by Marly Swick
“A civil wrong, not including a breach of contract, for which the injured party is entitled to compensation,” Jess rattled off by rote.
Giselle smiled. “Sounds like catechism.”
“Yeah, only the law professor is God.” Jess sighed and stretched. Her torso was thin and pale. You could count her ribs. “Don’t ever go to law school.”
“Really?” Giselle sat down in the empty chair. “That’s funny because actually I was planning to. You know, before.” She picked up a lime green Magic Marker, uncapped it, and took a whiff. The smell made her nostalgic. She missed school. She missed feeling smart. She missed being asked questions she knew the answers to. These days she just felt out of her depth. When Teddy asked her, How can something be nobody’s fault? what could she say? Sorry, son, I didn’t read that chapter.
“You could still go,” Jess said, “couldn’t you?”
Giselle shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t have the energy to plan that far ahead right now.”
She had, in fact, been wondering lately about the law, in the abstract. According to the law, were there cases where no one was to blame? There was a lot of talk these days about “victimless crimes.” Was there such a thing, in the eyes of the law, as “crimeless victims”? Where do you draw the line between fault and guilt? If X is your fault, are you necessarily guilty of X? These were some of the questions she mulled over on sleepless nights.
“Torts is also Latin for ‘twisted,’” Jess added. “As in ‘twisted conduct.’” She sighed and flipped the book shut. “Brain-twister is more like it. After an hour reading this shit, my brain actually hurts.” She massaged her temples with both hands.
The phone rang and Jess leaped up to answer it. Giselle could tell she was talking to Vonnie, who was at the bar talking to some acoustical engineer about a new sound system. While Jess was on the phone, Giselle slid the book, Prosser on Torts, over to in front of her and opened it. She flipped the pages, skimming the boldface headings, occasionally stopping to read something Jess had highlighted in yellow or green. An italicized subheading, “Capacity to Bear Loss,” caught her eye, and she read:
Another factor to which the courts have given weight in balancing the interests before them is the relative ability of the respective parties to bear the loss which must necessarily fall upon one or the other. This is not so much a matter of their respective wealth. . . . Rather it is a matter of their capacity to absorb the loss or avoid it.
Who, she wondered, in their situation — herself, Dan, Teddy, Trina — had the better capacity to absorb the loss or avoid it? It didn’t seem to apply to their situation at all. She supposed the law must be thinking of financial losses. But what about other sorts of losses? The unbearable losses?
Jess turned to her and said, “Vonnie wants to know if you want to meet for dinner downtown. Around six. She doesn’t have time to come home.”
Giselle looked up and said, “What?” She was still absorbed in the book. Jess repeated what she’d said. Giselle shook her head. “Tell her I’m not up for it. I just got back from lunch.”
“She says she’s not up for it,” Jess repeated into the phone. “She just got back from lunch.”
Giselle stood up and walked into the guest room just in case Vonnie wanted to argue with her. Her sister never liked to take no for an answer. She would have made a good lawyer.
Her room was even hotter than the living room. She made a mental note to buy a fan the next time she went out. It was a different, more wilting kind of heat than what she was used to in California. She stripped to her underwear and lay down on the futon. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine making love with Jess, but she couldn’t. She got as far as Jess’s coming into her room and lying down beside her — and then nothing. It disturbed her to think she was still so uptight that she couldn’t even imagine making love to a woman. Or maybe it was because she used to baby-sit for Jess. And Jess’s thin, frail rib cage reminded her of Teddy’s. How she used to pull up his T-shirt and tickle his ribs while he squirmed and laughed, before he got too old for that sort of thing. A year ago, two years ago? Not that long ago, really, although already it seemed like another lifetime.
