Walk on Water

by Garner, Josephine

  “You guys are doing a wonderful job,” I said attempting to make small talk with her.

  “Thank-you,” she said courteously. “Would you care for some champagne?”

  I was carrying a glass of white wine.

  “No thanks,” I replied.

  “Oh,” she said noting my beverage. “I can get you some more white wine.”

  “No-no, that’s okay.”

  It wasn’t more wine I was seeking, but she was looking at me as if that was all she had to offer, indicating quite clearly that I didn’t fit in with her either.

  “Excuse me ma’am,” the young woman ultimately said, reminding me in three respectful little words, punctuated by her action of walking away, that she had no communion with me.

  Luke was on the other side of the room by fully engaged in a conversation with a group of people, one of whom was a woman in a chicer black dress than mine. It was made of velvet and it stopped mid-thigh, revealing the kind of long legs that were worthy of bikinis. Her high heels no doubt helped. I watched as she kept putting her hand on Luke’s shoulder, at times leaning into him a little when she laughed. If I rejoined him now it might make me seem threatened, and while I was, I was not about to show it. Besides in college it had constantly been this way, some pretty woman—or women—consuming Luke’s attention throughout the party until it came time to leave, and he would take me home. I could handle it. Moreover tonight, this time, he was my novio.

  Near the fireplace Mr. Sterling was making some kind of point and jabbing his finger emphatically in the air. He was the only other person I knew here (besides Mrs. Sterling and now Anita), but I didn’t really want to go to him either. So for the time being I was just on my own, increasingly more aware of my deficits in comparison. I sipped my white wine. Perhaps I could get a refill for something to do.

  Moving to the table where the wine was being served, I was surprised to find the clerk with the thick gray beard from Siegel’s Wine Shoppe staffing it.

  “Hello!” I said as if I had found a long-lost friend. “I know you don’t remember me.”

  He grinned warmly.

  “Sure I do,” he said. “You’re the young lady who couldn’t decide whether to buy a bottle of red or a bottle of white.”

  “That must describe almost every customer you see,” I laughed.

  He laughed too as he took my glass, putting it away under the table.

  “It was a Saturday afternoon, early,” he went on. “I told you to trust your judgment and have what you like. You told me I made it sound simple.”

  “Okay, so you do remember,” I smiled, a little amazed at his recall.

  “Do you?” he asked.

  A tiny current rushed through me as if I had touched a hot wire.

  “It is simple,” the wine clerk/wine server repeated his counsel, his eyes twinkling as he poured me a glass of red wine. “But not easy, like I told you.” He handed me the full glass. “You have a nice evening.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  Someone else touched me on the arm prompting me to turn away for a moment. An older woman with cascades of silver hair and lightly rouged cheeks was smiling at me.

  “It’s Rachel, right?” the woman asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” I said, surprised that she knew my name. “Have we met?”

  “If we did it’s too long ago for me to remember,” she chuckled. “I’m Doris. Doris Burnside. Luke said I should talk to you.”

  “Oh—okay.”

  He had sent someone to my rescue. How chivalrous, and how sad. Little Orphan Annie. Maybe I was a charity case.

  “Don’t look so alarmed,” Doris smiled again. “I’m not looking for professional help, well not like that anyway. Luke told me you’re a family guidance counselor. I’m planning to go back to school, to get my Master’s Degree in counseling. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m happy to—”

  “Great!” she interrupted me. “Let’s find a place where we can hear each other. I don’t know about you, but I’d be willing to pay money for a footstool to park my butt on right now.”

  Hooking her arm with mine, Doris proceeded to lead me away from the wine table. When I looked back to say goodbye to my bearded friend, he was gone.

  Doris clearly knew her away around the Sterling house because she took us straight down a hallway away from the crowd to the study, a darkly paneled room that smelled faintly of cigar smoke, and where the early American furniture had survived the latest style upgrade. Managing not to spill her glass of wine, Doris dropped down on the big over-stuffed sofa and patted the dark brown cushion next to her.

