Bittersweets_Terry and Alex

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “What did I miss?” Earle asked.

  Telling Earle became part of the story of how Terry and Jason’s friendship began. For Terry, meeting someone from the neighborhood, someone who had history there, a man the neighbors knew, made it interesting. She still didn’t know much about him aside that he owned and lived above a bookstore, but it was enough for now. Plus he was a little too put together for even a metrosexual. Maybe he was gay.

  “I hate to kick you young folks out,” Earle said, “But my show comes on in ten minutes and I have to prepare for it.”

  “Oh! Of course, I almost forgot that it’s Wednesday night! Survivor!” Terry exclaimed, placing the hot toddy cup back on the silver tray.

  They made small talk, most of it forgettable, leaving the apartment. Standing in the hallway, Terry made a decision to invite Jason up for coffee.

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  Once inside her apartment, she flicked off the answering machine and silenced her phones. She was going to be incognito for an hour.

  Jason stood in the kitchen doorway as she made coffee. “What do you do when you aren’t buying books?” he asked.

  “I wish that’s all I had to do,” she said. “I just became a partner in a criminal defense law office.”

  “Yikes! Will you be my consultant? I’m writing a crime fiction book,” he said. “Are you on vacation now?”

  “This is my week of R & R. The real work starts on Monday,” she answered. “Wow, you’re writing a book! That’s exciting.”

  “I hope so,” he said, taking a mug of coffee from her. “Oh, are you moving?”

  Confused, she didn’t get it until she realized he was referring to the boxes stacked along the wall of Alex’s things, and the contents of her office.

  “No, not moving. I bought barrister bookshelves so I could finally get my books out of storage.” It was a lie, but he accepted it.

  “Straight ahead,” she said, pointing to the dark living room. “If it’s not too creepy, we can sit in the dark and look out the window. You can almost see to the park if you look to the right, and all the way to the Alden if you look straight out.”

  “That’s a beautiful city view,” he said, sitting on the window seat.

  She put her mug on a small table and pulled the winged back chair over so she could see out, too. “When I bought this place, I bought it for that window. I can’t tell you the dreams and hopes that have been made looking at that view!

  “Have you always been a writer?” she asked, hearing that he was a writer was as incredible as if he’d said he was an astronaut. “I’ve never known a writer.”

  “Actually, I was a high school English teacher until the millage didn’t pass last election cycle and I lost my job.”

  Encouraging him to talk gave Terry a chance to really look at Jason Saunders. Unlike the exotic Arvin, or the courtroom drama television hunk Alex, Jason was runway model beautiful, with a sort of lean look bordering on gaunt. The concern that he might be gay ran through her mind again. Even his nails were manicured. But why would he want to date her if that was the case?

  Getting a peek at her reflection, she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud. If he still wanted to date her after seeing her tonight; on little sleep, no makeup and bum around clothes, he was a catch. But as they talked, she noticed the absence of any chemistry for Jason and it flattened the enthusiasm she first felt about getting to know him. They would just be friends. At eight-thirty, coffee gone, she stifled a yawn, and stood up.

  “I’ll take that,” she said, reaching for his cup.

  “Well, thank you so much,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed your apartment.”

  “Thank you,” Terry replied, leading the way down the stairs. “I’ll drop by the store Saturday afternoon.”

  “That’ll be nice,” he said. “Would you like to have dinner with me after the reading? My niece works for me on Saturday so I can leave as soon as it’s finished.”

  “I’m sorry, my neighbor is graduating from Drexel and her party is Saturday,” Terry said, not asking for a rain check.

  “Oh, right, your neighbor had mentioned it. Okay then. I’ll see you Saturday,” he said, smiling.

  She unlocked the door and waved as he turned to say goodbye again. With a sense of relief and a little chuckle, she went back up to her apartment. Jason would be a friend, but that was it. Maybe Alex had ruined her for other men because she really loved him. It made her so sad again, and the cycle continued.

