“Exhausted, if you want to know the truth,” Marjorie said.
Jessie nodded.
“I can just imagine,” she said.
“Oh, can you?” Marjorie said, and laughed again. “I suppose maybe you can. It depends on what sort of a lover Lee is.”
“Lover?”
From the moment of silence and the stifled laughs, Jessie sensed Marjorie and Tracy were smiling at each other.
“What in the world does that have to do with anything?” Jessie asked.
“It has everything to do with everything,” Marjorie replied quickly. “That’s why I’m so tired today,” she continued. “Henry was a beast last night, an insatiable beast.”
“I don’t understand,” Jessie said, smiling with confusion.
“Henry is a bit oversexed,” Marjorie said, and then laughed again.
Jessie kept her smile of confusion, but said nothing. It had always been embarrassing for her when other people described their intimate relationships. She was never one to compare notes, even when she was going to high school and the girls’ room was a conference hall for sexual discussions. Her friends used to tease her about how red-faced she would get, and others were always after her, prying away at her secrets. But she had always felt talking about intimacy was a kind of betrayal. Love required trust, a dropping of the normal guards, a revelation of souls. To expose someone who had been that way with you and share the intimacy with others who would only be titillated and amused was a kind of treachery, a treachery of the heart. Maybe she was old-fashioned about it, but that’s the way she was and always would be.
“Usually,” Marjorie continued, her voice filled with an eager excitement, “Henry is one of those slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am lovers. You know, spends himself and then turns over to snore. But not last night. Last night he was at me like a caveman. He insisted on holding my arms behind my back and had me pinned down, so I could barely move. Why, it was as if I were being raped,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.
Jessie felt the heat rise into her neck.
“Unbelievable,” Tracy said. “Henry?”
“Yes, and then, once that was done and I thought it was going to be as always, I turned over to go to sleep, and wouldn’t you know it, in moments he was at me again, coming at me from behind. He pressed my face down so hard into the pillow, I almost smothered to death. But,” she added, laughing again, “it was wonderful. I think I had seven orgasms, before he was finally through, groaning and moaning like some teenage boy.
“So,” she concluded, “you two can understand why I’m a bit tired today. He was even amorous this morning. Why, the moment his eyes opened, he—”
“That isn’t what I was referring to,” Jessie interrupted sharply. It seemed this carnal tale would never end. “We came here because of your accident, to see how you were doing.”
There was a strange moment of silence. Jessie tilted her head and lifted her ear.
“Accident?” Marjorie finally said. “What in hell is she talking about, Tracy?”
“Oh…” Jessie heard the hesitation in Tracy’s voice. “Jessie is just confused,” she said quickly. “On the way over here I was telling her about the time you fell off that stepladder and fractured your ankle. She must have thought it had happened recently.”
“Oh,” Marjorie said. “That stupid time. Well, isn’t it true that household accidents are the most common? Do you like the wine, Jessie?”
“What?” What was going on? Jessie wondered.
“The wine, my homemade wine,” Marjorie cried. “It takes so long to make a mere quart and I use only the best berries.”
“Oh, yes. It’s very good.”
“Then why don’t you drink it?” Marjorie laughed again. “Let me get the sweet cakes. I just took a fresh batch out of the oven and I’m sure they’re cool enough now. I’ll be right back.” She rose from her seat, stopped in front of Jessie and took hold of the hand that held the wineglass, then raised it toward Jessie’s lips, just as before. “Drink up, Jessie. There’s plenty where this came from,” she added, and stood there until Jessie took another sip. Then she left.
Jessie listened keenly to her footsteps disappearing down the corridor and then she turned toward Tracy.
“What’s going on? Why did you say I was confused about her accident?” she demanded. “What was all that about falling off a ladder?”
“Obviously Marjorie’s had a lapse of memory,” Tracy said quickly. “Dr. Beezly told Henry it’s very common in cases like this. Part of her mind wants to reject what has happened, refuses to remember. It’s sort of a self-defense mechanism. It won’t do us any good to try to remind her, and it may do her some harm.”
