by Wally Lamb
“It’s this medication they’re giving you,” she said. “It’s making you think strange.”
“You remember that night you got arrested for stealing? And you were saying how, now that everything was out in the open, that it was a good thing, not a bad thing? That things were going to be better than ever between us? And I told you not to get your hopes up. Remember, Joy? I told you I was damaged goods. You remember me telling you that? . . . That’s what I was talking about, I guess. The baby. What it did to my wife and me. I don’t know, Joy. It damages you. When you have a baby and you get to know her for three weeks and then she . . . just dies. I’m not trying to make excuses. I just . . . That’s what I meant when I said I was damaged goods. So I . . . I went and got a vasectomy. I can’t have kids, Joy. Whoever the father of your baby is, it’s not me.”
She just sat there, blinking. Looking at me strange.
“And . . . and I’m not even mad. I’m sad, Joy. I’m just real sad, because . . . because I was never really going to be able to give you a fair shake. You and me, I mean. I see that now. I used you. I’m damaged goods. But now I’m too tired to . . . I can’t fake it anymore, Joy. I can’t keep playing whatever game it is we’ve been playing. I can’t.”
She blinked. Laughed. “Stop it, okay? You’re wrecking everything. This is your baby. Mine and yours. You’re going to get better, and we’re going to have this baby, and buy a house and . . . Who else’s would it be, Dominick? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
We both just sat there, looking at each other.
“Honest!” she said. “Honest to God!”
That nurse came back into the room. Vonette. “Let’s see about that bag now,” she said. She took a look. Took my hand and felt for the pulse. Joy backed away from the bed. She looked shell-shocked. Scared. I hadn’t meant to scare her about Angela. I was sorry about that. But I couldn’t keep it up. I was too tired. I just wanted to sleep.
“Where’s your buddy?” Vonette asked me. “He didn’t go AWOL, did he?”
What? Leo? She nodded toward Steve Felice’s empty bed.
“Oh. . . . I don’t know. He’s probably out in the solarium.”
“Your BP seems a little high, hon,” Vonette said. “I’m going to come back and check it for you in another half hour or so. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She turned to Joy. “All right now, hon. If you don’t mind, I have to check his catheter and change his bag. I’m going to draw the curtain for a couple minutes and then you can get right back to your visit. All right?”
“All right,” Joy said. She smiled. Backed up another few steps. Vonette drew the curtain between us.
I had imagined some big showdown when I lowered the boom—lifted the lid off the fact that she’d been cheating on me. But it hadn’t been like that at all. I felt so sleepy.
“There now,” said Vonette. “You’re all set.”
When she pulled the curtain back again, Joy was gone.
Ray visited later that afternoon. That evening, too. Neither of us mentioned Joy. We didn’t say much at all, really—just sat and watched TV together. I dozed more than anything else. Leo and Angie came on Sunday afternoon, with a homemade poster from the kids. When Angie asked where Joy was, I shrugged. Said something about a cold.
Leo came back later by himself, carrying this three-ton fruit basket—something like a picture out of a magazine. The card said, “Best wishes for a speedy recovery. Fondly, Gene and Thula Constantine.” Fondly? Since when? Leo pulled off the cellophane for me. Ate one piece of fruit after another, practicing his hook shot with the wastebasket and the cores and peels and rinds. “Okay, where is she?” he finally said.
“Who?”
“Joy. Is she really sick?”
I shrugged. Yawned. Grabbed the chain bar and shifted my position a little. I told Leo I appreciated his visiting, but did he mind leaving now? I was tired. I wanted to sleep.
I was dozing in and out of 60 Minutes when something woke me up. A shadow. I opened my eyes.
He was just standing there, watching me. The Duchess.
“What do you want?” I said.
He handed me my Walkman from the house. And a cassette. I didn’t get it.
“This is from Joy,” he said. “She wants you to listen to it.”
“Yeah? Why didn’t she come up and give it to me, then? Where’s she at?”
“In the car,” he said. “She explained everything on the tape. Just listen to it.”
He turned and left.
“That was a short visit,” Felice said.
“What?”
“Your friend there. He didn’t stay long.”
“My friend?”
