“Have you heard from him?” Gina asked, resolving to be more thoughtful.
“He called earlier this week.”
“And?”
“Nothing. He doesn’t see any need for change in his life. Still wants to run around and act like a single guy, hang out with his buddies from the shop all the time. He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t understand why I’m so angry. Men are dopes.”
Gina was alarmed at the discouragement in Bonnie’s words. It wasn’t like her friend to talk so negatively. Gina wished she had some words of wisdom, but nothing came. Despite her own troubles that weighed on her chest every waking minute of every day, she was astute enough to realize that, because of the kids, Bonnie’s troubles were worse than hers. Both girls were too young and inexperienced to exchange sagacious advice. Mutual sympathy derived from mutual suffering would have to do.
“Did Kevin call you this week?” asked Bonnie.
Gina wondered how it was that Bonnie was back to Kevin, but she felt relieved to switch the subject. Not knowing how to comfort Bonnie just made Gina sadder. “Yes. Last night. But it doesn’t matter. It’s all moot. That’s a legal term, by the way. Michael taught me that.”
“Moot shmoot,” said Bonnie, rolling her eyes. “We’re not talking about Michael. What did Kevin say?”
“He asked me out again but I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. In fact, I told him to quit calling me.”
“Did you tell him why?”
“Sort of. I told him he’s not my type and that I thought it best that we don’t see each other again. I didn’t want to get into details. It would just hurt him needlessly.”
“Well, what did he say?”
“Naturally he wasn’t happy. But I was firm,” she said, smacking a fist into the palm of one hand. “He won’t be coming around anymore.”
Just then Gina happened to glance out the large picture window of the Launderette. A green Volkswagen beetle was in the far lane. She saw it slow to a stop, and the driver, a man whose face she couldn’t make out because of the glare, seemed to be looking in her direction. She stared as the beetle continued down the street but never got a good look at the driver.
Bonnie started talking about David, something about an upcoming meeting with him and what she hoped to accomplish. Gina strived to be attentive, but she couldn’t resist occasionally looking through the picture window. After a few minutes she saw it happen again: a green Volkswagen beetle slowed down while the driver looked toward the window of the Launderette, where her car was parked at the curb. After a few seconds the beetle continued down the street. Again, because of the glare, she couldn’t make out the man’s face.
Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re seeing Kevin where he isn’t just like you see Michael whenever you walk by Heafey Law Library on campus. Michael’s not there. Neither is Kevin. Even if it is a Volkswagen, it’s certainly not Kevin’s Volkswagen. There’s a zillion beetles in the Bay Area. He wouldn’t follow her around Santa Clara on a Saturday morning, would he? No guy is that nervy.
They finished their laundry and drove to Safeway on the Alameda. Now Gina saw green Volkswagen beetles everywhere. She saw one at an intersection while sitting at a red light and another one in the Safeway parking lot. Kevin wasn’t in either of them, which only confirmed that she was, indeed, losing her mind.
“Someone left two sacks of groceries on my stoop last night,” said Gina as she picked through the apples while Bonnie pushed the cart. “I only have to buy fresh fruits and vegetables today because of all the food they left.”
Bonnie’s surprised look was genuine. Gina was certain that Bonnie had not left the groceries.
“Well who?” said Bonnie.
“I don’t know. There was a note but no name. Just a scripture.”
“Then it wasn’t Michael.”
Gina let out a big, defeated sigh. “That’s exactly what I thought. But I still can’t figure out who. Some guy called beforehand to alert me. It wasn’t Kevin. I’m sure of it. I know Kevin’s voice.” She purposely left out the mysterious details of the chilling phone call and the late hour. No use upsetting Bonnie and provoking more dead-body-in-the-Guadalupe-River comments. Some things didn’t need to be said. She also didn’t share this tidbit because it was so bizarre. Who’d believe her? “Besides, it can’t be Kevin. The timing doesn’t line up. I told him just last night I didn’t want to see him anymore—I really blew him off. He won’t be coming around anymore, especially with gifts.”
