She slammed the door in Calvin’s face.
She had already kicked her shoes off and was on her way to the bathroom when she heard Calvin softly calling her name. Then he knocked quietly. She opened the door a crack. He squinted at her through the links of the chain that prevented him from entering the room.
“What is it, Calvin?” Ruby asked miserably.
“I just wanted to tell you I’ll be by to pick you up for breakfast. Is nine o’clock too early? I’m going to tell Eve I’m taking an old friend out for the day. I’m going to do a lot of things, Ruby, make a lot of changes. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Ruby bit down on her lower lip. She’d forced him into making a decision, one she could live with. But only if his marriage was really over and if he was prepared to act on it would she spend the day with him. She refused to be a party in the breakup of his marriage. Calvin would have to make that decision. “All right, Calvin, I’ll have breakfast with you, and if we can agree on certain things, we can spend the day together.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Ruby.”
It was ten-thirty when Calvin entered his house through the kitchen. It took him a long time to fit his key into the lock in the dark. Eve never left a light on for him. He cursed under his breath.
He turned on the light and glanced around for the cat. Slinking about somewhere or pissing on the couch. Christ, how he hated the smell. He’d wanted to have it neutered, but Eve had refused. Dishes and crumbs covered the counter. The toaster was still out. He couldn’t remember the last time Eve cooked a real meal. Usually, he cleaned up the place, but he wasn’t going to do that tonight. He wasn’t going to clean the cat’s dish, either. He turned out the light.
Calvin walked through the living room, hating the sight of furniture clad in sheets. Cat hairs. The house revolved around Eve’s cat. It was curled up on the corner of the sofa. He turned on one of the lamps. The white sheets, as usual, had been sprinkled with yellow spray. He was the one who washed them. No more. He turned off the light and headed for the family room, where Eve was staring at the television, a magazine open in her lap.
“I’m home,” he said to hear his own voice more than anything else.
“So am I,” Eve said curtly.
Calvin stared at his wife, comparing her to Ruby. It wasn’t fair, but he did it anyway. Eve’s hair was gray and frizzy. He told himself she’d taken a shower and that’s why it was standing at attention in little spiky sections. Her face was lathered with cold cream. Ruby probably did the same thing. Eve wore white cotton gloves. Once he’d asked her why and she said her hands were rough and she was trying to get rid of the brown spots. It wasn’t till later that he wondered why her hands would be rough; she didn’t do dishes or scrub floors.
Ruby’s hands were soft, the nails clipped short and covered with a pale pink polish. She had freckles on her hands, too. Eve popped a handful of peanuts into her mouth. Even from this distance he could see the little salt sprinkles dust the fine hairs over her lips. He thought about telling her the salt was there. She was addicted to eating peanuts and guzzling diet soda. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he could hear her tripping to the bathroom every thirty minutes. Eve didn’t sleep any better than he did. Now he wondered why.
She shifted from her position in the recliner, his favorite chair, which she sat in when he wasn’t home. They had an unspoken agreement concerning the chair. Whoever got to it first stayed in it for the evening. “Is something bothering you, Calvin?” She sounded as though she didn’t care one way or another. She shook the peanut can. It must be empty, Calvin thought. She fished around for crumbs.
“No. I wanted to tell you that I won’t be home tomorrow. I’m having breakfast with an old friend who’s in town. I’ll be out most of the day.” Eve shrugged as she shifted her position in the recliner. He stared down at her slipper socks. She would have on wool socks underneath. Eve’s feet were always cold. She jerked at the robe she was wearing. Calvin frowned. He could have sworn the robe was pink. Ted and Steve had given it to her one year on her birthday. It wasn’t pink now, and it had little balls of fuzz all over it.
