Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance

by Suzanne Jenkins

“Ha! I won’t drink that much,” Terry said, laughing. “I’ll meet you in an hour. Where should we go?”

  Brenda mentioned the Irish pub where they went regularly after work. It was comfortable and unfortunately, the bartenders knew their names, not something Terry ever thought would happen to her.

  “Okay, sounds good,” Terry said. “I’ll leave in five minutes. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get down there if I don’t get lost.”

  “You know, why don’t you come to my house?” Brenda said. “I have off street parking and since we don’t have a car, you can park here. And you can see the place.”

  “Perfect! I’ll be there soon,” Terry replied.

  Freshening up in her new bathroom, the place already felt like home. Just as she left her apartment, the man who lived below her, Nurse Benny was leaving for work.

  “How nice to meet you, Terry! Earle was on the phone this afternoon as soon as he heard me stir.”

  “I hope our moving around didn’t bother you,” she said, thinking of her father squirming around and banging on the wall to install her television. “I forgot all about trying to be quiet.”

  “I wear earplugs so it was fine. Once I’m down, I’m down until it’s time to wake up,” he said. “I’m on my way to work. Where are you headed?”

  “Meeting a friend in town for a drink. Can I give you a lift?” she asked.

  “Thank you, no. The bus drops me off almost at the door, believe it or not. But thank you. And welcome home!”

  They parted ways, Benny going to the bus stop and Terry walking around to the parking area. She remembered her father’s warning about the neighborhood, but it was just dusk, and the way was well lit with motion detector lighting.

  The ride to Center City was exciting, straightforward with plenty of road signs telling her where to turn, the area even more interesting at night with the lights in the hills. The thrill of living there kept a smile on her face.

  Arriving at Brenda’s with minutes to spare, she texted warning her. Come in, Brenda answered. I’ll take you on the grand tour.

  Brenda and Larry’s ostentatious brownstone which probably cost six times what Terry’s apartment did, was furnished in the same manner with a folding table and chairs in the dining room, a sadly outdated floral sofa in the living room, and in one of the six bedrooms, a huge, new king-sized bed that looked like someone had just tumbled out of it.

  “I guess I should have made the bed,” Brenda apologized.

  “When are you going to get furniture?” Terry asked. “You owe it to your well-being to start living here like you’re going to stay.”

  “I don’t even see the furniture, to tell you the truth.”

  “Has your family been here yet? I’m sure your mother will have something to say about it,” Terry said looking around.

  “You don’t know Estelle,” Brenda answered. “She has the same crappy furniture that they bought when they were first married, eight children ago.”

  “Yeah, my mom has maple colonial stuff from the sixties. I was worried she’d offer it to me,” Terry said, grimacing.

  “I’m starving,” Brenda said. “Are you ready to party?”

  “Party or eat?” Terry said, pulling her coat on again.

  “They’re one and the same. I waited all week for this. I want fried everything.”

  The pub was only a few blocks from Brenda’s new digs. “You can walk to work,” Terry said, amazed. “That was genius.”

  “It just worked out that way,” Brenda said. “I’ve always loved Pine Street since I used to antique shop here with my grandmother.”

  They reached their destination and Terry held the door for Brenda, a big-sisterly feeling prevailing although they were the same age. Brenda’s fragile beauty made Terry want to protect her. Every male head turned when they entered the building.

  Finding a spot at the bar, they ordered and made small talk until Terry was interrupted.

  “I said I wanted to stay in touch, but running into you like this is just as good,” a male voice said.

  Terry turned to fellow University of Michigan law student Al Fallbrook. “Al! Oh my God,” she cried, and fell into his arms.

  “I swear, I was just talking about you and was going to call you soon,” he said.

  “Oh Al, this is my friend and co-worker, Brenda Lipinski,” Terry said, moving aside so Al and a shocked Brenda could visualize each other.

  “I know Brenda,” Al said, stunned, moving around Terry to hug Brenda. “We went to St. Joe’s together.”

