Cinnamon Girl

by Lawrence Kessenich

  “I know my own fucking kid, okay, Meyer. Now get the hell out of here and I’ll deal with him.”

  I went up into my room and knocked on the door to Claire’s room.

  “Who is it?” she said.

  “May I come in?” I asked.

  “Not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m too upset.”

  “That’s why I want to be with you.”

  “I want to be alone, John.”

  I hated it when she pulled away from me. The logical part of me understood why she did it, but every time felt like a rehearsal for the day when she would pull away for good.

  “Can’t I just sit with you?”

  “I want to be alone.”

  “I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “No.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No, I just … want to be with you.”

  “Jesus, John, you’re like Jonah at bedtime. Give me some space, will you. If it’s not Tony badgering me, it’s you.”

  I was offended at being lumped in with Tony. It only served to make me feel more insecure, as if she saw us as interchangeable.

  “I’m not Tony, Claire.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I need to be alone. I’ll come and find you when I’m ready to be with you.”

  Reluctantly, I agreed. I sat down on my bed and picked up a book, which I read without comprehending. Minutes later, Tony came up the stairs with Jonah.

  “Mommy?” I heard Jonah say.

  My door was closed. I heard them knock together on Claire’s door.

  “Mommy?” said Jonah.

  “It’s open,” said Claire.

  I heard her door open.

  “Jonah wants to be with you,” said Tony. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “Wait, Tony. When can we talk?”

  “Any fucking time you want, babe.”

  “How about now. We can go out for coffee.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  I heard Tony go up to his room. It was quiet in Claire’s room. Jonah must have found something to occupy himself. I was alternately pleased and terrified about Claire and Tony talking. What if they patched things up and got back together? Where would that leave me? I couldn’t imagine being just friends with them again. Was I about to lose my lover and my home in one fell swoop? My nausea increased and my headache ratcheted up a notch. I considered telling them I wasn’t up to watching Jonah, but that would only postpone their talk. If it had to happen, the sooner the better. I wanted to know where I stood.

  A few minutes later, I heard Tony clomp down the stairs to the first floor. Then Claire knocked on the door between our rooms.

  “John? Can you take Jonah, now?”

  I really didn’t feel up to it. “Yes,” I said.

  She opened the door. She wore jeans and a pink t-shirt. She looked beautiful. Jonah slipped into the room in front of her.

  “John!”

  He threw himself onto the bed—beside me, not on me, fortunately. I ruffled his hair.

  “Hey, big guy! You going to stay with me for a while?”

  “I think we’ll go to the Downer Cafe,” said Claire. “I don’t know how long we’ll be. You look a little pale. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “I’ll be okay. You guys need to talk, so talk.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  She leaned over the bed and kissed me. If there was anything that would cure what ailed me, it was that.

  “Kiss!” cried Jonah.

  “Here’s one for you, too, buddy,” she said, but Jonah squirmed away and slid onto the floor.

  “No kiss!” he cried.

  “Okay. I’ll see you later, honey.”

  She started to leave the room. Jonah got up.

  “Mommy? Go?”

  “I have to, sweetheart. Daddy and I need to talk.”

  “Daddy? Go?”

  “John will be here with you. See you later.”

  Jonah followed her out the door and started down the stairs after her. I got out of bed and followed him. Tony was in the living room reading a magazine. Claire was getting a jacket out of the closet, because the weather had turned cooler again during the night. Tony wore only his black t-shirt and jeans. Jonah went to Claire and attached himself to her leg.

  “Let go, now, Jonah,” said Claire. “Mommy and Daddy need to go. We’ll see you later.”

  Jonah didn’t say anything, he just clung to Claire like a baby koala holding onto its mother’s fur.

  “Okay, Tony,” said Claire.

  Tony closed his magazine and tossed onto the floor.

  “Can you peel him off?” Claire asked me.

