Getting Old is a Disaster Page 19

  Instead of having to cook, cooking has become fun. Fun is the operative word. And he is a fun companion. Why, oh, why did I wait so long? I could have had this life a year ago. Why didn’t I follow my own rule of If not now, when? I was so afraid to give up what I had in favor of the unknown.

  The key turns in the lock and I hear, “Honey, I’m home.” He is determined to say that silly thing every time.

  And I meet him at the door with a kiss and say, “Hard day at the office, dear?” A new tradition.

  And of course he heads directly for the kitchen. It’s Soup from Scratch Night, and I have a hearty vegetable soup on the stove. To be served with a French bread and Brie. The secret of my vegetable soup is to sprinkle grated Parmesan cheese on it when serving. Jack lifts the lid, takes a spoonful, and smiles his approval.

  “You’re late. Any problems?”

  “Nope. I had to make a stop.”

  He goes into the living room, where the table is elaborately set. BJ (before Jack), a tacky placemat, paper napkins, and any old silverware. AJ, need I say Martha Stewart would be proud?

  He lights the candles in my fancy silver-plated candelabra, which had gathered dust for ten years in the hall closet until now.

  And then he places a small box on my plate.

  There should be a crash of cymbals. The first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth at least. Something.

  I examine the box from every angle. It looks like a small ring box. “Is this what I think it is?” I ask.

  “It is,” he replies. “Exactly what you said you wanted. A garnet instead of a diamond.”

  “This is it, then?” I ask, stalling.

  He removes the ring from the box and places it on my finger. “Last chance to run. I would get down on my knees, but you’d have to pull me up.” He beams. “Hope you like the design I picked. You can always get it reset, though.”

  It’s beautiful, but what engagement ring isn’t beautiful? I can’t believe how corny I feel. There must be something of a universal subconscious that prompts this response in women when they get “the ring.” Tears in my eyes, a blush on my cheeks.

  He kisses me. “I’m only marrying you because you love to cook.”

  I burst out laughing. “You’re trapped, too.”

  “I hope forever.”

  I bask in the joy of the moment. I wish everyone I love could be so happy.

  They sit on the couch, side by side. Joe eats a TV dinner: roast beef, mashed potatoes, green peas. Evvie eats home-cooked lemon chicken with Brussels sprouts and a salad. They watch Jeopardy! Evvie calls out the answers when she knows them. Joe stares ahead and seems to be watching. But he is thinking.

  “Evvie,” he says. “Can’t we divide up the chores? I can cook one night, and maybe you the next.”

  “Hah,” she says. “When did you learn to cook?”

  “I manage.”

  “You just want me to wait on you hand and foot, like I used to. And that’s not going to happen.”

  He sighs. “I wish we could try to make things pleasant.”

  “Maybe your apartment will be fixed soon, so this’ll be a moot point.”

  He picks up her plate and his aluminum foil wrapping and brings them into the kitchen. He washes up what little there is. He calls to her, “Want me to go out and get some ice cream?”

  “It’s raining,” she calls back.

  “So what?” he says, “I won’t melt.”

  “All right,” she says grudgingly. “Make it chocolate almond fudge.”

  “I know. I know what you like.” He grabs his raincoat from the hall closet. And like an eager puppy dog, he races out.

  Evvie tries to concentrate on the TV show. She calls out an answer. “Spain.” She’s wrong. It’s Portugal. She shakes her head, disgusted with herself. Why am I so damned stubborn? Why can’t I bend a little? He’s trying so hard. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Enya wakes up, disoriented, not knowing where she is. The room is dark. She reaches for the lamp and turns on the switch. She shakes her head to clear it. She had fallen asleep on the couch. Getting up slowly, she makes her way into the kitchen. From her window she sees Joe hurrying past. He is smiling. She puts up the kettle for tea.

  Glancing at the clock she realizes it’s past dinnertime. What does it matter, she’s hardly ever hungry these days. She tells herself she must eat. But what for?