  “Undergrad? No way!” Terry said. “Talk about a small world.”

  Brenda and Al were still embracing, Brenda pale and glassy eyed, Al whispering something to her.

  “I’m engaged to be married,” Brenda said, holding out her hand.

  Al took her hand. “Oh, wow, my loss, big time.”

  “Did you two date?” Terry asked.

  “You could say that,” Brenda answered, counting on Al for discretion.

  “Brenda and I go way back,” Al said. “But she would never make a commitment to me. This guy must be pretty special.”

  “He’s from Poland,” Brenda said, like that would explain everything.

  “Gotcha. Looking for a green card?” Al asked.

  Ha! Not exactly,” Brenda said.

  “I’d better get back to my posse,” Al said, pointing to a table with couples observing them. “I’m not engaged, but I am seeing someone special.”

  Both women said, “Oh, that’s so nice.”

  “It was great seeing you, Al. I guess this means you got a job here?” Terry asked before he slipped away.

  “I did. With the prosecutor’s office,” he answered and both women chuckled.

  “Why? Where do you work?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Brenda said, laughing. “I’m surprised our paths haven’t crossed yet.”

  “Not…” and with a look of horror, he mentioned the name of the firm they worked for.

  “You’ve got it,” Terry said.

  “Ugh,” Al replied, and they all laughed.

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll pretend I don’t know you,” Terry said. “You won’t get any trouble from me.”

  “Well, I can’t guarantee the same,” he replied, winking at her before walking off.

  “Fuck off,” Terry said to Brenda under her breath. “I’ll crucify that lowlife if I have to.”

  “You’re capable of it,” Brenda said, and then in answer to Terry’s shocked expression, “In the nicest way, of course.”

  They laughed about it for another few minutes and then Brenda got serious. So far, to her continued relief and astonishment, her moneymaking escapades from her undergrad years had not cropped up until that very minute. Telling Terry was a risk she was willing to take.

  “I have to tell you something about Al Fallbrook,” Brenda said in a low voice.

  “I’m all ears,” Terry said. “Can I use it against him in court?”

  “Not this,” she answered. “I know you would never repeat anything I ask you to keep a secret.”

  “You have my word,” Terry said, her interest piqued, signaling for the bartender again.

  “Al and I had sex,” Brenda said.

  “Okay, I figured as much. Do you think you’re the only one who had sex when they were in college?”

  “We did it for the whole four years. At least once a week, sometimes more often. I didn’t date him. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever went out with him.”

  “Brenda, everyone had a sex buddy in college,” Terry replied. “If you didn’t, you were a freak, or you had a serious boyfriend.”

  “Just listen to me,” Brenda said. “He wasn’t the only one.”

  “So you were a party girl. Big deal. Brenda, it’s the catholic-school guilt at work, I’m telling you.”

  “He paid me. They all did,” Brenda said. “It’s how I saved money for law school. It paid for three years at Penn Law. When I saw it was
Al, I almost shit myself. All I need is for those college guys to find out where I’m at and start calling me.”

  Thinking about what Brenda had just confessed, compassion for her overwhelmed Terry, and she bit her tongue to keep from reacting. This lovely young woman had prostituted herself so she could go to law school. Terry wondered how other people with limited means were able to get an education. Deciding now was not the time to investigate the subject, that ship had definitely sailed. Stick to the problem at hand.

  “You might have to get a new cell phone number,” Terry advised, understanding the concern that her phone might start ringing again if word got out that she was still in town.

  “As much as I hate to give up my old two-one-five area code, I think you’re right. What about Larry?”

  “What about him?” Terry asked.

  “Should I tell him?” Brenda asked.

  “No! You might feel relief for sixty seconds because you’re being honest, but trust me Brenda, he’s not going to want to know. Do you want to know about every sexual encounter he’s had?”

