“You are very welcome Helen. I hope you are feeling much better. Chelsea told me it was a concussion,” Teresa said.
“Yes I feel a lot better. When the doctor heard that we were moving, he advised that I stay here until Jamie is done with everything, so I’ll be here for two more days. I don’t even know what we would have done without your help,” Helen said. She always admired Teresa from a distance. The woman had everything together. A perfect home with a perfect husband and children, a complete contrast to her series of woes disguised as a life. She didn’t bring up the fact that they just lost their mortgage; it was embarrassing and she knew it. She also knew she didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.
“Alright then, I guess I’ll be seeing you here soon,” Teresa said, not that she intended to be spending any time with Helen. It was good that they could access the basement from the side door. Thankfully it would be like living in separate houses. She didn’t want any encroachment on her privacy and besides, what could she have in common with a Bluewood Village resident? She placed the phone on the round wooden garden table that was host to a bottle of wine and a glass.
She thought about the argument she had with Chelsea about the whole idea of allowing people she barely knew to live in their basement. Even though they attended the same church and Jamie had attended the same Catholic school as Chelsea, she still didn’t know much about Helen’s background. “I can’t just allow people I barely know into the house like that,” she said. Chelsea said it would be criminal not to help one way or the other, but what really persuaded her to change her mind was when Chelsea said, “Are you sure you want people in town to think of you as the woman who had the means to help but didn’t?” She emailed her estranged husband to see if he was OK with it and he said yes.
As the soft breeze caressed her feet, Teresa stretched, yawned and rubbed her eyes nursing the idea of getting something to eat but the kitchen seemed too far so she gave up that ambition. She dusted the fragments of a dry leaf off of her white bathrobe. For some reason something she smelled triggered a craving for her favorite breakfast meal: pumpkin waffles with maple-walnut cream. Maybe it was just the hunger. She was too lazy to cook again that morning anyway. She made scrambled eggs and toast just for Tyler so he could have something to eat before he went to school. She didn’t feel like eating eggs and Chelsea didn’t like eating breakfast.
Then she remembered the leftover chocolate chip zuchini bread she baked the day before and decided it would be good enough with a cup of sweet tea. She hid the rest from Tyler and Chelsea. Unlike their father, they both liked anything she baked. At first she thought it was because of his diabetes but she later realized he really just didn’t like pastries. How in the world did she miss that after twenty-five years of marriage? That was just one of the many things they were now discovering about each other. Sometimes he looked at her strangely and asked questions like “Do I know you anymore?” She had questions of her own too. Why wasn’t he as ambitious as he used to be anymore? Why did he stop enjoying the thrill that success had always given them?
Teresa didn’t want anybody from church or the community for that matter asking questions about her husband’s absence from the home, so she was going to have to be careful with Helen. Chelsea knew about the separation but they had been careful enough not to let Tyler know because he was very attached to his father and they weren't sure how he would react. If it was left to Cameron, they would have told Tyler by now but Helen vehemently opposed the idea.
The only perception she wanted people in Elmtown to have of her and her family was one of perfection–a happy and successful unit. She knew she could handle it though, if Helen ever asked she was going to tell her exactly what they told Tyler. It was simple. Cameron was away doing business in New Jersey, that was it and she thought people needed to mind their own business. They still needed time to sort out their differences and if they could finally work through them successfully, it would be like he had completed his project in New Jersey and rejoined her in Elmtown.
She poured some more red wine into her cup, inhaled its aroma, took a sip and held it in her mouth before swallowing. It was soft on the tongue and it warmed her throat gently. She always preferred her wines light-bodied. Cameron and Chelsea didn’t drink much but when they did, they preferred those full-bodied ones that tasted like drinking acid to her. Eeew! she thought. They allowed Chelsea to start sharing their wine since eighteen was the legal age for drinking in England. It was interesting to her that now that they were back in the US, Chelsea could not legally drink until her twenty-first birthday.
Taste in wine aside, there were things she just didn’t understand about her dear daughter. First, Chelsea didn’t know how the world worked because she ignored class and social hierarchy. Not a single one of the boyfriends Chelsea dated in London impressed Teresa. They were either from working class English families or they were from poor immigrant families. She wondered what she had done wrong while bringing up her daughter. What a relief it was when she brought John home that evening.
Even before she found out who the boy really was, she already knew from his appearance that he was one that belonged to the upper class. God answered her prayers, finally, someone deserving of her daughter. One day she too would be able to dine with the rich folks in the Hamptons. That had always been her dream, to wine and dine with the filthy rich of New York. She thanked the Lord everyday for bringing John Stanley into her daughter’s life. In her opinion, that deserved a thousand Hail Marys.
Teresa thought that Cameron Braithwaite-the man for whose ambition she chose to marry-would have at least been able to make more than a mere half a million dollars a year at this stage of their lives. Even some doctors make more than that, she thought. But he lost all that entrepreneurial passion she saw in him when she first met him, when he wanted to take over the world. Something had changed in him.