  It’s the nightmares. They won’t stop. Eyes everywhere. The eyes of her husband and the children. Eyes pleading. Eyes filled with dirt and crying. Eyes dying; the light going out. Eyes of an assassin who terrorizes her.

  She can’t stand it, but what can she do? She needs to talk to someone. Throwing a shawl around her shoulders, she walks outside. She hesitates at Evvie’s door. Then, not wanting to disturb her, on impulse she turns next door and rings Abe’s bell. Immediately she regrets her action.

  Abe, wearing a tallis, his praying shawl, answers and is startled to see her. “Mrs. Slovak, do you need something?”

  She moves away, shaking her head. “A bad idea.” She goes back into her apartment. How could she think of even going to that man? He’s a stranger. And she realizes something about him makes her nervous. She drinks more tea and stares at her white kitchen wall, hoping for serenity.

  Fifteen minutes later Abe knocks at her door. This time, he is wearing a jacket. He tells her, “You came to me in need and I should have helped you then and there. Forgive me.”

  “I’m all right. It was a moment of weakness.” He tries for a smile. “Perhaps I should have brought more flowers. I seem always to be apologizing to you.”

  She lets him in. She asks herself why. She feels she is not in control of her actions. Once again they sit at the small table, her hands clasped, his on his lap. He waits.

  She blurts it out, “It’s the nightmares. I see eyes and they are always accusing. I thought I buried those dreams, but they are back.” She leans her head tiredly against the white wall.

  “There is only one answer. You must forgive and forget, or you will live in agony all your days.” She throws her hands into the air in frustration. “How is that possible? How can I ever forget?” She jumps up, puts her cup in the sink, needing something to do.

  He speaks quietly. “You place it in a compartment in the back of your mind. And you lock the door. You find solace in God. Otherwise, there is no peace in you.”

  “Peace? I don’t want peace. And don’t you dare say to me that my family would have wanted me to forget. That they would want me to be happy! I’ve heard it a thousand times, said by people who could never imagine hell on earth. You know better. You lived in the same hell.”

  Her face is close to his. “I wanted to die with them.”

  “But God chose you to live.”

  “And God chose them to die?”

  “He had His reasons.”

  “Oh, yes, And what was His reason for me? To live in agony! There is no limit to the agony I must suffer, and it will never match what my family went through.”

  “Yet you knocked on my door because you could no longer stand the pain. Enough, Mrs. Slovak. Enya. You’ve paid your penance long enough.”

  She shakes her head violently from side to side. “God would not want you to suffer like this.” She screams at him, “God wanted my babies to suffer?” She drops to her chair, but falls instead to the floor. He reaches down to help her up. She pushes his hands away. She stays there on her knees.

  Abe leans down to her and recites gently, “ ‘When I believed He saved me. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in him will I trust.’ ”

  “No! No! No!” Enya shouts. “Leave me alone!”

  He drops down on the floor in front of her. “You must forgive. You must forget. You must!” He, recites, louder, with zeal, “ ‘O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.’ ”

  “Stop it!” she shouts, and covers her ears. “I can’t. I won’t!”

  His voice lifts higher, beco
mes more passionate. He grabs her shoulders and makes her sway with him. “ ‘O Lord, thou hast brought up my soul from the grave: thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit..”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Enya, unable to bear another moment, pulls away with all her strength and flings her arm out. She slaps his face, accidentally knocking off his glasses. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes. Both wild with rage and astonishment.

  Then Enya faints.

  When she comes to, Abe is gone and the front door is wide open.

  Tremors

  “Go on out there, my pretty coward.” Jack comes up behind me as I look out the window, and nuzzles me. “You can handle it.”

  The girls are already outside warming up for our morning exercise. I’ve reinstated our old routine and they are happy indeed.

  “All right, already. I’ve got it on.” I wiggle my ring finger. “But I guarantee it’ll open a heap of aggravation.”