  I managed to free her, but it wasn’t easy. Jonah screamed and cried as Claire and Tony went out the door. I took him to the window to watch them go, though I wasn’t certain it was the best strategy. It worked. He became so engrossed in watching them get into the car and back out and drive off that he seemed to forget what he was crying about. Then it was just Jonah and me, as it had been many times before, and he seemed comfortable with it.

  I ate breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen, then took a bath with Jonah. The big tub gave us lots of room to play with boats and plastic figures and a big, floating bar of Ivory soap. The phone rang while we were in the tub, but I couldn’t leave Jonah, so I just let it ring. The caller was obnoxiously persistent, but finally gave up. Just after we’d gotten out and I’d toweled Jonah dry, the phone started ringing again. I wrapped a towel around my middle and went down to get it. It was Tony’s father, asking if Tony was there. When I told him he was out with Claire, he asked me— more like ordered me—to have him call the minute he got home. This was not like Mr. Russo, who was usually a laid-back kind of guy.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Russo?” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No,” he replied, his voice suddenly going dead, “there’s nothing anybody can do. Just have him call me.”

  I wondered if something was wrong with Tony’s mother.

  Claire and Tony didn’t return until after lunch. They didn’t look happy exactly, but they looked a lot more peaceful than they had when they’d left. I told Tony about his Dad’s call, so he called back right away. I started washing my lunch dishes while Claire looked in the refrigerator for something to eat.

  “Hi, Dad,” said Tony. “What’s up? No, I’m not sitting down. What’s wrong?”

  Claire and I both turned to look at him. His face seemed to fall as he listened.

  “Oh, shit. He’s not going to die, is he?”

  Claire and I looked at one another.

  “How long do they think he’ll be there?”

  “How’s Mom taking it?”

  “You can’t go over there. She’d freak out. I’ll go.”

  “Fuck the union. This is my brother we’re talking about.”

  So that was it. His brother Joe must have been wounded in Vietnam. Claire and I looked at one another again. This time there was guilt in our eyes.

  Tony and his dad continued to talk for some time, trying to work out who would go to see Joe. After his dad had hung up, Tony stood there with the receiver to his ear, as if the dial tone that followed might give him more information. Claire finally went to him, took the receiver from his hand and hung it up. Jonah came into the room.

  “Daddy?” he said.

  Tony didn’t hear him. Jonah seemed to pick up his father’s state of mind immediately and said no more. He stood watching Tony.

  Tony started to speak, but his throat was thick with emotion. He cleared it. “It’s Joe. He’s been wounded by shrapnel. He might lose his legs.”

  “Jesus,” said Claire.

  “They’re taking him to an Army hospital in Guam, or maybe Hawaii. I’m going to g
o see him.”

  “What about—” Claire began, then caught herself.

  I guessed she was about to ask about Tony’s job, but then thought better of it. Tony didn’t even hear her.

  “When will you go?” she asked.

  “Huh?” said Tony.

  She repeated the question.

  “As soon as I can. They’re operating today.”

  Jonah went to Tony and put his arms around his leg. Tony reached down, half-consciously it seemed, and picked him up. Jonah nestled his head on his father’s shoulder and started sucking his thumb.

  “I’m going for a walk,” said Tony. “I’ll take Jonah along.”

  He left the kitchen and walked slowly down the hall and out the front door. Claire and I looked at one another. Neither of us seemed to know what to say.

  “This is why I got involved in the strike,” I finally said. “This shit has got to stop.”

  “I know,” said Claire. “Poor Tony. Joe was like a god to him when he was growing up. Joe was always bigger and stronger and better at every sport. But he was a nice guy, too, most of the time. He didn’t lord it over Tony, the way a lot of big brothers would’ve. If Joe really loses his legs … I don’t know what Tony will do.”

  “Maybe he’ll get a chance to pay his brother back for being such a nice guy.”

  “I know he’ll do that. I think he’d sooner divorce me than let Joe down.”

  “Claire!”

  “Okay, okay, so I’m being cynical.”