Hi, Dominick. I’m, uh . . . I’ve been trying all day to write you a letter, but nothing’s coming out right. I never was a big one for putting things down on paper, so Thad said, “Why don’t you just make him a tape? Tell him what you need to say on a tape.” And I thought, yeah, maybe that’s a good idea, because I guess I have a lot of explaining to do. . . . I don’t know, Dominick. I guess if I wasn’t so ashamed of myself, I would have told you everything in person.
I . . . I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I saw you yesterday afternoon. I was up all last night thinking about you and me, and where I’ve been in my life, and where I’m going. I have to admit that you blew me away when you told me the baby couldn’t be yours. I wanted it to be your baby, Dominick. Our baby. I just wanted it to work out for us. When you used to say to me how you couldn’t give me a “happily ever after” life, I used to go to myself, yes he can. He just doesn’t know it yet. But I guess I was just fooling myself. As usual.
Ever since I was little, Dominick, I’ve had this Carol Brady picture of myself as this nice, pretty mom with a nice house and a husband who loves me, and we have real cute kids. Things in my life got unbelievably complicated, but that was really all I ever wanted. . . . I know I told you some of the stuff about my childhood, but there’s way more I never went into. It was hard. All my mom’s husbands and boyfriends . . . I’d just start getting used to things and then we’d move again. And my mom would always say, “Well, this is it. I finally found what I’ve been looking for,” and then the next thing you knew, we’d be moving again. Sometimes we moved so quick, I couldn’t even hand in my schoolbooks. Last night I counted all the different schools I went to by the time I graduated from high school. I came up with nine. I never counted them before last night. Nine schools by the time I was seventeen.
The worst times were when she was between guys. Sometimes we didn’t even have any food in the house and I’d be like, “Mom, you have to get a job so we can eat something,” and she’d always go, “Don’t worry. Something will turn up. I’ll meet someone.” We had this trick where we used to rip off grocery stores when there was nothing in the house. . . . We’d go in and get a cart and fill it up like we were doing a big shopping and then we’d just eat stuff out of the cart—bananas, crackers, American cheese. Then we’d pretend we forgot something in Aisle 2 or whatever and just walk out of the store and my mom would go, “Don’t look back! Just keep walking!” Sometimes I’d still be hungry and she’d be rushing me out of there.
When she was between guys, she used to have to get all dressed up and go out at night. She wasn’t a hooker or anything. Don’t get me wrong. She just used to have to go out to bars and clubs and let men know she existed. . . . I used to think she looked so beautiful when she went out. I’d always help her get ready, help her fix her hair and zip her up in the back. It was like playing dress-up with your dolls or something, except it was your own mother. I didn’t think it was weird or anything, but that time after I got arrested? And I was going to Dr. Grork? He said it was abnormal. Unhealthy. I guess I just didn’t think that much about it at the time. Analyze it or whatever. It was just our life. . . .
I used to hate staying by myself all night when she went out. I don’t really blame her. She couldn’t help it. How was she s
upposed to pay some baby-sitter when we couldn’t even pay for the food we were eating at the grocery store? . . . But I was always a nervous wreck when she was out like that. Thinking some killer or burglar was going to get me. I used to get so nervous that I’d pull out the hairs on my eyebrows. I did it in school all the time, too. It got to be a bad habit. I had this one witch of a fourth-grade teacher who was always yelling at me for making the skin around my eyebrows bleed. It was like this woman’s personal mission in life was to get me to keep my hands away from my face. There’s this school picture of me that year that I still have. I never showed it to you. It’s kind of pathetic. We were living in Tustin then. (It was just before my mom met her husband Mike.) And, in the picture, you can see these red scabs where my eyebrows are supposed to be. Whenever I look at that picture, I get that same feeling in my stomach like I used to get when I’d be by myself all night, or half the night, or whatever. It’s like I’m that same little girl again and nothing else in my life has ever happened. It’s weird. . . . I’m not telling you all this to make you feel sorry for me, Dominick. I’m just trying to explain why I wanted so much for us to have a house, and a baby, and maybe even get married at some point. But you have to admit that I never tried to push you into it. . . .
