We stared at each other, aunt and niece. Supplicant and wise woman. The wind rustled the leaves of nearby trees, providing faint applause to the solemn, dramatic climax of the scene.
“Some hurts are too deep for kisses, Sandi,” I managed at last. “But a loving kiss always helps.”
She scrambled to her knees and kissed my damp cheek with a zestful smack. Giggled. “You taste salty, like a pretzel.”
Greek tragedy followed by a stand-up comic routine. The ending of a relationship begun over a pretzel had been sealed by a pretzel kiss. My lips shaped a feeble grin at the irony.
“You smiled! I win!”
Sandi tossed her ball into the air, sparking a wild game of soccer in which three other children and a cocker spaniel joined in. Watching the exuberant participants with envy, I longed for the ability to enter Sandi’s protected world, where a smile meant security and kisses healed all wounds.
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine Ken’s arms around me. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—make love to a woman with a belly like a sack of potatoes.
A robin stalked past on fragile legs. I reflected on how the males of the animal world often deserted their mates during gestation. Honoring no commitment, they choose instead to live without responsibility while the female raises the young alone, defends her offspring with tooth and claw.
Although I still ached to feel Ken’s fingers entwined in my hair and nibble his skin again, the memory of that slammed door echoed in my head.
What if instead of pregnancy temporarily reshaping my body, an accident permanently scarred my face? Or my breasts—which Ken called “my beauties” and fondled like precious gems—were invaded by cancer cells? Would he pack his bags for departure while I lay helpless in a hospital bed?
A tune ran through my head, a ditty chanted when I was a child. Looking back, that singer had been breathtaking in her naiveté. Love and marriage don’t always go together like a horse and carriage. Without commitment, infatuation burns at passion’s white hot, fever pitch but when the inevitable cooling takes place, nothing lasting has been forged. Only ashes remain, dead, gray ashes.
I had never played Sandi’s game with Ken. Honey, do you love me? Yes, honey, I love you, but only on my terms...
The taste of ashes filled my mouth. Bitter, charred, dead. My relationship with Ken had existed only on a mundane physical plane; the spiritual heights of ecstasy had been attained only in my imagination.
Sandi squealed. The ball skimmed across the grass, leaving no permanent track or evidence of its passage.
“Let’s go home and help your mom fix dinner.”
On the way back to the car, I carried the blanket and Sandi clutched the carryall. She walked sedately by my side, the reclaimed, oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose, giving my little waif the jaunty air of a child starlet on an outing with her nanny.
A bed of tulips caught her hopscotch attention and she rushed over to examine the blossoms just beginning to unfold, their furled petals concealing the mystery of color.
“Can I pick one of these for Mommy?” Sandy asked, a chubby finger stroking a tightly curled bud.
I crouched, too, the breeze ruffling my hair, and faced the knowledge that the hollowness within me came not from Ken’s rejection, but from my futile desire to reclaim that which was irrevocably lost.
Ken made his decision. I must make mine.
My heart gave a funny little leap, like a lamb in springtime, and I kissed my niece’s flushed cheek. “The flower will bloom and become beautiful for everyone to enjoy if you let it grow, Sandi. Such things only get better with time.”
Behind us, the robin rose into the air with the promise of new life in the beat of its wings.
THE END
The Friendship Ring
Except for a new jungle gym and the fresh coating of paint on the picnic tables, the park hadn’t changed, April thought. Switching off the ignition, she turned to her daughters. “Would you like to stretch your legs before we go to the apartment and unpack the car?
Filled with pent-up energy after hours of travel, they shouted a gleeful assent. The chubby legs of three year old Beth churned across the grass as she headed for the kiddie swings, April following more slowly. Annie, conscious of the dignity of an added four years, walked over to watch other children on the seesaws.