Calvin was the first to admit he knew almost nothing about females, but if men could make themselves presentable, why couldn’t women? True, it was time for bed, and people tended to get comfortable, but Eve ... Eve didn’t seem to care. There was nothing fashionable about his wife; there never had been. He wanted to be kind. She was older than Ruby, older than himself. That had to be the answer
“Eve, I’d like to talk to you. This is the first time for a long time we’re in the house at the same time. We need to talk about a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m probably going to get passed over when the selection board meets. I’ll be out of a job. I could resign now and get out in June, when my thirty years are up. What’s your feeling?”
Eve shrugged, her eyes still glued to the television. Just as Calvin gave up on the thought that she might express an opinion, she said, “I think you’re right. You were passed over once, so there’s no reason to think they’ll view you any differently this time. You’ll have to get a job. I’m certainly not going to work. And your retirement pay won’t stretch to meet the bills.”
“We might have to move. This is an expensive place to keep up. The kids are gone; we don’t need all this room.”
“I’m not moving, Calvin. I told you that when we settled here. You dragged me from one end of the country to the other, uprooting the kids every time we got settled. You’ll have to find a way to keep up this house. Close off the rooms we don’t use, rent out the basement. It’s your problem,” she said flatly.
The program changed. Eve cranked the handle on the recliner, was out of it in the blink of an eye, changing the channel. She was back in the chair, tugging and yanking at her robe to get comfortable.
Calvin leaned forward. “Let’s discuss a divorce, Eve.”
Eve turned. “Let’s not.”
Calvin sighed. “You aren’t happy with me; I’m not happy with you. Your parents are dead, so you can’t use them as an excuse.”
“It was your idea for me to convert to Catholicism. The church forbids divorce.” She smirked to show what she thought of his idea.
“I could walk out. Then what would you do?” He had her attention now. An ugly look crossed her face.
“You’ve been saying that for the past fifteen years, and you haven’t done it. You won’t do it now, either. Your precious air force frowns on divorce.”
“Ah, but you’re forgetting, I’m probably going to get out. Then it’s just you and me. I don’t care anymore, Eve. I’m sick and tired of this empty existence. You don’t contribute, financially or emotionally, you never have. You’ve never tried to make things easy.”
“You’re supposed to be the man in this house. It’s the man’s responsibility to provide for his wife and family,” Eve said flatly.
“You were never a wife to me,” Calvin snapped.
“And you were never a husband,” Eve retorted.
Calvin stood. He stared down at his wife. “Did you ever love me? Did you ever care, just a little?” He waited for her response, holding his breath.
“No.”
“Then why in the goddamn hell did you marry me?” Calvin roared, his voice full of pain and anguish.
Eve laughed. “Because you were the only one who ever asked me. I wanted to get away from my parents and my dizzy sister before I ended up just like her. A woman born and bred in the South is brought up to believe she isn’t complete unless she has a husband, a protector. You were a means to an end. You’ve known this all along. I never made it a secret. Why are we going through it again? All you wanted was a body. You didn’t want to be alone. You settled for me; I settled for you.”
“I told you, I want a divorce. I’ll stay till June, and then I’m going to a lawyer. We’ll sell the house; you’ll get half and I’ll get half. We’ll go our separate way
s. If you trench in, I’m still leaving. We’ll let the lawyers handle things. You can have the cat,” Calvin said, marching stiffly from the room.
Eve turned completely around in her chair, spotted a stray peanut on the end table, and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes narrowed.
“There will be no divorce,” she muttered as she marched into the kitchen in search of a fresh can of peanuts. “I didn’t put up with you all these years to go it alone now when I’m due to go on Medicare. Think again, Calvin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The following morning, over a breakfast of ham and eggs, Ruby Blue and Calvin Santos began an affair that was to last five years. They were young again, in one of the most romantic cities of the world, a city where they’d met long ago and fallen in love.
Ruby stared across the table, her eyes starry, at Calvin, who wore an identical expression. They talked steadily until the waiter asked them if they were staying for lunch. They were laughing like two children; Calvin paid the bill and left a generous tip.
