Several customers and employees rushed out the side door, asking if she was all right, which had her kicking the curb and saying, "Fine! Just fine!" Then a tiny woman wearing thick glasses came running up.
"I got his license number!" she cried, panting as she waved a piece of paper. "My sister called it out and I wrote it down! No one's going to hit my car like that and get away with it. No sirreee! Miss, can I have your name and phone number in case I need you as a witness?"
Lydia gave her the information gladly, then threw what was left of her dinner in the garbage and went back to the plant, mad and feeling useless. It seemed like all she'd done all day was run up and down the road. She had wanted to at least get started on a new accounting spread sheet.
She ended up doing better than that. Typically, she devised her own method, a kind of shorthand that resembled chicken scratches. When Tony came up a little after seven, he found her staring at the totals and looking somewhat bewildered.
"I think I'd better go back to school," she said. "I obviously missed something."
Tony smiled, sitting down across from her, then stretched his legs out, drawing a weary breath, and just looked at her.
One area of account in particular had her concerned. So concerned in fact, their confrontation earlier seemed all but forgotten. "Do we have an unusually large amount of bar stock in inventory?" she asked. "Specifically cold-rolled."
Tony shook his head. "No.. .why?"
Lydia motioned to the spread sheet and sat back. "The figures. They didn't add up before, and they don't add up now. But inventory is so far off it's a joke."
"What do you mean?" Tony asked, yawning.
Lydia smiled compassionately. He looked exhausted. "Do you know about the accounting?" she asked. "The invoices and all?"
Tony nodded. Of course he knew. Why didn't that surprise her? "Well, considering that...." she said. "What I've attempted to do with inventory, since like I said the figure didn't seem right to begin with, was to take the last physical amount and bring it to date using dollars."
Tony appeared interested, so she elaborated. "I added a percentage to allot for a price variance on material already in stock, accounting for overages on extruded and such, adding there and deducting for back orders, scrap, and the like. Then I threw in a little for prosperity and used a standard ratio, cost verses a finished product. And according to my figures, we should be buried in cold-rolled."
Tony looked amused by her method of deduction and yet, had to wonder if she didn't know exactly what she was talking about. "How did you single out cold roll?" he asked, sounding a bit skeptical.
"Easy," Lydia said matter-of-factly, motioning to the figures. "I remember most of the suppliers. You know, what they carry and all and where we buy what. So all I had to do was put them on a point system, one that gave them a percentage of the whole. And on top of the other considerations, their cut added up to...."
"A lot of cold roll," Tony said for her. When she nodded, he laughed. "You're putting me on, right?"
Lydia shook her head. She wasn't. Not entirely at least. "It loses a little in the explanation, but in theory, it should've worked. Honest to God."
Tony laughed again, and following that, the two of them just looked at each other a moment—a moment where they were both thinking of the same thing, their fight.
"Well, how was the rest of your day?" Lydia asked.
"So-so," Tony said, smiling. "It got pretty quiet after you left."
Lydia blushed, a blush she felt all over…and from just the tone of his voice. It sounded as if he'd missed her. "I wish I could say the same," she said. "But mine just kept getting worse."
"So do I report in? Or do we start with you?"
Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Oh no. You first. I learned all about this sort of thing when I was five."
Tony laughed, shaking his head, then moved his legs to make them more comfortable. "I went ahead and did the layoffs today instead of waiting till tomorrow. I came up here looking for you several times."
"You wouldn't believe where all I've been," Lydia said dramatically. "But before you go on, I want you to know that I only went to Forrester to try to flush someone out. Had I known you already had proof…."
Tony stopped her. "I never said I had proof."
Lydia looked at him. "But I thought…."
"You thought wrong. I have no doubt, but I have no proof. If I did, do you think for one second, I'd stand by and...."
Lydia swallowed. He was correcting her again as usual, only it didn't seem to matter this time. No proof meant something more important. He hadn't kept it from her, and she didn't have to deal with Forrester just yet.
