When the waitress came to clear their plates and to ask about dessert, Annabeth declined but Charles ordered coconut cake for himself. "You must have half of mine," he insisted, and when the cake arrived, he speared a bite on his fork and fed it to her, watching her mouth as the food was inserted. Charles flushed a deep shade of crimson then smiled at Annabeth, and without stopping to taste the cake himself, he fed her another bite, his hand trembling.
"I'm eating all your cake," protested Annabeth, but when he fed her the third bite she did not refuse it. By the fifth bite, something in her relaxed and yielded to him, and before half the slice was consumed she had become docile, opening her mouth for each bite and swallowing it obediently as he fed her.
"I'm a giver, you know," said Charles, "Not a taker."
Annabeth looked deeply into his eyes as he spoke, then meekly opened her mouth for the last bite of cake.
Charles paid the bill then said, "I'm going to drive you home." A peaceful sensation settled over Annabeth, and she felt calm and unworried for the first time since the scenes with George and R.J. She kept reminding herself that after all she had a right to some happiness, and that thought continued to play softly in her mind like faint music from a neighbor's stereo.
Charles followed Annabeth into her house, waited while she fed the cat, and then looking around appraisingly for a mere second, he took her hand and pulled her gently toward the stairs, whispering almost inaudibly, "More than anything in my life, I want to make love to you tonight."
Annabeth relaxed and let herself be led, her hand in his, her footsteps following softly behind his. Soon they lay on the bed and Charles was kissing her with tenderness and urgency. Her mind, always a blur during sex, almost ceased to function, but for the soft phrase appearing from below the surface now and then, an echo of comfort and hope, she had a right to some happiness.
Charles, blushing and fumbling, sighing and whispering, "I want to do everything, everything I never got to do," managed to undress her gently, and to undress himself as well. When they were there naked together he stammered, "I wish…if only I were…it's been so long…I probably can't…." He rose on his elbow to gaze at her body, and she lay there softly smiling up at him, willing and available, then he reached over and clutched her hard to him, and she knew he wanted her to become the receptacle for his long buried passions, the vehicle that would somehow transport him out of the humdrum life he led and into one that delivered the thrills that would make him feel alive at last.
Annabeth, sensitive to electricity and weather conditions, felt the power of Charles' yearning, and in its transfer to her, it ignited a passion that allowed her to reach for him tenderly and hold him close. She felt his hands on her, exploring her skin in a way that was almost religious, and the oceans inside her churned in response.
She had suddenly become the goddess he yearned to make of her, welcoming him as he pulled himself on top of her, pressed himself into her, hearing him whisper "I want to do this for a long time, forever," but being out of practice and not in the best of shape physically, he lost control and finished far too quickly, at once sighing in despair and moaning in pleasure. Annabeth, her body able always to flow in the moment, did not mind the haste, and in feeling Charles' release found her own and was content. She breathed deeply, letting her heart return to its proper rhythm as Charles remained on top of her, clinging tightly to her, his breath as labored as her own.
When he had regained his equilibrium, Charles slid down, resting his head in the valley between Annabeth's breasts and he began to speak, his voice hoarse and halting yet sure. "Wonderful," he said, "That was wonderful."
"Yes," she said, "It was. Thank you."
Charles raised his head and looked her in the eye. "You've given me my whole future and you're thanking me? Thank you." Annabeth smiled without speaking, allowing him to continue, "Marry me Annabeth. With you I can be the person I always wanted to be. I would do everything I could to make you happy, to take care of you, to give you everything you need, you know that."