“Someone from church?”
Bonnie peeled a banana and gave half to Benjamin. She fed tiny bits of the remaining half to Sarah, piece by piece, as they strolled through the store. Sarah kept pulling the sticky bits out of her mouth to study them. Gina tried not to notice the brownish muck that was forming on the cart handle. Bonnie’s kids were cute but gross. It was like this whenever they went out together. Gina averted her eyes.
“I’m not sure,” said Gina. ”I’ve thought of so many people I know but I can’t nail down the voice. The Pieters sisters live on Bellomy, and they know my situation because they come into Big Bick’s all the time and we talk. But I can’t imagine them sneaking around or having some guy call on their behalf. Why sneak?”
“No, that’s not their style. They’d just knock on your door and hand you the bags with a big smile. What about your parents?”
“Not them. They’re always willing to help, though.” Indeed, they’d refused to take her rent check once or twice. “They would never sneak around.” And, Gina thought, they certainly wouldn’t get some young-sounding guy to phone her in the dead of night with a cryptic message like, ‘Open your front door.’ “There’s nothing mysterious about my parents. They’d never do anything that smacked of intrigue.” Of course, randy Rolando lived only a few blocks away, but his name didn’t appear on her list of do-gooders, that was for sure. Gina wasn’t going to bring up that name in conversation with Bonnie or anyone else.
“There’s a whole lot of people at Crossroads. It could be any one of them,” said Bonnie.
“Or people I know through the Bible study at the Menzies. Most of them don’t go to Crossroads.”
Bonnie nodded. “Delivering groceries to hungry co-eds is the kind of thing that sweet, white-haired church ladies do. Like Sister Vredenberg. She’s a sweetie. And she certainly wouldn’t trumpet her good deeds. She would be quiet about it.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t drive.”
The girls exhausted their list of suspects and finished their shopping. Gina would ponder in private the identity of that voice later in the quiet of her apartment. It bothered her that some man knew enough about her to have her phone number, which she rarely gave out, but she didn’t know him well enough to recognize his voice. It made her feel exposed, and she didn’t care to share this feeling, not even with Bonnie. It only made the fact that she had opened the door in the middle of the night after his phone call more outrageous.
The girls splurged on fast food burgers near the university for lunch, just as Bonnie had promised Benjamin. Eating out with two small children was an experience, Gina had learned, that gave dry but humble cereal in her quiet, tidy apartment a kind of halo. Benjamin and Sarah were tired by noon and fussed all through the meal. They dropped food all over their clothes, the table, the booth, and the floor. They knocked things over as they reached for anything and everything on the table. Bonnie didn’t seem to notice the nonstop crying or the smooshed fries and spilled ketchup, but Gina was mortified by the noise and the mess in a public place. Considering the buffet the kids had left under the table, she thought she should leave a big tip for the busboy, but money was too dear for that. She couldn’t wait to leave. She followed Bonnie back to her apartment, helped her get her kids and laundry into the house, and they said their good-byes. Gina, as always, had homework to do.
By four o’clock she’d finished her homework and was flopped all over her flea market couch in the living room, flipping through TV channels for somet
hing to watch. The rabbit ears atop her little black-and-white brought in exactly four channels. Three of those came in clear enough for good viewing. The fourth was just so-so, but all four were featuring sports events, which, to Gina, were only slightly more interesting than her accounting textbook and only because televised sports had young, athletic guys in skimpy clothing running all over the screen. She flipped off the TV. Nothing to watch, homework all done, no date. She hoped she wouldn’t have to spend a second evening with her gruesome friend and his chainsaw. She thought of calling Bonnie, but she felt talked out after their morning together, and the thought of a Saturday night foursome was not a welcome one.