  “Now isn’t this better?” she said as I sat down. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Betty like a sister, but God, she can get entirely too wrapped up in the latest Architectural Digest sometimes. At least Tom is standing his ground about one room in this house, poor thing.”

  Doris kicked off her gold pumps and flexed her silk-hose covered feet before scrunching her toes into the oriental rug in front of the sofa.

  “Forgive me,” she apologized. “But this feels good. I keep telling Betty that all this standing around making chit-chat over drinks is for the young. There comes a time in life when parties need to be sit-down affairs.” She took a drink of wine. “You’ll see,” she added smiling pleasantly.

  I smiled back already starting to like Doris.

  “So you’re going back to school?” I asked.

  “Yes I am,” she declared proudly.

  “That’s terrific.”

  “Oh I don’t know how terrific it is,” she demurred. “But it is something I want to do. Something I’ve been wanting to do. When my Edgar passed away four years ago, it left me with nothing but time on my hands. He was sick a long time before he died and mostly I took care of him myself. Anyway, since he’s been gone I’ve been spending my time sitting on this or that board. You know, for various charities, schools, etcetera. But it just isn’t enough for me. I want to do something hands-on. I suppose it’s all that time taking care of Edgar. It was hard work but I tell you honestly I never felt better about myself. Not even when I was raising my children. I really felt needed, and I want to feel that way again. I thought about going to nursing school, but what are the odds of some hospital hiring a sixty-plus-plus nurse? So I’ve decided to be a counselor. I want to work with troubled teen-agers. It’s a shame what some them have to go through. I was thinking about the criminal justice system. But you know, get in early with them before it’s too late.”

  If Doris was truly was sixty-plus-plus then she might have a difficulty getting hired anywhere, I was thinking, but she looked vibrant and enthusiastic, and she was probably sufficiently set financially to be able to work for little or nothing. I shared with her what I knew about good Master’s programs in the area, and gave her my thoughts about where I believed the field was going.

  “One on one counseling will always have its place,” I explained. “But the focus also has to be on the environment, the family, the community, society. Like if you look at child prostitution for example, I don’t mean the little ones, everybody agrees that they are innocent victims, but I’m talking about the adolescents, the ones who are almost adults. It’s not for a good time like some people think, or even for drugs, some of it—maybe most of it—is just for survival, for food, shelter. All the kids on the streets are not run-aways, some of them have been thrown—”

  “I know!” exclaimed Doris grabbing my arm excitedly. “I see it all the time. I hear people say, why don’t they just go home. Well, they have no home to go to. It’s heartbreaking! We have to do something about it, Rachel.”

  “We do,” I agreed.

  “Oh, Rachel,” Doris sighed sitting back against the sofa. “I’m really glad we got to talk. I was just about to get out of here, but Luke said I needed to meet you.” She looked at me. “You should hear the way he talks about your work. You must be a veritable saint. He said you were pass
ionate, but naturally I thought maybe he was just being passionate himself,” she winked at me. “About you.”

  My cheeks were burning once again.

  “He’s very kind,” I said.

  “Kind?” repeated Doris skeptically. “Is that what young people call it these days?”

  “Well I’m not very young either,” I reminded her.

  “Well no,” she agreed. “Neither of you are spring chickens.” She grinned. “But it’s still your summertime. And look at me, I’m going back to college to start a whole new career, or rather to have one in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, being a wife and mother is wonderful, and now I’m a grandmother too, but I’m ready to be a me. I might have at least fifteen decent years left for that. Now you and Luke, you’ve got at least three times that much.”

  I looked down and took a drink from my glass. Having just made it to novia, I couldn’t dare let myself think about anything beyond that.

  “What’s the matter, Rachel?” queried Doris. “You’re not planning on long-term?”