Charles snuggled back down against her breast, lost in the comfort of the moment. Annabeth relaxed as she lay there, her hand stroking Charles' hair and her mind floated free for just an instant until the thoughts therein gained focus. She tried to concentrate, to will to herself a vision of the future, but her mind was a blur. She needed to think, and after the evening's events, that took effort. The fear that had been gnawing at her demanded her attention and she faced it squarely. She was terrified of being alone. Then, in a moment of clarity, she asked herself why and waited for the answer to emerge. Casting her mind back over the past, over all of her life that she had so far lived, she saw herself taking care of everyone around her, almost from her earliest memory, and it was the needs of everyone else that had defined her. She thought of R.J. and how she had loved him, but could not understand why. She had cared for George and envisioned a future with him although their relationship consisted of nothing more than sex. Now here she was in bed with yet another man, one who was offering her the future she had always wanted.
Annabeth wrapped her arms tightly around Charles who lay quietly, savoring the moment, and giving her the time to consider his offer. Annabeth remembered her early romance with her husband and admitted to herself for the first time that she had married him, yes because she was pregnant, but really because she expected no one else to come along. He was there and she had gone with him, just as she had gone to bed with George and now with Charles--not so much out of her own desire but because they'd asked her. Had she ever made one choice of her own in all her life, she asked herself, knowing too well what the answer was.
Looking down at Charles lying so intimately with her, Annabeth knew absolutely that she did not love him. She liked him, and she suspected that in time she could feel devotion. Was that enough? Enough to exchange for a guarantee that she would not be alone? A yearning so strong that it almost overpowered her rose in her heart and Annabeth was tempted to yield, to accept his offer, to trade her future and all the fearful uncertainty it contained for the guarantee that he'd promised of companionship and devotion. How comforting was the idea of that safety, of knowing that he would always be there for her, with her, loving and caring for her.
"Charles," she said, trembling and speaking so quietly her voice was almost inaudible, "You're a wonderful lover. Tonight was beautiful, just beautiful."
Hearing her speak, Charles sat up and rested his head against the pillow. He smiled, then blushed at her praise. Annabeth reached out and took his hand in hers, feeling him tremble with anticipation.
"But I can't marry you. First of all, you're not even free to make that offer, but that's not the real point. The real point is I'm not free to accept any offer. I need to find out who I am--just me--and what I really want--and I need to go get it for myself." Although she had made that statement, Annabeth couldn't quite believe it, and despite the fact that it felt right, it took some time for her to adjust, so she remained silent as her own words were absorbed into her consciousness.
"But you told me to be bold, to reach out and make love to you. To get what I wanted."
"I said to get what you wanted, yes. I didn't mean me."
Charles scowled, then tried to salvage something. "We can date. I'll leave Sara. I should have done it long ago anyway, there's nothing there. Nothing for a long, long time."
Annabeth shook her head, wanting not to be unkind, but needing to be honest. "I can't tell you what to do about your marriage. But I also can't promise to date you. I slept with you for the wrong reasons."
"And now you're sorry?" Charles' voice cracked as he spoke.
Annabeth smiled and shook her head, "No, of course not. You were wonderful. It was wonderful. I'm not sorry. I just all of a sudden realized that I have to get my own life in order."
"I'll wait for you. It'll be hard to work with you every day, wanting to be with you every night, but I can wait if I have to."
Her heart perfectly in focus at
last, Annabeth said, "No, I can't let you wait."
Charles, all his new expectations dashed, became enraged. "I'm just not good enough for you, is that it?" He reached for his clothes, glancing at the clock. "This--tonight--meant nothing."
"No, it was wonderful. I meant that."
"Then why would you want not to continue?"
"I almost said yes. But I just can't. I don't know why."
Charles, now fully dressed, glanced again at Annabeth, who was wrapping herself in a robe. "I feel as though I've been tricked, cheated of all my dreams," he said and sank back down on the bed.
Taking a big gulp, Annabeth answered, "I'm sure you can make your dreams come true--if you really want them," and then seeing the misery on his face, she continued, "I should probably not come back to work. I don't belong behind an ice cream counter anyway, and it would be easier for you if I weren't there."
"Fine--have it any way you want."