“But she’s acting so strange, so different. Telling us about her sex life like that and laughing after everything. Don’t you think she’s radically different?”
Tracy lowered her voice.
“Yes, but I think I like her better this way. There’s no doom and gloom in her face and she’s not telling us all that weird stuff. She looks happy. Maybe we should be happy, too, and just leave well enough alone,” she said. “Don’t you like her wine, though?”
“What? Oh yes, it’s nice. Maybe a bit sweet. I can’t drink a lot of it. It’s heavy and I think it’s already going to my head.”
“That’s all right. Don’t worry. She won’t remember how much you’ve drunk. If she keeps insisting, I’ll tell her we had another glass while she was gone.”
“Is this house really filled with so many expensive things?” Jessie inquired.
“Absolutely not,” Tracy said. “It’s one of her fantasies. The vase we were talking about is brass.”
Jessie shook her head.
“How sad,” she said.
“Here we are,” Marjorie suddenly announced. Jessie nearly jumped in her seat. She hadn’t heard her returning footsteps. Had the woman tiptoed back?
Marjorie placed a tray on the table and then brought a cake to Jessie.
“Thank you,” Jessie said.
“Now, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” Marjorie said.
Jessie bit into the soft dough. At first it was absolutely without taste, almost like chewing flavorless gum, but then there was a surge of flavor, a strange taste that flowed over her tongue and filled her mouth. The closest thing she could think of was clove.
“Interesting,” Jessie admitted, nodding.
“What a nice way to say you don’t like it,” Marjorie said, and she and Tracy laughed.
“It’s not that I don’t like it exactly. It’s so different from anything I’ve eaten that I’m a bit surprised,” Jessie explained. She didn’t want to add that she couldn’t eat much of it, just as she couldn’t drink much of this wine. “What’s in it?”
“Oh no. I never give away my recipes. Which is much nicer than what an aunt of mine used to do. She would give away her recipes, but she would always leave out an ingredient, or change a proportion so that whoever made the food would never get it as good as she could.”
“No, I wouldn’t make it,” Jessie said, surprised herself at how frank she was. Was it because of the effect this wine was having on her? Her tongue seemed free of inhibitions suddenly.
Marjorie laughed.
“That’s being honest. Don’t worry, dear. You don’t have to eat any more of it,” she said. “Now Tracy here is just gorging herself.”
Jessie couldn’t help smirking skeptically. How could she be?
“Um,” Tracy said, her mouth full, “I just love this. What do you call it, Marge?”
“It’s my own special devil dog,” Marge said, and laughed again. Was it the wine? Jessie wondered once more. This time Marjorie’s laugh became thick, heavy, deep, like the laugh of a man. “I do hope you really like my wine, though,” she said to Jessie. “Otherwise I’m a total disaster,” she moaned, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Oh no, it’s good. Really,” Jessie said, and demonstrated by taking another long
sip. Then she put the glass of wine down and sat back.
“So how has Lee been since his first game?” Marjorie asked. “Henry told me what happened.”
“He’s very upset,” Jessie said. “He’s going to speak to Henry about it today.”
“Oh?”
What’s wrong with me? Jessie wondered. I didn’t want to tell them that, especially not Marjorie.
“And what is he going to say to Henry?” Marjorie pursued.
Jessie felt herself struggling to think of something other than the truth. Her mind did somersaults. Words came and went.
“He wants…” She felt a little warm and, suddenly, a bit dizzy. It was as if the sofa were beginning to spin. She clutched her thighs.
“Yes? He wants?” Marjorie coaxed. “What does Lee want?” she asked, sounding a bit impatient.
“To tell him how unhappy he was with the way Henry spoke to the boys afterward in the locker room,” Jessie said. The words just flowed out. She tried biting down on her tongue afterward, but her mouth snapped open again. “He thinks Henry should have reprimanded them instead of complimenting them.”
