by Aliyat Lecky
“Hels, you have to tell me what happened. Can you do that?”
Helen began again. “I don’t know what to do, Angie. I can’t help him. I don’t know what to do to make him understand.”
“Oh, honey.”
“Richard is at home, drunk. Can you believe it? Rich is smashed.” She caught the look on Angie’s face, which she translated as, “How could you leave him home alone drunk?” and quickly added, “David is with him.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I moved out of our bedroom and into the guest room. I really had no other choice, Angie. He’s so hurt. I mean, he is so angry with me. He won’t listen to what I have to say. He only wants to argue with me. He will never understand if he won’t listen.”
“I know. Helen, it’s not your job to make him understand. You only need to explain yourself. You owe him that, but you don’t owe him your life. He won’t understand until he is ready. Helen, honey, he may never be ready to understand fully what’s happened, to you, to him, or your marriage. You have to know that. There is no easy solution. Someone is going to be hurt. The choice is, do you decide to live for yourself and what you need, or for him and what he needs. Unfortunately, for you, the both of you, your needs and his are, for the most part, diametrically opposed. You have to decide what you are going to do about that, and stick with it. Either change what you need, so that what you two need is congruent, or continue to carry on with your life. Honey, that may be without Richard. Only you can decide that.”
“Angie, I’ve made such a mess of things, haven’t I? I’ve ruined his life.”
“No. Not so much. At least not as much as you might believe. He will be okay after a while. He’s used to you, you know. We both know Richard is a strong, attractive, talented man. Not to mention ridiculously rich. Women will be running you over as soon as your back is turned. You won’t even get out of the garage before those buzzards start flying around him. They’ll leave skid marks on your back.”
Helen had to laugh at Angie in spite of herself. “Honestly, Angie, I hope so. I don’t like the idea of him spending the rest of his life alone.”
“So, then, it’s over, is it?” Angie sounded as though she could cry.
“Yes, I suppose so. I’m not planning to leave immediately. He’s asked me not to go until we try counseling. I said I’d go with him.” She frowned reflexively at the thought of marriage counseling. She knew in her heart it was an exercise in futility.
“Helen, do you think that’s wise? I mean, if you are planning to move out eventually, don’t you think it’s better to do so sooner, rather than later? Besides, you don’t want to give Richard any false hope.”
“No, I don’t.” Helen was pleased to hear that Angie was remaining loyal to them both. She wanted what was best for both of them. Helen knew their breakup would be nearly as hard on Angie and Orlando as it was for her and Richard. They were a foursome. They vacationed together. Orlando worked for Richard’s office as a senior staff member, as well as his campaign manager. Their daughter, Cynthia, and David were best friends. That was all about to come to an end. That alone was worth mourning. “I know he’s hoping marriage counseling will somehow fix all of his problems for him. I’ve told him that I would go to see a therapist with him, but I made it clear that my goal for going was to make sure we parted as amicably as possible.”
“You two are the most amicable couple I know.”
“Well, we’re not now.”
Angie didn’t seem to know how to reply. She stared at Helen, as if searching for an answer. Finding none, she said tenderly, “You know I love you, Hels.”
Helen rested her face on the heels of her hands. She was exhausted. They sat for hours, with Angie applying logic and humor to Helen’s situation, until Helen conceded to time and departed. She felt moderately better than when she arrived, but was still feeling fragile, as though she might shatter at any moment and send pieces of herself all over Angie’s imported, rustic Tuscan tile.
“Amicable. Yes, that was us.”
***
HELEN’S PLAN WAS to sneak back into the house so that she could avoid another contentious bout with her husband. As she left Angie’s, driving toward home, she couldn’t bear the thought of going back to a house that was filled with so much tension. She simply couldn’t steer her car back toward the house she shared with Richard. Helen was unsure as to where to go, so she let her heart guide the way. She exited into downtown and headed toward Noami’s. She looked at her dash clock. It was just after midnight.
“Who’s there?”
Noami welcomed Helen into her loft just past midnight.
“What are you doing out so late? What’s going on, I thought you mentioned staying in this evening? Come in. Come in.” Noami quickly assisted Helen in removing her coat.
Helen offered no explanation.
“Are you all right?” Noami’s concern was evident. “Helen, don’t stand here by the door. Come. Sit.” Noami led her to one of the few comfortable spaces to sit in her studio loft.
Helen pushed all the way back on the deep sofa, so that her feet swung free from the floor.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Noami retrieved a small throw and robe from a hall closet. She blanketed Helen as Helen had Richard hours earlier. The gesture warmed Helen more than the coverlet.
“Noami, do you mind if I stay the night?”
Noami appeared shocked by the question. “Of course not. Stay. I’ll get you something to sleep in.” She dashed to the kitchen to place the teakettle on to heat.
Helen looked up at Noami’s naked frame peeking out of the light robe she’d thrown on. “Don’t bother.”