The last words she said to him were "I'm sorry," but he did not turn back to look at her when he left her front door and walked to his car. It was but a moment and then the sound of the car faded and the night was once again silent. Annabeth looked up at the sky. Where before it had been a brilliant electric blue with a faint pink glow along the horizon, now it was inky, partitioned by a sliver of a moon and Venus, dwarfing all the other stars. She sank down into one of the porch rockers and gazed for a long while at the heavens.
He would have come through for her; she could have trusted him. He would have given her everything she'd ever wanted and more. Maybe he was her last chance. Facing that fact was hard and from her eyes a steady stream of tears began to flow, but she did not sob. Instead Annabeth sat there, thinking about her past, and about the future, the blank slate that she would have to fill on her own. She had quit her job. What would she do with her time? How would the rest of her life take form? Annabeth did not know. Now she couldn't get the mortgage to save her house. They wouldn't count her crafts earnings for two years and she didn't have two years. Would her painting be enough to sustain her? For a brief moment she thought of going to see Charles at work and accepting his offer, if he still wanted her, yet something in her knew she could not.
At the end of that deserted street, on her lonely porch she sat, and all she heard was the scraping of the chair's rockers against the base of the porch. Each movement caused a little squeak and it was a comforting sound whose rhythms soothed her. She looked out at the night, at the bayou flowing near the house, at the trees surrounding it and Annabeth's breath remained steady for a long, comforting moment. Eventually she grew chilly in the evening air, and she rose to walk back inside, gazing wistfully up at the moon and the evening star.
There was always something comforting about entering the door of her home, but tonight the house was just still. Annabeth looked around. In every corner it seemed that a ghost from the past sprung up, playing out a scene from long ago, from the life she had led which now was over. There was where the girls had tea parties, and there where Sally slipped and broke her arm, there where Laurel had the first of many fights with her father, there where R.J. had kissed her under some mistletoe, there where they'd carved the Halloween pumpkins, hid the Easter baskets, spread the Christmas presents, photographed the girls in their prom gowns, where they'd lived and laughed and been a family.
It was all gone now, completed and done, she thought, then realized, no it wasn't gone at all, it was alive in her, in all of them, as real in memory as it was in fact. She cast her eyes about the house, a place she'd loved since the first moment she'd seen it and Annabeth came to a realization. It wasn't the house she wanted to preserve, but the life she led there, a life she would never lead again. The house contained nothing more than things, the stuff of a lifetime but not the lifetime itself. "Oh!" she spoke aloud to the empty rooms, "I could leave this house or keep it, what matters is in me, not inside these walls."
15
"She should have done this years ago. Annabeth climbed the attic stairs, determined to start at the top and work down. There was probably a ton of stuff up there for no reason at all anymore, stuff she should have dumped ages ago. The stairs creaked in their familiar way, but Annabeth didn't take notice. A box of large plastic bags in her hand, she was ready to confront whatever lay upstairs. She would keep just the treasures and the fondest of memories, and let go of all the rest. That way the past was no burden and there was room for the future.
Annabeth surveyed the attic. It was chockablock with the castoffs of everyone in the family, items too good to part with, too useless to be kept downstairs. Where to begin? There were many boxes, a couple of filing cabinets, the huge table she had painted, its designs covered by the things piled on top of it, a couple of trunks, also painted but now rather dusty, and a huge decorated armoire with a couple of drawers at the bottom and elaborately painted doors and which featured mermaids swimming inside and out. Thinking clothes would be easier to manage, she walked first to the armoire and gently opened its doors.
"Oh my," sighed Annabeth, flooded with memories. Halloween costumes she had sewn for the girls--one silver lamé costume looked like it belonged in Las Vegas! Annabeth touched it, marveling at the work she had done, at the image of Laurel ringing doorbells in it. Sally's majorette outfit--and the baton! And smaller yet, the tutus the girls had both worn for a ballet recital. Annabeth allowed her hands to float over the garments, knowing that they were ordinary things, yet in seeing and touching them again, she felt herself transported back through time, back to the days when she was oh so much younger and life was simple. She was the mom and they were young girls and it was all so terribly sweet and poignant, time floating past so swiftly there was no sense of its fleeting ways, just life being lived in the moment and passing to the next, no time for reflection, but all the time in the world for love and good feelings, for the girls to flourish and for Annabeth to nurture them, day after day, year after year.
