Coming To Terms

by Patricia Watters

  As she settled beside him, Jerry said, "We could have flown back with them. It seems pointless to continue this charade."

  "Not completely pointless," Andrea said. "One good thing came of it. You and my father are talking like normal people. In fact, you actually seem to like each other."

  "He's okay," Jerry replied, and offered nothing more.

  Taking his response as a positive, Andrea said, "My father's changed too, which will make things better when we're at family occasions."

  Jerry looked at her like she'd lost touch with reality. "What family occasions?"

  "Well, maybe Christmases at my folk’s house. You could be there with the girls and their families now. I'm sure you and I could endure one day a year together. And maybe Easter too. And the children's birthdays. And maybe my father would come to the lake house now. We could surely get along for a couple of weeks a year to do that."

  "Yeah, well, maybe I should just move into one of those suites at your parent's house now that we're all buddies," Jerry commented, with irony.

  "Not permanently," Andrea said, as if Jerry had made a valid suggestion, "but you could visit there some so you and my dad could build a kind of a father-son relationship."

  "Right. And while we're fantasizing, maybe you and I could get together once a week at either your place or mine so we could nail each other to the bed."

  "Why are you doing this?" Andrea asked.

  "Doing what?" Jerry replied, while looking out the cab window, his way of shutting her out when she was trying to initiate something, anything but what was happening.

  "Ruining the one thing that was special about our marriage."

  "If you're talking about sex, I couldn't tell it by you over the past couple of years because whenever I got the urge you curled up in bed with your back to me."

  Andrea folded her arms. "Well you certainly can't claim I had my back to you on the beach."

  "I don't want to talk about the beach," Jerry snapped.

  "Fine! Let's just pretend I didn't try to initiate a conversation for the duration of this taxi ride, but it is a bit ironic that you're the one turning your back to me now."

  Jerry let out a snort of derision and said nothing.

  When they stepped out of the taxi onto the docks, a warm, gentle breeze from the Atlantic swirled around them, bringing with it the scent of salt sea air mingled with fresh fish from the bins of the fishing vessels tied to the wharf. Among the vendors set up on the docks, a rake 'n' scrap band was making a terrible musical racket, presumably to welcome the cruise ship. A short distance beyond the band, passengers Andrea recognized from the ship, had gathered at a thatched-roof tiki bar, the Danforths among them.

  Lillian Danforth caught sight of them and motioned for them to come over. When they did, Lillian said, with enthusiasm, "It's so good to see you. When the steward went around from room to room asking about the two of you, we wondered if something happened, and when neither of you showed up for dinner we were really concerned, but when they announced over the loud speakers that you had food poisoning and would be rejoining us later, we were very relieved."

  "Moral to the story," Andrea said, "don't eat conch chowder or drink unbottled water at dingy little greasy-spoon hideaways."

  Lillian laughed. "Well it's fortunate Jerry was with you."

  Andrea realized the Danforths had no idea who she'd been with that evening, nor had they seen her in her outrageous Armani outfit. She was also certain the news of Alessandro's death hadn't reached the island newspapers or made its way to the cruise ship, but in another day or two it would, and it would be a hot topic of conversation aboard.

  "Yes, Jerry was a big help. I'm not sure how I would have gotten to the medical clinic without him." She looked at Jerry, who said nothing.

  Lillian didn't seem to read anything into Jerry's lack of response, continuing by saying, "I mentioned the first night at dinner that there wasn't a better place to get to know each other than on a cruise, and now the two of you have had two days alone on a tropical island to get better acquainted." When neither Andrea nor Jerry replied, Lillian said, while looking from one to the other, "I assume you're better acquainted. At least you have matching batik outfits, which I find kind of sweet."

  Andrea looked down at her batik shirt and slacks, then at Jerry's, which were not identical, but a close match, and said, by way of explanation, "Jerry bought the outfits when I was in the medical clinic and the ship sailed off with our clothes. All there was on the island was batik from the batik factory. Even our swim suits are batik."

