by Mara Jacobs
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
“It’s okay,” her mother said. “I’ve got it from here. You girls go on now. You’ve done so much.”
She grabbed her coat and she and Sherry headed for the door. As they were leaving, she turned around and saw her mother seating herself in the chair she’d sat in next to her husband for year after year, taking his hand lovingly.
Alison quietly closed the door behind her, leaving the lovebirds alone.
Twenty-Five
There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
~ Carl Gustav Jung
Two weeks later Alison got a call from James’s therapist in Appleton telling her that James wished to talk with Alison. She spoke with the therapist for a long time about the best course of action and they finally decided that she’d drive to Appleton and be present during James’s session with his new therapist.
Which is where she now sat.
Cameron Rowe was a psychologist that Alison greatly admired. They’d met at a conference years ago and had conferred with each other on different cases many times. She knew James was in good hands with Cam.
“I wanted to apologize to you in person,” James said to her once they were all settled in Cam’s beautifully decorated room he used for sessions. It was much swankier than Alison’s, but then, Cam didn’t have the view that she did.
“I told your parents, and Cam, that it wasn’t necessary, James, but it’s good to see you.”
He sighed, his hands stilled, and he looked her in the eye for the first time since he’d walked in. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“Is it good to be home?”
He turned his head, like he did in her office, but there was no window here. He turned back to Alison. “Some days, yes. Some days I wish I was back in Houghton.”
“Is that a goal for you, James? To return to Tech?” Alison asked. She and Cam had decided that he would stay silent as much as possible so James didn’t feel they were tag-teaming him in any way.
“I guess. I’ve got to do something, right?”
“For now, you can just concentrate on yourself. I know your parents want that for you, too.”
He grimaced. “I know they do. I know my mom is…”
“She loves you, James, and would like to help you. She just doesn’t know how, and that’s frustrating for any parent—to not be able to help their child,” Alison said.
“I know. But she can’t help. I’m afraid no one can.”
“There is help, James. Cameron. Myself. Your parents. But mostly you. You’re your own best asset James. You just need to let people help where they can.”
“But you can’t stop the sadness. You can’t stop the pain.”
“I know some days it feels like a black hole. But I also know you have good days, too. You’ve told me about them. We just need to concentrate on those good days. You need to stay on your meds too, James.”
He looked away guiltily.
“That’s imperative, James. The pain can sometimes be too big for us alone. Some pains stay with us forever, and some we can conquer and move on. The trick is to let go of the ones you can.”
They talked for another hour, James contributing more than she thought he would. When he left, he said he hoped to see Alison again—back in Houghton when he felt able to return to school.
She and Cameron went to lunch and discussed the case for another two hours, then Alison started the four-hour drive home.
She’d been lucky that the roads were bare when she’d left home early this morning. By now a heavy snow was coming down. To make it worse, it was that dense, wet snow that made the roads so treacherous.
By Iron Mountain, she was white-knuckling the steering wheel and decided to pull over for a while to see if it got any better. Still stuffed from lunch with Cam, she decided to just find a coffee shop and write down some notes from her session with James.
She saw a sign for one, but their small parking lot was filled, so she drove past it to the next parking lot, pulled in, and parked her car. Something seemed familiar and then she realized it was the same parking lot—to some insurance company—where she and Petey had been when she’d miscarried.
She quickly brushed those memories aside, grabbed her bag, and walked through the snow to the coffee shop.
Two hours later the snow had stopped, the roads were drivable, and Alison hadn’t written one note in her files. Oh, she’d thought about James at first. About discussing pain. But soon the memories of the pain she’d felt all those years ago in this town—two parking lots over—dominated her thoughts as she nursed a coffee.
Her dad had been right—she had let that pain rule her choices. And what she’d said to James was right, too. That you had to learn from pain and move on from it when you could.
And then she thought about Petey. More specifically, how great Petey had been that horrible day here in Iron Mountain.
He really had been a prince to her that day. She’d been too wrapped in her own pain and fear that day to really acknowledge it. And she knew she’d been unfair to him—had known it even then.
And she’d held on to the pain, she could admit that. Not only held on to it, but morphed it into the antagonistic relationship she’d developed with Petey for the next eighteen years.
Oh, he’d given as good as he got through the years. But if she was honest with herself, he’d only been following her lead.
She’d counseled her patients about working through pain, about letting it go. And yet she never really had.
Could she? Now? After all the time that had passed?
Or was it too late for her and Petey? Had she finally pushed him away one too many times?
As soon as she saw the snow plow go by, she gathered up her things and left the coffee shop. Once in her car she took a deep breath, looked around the parking lot, and said farewell to that awful time for good.
She put her foot on the gas and headed home.