“Oh? What else does he want to say to Henry?” Marjorie demanded.
“He wants to give notice.”
“Give notice? You mean, Lee wants to quit Gardner Town High School?” Tracy asked quickly.
Jessie swallowed and nodded. She couldn’t help it; she couldn’t hide the truth.
“Yes,” she said, and then, for no reason she could imagine, she began to cry.
She bawled like a baby, sobbing about bad things that had happened to her in her past, going back as far as the time Sarah Feinberg took her rag doll and ran off. On and on she went, recounting her life until she reached the accident. And all the while Tracy and Marjorie sat listening, occasionally comforting her, consoling her as if she were only five years old.
Finally, exhausted, she lay back. Marjorie got up quickly and came to her side to embrace her and stroke her hair softly.
“There, there,” she said, “everything will be all right now. You’re safe now.”
Her words were soothing, soft, like a lullaby. Jessie felt herself drifting, sinking, falling through a fleshlike dark tunnel with walls that oozed a cool, slimy substance, which made it impossible for her to slow or stop her descent. She fell into a pool of icy darkness, shattering it so that it exploded around her like bolts of lightning, and then all grew quiet and darker.
Suddenly there was a tiny pinpoint of light above her and she began to ascend, rising out of the pool and shooting toward the surface to gasp air. Her heart pounded and a rush of blood filled her face with heat. She felt like she was stifling. A surge of panic flowed through her body as she groped at the air in front of her.
And then, as suddenly as it had come over her, it all began to ease off. She began to breathe more regularly. She had been submerged, come up from under whatever cloud had fallen over her. Marjorie had returned to her seat. Jessie realized she was lying back on the sofa and sat up quickly. She had no idea how long she had been lying there like that.
“What?” she cried as if someone had said something.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Marjorie asked.
“Yes, I…what were we talking about?” she asked. Thoughts were so jumbled.
“The PTO dinner dance,” Marjorie replied. She continued in a nonchalant tone, as if nothing had happened. “As I said, it will be a potluck supper and so each of us is making something. What do you want to make, Jessie? You said you would make something.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” Marjorie said, still laughing. “Don’t you call me absentminded, Tracy. We have a new champ.”
“I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe the wine. I…”
“We’re talking about the PTO dinner,” Marjorie repeated. “What do you want to contribute?”
“Oh. I…what about potato salad?”
“Excellent,” Marjorie said. “Tracy?”
“That’s great,” Tracy said. “It’s always a nice affair, Jessie. You will enjoy it and it will give you the chance to meet a great many more residents of the community.”
“People who really care,” Marjorie emphasized. “People you would want to meet.”
“Exactly,” Tracy said. They heard the doorbell.
“Oh, another visitor,” Marjorie cried. “Please excuse me.”
“I feel so strange,” Jessie said as soon as Marjorie had left the room. “Like I lost consciousness or something.”
“It must have been the wine,” Tracy said. “You were right about not being able to drink too much of it.”
“What happened to me?”
“You started babbling and crying.”
“I did? Oh, I’m so ashamed.”
“It’s all right. The way Marjorie is, nothing surprises or upsets her. We calmed you down, you stopped, and we started talking about the upcoming PTO affair. I knew you were drifting in and out of the conversation a bit.”
“That’s an understatement,” Jessie said, rubbing her cheeks. She turned toward the doorway when she heard Marjorie’s laughter.
“Look who’s here,” Marjorie exclaimed as she returned to the room. “Our own good Dr. Beezly.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything or intrude,” Dr. Beezly said. “I just stopped by to see how Marjorie was doing.”
“Oh, Dr. Beezly,” Tracy said, “you could never be accused of intruding.”
“Thank you. Hello, Jessie. How are you?”
“I’m all right,” Jessie said quickly.
“Um, you look a bit flushed.”
“I think I drank a little too much wine,” Jessie confessed.