After making sure the safety belt was fastened across Beth’s tummy, April gave the swing a gentle push. Beth shrieked with delight, but April barely heard her, her mind drifting back to a spring evening thirteen years ago. Despite what she had told the girls, this stop was more for their mother’s benefit: April was here to exorcise two ghosts, one of whom was her younger self.
Although her curfew was midnight, she and Kevin had paused here on the walk home from the senior high dance to exchange playful kisses in the shadows of the ancient oak trees.
The equipment and grassy expanse had been deserted; all of the children who earlier had swung and played tag were tucked into bed. Kevin took April’s hand, drew her away from the watchful eye of the street light, and kissed her again, tenderly at first, the demands of his mouth quickly becoming more urgent.
April kissed him back, the music still lilting in her heart.
Suddenly, Kevin’s mouth no longer covered hers; his hands gripped her arms. “I love you, April.”
Caught up in the spell of diamond bright stars sparkling through the leafy branches arching overhead, April stared up at him, bewildered. “Love?”
His fingers touched her lips in a hushing gesture. “I have no right to speak now—to selfishly try to hold you—but you must know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Oh, no!” April breathed the words in dismay; the iridescent bubble of college plans and freedom which hovered on the horizon like the bright new moon burst with an almost audible “pop” in the tranquility of the night.
Kevin’s fervent declaration frightened her. His future was already mapped out: a local college, law school, and then back home to take over his father’s practice.
She tried to erase his words. “It’s too soon to talk of love, Kevin. I’m going away next month and between holding down a part-time job and studying, I probably won’t be able to come home on weekends. When would we see each other?”
“If we love each other, April, we can find ways to keep our relationship alive. Whenever I think of doing without the sound of your laughter, that saucy toss of your head when someone teases you—even the earnest way you lick an ice cream cone, my heart aches and I don’t want to face the future.”
She retreated into the moonlight away from the fervor in his tone, her slippers sliding on the dew dampened grass. “Kevin, you’re confusing me. I’m not ready for a commitment!”
“I can’t keep silent any longer.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s too close to a separation I’m afraid will be final. When I gave you that friendship ring at Christmas, I was a coward for not admitting the ring was really a token of my love.”
April looked down at her hand. The narrow gold ribbon weighed down her finger like an iron band, holding her earthbound when she wanted to soar, fettering her to a life of predictability with a man she knew too well. Kevin was already tied down with responsibility, a hostage to his father’s expectations.
Panicked, she wrenched the ring from her finger and flung it away as if the metal burned her flesh, the ring’s glittering arc immediately swallowed up by the grass and shadows...
“Push me, Mama! Push!” Beth’s imperious demands brought April back from the past and into the fading summer sunshine.
Dropping a kiss on the child’s curls, April set the swing into motion again. “Just a few more minutes.”
Beth wriggled in the seat, warbling a tuneless, baby song, and April glanced over at Annie. Her daughter was clambering up the jungle gym and chattering to another girl. If Annie was dropped by parachute into a foreign country in the morning, she’d have a network of friends established
by dusk, April reflected, grateful for the child’s bubbly personality which would ease the transition into a new school.
A familiar baritone jolted her. “What’ll it be, Joseph? Swings, sandbox, or slide?”
April whirled, Beth’s happy chant fading in her ears. Kevin stood a few feet away, one hand clutching the fingers of a toddler with enormous blue eyes.
Kevin. Kevin and a son who had eyes so like his father’s that April’s heart somersaulted in her chest. Why are you surprised? A voice in her head mocked her. In a town this size, it was only natural that Kevin would bring his child to the park where he himself had played.
“April!” Kevin rushed forward. Crushed against his chest in a hug of genuine warmth that brought tears to her eyes, she heard him exclaim, “Let me look at you!”
He held her at arm’s length. “Hair’s still honey blonde and no man could forget those knockout eyes the rich brown of molasses. A fine wine couldn’t have aged better.”
April bit her lip, tasted blood before responding. “The combination of honey and molasses sounds revoltingly sweet. How are you, Kevin?”