***
She must have fallen asleep, stunned by the heat. When she woke up, it was dusk. The sheets were soaked with sweat. A terrible, heavy lethargy pinned her to the bed. She struggled to summon the will to stand up before the depression paralyzed her. Loud music thudded down below; she heard the clatter of dinner dishes, convivial voices shouting to one another above the music. The aroma of barbecued meat wafted through the open windows. It seemed to her that she had never been more alone, not even when she left Ed — those first few shaky nights in cheap motels en route to California — or in the ugly furnished apartment in Northridge with its bare walls. Then she had Teddy to keep her going. And she had hope for a new life. Now she’d had her new life and lost it. She could feel the self-pity lengthening like shadows, stealing across her, and she forced herself to stand up. The capacity to bear loss. The phrase kept running through her brain. She pictured Rose Kennedy. How had she kept going? There was her faith; in interviews she always spoke of her faith. But what if Bobby had shot Jack — not on purpose, of course — say, a hunting accident? Maybe that would have shaken her faith. Not that Giselle had had any faith to begin with. Except for the usual belief that these things happen to other people, the people you see on the evening news.
Once she was up, she forced herself into the bathroom. The cold shower helped revive her. She borrowed an old madras sundress that she had found in the back of her sister’s closet, a dress that Giselle had actually given to Vonnie for her birthday about a decade ago. The cat was meowing in the kitchen, a plaintive whine. Giselle found a bag of Cat Chow and dumped some in a dish. She had never much liked cats, and the cat seemed to sense it. She checked to make sure the answering machine was on, and locked the door behind her.
It was warm but pleasant walking downtown, looking at the trees and flowers. At the bar everyone greeted her by name and seemed pleased to see her. Giselle put on an apron; when she wasn’t busy, Val taught her how to mix a few of the more exotic drinks: Singapore slings, fuzzy navels, golden Cadillacs. The time passed quickly. She fantasized about becoming a bartender and moving to a strange city where she didn’t know anyone, maybe even out of the country, Mexico or the Bahamas, someplace by the ocean where people on vacation from their real lives drank foamy elixirs with pineapple spears and paper umbrellas, and took snapshots of each other having the time of their lives. Or Japan. She could wear a kimono and serve sake in tiny cups and wait for the culture shock, like a giant tsunami, to wash the past away. She heard a laugh and glanced over to see her sister standing next to Jess, their hips touching, their arms around each other’s waist. Apparently Vonnie had moved on, even if there were still photographs of Bev all over the apartment. And Giselle was glad. Probably even Bev would be glad. But with a child it was different. What kind of parent would go off and leave a child behind? Even a dead child. Especially a dead child, who couldn’t cry out in protest, Mommy, don’t leave me!
Before she started going out with Dan, she had slept — or almost slept — with the mechanic who had replaced the fuel pump on her Honda. It was shortly after she arrived in California. He was handsome in a Tom Selleck sort of way — dark hair, dark mustache, white teeth, nice smile — and she was terribly nervous. He had come over — she had called him — after Teddy was in bed. So Teddy didn’t even know he was there. But just as the man entered her, at the moment of penetration, there was this shriek, like no noise Teddy had ever made before. “Mommy, Mommy, where are you?” he shouted over and over as she pushed the man off her, leaped out of bed, and ran to Teddy’s room.
“I’m right here,” she said, snapping on the bedside lamp and rocking him in her arms. “I’m here. Where else would I be?” She had rubbed his back through the thin pajamas until his shudders slowed enough for him to catch his breath.
�
��I dreamed I was dead,” he said. “I was in the dirt by myself.” He started to whimper again. She held him closer, wishing that the man in the next room would just get dressed and leave. Right before they had left Nebraska, Ed’s grandfather had died. Teddy hadn’t gone to the funeral, but they had taken him to visit the grave and leave some flowers for Granpa Bert. Later, on the ride home, she remembered Teddy sitting in the backseat chanting, “Granpa Bert is in the dirt.” She and Ed had exchanged a helpless look and shrugged.
When she got back to her bedroom, the man was already dressed; he said he’d better go. To his credit, he seemed more sad than mad. He was divorced and had a little girl who lived with her mother in Hawaii. And he had grown up in Omaha, which is how Giselle happened to strike up a personal conversation with him at the garage. He had noticed her Nebraska plates and walked over to say hello. They seemed to hit it off right away. But after that ill-fated night, he didn’t call back. And when the ignition switch needed to be replaced a couple of months later, she went to a different garage.