At times like these Gina remembered all the friends she had made in Swig Hall her freshman year. When she lived on the sixth floor with four dozen other girls, there was always someone to go out for pizza with, always someone who knew a guy who has this roommate who has a hot friend, who just happens to be hanging out in the room two doors down. She wondered what had happened to all the girls she had met at Swig.
She was still sprawled on her back on the couch, feet on the wall behind it, pondering her old friends from Swig, when the phone rang on the table next to the couch. Her first thought was that it was her parents, asking her to come to dinner after church on Sunday afternoon. She picked up the receiver and was genuinely shocked to hear Kevin’s voice on the end of the line. Hadn’t she made herself clear enough? But the pleasure she felt in receiving a phone call from someone, anyone, surprised her. She was glad to have someone to talk to, even if it was just Kevin.
But she certainly wasn’t going to let him know that.
“I thought maybe you would change your mind about going out tonight,” he said.
“Now why would I do that?” Might as well play along. She had nothing else to do.
“Because it’s Saturday night, you have nothing to do, and you’re tired of studying. And because I have two tickets to Gilbert and Sullivan, and I don’t want to go alone.”
“I always have something to do on Saturday night.” Even if it involves a mop and a pail. “And I’m sure that at least one of those three hundred other guys on the ship would love to get away from Mare Island and see a show with a friend.”
“Oh they’d love to get away from the ship all right,” said Kevin, “but not with another ugly old salt. It’s a lot more fun to look across the table at a pretty girl, which makes me think of you. So … what are you doing?”
Old salt? Who was she talking to? Popeye? But he had her. The temptation to fib was huge. She paused to think of a suitable response. She was completely unprepared to hear from him again, consequently she had no script. He didn’t wait for her to compose one.
“Come on, go out with me,” he whined. “This isn’t such a big deal.”
She continued to think in silence. Why was she even debating his offer? Why was she so weak since Michael left? Kevin always seemed to call when she was feeling lonely and bored, when she had nothing to do and no one to do it with. But then again, that pretty much described her situation all the time these days. She never used to be like this. She hardly knew herself anymore.
“You know, Gina, it’s not about falling in love. I’m not asking you to marry me. You’re worried about something that hasn’t even happened. I just want to take you to a show.”
“Have you been talking to Bonnie?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing.”
More silence. Then Gina decided to bring out her really big gun. She’d been dancing around the issue too long. She spoke calmly and evenly, partially to give her words more effect, partially to get control of her pounding heart.
“Kevin, I tried telling you before. I’m in love with someone else.” Okay, so Michael hadn’t called in months. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still in love with him.
“Yes, I know. But are you going out with him tonight?”
Sheesh. Some guys just can’t take a hint. “No,” she replied.
“And you’re not married?”
“Kevin, I—”
“You’re not married?” he interrupted.
“Kevin, you know I’m not married.”
“You’re not engaged.”
He said this last line a little too matter-of-factly. How much did he know about her past? She didn’t respond.
“Let’s see. You’re in love with someone else, but he’s not around. You’re not married. You’re not engaged. You have nothing to do tonight. And I have two tickets to a Gilbert and Sullivan show. Sound likes the perfect solution to a boring evening to me. What’s the problem?”
“I never said I had nothing to do tonight!” she said, exasperated. “And there is no problem!” Why do you keep pushing?
“Good. Then why don’t I pick you up in an hour? We’ll get a bite to eat before the show. You’ll love Gilbert and Sullivan,” said Kevin.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m suffering through seventeenth century literature right now, and I have to take Chaucer next year. I haven’t even met him yet and I already hate him.”
“That’s surprising coming from you. You’re an English major.”
“So? Every third word of my required reading is written in Anglo Proto something or other. Old English. Middle English. Whatever. My readings for Spanish class are easier to translate. I get tired of having to read the footnotes every other line just to understand some dumb dated joke about a politician or courtesan who lived three hundred years ago. If you have to explain a joke it isn’t funny. My Shakespeare class was like that too.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Kevin. “First, Gilbert and Sullivan wrote their stuff in the nineteenth century, so it’s not hard to follow. Second, it’s the story of a buccaneer who gets the girl in the end but not before going through all kinds of pain. I would think you’d enjoy that.”