  Lillian looked at Jerry, then at Andrea. A puzzled expression crossed her face as she said to her, "You know, it just occurred to me that when the steward asked about you, he asked about Andrea Porter. Are you and Jerry somehow, related?"

  Andrea looked at Jerry, who shrugged indifferently as if he didn't care at this point what she said. "Well, as a matter of fact we're… married."

  Lillian said nothing, just stared, speechless.

  "It's a long, complicated story," Andrea offered, "but to sum it up, Jerry and I were planning to get a divorce, but before we had a chance to tell our three daughters they surprised us with a cruise for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, so here we are." She felt an odd sense of relief in finally coming clean with the truth.

  "I see," Lillian said. "That explains a lot of things. Maybe your girls gave you the cruise to get you two back together."

  "Oh no," Andrea replied. "They know nothing about what's going on with us. It will be a complete shock for them. They were already married and gone when things began to unravel."

  When all the focus turned to Scott... And today would have been his eighteenth birthday and no one cares...

  She caught Jerry staring at her, a grim look on his face, and knew he was thinking the same thing. Still, nothing was acknowledged. She looked around and realized Charlie Danforth and his father, Edward, had been standing there and also knew of the marital troubles of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Porter, not something she had intended on passing around the ship.

  Lillian gave Andrea's arm a little empathetic squeeze, looked beyond her, and said, "Well, here comes our guide, so now we can put everything else aside and go see the little monastery Monsignor Hawkes built."

  Wanting to go to the ship and close herself in Val's stateroom for the duration of the cruise, and avoid all further questions, Andrea said, "No, I don't think we'll be going."

  "Of course you will." Lillian said. "Both of you." She looked at Jerry, who shrugged as if he didn't care at this point, then at Andrea, who nodded in reluctant agreement, deciding it was easier to give in than to explain why not.

  The tour guide from the ship instructed the group to get into three vans that were waiting, and after a bumpy ride on an uneven road, they arrived at the monastery. The group hiked up a path to where the small medieval building sat on a cliff's edge, two-hundred feet above the ocean. While their tour guide explained about how Monsignor Jerome Hawkes hand-carved the steps to the monastery out of solid rock, and set all the stones of the building in place by hand, Andrea looked to where Jerry stood close to the edge of the cliff, gazing across the water.

  The look on his face was distant, and very sad, and she knew his thoughts were on Scott, just as her thoughts were. Her parents were right. They needed to put aside the blame game, even though she sensed if she attempted to do so, it would result in another futile foray into pointing fingers at each other.

  Casting aside that idea, she walked up to Jerry and stood next to him and gazed at the vast pink and white sand beaches and an endless turquoise sea lapping against the shore. Jerry didn't seem to mind that she was standing with him, or if he did, he said nothing. Bringing up a subject she hoped would not press any hot buttons, she said, "All the time I was growing up I knew nothing about what my father had done in Vietnam. I always figured my grandfather pulled strings to make sure my father wasn't in harm’s way while he was there. Funny that my father never talked about it."r />
  "Yeah, there are some things you just don't want to talk about," Jerry said, and they both knew exactly what he meant. After that comment, neither spoke. They just stood looking off in the distance, watching the water lapping on the shore. Restless. Relentless. Inexorable.

  When Jerry started to turn and walk away, Andrea grabbed his arm and said, "Jerry, we can't keep avoiding it."

  He shrugged from her grip. "Yeah, well, we're missing the tour." He headed back to join the others, and Andrea walked silently at his side.

  One of the things she couldn't fail to notice about the Danforths, from the moment they first met, was the strong connection between the couple, little things like what she saw now as they walked toward them—Lillian looking at Charlie and Charlie beaming. Charlie whispering something in Lillian's ear and she socking him playfully on the arm, and at the dining table, Lillian laughed at Charlie's every joke, even when it was inane. They radiated a joy in being married to each other, something she and Jerry once had, and somehow managed to lose along the way to where they were now.

