just the job thing I need to figure out. I need to ask myself some serious questions. Who’d have ever thought a pool job would be this hard?” Skip laughed ruefully.

  “You’ll get there, Skip.”

  “Lord, I hope you’re right.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, Blossom struggling to produce some solution for her friend. Dolly had been so good at it. What would she say if she were here?

  She would be coming up with a hundred explanations of why things happen, and two hundred ways to make Skip feel better. She longed to call Dolly over and point to Skip and say, “Tell him, Dolly; tell him all the good stuff you always say to me. Tell him how marriage takes many turns, how some people just grow differently. Tell him that stepping off a moving train is scary at first, but the good news is that if somehow he can manage to jump off, then he can begin living again, because in making that leap of faith, he’ll arrive at a much better place than where he was when he began.”

  So Blossom tried to say what Dolly would say.

  “You know when a train is going very fast and you decide to jump off...”

  Jesus, Blossom, you sound like you’re suggesting suicide!

  “But it’s okay because you won’t get hurt in the fall.”

  “What?” Skip asked, looking utterly perplexed.

  “Oh, nothing. I’m trying to say something but it’s not coming out right. Oh, Skip, I want to say something to you, do something. What can I do?”

  “Nothing, Blossom, there’s really nothing you can do.”

  “Listen . . .” She reached down as far as she could. “Mrs. Fein-gold—Dolly—gave me tickets to a Tony Bennett concert for Saturday. Why don’t you take them? Take a friend and forget about everything for the night.”

  “Oh, Blossom, that’s really nice of you. But I don’t know...my head isn’t really in a place... Can I tell you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s no big deal.” Do this. It’s a good thing to do. Don’t make it about you. Let him take whoever he wants.

  “Thanks.” Skip turned to go.

  “Skip, one more thing . . .” Blossom reached for his present. It looked perfectly wrapped in beautiful gold paper embossed with muted blue flowers and tied with a silver string.

  “Oh, Blossom,” Skip said. He looked embarrassed. “I wish you hadn’t.”

  “It’s not much, really. Just a little something.”

  “It doesn’t look that little to me.”

  “It’s just a token, that’s all.”

  “Why don’t I leave it here and open it some other time in front of you?”

  “No, take it. Open it later—it’ll be a little diversion on a gloomy day.”

  Skip left with the box and the tiniest smile, which made her feel good. It surprised her to realize she did not covet anything else from him. It also surprised her that she was willing to part with her Tony Bennett tickets.

  Something was changing within her, like a fault line moving ever so subtly to align itself with the rest of the earth. She didn’t want anything, wasn’t receiving anything, and yet felt compensated, happy. What was this tiny truth she was experiencing? What strange reality? And then it came to her, just like that. It was, simply and solely, acceptance.

  CHAPTER 36

  I’M GONNA TAKE YOU UP on those tickets, Blossom, if it’s still okay.” Blossom was excited. Seeing her favorite singer of all time with Skip—what could be better?

  “Fantastic!”

  “Yeah, I mentioned it to a friend of mine, and she was thrilled beyond belief. I had no idea what a fan she was. Apparently, he has a big following.”

  Blossom’s heart sank. She had forgotten she had given him both tickets. Somehow, the way he had said it, she thought ...she thought...

  “Oh, no, he has a very big following.” Her voice softened. “I’m quite a fan myself.”

  “Did you want to keep them?”

  “No, absolutely not. I can’t make it actually. I have a date.”

  “You do? Good for you. Who’s the lucky guy?”

  Oh shit. “Bill...Bill Bailey.” Bill Bailey? What am I, an idiot?

  “Bill Bailey? Like the song?”

  “Yeah, I know, he hates when people bring that up.” A nervous, stupid idiot.

  “Well, I won’t break into song when I meet him.”

  Meet him?

  “You sure you don’t want to keep these tickets for your date?”

  “No, we’re going to Morton’s for a big Thanksgiving dinn
er. He has a lot of friends in show business. We’ll be eating with them. Hold on a second and let me get them for you.”

  Blossom went into the bedroom to get the tickets. Bill Bailey? Morton’s? A lot of friends in show business? Why didn’t I just tell him I was going out with Brad Pitt or Steven Spielberg or Elvis? Jesus, Blossom. “Here they are,” she said, handing them over. She watched him pocket both tickets as if he were taking the only transport papers that could get her out of Casablanca.

  “Thanks, Blossom. I’ll give you a full report. He’s the one that sings that song about leaving your heart in San Francisco, right?”

  “Right.” That was all Skip knew about Tony Bennett? He’d won Tonys and Grammys; he was Frank Sinatra’s favorite singer, for God’s sake!

  “Have a great time,” she said, passing over the keys to the kingdom. I’m just gonna go inside and kill myself now.

  Blossom sat there thinking about the tickets. She was truly happy to have done something nice for Skip. She was. But she wanted to see that concert, too. And then it came to her. Why couldn’t she go to the concert? There was no reason she couldn’t call up the box office and get a ticket for herself. After all, Bill Bailey wouldn’t be that upset that she wouldn’t be able to attend his Thanksgiving soiree at Morton’s. So she picked up the phone and called.

  She made sure her seats were miles away from Skip’s. The Hollywood Bowl was way too big ever to bump into someone you knew. Perfect. Everyone would get to see Tony Bennett.

  Blossom put on a chiffony black muumuu with a belt that gathered up most of the overly abundant fabric. It was her only muumuu that could pass for a fancy dress if she accessorized it. She finished the look with six strands of long, fat pearls. Her hair was up, her makeup on, her eyebrows growing in nicely. It was crowded at the Hollywood Bowl, just as she had suspected. Thousands of people poured in, mumbling, laughing.

  She found her seat way up in the stands. Nosebleed seats. She didn’t care—she was lucky to have even gotten a ticket. Most people had purchased them weeks ago. She peered through her binoculars to assess the stage. Not too bad. She would be able to see him quite well when he came out. She held the program tight in her hands. Maybe she could even get his autograph later.