He continued, ignoring the question. “Almost couldn’t believe my ears when a school board member mentioned you’d applied for a teaching position. I thought when you shook the dust of our town from your sandals that we’d never see you again, especially after your parents moved to Florida.”
She listened for a sting behind the words, but heard only ordinary politeness and matched his tone. “I’ve just arrived and the girls are burning off surplus energy before we unpack the car. I guess it’s no coincidence running into you here.”
Kevin grinned. “Weather permitting, as soon as I get home I put on my jeans and we hike over for a little fun together.”
“He’s adorable.” April studied the boy crouched beside the sandbox and now engaged in pouring sand into a tiny pail. Resentment swelled in her breast towards Joseph’s mother, the woman perceptive enough to accept Kevin as the wonderful husband and father he undoubtedly was. I was too young to know what I wanted, she thought.
“Is this your little sweetheart?” Kevin knelt to make Beth’s acquaintance and April decided that a business suit couldn’t look any better on his long legged form than the snug blue jeans.
“That’s Beth.” The little girl giggled when he patted her knee.
“How long have you been married? Any other kids?”
“Annie’s over there, she’s seven.” April pointed towards the jungle gym. “I’m not married anymore.”
The simple sentence couldn’t begin to cover the heartbreak resulting from her husband’s announcement that he was seeking a divorce because he’d fallen in love with his receptionist. Rob’s new bride didn’t want children—at least not Annie and Beth.
So far, Beth seemed for the most part unaware of her father’s desertion, but gallant Annie’s sufferings surfaced in nightmares and midnight bouts of tears. Desperate to provide the security her daughters needed, the only solution which came to April’s mind was a move back to where she had flourished in an atmosphere of love.
Seeking to brush over the awkward pause, April smiled at Joseph. “Is he your first?”
“And only.” Kevin’s mouth tightened before he continued, “His mother died about a year ago in a car accident.”
As he spoke, April saw the flash of pain in his eyes. She felt guilty and confused—embarrassed at having envied a dead woman. Knowing that Kevin was free again added to the tension and she turned to help Beth out of the swing, avoiding his gaze.
Did he think she had come looking for him because her marriage failed? Face burning, she perceived that applying for a job here had been the act of a child seeking to alter the past. Her vehement rejection of Kevin’s love had haunted her, perhaps even contributed to the failure of her own marriage. Subconsciously, she might have unfairly compared Rob to Kevin, seeing in her husband only a shadow of the qualities which made this man so special.
April realized she was staring at the stand of oaks where her younger self had faced a crossroads and taken the wrong turning. Seeking love and fulfillment out in the world, when she’d already held the precious treasure in her hand and chose to throw it away. I didn’t know, she reflected sorrowfully, but my immaturity was no excuse for behaving with such cruelty.
“You probably won’t feel up to making supper tonight and I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker that’s too big for the two of us.” Kevin dusted the sand from the knees of his small son’s overalls. “How about coming over for a hot meal?”
A dark lock of hair curled against his forehead. April remembered the feel of it, silky smooth, and suddenly she couldn’t bear the kindness in his voice. Time’s river had flowed between them, carving a chasm too deep to cross. They must part as strangers, but she had something to say first.
April gripped Beth’s hand tightly for courage. “Remember what happened the last time we were in this park?”
A sigh, wistful as the wind in trees. “I remember.”
“All these years I’ve wanted to tell you...” Her throat closed up with tears and she swallowed hard. “To tell you that I’m sorry.”
He was silent, granting her the dignity to continue. “I couldn’t sleep knowing that I’d hurt you. At 5:30 the next morning, I was back here crawling on my knees in the wet grass looking for the ring. Not finding it, I lacked the courage to apologize and when I think of what might have been—”
“You know, ‘might have been’ are three of the saddest words in the English language.” Kevin stooped and picked up a small object lying on the ground near a picnic table. “But they’re only words. Powerless words. This isn’t gold, but maybe it will do. Hold out your hand.”