"I gave a list of the departed to Will."
Departed? Lydia thought of her mother, then her father, lowering her eyes, and Tony gazed at her for a moment.
"Anyway, that's it for me. Now why don't you tell me about your day."
Lydia looked hesitant. "You really want to hear about it?"
Tony nodded, smiling.
"Well," she said, with a breath and a sigh. "I'd had a really restless night, which is nothing new, so initially I had no idea what kind of day I’d have. But then I came in here and was told I looked like shit, and that seemed to set the pace."
Tony laughed, holding his hands up to acknowledge his part in that, and she went on. "So I waited until I looked good, as instructed, before going on my merry way to Forrester, which by the way, is a pigsty. And using the only lead I have when it comes to people, my instincts, which usually run true, except maybe in your case, I came across like a spoiled rotten little rich girl in need of help in a big, big, way."
Tony shook his head, smiling through this, especially the "spoiled rotten little rich girl" part, sort of his impression all along, even though he wasn't so sure now. When Lydia paused, he crossed his arms and waited for more.
"So I played along for a while, using you and a few low blows, until I was sure I’d taken it far enough."
Tony couldn't let that go without saying something. "Far enough?"
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yes...far enough. And I know what you're thinking. But when I’m sure, I’m sure. What did it was the look on his face when I told him you sent me over there." She started laughing, and could hardly finish, especially when she tried imitating it. "Tony! Tony Armato!" Now she had Tony laughing right along with her. "Oh God, it was priceless! I’ve never seen anything like it. 'Tony sent you to see me?!'"
Tony shook his head, and Lydia dabbed at her eyes and forced some composure. "Then I went to the bank. And I don't even want to get into the seriousness of that, so I won't. Then I came back in here, and not five minutes later, this big, macho, Italian guy, whom I never seem to please…." She paused for effect. "Need I mention here, that this is the same man who earlier had pointed out how I should go look in a mirror or something."
Again, Tony found himself laughing, hands up in an admission of guilt.
"I think I'll skip ahead here a little if you don't mind," Lydia said, laughing also. "We both know what happened next."
Tony nodded, and Lydia smiled gratefully. She didn't want to spoil the moment. He was fun to be with when he wasn't so dead serious. "So after that, I received some very disturbing news from the bank, then some about my dad, and somewhere in the middle of all this Sharon called, and that's a whole different story. Then I had to go down to the bank again, even though I'd already been there once. I know, no big deal, so I ran up and down the road all day. Who cares? But it gets better. Just wait." She paused to catch her breath. "I hadn't eaten all day, so I thought I'd stop at McDonald's, and who do I see there but that goddamned Dan Morris. And he tried to run me over!"
Tony sat up. "What do you mean he tried to run you over?"
"I mean literally! I'd like to think he would've stopped, but at the time I felt compelled to jump out of the way."
Tony just looked at her a moment, as if he expected her to say she was kidding, or at least exaggerating
a little. But she didn't, and he stood up and walked over to the window. "I think you're going to have to be a little more careful," he said.
"Come again?"
Tony stared over his shoulder at her. "I said, I think you're going to have to be a little more careful."
Lydia couldn't believe this, and she'd heard him perfectly the first time. "Well, this is a fitting end to my day. You're scaring the hell out of me."
Tony walked back and sat down, with that dead serious look on his face again. "What I meant was, don't go out of your way - like going over to Forrester and saying the things you did."
Lydia reached for a cigarette, the first since he'd come up to see her. "Gee, maybe I ought to just buy a gun."
Tony glanced at her trembling hands. "That might not be a bad idea, as long as you know how to use one."
Lydia looked shocked. "I was being funny."
"Yeah? Well I'm not."
"Oh great! This is just great!" Lydia said, on her feet and throwing her hands up. "I told you I don't sleep well nights as it is. Why are you doing this?"
Tony looked at her. "Dan Morris...remember? The guy who tried to run you over."