  While the tour guide explained that Monsignor Hawkes had once been a famous architect, who came to Cat Island to seek solitude and live as the poorest of the poor, Edward Danforth stepped up to walk beside Andrea, who was walking with Jerry, and said, "My wife and I were married fifty-seven years. I learned a lot during that time."

  Andrea wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, and she knew Jerry didn't, but the old man didn't come across as meddling, so she looked at him, and said, "Fifty-seven years is a long time to be with the same person." She didn't mean to imply it the way it sounded, and she knew Jerry would take it as a barb—twenty-five years was too long to be with the same man. She could almost hear his snide comeback. Instead, Jerry surprised her by saying, "I imagine when you're with the right woman, it's not long enough." Meaning, when you're with the wrong woman it's too long, Andrea had to bite her tongue to keep from saying.

  "Yes," Edward said, wistfully. "Ethel and I talked about taking a cruise to the Bahamas for our sixtieth wedding anniversary, but we found out she had cancer, and she was gone soon after. She was quite a woman." His lips curved in a pleasant memory. "So, Lillian and Charlie decided we should take this trip for Ethel. Yesterday would have been our sixtieth anniversary, but we had fifty-seven wonderful years."

  "I guess that can happen when it's right," Andrea said.

  Edward looked askance at her. "No, it happens when you negotiate. This, I learned over the years. When you marry, you enter into negotiations to love and honor till death do you part, but the negotiations never stop at the altar. It's not like cutting a deal and you're done. Families grow. Needs change. Unexpected things happen, and you have to change to meet those needs, which means renegotiating. When the kids are babies, family needs are different than when they're school kids, and while the kids are growing up you use all the skills you've learned so far to meet the new changes and needs."

  Andrea thought about that. Were she and Jerry stuck in a rut? When had they ever negotiated about anything in the past few years? It was either her way, or Jerry's way. No in between. They were both always right when dealing with Scott, no matter how wrong they were. She glanced at Jerry, who eyed her soberly for a moment before looking away.

  Edward walked silently with them for a while before peering around Andrea at Jerry, and saying, "We were well into our married years when I learned not to take for granted that I knew how my wife felt." He gave a little chuckle. "In our earlier years I assumed when Ethel was quiet, that she was upset or angry. Then we'd go to our own corners of the ring and sulk, which solved nothing. We'd probably been married fifteen years before I learned that when she stopped talking I needed to ask, have I done something to make you feel bad? It might take a little coaxing, but then we'd talk, and the air cleared, and we were back to being in love again. Worked every time."

  A wise old man, Andrea decided. Wise, but not meddling.

  She glanced at Jerry, who looked a little uncertain, but he didn't walk away, his usual pattern when he didn't like what he was hearing.

  "Stress is wearing," Edward continued. "It leaves you alternating between being depressed and being quick to anger, until you feel on the verge of desperation and decide to call it quits. Instead of bonding during difficult times, you snap at each other or stop talking all together. And that's when it's time to figure out what you need to do to break the marital bad spell and negotiate a solution. Ethel and I were constantly negotiating, not like ongoing business deals, just little common courtesies like whose job it was to cook or clean the house a particular day after the kids were grown and gone and we'd both retired."

  No problem, Andrea realized. Jerry always provided her with a cook and a daily housemaid, and now that the girls were gone and it was just the two of them, Jerry was still working, and she still had the household help, just like Jerry promised to provide the day they married.

  A small tremor of guilt rippled through her.

  "You take care of your kids and your spouse, but you still have to take care of yourself," Edward said to both of them. "When you're involved with something that brings you joy, you're energized. You may have fewer hours to spend with your spouse, but the hours you have together will be quality hours. But you can't just state your plan for yourself without thought of how it will impact your spouse. You need to negotiate. You got into this marriage together, you need to resolve things together."

  Jerry was energized when he'd successfully cleaned up an oil spill, Andrea realized, but when he'd come home after several days of mopping up a mess, she was usually quick to remind him how long he'd been gone while she'd been running the house, and carting kids to lessons, and breaking up fights.