Noami plied her with chamomile tea, until Helen was able to gain enough composure to stop crying. At precisely one-oh-three in the morning, Helen slid between warm sheets at the end of an unbearably long day. Despite the time, she felt inexplicably wide-awake. She chose not to rehash her day, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Noami, who was propped up on pillows with her sketchpad in hand on the other side of the bed, didn’t appear to be ready for sleep either. She lay in bed, watching Noami scratch gracefully across her pad. Peeking up at Noami’s work, she was unable to distinguish who Noami was drawing on the pad. Though she could make out the beginning of a face, there wasn’t enough of it to discern who the face belonged to.
“Who are you sketching?”
Noami stared down at Helen’s face half-concealed by her colorful duvet.
“No one important,” she replied, discarding the pad on the night table. “How do you feel? Would you like some more tea?” She slid deeper into the bed, supporting her head on her bent arm. “You didn’t look so great when you arrived. Are we going to talk about it?”
Helen smoothed the sheet between them. “Do you mind if we don’t?”
Noami shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t mind. I can only imagine.”
Helen reached out to feel the warmth of Noami’s face. “Don’t imagine. It’s not worth it. I just had a bad day, and I needed to see you.” She raised her mouth to Noami’s. As the kiss deepened, tension began to build in her body which was quite distinct from the genus that had occupied her the greater part of the day. The contact created a different anxiety in her relaxed body, which transformed and retreated into her core, winding its way tightly around itself, and preparing for a sumptuous release.
Noami whispered inaudible sweetness, assurances, and murmured secrets as she kissed her way down to the arch in her back.
“Tell me what you just said.” Helen whispered her demand between kisses.
“No.”
As they sighed together, Noami translated for her in a wordless language that Helen understood perfectly. Unfortunately, before Noami was able to release all the tension in Helen’s small frame, they were jarred out of the pre-orgasmic ecstasy of Noami’s excruciating exploration of Helen’s person by the sound of the phone ringing on the bedside table. Helen swore a
t the intrusion and the abrupt slackening of her abdominal muscles as the tautness dissipated without the accompaniment of orgasmic liberation.
“Damn.” Noami checked Helen’s frame of mind before surrendering to the objectionable incursion. She rolled away from Helen, cursing at the phone. “Who the hell is it?” Noami didn’t try to hide her displeasure from the person at the other end. “Wire, what do you want?”
Helen sat up at the mention of Noami’s ex. Noami peered uncomfortably over her shoulder at Helen who scooted closer to Noami on the bed. Hoping to catch Wire’s end of the conversation, Helen wondered if it was Wire’s custom to call so late in the evening.
“What do you want, Wire?” Noami demanded a second time. Her displeasure at having their intimacy interrupted matched Helen’s irritation at Wire calling her home at this hour. “No, I don’t want to talk.” She punctuated each syllable with angry gesticulation. “Are you kidding me? Have you any idea what time it is?” Noami paused. She appeared to be listening to Wire’s answer. “I can’t believe you. You don’t have the right to ask me those questions. I don’t have to answer you. I’ve asked you not to call me this late. I’ve also asked you not to use this number any longer.”
Pride spread through Helen. She was aware that Noami had two functioning phone numbers. The line Noami referred to was her private number that she only gave out to a few people. Helen was one of them. Helen scooted again so that their shoulders touched.
“No, absolutely not.” Noami held the phone so that Helen could better hear what Wire was saying. “No. Are you barking mad? No, you may not come over.” She turned to Helen, shaking her head incredulously. Then covering the mouthpiece, she said, “I can’t believe her. She wants to come over.”
Helen shrugged, trying to hide the bliss at Noami’s reaction to the late night call. “Just hang up.” She whispered so that Wire couldn’t hear her. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Helen rose to her knees and kissed Noami adoringly on the neck and jaw line.
Noami, heartened by Helen’s encouragement and her touch, attempted once more to end the call. “Besides, Wire, you have to let this go. I have moved on. So have you. You cannot call me every time you break it off with someone.” Noami shook her head. “No, you may not. We have nothing to talk about.”
Helen listened intently.
“Wire, you can’t. I don’t care how close you are, you may not just stop in.”
Helen was stunned. Was Wire really going to join them at any moment? She was so stunned, she forgot to whisper when she said, “Does she mean now, is she coming now?”
“It’s really none of your business if there is someone here with me now. As a matter of fact, I don’t really care if you are just downstairs, I have to go. I’ll talk to you some other time.”
Helen sprang from the bed to the large window overlooking the street. “Noami, she’s down there.”
“What?” Noami yelled toward Helen. “How dare you!” She spoke again into the phone. “Are you actually downstairs?”
Helen and Noami stared at the door as sounds of heels climbing the stairs came to them. Helen jumped back on the bed and under the covers, not wanting to expose her nakedness to the uncomfortable atmosphere filling the room.
Noami’s expression, which had reflected immense annoyance, transformed to infuriation. “You are going to what? I cannot believe you. You told me you lost that damn key.” Noami had abandoned the phone, and was screaming at the door. She slammed down the receiver on the cradle, and was halfway across the room to the closet. She roughly pulled on her robe, and tossed one over to Helen. In the moment it took for Wire’s final ascent to the top of staircase to sound, and the click of the metal connecting as Wire attempted to turn the key, Noami flung the door open, and snatched the key from the knob.
