Perfect on Paper

by Janet Goss

  And he would have, too. My parents never would have accepted a boyfriend who was nearly as old as my own mother. My friends—well, maybe not Elinor Ann, but the rest of them—would have drifted away, uncomfortable in our presence, bewildered by my choice.

  But at that moment I was convinced it would have been worth it—all the mess, all the fallout and rage and recriminations—just to have that first perfect year with him.

  “Oh, Elinor Ann, how could he die on me? He was supposed to show up one more time and prove that what we had was real.”

  “Of course it was real.”

  She went into the bathroom and returned with a cool washcloth. “Put this over your eyes. It’ll help with the puffiness.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be seeing Hank tonight?”

  “He told me to come by anytime.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

  I agreed, but the alternative—listening to the Satinettes and reading ancient journal entries—was simply too depressing to consider. “I think I should try. I think I need to get out of here.”

  “Then I think so, too. Are you going to let him know about… what happened?”

  Good question. “Maybe I’ll wait a couple of days. I want to be able to tell him without breaking down.”

  I saw Elinor Ann sneak a look at her watch, so I looked at mine, which was resting on the nightstand. It was just after three.

  “You don’t have to leave yet, do you?” She couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to be on my own—or to face Hank and pretend everything was fine.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay a little longer, but I’m starting to feel bad for Cal. I hate to think how many times he’s been around the block by now.”

  Just then I had an idea. “Do you think he could drop me at Hank’s on your way to the tunnel?”

  “I can’t imagine he’d mind.”

  “And maybe you could stop in for a minute and meet him? I’m sure he’d love to show you guys around the brownstone.” And I was sure my anguish would be less obvious with the distraction of out-of-town visitors.

  “Meet Hank? Oh, I don’t know.… Yes. Yes, I do. Of course I want to meet Hank. If I can make it all the way to New York City, well, then I can stick around long enough to see this boyfriend I’ve been hearing so much about.”

  Now it was my turn to hug her. “I’ll call him.”

  “Make the next two rights, then a left onto Saint Mark’s Place,” I directed Cal, once we’d climbed into the truck and convinced him his hubcaps would be safe for the next hour or so.

  “You got it,” he said, giving his wife’s knee a squeeze. “You okay?”

  Elinor Ann, sitting between us, nodded. She did seem okay, if a bit overwhelmed—like a refugee from a third world country on her first visit to an American supermarket, slack-jawed at the abundance and variety unfolding before her. She kept up a steady stream of patter as we turned up Third, down Tenth, and onto Second.

  “A restaurant that serves nothing but mac and cheese? How is that even possible?

  “That man is selling handbags right in front of that handbag store. That hardly seems fair.

  “A dollar a minute, just to have somebody rub your feet?”

  “Here’s Saint Mark’s,” I said to Cal, who made the turn.

  “Oh my god, you guys—look at that guy with the tattoos. He has real horns growing out of his forehead.”

  Cal chuckled. “Saint Mark’s Place ain’t changed much, that’s for sure.”

  Elinor Ann and I turned our heads to stare at him. “You’ve… been here before?” I said.

  “Not since rumspringa. Bunch of us piled into my buddy’s ’sixty-two Impala one night and had ourselves a time.”

  I flashed on an image of a teenaged Cal, newly free of his plain clothes and Amish ways, whooping it up a million miles from Lebanon County.

  I’d never loved the two of them more than I did at that moment.

  Cal maneuvered into a spot across from Tompkins Square Park just north of Sixth Street. As we rounded the corner of Seventh, he stopped cold at the sight of Hank’s panel truck. “Man, would you look at that beauty.” He read the words painted on its side and met my eyes. “This belongs to your Hank?”

  I nodded.

  “Heck, Dana. Marry the guy.”

  Hank was waiting in the doorway when we approached the brownstone. “Glad y’all could make it,” he said. “Feels like I know you folks already, what with all I been hearing from my girl here. Come on in—I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  We followed him single file through the corridor leading to the kitchen. Elinor Ann formed an “okay” sign with her hand behind her back, where only I could see it. I leaned forward, whispering, “Told you you’d like him.”

  “I know you said he was attractive, but… no wonder you don’t care about his carpentry skills,” she whispered back.

  Persuading her to meet him had been a wise decision. Seeing Hank through Elinor Ann’s eyes was helping to remind me how lucky I was to have him. And if he wasn’t Ray, well—nobody could ever be Ray Devine again, any more than I could be twenty-one and so obsessively, deliriously in love.

  I lingered for a moment in the corridor and took a deep, stabilizing breath. Everything was going to be okay. Eventually.

  I heard Elinor Ann let out a yelp when she entered the kitchen. “It’s like something out of The Jetsons!”

  “I’ll say.” Cal had been wide-eyed, taking in every detail along the route. “Tell me, Hank—how you stripping the paint off those moldings in the front hallway?”

  He laughed. “Damn slow, that’s how.”

  “I bet. Looks like you got about thirty coats on there. You want to be using Magic Strip—takes six, seven layers off in one shot.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Check this out,” I said, pushing the button that caused the bamboo panel over the sink to disappear into the ceiling.

