by Jason Zandri
Diane countered, “You are so much that man. I don’t understand how you’re so blind to it. You’ve helped me give to myself so much more than any man ever supposedly handed or tried to hand to me.” Diane frowned. “I don’t know what you think I want out of life, but I already have it. I am somewhere I’m wanted and needed. Here, I’m thought of as a whole person. I look forward to being here. I hate my days off. I don’t see you and I don’t see Matthew. Every time the phone rings at the house on my day off, I hope it’s you calling and you need me to come in. Haven’t you ever noticed I come in
for milk and bread on my days off? My mother tells me to bring them home, and I never seem to remember to do that the days I’m already here.”
Mark stepped back a little and looked over into the lit part of the store.
Diane looked over too, toward the office door, and then looked back.
“Your son sees what this is,” she said, pointing back and forth between them.
“He left the room quickly and made it clear he’d closed the door behind him.
It would be my guess that he wants you to be happy. Why don’t you want it for yourself?”
Mark maintained his silence while Diane put her hand to her lips. “Oh my God,” she said, blushing self-consciously. “You’re not attracted to me. I thought you were. I’m such an idiot.” Embarrassed, she spun away to leave.
Mark reached forward and stopped her. “It’s not that,” he said quietly, understanding that his emotions were escaping him. “It’s a lot of things, but if it were to be that, it would be the last thing. I can tell you that is not it.” She turned toward him, and he touched her face. “I don’t know if I can remember a time I saw a more attractive woman, inside and out.” Mark’s hand shook a little, and he attempted to draw it away, but Diane reached up and placed hers on his and pressed his palm back into her face. “If I have to just say it,” he said to her barely above a whisper, “I’m afraid.”
Diane stepped closer to him and looked up into his eyes.
“This isn’t easy for me,” Mark said quietly. “I guess I am the typical tough guy that really isn’t in touch with his feelings. Or, at the minimum, is reluctant to talk to anyone about them.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “I do need to talk about them, it, what happened. I had a few friends before, where I lived, when I was with Barbara, and before. They were all friends with one another, and when things went south, I just withdrew. These weren’t the type of guys that you talked to when you bared your soul. Dick and fart jokes were fine,” Mark said, chuckling a little and trying to lighten the mood. He felt so fatigued holding back everything he felt and keeping it all hidden. “I never was a smooth talker. I was always nervous and somewhat awkward around women, and there weren’t all that many of them. Barbara was different. She was such a free spirit. She had this natural way of putting everyone around her at ease. She was so inviting. But she hated the feeling of being trapped, and nothing trapped her more than getting
pregnant with Matthew. I figured I could persevere and be strong enough for the both of us. She could be the free spirit that kept my soul from being crushed when life wore me down, and I would be the driver and energy that could keep her grounded when that was needed in life.” Mark leaned over a little to look down the hallway to make sure Matthew hadn’t come out of the office. “I guess I was chasing this ideal scenario, and I figured if I just kept at it, that I could get there. Like happiness or success was some sort of destination to get to. Only recently have I figured out that being happy or successful is all in what and how you do what you do, and not all about
‘arriving.’ I don’t think it would have mattered to have discovered all this two years ago or so. What I had with Barbara, at best, ended before that. At worst it was an illusion, and I never had it, which means I misled myself all those years.” Mark sighed and took a deep breath. “I figured I'd get the chance one day to look back and reminisce over the different parts of my life where I hit some milestones with someone special. Thinking something like
‘that time there, we had it all, everything there was to have, in that one perfect moment.’ I can't look back and see much of anything I want to call a success. The most successful thing I get to lay claim to is that I’m bringing up one well-adjusted son. It’s huge, it’s not something I’m overlooking or underselling, but all my eggs are in that basket, and that scares the hell out of me too. It’s all I have to look forward to. It’s all I have to live for, beyond myself.”