***
On Thursday she was sitting out on the front lawn when Ed drove up in his white van at five o’clock sharp. One thing she had always appreciated about Ed was his punctuality. They had argued on the phone earlier, when she told him she didn’t like Teddy riding around on that motorcycle. It was too dangerous. Ed blew up and said it wasn’t that dangerous, they always wore their helmets, and Teddy loved it. “He’s my kid, too,” he’d said. “Do you think I want anything to happen to him?” Giselle had conceded, grudgingly, that she knew he had Teddy’s best interests at heart, but that didn’t make motorcycles any safer. Ed had muttered something under his breath that he refused to repeat when she said, “Pardon me?” It felt just like old times. But she interpreted the fact that he’d chosen to drive the van as his way of extending an olive branch.
She walked to the curb to meet them. Teddy jumped out of the passenger seat and pointed to the van. “Look, we got it painted!”
ED’S ANIMAL FARM was painted in bright red with PET BOARDING AND GROOMING painted in blue underneath, along with the address and phone number. The pièce de résistance was a painted cartoon of Garfield and Snoopy tucked into bed together.
“Very nice,” she said.
Ed smiled and shrugged like it was no big deal, but she could tell that underneath he was as excited as Teddy. She hadn’t seen him this happy since high school. “It’s coming along,” he said. “It’s really happening.”
Teddy bent over to straighten out the leg of his jeans that was caught on the cuff of his cowboy boot. He was dressed just like Ed in clothes that seemed too warm for the weather. She didn’t know why he wasn’t wearing the shorts and sandals she’d packed. While Teddy was bent over, Ed had a clear shot of his skinny butt. He gave him a light shove with the sole of his boot, and Teddy toppled onto the grass, spread-eagled. Teddy let out a war whoop as he scrambled to his feet and tackled Ed around the knees, hanging on like a pit bull until Ed fell down on the lawn beside him. Then Teddy threw himself on top of his father and pinned his wrists to the ground while Ed pretended to resist with all his might. They were both laughing like loons. Giselle leaned against the van and watched, her smile half real and half fake. It was good to see Teddy laughing and acting silly again. But she couldn’t help thinking about Dan and Teddy, how she’d never once seen them get physical like this, rolling around on the ground like two pigs in mud. She couldn’t blame Dan. Or Teddy. But it made her feel bad. “Hey,” she said, nudging Ed with her toe. “That’s enough, you guys.”
Ed sat up and held Teddy at bay as he attempted to pull him back down. “Uncle!” he called out. “Uncle!” But Teddy was so revved up, he kept coming at him until somehow Ed was back up on his feet, holding Teddy upside down by his ankles like a prize trout. Giselle had forgotten how strong he was. In high school he’d worked part-time for a piano-moving company. Next to his dad Teddy looked like a real pip-squeak. He was never going to be that big. In terms of physique, the poor kid took after her side of the family.
“I ordered a pizza,” she told Teddy when Ed set him back on his feet.
“I feel dizzy!” Teddy said, stumbling around like a drunk. “I think I’m going to throw up.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach and doubled up.
“Does it hurt?” She frowned and took a step toward him.
“He’s fine,” Ed said. “Quit faking.” He leaned over and poked Teddy in the belly. Teddy giggled and straightened up.
“Well, I guess I should take off.” Ed brushed the dirt and loose grass from his hands and pants. He reached through the open window of the van and pulled out Teddy’s red backpack and handed it to her. “We packed his toothbrush and stuff.”
“Thanks,” she said. “About noon tomorrow?”
“Right.” He slid his sunglasses on and gave Teddy a knock on the noggin with his knuckles. “Have a good time and mind your mother.”
Teddy had stopped joking around and was looking forlorn as he watched his dad climbing into the van. Giselle wanted to walk over and put her arm around him, but she was afraid he might push her away, and she wouldn’t want Ed to witness that. He was taking his sweet time starting the engine. She wished he’d just get going. He had this hangdog expression on his face, like a dog scratching at the door to be let inside. On the phone he had suggested that the three of them go out for pizza, his treat. But she’d declined the offer. She wanted to keep the boundaries straight. Things were confusing enough already.
The two of them climbed the stairs to the apartment in silence. As she opened the door, the cat whisked past to find a safe hiding place. But Teddy managed to grab the tip of her tail and reel her in. “What’s his name?” he asked, attempting to cuddle the frantic cat. “Teena,” she said. “It’s a her.” Jess had explained to her that the cat was named after Brandon Teena, a lesbian cross-dresser attempting to pass as a man, who had been murdered in a little town not far from Lincoln. She/he had become a cause célèbre in the gay community.