  I learned you married a good man. Don't be too quick to let him go.

  Carter Ellison III might also be a wise man. She'd think on that a bit.

  "But after the kids are gone," Edward continued, "you have to work at getting to know each other again. Before then, the focus was on the kids. Now it's on you. Embrace this time in your lives. Give yourselves credit for what you've accomplished together. Not what I did or what you did, but what we did, and be proud of each other as a team." Edward Danforth wandered off to rejoin his family then, leaving Andrea and Jerry standing on the path alone and staring at one of the hand-carved Stations of the Cross that neither of them really saw.

  ***

  Andrea and Jerry made their way up the gangway together, but once they stepped onto the ship they went to their individual staterooms. Andrea wondered if Val had learned about what happened to Alessandro from some other source since Val seemed to be in the jet-set loop, or if she'd at least wonder why he never returned to the ship. Other passengers could also start asking questions. But until she learned just how much they knew, Andrea decided she'd pass off the incident on Andros island as food poisoning, a day in the medical clinic, and a couple of days to recover and enjoy the island before rejoining the cruise.

  As she approached the stateroom, she hoped Val wouldn't be there. She wanted time alone to settle in before going into the lengthy explanation she was certain Val would expect, even it if was details of her stay at the medical clinic, and why Jerry had been with her, but to her dismay, she found Val standing in front of the long mirror while admiring an Armani outfit Andrea almost bought, but declined because it was so ridiculously expensive.

  "That Armani's stunning," she said to Val as she walked in, "but you could not possibly have paid for it with what you saved by sharing this stateroom with me."

  Val turned to her, and exclaimed, "You're back! When neither you nor Alessandro returned to the ship I thought you'd flown off to Italy with him, then word went around that you had food poisoning, but no one knew for sure."

  "It was food poisoning," Andrea affirmed, "something I ate at the little disgusting restaurant Alessandro took me to."

  "The place for lovers?"

  That term again. "More appropriately, a dive for lovers."
/>   "But Alessandro stayed there with you then?"

  "No," Andrea replied, realizing Val knew nothing about the fate of Alessandro Cavallaro. Deciding to keep things vague, she said, "Alessandro was called away on business before I got sick, and Jerry was at the restaurant and he made sure I got to the medical clinic."

  Val smoothed her hands down her ample bosom and looked at herself in the mirror. "Well, I wondered where he was too." She unfastened the top few buttons of the Armani jacket to reveal her cleavage. "Not that it mattered. He and I were already finished. He was a nice hunky guy but he's still too hung up on his wife, though I don't know why. From what he told me that first day she was pretty hard to get along with, but I think he liked you too. I noticed him staring at you a lot, but don't get your hopes up for anything more because, like I said, he's hung up on his wife. But that's okay because I have a real sugar daddy now and his name is Albert. I met him the third day aboard. He's kind of old, but really sweet, and rich as all get out."

  "How old?"

  "Fifty-one."

  "That's only three years older than Jerry, and you didn't think he was old."

  "That's because Jerry's put together right. He doesn't look like any forty-eight-year-old male I've ever met. But Albert's kind and considerate and a widower, and he likes buying me things." She turned sideways to the mirror and smiled. "Once I get him working out at the gym he might get rid of that little pot belly of his and firm up some, but the rest of him’s in pretty good working order. I suspect our relationship won't be just about bed games though, and that's all right. As long as he keeps me in new cars and Armani outfits I'm fine with that." She turned her back to the mirror and peered over her shoulder. "He's taking me out to get a new caddy when we get back. I told him I wanted pink, and he laughed and said I could get any color I wanted."

  "What did Jerry tell you about his wife?" Andrea asked, and saw at once the puzzled expression on Val's face.

  Val shrugged. "That he'd never been interested in any other woman since he married her and the idea of having sex with anyone else turned him off. He was embarrassed about the whole thing. Why do you ask? Are you interested?"