  Today, I intend to wear my engagement ring. It’s taken me a few days to work up the courage, because I know what will happen. Instant need to make plans. Instant tumult. I shudder.

  I dig my heels in, but Jack gently pushes me out the door.

  Ida and Sophie perform their stretches on our landing and I join them in their warm-ups.

  Across the courtyard, Evvie and Bella are doing the same. Once that’s done, we head downstairs and meet for the rest of the routine of walking the paths.

  As we do, we discuss our day’s plans. Bella and Sophie are going to a Hadassah luncheon. Ida will teach her baking class. Evvie and I will meet up with Jack at Morrie’s office and see what he can do to help solve our skeleton mystery.

  I keep waiting for someone to spot the glitter of my ring. But they are looking up and looking down and looking around; Bella, of course, always keeps her eyes on her feet to make sure she doesn’t trip.

  I need to get this over with. “Look what I have,” I say, flashing my garnet ring. I had chosen my birthstone rather than a diamond. First there is a casual glance and then it sinks in. Bella and Sophie grab my hand for closer inspection. Ida’s eyebrow goes up. Evvie looks at me, sees my eyes shining, and she is happy for me.

  Sophie and Bella then join hands and dance around me, jumping up and down. Next words out of their mouths will be “When’s the wedding?”

  “When’s the wedding?” Sophie asks.

  “We need to have a party” will follow as day follows night.

  “Yeah,” Bella says joyfully. “We need to make you a party.”

  “Party, party, party,” sing my dancing girls.

  “Congratulations,” Ida says. The words must be closing down her throat. I know she loves me and wants my happiness, but this is clearly churning up old bad memories for her. Someday I hope she’ll feel free to confide in me.

  Evvie comes to the little dancing circle and gleefully pulls it apart. She hugs me, with tears in her eyes.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, “but first walking, walking, walking.”

  The rest of the walk is plans, plans, and plans. Evvie glances at me slyly. She knows how much I hate being the center of attention.

  We are on our way to Morrie’s, Evvie and I, where we’ll meet up with Jack. I’ve had some of the worst dings taken off the old Chevy, so it doesn’t look as awful as it did.

  Evvie says from her seat next to me, “What’s different?”

  “When? Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “When’s the last time we’ve had time to spend time together alone? Since before the hurricane.”

  “Come to think of it, we haven’t.”

  “My point, exactly. Now that we have men in our apartments and our lives. In our kitchens, in our bathrooms, in our closets—”

  I stop her hyperbole. “Now, now.” She would go on forever if I let her, my drama queen sister. I glance at her face. Her lips are tightly pursed.

  “Well, you know what’s been going on in my life. You just got the latest update this morning. I haven’t a clue what you’re about. With Joe.”

  Evvie looks out the window, not answering. Finally, she says, “University Drive is still a mess. The city looks like a war zone.”

  “Old news. And windows are still shuttered and stores are still closed. Yada, yada, as Seinfeld used to say on TV. You’re stalling. Out with it.”

  She faces me. “Joe doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “I’m your sister. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  She blurts, “He’s got cancer and he’s decided he wants to spend what time he has left with me!”

  I almost lose control of the wheel. I turn to her in anguish. “Oh, Evvie.”

  Now the two of us are silent.

  “I’ve hated him for years,” Evvie says. “Now I’m not allowed to hate him because he’s dying.”

  “What kind of time are we talking about?” I ask softly.

  “Maybe six months. Prostate. And now... now, he starts to be nice to me.”

  “Can’t you forgive and forget?”

  “All those years of treating me like dirt. He and his family making me feel small and useless. Dumping me on a New Year’s Eve in front of everyone—”

  “Ev,” I stop the litany from continuing. “I know how much pain he caused, but get a little perspective here. Think of that old saying: I complained because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know I should count my blessings.”

  “Think of Enya and what she went through.”