Helen, who hadn’t had time to pull on the robe, or assess the bizarre turn of events, remained on the bed, pulled the covers back to her chin, and simply watched the scene unfold before her.
“Who’s here?” Wire demanded.
“Wire, I am going to tell you this one last time, and I mean it. If you want to remain friends, or at least have some form of amity, and that is all we are ever going to have, you may not call me late at night. You may not simply stop by when it suits you. You may not call my private line. You may not inquire as to who is here with me at any time of the day or night, because it’s no longer any of your business. Most importantly, you may not barge in here in middle of the night, ruining a perfectly good climax.” With that, she slammed the door in Wire’s face so hard all four walls shook for several seconds.
In fact, the door hit the door jamb so hard, that Helen, who could see Noami was about to close the door, startled where she sat as the door locked explosively into place. Noami stomped across the room and threw herself between the sheets. “I can’t believe her gall.”
Helen, who was relieved to know that she was not the only one who might bring the drama to their relationship, snuggled as close to Noami as she could with her knees pulled to her chin, regretting not the interruption, but the loss Wire’s presence had cost.
Noami seemed prepared to apologize all night. “I guess we aren’t in for an easy time, are we?”
Helen couldn’t help but find humor in the evening, and simply replied, “Damn her. I very nearly came.”
FOURTEEN
HELEN RETURNED HOME the following afternoon, well-sated and feeling a little less guilty, to find Orlando’s car in the driveway. Angie wasn’t there. Much to her chagrin, Richard and Orlando were settled in the living room with their heads together. She slipped passed them to her room. She was sure Richard was aware that she failed to return the night before, and didn’t want to face him or any questions he might have. Besides, she was sure that Orlando’s presence meant that Richard was strategizing what his next move would be. If nothing else, Orlando was a strategist. That talent transferred as well to love as it did politics. Obviously, Orlando was there to help his pal save his marriage.
Thankfully, by the time Helen had showered and changed, Orlando was gone. Richard was in the kitchen, having just finished making a fresh pot of coffee. When Helen entered the room, he offered the hot pot to her.
“Coffee?” He pulled down a cup and poured without her responding. “You just missed Orlando. He says hello.”
Helen nodded. “I saw his car when I pulled in. Has he been here long? Did Angie come?” She felt remarkably stress-free, which was odd, given the circumstances.
“No she didn’t. She didn’t think you’d be home this morning, so she didn’t bother.” Richard, too, appeared oddly calm. He peered at her through the steam rising out of his mug. He was wearing his poker face, the one he used when he needed to navigate rough political waters. “Sugar?” He slid the caddy down the counter. The silver platter sliding easily over the custom surface.
“No, thanks, I’ll have it black. Thanks.” Helen turned to leave.
“Yes, you like it black these days, don’t you?”
“My coffee, yes.” Helen remarked over her shoulder without looking back. She couldn’t help but chuckle at Richard’s small joke. Not because what he said was at all humorous. In fact, she thought his comment was offensive, but she couldn’t help but celebrate, because Richard had tipped his hand. In the few minutes they spent watching the other over the escaping vapors of their hot beverage, he had revealed to her that she was now engaged in a game of chess—the winner would take all.
Orlando’s advice had been not to push her, to allow Helen her freedom until she realized the mistake she was making. That meant, of course, that being congenial and charming was compulsory. However, Helen realized as she went to her room in search of her laptop that Richard’s pride would not allow him to be completely affable, as evidenced by his black joke. When forced to accept something he didn’t want to, he would inevitably become passive aggressive. He would appear to comply with Orlando’s counsel, while in the process, he would become increasingly host
ile and angry.
Helen’s conjecture proved true. Before midday, she found the first note he left for her on the refrigerator: Please let me know when you are going to be out all night. I worry. I do still love you. Thank you. Love, Richard. The second note he left for her on her bedroom door while she was in the backyard shoveling the garden walk. It read: I’ve invited Orlando and Angie for dinner on Saturday. Let me know as to your availability.
The pinnacle of his passive aggressive behavior for the day occurred during dinner. Helen prepared a late meal of roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes, and brussel sprouts. For the most part, they shared their meal and enjoyed small talk. The tenor of the meal changed when Richard reached unexpectedly across the table, taking Helen’s hand, holding it tightly in his own.
“Helen, I love you.”
“Richard, let’s not.” Helen tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast.
“Just listen for a minute. I have something I want to tell you. I think it may change things, between us, I mean.” Richard didn’t release her hand, and reached for the other.
“Richard, I’d like my hand back.” Helen attempted to smile, but the act wasn’t successful. Instead of smiling, her face turned impassive, and she pulled hard enough to yank her hand free. She folded her fingers on her lap, having suddenly lost her appetite. “If you will excuse me, I think I’ll turn in early tonight. Good night, Richard.” Helen quickly scraped her plate into the sink and placed it gently into the dishwasher. “When you’re done, will you start the dishwasher, please?”
“Helen, I don’t mind if you keep her.”
Helen stopped just short of the door. Had he said what she imagined he had? “What?” She turned to face him. “What did you just say to me?”