  “I’m surprised. You two looked more peaceful than you’ve looked in a long time when you got back. I thought maybe you’d …”

  “Kissed and made up? Hardly. We just clarified how far apart we are right now. I told him how I felt about you; he told me about Alicia—not that it was a surprise after I saw them together in the Union the other day.”

  “What did you tell him about me?”

  “You know how I feel about you, John. Confused. That’s what I told him.”

  “You didn’t even mention that you might be in love with me?”

  “Not in so many words. But he got the point. He knows how much I care for you. He’s known that for a long time. It’s just the sexual part that’s new.”

  “So, what’s going to happen?”

  “Neither of us knows. We’re going to go on just the way we’ve been, staying out of one another’s business. Now it feels more like a real separation.”

  “Even though you’re still in the same house.”

  “Even though we’re still in the same house. Attitude has as much to do with it as anything. The break feels cleaner, now that everything is out in the open.”

  “Good. May I hold you, now?”

  “I’d like that.”

  I went to her and took her in my arms. It seemed as if she held me less tentatively, but perhaps that was wishful thinking on my part. I was relieved we had no need to hide anything anymore. Not that we’d be making out in front of Tony, but at least we didn’t have to pretend we weren’t lovers. I felt guilty for being so happy, what with Tony’s awful news, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know Tony’s brother, but I knew Claire, and I knew I loved her. I kissed her and she kissed me back unhesitatingly. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of near-death that made our bodies seem especially important at that moment. I pressed her against the wall with my whole body. She seemed to open to me. It would have been so easy to make love to her right then, right there. But she stopped us.

  “We can’t, John. I want to, but we can’t. They could be back any second. Tony can’t find us like this, now. I need to be there for him.”

  I felt helpless as jealousy overtook me. I wanted her and nothing else seemed important. I wanted Tony out of the way, so I could be with her. I fought back my selfish instincts and brought myself under control.

  “I know,” I said. “I love you, Claire.”

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  She kissed me deeply one more time, then gently but firmly pushed me away.

  12

  WITHIN A WEEK, TONY WAS on his way to Guam. His brother Joe had come through the surgery without losing his legs, but the doctors didn’t know if he’d ever be able to walk again. A lot depended on how he healed and how hard he worked to rehabilitate himself. Tony was sure that, with encouragement, Joe, who’d been a star athlete in high school, would rally and get the use of his legs back.

  Before Tony left, Claire had tried to get him to talk about what he was feeling, but he’d rejected her overtures. He claimed, as he so often did with emotional issues, that it was something he needed to deal with on his own. To my somewhat guilty pleasure, this pushed Claire into my arms. She was upset by what had happened to Joe, too, and needed someone to comfort her. We began sleeping together every night.

  Tony was gone for two weeks, and I will always remember them as two of the happiest weeks of my life. Claire and I were able to live together as if we were husband and wife. I was able to pretend Jonah was my own child. It wasn’t that we did anything special; it was just the fact that we could be together—eating, walking to the park, watching TV—without inhibition. With Tony gone and Jonathan apparently hiding out elsewhere, the house belonged to the three of us. It became our family home. Perhaps I should have felt guilty about play-acting with another man’s family, but I didn’t. I was too much in love with Claire and Jonah. I didn’t want to spoil a moment of it by thinking too hard about the reality of the situation.

  Tony never called or wrote, but we had occasional reports about Joe from Tony’s father. He tried to sound upbeat whenever he talked to Claire, but she sensed all was not well. He was always positive about his son’s physical progress, but he kept mentioning that Joe was “a little funny in the head” from the wound and the surgery. Reading between the lines, Claire took this to mean Joe was depressed and unable to cope with what had happened to him. Mr. Russo kept saying hopefully that Tony’s presence would help Joe.

  It turned out that no one and nothing could help Joe at that point. Tony returned bitter and depressed because of his inability to raise his brother’s spirits. Instead, Joe had brought him down. Tony found himself angry about the war, angry about his job, angry about his relationship with Claire. The only good thing that happened was Joe had been transferred from Guam to Hawaii while Tony was visiting him, and Tony had fallen in love with the islands. He talked about getting away from Wisconsin, from the whole crazy mainland, to a place where the weather was nicer and the pace of life slower. Alternately, he talked about getting more politically involved, helping to bring down the government that had gotten his brother involved in a stupid, meaningless war. Visits from Kolvacik and Jonathan tipped the scales.