  She sighs. “You’re right. My new mantra: Forgive and forget.”

  “Just keep saying that to yourself. Turn things around. Change the negative into positive. Find what’s good in him.”

  “Why do you always have to be so damn smart?”

  “Because I am.” I smirk. She grins.

  We arrive at the police station. Evvie and I hug each other. I wait a few moments until she wipes the tears from her face, and we get out of the car.

  We fill Morrie in, Jack, Evvie, and I, as we sit in his office. He has this habit of tapping his desk when he’s impatient, and he’s doing it now. I speed up my dissertation. All of it. My trip to Tampa with Stanley, meeting the sister. We track the Johnny Blake line from there to Lanai Gardens. Reminding Morrie that the forensics lab report on the skeleton proves it’s not anyone already identified.

  Now he pays close attention. “So you have two unsolved murders from fifty years ago. In two different counties.” He looks at me.

  “I know.”

  Morrie looks at Jack.

  “She knows.”

  “We need you to take up the slack,” I say.

  “Nice of you. Thanks for giving me an ice cold case to handle.”

  I pinch his cheek. “No statute of limitations on murder. We already did the hard stuff, bubbala.” Evvie gets her dig in, too. “All you have to do is find out everything about that ship, and how and where the guy got on, and who knew about it. A piece of cake.”

  With that, we take our leave, with me saying “I know you’ll want to get on this right away, so off we go. Ta-ta.”

  With those long legs of his, he gets to the door before we can. “Not so fast, Gladdy Gold. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You aren’t getting out of here that easily.” He lifts my left hand. “Nice ring. When’s the party and when’s the wedding?”

  Jack, Evvie, and I exchange glances. “I told you so,” I say with my grin.

  Denny waits at his truck in front of building Q. Sophie and Bella, all dressed up, hurry to him. Bella says, “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “No problem,” he says, opening the door for them. “I got all my chores done already, so I got time.”

  “Denny, a moment, please.”

  The girls turn at the sound of the voice. It’s Abe Waller, hurrying toward them. He seems agitated. “I have a problem. My faucet just broke off in the kitchen and water is gushi
ng. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

  Denny is chagrined. “I’m taking Mrs. Fox and Mrs. Meyerbeer somewhere.”

  Abe seems upset. “But what can I do with all that water running?” He looks at Bella and Sophie. “So sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Where are you lovely ladies going?”

  Sophie preens. “Were going to a luncheon. In Margate.”

  “Margate? Really?” Abe says, “I’m on my way there now myself. May I give you a lift?”

  The girls and Denny are at a loss.

  “Well, I don’t know...” Sophie says.

  Abe bows to her. “Please, it would be my plea-sure. Then Denny will fix my faucet.”

  That old-country-style charm works. The girls melt.

  Abe asks Denny. “Do you need my key or do you have a master?”

  Denny says, unsure, “I can let myself in.”

  “Then it’s settled. Ladies, my car is right here. Allow me to escort you.”

  Bella and Sophie smile at each other. They wave at Denny. “Thanks anyway, Denny,” Sophie says. “We’ll call when we need a ride home, if that’s okay.”

  Denny nods. “Lots better than a ride in the truck,” Bella says, seating herself in the backseat of Abe’s comfortable Pontiac.

  Sophie sits next to Bella. They giggle. “This is like having a chauffeur,” she says happily.

  As they drive off, Sophie gives Abe the street address. Abe turns on a music station for them. “Classical all right?” Abe asks.

  The girls nudge each other. They are enjoying this. Bella says, “We like anything.”

  Abe makes conversation. “These have been very exciting weeks, have they not? I, myself, never experienced a hurricane before. Were you frightened? I know I was.”

  Sophie gushes, “You bet. We were scared out of our wits.”

  Bella adds, “I thought we were going to die.” Sophie says, “We were lucky. We got to stay with Gladdy and she kept us calm.”