  She got into the shower, spotting Alex’s empty shampoo bottle that he’d tried to eek one more use out of and it annoyed her enough that she got out of the tub, tracked wet footprints through the house, and threw it in the trash in the kitchen. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said, getting back into the tub to bathe.

  Afterward, hoping a cup of chamomile tea would counteract the caffeine from the coffee, she made a cup and sat back on the window seat in her bathrobe, wet hair dripping on her shoulders. Eyelids heavy, she forced herself to get up and take the cup back to the kitchen, pouring the rest of the tea down the sink. It was not uncommon for Terry to fight the tiredness and find something to do that might occupy most of the night, but tonight she needed to sleep. Forgetting to turn the phone ringers back on, with empty thoughts, she went through her nighttime ritual; barricading the door to her apartment, and the one to her bedroom, got into bed, and fell immediately to sleep.

  ***

  Chapter 12

  At a candle lit table for two in an expensive restaurant in Center City, ER doctor Arvin sat across from a lovely nurse whose name had flitted out of his head shortly after they were seated. It didn’t seem to make much difference in the conversation they had; she was too young for him anyway, and by the end of the meal, even his desire for her was non-existent.

  When she got up to go to the ladies room, Arvin quickly got out his phone and dialed Terry’s number. He missed her. As much as Arvin was incapable of making a commitment to a woman, Terry was as close to being someone that he could spend the rest of his life with if he had to, especially if it was in the capacity of being a friend. He loved Terry as a friend.

  The rare times in his life where he could really be himself, really relax, was when he was with Terry. But because of his disrespectful treatment of her for which he was extremely regretful, she’d shut him out of her life. Since early evening, he’d tried calling both her numbers, landline first just to annoy her, and then cell, and when she didn’t answer either one, he gave up. He’d take the nurse to bed because she expected him to, and she was better than his hand.

  The next morning, she left his apartment for work, wearing the same thing she’d worn the day before. Fortunately, she changed into scrubs for her OR job. Arvin finally remembered her name was Patricia about ten minutes before she left.

  “Have a great day, Patricia,” he said, standing with the door open, willing her to leave so he could take a dump.

  “Will you call me later?” she asked, her arms around his neck.

  “Sure! Catch up later,” he said. “Maybe I’ll even see you downstairs.”

  Downstairs being the hospital lingo for the ER.

  “Call me later, Arvin,” she said, winking.

  Patricia might have been a mistake, he thought, as aggressive in the outside world as she was in bed. Usually, he’d enjoy the sex just because his dick was getting a workout, but last night, between worrying about Terry, and aggravation that she didn’t answer the phone he’d had a shock; his first experience with impotence. He got it up alright, but he couldn’t finish. When it was clear it wasn’t happening for him, he pretended.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered, plopping down on her, burying his face in his pillow away from her hair that smelled strangely like BO. “That was good.”

  “Now it’s my turn,” she said, guiding his hand between her legs.

  There was no way in hell he was going to do it, so his way around having to touch her, he told her it would be a b
ig turn on if she’d do it herself and let him watch. She was happy to oblige and put on a show for him that he was sorry he hadn’t video taped. If there was a next time, he’d be sure to take advantage of it.

  So when she finally left his south Philly apartment, he could get his day started. First, he’d call Terry again. It was early, not yet seven, but he rang the numbers anyway, and she still didn’t answer.

  Flipping through his address book, he found Brenda and Larry’s number and dialed that instead.

  “You’re not calling out sick, are you?” Larry asked.

  “No man, I just have to talk to your wife,” Arvin said.

  “She’s still sleeping,” Larry said.

  “I’m up,” Brenda said, turning over in bed. “Who is it?”

  “Arvin,” Larry said, handing her the phone.

  “What’s going on?” Brenda asked.

  “Terry won’t answer her phone,” he said.

  “She’s taking the week off, Arvin. She’s probably still sleeping.”

  “No, I tried last night, too,” he said. “Did she give you any indication that she was mad at me?”