The pregnancy just happened, Dominick. I keep thinking that you think I got pregnant just to trap you into marrying me. I’m real upset about that because that’s not at all what happened. Honest to God.
I really think having this baby is gonna change me for the better, Dominick. Make me a better person. I hope it does. . . . Ever since you told me yesterday about your baby daughter that died, I can’t stop thinking about her. I am so, so sorry, Dominick. That must be so heavy duty. And it explains a lot about you that I could never figure out. Why you seem so mad at the world or whatever. I just wish you had told me about her. I might have been able to help you through it.
I keep thinking about your ex-wife, too. I had a good cry over her last night—right in the middle of everything else I was thinking about. Probably because I’m gonna be a mother, too, now. . . . I never told you this, but I saw her one time. Your ex-wife. I don’t even remember her name, but I knew it was her. She was at the mall with Angie. Angie and her are sisters, right? That’s how I figured it out. They didn’t see me, so I just . . . I followed them. I sat down in back of them at the food court and listened to their conversation. They were talking about their mother—what they should get her for her birthday—and I just sat there going, this is Dominick’s ex-wife. This is the woman he was with before he was with me. . . . She seemed nice. I remember sitting there wishing that she, Angie, and I were three girlfriends out shopping together. That probably sounds kind of strange, but I never really had many girlfriends. Other women don’t like me very much, I don’t even really know why. Last month, Patti at work had a baby shower for Greta (the nutritionist) and I think every single woman at Hardbodies got invited except me. If I was going to stay there, which I’m not, I bet no one there would ever give me a shower. I’d be lucky if I got a card that someone bought and passed around and everyone signed. I guess when you change schools nine times before you’re even out of high school, you don’t get to develop many friendships. I’m twenty-five years old, Dominick, and I can’t even say that I ever had one real girlfriend. Isn’t that pitiful?
Anyways, your ex-wife seemed so nice. And funny. She was complaining about her mother—not mean or anything. She kind of reminded me a little of Rhoda from Mary Tyler Moore. Not looks, just the way she was talking. . . . I know you never stopped loving her, Dominick. You never said anything, but I could always tell. It was like you always held something back from me. I know I never really measured up, and I know you never thought I was smart enough for you—intelligent enough or whatever. You never said anything, but I knew. . . . But anyway, I cried for her last night because I was thinking about how she lost her little girl. It makes me kinda scared to think about everything that might go wrong. But it also explains a lot. I just wish you had told me before. I might have helped you if you let me in a little. At least I could have tried.
I guess I’ve finally gotten to the hardest part of what I have to say, Dominick, and I hope it’s not too hard for you to have to listen to this on a tape. . . . It’s not easy what I have to tell you. I just want you to remember one thing. My feelings for you have always been real. I may have been dishonest about a lot of things—shoplifting, etcetera—but I’m being totally honest about my feelings. I know it hasn’t been good for us for a while now, but I thought at the beginning that we had something pretty special. In some ways, you made me happier than any of the other guys I’ve been in relationships with. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wish the baby was yours. Because I really, really care about you. The feelings are still there, Dominick. Honest to God.
Thad is the baby’s father. It’s pretty complicated, but I guess I owe you an explanation, if you’re even still listening. . . .
Dominick, I was never honest with you about Thad and me. To begin with, he’s bisexual, not gay. I guess you’ve probably figured that out by now. He told Aaron about the baby yesterday, and Aaron kicked him out of their place. Another thing you never knew was that Thad and I didn’t meet each other at work, like I told you we did. We’ve known each other for a long, long time. Do you remember me telling you about my mom’s half-brother that came to live with us out in California? And how him and me were fooling around when everyone else was at work? Well, that was Thad. I was only twelve when it all started, and Thad was nineteen. He’s always looked younger than his age. I was just some stupid kid; I didn’t know what I was doing. Well, I sorta did and sorta didn’t. But, like they say, he kind of got in my bloodstream or something. Maybe because I was so young. . . . I just never could get over him. He was in the Navy back then—I think I told you—and then he got transferred to Portsmouth. That’s where he began “experimenting” with guys. Started going to these bars and stuff. He used to call me up and tell me about it—all these descriptions of what him and some guy had done together. He’d call right after I got home from school, before Mom and Phil got home from work. He’d say, “Do you want me to tell you what we did next?” And I’d go, “Yeah, tell me.” Then I’d get off the phone and have dry heaves because I was so upset. It got so I couldn’t eat or anything. I missed him so much. I used to beg him on the phone to send me stuff—his fingernails and things—and that was all I ever wanted to eat. It was so sick. But that’s how it’s always been with me and Thad. It’s like a sickness.