  “Ah, no. I get your point,” she said, emptying her glass. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They reached for their coats, simultaneously dug through their wallets for cash, threw it on the bar and left before Al Fallbrook decided to introduce them to his special someone.

  Chapter 5

  After returning to the safety of Brenda’s house, they ordered pizza and talked until eleven.

  “Don’t leave,” Brenda begged when Terry got up and reached for her coat.

  “Oh, honey, I’m excited about spending the first night in my new house. It will give me a chance to see the neighborhood at night, too. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Thank you again,” Brenda said.

  They embraced and then Brenda stood in the door and watched Terry get into her car and back down the driveway.

  When she was out of sight, Brenda went back inside and called Larry.

  “I was wondering if I’d hear from you tonight,” he said.

  “Terry just left. I was worried I’d wake you,” Brenda replied.

  “No worries about that. It’s been the usual Saturday night in the big city ER. I might close my eyes for a few minutes until the bars close when the bulk of our business comes in. I thought you were going to O’Dell’s.”

  “We did,” she said. “They changed their bar food menu and we didn’t feel like sitting in the dining room. We got pizza here instead and I have leftovers.”

  “Yum. I’ll have some for breakfast.”

  “I miss you, Larry. I can’t wait for you to get back home,” Brenda said, partly out of guilt, but really meaning it.

  “I miss you, too,” he said. “I’m really missing our Saturday night special.”

  “Do you want to have phone sex?” she asked, a first.

  “Ha! Yes I do, but I’m sitting at the triage desk and there’re Philadelphia cops all over the place. I don’t think it would go over too well.”

  “Well, tomorrow after you have a shower, a nap, and a slice, I’m going to ravish you,” she said. “I’ll even lick your balls like you like.”

  She could hear him smothering laughter, and it brought her the first relief she had since seeing creepy Al Fallbrook.

  “Is that right,” he finally said. “Well now I can’t wait to get home.”

  “I love you, Larry,” she said.

  “I love you, too. See you in the morning.”

  After they hung up, she got a burst of energy and straightened up the apartment. Maybe she’d do what Terry suggested and take an interest in their home. It would mean a lot to Larry, who was the kindest man. At that moment, she’d do anything in her power to make him happy.

  Terry turned off Lincoln Drive onto Mount Pleasant at midnight. The streets were empty, some houses dark for a Saturday night. A group of young people hanging out on a corner smoking gave her a sense of peace rather than fear, a similar scene in the northeast a common sight on the weekend. Her car chugged up the hill; it was that steep. She had to look for her driveway tucked in by the stone retaining walls which had effectively held back the huge lawns and giant houses for more than a century.

  The motion-detector lights pinged on as she drove slowly down the narrow driveway. Hopefully, Earle’s bedroom had light-canceling drapery. A man stood in the window watching her in the imposing house next door. She hadn’t met those neighbors yet.

  Without looking up, she scurried down the driveway after parking her car, embarrassed to be observed coming in so late, but the man knocked on the window. She had to look up and he smiled, and pulled an older woman next to him who also smiled and waved. They gave her the thumbs-up after she waved to them, and watched her until she was safely on her porch. They were just keeping an eye on her safety.

  Quietly inserting the skeleton key in the door, she heard the now familiar click of the lock. Tiptoeing up the staircase, she’d remember to be quiet in her apartment, too. Opening that door, the blast of warm, fragrant air came out to greet her.

  Hanging her coat up, she looked around, pleased. Quickly changing into sweatpants, she got the half-full bottle of wine leftover from her parents’ visit earlier that day, intending on finishing it off. With a wineglass in hand, she went to the big round window and sat on the window seat. For the next hour, she watched her neighborhood, becoming familiar with its ebb and flow of activity.

  The young couple across the street went to bed early and woke up early, even on the weekends. Next to them was an older, widowed man whose lights were on until the wee hours. Oddly, even though they wouldn’t meet until the following summer, she was comforted seeing his lights on at night when she had insomnia. Her next-door neighbors were night owls, too.

