Totally relaxed, she didn’t feel guilty about leaving her family. They would be angry with her for a while, but they’d get over it. It was in this happy, empty-headed frame of mind that a vision of Lynn appeared. It startled Alice; she hadn’t thought about Lynn in days. Lynn ceased to be a concern when Alice relinquished control over her. She’d made the decision to live a certain way, and since she was an adult, there was nothing that could be done about it. When her siblings complained that she was mentally ill, Alice knew that it was out of her realm. Someone else would have to deal with it.
So for Lynn’s image to come upon her mother in this way, in this place, surprised Alice, and scared her. She didn’t have a cell phone to call John, so she’d have to use Dave’s. With anxiety mounting and her relaxed, lazy afternoon ruined, she got up and paid for her untouched food and left the café.
“I’m worried about my daughter,” she explained to Dave. “I need to use your phone.”
He gave it over without question, pointing out to Alice which buttons she needed to push to get to a keyboard. He finally offered to dial the number, and she recited it out loud for him. When the phone started to ring, he passed it back to her and left the room to give her some privacy.
“I’m sorry to bother you, John, especially when you’re angry with me. But I was thinking about Lynn suddenly and wondered if you might have seen her lately,” she explained.
There was silence.
“Well, it’s funny you should call, Mom, because I did see her today. You must have mother’s intuition. She found a lump in her breast and was at the clinic. They think it’s suspicious. She’ll find out Thursday what the diagnosis is.”
There was silence as Alice thought about the day, Tuesday afternoon, and how even if they drove all night they wouldn’t get there in time for Lynn’s appointment.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I was just thinking that someone should go with her when she goes back to the clinic. She shouldn’t be alone,” Alice said.
“I can go if you think I should,” John said, not mentioning Beth as a companion. That was a confession for another time. “When do you think you’ll be home?”
“I wish we could be there now,” she said. “I was having such a wonderful time, and suddenly I started thinking about Lynn. Lynn. Oh, Lord.”
“Mom, don’t worry about it, okay? I understand you are on the back of a motorcycle. Is that true?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s not what you think,” she explained. “We’re just friends getting to know one another. We haven’t slept together if that’s what everyone’s worried about.”
“Too much information, Mother! Jeesh!” John yelled, but he started to laugh and so did Alice. “What possessed you to take off with a stranger?”
“I had nothing to lose,” Alice said, resigned. “I’d been sick, the girls where treating me with disrespect, and I was given the opportunity to have an adventure. It was a no-brainer. If he turned out to be an ax murderer or a serial killer, so what?”
“That’s an awful thing to say. I’m sorry if I’ve treated you disrespectfully, Mom.”
“Thank you, John. But it’s not you so much, and I don’t want to badmouth your sisters,” she said. “I’m going to hang up now. Thank you for telling me about Lynn. Give her my love, okay? I’ll tell Dave we should be heading toward home now.”
“What have you been doing, if I may ask?”
“Antiquing,” she answered. “We’re in Santa Fe.”
“So he’s gay?”
“He said not,” Alice answered. “Besides, it’s none of your business.”
They said good-bye, and she hung up the phone. Dave was getting their things ready for the trip home.
“Everything okay?” he asked when she gave him back his phone.
“Not really.” She explained the news she’d just received.
He stopped what he was doing and really took the time to hear Alice out as she told him her daughter might have breast cancer. She was growing to really like this man.
“Do you want me to put you on a plane?” he asked.
She was appalled. “I’ve never flown! No, thank you,” she answered. “It’s very generous, but no way.”
“Well, if you’re sure, okay. But if you change your mind, you can be home by ten tonight. If you come with me, we have three long days on the road if we push.”
“No, I’ll go home on the bike,” she decided.
The rest of the evening was spent listening to music at a local bar. Alice was off in another world, thinking about Lynn. Hers was a breech delivery. She’d heard from John that breech births were usually C-sectioned these days. Alice remembered it was awful; she thought the baby would die. At one point, Lynn was stuck in the birth canal, and the doctor had to do some painful manipulation that made Alice scream in terror. One of the nurses was brusque with her, telling her to pipe down, and later being cavalier about it when Doug was telling her mother and Vicky what she’d gone through.
“Oh, so dramatic!” she said. But when the evening shift nurse came on, she pampered Alice, telling her the delivery was the talk of the department. Alice could tell the nurse was angry at her colleague and took extra steps making sure the new mother was comfortable that night.
They noticed something off about Lynn right away. She slept through the night and seemed lethargic around the clock. The doctors blew their concerns off, telling them they should consider themselves lucky that she slept. Then John was born a few years later, followed by April, and Lynn’s non-demands no longer were a problem. Caring for her was part of the routine, one child in line after the other. And then when April was two, Doug died. Just like that. He had the flu and was bedridden for six days and got a blood clot in his leg that went to his heart.
“Do you want to dance?”