She didn’t know why he suddenly looked like he was no longer satisfied. She told him all he needed was to expand the company and be more successful but it seemed he didn’t share that hunger with her anymore. He didn’t seem to care about how much investment they lost in England after the Lehmann Brothers collapse. If he continued like that, if he continued to show this disinterest (which she called a despicable passiveness to his face), she was going to take over the company from him and run it by herself.
“Hi Mom, isn’t it too early to be drinking?” Chelsea asked, jolting Teresa out of her whirl of thoughts. She walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“It’s almost eleven honey,” Teresa said defensively.
“I see. I’m off to school. By the way, I’m meeting up with Jamie in the evening. He needs help with the moving so I told John not to bother coming for dinner today as we had planned.”
“You cancelled on John? Why in the world would you do that? I was looking forward to having dinner with you two.”
“Mom, I just told you why. Jamie needs help with the moving today. We can have dinner another evening!”
“Let me get this straight. You are cancelling on your boyfriend because of Jamie? Are you out of your mind? Haven’t you offered enough help already? You can’t do everything for people you know. He is a man–he should be able to do things for himself. I just hate it when people have this...this...this entitled mentality,” she said rolling her eyes.
“Mom...ummm...I don’t really get why this is such a big deal. Even John said he might come over to help if he could. What’s wrong with helping Jamie move? Come on, Mom it’s not that serious. I gotta go. Seems you’ve had too much to drink already.” She readjusted her bag and brought out her car keys from her back pocket. “See you later.” She darted off before her mother said anything that could give her a stomach churning feeling again. She loved her mother but sometimes the woman said things that made her feel like she was adopted or something, they thought so differently about certain things in life.
“Watch your mouth young lady,” Teresa said and looked away.
She took another sip of her wine as Chelsea walked away. She wished Chelsea was more like her than Cameron. Life should be run as a business, not a charity.
8
As nights evaporated into days and days froze back into nights, the next two weeks went by swiftly with Jamie and his mother settling down into their temporary home. They were given the keys to a side door that gave them access to the stairs leading to the basement apartment. With some help from Chelsea, Jerome and a truck from U-Haul, Jamie moved their things down–except all their furniture which he quickly sold for some much needed cash. It all happened so fast there was hardly any time for grief.
Helen who decided against going to look at the house for the last time was released from the hospital the next day after Jamie had completed their move. She also finally got a job days later. It was a small gig with a recruitment agency that supplied temps to stores and warehouses downtown, sending her to different locations every now and then. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing at all. The money would be enough to at least rent a studio or a small apartment by the end of November. “You get a job after you lose your house. Perfect timing,” she said to Jamie shaking her head.
Jamie refocused on schoolwork and didn’t see much of Chelsea except for one night when he saw her outside the house coming out of John’s car. She was clad in a lovely beige dress so he thought they had likely gone out for a fancy formal dinner or something, not that such details were his business anyway. He had slowly given up any ideas of having a chance with her and was not going to let her know how he really felt about her.
She was happy with her boyfriend and if he really cared, if he was going to be unselfish, he had to let her be. However, it was hard to stop himself from thinking about her, from wanting to spend time with her, from wanting to hold her in his arms and hoping to kiss those beautiful lips one day. He caught himself many times imagining these things, lying in bed in the basement, wondering what she was doing upstairs. At first, the idea of living close to her made a part of his heart skip in excitement, but now that they moved, the whole situation felt like a food-loving waiter finally getting a job at a high-end restaurant where the food was beyond his means.
On the twenty-fifth of September, at 5:30, Jamie waited in Malcolm Vale University’s East Campus parking lot. He checked what time it was on his phone and sighed, he didn’t want to be late for work. He finished his stat class ten minutes before 5:00 p.m. but Jerome was now running late. After ten months of working at Mr. Guerini’s jazz nightclub, they both knew getting to work late was in Guerini’s words, “completely unacceptable,” especially if you were a member of the band. The music was the main attraction so the old man was stricter with the band than with any of his other staff members.
It took another five minutes before Jerome finally arrived.
“What took you so long? We are gonna be late if we hit traffic,” Jamie said as he entered the car in haste, dumping his backpack on the back seat.
“Sorry bro. Dr. Martinez was giving me feedback about my cover letter. I gotta cover all my bases before turning in the applications next week,” Jerome said in his Southern accent. He was the president of the music club (first African American to hold that role at MVU), which also added to his busy life. He sported a mohawk and had a tattoo on his arm that said “music is life” in Chinese. It only showed when he wore tee shirts so he had no worries about it being seen when he started work.
“OK, but If you had told me, I would have taken the bus. You know I can’t afford to lose this job right?” Jamie asked.
“I know, I know, relax. I’ll get us there in no time,” Jerome said. He knew how far that weekly sixty bucks went for Jamie. “Who’s playing the drums today? Seems Matt canceled last minute, he’s down with some kinda virus.”
“Steve got a new guy, they used to play together years ago, he rehearsed all the songs with him this morning so we’re good. According to him, the guy is pretty good. Loves contemporary jazz so no problem there,” Jamie said. He placed his hands on the dashboard and said loudly, “Hey...hey, relax, don’t get us killed before we get there.” They had overtaken two cars in the space of a few seconds.