  “You mean above the normal crap? No, not recently. Give her a chance to wake up, and call her later,” Brenda said, and then decided to be straight with him. “Arvin, grow up. We’re all sick and tired of your shenanigans.”

  “What did I do?” he whined. “What did I do?”

  “This BS with the other women has got to stop. She’s not going to tolerate that, ever. You got it?”

  “I can’t!” he cried.

  “You can! You went to medical school, for God’s sake. Stop with the other women, Arvin. It makes you look like a dog.”

  Thinking of what he’d gone through the previous night, forcing himself to have sex with the young nurse just because she was there and he was afraid not to, this was the first time he wondered if he could really stop womanizing.

  “I’ll try,” he said. “I won’t like it, but I’ll try.”

  “If you really want to be with a wonderful woman like Terry, you’ll find a way to stop,” Brenda said. “I have to hang up now because Larry’s leaving. You’re going to be late.”

  Upset, more from frustration and fear than Terry not answering her phone, Arvin knew he was at a crossroad. Stopping to thumb through yesterday’s mail on his way out the door, he took quick stock of his life. He was going to be thirty-five. Living in the same crappy apartment in south Philly he’d lived in during his residency, it reminded him of youth.

  Among the bills and requests for money from his alma mater was a Christmas card from Jerry, his former roommate. An Ob/Gyn doc, Jerry grew up long ago, got married eight years before, and started a lucrative practice in Florida. Arvin was ostensibly doing the same thing he’d been doing in his residency, but making more money. Ripping the envelope open, Jerry had signed the card, a photo card of his beautiful family. When will I get a card like this from you?

  Throwing the mail down on the hall table, he grabbed his coat and left the apartment. He’d get a cab into work today; it was too cold to walk the two miles.

  A motor vehicle accident had just arrived so he stayed busy that morning, but by ten he had a moment where he could call Terry. Ducking into the triage booth, it was safe and private for the time being.

  “Terry, it’s Arvin,” he said, out of breath.

  “Are you running somewhere?” she asked. “Why are you wheezing?”

  “I’m nervous,” he said. “I’ve tried calling you a few times in the last twenty four hours. Then I called Brenda and she gave me a critical analysis of my behavior.”

  “I’m sorry, Arvin,” Terry said. “I don’t want you to be nervous.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked, finally thinking of her.

  “I’m on my way to see my dad,” she said. “We sort of started to grocery shop together. I like it a lot.”

  “That’s nice,” he said. “It sounds comforting. I liked doing things with my dad, too. I miss him everyday.”

  “I’m sorry, Arvin. I can’t imagine not having my dad around. What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.

  “If I straighten up, will you see me again?” he asked.

  “Oh, Arvin, we’ve been friends for almost five years. Do you really think you can change your behavior? You said yourself that it was ingrained, or something like that.”

  “I’m going to stop with the other women. It hasn’t been working for me anyway. I think I’m growing up.”

  “Ha! Oh you do, do you? Well, that will be very nice if you’re able to do it,” she said.

  “So, when can my second chance begin?” he asked.

  “Arvin…”

  “Please, Terry. I’m sorry, okay? Truly sorry. I know that I want you in my life for the rest of my life. Won’t you at least think about it?”

  “I guess I could do that. There are a few criteria,” she said. “You can probably guess what they are.”

  “Oscar,” he said. “You’ll want me to divorce Oscar.”

  “Can you make the changes you need to and still be friends with him? He’s almost fifty years old and still lives with mom. That’s a concern.”

  “Oscar hasn’t had much time for me lately,” he said. “He’s got a new girlfriend.”

  “Oh! Now I see where all this is coming from!” she said, laughing. “I have Oscar to thank for you coming to your senses.”

  “Probably,” he said. “It was a shocker.”

  “I’ll think about it, okay, Arvin? I have a lot coming up.”

  “Did you find another job?” he asked.

  “Sort of. I’ll tell you about it next week,” she replied. “Maybe you can come up here to my apartment for a change.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve never been up there,” he said. “I’m afraid of that part of town.”

