“Elyse, is this really necessary?” Carolyn asked calmly.
“Keep out of this, Carolyn. Rebecca, you owe your sister and brother an apology.”
Franklin’s voice called out something from the bedroom.
“That’s Pop,” Rebecca said, halfway out of her chair.
“That’s another thing. Stop trying to do my job. Franklin is my husband, and I’ll take care of him. Don’t you ever tell me not to go check on him.” She turned and went to see after Franklin.
“What’s all the fuss about?” he asked.
“There were a few problems I had to straighten out. I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t think we were that loud.”
“What problems?”
She told him what Rebecca had said to Brontë. “I also needed to straighten Rebecca out about trying to stop me from coming in to check on you.” She turned at the sound of the bedroom door opening and gasped. Not only had Rebecca entered without knocking, but Carolyn was right behind her.
“Pop, Elyse is lying on me,” Rebecca said. “She claims I said something mean to Brontë, but I didn’t. I just suggested that she should spend as much time as she can with you.”
“That’s bullshit, and if you don’t believe me, ask Brontë when she gets back.”
“Franklin, you know our daughter doesn’t lie,” Carolyn said.
Elyse raised her chin defiantly. “Neither does ours.”
“Brontë’s a good girl, Franklin,” Carolyn agreed, “but I doubt she’s above exaggerating some to elicit sympathy. After all, Frankie and Rebecca tell me things have been pretty tense around here lately since you discovered Elyse spending her lunch hours trysting with another man.”
Elyse stared at her, speechless. Even Rebecca looked startled.
Elyse looked to Franklin. “Either you say something to that, or so help me, I will.”
“Carolyn, you always had a tendency to overdramatize. If you’ll remember, that’s why I left your ass.”
“Franklin!” she exclaimed, her chin dropping.
“Pop, did you have to—” Rebecca began.
“Carolyn, will you please leave the three of us alone for a few minutes? We need to discuss our family business.”
Carolyn had little choice but to leave. As she did so she glared at Elyse. “This isn’t over.”
“Just get the hell out of my bedroom.”
“All right,” Franklin said after she’d gone, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I want it to stop right now. Rebecca, I’ll be talking with Brontë tomorrow. If you did say what Elyse told me, you were wrong, and you owe your sister an apology.”
“I didn’t mean it, Pop,” she said quietly, a sob catching in her throat.
Elyse straightened her spine triumphantly. Sounds like a confession to me.
“All right. You can go.”
Elyse remained at his bedside. When the two of them were alone she said, “That wasn’t much of a defense you put up for me. If it’d been up to me, I would have told her to leave the house.”
“Can I help it if everybody knows you’re making a fool out of me?”
“I’m not making a fool out of you, Franklin. I broke down in a public place because I was sad about your cancer coming back. You won’t make me feel guilty for that, no matter how hard you try to.”
“Yeah, with some dude you went to school with. I’m sure he was more than willing to provide you with a shoulder to cry on. But I guess that’s what I get. Everybody told me I was nuts to marry a girl from the projects.”
She squared her shoulders. “I may have lived in the projects, but my family moved out long before I met you.”
“Don’t go putting on airs with me. Once from the projects, always from the projects. And you seemed so damn proud of it when you went down to that reunion. Probably couldn’t wait to see what other project peeps you could take up with.”
“I haven’t taken up with anyone. And Kevin never lived in the projects. He was from the neighborhood, and we went to the same schools, but he never lived—”
“Who gives a shit where he lived? He went to that bar looking for somebody he could have an affair with. And there you were, having turned yourself into a lady, with your diamonds and your hair styled so perfectly. You might look like a lady, but you’re just another ho from the hood.”
Her eyes filled with stinging tears that she fought to keep from spilling out. “You don’t mean that, Franklin.”
“Why don’t you go back to the South Side? Go live in the projects. It’s where you belong. I gave you everything, a house in Lake Forest, but you’d rather be in the ghetto. So bring your ass on back there.”
Abruptly Elyse left the room. She ran down the hall to the powder room, not wanting to stay in the same room as Franklin another second. She turned the cold water on full force and rinsed her face, the cold water from the faucet mixing with her warm, wet tears.
She could hardly believe these words were coming out of her husband’s mouth. If he wasn’t weak and sick she would give his shit right back to him. But he was dying, and she didn’t have the heart to hurl such cruel words at him.
But that didn’t mean she had to stay here. She needed to get out before she lost her temper and gave Franklin what he deserved.
Elyse grabbed her coat and purse and ran out into the night, ignoring Rebecca’s pleas to know where she was going. So Rebecca felt she could take care of Franklin better than she could? Fine. Let her do it, at least until Todd and Brontë got home.
In the car she called Kevin. She’d already decided to drive down to Pat’s get-together in Lake Forest. She had scribbled down the information on the notepad she always carried in her purse, so she had the address. The navigation system in her dashboard would tell her how to get there. But she was a little apprehensive about parking and walking in the city after dark. Maybe Kevin would go with her, since he lived north of Andy Keindl’s town house.
He answered and agreed to go to the party with her.