Characteristically, Lydia made an attempt to minimize the incident now. "Yeah, but that was probably just a freak thing. I think it's unlikely that I'll ever see him again. I mean, it's obvious he doesn't want to see me, so this is crazy."
Tony shook his head at her rationale, which was even more unsettling, since she hadn't convinced herself either. Then, to make matters worse, she suddenly remembered giving that woman her name. She sat back down. "Did you know Dan Morris?"
"I met him a few times."
"And?"
Tony crossed his arms and shrugged. "And what? I didn't like him. But hey, I don't like most people."
"So I've noticed."
Tony could have smiled at that, but he didn't. Concern wouldn't allow it. What had put the majority of his cellmates in prison was nothing compared to what was going on here, and from them, he'd learned not to underestimate anything. Particularly when it came to money.
Lydia put her cigarette out and reached for her purse. She'd had enough of this. "Well, now that you've managed to totally make my day, I think I'll leave."
Tony stood up slowly. "I'll walk you out. It's dark."
"Oh great! Even that has a scary tone to it. Are you going to follow me home and tuck me in nice and snug, too?"
Again, Tony couldn't even smile, and halfway down the stairs, Lydia broke the tense silence between them. "Tell me what you went to prison for?"
"We've already had this discussion," he said.
Lydia stopped. "I know. But I mean specifically. What was it you did?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Tony said, glancing up from two steps below. "Okay?"
Lydia shook her head. She had to know, and she wanted to hear it from him. "No," she said softly. "It's not okay."
Tony swallowed hard, looking up into her eyes. He hesitated. "I was in a fight. All right?"
Lydia's legs went weak. "You killed someone in a fight? How?"
"How?" Tony kind of laughed, shaking his head, and Lydia stepped down closer.
"Tell me what happened. Please."
Tony looked at her for a moment, a moment that echoed both their fears. "It started in a bar," he finally said. The anguish in his eyes made Lydia want to cry. Somehow she'd never expected this to be so hard for him. He had seemed so cold-hearted until now. "The funny thing is," he said, "all the time I’ve had to think about it, I still don't know what it was about."
"Did you start this fight, Tony?"
"No," he said, smiling sadly. "But that didn't matter. When it was over the other guy was dead."
Lydia searched his eyes. It did matter. To her at least. It mattered a lot. "I uh…I think…." She wanted to tell him that, to let him know.
But he shook his head. He didn't want her to say anything and for a moment the two of them just looked at one another. "Does anyone else here know about this?"
"Just Will," he said. "Reed knows?"
"Yeah, he knows. He was there."
* * *
Sharon was at the beach house when Lydia got home, sitting on the couch with her legs crossed Indian-style, staring at the television with the sound off. When Lydia sat down next to her, she looked up with swollen eyes and tears running down her face.
"I don't know what I expected," she said.
Lydia put her arms around her and let her cry it out, crying with her, until Sharon had all but exhausted herself.
"What did he say?"
Sharon wiped at her nose, sniffling. "Oh, the usual I guess: 'Oh my, are you sure?' Then there was a perhaps. He never did go on with that. I swear, Lydia, it was like he thought it might not be his."
"I doubt that. Come on, you've been together for years."
"You wouldn't know that by him."
"And the baby?"
"He says it's up to me, but that he would prefer…."
Lydia got up for a drink.
"He says if I want to go through with it, he' ll marry me. But that he wasn't at all pleased with my timing. Can you fucking believe that?"
Lydia downed half of her drink and walked back. "So what did you tell him?"
"Nothing," Sharon said, sounding hopeless. "I thought I knew him, Lydia. I really did."
Lydia downed the rest of her drink.
"I hate him! I really do! And I'll tell you this. I don't even want his baby. I don't want anything of his!"
Lydia stared.
"I'm going to have an abortion. And don't try talking me out of it. I know how you are, but my mind's made up."