Gina was embarrassed. She should have known in which period Gilbert and Sullivan wrote their librettos. She was the one attending the fancy university, not him. But his dig about the buccaneer didn’t go over her head. She was certain she could hear him smiling through the phone. She had underestimated him.
“If I keep accepting invitations to go out with you, you’ll think I’m serious,” she said.
“If you keep turning me down, that would be very serious.”
“Kevin, I told you I didn’t want to string you along. Why do you keep calling me?” I practically abuse you. Give up already.
“I like your company. And I think you like mine. And I have these tickets. It’s a matter of economics. I can’t let these tickets go to waste. And how could dinner and a show with a friend be a mistake?”
Gina heard a little voice inside her head: Mistake! Mistake!
“Okay, Kevin. Just dinner. Just a show. Just friends. Just this once. Nothing more.”
Without hesitation he agreed. Gina heard the click of his phone hanging up, but only in a distant way, because what really rang in her ears were his words. You’re in love with someone else but he’s not around. You’re not engaged, you’re not engaged, you’re not engaged.
So what was the problem? She hung up the receiver and sank back down into the couch, which wasn’t hard to do since it was more than twenty years old. Time again for one of her frequent sessions of self-analysis, self-flagellation, and self-pity.
Why was she going out with Kevin again? Was she that desperate? She’d never had to ask herself such difficult questions when Michael was around. Life—and love—were so simple then. He loved her, she loved him. Michael and Gina, Gina and Michael. When Michael was in her life she never had to ask herself whether she would or should go out with anyone. Love then was not an all-day, agonizing analysis of what was the best or right thing to do when the phone rang. There was only Michael. With Michael her life course was set, her future secure: law school for her, marriage for both of them, then her first job as a real lawyer, following in his footsteps.
As Gina pondered her beautiful plans—her sparkling
crystal palace where she had planted, watered, and nurtured her dreams with all that she had—she marveled how that house had fallen from its exalted place so suddenly, destroying her future in a moment in an unexpected, violent end. While she longed for the past and mourned the life that would never be, it dawned on her for the first time how deceiving it is to think that one’s future will be a certain way, when the truth is that no one really knows what lies ahead. Her plans for a blissful future with Michael had shattered into fragments in a matter of days. She couldn’t put her crystal palace together again. Would her heart remain forever in little pieces too?
Plan A was shattered forever, and she didn’t have a Plan B. In the past she’d been at the wheel, looking through the windshield in broad daylight, the highway in clear view. Now she was falling headlong into the future, as if she’d tumbled down a dark well. She knew nothing of what life had in store for her now. She had prayed about it, but God wasn’t talking. She still had plans to go to law school, but lately when she thought about studying law she felt empty and depressed. She had this gentle scratching in her soul when her mind drifted to law school. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t as before. Was it because Michael wouldn’t be there to cheer her on? She hoped she had more backbone than that. She had tried and tried to sort out this new, disturbing feeling. She couldn’t clearly separate her feelings about law school from her thoughts of Michael, because for so long they had been bound together. Was it law school itself that seemed grim, or was it law school without Michael that seemed meaningless? She didn’t know, and it bothered her that she couldn’t even figure out her own mind on the matter.
But right now she had a more pressing matter: what to wear tonight. She would have no trouble making up her mind on that score. Kevin was a bit of an oddity with his weird clothes and aggressive ways, but she had determined that, in one important respect, he was totally normal. He liked girls to look like girls. She wasn’t going to disappoint him. She would wear her solid blue, long-sleeve dress with the cinched waist, accented by a rainbow-stripe stretch belt that made her look shapely indeed. It was one of her favorite dresses. The wide belt made her look slender in the waist and the fullness in the bodice hid what was missing on top.
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