She looked up to see Dave standing above her with his hand out. The band was playing “I Only Have Eyes for You,” and it was slow enough for even the rustiest dancer to keep rhythm to. He held her gently as they rocked back and forth on the dance floor, doing a simple two-step. She returned to thinking of Doug, remembering how ravishing he was and that he could really dance. She was uncoordinated, but he insisted they dance to every song played at the school dances they went to together. Doug. She was still amazed, even with him gone all these years, that he would even look in her direction. His family was wealthy; hers were from the other side of the tracks. He was so handsome, and she was a redheaded scarecrow. That was her nickname all through elementary school. Scarecrow. The first time Doug asked her out, she asked him if he knew.
“They call me names at school. Surely you’ve heard them,” she said.
“They’re idiots,” he said. “They’re jealous because of your beautiful red hair. Do you know how rare it is?”
She shook her head.
“Less than two percent of the population has red hair. Look at you!” He held her arms out as he looked into her eyes. “Yes, they are definitely jealous.”
Once they became a couple, she commanded more respect. But the hurt would linger for the rest of her life, especially after he died. She was a loner and would have spent her life single if it weren’t for Doug. But being with Doug for such a short time was so she could have his kids. All four of them had shades of her red hair, too.
Of the four of her children, Lynn reminded her most of herself. She was tall and lean, with the same curly, thick orange red hair and green eyes. Lynn was smart, but she had trouble concentrating, and after a while, the weekly notes to Alice from a complaining teacher were thrown into the trash.
“Honest to God, she’s the educator. What do they expect me to do? Beat the kid once she gets home?” Alice said to Vicky.
“Did you ever have her tested?” Vicky asked gently.
“For what?” Alice was confused. The kid got good grades, was pleasant and well-behaved at home. What more did they want?
“Well, she seems a little depressed,” Vicky replie
d. “Sad. I can’t really explain. It’s just a feeling I get from her.”
Alice was taken aback. Lynn depressed? She was only ten years old at the time.
“I don’t know about that. She’s quiet, like I was. She’d rather be alone in her room, reading a book. What’s wrong with that?” Alice was getting defensive because it made her angry that everyone was picking on her daughter. She didn’t fit in because she was different. So since when was that a problem?
But she got worse when she went through puberty. She started banging her head and rocking. All of the chairs in Alice’s kitchen had to be glued over and over because Lynn rocked them to pieces. Her behavior in school finally reached a critical place, and the district decided she would do better in the special education section. Alice was too tired to fight it. If they thought Lynn would do better away from the general population, so be it. She was being bullied and teased, and John and the girls were also starting to take some heat because she was their sister. It might be better if she was banished to the isolated section.
The effect was not what was hoped for. It further isolated from her peers. Lynn was already an oddity, and now the other children labeled her a retard. The horror of the word had the power to set Alice’s teeth on edge. She’d come to a fork in the road. She could have thrown everything she had into making sure Lynn was diagnosed properly, that she got the care available to her through the community mental health programs and an education optimal for her high intellect. But having a kid with special needs was too much for her. She chose the path of least resistance, which was to look the other way, be in denial, and ignore the obvious. Lynn was carried along by the wave of time, going through the motions of living without any purpose or goals, similar to her mother’s life.
In time, her siblings pretended she didn’t exist. The sister who was once the source of the younger kids’ comfort, a welcome lap to sit upon for rocking, a lullaby always ready to be sung, sunk lower and lower into mental illness until she was no longer recognizable.
Chapter 9
Lynn took on the identity of a sick person even though no diagnosis had yet been made. She checked into a shelter that night rather than find a place to sleep in her regular location on the street, because it seemed to her that a sick person was owed a warm, clean bed. She stood in the meal line even though she’d eaten more that day than all the previous week—the meal at the clinic and what John bought for her at the hospital cafeteria. Sick people needed to eat to keep up their strength. She took her second shower that day and picked out a clean outfit from the laundered, folded offerings at the shelter. Not ready to sleep, she entered a lounge area where other residents strained to see a TV mounted too high on the wall. Everyone looked up when she walked in, a curiosity whenever she stayed there. An older black man with a grizzled, white beard and hair, and swollen eyes approached her. Whenever she stayed at the shelter, he sought her out.
“Can I brush your hair?” the man asked. “I’m mesmerized by your red hair.” He was a former stylist from a famous salon in Atlantic City, he explained. He directed Lynn to sit in front of him in wooden chair, and she did so, closing her eyes. He gently detangled the mass of wet curls, and when he’d gotten a comb through it, gave her a scalp massage that would make the gooseflesh rise on her skin. With each stroke her head was pulled back, and she relinquished control over her neck, leaning into it. Very little physical contact was this pleasurable. She could sit and have her hair combed all night.
“Oh, that feels good,” she said.
The other residents gathered to watch as the man combed her hair until it was dry.
A shelter volunteer put an end to Lynn’s ecstasy. “Come on, you two, no contact in the shelter.”
Lynn stood up and, yawning, put her hand out to shake the man’s, and then drew it back, remembering the no contact rule applied to handshaking, too.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “That was nice.”
He murmured, “Thank you,” turning away.
Later that night, a body would move next to her on the cot, and in the same gentle way her hair was combed, stroke her body until she shivered with pleasure. He left her bed before daybreak, and she was pretty sure it was the man with the comb, although she couldn’t be positive. Breakfast was available to the residents and to those who came in off the streets, but she would leave the building before it was served, not calling attention to herself, aware that she was being watched by the stylist from Atlantic City.