"Oh no," she sighed softly, her heart awash in tenderness, "I can never part with these things. No, never." There should be a time every day, every hour, when we stop life from whizzing by and just pause to appreciate these moments that will never come again, but they flow so fast, so freely, one piling upon the other, leaves torn off the branches of thousands of trees and fluttering spent to the ground, each covering over the last until there are a pile of them all mingled together in rosy autumn hues, fading swiftly and soon to be blown away.
Annabeth let these sentiments flow over and through her, and she knew it was the right thing to do. She hadn't lived in a vacuum. She had been there day after day with her girls and she hadn't missed a moment of their youth; nor was she missing anything now; she was right there for it all, and oh so glad of it. One by one she examined the garments and pushed them aside, leaving them in the armoire. Dresses worn in school plays, first sewing attempts, a special outfit now long out of style but still beloved by its owner, even the simple minidress she'd worn when she and R.J. eloped, and on and on until she found the last dress, one pushed almost to the back.
Lifting it out of the armoire, Annabeth closed one door, and standing in front of the mirror, she held the dress up to herself.
I look so grown up in this, just like an adult, well maybe someone in college, at least a senior, not a junior, not at all. Front…back…side…. Thinner too! Twirl…. Oh! Look how it floats. How did they do that little flip to the hem…Hmm…let me see…no, I probably can't do that at home…not without Mom to help me figure it out…
Oh…she's been gone such a short time but it seems forever….She would have loved this dress. Lean over…cleavage? No! Oh, I wanted a little cleavage. Oh! Wicked thought…just a slight vee...that lovely sapphire I have…my eyes will really sparkle…. Oh! Twirl! Dancing with someone…with who? Oh dancing…will someone ask me? I wish I could ask them the way Maggie does…I could never...could I? No. What about these? How many? Six! Six fit me…no this one…this is the one…I love this dress. Careful…careful…don't want to
mess it up...back on the hanger, don't catch the fabric…so soft...plastic shoulder cover thingy…get it on straight…keep the dress perfect…. I have the credit card, right…silly…I checked five minutes ago...credit card…just like a grown up. Oh! I love this dress. Hope Dad doesn't think it's too expensive…no, he won't…he'll say my eyes sparkle and I look thinner…no…Mom would have said that…maybe…no she would have said sort of thinner, not bad… Mom …Mom….Oh…Mom…Hold it high, no silly, it's not long, it's above my knee, it won't drag. "I love this dress," silly talking outloud to myself.
"Annabeth!" Maggie squealing at me from the next stall…. "I didn't know you were coming today. We could have come together."
"I thought you were babysitting." Wait 'till she sees my dress. She'll love it. Opening the door...walking out…"Look, Maggie, for the spring dance."
"No! Can't be!" Maggie holding up her dress--the same dress.
I was here first. I love this dress. Look at Maggie, she loves it too. Oh…no…oh….. I have the blue eyes. Hers are brown. She could wear pink.
"I have to have this dress," Maggie, whining at me. "When the Hawk dances with me, I want my skirt to twirl and swirl."
"I have the blue eyes."
"Look over there. They have tons of blue dresses. Though I think we shouldn't both be wearing the same color since we'll be standing next to each other."
"Let's flip for it. Have a quarter?" I don't want to be fair about it, but what can I do…here's a quarter…flip…oh please….
"Heads," Maggie, always so confident, so sure, so strong….
Oh…please…opening my hand…Tails! I win!
Maggie snatching the quarter and flipping it over, looking for the head side. "You win I guess. He probably won't even notice me in any of these other dresses."
A Change of Heart Page 22