Mark paused again to collect himself. Being on the edge of losing his composure, he stopped. With that pause, she took his hands into hers. “Funny thing how sometimes something like love, that’s supposed to be all encompassing and have so much depth and meaning, can lead to such isolation,” she said softly. “You can’t go on holding on to past times. People change. Sometimes they’re not even the people we thought they were in the first place. We either built them up to be something they weren’t or they were aware themselves of their own ‘tarnish’ and how it would put people off, so they hid it from view.” Diane offered a warm smile. “I realize you’re older than I am and have lived through more, and over time, simply seen more, but my life has been harder than it is for many others, so I’ve certainly seen my innocence end. Some wisdom and maturity have crept in. I remember when nothing mattered but the moment I lived at the time I lived it. I cherish those events, and I remember them fondly. I look back on them to remember a pinpoint moment of my life, for just that instant. I want that feeling back
again, but not that way. I don’t want the adrenaline rush of a two-minute roller coaster ride to make me feel alive, for lack of a better way to put it. I want the substance of an hour-long Sunday drive on a warm summer day to be the exhilaration that keeps me sated into the evening.” She stepped in toward him. “I know I can find that on my own, given enough time and effort. I don’t need a man or anyone else to give it to me. But I want someone to share it with. I want that someone to be you.”
Mark said nothing. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At the striking of the recess bell, Matthew went into the schoolyard.
The warm spring sun shone bright, and it made him squint. He went up the hill and stopped when someone called out his name. He turned, and Melissa waved him over. He touched the medical tape on his nose, feeling funny about the way it looked and having to talk to Melissa. He hesitated for a moment then went over to her.
“What’s up?” he asked, stopping just short of her, Carrie, and Alecia.
“Have you seen Tim Cafferty?” Alecia asked.
“No,” Matthew replied, a little nervous now that he’d been asked this question five times. “Why? Everyone’s asking, and no one will tell me why.
He’s not even in school today.”
“They suspended him for the day; for hitting you in the face. Did you know your father was here before?” Melissa asked. “He went to speak with Principal Beltmore.”
“Oh, I think I know what that was about,” Matthew said.
“Yeah, well, I heard from Doug that Tim’s been looking for you since your father left,” Alecia said in a snobby tone.
“How would you know that? How would Doug know that? Tim’s out today, so how would Doug talk to him?” Matthew tried to maintain his position of strength in the discussion.
“That’s true,” Melissa said, thinking it over. “See, Alecia,” she snapped, “this is why I hate all the ‘talk, talk, talk.’ No one ever knows what they’re talking about.”
“I would still watch myself, Matthew,” Carrie said.
“Or what?” Matthew asked. “Is he going to come after me with a kickball? I asked my father to talk to Principal Beltmore because I thought Cafferty was getting a bum deal. He didn’t aim for my face; he threw the ball, and I jumped. My face just happened to stop the ball.” Everyone laughed lightly. He touched the tape on his nose again, a little more self-conscious with the laughter. Th
en decided he wouldn’t worry about it. He could do little about it, and at least everyone found it funny.
Melissa leaned in. “You look fine,” she said, after seeing him touch
the tape. “In a week, no one will remember it.” Matthew returned her smile.
Carrie tugged on Melissa’s shirt then pointed over to Liz, who walked over.
“Wellsworth,” Melissa mumbled. She reached over and took Matthew’s hand. “Here, walk with me,” she said, shooting a look at Carrie, who got the message. Carrie nudged Alecia, and the two cut forward to stop Liz, then started a mundane conversation with her.
“So,” Melissa started as they walked away. “Diane told my mother she’s moving out. Joe isn’t as thrilled as I expected him to be. He doesn’t want her there, and yet when she told us, he stayed quiet.”
“Yeah,” Matthew said, then tipped his head and squinted into the sun.
“My Dad’s awesome at doing, like, ten things at once. He bought a three-family up the street from us, and it had an open unit. He’s not comfortable talking to me about everything. I’m not comfortable with all of it all of the time, either.”