Twenty-Six
One is very crazy when in love.
~ Sigmund Freud
“Red Wings score!” the announcer bellowed from the television as Petey sat watching the game with his father.
It’d been over two weeks since he’d left Alison’s, and there was still no word from her. So that was it. Done. Over before it’d even begun. Just like eighteen years ago.
And just like eighteen years ago, she’d ripped his heart out.
“They’re going to make a run for it. I know it,” Dan Ryan said to Petey.
“What?”
His father pointed to the TV. “The Wings. They’re going to go all the way. You’ll get your ring yet.”
“Dad, I won’t get a ring.”
“Oh yes, you will. I looked it up. You played just enough games to qualify if they win the Cup.”
“I don’t want to skate by on a technicality. If they win, it will be without me, and I’m not going to show up to collect a ring.” He felt so shitty about it he couldn’t even enjoy the good skate pun.
His father started to say something, but looked at Petey and smartly kept his mouth shut.
It’d been a long two weeks, and he and his father had had some very tense moments. Starting tomorrow, Petey was taking a room at his friend Jules’s motel for the remaining time until he could get back into his own place or until he headed to Detroit to take care of things there. He’d probably come by here for a few meals, but staying elsewhere would help ensure that he and his father didn’t kill each other.
It wasn’t so bad during the day when his parents were at work. And since Petey had started driving again a week ago, he’d been meeting Darío most days to discuss their new business venture.
Which he still hadn’t told his parents about.
He was waiting until he could leave the house and go to his motel room for that.
“Hey, they’re talking about you,�
�� his father said, pointing at the television.
“He is definitely missed, that’s for sure,” one announcer said to the other, presumably about him.
“The defenseman they brought up has done a good job, but Pete Ryan is a hard act to follow.” Petey puffed up a little bit.
“You’ve got that right. I’ve never seen a more brave player on the ice. One who put his whole heart and body into every shift….”
The announcer went on, but Petey stopped listening. They were right—he was fearless on the ice and always had been.
So why in the hell was he so afraid of a five-foot nothing Laplander?
He got to his feet, reached for his crutches and then pushed them aside. Nope, no crutch for this job. He left the living room and went to the front foyer, where he started putting on his parka. His father followed him out. “Where are you going so late?”
“Out,” he said and started to leave, then stopped. No. Do it right. He turned to face his father. “I’m going to Alison’s and I’m going to beg her give me a chance. Give us a chance. At a real future together.”
His father looked at him with shock, then disgust. “You’re just lonely, and out of circulation. You just—”
“No, Dad. It’s not out of loneliness. I love Alison. I’ve loved her since my senior year in high school. Though there were years in there when I absolutely could not stand her—I still loved her.”
“As a friend, sure. Like you love Lizzie.”
“Nope. Not even close to how I feel about Lizzie.”
“But…but….”
“And hopefully she’s going to be in the picture for a while, so you better get used to the idea of her and me. And while you’re at it, you better get used to the idea that I’m going into business with Darío. We’re going to build that indoor driving range I told you about.”
His father stared at him, his mouth open. Before he could spew out the words sure to come, Petey zipped up his jacket and walked out the front door. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard the door open behind him and his father shout, “Petey!”
He stopped and debated just leaving but finally turned around, ready to hear what his dad had to say.
“Be careful on those stairs,” his father said to him. And then, holy shit, he just smiled, turned around and walked back inside.
***
Alison sat on her bed, Petey’s note in her hand.
She read it again, for the third time in the twenty minutes since she’d found it.
Al,
First off, thanks for letting me crash here. I know it wasn’t easy on you, but it sure made the last few days bearable for me.
I don’t really know what happened today, but I know I blew it—again. I know the idea of us as anything more than friends with benefits scares you to death, but it shouldn’t. We’re so good together, Al, and in more than just sex (though that’s pretty fucking great!). There’s no one who challenges me more than you do. No one who I want to be at my best for.
Okay. I’ve been a pussy long enough. So, here it is:
I love you. I always have. I haven’t always liked you…but the love was always there.
I know I wasn’t the man you needed me to be at nineteen, and I’ve had to live with that.
All I ask is that you give me a chance to show you now the man I’ve become.
Please. Let’s take a chance. Together.
I’ll wait for you to call.
Petey
“What are you doing?” Petey said from her doorway, scaring the living crap out of her and causing her to drop the letter.
“How’d you get in here?” she asked, rising from the corner of the bed.
“You never lock the door. A habit you’ve got to break.” He looked at the note on floor, and at her open panty drawer. “You just found it?”
She nodded. “I ended up staying in the guest room. I just washed the clothes I’d brought there and put them back in that dresser.”
“You haven’t slept in here since I left?”