  “A backyard? I didn’t know they existed in New York City!” Elinor Ann was clearly delighted with the tour so far—and with Dinner, who had remained steadfastly by her side since we’d entered the house.

  Cal let out a low whistle. “You must need some serious juice to hoist something that size. What kind of electrical setup you got?”

  “Come on down to the basement and I’ll show you.”

  “You’re on.”

  Elinor Ann and I sat down at the kitchen counter. “I take back ninety percent of what I’ve been saying about that guy,” she told me. “I mean, I still think he’s a fraud, but…”

  “I understand. You didn’t expect to find him quite so personable, did you? Or so good-looking. I saw you checking out his… attributes.”

  Her face flushed. “I can’t believe how shallow that makes me sound, but I have to admit, there’s some truth to what you’re saying. It’s more than that, though. Hank’s nice. And it’s obvious he really cares about you.” She peered into my eyes. “So… you’re feeling a little better?”

  “I am right now. You saved my life today, you know.”

  “Are you kidding? You saved mine. I really think I made some major progress coming here today.”

  Before I could respond, she glanced at the clock on the stove and gasped. “The boys! I forgot all about them! They were expecting us home hours ago!”

  I handed her the receiver from the wall phone and listened while she explained to Angus that they’d been unexpectedly delayed.

  “We won’t be any later than nine o’clock.… Well, I’m sorry about that, but we’ll get pizza tomorrow night.… Oh, boo hoo. I’m sure the two of you can manage to survive on Hot Pockets and ice cream until we get back.”

  “I’m liking this new, assertive Elinor Ann,” I said after she hung up.

  “Me, too. And by the way, I think Cal’s right.”

  “About what?”

  “Maybe you should marry this guy.”

  We heard footsteps coming up the
basement stairs. “That system down there is a work of art,” Cal announced. “This place’s got more power than Three Mile Island.”

  Hank chuckled. “Think you could spare your husband for the next couple of months, Elinor Ann? I could use a good man like him on the job.”

  My friend and I exchanged glances. “Looks like these two are in loooove,” I said.

  Cal turned crimson. “Uh… how are the upstairs rooms coming along?”

  “They’re getting there. I still got a whole heck of a lot to do, but if you folks feel like poking around…”

  “Let’s go!” Cal started for the hallway.

  “Look at him,” Elinor Ann said, beaming. “He’s in hog heaven—literally.” She bent down to pat Dinner, and the four of us went to join her husband in the front hallway.

  Hank pulled me aside before I could follow our guests upstairs.

  “You don’t look so hot. You feeling okay?”

  So much for waiting a few days to tell him. “I… heard some sad news this morning. An old friend passed away.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “That’s okay. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Ain’t neither of us kids. We both got pasts.”

  A loud “Damn!” echoed from above. “Sounds like Cal discovered the master bathroom,” I said, forcing a smile.

  I remained downstairs, taking a seat on the bottom step with Dinner at my feet, while Hank went up to continue the tour. I should have known he’d pick up on my distress. And I should have given him more credit for understanding. Of course I was allowed to be sad. Of course we both had pasts.

  I just hoped he wouldn’t ask me any more questions after my friends went home to Pennsylvania. I wanted to keep Ray all to myself for a little while longer.

  God, why couldn’t he have lived for just one more day? I blinked hard, refusing to succumb to another spate of tears.

  Dinner issued a sigh and half rose, laying his head on my knees and looking at me with an expression I could interpret only as empathy.

  “Who’s hungry?” Hank said after we’d reconvened at the bottom of the stairs.

  I was surprised to discover I was. Maybe getting my appetite back could be construed as further progress, along with managing to remain dry-eyed since leaving my apartment.

  “I guess it would make sense to eat something before we get on the road,” Elinor Ann said. “But I want to go someplace really New York-ey. Really Greenwich Village-y… just not too far away, okay?”

  I knew Hank was thinking of the same destination when I told her I knew the perfect restaurant. “Fred and Ethyl’s—it’s right around the corner.”

  “They got a Saturday night special that’ll blow you away,” he added. “Fried chicken and corn bread.”

  Cal reached for the jacket he’d hung on the newel post. “You just said the magic words.”

  Fred and Ethyl were at their Village-iest, singing an off-key duet along with the oldies station, when we walked in the door.

  “Hiya, kids,” Ethyl said. “Plenty of room at the big table.” Fred passed her a basket of corn bread through the long, rectangular window in the wall separating the dining area from the kitchen, where just his head was visible. Most of his face was obscured by the ladle he held like a microphone.

  Ethyl deposited the basket and a pile of napkins in front of us. “Beers all around?”

  We nodded, and she disappeared through the swinging doors.

  I’d been concerned about the fate of Eddie’s birthday present since Elinor Ann had called home. This seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up—without betraying his confidence, of course. It was the least I could do after calling the kid a sadist. “So, what were you guys doing in Phillipsburg, anyway?”

  “Oh, that.” Elinor Ann looked sideways at Cal, then back at me. “We were on our way to pick up a bulldog. Now that Eddie’s turning twelve, we decided he’s old enough to take on the responsibility.”

  “That’s fantastic! He’s going to be so excited.”

