Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

  “That being?”

  “I cheat when I’m behind.”

  An hour later, the two of them walked leisurely down the winding lane where the streetlights were just flickering to life. Barney tugged at his leash with each new smell he detected. Tiny stars pricked a darkening sky in the throes of giving way to the oncoming night. Janet said, “So, now that I’ve agreed to this ice cream, what makes you happy?”

  Neil was quiet a moment then said, “Seeing my daughter grow into a beautiful woman; being with my grandson. I missed them when I was back east, but I didn’t know how much until I came out here. I was too busy mourning my wife.”

  Janet spied him. She knew his wife had died in a car accident a few years back.

  He shot her a half-smile. “So, now that I’ve answered your question, what makes you happy?”

  Janet looked away, unwilling to meet his probing gaze. Me, and my big mouth! “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I honestly don’t know.”

  He frowned. “Now you’re cheating.”

  “No, really, I mean it.”

  He quietly assessed her. “Okay, fair enough. Now that I think of it, not many of us know what makes us happy anymore.”

  “Sort of sad, isn’t it?” she said as they came up to the ice-cream stand.

  “Yeah, it is.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and eyed her defiantly as she went for her purse.

  They sat on a wooden bench beside the parlor under the soft yellow glow of a streetlight. The stand hummed with the chatter of adults and teens. Someone in line had a radio tuned to a rock station. Neil looked around at the patrons moving in and out of line and plowed into his cone. When he pulled back, Janet giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” he said, wiping his mouth.

  “You attack that thing like it’s gonna run away. Ice cream should be eaten slowly … savored.”

  “Except when you’re old,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, please!”

  He grunted. “Hey, I’m a grandfather now so that gives me the right.”

  “Really?” She eyed him as he shot her a cock-eyed look. “I think age is all in the head. If you think you’re old; you are.” She crossed her legs.

  “Maybe.” He paused and after a minute sat back. “If you asked most of these people here if they were happy right now, I bet they’d say they were, and for no other reason than they wouldn’t want to be seen as gloom and doom.”

  “Good point. So do you fall into that category?”

  He nodded and took another bite of his cone. “Sometimes. I mean, there are times when I feel good, like when I’m around family or when I’m busy doing something I enjoy. But being happy all the time … I think that’s impossible. If you were, you’d get pretty boring after a while.”

  “My thought, too. I wonder if people in church ever consider the down side of heaven. I mean, it’s supposed to be no more tears and all that stuff.”

  He shrugged. “Never considered that before. Hmmm, there’s more to you than meets the eye young lady.”

  “Young lady?” she said, and bit into her cone. Barney pressed his jaw onto her knee, letting her know he was waiting for a treat. She gave him a scratch behind the ear.

  Neil said, “Well, you are to me.”

  “Uh-huh. But I think it has more to do with me being a woman than age. You know, women mature quicker than men.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

  “Well, it’s true … old man!” She stuck her tongue out at him and smiled.

  “Ouch!” he said.

  At that, she licked her finger and drew a ‘1’ in the air. He shook his head and they both laughed. She said, “Shall we start back?”

  He got up and took their napkins to the trash. When he returned, he had an odd look on his face as if he wanted to tell her something but didn’t know how to go about it. They stood looking up at the sky, occasionally exchanging glances.

  Clearing his throat, he pointed upward and said, “See that cluster of stars shaped like a ‘W’? That’s Cassiopeia. And the star to the right over there is Polaris.”

  Okay, where did that come from? Janet thought. “Yes, I know.” She was about to point out Leo Minor but held back. “I see you’re an astronomy buff.”

  He smiled. “Not really. Just dabble in it from time to time. You probably know more than I do. I better shut up before I make a fool of myself.” He eyed her again. “This was fun.”

  “Yes, it was.” She waited for him to make the first move back to the house. When he did, she added, “I was thinking about sitting out on the back deck. Would you like to join me? We could go over the next photo-shoot.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said, and flashed a broad grin. “I think Meg has a bottle of wine floating around somewhere. We could keep our bones warm with it.”