Yours and mine isn’t the first relationship this has ruined. When Denny, my second husband, found out about Thad, he went crazy. Ronnie, my first husband, never even found out. Which was good, because Ronnie could get real mean. It’s just that . . . Well, do you remember after I got arrested up at the Hills? And I was seeing Dr. Grork? He kept telling me I needed to get Thad out of my life and tell you about him. Come clean. Dr. Grork said it was a big risk, but that I really had to take it if I ever expected to really get some of the things I’ve always wanted. . . . But I couldn’t do it. I tried to, Dominick, but I couldn’t. I guess I was afraid it was gonna wreck my chance to be Carol Brady. Which is a big joke, I see now. I know he’s not good for me, but I can’t let go. Sometimes I hate him. You’re a hundred percent better person than he’ll ever be, Dominick. He’s very manipulative, very controlling. That’s what Dr. Grork kept telling me, and he was right. . . . It’s not you, Dominick. It’s me. Thad and me are like a disease.
I’m not proud of what I have to tell you next, Dominick, but I guess I need to tell you. I don’t expect you to understand, or to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it. I just hope you don’t hate me too much. Maybe someday you can forgive me. Because I really, really broke your trust. . . .
I let him watch us, Dominick. When we made love. It happened twice. I said no for a long time, Dominick, but finally I gave in. . . . He used to beg me. He really got off on it. Thad’s had a crush on you al
l along. The first time was just . . . I don’t know. I just finally said all right. It felt weird. . . . And the second time, he set it all up, told me what he wanted me to do, which way to turn and everything. He was like a movie director or something. . . . He never taped us or anything—I didn’t mean it like that. Both . . . both times it was on a Friday. He’d get there before you came home—Fridays were one of the times when you and I would get intimate. Our pattern or whatever. So . . . he hid in my closet with the door open a little. He told me that the thought of you catching him was part of the excitement. Part of the thrill.
I didn’t want to do it, Dominick. It made me feel awful. I was a nervous wreck with him hiding in there. But he begged me. Got mad when he wanted to do it that second time. He said he was going to leave me. Move away and not tell me where he was going. And so I said I’d do it, but that was it. Just that one more time and no more. . . . I know it was a huge betrayal. I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Dominick, but at least now you can say, “Good riddance to bad rubbish. I’m glad I got rid of her. She was sick.” Which I know I am.
Tomorrow, I’m giving my notice down at Hardbodies. Thad’s already quit. I know you’re going to be in the hospital for at least another week and I’ll be out of the condo by then. Out of your hair—me and this baby. Don’t worry. I’m not going to rip you off or run out with your stereo or anything. I already have enough to feel guilty about. I told Thad he can’t even come over to the condo. He’s staying at a motel until we leave.
We’re . . . we’re probably going to drive cross-country. Or else I may drive out there by myself. I’m going to stay with my mom and Herb in Anaheim at that motel they’re managing. Mom said I can stay there for free until after the baby’s born and then we’ll see. It depends on what Herb wants. . . . I don’t know what’s going to happen with Thad and me. I really don’t. He’s still talking about starting up a catering business and having me be his bartender. I don’t know. Maybe after I’m a mom, I’ll have the guts to tell him to leave me alone once and for all. . . . I know he won’t make a very good father like you would have. If it’s a boy, I know you would have taken him to Little League, and Cub Scouts, and all those things. I can’t see Thad ever doing anything like that. He’s too selfish for one thing. I really wish so much this baby was yours. . . . I’m not looking forward to living with my mother again, but she can probably help take care of the baby after it’s born. Especially if I go back to work, which I guess I’m gonna have to do. No kid of mine is going to have to go into Safeway and eat groceries in the aisles that we can’t even pay for.