Angie sobbed and said nothing.
“When you said those things to me it was like a shock to my heart and maybe it knocked that wall down, I don’t know. I had no idea you felt that way, Angie, really. And that’s my fault too. I should have been looking and listening, not figuring if you were right outside the door and physically safe, everything was all right, you were all right. What a jerk, huh. I can take care of plants but not the person I love best in the world. I just hope you’ll give me another chance. See me now and then. I know I don’t deserve it. I’m a terrible person. But I want to be a better person. And a better dad. And I never wanted you to be hurt. And that will stay with me for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah,” she laughed, “Shovel on the guilt.”
“Finally—Catholic school comes in handy.”
The bell rang again and Angie rose. “Pizza,” she said.
“Well I’ll go and let you kids eat. Maybe think about what I said? Maybe have dinner with me some time.”
“Ack,” she said, “Sit. Eat some pizza. That’s what families do.”
“But it’s a nice day, a lovely day, so just think of it as we’re going out for a drive on the way to the movies,” said Wimp to Butch. “It’s just around the corner here.”
“We had a healthy, happy, perfectly defined relationship for years, then suddenly you decide to break with tradition and now you’re telling me what to think and where to turn? Suddenly I’m your driver?”
“You’re driving me crazy, I can tell you that.”
Butch gasped. “Tomorrow, mister. Getting a new crop. Things have gone too far.”
“You’ve gone too far.”
Butch gasped once again. “You’ve crossed the line this time and strangulated my patience with it.”
“No, I mean you passed the house. It’s the one back there with all the gardening going on.”
Kevin was outside in his front yard, overseeing a small battalion of gardeners who were planting rows of rose bushes according to his design. The flowers had been well-received but Laura still had not relented. In fact, she had gone out several times in the last few evenings, leaving him alone with Julie. At least once again he’d had the pleasure of sitting in his den, watching his own television, and being at home with his child. The question was, where had Laura been going? It seemed too unlikely to assume she’d been dating, and besides she was always home before ten at night. But what if she were dating? What if she’d found someone else? Day by day Kevin grew more desperate. He had to know Laura would take him back so that his life could resume. He wanted to live in his own home with his family.
Today while she was dropping Julie off on a sleepover, he was out in the yard conveying his design scheme to gardeners who couldn’t seem to follow what he wanted. “Look, he said for the fifth time, “Dark pink, pale pink, white. Then pale pink, dark pink, pale pink, white. See?” The gardeners nodded and then proceeded to set the plants down in random order. Kevin repeated the simple phrase in Spanish and they nodded and did the same thing. Finally he held up an exasperated hand and indicated he would lay them out. In short order he had placed the several dozen rose bushes along the picket fence that bordered his front yard. Satisfied with what he had created, he nodded toward the gardeners and indicated they could now plant everything.
Butch had made the obligatory U-turn and pulled up to the curb as Wimp exited the car carrying the Saturday bouquet for the doctor’s wife. Wimp hoped she never took the fool back because his income had increased so much as a result of this doctor’s floral peacemaking efforts.
Butch remained in the Honda, rapping her fingers on the steering wheel and thinking about different types of handcuffs, when she noticed Kevin walking toward one of the gardeners to discuss what was being planted. Didn’t he look familiar? Didn’t she know him? All of a sudden, her hand rose and clapped against her mouth. Bill! That was Bill! Urgently Butch honked the horn and gestured for Wimp to come immediately.
Kevin watched with some satisfaction as yet another bouquet was set at the front door. He started to walk toward the delivery guy to tip him when a horn blasted several times so he turned toward the curb and spotted the vehicle parked there. Honda CR-V. It was the Honda! Kevin was certain of it. He strode purposely toward the car but somehow the delivery guy had leapt into the front seat and the car had sped away.
Kevin raced to the garage, jumped into his Porsche and blasted down the street after the Honda. He was sure he could catch them, assuming they hadn’t turned.
Butch was determined to practice evasive maneuvers and she had indeed turned, several times and had doubled back and turned again.
Wimp was too distraught even to express fright at the way Butch was driving, for there was a more compelling source of terror at the forefront of his mind. “He knows who we are! He saw me dropping off the flowers. He can come into the shop! With les gendarmes!”
“What arms? You think he has guns?”
“Police, the police. Oh my God.” Wimp pictured himself locked away, in chains and not the good kind. Not the consenting adults kind. The only one adult is consenting and the other adult is somebody’s bitch kind. He started moaning softly and raising his hands to his head.
Butch’s voice grew eerie, “I looked right into his eyes for a moment—pure evil. I bet he’s one of those plural marriage guys—house with a wife on every corner—what are they called—Amish. They get married to so many women because they’re not allowed to watch TV.”
“You don’t think it’s credit card fraud, do you? I’d have to refund the money—and I already spent so much of it on the tickets. But no—we’ll go—they’ll never catch us. We’ll seek asylum in India.”
