Walk on Water

by Garner, Josephine

  My face felt hot. And she had no idea that the vaginal intercourse was delicious too.

  “Flag on the play, Corrine,” I said. “That was foul.”

  “I thought you’d want to go dancing,” she sulked. “You used to like to. We used to have so much fun. Come on, stay, Rachel. Luke won’t know about you going clubbing. And like they say, what happens in LA stays in LA.”

  “They say that about Vegas.”

  “Same principle.”

  “And Luke doesn’t care if I go dancing.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said switching the TV channel.

  “I mean it, Corrine. Luke’s not like that.”

  “He’s a man, Rae. You think he wants you gyrating around with some other studly-do-right, all the while knowing he can’t. Please.”

  Grabbing the remote from her, I shut off the television.

  “He’s not like that,” I said glaring at her. “And he doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m not like that either.”

  “So I see,” she replied coolly. “His handicap your handicap. I get it. You love him. But damn, Rae, at least wait until he gives you a ring before you sign up for the parking permit.”

  “It really means that much to you,” I asked, sitting down on the second bed opposite her. “Me staying and going out with you guys?”

  Corrine took the remote back and turned the television back on. I waited. After all we were both trained counselors. She was saying cruel things only because she was hurt.

  “Okay,” she admitted crossly. “It does. I hardly see you anymore. We don’t meet for lunch. We don’t work-out.”

  “But Corrine, you have a boyfriend too. You spend time with him.”

  “Dating and worshipping is not the same thing,” she said.

  “That’s not fair, Corrine.”

  “Okay, sorry,” she frowned. “Maybe you two are just making up for lost time or something. So maybe I’m just a selfish bitch. But all I’m saying, is don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Save me one or two.”

  I smiled at her.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “You,” I replied. “Being jealous.”

  “So what if I am? It doesn’t mean I’m into women.”

  “No,” I agreed. “It just means you’re my friend. And you feel neglected that’s all.”

  “Oh God!” she cried as if she had just now really heard herself. “I am a selfish bitch.”

  “No you’re not,” I said getting up to give her a hug. “A controlling one certainly, but not selfish.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  With Friday all planned less than an hour into the flight, I was too excited about how it would go to nap. I didn’t even care that I had middle seat in the back of the crowded plane. First: I wouldn’t tell Luke, or Mommy, that I was returning early. They’d be expecting to talk to me via cell phone anyway, so whether I was across the country or down the street, they’d be none the wiser. My flight would land a little after eleven o’clock Thursday night, meaning that I wouldn’t get home until sometime after midnight. Friday morning I would get up very early and by seven I’d be at the grocery store, where I’d buy everything for the perfect home-cooked dinner featuring my very own pot-roast.

  Then I’d show up at Luke’s house by eight, about the time when he’d be ready to leave for work, and using any and every charm I had in my feminine arsenal, including his favorite jeans, I would persuade him to take the day off. Then we’d make love all day until it was time for me to cook his dinner. Then we’d eat and perhaps make love some more, until we slept contentedly, or watched TV. It would be the totally perfect way to launch a weekend of that hip time I had promised him.

  The next morning the day began without a hitch. At seven o’clock my cell phone chimed with a text from Luke, his little good morning, lover message. Little did he know, it wasn’t five o’clock where I was at this moment, and I was just pulling into the grocery store parking lot. I practically pranced up and down the aisles, skipping around on tippy-toes all delighted with myself for how clever I was creating this surprise for him.

  Ahead of schedule I stealthily pulled into the Luke’s driveway and parked my Corolla. I dug around in my purse for his house key, which I had hung on a piece of red ribbon and kept tucked in a side purse pocket instead of on my key ring. Then I got out of the car, gathered up the two brown-paper bags of groceries, careful to shut the car doors quietly because it was all about the surprise.

  But the surprise was for me. Opening the front door I heard voices, and they were not coming from NPR on the radio. Oh well. The first hiccup to my perfect day—Luke was not alone. His mother must be here, although it was very early. Maybe it was the cleaning lady. It wasn’t.