Outside in the parking lot, Ruby turned to Calvin. Her voice was serious. “What did we eat, Calvin? I want to remember this breakfast. I’m in such a dither, I feel as if I should take notes.”
“Waffles and bacon,” Calvin said promptly as he ushered her into the front seat of a VW Beetle which had seen better times. Ruby scribbled down waffles and bacon on the back of her checkbook, certain she’d had pancakes and sausage.
They drove off, whooping and laughing, sillier than teenagers, happier than newlyweds.
They drove all over Washington, to Mount Pleasant, past the house on Kilbourne Place, and down the alley behind the house on Monroe Street to see if the flowered trash cans were still in existence. They weren’t. Rena and Bruno now lived in Arlington, Virginia, in a magnificent colonial house. They drove past the zoo. Ruby’s eyes grew misty. Calvin cleared his throat huskily.
“Let’s go to the park,” he said, executing a wicked turn. “I want—”
“What?” Ruby asked softly.
“We had some of our happiest times in the park. We picnicked, we necked. We talked about our future, our plans, and how we’d be together for the rest of our lives. Remember how we talked about growing old together?”
“We are old, Calvin.” Ruby giggled. “Yes, let’s go to the park. You should have carved our initials in a tree so we could look for it.”
“I wish I had,” Calvin said softly, reaching for her hand. “I’m going to do it right now!” he said, steering the little car at breakneck speed into a parking space. He was out of the car a second later and opening Ruby’s door.
They ran over the frozen ground, laughing and shouting each other’s names over and over. Breathless and winded, Ruby collapsed against Calvin. How wonderful it is, she thought, being here with Calvin’s arms around me. She knew he was going to kiss her; she wanted him to. She felt the softness of his fingers as he cupped her face in his hands; she heard his strangled sigh—or was it her own—and felt his lips on hers. It was like the first time he’d kissed her, sweet and gentle, until she’d demanded more. She demanded now and he responded the way he had that very first time.
When they parted, Calvin said in a choked burst of laughter, “I’d drag you off to my lair if I had a lair.”
“I have a lair,” Ruby whispered.
“I know. Jesus, Ruby, I never wanted anything so much in my life.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Ruby continued to whisper.
“Not much if we stay here. My balls are almost frozen.” Calvin grinned.
Ruby linked her arm in his. “Then, General, what I think we should do is head for my lair and do whatever comes naturally.” She was smiling; Calvin was grinning from ear to ear.
Calvin tossed his overcoat onto a chair. Ruby’s coat followed. She kicked off her shoes, hardly noticing them flying across the room as Calvin removed his suit jacket. She shed her jewelry; he did the same. She untied her scarf as Calvin jerked at his tie. It was a nice tie, she noticed. His shirt was on the floor as her dress slipped down about her ankles. She reached for his belt buckle as he reached to undo the clasp of her bra.
Wings of fear and apprehension beat in Calvin’s chest as he stared at Ruby’s breasts. She leaned into him, one hand trying to slide her half slip down over her hips while her other hand continued to loosen his trousers.
“Jesus,” Calvin murmured. “Help me, Ruby. Why do you wear so many clothes?”
“So you’ll appreciate me more when you finally—” She toppled him onto the bed, her breathing as ragged as his. Her head was spinning. The raw, aching need she felt transferred itself to Calvin as he crushed his body against hers. She felt the strangled sigh build inside him. She drew away and buried her face into the crook of his arm, her hand busy, creating little trails up and down his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, wondering if it would leap out of his chest, the way hers was about to.
Her fingers moved again, stroking the wiry hair on his chest in little circles and then moving, slowly, in a straight, tantalizing line toward his navel. She inched away from the crook of his arm, whispering. “Let me, I want to do this. I want to drive you to the brink and back again until neither of us can stand it. Lie still.”