  Janet cocked her brow. “Ice cream and wine?”

  “But of course!” he said with a poorly rendered French accent.

  “That was awful,” she replied, and they both laughed.

  As darkness crept in over Megan’s back yard, they sipped wine and watched the lights in the upper windows of the houses around them turn on and off. The murmur of the TV trickled out from the den where Brad watched a game. Janet peered up at the sky. The raw beauty and incomprehensible ancientness of it always took her breath away.

  Neil broke into her thoughts. “When I was a kid, we had a hammock out in the back yard. I used to climb into it at night and watch for shooting stars. My grandfather told me they were Orion’s arrows.”

  Janet smiled. “Did you know early man used to believe each star represented a campfire of their ancestors?”

  “No, I didn’t. That’s a neat thought.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she muttered as Barney curled into a ball at her feet. Breathing in the night air, heavy with the perfume of stargazer lilies, she added, “Do you believe in a higher power?”

  “You mean, God?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sipped his wine and was quiet a moment. “Not in the traditional sense.”

  “Me neither,” she agreed. “So, what do you believe?”

  He chuckled quietly. “You really want to know?” When she nodded, he sat back. “A friend of mine, long ago, once told me he believed that Creation is becoming aware of its existence. He said to me … ‘Since all life comes from star-stuff, and man is asking questions about where the universe came from, then it stands to reason that humanity is the universe asking questions. It’s becoming aware of itself, and it wants answers.’ That, in a nut-shell, makes me believe there’s something beyond our wildest imagination out there.”

  “That’s a mind bender,” she said, intrigued with the idea. “Sort of like a child asking questions of its parents.”

  “Exactly.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “So, what do you believe?”

  “I don’t know. I want to believe in something, but I don’t know where to look,” she replied, sinking into the warmth of her jacket. “I just know I don’t want to go through life the way I was before the accident … like an ant crawling on the ground.”

  She turned and looked at him. His face was hidden in deep shadow, but she could feel his eyes on her. “When I had the accident and I was trapped in the car, I remembered my father and me fishing at camp. I was eight. It was one of the few times I ever felt connected to him. Suddenly, in those last few moments, I wanted to see him one last time, tell him I loved him. It was then I realized some things really do matter, that life isn’t about going through the motions.” She fell silent.

  Neil drained the rest of his wine. “You’re right. Life isn’t about going through the motions.” He stood up. “This stuff is running right through me. Be right back.”

  Janet heard the sliding glass door swish open behind her. After he came back, she said, “So, what drew you to become an architect?”

  He sat down with the bottle and refilled his glass. “Tell you the truth, it wasn’t my first choice. I wanted
to be an artist, work for one of the big ad studios in the city. I had excellent grades so I applied to Cooper Union.”

  “Cooper Union! Wow, you really shot for the top.”

  “Yeah, little did I know how high the top was. I knew I was screwed when I went down to the city for a visit and saw what I’d be competing against. I was good, but not that good.” He sipped his wine. “So, after much brooding and feeling sorry for myself, I started exploring other areas and found architecture … or it found me.”

  “I never viewed architecture as art before,” she said. “I always thought it was just about construction: how you put a building together; engineering stuff.”

  Neil laughed. “That’s what most people think. They don’t realize buildings say a whole lot about a culture, a people. Take for example, the Empire State building. When you see it, you think of New York City. It’s more than a building. It’s a place, a presence people identify with. Same’s true with the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame Cathedral. Architecture is an expression for how we see our place in the world.”

  “I read a history book in high school that said no building in medieval Europe could stand taller than a cathedral spire.”

  “That’s right.” He set his wine glass down on the deck rail beside him. “In fact, architecture owes much to the religions of the world.”

  “Why’s that?” Janet said.