“I’ll be dammed if anyone is committing me. Electro shock therapy? No thank you very much.” Butch sped up and quickly turned onto and then off Sunset, looking to each side, and in her rearview mirror, but there was no sign of the Porsche.
Kevin’s rage escalated. How had they escaped? How had they been fast enough in that damn Honda to evade his chase? Was it a magic Honda with some sort of cloak of invisibility? Were they freaking Batman? He’d lost yet another chance to apprehend them. Oh he’d been so close to catching them and imagine the fallout if he could have done that and had called the police and finally got his justice—that moron cop and moldy judge would finally get their comeuppance. What utter frustration. Why had his life gone to shit? Day by day he struggled with all these problems, and so far no reward. No wonder he didn’t believe in God.
Kevin drove back home resignedly to tell Laura about what had happened, and yes there was her car, parked in the driveway and alongside it—the Honda CR-V. Kevin’s eyes bulged and his nose flared. Had Laura in fact been the one to sic these maniacs on him? Were they now blackmailing her? Or were they all conspiring further? After all he’d done for her, too. She was shameless. No, that was too crazy to believe.
Kevin parked behind Laura and barreled into the house ready to confront the car’s owner only to find her talking and laughing with that rabid judge. “My God!” shouted Kevin, “This is unbelievable. What are you doing here in my house?” He strode menacingly up to the judge and stood nearly nose to nose. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
Sam turned to Laura and said, “This clown is your ex-husband?”
“Kevin,” said Laura, “This is my friend, Sam.”
“You’re in my house, asshole, and this is my wife. Get out of here or I’ll be the one calling the cops.”
“Stop it, Kevin. Stop it immediately. I’m sorry, Sam, really. What’s the matter with you?”
“Just because she threw me out and filed for divorce doesn’t mean this isn’t my house and she isn’t my wife,” asserted Kevin.
Sam displayed his most judicial countenance and said, “That’s exactly what it means. Laura, I can get you a restraining order today if you like.”
“Restrain this,” said Kevin, socking the judge on the jaw. “You catch me with your daughter and so you come
here trying to snake away my wife? She’s my wife, pal. I’m keeping her.”
Laura pushed her way between Kevin and Sam and turned to her husband with rage and said “Angie….That sweet young girl? A patient. And basically a kid. No wonder she switched to Bill.”
“Don’t be so smug,” Kevin said, “She was coming onto me for months. I asked Bill to take her case. And nothing happened with her. I was being run off the road, remember. And you hung up on me so she gave me a ride.”
“Kevin, I told you this weeks ago but I was never genuinely sure until this moment. It’s over. You need to get your stuff and move out of the cabana. Get a place of your own. Build a new life of your own. I’m never taking you back.”
“You heard the lady,” said Sam. “I’m not leaving until I see you drive away from here. I’ll file that restraining order and post a policeman if necessary. You can’t be a sleaze ball and keep a fantastic woman like this.”
“This isn’t over,” said Kevin to Laura, and then more softly, “I’ll never give up on you—I finally know what you mean to me. I want to make it up to you for the rest of my life.”
“Make it up to someone else,” said Laura. And pointing toward the door, “Go. If you don’t go, I will get that restraining order. Today. Immediately. Enough of these games.” She watched as Kevin padded out the door, his head down and shoulders slumped.
When the door was closed, Laura turned toward Sam, “Oh God, look at your face. Wait, let me get you some ice.”
“No,” said Sam, “You wait. I was holding off on doing this until you were sure about your marriage. You seem pretty sure today.” As if in slow motion, he reached toward her, enveloped her in his arms, and gently reached down and kissed her for a very long time.
Butch and Wimp sat in the international terminal at LAX airport. He clutched her hand tightly. “I was one payment away from owning that car,” Butch said morosely. “It would have lasted fifteen more years, maybe twenty.”
“Prison isn’t like college,” said Wimp sagely, “They don’t let you bring your car. Destroying the plates and abandoning it was the only choice we had. The insurance will pay off and you’ll get a new one. And you won’t be in jail.”
“You don’t know Bill would come into the shop. He didn’t come in to place the order. Maybe a secretary did it.”
“And what, she got amnesia over night?” Wimp scowled at Butch.
“Maybe a vicious sister wife did it and she won’t tell.”
“The car is gone. Make peace with it. We’re going on vacation. Let’s just try to get our sanity back and when we come home this will all be a distant memory. And you’ll get a new car. Maybe a nice Toyota,” said Wimp comfortingly.
“Now you’re just trying to depress me. Oh look, isn’t that Guru Magic—that Indian Guru—very famous.”
Wimp turned to look at a group of Indian women, all in brightly colored saris, following behind a woman who did have a certain spiritual countenance. “Oh my God,” he said, “Never mind the guru—look at the girl in pink. The pale pink.”