Lydia cleared her throat. "If that's your decision, fine. But don't make your mind up tonight. You're too upset. Get some rest, and in the morning…."
"I knew he'd do this," Sharon said, as tears filled her eyes again. "I just knew it."
Lydia went for some pillows and blankets and, urging Sharon to lay down, covered her up and made her comfortable. "Go to sleep. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
"But don't you have to go to work?"
"Work can wait. Now go to sleep."
During the night, Lydia woke repeatedly to thoughts as bizarre as her dreams, and more than once, she heard her father crying out. She couldn't see him, but he was there somewhere. She just had to keep looking for him. When the phone rang a little after seven, it was Sharon who answered it.
"Hello."
"Good morning! Is this Sharon?"
She yawned. "Yeah, Greg, it's me."
"Is Lydia there?"
Sharon looked across the room. Lydia had just uncovered her head and was now attempting to focus on the grandfather clock. "Sort of..."
"Let me talk to her."
"It's Greg," Sharon said, laying the phone down and heading for the kitchen.
Lydia felt around for her cigarettes, lit one, then got up out of the chair she'd slept in, and made her way across the room. She cleared her throat. "Hi."
"Don't you sound good."
Silence.
"I tried the plant first, and they said you weren't there yet. Sleeping in?"
"It's allowed."
"Ooh...cranky, are we?"
Lydia looked at Sharon. She was measuring water for coffee. "Make a full pot," she told her. Then, "What did you want, Greg?"
"Just to talk. What's with the tone of voice?"
"Nothing. But you did wake us up. And it's not all sunshine and newly painted tennis courts over here."
"Problems?"
"You mean, as in, there weren't any before?"
Greg sighed disgustedly. "I'll call you later."
"Make it a lot later. And why didn't you tell me Sharon called the other day? She told you it was important."
"Everything's important to her. And exaggerated. But I’m not going to argue with you about it. I have to go. I'll try you later."
Lydia slammed the receiver down, mimicking his tone. "’I’ll try you later.'
Yeah? Well maybe I won't answer. How would you like that?"
Sharon came in, sat down, and shook her head. "Thanks for sticking up for me, but I don't think I'm worth it."
"Oh great! Now you tell me," Lydia teased.
Sharon laughed, and Lydia sat down next to her. "Well, now that you've slept on it, how do you feel?"
"A little different," Sharon said. "After all, it's my baby too. Right?"
Lydia smiled.
"Now this doesn't mean I've made up my mind entirely, it's just that I think I was looking at it all wrong. I was so worried about how Brian was going to take it, I didn't really look at it from my perspective."
"Or the baby's," Lydia said with such regard, tears filled Sharon's eyes.
"You really are a puritan, Lydia, you know that."
Lydia shrugged, fighting back tears herself, and Sharon hugged her tightly. "And you're the best friend there ever was."
* * *
Lydia stopped to visit with her father on the way to the plant and was pleasantly surprised to find him up and in his chair by the window. "You gave me quite a scare yesterday," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Not to mention what you did to Betty and George."
John smiled feebly. "Oh, they both fuss so."
Lydia sat on the window seat next to him. "I came by last night, but you were asleep. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he said. Lydia sensed otherwise. He was thinking he might as well be dead. "I can't go see your mother, though."
"It'll only be for a few days."
"But she'll know. She'll know I'm not there. Don't you understand?"
Lydia just sat there. What could she say? She'd said it all before. He was just going to have to accept it. She had to make him accept it. But he looked so frail, and he began to cry.
"Would you go for me?"
Lydia braced herself to stand. "Um…I don't mean to...um.. .I'm sorry, Dad...I just can't. I'm sorry. I have to go. I'll stop by and see you later."
Lydia didn't go straight to the plant. She went to Dan Morris's old apartment building. It was her only lead. It was all she had. And she was feeling desperate. The old man she and Reed had talked to the other day was sitting on the stoop, apparently dozing. When she walked up, she startled him.
Call Me Lydia Page 21