  “They pushed the envelope of engineering with their desire to create a house worthy of God, or gods, depending on what religion you’re talking about. Take Notre Dame again. You walk inside, and marvel at the space. It’s huge and yet you don’t find any columns to speak of that support the roof which, by the way, is vaulted.”

  “How’s that?” Janet said.

  “They created what is known as flying buttresses. The columns supporting the roof and preventing it from spreading are on the outside. And then, there’s the Pantheon with its dome of concrete spanning a hundred and fifty feet, give or take.”

  Janet eyed him suspiciously. “A hundred and fifty feet?”

  “I’m not kidding.” He paused and crossed his legs. “Only the religions of the world with their desire to please their gods could drive us to go beyond the bounds of accepted practice. And because of that, we have buildings like the World Trade Center, the Sydney Opera House, and domed stadiums.

  The sounds of a car pulling in the driveway made them cock their heads. Barney sat up, ears pricked. “I think that’s Megan,” Neil said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Janet glanced at her watch. Wow, we’ve been out here for two hours. She leaned back and relaxed as the doorbell rang. Barney barked at a strange voice murmuring through the house. Janet frowned. Why’s Megan ringing the doorbell? Rising, she slid the door back and stepped inside. As Barney raced past her down the hall, she heard Neil’s distraught voice.

  “What? When? Is she all right? Where is she?”

  8

  After Janet shooed them off, Brad and Neil piled into Brad’s truck and peeled out of the driveway, following the patrol car to the hospital. Megan had been found stabbed and raped near the dumpster at the back of the Reporter’s parking lot.

  Janet sat on the couch over the last three hours, nibbling her fingernails by the phone waiting for news. As she did so, the memory of what had happened to her years ago in a dark little room in her uncle’s barn played over and over in her head.

  Fucking monster! Janet bit back rage and tried to focus her thoughts on her friend. Megan you have to be all right! The baby cried out. She went to his room and cracked the door. In the sliver of the soft, gold light bolting in from the hallway, she saw him turn his head to look at her through the slats of the crib.

  His deep blue eyes locked onto her. “Momma, momma.”

  Oh, God! She never thought she’d ever hear those words directed toward her. Children were never part of her life plan. But something deep inside stirred and she closed her eyes. Gathering strength, she opened them and went in. When he saw her close up, he cried, “Where momma? Momma?”

  “She’s not home right now, Kyle.” She sniffed and felt his bottom. “You’re wet. How ‘bout we get you changed?”

  He balled his hand up and rubbed his eyes as she laid him on the changing table. While she unbuttoned his layette, his innocent gaze penetrated her defenses, melting her anger and fear and the ugly memory that had taunted her for so long. In that moment, the child reached a part of her no one had ever touched, and a sudden tear leaked out of her eye.

  The phone rang, rousing Janet from a fitful sleep. Lurching upright, she glanced at Kyle snuggled up in a blanket beside her on the couch with his hand clutching a little black, plush bear. The clock over the TV pointed to 3:05 AM. She braced herself and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Janet … Brad.”

  “How is she,” she said, holding her breath.

  “Stable. Just came out of surgery. No major damage, but she lost a lot of blood. How’s Kyle?”

  She ran her hand lightly over the little boy. Felt the rise and fall of his sleeping body. “He’s fine.”

  Brad’s reedy voice sounded strained and tired. “Good … we’re gonna be here awhile more. There’s cereal in the cupboard above the toaster. Formula’s in the cabinet under the silverware drawer. Three scoops to a bottle.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” She paused. “You guys all right?”

  “We’re doing.” He paused then said, “It’s late. I better get going and let you get some sleep.”

  Janet yawned. “I’m okay. Say, what about the party? Can I call anyone? Let ‘em know it’s off?”

  “Shit! I … yes, if you wouldn’t mind. Their numbers are in the address book on the kitchen counter. Wait, you don’t know who’s coming.”

  “You can let me know in the morning.”