  I returned my eyes to hers, and there was deep wrinkle in her brow. I didn’t know this woman at all. Maybe she was a Betty Sterling plant, someone sent to gain my confidence so that I would spill my guts providing information to be used against me. Wasn’t that the plot of every cop show on TV? Yet I wanted to tell her the truth, to finally say yes, I was planning on long-term, or rather I was dreaming about it, hoping for it. Basically I was prepared to spend the rest of my life resigned to just being on Luke’s team, his friend, and God help me—even his fuck-buddy. So getting novia-status was the best Christmas gift he could have given me.

  And none of that was what Doris was talking about. She was talking about what she and her Edgar had had. I envied her that, but I was happy for her too. If Mommy had had an Edgar she might have been so much happier and I would have had a father.

  “I love him, Doris,” I heard myself admitting for the first time ever out loud to another human being. “But that doesn’t mean I get…His moth—”

  Doris pressed a wrinkled but soft finger to my lips, silencing me.

  “Have what you like, Rachel,” she said, reminding me of the wine clerk/wine server. “It’s your choice this time. So trust your judgment, and don’t you dare let anybody persuade you otherwise.”

  I desperately wanted to believe her, but how could I? I felt my eyes welling. Doris squeezed my hand supportively.

  “Let me tell you something about Betty Sterling,” she said. “I’ve been her friend for almost fifty years. I know her, maybe better than she knows herself. That kind of thing happens when you love somebody for that long.

  “For a long time Betty and Tom thought they weren’t going to have any children. Then Luke came along, but the doctors told her no more. So she poured everything she had into that child. Yes, she’s the worst perfectionist you’ll ever meet, but she’s no harder on anyone than she is on herself. And so she made that boy perfect or tried to anyway.

  “When Luke had the accident, she dropped everything and went to him. She was gone for months. Tom would visit all the time, but Betty stayed. I know what you’re going to say, any mother would do that, but Betty believed that she had to succeed where the doctors and Christina could not. She was determined that boy would walk again. He had to be perfect again. But it didn’t work out that way, and it almost killed her. You see, she had never failed at anything in her life, and now when it mattered the most, she had failed.

  “She came back here and took to her bed for I don’t know how long. It was like somebody had died to her. I guess somebody had, her idea of who Luke was. Then when he and Christina divorced and he moved back to Dallas…Well…You know how people talk. They said Christina divorced him because he was a cripple. Never mind that people get divorced all the time for all kinds of reasons. I suppose attributing it to him being disabled made him an object of pity. Elizabeth Sterling couldn’t handle that, people feeling sorry for her child. She convinced herself that if Luke would only try harder, then he could walk again, and get his perfect life back. Then Christina would want him back. He was supposed to show them, or Betty would. Well, you see how that turned out. She thinks Luke let her down. She blames him for giving up.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense, Doris,” I said. “You know Luke, if he could he would. He doesn’t like failure either.”

  Doris shook her head.

  “He’s Betty’s child,” she replied. “To the core. But you’re the trained counselor, Rachel. You’d be out of a job if people made sense. So anyway, they’re kind of stuck in this preposterous death-match. But really it’s not Luke fault. He’s just trying to accept what happened and get on with his life.”

  “She wants him back with Christina,” I said dejectedly. “Is that why she hates me?”

  “I don’t know that she hates you, Rachel. And no, I don’t think she truly wants him to be with Christina. You don’t have any children, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “No brothers?” asked Doris.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen it in your work, the way mothers can be about their sons. And Luke’s an only child too. There’s not a woman in the world, including Christina, that can be good enough for him in her eyes. Except herself. The thing is,” Doris hesitated before going on. “Now in a way, she doesn’t think he’s good enough for her.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said.

  “I know,” Doris sighed. “It does seem that way. But it’s really because she insists that Luke has a choice. She thinks that if he would just try harder, he would get better. It could be that what she hates is what you represent to her: a compromise. People will say he turned to you because Christina left him.”