“Ouch!” Teddy dropped the cat and covered his cheek. The cat took off like a missile.
“Let me see,” Giselle said, pulling his hand away from his face. There was a thin bright beaded trail of blood running from just below his eye to just under his nose. He was trying not to cry. Even though she wanted to point out that it was his own fault, she said, “Let’s see if Vonnie has any ointment.”
He followed her inside to the bathroom. “Wow, neat bathtub,” he said, sitting on the edge of the claw-foot tub. In the medicine cabinet mirror she saw his reflection checking out the shower curtain: a black-and-white orgy of naked women depicted in a vaguely classical Greek style. Naturally, her childless sister didn’t seem to have any sort of first-aid supplies. Not even a Band-Aid. “She doesn’t have anything,” Giselle said. “Let’s just wash it.”
Teddy sat there stiff and sullen as she gently cleaned the scratch with the washcloth and soap. After she had patted it dry, she said, “I think it’s okay. You’ve stopped bleeding.”
“I want some ointment,” he said stubbornly. “I could get lockjaw. Or cat scratch fever.” He stood up and examined the scratch in the mirror. They made quite a pair. Her black eye had faded to shades of yellow and lavender. Framed in the medicine chest mirror, they looked like a poster for domestic violence.
“Dad has Neosporin,” Teddy informed her.
“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “Let’s go to the store. Russ’s is only a couple of blocks away. We can pick up a movie at the same time.” Then she remembered the pizza that was on its way. She looked at her watch. “I think we better wait for the pizza. We can go afterward.”
Teddy shrugged and walked around the small apartment, checking it out. His boots echoed on the wooden floors. Those narrow toes had to be bad for his feet. “Don’t you wear your sneakers anymore?” she asked. They were expensive Nikes she had bought on sale at The Athlete’s Foot.
“Sometimes,” he said, “but I like these better.” He stomped back to
the living room and sat on the sofa.
“Want a Coke?” she asked.
He nodded. He had the remote in hand and was flipping through the channels. When she returned with his Coke, he was looking at the local news with the volume off. “She doesn’t have cable?” he said in disbelief.
“I don’t know. I guess not.” She handed him the Coke. “But we’re going to rent a video after supper.”
“I like to watch Bill Nye, the Science Guy. It’s on at five.”
She looked at the kitchen clock. “Well, it’s almost five-thirty. It would be just ending anyway.” She smiled and shrugged, feeling self-conscious and tongue-tied. It felt like a first date that had gotten off on the wrong foot, doomed already. But maybe after the pizza arrived, things would lighten up. She wished that Vonnie were here. Teddy thought that Vonnie was funny and cool. He always credited Vonnie with teaching him how to whistle. But one of the bartenders was sick and Vonnie couldn’t get away.
“Jeez, it’s hot in here.” Teddy blew at his bangs and fanned himself with a magazine. “Doesn’t she have A/C?”
Giselle unplugged the box fan from the kitchen and set it up on a chair right opposite Teddy. “Here you go,” she said as she turned it on, “your own private breeze.”
“Shhh! I want to hear this.” Teddy turned the volume on the TV up high. He was watching Alex Trebek introduce today’s contestants on Jeopardy! Since when did he watch quiz shows? “Dad’s really good at this,” he volunteered. “He knows all the answers.”
The doorbell rang.
“Pizza’s here!” She jumped up, grabbed her wallet from her purse, and ran downstairs to let in the delivery person. The delivery person turned out to be a young guy, cute and friendly. He seemed to be flirting with her as he counted out her change. For a moment she fantasized asking him to stay and share the pizza with her, a picnic on the lawn with someone who seemed to enjoy her company. Instead, she trudged back upstairs and set the flat white box on the coffee table in front of Teddy, who didn’t take his eyes off the TV screen. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and some napkins and paper plates. They ate the pizza and watched Jeopardy! At least he didn’t have any complaints about the pizza. And his appetite seemed to be back. After the accident he had lost five pounds, and he didn’t have that much to lose to begin with.