  “Why on earth?”

  “It’s scary,” he said. “North Philly is dangerous.”

  “Arvin, this is Mount Airy. I don’t know what your babes are telling you, but this is a great area. You’d fit right in, trust me.”

  “Okay, I’ll come up there.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “And not for a boo-tay call, either. No way. We are just going to be friends.”

  “I know,” he said, contrite. “I’m sorry about all that. I really want you in my life, even if it’s just to be my friend.”

  “Yes, well we shall see,” she said. “I’d better get off. I’m in traffic now.”

  They said goodbye and although she couldn’t be sure that what he’d just said was sincere, it appeared that she and Arvin were friends again.

  ***

  Jennifer Hawthorn reached back into her memories of Alex and their relationship, the things that attracted him to her in the first place; he was ambitious and that was key for her. He was also good looking and knew how to dress. In her line of business, it was imperative to have someone eye catching on your arm.

  Their marriage was somewhat stable until he joined the service, and then volunteered for Iraq; anger at him for making such a monumental decision overshadowed any of the good they established.

  “Why did you do it?” she cried.

  “I needed the direction,” he admitted. “I’m not crazy about law after all. I mean, I’m sure I will be once I figure out what field I want to go into, but right now, I’m floundering.”

  “Alex, you’re married. We set goals together. Joining the Army is not something a married man does without conferring with his wife.”

  Six months later, Alex told her he was being deployed, and that was it for her. She’d try to tolerate it for the year he’d be gone, but she just couldn’t last that long. Not exactly sending him a Dear John letter, she got involved with another man while Alex was gone, someone she met at her job in Manhattan. Being with the man in the city was so far removed from the life she had with Alex in Princeton that it almost didn’t seem to be happening, she could forget for days at a time that Alex even
existed.

  The night Alex returned home from Iraq, she had sex with him because that was one thing she should do which seemed normal. Within days, hours even, she’d had enough of him and his moodiness and moved into a hotel. Shortly after that, the relationship with her co-worker ended. They remained in contact because of the job, but that was it.

  The following month, she discovered she was pregnant. Blessed with a long fuse, and an even longer tolerance level, she waited, convinced the mess she was in would straighten out as time passed.

  A marketing conference at Penn came up and she took it, looking at it as an opportunity to reconnect with Alex if there was anything to salvage. Expecting him to spend time with her while she was in Philadelphia, disappointment set in when he didn’t even come home Saturday night, so she left to go back to New Jersey.

  Jennifer Hawthorn woke up sick Thursday morning after returning to her apartment in New Jersey. Alex had made the effort to say he’d stand by her until the baby was born, but she wasn’t sure it was going to be enough. Resentment grew because Alex had refused to consider looking for a job closer to her. Before she left for the office Thursday, she made another pleading call to him, which he was quickly growing to dread.

  “If I must move to New Jersey,” he’d said, grasping at anything which would get Jennifer to leave him alone, “I can commute. Thousands of people do it everyday.”

  “Alex, you have to be out of that awful apartment by the fifteenth. Why don’t you move out now and come back to New Jersey?”

  Fighting his true feelings, it was so much easier to be nice to her when they weren’t constantly under each others feet. But if they were going to make a go of their relationship, he should try to live with her. “Okay,” he said, resigned. “I’ll move back this weekend.”

  “I’m scared to death I’ll go into labor alone here.”

  “Jennifer, you’re only four months,” he said. “Try not to work yourself up.”

  Sitting with the phone in her hand after they hung up, Jennifer accepted that trying to save their marriage due to a pregnancy was going to be tough. Alex was somber and morose, which Jennifer chalked up to PTSD from his tour in Iraq. She didn’t know about Terry Kovac, never suspected that Alex was in love with someone else. Acknowledging that the marriage was over when she’d filed for divorce the first time, she hoped they had a chance, because the thought of raising a child alone was not pleasant.