  “That I’m his consolation prize,” I added using Mommy’s words.

  “Okay,” agreed Doris. “That’s one way of putting it. But Betty’s on the outside looking in. What matters is what you and Luke think. What if you’re his grand prize? The one he’s meant to be with. The one he’s always wanted.”

  I couldn’t imagine that. That Luke might really love me like that, the way I loved him.

  “Él es mi novio,” I said, trying to claim the possibility anyway.

  “What does that mean?” asked Doris.

  I smiled.

  “That you’ll also need to take a Spanish course,” I replied.

  Doris chuckled and then leaned back against the cushion again.

  “I’ve probably told you way too much about this family,” she confessed. “But I am not a gossip.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured her leaning back against the cushions too. “Client confidentiality is also part of the training.”

  We shared a laugh.

  “It’s just that I got a very good feeling about you, Rachel Cunningham,” said Doris. “I see the effect you’re having on Luke. It’s been a long time since he’s been this happy. He was always such a good boy. It broke my heart too when he got hurt. I categorically hate cell phones.”

  “People have to be careful with them,” I said.

  “And put them down sometimes.”

  We were quiet for a moment.

  “We’re going to be good friends, you and I,” Doris declared when she spoke again. “I want you to be my mentor,” she said patting my hand warmly.

  “If you’ll be mine,” I replied smiling at her.

  “Done,” she said. “Now do you think I’m going to be able to put these shoes back on,” she wanted to know, kicking one of the gold pumps.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, a little concerned. “Do your feet swell?”

  “Honey, there comes a time in every woman’s life when swollen feet is the normal state of affairs. If you’re smart you learn to buy bigger shoes.”

  “They do say you should only go shoe-shopping in the afternoon just in case.”

  “Here you are,” said Luke appearing at the door to his father’s study. “I wondered where you we
re.”

  “Not hiding in the bathroom,” I said beaming at him as he came into the room.

  “She’s been counseling me,” said Doris. “When I grow up I want to be just like Rachel.”

  “Like you’ll ever grow up, Dot,” Luke laughed.

  “Hey,” Doris giggled herself. “You watch your manners.”

  Rolling over to the sofa, Luke reached down and picked up Doris’ shoes, setting them in his lap.

  “Put your shoes on ol’ lady,” he scolded. “This is a very high-brow occasion.”

  “Well give your ol’ Aunt Dot a hand,” she replied, plopping her feet onto his lap too.

  Watching Luke gently massage Doris’ feet before she stuck them back into her shoes, which he held for her as though she were Cinderella, I fell another whole league deeper in love with him, and a little in love with Doris as well.

  “We should probably get going,” he then said to me while Doris playfully kicked her heels together.

  “The night is young, my dears,” Doris informed us.

  “Maybe, but I need to get out of this chair,” replied Luke stretching his back and shifting his weight, the action seeming to cause his left leg to shake in a brief spasm which all three of us ignored.

  “Tsk, tsk,” said Doris standing up. “Excuses, excuses. Just tell the truth. You need to get away from us. I don’t blame you.” She winked at me again. “If my Edgar were here I’d be needing the same thing.”

  “You’re a dirty old woman, Dot,” Luke charged with a grin.

  “And I used to be a dirty young one. I’ll call you tomorrow. I want Rachel’s phone number. She’s agreed to be my mentor. So you must share her, Lucas Sterling, you got that.” She wagged her finger at him. “I don’t want to have to fight with you but I will. Good night, my dears.”

  And swollen feet or not, Doris—or Dot—sashayed out of the room.

  THIRTY

  I lay across Luke, my head resting on his chest, and watched his clock radio creep steadily towards the hour when I’d have to get up and leave him. It was Sunday morning. Mommy would be waiting. Besides, novia or not, I couldn’t stay here like this all day—or forever. I sighed and Luke soothingly stroked my back. Don’t be greedy, Rachel, I told myself.