She shook her head and watched as he looked at the bed, still made up the way he’d left it. He walked into the room and she noticed he wasn’t wearing the brace. Or using crutches.
“How’s your knee?” she asked, still stunned that he’d walked in now, like she’d conjured him up or something just by reading his letter.
“Good. I’ve been driving for about a week now. I’m going to take Annie skating on Saturday.”
“That’s nice.”
He reached her and bent down, still a little stiffly, and retrieved his letter. “It’s been royally messing with my head, you know, thinking you read this two weeks ago and had nothing to say.”
“I’m not sure what to say now.” She was telling him the truth.
He glanced at the open dresser drawer. “So if you’re in the next room, why were you in your panty drawer tonight?”
She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to know the truth. But he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Al?”
“There was one pair I couldn’t find. I thought they’d be in the other room. They should have been. But they weren’t, so I thought maybe they were in here.”
“The black satin ones?”
“Yes. And I thought—wait. How did you know that?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Why did you need the black satin panties tonight?”
“I…I….”
“Were you going to call me tonight, Al? Even before you found the note?”
She started to deny it, to not give him the satisfaction. Then she glanced at the letter he still held. Thought about what it’d taken for him to write it. “Yes. I wanted to see you tonight. After I left my parents, I started thinking. Thinking about us. And….” He started to grin. “Oh, all right. I was going to call you and I wanted to have those panties on if I saw you tonight.”
She started to step away from him, but he reached out and held her wrist. “And do you? Have those panties on?”
She shook her head. “I saw the note and started reading it. I never really looked.”
“You wouldn’t have found them.”
“No?”
He shook his head and set the note on the bed, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out her panties.
“See. There was good reason to warn you to stay out of my panty drawer, ya perv,” she said, but there was humor in her voice.
And then he flashed that grin. It nearly took her breath away. He moved closer to her, still holding on to her wrist.
And then a thought hit her. “Wait. If you thought I read your note two weeks ago and didn’t respond, what are you doing here? Now?”
His grin widened. He brought her wrist behind her back and then released her hand and slid his palm down to her ass, which he grabbed, pulling her close. “Because my knee is better and I’m here to make good on my promise.”
She looked at him, puzzled, and then she got it. She broke from him and made for the door, but he wrapped a hand around her waist before she’d gone five feet. He picked her up off the ground and whirled her around, depositing her on the bed.
“That’s right. I’m here to chase you, Al.” He bent down and kissed her, long and hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, loving the weight of his big body on top of hers. He raised his head and looked down at her.
“And this time, I’m going to catch you.”
~*~
Epilogue
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
~ Sigmund Freud
Six months later
Alison readjusted in the chaise lounge, trying to get optimal sun. She heard rustling and opened her eyes to see Katie and Lizzie next to her on the lawn doing the same thing on their loungers. She smiled at the familiarity of it all. They’d been doing this for nearly twenty-five summers. And before they’d become sun goddesses, they’d been playing games on this lawn every summer.
Some things never changed.
Sam Robbi
ns picked that moment to start crying, which caused Peaches Luna to join in, causing their mothers to gather the babies off the blanket beside their chairs and start digging in diaper bags.
Okay, some things changed plenty.
The babies, sitting on their respective mothers’ laps, reached for each other and Alison saw a possible romance in the making.
“They are so going to be high school sweethearts,” Alison said, watching as Sam shared a Cheerio with Peaches.
“That won’t be possible,” Darío said as he left the nearby picnic table and swooped up a cooing Peaches from her mother’s arm. “You see, Peaches will not be dating until she’s thirty.” He took the bottle that Katie held up for him and returned to the picnic table, settled Peaches on his lap and proceeded to feed his daughter.
“Good luck with that,” Alison said. “If she has her mother’s looks she’ll have to start beating them off with a stick in middle school.”
Darío said something Spanish under his breath and held his daughter even tighter. Katie, apparently able to hear—and understand—her husband, laughed. “It’s okay honey, it turned out okay for me. It will for Peaches, too.”
The couple smiled at each other.
Finn, who was sitting at the table with Darío, came and gathered up baby Sam, bottle, the blanky that seemed glued to Sam, and joined Darío and Peaches at the table. He barely had the bottle in Sam’s line of vision before the eight-month-old was tearing it away from his father and jamming it into his mouth.
“Just like his Uncle Petey—needs to get that nipple in his mouth,” Petey said as he joined the group at the table. He’d been playing with Annie in the lake where she remained, swimming with strong strokes, her legs kicking wildly.
He now stood drying himself off with a towel, his amazing body glistening with water. His comment was greeted with groans from them all, thrown Cheerios and a combination head shake/eye roll from Alison.
“What?” he said, his hands up in surrender. “Just telling the truth.”