Elyse was glad she’d gone, but now that it was over she dreaded going home. A worried Todd had called her when he and Brontë got home and Rebecca informed them that she’d walked out without a word to anyone. Elyse told Todd that she was at a cocktail party given by her friend Pat—conveniently leaving out the fact that she’d stopped to pick up Kevin on the way. Todd didn’t ask what had driven her out of the house in such a hurry. He probably already knew the answer.
Traffic was remarkably light from the South Side up through downtown and points north. Elyse attributed it to people going to bed early so they could hunt down bargains in the morning, when stores would open as early as 5 AM. They got to Rogers Park in no time, to her dismay. She’d been hoping for one of those traffic snarls that made the Dan Ryan Expressway so notorious. Damn it, it was just her luck to be out on one of the few nights of the year when everybody else was at home.
She wasn’t ready to go home, back to more insults and ridicule.
Kevin easily pulled into a space on the street, just around the corner from the entrance to the three-story brick walk-up where he lived. He removed the keys from the ignition and handed them to her. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Elyse, but something tells me you’d like to stay out a little longer before you go home.”
She shrugged. “It’s the same thing that’s been going on for over a month. My husband is behaving beastly. If he wants to insult me all the time, let him get along without me.”
“Why don’t we talk about it?”
“It’s too cold.”
He chuckled. “You’re right about that. Come up for a little while, or as long as you’d like.” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the car door and got out.
Elyse did the same, trying not to think about his seemingly open-ended invitation. Stay as long as you’d like.
An invitation to trouble if she ever heard one. But she’d rather risk it than go home.
Chapter 56
Elyse entered the apartment, taking a
look around as Kevin closed and locked the door. The faded-brown brick building looked dingy and old on the outside, but the apartment was clean and bright, courtesy of spotless white paint. It was furnished simply, if inexpensively, with a furry brown living room set and thin glass accent tables. The computer center looked new, but the entertainment center that held his TV, DVD player, speakers, and sound system had peeled in spots. Both pieces obviously came out of a box and had to be assembled, no doubt made of corkboard with wood strips pasted on the outside. Two crates full of albums flanked each side of the entertainment center. The sofa was against the wall, with the chair and loveseat facing each other in front of the sofa. A swirly print area rug lay neatly beneath the coffee table, filling most of the space in the seating area. Two windows were framed by checkered curtains, and to one side stood a black pole lamp. The apartment looked more like it belonged to a kid a few years out of college than to a middle-aged man, but she admired his neatness.
Kevin put on a Peter White CD, then went into the kitchen while Elyse took a seat, at his invitation. She chose the side chair rather than the sofa or loveseat. Best to keep some distance between them, and this way he wouldn’t be able to sit next to her.
Kevin approached, holding two small blue-tinted stemmed glasses, the shape of which reminded Elyse of a small can of tomato paste.
“I thought you could use some wine,” he said as he handed her the glass.
“Thanks. Your apartment is very comfortable.”
“It’s a dump. But I’ve lived here for over twenty years. It’s clean, and it’s cheap. Nothing like Pat’s boyfriend’s place, but then I’m not a big-bucks attorney. I’ll move once I open my Laundromat. Once the money starts coming in I’ll be able to afford it.” He sat on the edge of the sofa and held up his glass, his eyes meeting hers. “Let’s drink to . . . happiness.”
“To happiness,” she said softly, but she cast her eyes downward, even as she touched her glass to his. These days she didn’t think she’d ever feel that emotion again.
“I feel real bad about what’s happened, Elyse. If I hadn’t moved to sit next to you at that exact moment your stepdaughter came in the restaurant, you wouldn’t be having such a hard time now.”
“It’s not your fault, Kevin.”
“I can tell you’re stressed. You’ve lost weight.”
“That’s because I haven’t had much appetite. It’s hard to eat when you’re continually being derided for, among other things, being too fat.”
“On you it looks good. But try to understand that it’s hard for a man when he becomes ill. We’re raised to think that we have to be strong, that we have to be the providers. Being sick is, well, unmanly in the eyes of society. Unable to go out and make a living, to unscrew a tight lid on a jar, to perform sexually—”
Elyse broke in, not comfortable with the direction the conversation was heading. It was true that she and Franklin hadn’t made love since shortly after his remission ended and probably would never do so again, but she wasn’t about to discuss that with Kevin. “I spoke with Franklin’s primary care doctor a few weeks ago. He explained that it’s not all that unusual for both men and women to resent that the end of their lives is near and to take it out on those closest to them. Tonight Franklin was especially nasty to me, but he was also unpleasant to his daughter from his first marriage, and his first wife . . . although, in my opinion, she had it coming.” Picturing the stunned look on Carolyn’s face when Franklin reminded her of the reason for their divorce and again when he asked her to leave the room brought a rare smile to Elyse’s face.
“Did the doctor make any recommendations?”
She made a face. “A support group, but that’s not for me. I’m not much for sharing tales of woe with complete strangers. His other suggestion was counseling, but I’d prefer not to do that. It’s pretty much the same thing, except the stranger is a professional.”