“Your Mom?” Melissa asked quietly, squeezing his hand, which she still held. Matthew nodded. “I get it. I never hear from my Dad these days. I miss him. It bothers me when I think about it, so I don’t. I guess that makes us alike.”
Matthew’s slight smile became a little wider, and he looked away.
“What’s so funny?” Melissa asked. The two reached the fence at the far end of the fields and turned, leaning against the barrier.
“Nothing. It’s stupid,” Matthew said and swung their hands while playing with the tape on his nose with his free hand.
Melissa turned to face him and took his hand away from his nose.
“Stop,” she said softly. “You draw more attention to the tape when you keep bringing your hand up.”
“What else would people look at?” he asked.
“Your eyes,” Melissa responded with almost no hesitation. “Now, I was being nice and paid you a compliment. Tell me what was so funny,”
Melissa said, half giggling.
“It’s stupid and you’re going to make fun of me.” Matthew scuffed his foot on the ground.
“Well, I can’t promise I won’t poke fun at you, because we’re buds; it’s like an unwritten rule. Even if we are boy/girl. But I won’t think it’s stupid.”
Matthew paused for a moment then replied, “Okay, so what happens if Diane and my Dad like each other?”
“As far as?”
“Well.” Matthew squeezed her hand a little. “I like you. You like me.
If they get together …”
“Ooooh …” Melissa let his hand go. “Wait. … This isn’t even like the Brady Bunch.”
“What?” Matthew asked in genuine confusion.
“Carrie is always saying, ‘What if Greg and Marcia kissed?’ I know.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re girls; we talk about ridiculous stuff. Anyway, we figured that they’re only brother and sister by their parents’ marriage. Both had different mothers and fathers all the way around. So that make this conversation easy.” Melissa smiled and took his hand back. “Diane is my half-sister; same mother. So, if my half-sister was with your father, that’s even less than that, I think.”
Matthew smiled at her logic and stared into her eyes, wondering if it was just the spring air that made him feel so warm and comfortable.
***
Mark stepped out of the office area and looked about the store. Diane smiled and leaned forward. “Did you need something?” she asked.
“I wondered where Matthew went. He came in after school, finished his homework, and then left the office. I thought he was getting a soda or something, but he never came back in.”
Diane pointed over to the far end of the expansion area. “He grabbed a broom.” Mark looked over to see Matthew sweeping. “The deli station owner closed a little earlier than normal,” Diane said. “He cleaned up and left, and as soon as he did, Matthew went over. I didn’t even say anything. I assumed you told him to come out and help clean up.”
“Huh. And I thought the paper route would take a lot out of him.”
Mark waved over to Peter, who was closing up the coffee kiosk before
leaving as well. Matthew never looked up and kept on working.
“He’s driven,” Diane replied, smiling, “like his Dad. He wants you to notice. He wants you to be proud.”
“You sound sure.” Mark turned back toward her. “How are you so certain?”
“My father left my mother and me. All I wanted was for her to notice me. It’s all I wanted from the men I’ve been involved with. It’s why I’m so happy to work here. You notice me. Maybe that’s a bad thing, a weak thing, and throws a bunch of equality stuff out the window. I don’t care; that makes me happy and content, and I’m not afraid to say so.”
Mark nodded. “I notice you.”
“I hope for more than just my work,” Diane said quietly and looked away.
Mark walked over and leaned in. “The other night, we clearly stepped in a new direction.” He pointed over his shoulder to where their conversation had taken place. “You don’t have to be so shy and reserved; I notice you. A lot.”
A car pulled up beyond the gas pumps and parked in one of the freestanding spots. An older man, who looked to be in his late forties with slightly graying, short-cropped hair, stepped out of the car in dirty coveralls and walked toward the store entrance.
Mark stepped away to let Diane attend to the customer, and had just about walked through to the expansion section of the store, when the man called out, “Excuse me; I’m looking for Mark Sanford.”
“Hi.” Mark stopped short and extended his hand. “I’m Mark.”