As if he could move. He was dead, halfway to heaven. The excitement he was feeling was unbearable. His eyes rolled back in his head when he felt Ruby’s soft hands move downward. He pushed himself into the pillows, against the headboard, waiting for the surge of passion to ease. Instead, it built and he cried out her name—again and again.
And then it began in earnest. He knew he was being driven out of his mind as Ruby used every bit of her body to bring him to that one last excruciating moment. How could a soft tongue, an equally soft breath, be driving him to the point of insanity? He’d never been licked, never been tasted. And then the wonderful, tantalizing ministrations ceased and she was straddling him, staring deeply into his eyes. “Do you want me to do it or do you want to do it?” she asked breathlessly.
He rolled her over and was exploding into oblivion a moment later. He was crushing her, he knew, but he couldn’t move. He loved nestling his head between her sweet-smelling breasts. He felt her inch out from under him, her breathing as harsh as his own.
He drew her to him, kissing her damp forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose. “My God, I love you.” He groaned. He stared deeply into her eyes, waiting for her response that he needed to hear. He sighed happily when she whispered the same words. God in heaven, she truly did love him. He wished there were a way to measure love to see which one of them loved the most. He voiced the thought. He felt her smile against his chest.
He allowed her to see his vulnerability then, the words rushing out, his wedding night, the subsequent tries at making love with his wife. His dreams of her. “Shhh, don’t cry for me, Ruby. That’s past. We’re here now. We’re together,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her.
“I can’t help it, Calvin, no one should be able to count the times they made love in thirty years on both hands.” She squirmed in his embrace, propping herself on her elbow. He wiped at her tears with a corner of the sheet.
“Smile, Ruby, and please don’t pity me.”
Ruby smiled. “I have an idea,” she purred, “if we try real hard, between now and when I leave tomorrow, I think we might be able to set a new record for you.” She nibbled on his ear, her tongue soft and moist as her hands charted, explored, and conquered once again.
They slept, they made love, they showered, and made love again. It was almost dawn when Calvin slid his legs over the side of the bed. He felt like a bull. He pawed at the carpet before he got dressed. He scribbled a note and propped it up next to the phone. He was going home to change his clothes. He’d be back by ten. He’d drive her to the airport at five o’clock. “I love you,” he whispered. He leaned over to kiss Ruby on the cheek before he let himself out of the room. He whistled all the way to the car and on the twenty-minute drive home. He was still
whistling when he let himself into the kitchen. the same dirty dishes stared up at him. The cat hissed angrily that his dish was empty. He was still whistling softly as he made his way down the steps to his office bedroom. He almost burst into song when he stepped under the needle-sharp spray of the shower.
“That mustache you’re trying to grow looks stupid,” Eve said when he walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Ruby liked it; said he looked distinguished. He liked it himself. Another few days and it would be fully grown and ready to be trimmed. Calvin ignored her. He walked away, down to the den and the chair he could commandeer until it was time to leave. He turned on the television. A moment later he realized he had two choices: he could either watch a religious program or cartoons. He was laughing uproariously when Eve walked into the room dressed for church.
“I’m ready, aren’t you going?” Eve demanded, brandishing her prayer book under his nose.
“No,” Calvin said, watching a cluster of mice attack a big black cat on the screen.
Eve sniffed. How dowdy she looked, Calvin thought. “You should get a new coat,” he said generously. “I don’t see coats like that anymore.” Ah, good, the cartoon mice had the cartoon cat tied to the table leg. “You’ll be late if you don’t hurry.” He wanted her out of the room so he could be alone.
Eve turned on her heel. “Don’t forget we’re playing bridge with the Olivers at four o’clock.”
“Can’t today,” Calvin said, slapping his thighs when the mice struck a match under the cat’s foot. He howled when Eve’s cat hissed his displeasure at such goings-on. “I have plans.”
“What plans?” Eve shrieked. “We always play bridge on Sunday afternoon. We have to keep up appearances.”
Seasons of Her Life Page 48