“So? I really don’t think she’s the kind to recruit for any threesomes.”
“Chrissy!” he whispered.
“Oh my God, it is her. Wow she got fat. How many pounds do you think?”
Wimp shrugged. “Gotta be twenty or thirty. Woah how could she gain so much so fast?”
“Curry?”
“She’s seeking asylum in India too. How about that. Do you think she’ll be on our tour? That could be awkward.” Wimp mulled this over. At least there was no sign of Bill. “Oh my God, do you think Bill is here?” Wimp held his hands over his face and rose, peering in every direction, then grimaced at Butch and sat back down. “No sign of him.”
“Maybe they’re not gurus but all Bill’s wives, a coven or something. A whole herd of wives, running away,” said Butch. “It’s about time someone taught him a lesson. Who’s gonna do his laundry now?”
Candy pulled Bill aside and said seriously, “You really have to talk to Will. He can’t use his manners tonight.”
Bill laughed and asked, “What’s wrong with him using manners?”
“He only has bad ones,” said Candy. “And our cousins will be here.”
“What?” said Bill. “Aunt Ruth didn’t tell me she was coming for a visit.”
“Not those cousins.” Candy gestured toward next door, saying “The cousins we’ve never met. They’re coming to the party.”
“I know how much you love Mrs. G,” said Bill, “But you do know we’re not actually related to her, right? And her grandkids aren’t your cousins.”
“Please!” said Candy with visible exasperation. “Is this really the time for that kind of talk?”
Bill laughed.
“Now’s the time to focus. I need you to take my pictures with your cell phone and put them on the computer.”
“Pictures?” asked Bill.
“I have to try on some outfits and need to know which looks best. So that way I can look at all the pictures and decide.”
“Where’d you get a crazy idea like that?”
“Duh!” said Candy, “Clueless of course.”
“Don’t you have a new dress just for the party? Didn’t Aunt Laura take you shopping and get you a bunch of stuff?”
“Daddy! You’re lollygagging around, not even dressed, Will for all we know is up to his ears in slime, and I’m the only one paying attention and now you want to discuss shopping? Focus, Daddy, focus!”
Bill shrugged, “Okay, go put on the outfits. Camera right here.”
While Candy was dressing, Will appeared, saying, “What?”
“What what?” asked Bill.
“Candy said you wanted me.”
“That kid will end up president one day,” muttered Bill. “You ready for the Gold’s anniversary party? Better get dressed.”
“It’s an outside party. I am dressed.”
“It’s a garden party, yes, but not a jeans party. Go put on nice slacks and a clean shirt.”
“Oh, crap,” said Will.
After the normal amount of nagging on Candy’s part, grousing on Will’s part, and some relief on Bill’s that he could once again fit perfectly into his clothes, they walked together across the lawn to the Gold’s back yard, Bill carrying a large box containing a nice present onto which Candy had taped a card she’d drawn herself.
“Remember Will, try not to make anyone hate you right away,” admonished Candy.
“Nobody hates me but you,” Will answered.
“I’m the only one who really knows you,” said Candy.
“Stop it,” said Bill sternly. “Nobody hates anybody.”
“Gramma!” shrieked Candy as Sophie walked over to greet them. “Happy Anniversary!”
“Thank you! You put in your time and you get the good stuff,” said Mrs. G, holding out her arm to show off a new diamond tennis bracelet.
“Bling!” said Candy. “So, where are these cousins?”
Sophie laughed and said to Bill, “Could you put that inside? There’s a table near the kitchen. Never expected so much loot.”
Bill laughed and nodded as the kids followed behind Mrs. G toward a group of youngsters playing at the back of the yard.
The house was quiet and seemed to be empty, but as Bill went to set his gift upon a table that was about to overflow, he heard someone enter, but didn’t look up. “This could be the straw that breaks this table,” he joked.
“Maybe we’d better designate this coffee table for the overflow,” a woman’s voice said, and as Bill looked up to see who she was, she lifted a large bowl from the table and turned with it and walked out of the room.
Bill felt something inside him flutter, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He walked toward the door where she’d gone and followed her down a hallway to the living room. He watched her set the bowl down on a table in there and then she turned and faced him. She was not that tall but reasonably slender, her hair dark and shining, with
the perfect amount of freckles spattered across her nose.
The flutter. Again. Remembering that feeling, without hesitation he walked toward her. As he moved forward, Bill felt something inside his heart change, as though a cog that once had slipped, just now dropped back into place. Inside him all was humming. With each of the few steps that separated them, he could feel himself walking into a future that would last forever, that he had finished the past, had left the present, and now was moving into what would become his ever after.
Her eyes flashed and sparkled and she said, “Oh, you’re Bill. Mom said I’d meet you. I’m Gigi.”
“Of course,” he said, “Gigi.” He smiled and opened his arms, and without hesitation, she walked right into them. “How about that,” he murmured, “Twice in a lifetime.”
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