She watched as Kevin slipped a cigar band on her finger. “Once love is given, it can’t be lost in the grass, April, or thrown away, but becomes a part of your soul and enriches your life forever.”
His eyes seemed to look back over the vanished years and dismiss them. “Consider this a token of friendship. Now the lost ring is no longer a barrier between us.”
Her gaze dropped to the narrow paper circle. It was light, insubstantial as thistledown on her finger, but she cherished it as a symbol of hope, of new beginnings, more than any golden band. The past was the pat, but with the warmth of his gaze, Kevin was telling her that the wonderful future awaited her—perhaps them.
Beckoning to Annie, April smiled back at Kevin. “I accept your offer of a hot meal. And friendship.”
THE END
Sleeping with Dr. Dee
My personal train of disaster left the station the day Petey borrowed his sister’s toy mop to scrub the bathroom floor. While disagreeing with his method of execution, I appreciated his logic. To a two year old, bothering with a bucket is ridiculous when one has a handy source of water in the toilet.
While he was thus engaged, I dozed, oblivious, with my cheek pillowed on the bills I was supposed to be paying. I’d been up all night with Emily who suffered from both a bad cold and a particularly nasty nightmare. While the children were napping snug in their beds, I mistakenly allowed my own heavy lids to close.
I awoke only when the splashing in the toilet reached the crescendo of a shark feeding frenzy. Not content with flooding the bathroom, Petey had enlisted the aid of his older brother and sister in cleaning the hallway carpeting.
When my husband arrived home, expecting the scents and sight of a sustaining meal, he found his wife clearing the dining room of toys and three children still sulking that their attempt to help Mommy had been so cruelly spurned.
Sighing like a man who’s just learned that the football game has been pre-empted by a televised presidential speech, Alan loosed his tie and pitched in to help. I stiffened at the implied rebuke in that sigh. My day had been as equally exhausting as his and not nearly as well compensated.
“It’s been a long day,” I muttered. “The children tried to help me.”
“Ah.” Alan didn’t say it like someone ab
out to pour the balm of understanding on a wounded spirit. It was more of I’m-tired-of-coming-home-to-a-mess-again type of “ah”, the kind that always sets my lips in a firm line.
After the birth of our youngest, I’d deserted the hectic world of part-time real estate sales for the even more chaotic one of full-time parenting. Days like today made the problem of selling a luxury townhouse situated near an incinerator sound like a pleasant challenge.
Blessing casseroles that come in a box, I whipped dinner into the oven and then onto the table, which Alan had set. Conversation lagged over the uninspired meal like a kid with a pebble in his shoe; the children were sullen and feeling unappreciated and, frankly, so was I.
After the usual struggle, the trio of trouble was bathed, read to, and tucked into bed. Alan and I were stacking dishes in the dishwasher when he finally mumbled, “Tough day, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I said, rinsing the casserole dish. Hoping to prolong our little tete-a-tete, I decided to share an amusing incident that had happened today in the grocery store.
Before I could plunge into my story, however, Alan wiped his hands on a dishtowel and kissed the air in the vicinity of my cheek. “Pre-game starts in ten minutes. Gonna warm up the set.”
I’d rather he warmed up his wife. Slam-dunking a glass, I realized that the bloom was definitely off the marital rose. Alan’s a wonderful father and, when he can be induced to concentrate on me instead of a job, crabgrass, or televised sports, a thoughtful husband and lover. Musing on the urgency of adding spice to our stew of wedded bliss, I crammed the casserole dish into a space only big enough for a cup, added soap, and switched on the dishwasher.
I was wiping down the countertops and trying to come up with a plan to shorten the pro basketball season, when the phone rang.
Estelle’s familiar trill. “Rose, you bad girl! Fancy keeping it a secret! You are too smart for words!”
I made my usual witty response when accused of cleverness. “Huh?”
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