“Oh,” Dr. Beezly said. “Marjorie’s famous elderberry wine, eh? Yes, I’ve been known to imbibe a bit too much myself. It’s addictive.”
“I’ve discovered,” Jessie said. Dr. Beezly laughed.
“Well, it’s very nice of you two to stop by. I’ll just borrow my patient for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”
“It’s all right, Doctor,” Tracy said. “Actually we have to be going.”
“Yes,” Jessie said firmly. She was so anxious to leave, she stood up abruptly, but the quick move, on top of how she felt, caused her to become dizzy and lose her balance. Dr. Beezly was at her side first, practically flying through the room. He seized her around the waist.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
“Yes, I just had a little dizzy spell. I don’t know…”
“I guess you did have a little too much wine. Marjorie, you should be ashamed of yourself,” Dr. Beezly chided.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I’m all right now,” Jessie said. “Please, don’t make a big thing of it.”
“Just sit down for a moment more,” Dr. Beezly advised, and firmly guided her back to the sofa. He continued to hold her hand. She felt the heat from it travel up her arm and over her shoulders, a warm pulsating glow that soothed and relaxed her muscles. But then suddenly his touch changed: his fingers felt rough and scaly and he seemed to have long, sharp fingernails. Jessie grimaced and he quickly released her. Instantly the heat retreated down her shoulders and her arm, leaving her chilled for a moment. She shuddered and took a deep breath.
“All right?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” she said quickly. She didn’t want him to touch her. “I’ll try again. We really have to be going,” she said.
“Oh, really, I don’t mean to break anything up. Please, stay,” Dr. Beezly implored.
“No, we do have errands,” Tracy said. Jessie was grateful when Tracy came to her side and helped her to stand. “All right?” Tracy asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Well, okay then,” Dr. Beezly said. Jessie knew he was still standing very closely to her. She could feel his hot breath caress her face. “Now, Jessie, I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about you. Can I come by your place tom
orrow afternoon, say about two o’clock.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I—”
“I won’t be there long. I promise. I never overstay my welcome.”
“That’s very nice of Dr. Beezly,” Marjorie said. “You should take advantage of his generosity,” she added in what sounded like a threatening tone.
“Of course I wouldn’t do anything or recommend any treatment without first consulting with the physicians who originally treated you,” Dr. Beezly added.
“You don’t have to be afraid of Dr. Beezly,” Marjorie said, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“She’s not afraid of me, are you?” Dr. Beezly asked.
“Of course not.” Jessie paused, but sensed that they were all waiting for her to respond. “Fine,” she finally said. “Two o’clock will be fine.”
“Great. I’ll put it in my appointment book immediately,” the doctor said. “Now, as for this wine thing, take a couple of aspirins right away and lie down; otherwise you will wake up with a real hangover, I’m afraid.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “I will. Thank you.” She turned toward Tracy, who began to guide her out.
“Well, we’ll be going then,” Tracy said. “Marjorie, you call if you need anything, anything at all.”
“Thank you, dear. And thank you, Jessie, for stopping by. I’m sorry about the wine.”
“I’ll be all right. Really. I feel so silly.” Suddenly she giggled. She couldn’t help it.
“Don’t forget now, you’re down for potato salad,” Marjorie called as they started toward the front door.
“And don’t forget the two aspirins,” Dr. Beezly added.
“I won’t forget,” Jessie said. The moment the door was closed behind them, she took a deep breath of relief. “I really do feel so stupid. I must have made such a fool of myself.”
“No, no, believe me, it was nothing. It took Marjorie’s mind off her own problems.”
“She doesn’t seem to have any problems anymore,” Jessie said. It came out like a complaint.
“Well, maybe this accident was a good thing, then. She’s outgoing again and eager to participate in community affairs. Her face is full of life and excitement. Maybe,” Tracy suggested, “having that hair dryer fall into the bathtub was like an electric shock treatment. You know, a treatment they give mentally ill people. It ripped her out of her depression. Don’t you think that’s possible?”
After Life Page 11