~ ~ ~
The first day on the return trip to New Jersey was called to a halt after eight hours. Dave pulled into a gas station in Oklahoma City. She got off to stretch while he filled the tank.
“I’m so sorry, but there’s no way I can sit on this bike one more second,” Alice complained. “It’ll just have to take us longer than three days. I’m ready to fall off as it is.” She felt terrible about not being there for Lynn and for cutting his trip to Santa Fe short and now being a complainer.
“Okay,” Dave answered. “I know where we can stay here.” He got out his phone, looking up a number, and made a reservation in the minutes it took to fill up the small gasoline tank. “Hold on.”
They left the station and in five minutes were at a quaint-looking hotel near the outskirts of town, not the big, impersonal hotels she’d grown used to. He went inside to get their room and, when he came out, he was grinning.
“We got one of their last doubles,” he said. He took the saddlebags off the back of the bike, and they walked in side by side, talking about the beautiful weather and what Oklahoma City had to offer tourists.
Dave unlocked the door and the impact of what he’d said outside hit her. It was one queen-sized bed. She looked over at him and smiled, shaking her head. He looked confused, opening closets and looking behind the curtain for another bed. They’d been together for almost two weeks, and nothing had happened between them. She thought when she sat behind him for hours with her legs spread apart that he must be feeling some of her desire. She was shocked there was anything left in her, it had been so long. There was no energy left for a man. Now, she was going to sleep in the bed with someone she desired and who hopefully desired her. It seemed as though he might be ready to cross the line from platonic travel companion to romantic partner.
“Oh, I get it,” she said, smiling. “I guess tonight is the night?” She posed it as a question, and the response she got took her by surprise. She immediately was regretful; maybe he didn’t want to sleep with her after all, her age might be a factor, and now she’d put him on the spot.
“Not necessarily. Only if you want it to be,” he replied, and she stopped holding her breath. He could tell she was anxious and pulled her over to him for a kiss. She almost swooned, it was so wonderful. His mouth was soft, and she smelled the wind on him, the scent going into her nose, leaving a sensation right between her legs. Be careful. She angled herself in front of him, longing to feel his erection up against her, but he kept her off to his side, protective of her, respectful. She felt cherished by him. Closing the door to their room, he pulled her blouse out of her shorts and put his hand onto the skin of her back. Alice reached behind and unhooked her bra so that he could feel her breasts. He lifted her shirt and put his mouth to her nipple, first one and then the other. It was a delicious sensation she hadn’t had in many years, and the renewal of her body delighted her. So I still respond.
He reached for the button of her shorts, and she put the brakes on. “I need to shower,” she said.
He locked the door and closed the drapes in the room while she went into the bathroom to bathe. She took a quick shower and put her nightshirt on, not ready to unveil the whole horrible truth about being over fifty in broad daylight, although in reality she looked pretty good. He was sitting on a chair next to the window, still dressed, legs sprawled apart. “I thought you’d be ready for me,” she teased.
“Tonight’s about you,” he said. He came to her and kissed her again and pushed her down on the bed. He p
icked her up by her hips and shoved her to the middle of the bed and then gently spread her legs apart. He reached over and turned the bedside light on, pulling it closer so he could have a good look. She thought of her gray pubic hair (“I shave to get rid of it,” Vicky had confessed.”) But he was intrigued.
“Beautiful,” he said and then he took her by surprise, going down on her without any preliminary work, because, really, what could you do to a woman that was better than that?
She moaned, “Oh, God,” repeatedly while he licked her and pulled on her lips and put his fingers inside of her. It didn’t take long before she said the words she hadn’t said in years. “Oh, I’m going to come!” and he let her have it, moaning right along with her.
When she was finished she reached up for him, aiming for his crotch, but he said, repeating, “Just a minute, I’ll be right with you.” Before leaving the room for the bathroom, he reached up under the lamp shade and turned the light off.
Alice crawled up into the bed and closed her eyes, wanting the feeling of satisfaction to last as long as possible. She didn’t feel guilt or worry about doing it already. It just made sense. What was the point of being with him if she was going to resist him? She’d only be punishing herself.
In minutes, he was back next to the bed. She saw the shadow of his erect penis, and the size of it frightened her. Yikes! He snuck in beside her and cradled her, and they held each other, lying on their sides. She reached down to touch him, nervous because it had been such a long, long time. He moaned with pleasure when she touched him.
“It’s been a long time,” he whispered, saying things to her that aroused her again, telling her she was so beautiful and commenting about her lovely breasts, and then he kissed her stomach and did that thing with his tongue again. She didn’t think she’d be able to come twice in a night or want to. But she came again anyway and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to her, and he responded with his tongue. He crawled up between her legs, and she reached down to guide him in place; the sensation reminded her why she loved being with a man. He didn’t waste time, and when he came, it left her with a feeling of triumph. Later, when she reflected on the evening, she thought she remembered using the expression “Lord Jesus.” And she remembered the rubbery feel of a condom. He thought enough of her to use one.
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