  “Oh, duh! It’s the middle of the night. Shit, look, I gotta go. And hey, thanks.”

  “No problem. Bye.”

  Brad hung up, and in the wake of the dial tone, Janet heard an unsaid, ‘What if she doesn’t make it?’

  The next day –

  Janet put Kyle down for an afternoon nap when she heard the front door open. She tiptoed out of the room and met Brad shuffling down the hall. Their eyes locked briefly, and a quick hello followed before he slipped into his bedroom. A moment later, she heard the shower turn on. I’ll put a pot of coffee on. He looks like he could use a cup.

  Her back was turned when he stepped into the kitchen twenty minutes later. She looked over her shoulder as she drained her third cup of coffee. Brad was shirtless and kneading his neck. A large black tattoo of a cobra sprawled across his chest. She never liked tattoos, so she averted her gaze.

  “Meg hates it, too,” Brad said, edging up to the island countertop.

  Yeah! I can understand. It’s hideous. “How is she?”

  “Holding her own. She has multiple stab wounds. One of them grazed a blood vessel in her leg. Doctor called it … a fem-a fem-something.”

  “Femoral artery,” Janet said.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Anyways, she lost a lot of blood like I said, but she’s gonna make it.” He stretched his muscular arms out, gripped the edge of the countertop and stiffened his jaw. “They caught the asshole though. A convicted sex offender! Apparently, he saw Meg, Char, and Clancy come back from dinner last night. Staked the lot out and waited.”

  Brad blinked and Janet saw rage fill his dark brown eyes.

  Trembling, he cleared his throat. “Meg parked near the dumpster, so obviously, she was his first choice.”

  He took a deep breath, releasing his savage grip on the countertop and tilted his head back. “How’s Kyle?”

  Janet drifted to the coffee maker, pulled a mug down from the cupboard and poured him a cup of coffee. “He’s good. How’s Neil?”

  “All right, I guess,” Brad replied, taking the mug. He slugged back a gulp and snuffed. “I’ll be heading back up soon as I get changed and find his meds.” He shook his h
ead and stared into space. “You know what’s sad?”

  “What’s that?” Janet said, watching him struggle to keep his composure.

  “We had this fight yesterday afternoon. I was pissed ‘cause she volunteered to work overtime. Which meant I had to pick up Kyle from daycare.” He bit his lip and turned back to face her. “You know what I found in the back seat of her car when I went to pick it up this morning?”

  Janet shook her head.

  “A brand new set of clubs! Pings! She bought me fucking Pings! She’d been saving up for ‘em all year. Am I an asshole or what?” He sucked down the rest of his coffee and ran a hand over his brow. “Anyway, Thanks for taking care of Kyle and for making coffee. Meg was right. You’re aces.” He set his cup down. “I guess it takes shit like this to find out who your friends are. I was wrong about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, yeah. You were never in my top twenty list.”

  Janet smiled dimly. “Well yeah, don’t feel too bad. You weren’t on mine, either.” And still aren’t, but you’re moving up. “You better get going.”

  “Right.” He turned and stepped out of the room.

  Later that night, Janet set Kyle in his playpen and sat on the couch, watching him play with his toys. Her leg bothered her more than usual today. She rubbed it as Kyle looked up at her through the mesh of the playpen. He was quiet, studied her a minute then went back to playing.

  She dragged the evening paper over from the table beside her. Glanced at the front page. Tried to take her mind off things but realized too late the paper was the last thing she should have run to. In the bottom, lower right hand corner, a headline in bold letters said, ‘Reporter Employee Attacked in Parking Lot.’

  She folded the paper up and tossed it in the trash.

  Two days later –

  Janet heard Brad’s truck pull into the driveway as she sat on the back deck. The truck door shut and a minute later, she saw Neil raiding the refrigerator through the screen of the open sliding glass door.

  “Hi. Let me make you a sandwich or something,” she said, getting up.

  “That’s all right. I got it,” Neil answered.

  “You sure?”