  At three a.m., an hour after last call, the final bus of the evening stopped to pick up the late-nighters, and the last riders coming in from Center City on the late train. Those stragglers would run up the hill to catch the bus, their appearance ensured after the sounds of the train disappeared into the night.

  During that first night of observations, Terry fell in love with her neighborhood, immediately becoming part of its fabric. Her house had its own heartbeat, too: Earle, always home, hosting dinner parties and Sunday brunch, inviting the neighbors in for tea and to view his latest art piece, almost always landscapes of the neighborhood. Benny worked all night but was home all day, his life slightly mysterious, but seemingly benign, as was Benny. And now Terry, attorney by day, silent observer by night. Leaving her apartment for anything but work slowly became anathema.

  “Are you becoming agoraphobic?” Brenda asked, concerned.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I have no trouble leaving for work or to see my folks or to come out with you after work. But once I’m home on the weekend, it’s painful to leave. I just want to stay there.”

  “I wish I felt that way about our house,” Brenda replied. “I can’t wait to leave on the weekend. Poor Larry wants to relax with his sweatpants on and watch TV and I’m dressed and ready to leave by breakfast.”

  On that first Saturday night, Terry finished off the bottle of wine and debated opening another, when she remembered she wanted to shop for furniture, so she grabbed her computer instead and went to one of her favorite sites, which offered everything she needed, from a couch and tables to lamps, an easy chair with ottoman, a bed and headboard and a small table and chairs for the kitchen. Shopping for a dresser another day at the used furniture shops along Germantown Avenue was more appealing than buying something she’d have to put together.

  By four, she’d finished buying everything she needed. Yawning, she stretched and took one last look out the window. A light rain was falling, just enough to make the street shine in the lamplight. It was perfect sleeping weather.

  Earlier that day, she and her mother had made up the blow-up mattress in the bedroom. It already looked like a bedroom, with her pillows and an afghan her grandmother had crocheted thrown across the foot. Brushin
g her teeth in the bathroom felt like home. She wound her hair into a ponytail and didn’t waste any more time before getting into bed. Within seconds, she was snoring in her cave of a bedroom.

  The next morning, Sunday, was a gray, wet day, perfect for staying indoors. If she were living at home with Harry and Elizabeth, she’d have felt compelled to meet friends in town for brunch, or take a cab to Arvin’s apartment and have sex before making eggs and toast in his dingy, cramped kitchen. The need to leave no longer existed. As a matter of fact, she had to force herself to shower and dress - another pair of clean sweatpants, a sign she wasn’t going far.

  Instead, she got out her computer again and searched for the nearest grocery store. Luckily, it was right around the corner, a large newer Acme. She’d be starting from square one; she didn’t even have salt. Maybe she’d better drive, she thought. It would be too much to haul home on foot.

  Before Terry got too comfortable lounging on her window seat, she headed out to the Acme and an hour later, returned with enough food to last her more than a week. Lugging ten bags of groceries up two flights of stairs would become part of her workout. Leaving the comfort of her own new home also precluded going to the gym, the membership a ridiculous expenditure made mostly to get out from under her mom and dad’s protective gaze.

  Digging a large stew pot out of her kitchen boxes, she decided to make chili, about as comforting a meal she could imagine on a rainy and cold fall day in her new house.

  Wiping tears off her face after dicing a particularly strong onion, Terry was headed back to the window seat to watch marathons of her favorite Netflix series on her iPad when her cell phone rang. Reaching to the card table for it, she frowned. It was Arvin.

  “I hear you moved out of mommy and daddy’s house and I’m the last to know,” he whined.

  “You knew I was looking,” she said, flicking off the iPad. “It’s not my fault you didn’t care enough about what I was doing to take a moment to stay in touch.”

  Tired of his shenanigans, Terry was in no mood to try to placate Arvin. “Well, I care enough that I’m calling you now,” he said. “Brenda told me you moved to Germantown. Why? Of all the places in the city, why move up there?”