  “He better be,” Cal mumbled, his mouth full of corn bread. “Those puppies aren’t cheap; that’s for sure.”

  “But—won’t it be too late to get him tonight?” If they arrived home empty-handed, Eddie might never forgive his aunt Dana for causing their change of plans.

  Ethyl set a heaping platter of chicken down on the table, along with twin mountains of green beans and mashed potatoes, while Fred began to sing “Crimson and Clover.”

  “We worked it all out with the breeder when we stopped to gas up in Clinton,” Cal mumbled, his mouth full of chicken. “She said it’d be fine if we came on over there tomorrow. That way Eddie can pick out his own puppy.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I’m having second thoughts,” Elinor Ann added. “Dinner makes a great argument for getting a pig.”

  “That’s chicken you’re eating, hon,” Ethyl said. “Pork chops is tomorrow night.” She returned to the kitchen while Elinor Ann suppressed a giggle.

  “Oh, you guys—I can’t believe I’m sitting here in New York City!”

  I couldn’t believe it, either. The cautious expression I remembered from our November visit had vanished, and seeing her exuberant reaction to the brownstone and the neighborhood—not to mention Hank—filled me with hope.

  But oh, how I wished she’d come to town for any other reason.

  The check arrived and both men pounced. While they argued over it, Elinor Ann leaned closer to me.

  “So you think you’ll be okay tonight?”

  “Yeah, I do, thanks to you guys. I’m so glad you—”

  The song on the radio changed and in a heartbeat, so did my resolve. I buried my face in my napkin, releasing a fresh torrent of tears, the moment Fred picked up his ladle.

  I guess I’m losing my mind.…

  Elinor Ann immediately hoisted me to my feet and hustled me off to the bathroom.

  The two of us could barely squeeze into the tiny space. I had just perched on the edge of the toilet seat when there was a hard rap on the door.

  “Occupied!” Elinor Ann called out.

  “Open up, missy!”

  She cracked the door and Ethyl’s arm, a shot glass of whiskey in her hand, appeared. “Drink up, girlie. It’ll do you a world of good. And don’t you worry—I told that son of a bitch if he ever makes you cry again, he’s banned from this place for life.”

  “Wow,” Elinor Ann said after Ethyl left. “New Yorkers are a lot nicer than I expected… in their own way.”

  I drained the shot and dabbed at my eyes with toilet paper. “Poor Hank.” I could only shake my head at the absurdity of the situation.

  “I’m sure we can manage to convince her this isn’t his fault.”

  I felt the warmth of the alcohol spread from the pit of my stomach to my fingertips. Ethyl had been right—it was helping. And we’d been in the bathroom for at least three minutes, so the song would be over by now. I got up, and we performed an elaborate pas de deux so I could reach the sink and splash water onto my face.

  “Ready?” Elinor Ann said, turning the lock on the doorknob.

  “Close enough.”

  Ethyl was glaring at Hank, dark eyes blazing, when we returned to the table. “He’s not the reason I was crying,” I told her.

  “You sure?”

  “I swear.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I always thought you two kids made a real cute couple.” She shot Hank one more look. “But only if girlie here is telling me the truth. I’ll be watching you, sonny boy.” She swept the cash off the table, and the four of us reached for our coats.

  The cold air helped, and so did Hank’s protective arm around my waist. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I ain’t letting go of you.”

  We arrived at the pickup truck and waited while Cal circled the vehicle for a quick hubcap check. “Looks like they’re all here.” He reached over to shake H
ank’s hand. “Real nice to meet you.” He hesitated, then leaned over and engulfed me in a bear hug. “I sure am sorry about what happened, Dana. But that’s a good man you got there. Take care of him—and yourself.”

  “I will. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  Elinor Ann hugged Hank, then turned to face me. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  “Of course I am, now that I’ve seen you. God, I’m glad you came.” I appraised her expression. “But what about you? I know it’s only half past six, but it’s a long way back to Kutztown.”

  She thought for a minute before responding. “You know something? I’ll be fine—I’m sure of it.”

  I gave her a nudge. “Oh, come on, Elinor Ann. Don’t you want to show off your new coping tactic? I’m sure the boys would love to see it.”

  She grinned. “Well, okay, but only if you join me.”

  “Deal.”

  The two of us shrugged off our jackets and tossed them into the bed of Cal’s pickup. Then, to the amazement of our respective men and assorted passersby, we dropped to the sidewalk and performed a symmetric set of squat thrusts, right there on Avenue A, just north of Sixth Street.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  NUDE ASCENDING A STAIRCASE

  Hank was quiet on the walk home—too quiet, as the cowboys in Westerns say, just before the Indians arrive to ambush their encampment and have their way with the womenfolk.

  Now you’ve done it, I thought to myself. Obviously my outburst in the restaurant had alienated him—not to mention put him on probation with Ethyl. I wanted to apologize, or explain, or implore him to forget what he’d seen, but instead I trudged along beside him, too nervous and too drained to know what to say.

  But everything changed as soon as we were inside the brownstone. Instantly my back was up against the wall and Hank was kissing me, fumbling with my belt buckle with one hand and undoing his with the other.