  Christina.

  In the first instant I thought that I must be dreaming and having a nightmare. Was I somehow still in the black sky over endless miles of desert below?

  No. This was real. Christina was perched on one of the barstools, her legs crossed, French-pedicured nails peeping out from under a floor-length floral silk robe made lustrous in the overhead light. The surprised expression on her beautiful face immediately turned into a smile, and she set down her coffee mug. Twenty years later, I was hearing her voice again.

  “Well, hello, Rachel,” she said.

  I’m so glad you shared this with us, Rachel. It means a lot to Luke that you are here.

  If only it could be a bad dream. Just another replay of a memory from that awful day. But this was the here and now. In Luke’s house. My arms full of the food I wanted to cook for him.

  I looked at Luke. He had done it to me again. And yet he looked so normal dressed for work, his white shirt still open at the collar, missing his tie. It was like it was nothing.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling too. “What are you doing here? You’re not due back ‘til tonight.”

  It was Christina who was not supposed to come back. But I had always known she would. He had arranged it, planned it, to be with her when I was away. Like before, letting me believe that I was the only one, when he knew I wasn’t.

  I couldn’t make words come out of my mouth. Christina got down from the stool. It was a cliché, coming home to find your lover with another. But it was Luke’s house after all. The key was nothing. Christina was his wife. She would always have that. I was the one who didn’t belong here.

  You’re like a consolation prize for him.

  “I’m so glad I got to see you,” Christina was saying.

  Couples reconciled all the time. It was good for the family. The Christian thing. I felt strangled again, but I wasn’t wearing pink satin.

  “I was hoping I’d get to,” she added. “But Luke said you were out of town on business.”

  “Rachel,” Luke said, slowly rolling towards me, concern furrowing his brow. “What’s the matter?”

  Yes, he was caught. In his lie. Christina and I were face to face. It had always been a lie.

  “Rachel?” he called my name again, coming closer.

  I recoiled. The bags of groceries slipped from my arms to the floor, stripping the house key from my hand as they went.

  “Rachel!” I heard Luke’s voice behind me as I fled. “You’ve got it wrong!”

  I ran to my car and got in.

  “Wait!” Luke yelled, racing down the ramp. “Stop!”

  But the engine was running. I looked at him one last time. It was my fault again, my own doing, but no more. Before he could reach the car I floored the accelerator in reverse, backed out of his driveway, and sped away.

  The drive home was a blur, but not because of tears. My eyes were dry and I saw clearly. My mind was the blur, a whirling blur. I couldn’t get enough oxygen. My cell phone kept ringing. I wouldn’t look for it. When I got home I left it and my purse in the car and ran upstairs.

  Inside I collapsed on the sofa and caught my breath. It wasn’t shock, not really, or anger, or sadness. I was simply a fool with nobody to blame but myself. I knew how it was wit
h Luke. I had always known. Players only love you when they’re playing so the song went. Even if they did have a conscience or called themselves your friend. I had begged Luke to sleep with me the first time, and now the last time too. It had just come full circle.

  T-T and Agatha appeared, settling in on either side of me. My home phone rang. I didn’t answer it either. I couldn’t. You had to be able to speak to answer a telephone and I still couldn’t make words come out. The answering machine switched on.

  “Rachel,” Luke’s voice said urgently. “Call me. You misunderstood. We need to talk.”

  What was there to talk about? Was he really going to repeat the I can’t be with you line again? The phone rang again. I still didn’t move. The answering machine switched on again.

  “Where are you?” Luke’s voice was demanding now. “I called your cell. Damn it, Rachel, don’t do this. You have to talk to me.”