  On Sunday morning, a week after Tony’s return, we were all sitting at breakfast when we heard the front door open. We expected it to be Kolvacik, who’d been on vacation in Northern Wisconsin. But it was Jonathan. He stood in the kitchen doorway, no longer wearing his Karl Marx t-shirt, I noticed, just a plain, white one.

  “I’m back,” he said. “I’ll be upstairs if anybody calls me.”

  “Wait,” I protested. “Where the hell have you been? What happened to your little plot?”

  He looked down at the floor, then around the table at each of us. He seemed more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.

  “The FBI planted a spy. He blew the whistle on the big shots, but the rest of us apparently didn’t count. At least, they didn’t haul us in this time.”

  “You done with trying to bring down the government, now?” asked Tony in a challenging tone I’d never heard from him before.

  “No,” said Jonathan. “I just need to lay low for a while. I won’t do anybody any good in prison. I’m going to my room.”

  Not ten minutes after Jonathan went upstairs, Kolvacik appeared, but hardly in the state we expected. He banged on the front door glass so hard it sounded as if it was going to break. We all leapt up and went into the hall to see what was going on, leaving Jonah in his high
chair. We saw Kolvacik’s hairy face framed in the door window. He lifted his arm to reveal a bottle of Boone’s Farm Apple Wine. But he didn’t smile. In fact, he looked about as serious as I’d ever seen him. I went to the door and opened it.

  “Hey, bro,” he said. “The world sucks and everything’s fucked. ’Scuse my shitty near rhyme. I’m drunk.”

  He wavered where he stood.

  “Come on in,” I said.

  “Oooookay,” he replied.

  He took a few halting steps, managing to stay upright until he was in far enough for me to close the door behind him.

  “What’s up, Tim?” said Claire.

  “Not me, that’s for sure,” he replied. “Tony! How is that brother of yours? Did they patch him up?”

  “He’ll be okay,” said Tony. “How about you?”

  “Me? Fine. It’s my old buddy Mickey who’s not so good. No, not so good. Dead is what he is. Fucking dead.”

  “Mickey?” said Tony. “Dead?”

  “As the proverbial fucking doornail,” said Kolvacik.

  He took a long drink from the wine bottle, then dropped the arm that held it to his side and stood staring straight ahead, past Tony and Claire.

  “I’m so sorry, Tim,” said Claire.

  “Mommy?” Jonah called from the kitchen. “Cer’yl?”

  “Just a minute, honey,” she called.

  “Go ahead and feed him,” said Kolvacik. “What was it old Jesus said? ‘Let the dead bury the dead.’ I’ll be okay.”

  Reluctantly, Claire went to tend to Jonah. “How did it happen?” I asked.

  Kolvacik looked back at me as if he’d forgotten I was there and was surprised to hear a voice from that direction.

  “Land mine. One stupid land mine. An American one at that. Ain’t that a killer?”

  Tony and I nodded gravely.

  “Kablooeey!” Kolvacik cried out.

  Tony and I both jumped.

  “Hamburger. My best friend. Fuck it all. Fuck the whole goddamn war and the whole goddamn government.”

  Claire rejoined us. “Do you want to sit down, Tim,” she said solicitously.

  “Actually, I want to lie down. Lie down and die. I loved that bastard.”

  His voice caught as he spoke and his eyes filled with tears. Claire took him by the arm and led him to the couch. She sat him down beside her, took the bottle from his hand, and set it on the coffee table. He just sat there, catatonic. She put her arms around him and guided his head onto her shoulder. He took a deep breath and exhaled, as if he’d finally found peace, then he erupted in sobs that seemed to be wrenched from his chest. Tony and I stood there helplessly. Tony looked especially uncomfortable.