“Hang in there, Elyse.”
“Yeah. Dr. Obi said the same thing.”
“Obi? What is he, Japanese?”
“No, he’s from Nigeria. He’s been Franklin’s doctor for years.”
Kevin put his glass on the coffee table and got up. Elyse thought he was going to change the CD, but when she felt strong hands on her shoulders, she knew he’d gone to stand behind her.
“You feel so tense. Relax.” He repeated it, this time as a whisper. “Close your eyes and relax.”
Elyse felt the stress start to drain out of her. “You’re actually pretty good at massage.”
“I used to work with a guy from Korea who was an expert. He showed me his technique. I’m glad it works for you.”
Her eyes closed. His fingers felt wonderful, invigorating her flesh. Hell, she’d pay for a massage this good. She hadn’t felt so alive since she’d seen a chiropractor a few years back, who did wonders with her spine....
Her eyes flew open, and she drew in her breath with a loud sucking sound when she felt warm lips against her skin on the back of her neck. Kevin didn’t miss a beat.
“Just relax,” he repeated.
Elyse’s breath came in short gasps. The gesture had been so unexpected, and she knew what it would lead to if she didn’t stop him, but what was her alternative? Try to do the right thing and go home to her husband, who would no doubt berate her with taunts that grew more brutal with each passing week? Franklin had practically sent her here into Kevin’s arms with his relentless verbal attacks. He’d actually called her a whore.
She tensed at the memory, then allowed herself to relax once more. Maybe it was wrong for her to be here, but it felt so right. Kevin’s hands continued to work their magic as his lips moved toward her throat and higher still. In an instant Elyse made up her mind. She’d moved her body forward when she first felt him nuzzling her, but now she leaned back again, her face lifted toward the ceiling.
It made it that much easier for him to kiss her.
Her mouth opened to draw in his tongue. When was the last time she’d been kissed with such tenderness? Kevin’s palm cupped her chin, holding her in place, but if he was worried about her trying to get away, he had no need to.
Dear God, what have I done?
Elyse, lying naked on the way-too-soft mattress of Kevin’s bed, inadvertently shivered.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m just thinking . . . I should probably go.”
“Already?”
“It’s after midnight, Kevin.”
“I hoped you’d stay until morning.”
She bit her lip. “As much as I’d like to, I do have responsibilities at home.”
He moved on top of her, and this time, instead of arousal, she felt repulsion.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”
Elyse was able to get away with a sigh as he planted little kisses on her throat while squeezing one of her breasts.
Kevin moved his face opposite hers. “And I hope you’ll slip down here to see me every chance you get.”
An old R&B song immediately began playing in Elyse’s head. She didn’t even remember who sang it; she just remembered the refrain: “Slip away . . . slip away . . . slip away-ay-ay-ay.” Kevin kissed her, and as he did she wondered how she’d be able to take a shower without anyone noticing. If she used the bathroom she shared with Franklin he would notice and would give her more grief than ever. If she used the one upstairs, the kids would notice.
Maybe she could slip down to the tiny shower stall in the basement....
She felt his erection against her thigh. It would be so easy for him to slide it inside her for another session. She had to stop him, and not just because he didn’t have a condom on.
“We can have one more quick one before you go,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Kevin, I really do have to go. It’ll take me a half hour to get home. My kids are probably frantic with worry.” She’d left her cell phone in her purse in the living room.
“All right. I know you have to get back
.” He rolled off her.
Elyse lowered the window and waved good-bye to Kevin. She didn’t want to honk her horn because of the late hour.
Her body felt satisfied—okay, more than satisfied—but her heart felt heavy. It was just like Susan had said it would be. She’d just committed adultery, and it didn’t feel good. In fact, she felt lower than Death Valley. And now she had to go home and lie beside her husband, a husband she loved but who was making her miserable.
During the drive to Lake Forest she vacillated about whether to sleep in bed with Franklin or spend the remainder of the night in the spare room.
It was quiet in the car—she didn’t even have the radio going—and Elyse jumped when her cell phone started ringing. Brontë had loaded it with songs from movie musicals as her ringtones, and the warbling of “Some Day My Prince Will Come” struck her as particularly ironic, given what she’d just done. She knew it had to be one of the kids. “Hello.”
Todd’s voice filled her ears. “Mom, I’ve been trying to call you for hours. Where’ve you been?”
“At Pat’s party. I put my purse away, and my phone was in it. Sorry. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Dad’s sleeping. I sent Brontë upstairs a couple of hours ago. She’s going to hit the electronics store for that predawn shopping tomorrow, so she has to get up in a few hours. I’m kind of dozing off myself.”
“Was Daddy asking for me?”
“Every five minutes until he fell asleep. What’d he say to you, Mom?”
“He called me a whore.”
Elyse’s declaration met with shocked silence. After a few seconds’ pause, Todd said, “I’m going to talk to him in the morning. This time he’s gone too far.”
“Todd, would you mind terribly sleeping down there tonight?”
“No, I’ll stay here. I can’t blame you for not wanting to sleep in the same bed as him.”
Once Upon a Project Page 32