  No. I didn’t. I got up off the couch and unplugged the living room telephone from the wall. Then I went to the bedroom and did the same thing. I didn’t even have to listen to him. That was Christina’s job. She was his wife. The Bible said so. They had children. It was better if they worked it out. It was time for me to let go. He no longer needed his puppy-dog protégé. Two was company. No one ever knew what became of the comical sidekick anyway. They just disappeared when the hero got his girl. The right girl.

  I pulled down the box containing the old Sony Walkman and the cassette tape of Rachel’s Favorites. It was time to get rid of this too. As long as the tape was in my house, it would be like a dysfunctional talisman holding me back, blocking my blessings. The way the seventeen steps blocked Luke from coming into my house. That should have been a sign. He had never been welcomed here. We had never fit into each other’s worlds; we had never belonged together. But as long as the cassette tape was here, my bedroom would never welcome anybody else. My bed would always be empty. Mommy was right. Robert had never had a chance. I had never given him one because I had given everything to Luke and never taken it back. It was time to do that now.

  I began by pulling the worn brown recording tape out of its protective case. Then my knees buckled and I turned into a ball of sobs facedown into the carpet. I lay there so long eventually the cats followed me into the bedroom. When I ran out of energy to weep with, then I just stayed on the floor clutching the damaged cassette. It was as if I had been washed up on a desert island after a ship wreck, wishing that I had drowned.

  Suddenly there was a loud thud against my front door. Startled out of my stupor I sat up. T-T and Agatha scampered under the bed. Now someone pounded on the door.

  “Rachel!” Luke shouted. “I know you’re in there! Open the goddamn door!”

  Luke?

  THIRTY-THREE

  I rushed to the door and threw it open. Luke was standing there—standing—clutching the door frame to hold himself up, sweat pouring down his angry face.

  “Goddammit, Rachel!” he swore at me. “Why won’t you answer your fucking phone!”

  “How- how—” I started.

  His legs giving way, Luke began to crumble, and I reached out to catch him. His weight took us both down to together, and we fell inside the doorway. Luke lay on top of me, pinning me to the floor. How had he gotten up here? But then I remembered that Christina was at his house, and I furiously began wrestling to get from under him. Fighting me, he held my shoulders down as I kicked to get my legs free.

  “Listen to me!” he yelled. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Get off me!” I shouted back. “Go back to your wife!”

  “Ex-wife,” he retorted keeping my shoulders on the floor. “She’s not my wife.”

  “Christina will always be your wife!” I charged writhing wildly against him.

  “Rachel, you’ve got to lis—”

  Gasping, Luke abruptly let go of me, rolling over onto his back, reaching for his violently shaking legs, his face contorted in pain.

  “Luke!” I cried. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Straighten my legs,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Finally disentangling my own legs from his, I knelt beside him.

  “The belt,” he told me. “Take the belt off.”

  Frantically I tugged at the leather belt that he had apparently strapped around his legs, binding them together. Then I tried to lay his legs straight, but the muscle spasms kept them jerking. His left knee pulled up suddenly, bending and twisting the leg.

  “Fuck!” Luke swore again under his breath, clawing at the carpet. “Goddammit!”

  Frightened, I tried to pull the leg straight again, but it wouldn’t budge. Luke’s legs were so thin. If I pulled it too hard would I hurt him? I had never seen the spasms be this bad before. Abruptly the left knee collapsed and fell to the side. Now I could straighten the leg out next to the right one, which had stiffened like a board. Luke had draped his arm over his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, I began gently rubbing his twitching limbs, massaging the contracting muscles through the gabardine fabric of his trousers, mindful of his leg bag, and praying that the contractions would stop.

  When they finally did, Luke’s breathing eased too, but for a time he lay there staring up at the ceiling while I kept massaging his legs. The cold air from outside blew in through the open door, and I shivered. Luke was drenched. He wasn’t wearing a jacket. He must be freezing. I went to close the door and came back to him kneeling down beside him again.

  “Luke?” I asked. “Are you okay? I’ll get you some wa—”

  I started to get up, but he grabbed my wrist, yanking me back down next to him.