“Mr. Sanford,” the man said, shaking his hand with an impressive grip, “my name is John Cafferty.”
Matthew stopped sweeping. Diane noticed the response.
John turned and pointed out to the car. “My son is Tim, and I guess he had a run in with your boy,” he said, indicating Matthew.
“It wasn’t really a run in. It was a gym thing. An accident,” Mark responded lightly. “Competitive boys. I’m sure you were one. I was.”
“Yes, sir.” John rubbed his hands together and sounded uneasy. “I came here just to say thank you for speaking with the Principal. Tim has a lot of social issues and digs his own grave a lot, but no one gives him a fresh start. Some might say he doesn’t deserve it, and he needs to earn it, but no one will let him. I’m hoping middle school does, but transcripts follow and, well … you know. Anyhow, I thought it made sense to stop in.”
“Anytime. And it was no problem. Matthew thought it was unfair, and that was good enough for me to go say something when he asked.” Mark looked down at his hand, which now was a little dirty from the handshake.
He rubbed his hands together to dull out the staining.
“I’m sorry about that; I thought I cleaned up better,” John said, looking past Mark and watching Matthew head out the far door over to the car.
“No worries. I’m surprised I didn’t make you dirty from the work I was doing before.” Mark motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “Did you come here straight from work?”
“Oh, no,” John said. “I’m out of work right now. I worked on my car this afternoon.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Mark asked.
“Well, I was a shop mechanic at Hyatt Insurance for about ten years.
You know, fixed all the ride pool and corporate vehicles. They retired the fleet and are paying employees mileage to use their own cars now, so they trimmed down the motor pool crew.”
“I presume you’ve been applying for other work? How’s the landscape?” Mark asked.
“Honestly, it’s not a rosy as I’d hoped. I figured lots of people need a mechanic, but honestly they either want part-time, or they aren’t paying with good benefits, or the pay is to
o low. My wife doesn’t work, so I need the health insurance.” John rubbed his hands together. “The local garages pay fairly, but like I said, I need the insurance. The unemployment is still coming, and I have a few more weeks. Worst case, I can try to find work at the steel plant; not as good on the shop floor as when I was younger, but you know ...”
Mark looked over at Diane, who had the pad out and a pen, and he smiled at her, touching his finger to his forehead and then pointing it over to
her. “Mr. Cafferty,” Mark said as he stepped away, “can you fill out your information for me?”
“John, please. Um … sure, do you know someone at the plant?” he asked, reaching over to take the pad.
Mark looked over at Diane, and then back. “Well, not exactly, John, but I figured if you gave me your information, and if you had a few minutes and could add your work history, and a couple of references, I could keep it on the side in case I was in a situation where I could forward your information along.”
John stared blankly at Mark for a second, opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped.
***
Matthew walked up to the passenger side of the car. Tim rolled the window down. “How’s your face, Sanford?”
Matthew reached up and touched the tape, but decided to fight fire with fire. His father was close, and he doubted it would make it worse. “It’ll heal with a little time. It’s a shame time can’t help yours.” Matthew responded with as much false bravery as he could front.
Tim opened the door and got out of the car. “What did you say?” He loomed nearly a foot taller over Matthew.
“You heard me.” Matthew tried not to sound nervous and held his ground. “You’re only prettier than me now because I stopped a ball with my face.”
Tim tried to keep his scowl but burst out laughing.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re pretty damn funny, Sanford. And you’ve got some stones too.” Tim took a step back and leaned against the car. “You’re all right.”
The two boys stood together in an awkward silence until Tim spoke again. “I know you know I wasn’t aiming for your head, so I’m sorry ‘bout your nose,” he said, choking back a laugh. “Stopped a ball with my face,” he mumbled with a grin. “Look.” He looked up. “You and your old man went to bat for me. I didn’t ask. You did it anyway. So I owe you one.” His tone shifted. “I don’t like owing people, so you tell me what you need and then