“Told you I ain’t playing. We’re not getting there late.”
“I’m afraid we might not even get there at all with this speed of yours,” Jamie said relaxing back into his seat.
“Tsk tsk...I’m one of the safest drivers you’ll ever meet and you know that,” Jerome said then remembered what Jamie told him the day before. “Hey so I get to meet Chelsea today? She’s coming to the club tonight right?”
“Yeah, she’ll be there tonight.”
“Nice...nice. So I finally get to meet your girl.”
“She is not my girl,” Jamie said shaking his head. “She’s just a really close friend that happens to be a girl.”
“Thats just bull. I reckon you’ve been in love with that girl for a long time. Gotta fight for your girl man.”
“Well I reckon you must have watched a British show last night where the word ‘reckon’ was used in a way you’ve never heard before. Now you’re trying to show off because you’ve learnt a new word, eh?”
“I reckon you’re just trying to avoid the real issue at hand. You are in love with that girl and I think you need to tell her. It’s obvious from your history you guys are meant for each other. I don’t think anyone can love her the way you do. I don’t care who that boyfriend of hers is. You are her best friend and I reckon that’s a recipe for a great relationship. That’s the last time I’m saying that word today. People say reckon a lot in the South by the way. I didn’t even know it was common with British people.”
“My history with her? You’re funny. So from the little I’ve said to you about her, the only conclusion you could come up with is that we are meant for each other? What are you, Nostradamus? You’ve never even seen her before dude,” Jamie said. But he knew Jerome was right. It was true that Jerome was always very playful, appeared unserious at times, a true sanguine personality but he was rarely wrong about these types of things.
***
Chelsea sat in the passenger’s seat as they drove off in Amy’s yellow Volkswagen Bug at 6:50. John was going to meet with them at the nightclub around half past seven; he had a group meeting to attend on campus.
They drove off Carter Street onto Route 56 which would take them straight into the downtown area.
“Hey how did your day go at school?” Amy asked.
“Good,” Chelsea said. She saw an old couple in track pants, waiting at an intersection, giggling and holding hands in the cool evening, smiling so happily. They looked content. There was something about the woman’s demeanour, a sparkle in her eyes and the way she blushed just like a teenage girl who started dating the boy of her dreams. Then she recognised them, it was Mr. and Mrs. Davenport.
“How do you know if someone is meant for you?” Chelsea asked as Amy pressed the pedal, responding to the green light.
“Huh?” Amy looked surprised by the question. “Where did that come from?”
“Did you see that couple?”
“Yes, at the intersection? They looked cute.”
“The woman used to teach Sunday school when I was like ten. I don’t know, they just always look really happy with each other, like they just fell in love or something. That’s what I want. And I was just thinking, how do you know if someone is your soulmate?”
“Soulmate? You believe in that ‘one person is meant for you’ idea?”
“I don’t know. Just wondering how people know this is who they wanna spend the rest of their lives with. Don’t you think about that yet?”
“To be honest, I do sometimes. But, I don’t know hun...I honestly don’t know. I guess I’ll find out when I get there.”
They stopped at a gas station, bought gas, picked up some mints, two cans of coke and headed downtown. Chelsea then quickly touched up her make up for the rest of the drive. The question kept coming back to her mind like a tidal
wave at sea.
The other side of Route 56 was heavy with traffic, lots of people driving back home from work. Fortunately, they were driving against traffic so they were going to make it in time.
“I guess you were right Amy, I’m still twenty-three, what’s the point of thinking about that now right? But one thing is for sure, and I’m no expert at these things, but I’m certain I want the opposite of whatever my parents have.”
“Aww Chelsea...don’t talk like that, your dad takes good care of his wife and kids. I enjoyed his company the few times I met him. He’s a really nice guy. What do you mean?”
“He’s not a bad person. I just don’t think they are meant for each other. I started noticing when we moved to England–it felt like two people sharing a roof but living in two separate worlds. And my mom always tries to act like everything is fine, like she’s got everything all together. So he’s supposedly in New Jersey for business but I know it’s just them trying not to live with each other, I think he’s tired of faking it while Mom just wants to keep behaving like all is well. You can’t hide shit like that from your kids. They’ll eventually find out.”
“Wow...I’m sorry.” Amy didn’t know what to say.
“Shit, I just spoiled my make up,” Chelsea said, dabbing her face with the tissue she found on the side of the car door. “I’m probably just overreacting,” she said laughing.
“At least you’ve experienced something that at least resembles a normal family life. Just be thankful for that hun. My mother kept changing men like accessories, sometimes I wonder if she’s sure Dad is my real father.”
They both laughed.
The nightclub was between a closed furniture showroom and a newly opened Turkish restaurant on Unity Street, the popular nightclub strip in Elmtown. They parked behind the building. The cool evening breeze hit their faces and naked shoulders as they walked away from the car, their high heels clip-clopping like horseshoes.
An Autumn to Remember: A Novel (Elmtown Series Book 1) Page 6