  “Listen to me,” he ordered.

  “Luke,” I said once again pulling vainly against him to free myself. “You’re hurting me!”

  “You will listen. Christina showed up last night. I didn’t know she was coming. There’s some kind of reunion thing with some of her high school friends. There was a mix-up with her hotel. She needed a place to stay,” he paused to catch his breath. “Both her parents are dead, Rachel. I’m the closest thing she’s got to family in Dallas. What was I supposed to do? She’s the mother of my kids—”

  “She’s your wife,” I hotly interrupted his excuses.

  Did he actually think I would buy the I-didn’t-know-she-was-coming line? How convenient that Christina’s high school reunion would be the same week that I was out of town. Yes, I was a fool, but I wasn’t an idiot.

  “Nothing happened, Rachel, I swear to you.” His grip was vice-like. “There is nothing between us. Look at your eyes,” he said exasperated. “There’s nothing for you to cry about. A friggin’ coincidence for God’s sake.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said bitterly.

  “You have to.”

  “No! I don’t. I believed you before—”

  “I love you, Rachel. Don’t you know that?”

  What difference did that make?

  “So?” I replied coldly. “I’ve heard it all before, Luke. But you married Christina—” My voice broke brining new tears. “Now let me go.”

  “Oh God, Rachel,” he pleaded, clutching my wrist. “I had to. You don’t understand. I had no choice.”

  “Yes you did!” I charged, now trying to pry his strong fingers loose from around my wrist. “It’s always your choice. Whatever Luke wants. And you don’t want me. You never wanted me.”

  “That’s not true!” he argued, tightening his grip.

  Shaking my head vehemently, I wiped at my tears with my free hand.

  “There’s never been anybody but you,” he said.

  “That’s a lie!” I shot back. “I was your bridesmaid, remember?”

  “That was the lie, Rachel. My marriage to Christina.”

  “Keep your speeches, Luke.”

  “And that’s how it started.”

  Unexpectedly he released my wrist and I nearly toppled over. Yet even though I was free now, I stayed on the floor instead of getting up. There was silence. Luke’s
suit slacks were dirty and there was a ragged tear in the expensive gabardine. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and his hands were scraped, in some places deep enough to show blood. Had he really crawled up the stairs?

  “How what started, Luke?” I now asked quietly.

  “The lie,” he replied wearily.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Grimacing, Luke slowly sat up, first resting on his elbows, before dragging himself across the floor, so that he could lean his back against the wall. There were scuff marks on his polished shoes.

  “My chair’s downstairs,” he said. “You mind getting it for me?”

  “Luke—”

  “Please, Rachel. I feel kinda naked without it.”

  The wheelchair was light and easy for me to pull up the steps, easier than it must have been for Luke to get himself to my door. He worked out all the time and used his standing frame to preserve his bone density, but how could he stand up? When I brought the chair inside, Luke thanked me as I parked it where he could reach it.

  “If you’re going to throw me out,” he said looking up at me. “I’ll need a minute or two. I pretty much shot my wad getting up here.”

  Yet he had done it. To come to me.

  “I’m not throwing you out,” I said closing the front door.

  “I guess that’s something,” he replied. “I’ll take that glass of water now. No ice.”

  I quickly brought him a glass.

  “Thanks,” he said taking it from me and gulping the water down. “I like your place,” he told me, reaching up to give me back the empty glass. “The stairs are a bitch but—”

  “How did you do it?” I asked setting the empty glass on the counter. “Get up here, I mean.”

  “Basically I crawled. That’s right. You, Rachel Marie Cunningham forced a man to crawl to you.”

  And not just any man. I sat back down on the floor but kept my distance. T-T came to me, nudging me insistently in the back.

  “It wasn’t necessary, Luke,” I said, pulling the cat into my lap.

  “Yes, it was,” he disagreed. “Seems all your phones are out of order.” He nodded in the direction of T-T. “So is this the man of the house?”