by Paddy Eger
Marta hesitated. How did she feel about being home. Did it matter? "Home's okay; I'm fine."
“It doesn't sound like you're fine. Is something bothering you? You know I want to be with you when things settle down, if you still care about me.” He paused. "Do you, Marta?"
She hesitated again, thinking about her conversation with Dennis after the teen play. “I’ll always care about you, Steve. I dream about you and I wonder what you’re doing. It makes me feel content.”
He laughed. “Good. I tell you what I’m thinking, but I’m never sure about what’s going on in that head of yours. I hate having these miles between us. Right now I need to get back to work. I wish the textbooks provided as much enjoyment as shadowing reporters did last spring. I miss you, Miss Fluff.”
“Miss you too.” The words caught in her throat. She did miss him and the way he brought happiness into her days. “Who could I tease about ballet being fluff news if I didn’t have you?”
He laughed. “I know. I’ve apologized so many times, and I’ll probably need to apologize for years to come. Love you. I’ll call again soon.”
Marta pictured his face watching hers, looking for clues into her thinking, smiling as he did whenever they reminisced about meeting. She’d always treasure that moment, the stunned expression on his face when she confronted him about calling ballet fluff. “I’ll expect you to remember that day, but maybe I can find a new way to torment you. I’ll work on that. Guess I’d better go. I miss you.”
When Steve hung up, Marta stood listening to the dial tone. What was going on in her head? She loved talking and joking with Steve, but what did it mean when visions of Dennis kept popping up?
As the afternoon light polarized, turning the grape leaves a brilliant green, Marta stepped into the backyard to sit and think. She plopped into one of the Adirondack chairs her dad made. She slid her hands along the smooth arms remembering the year she’d helped him sand and paint them. “These are my gifts to the yard,” he’d said. “They’ll probably outlast me.” He didn’t realize the truth in those words; he died six months after he finished them.
How did her mom know when she fell in love with her dad? Did she ever doubt that he was “the one,” the person she’d spend her life with? And if she felt that way, how could she now consider loving Robert?
Just then Marta’s mom drove into the garage, closed the large door, and joined her in the backyard. She collapsed in the chair next to Marta. “What a day! I should know better than to let Robert volunteer me for the shipyard’s back-to-school party. Lots of fun, but I’m so tired I could stay right here all night.”
Marta pushed herself out of her lawn chair. “Stay and relax. It’s nice tonight. I’ll bring out dinner.” As she assembled dinner she continued to wonder about Robert. Her mom obviously enjoyed his company. Did her heart race when she held his hand? Did she have a sinking feeling when they kissed? Were her feelings the same as they’d been with her dad?
After they ate their chef’s salads and discussed the dance studio and the vegetable garden, Marta took the opportunity to shift their conversation. “You really like Robert, don’t you, Mom?”
“I do. He’s a good man; he makes me laugh. We’re planning a short getaway to Kalaloch Lodge next weekend. I want to drive to the ocean before autumn sets in.”
“Good. You need a getaway. Kalaloch would be my choice too. Wish Lynne had come out. I wanted to share the beach with her, but I think she’s finally found a special guy.”
“Really? Lynne? Hm-m. Speaking of someone special, have you heard from Steve lately?”
Marta shrugged. “He called today. Still busy with school. He’s swamped with class work and looking for a job.”
He mom’s face registered a question before she spoke. “You don’t act excited like you use to when you talk about him.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”
“Distance makes a relationship harder, honey. Your dad and I never had to worry about that.”
“So you always knew he was the one you wanted to marry?”
“I did. For us it was love at first sight. He was kind, thoughtful, funny, and romantic.”
Marta saw her mother’s face soften as she spoke. “So, did that happen with Robert too?”
“Our relationship started as friends; our love grew over time. True, it’s a different kind of love than I had with your father, but it’s still love.”
Marta nodded as she collected their dinner dishes.
“Give yourself time, honey. You’ll figure out how you feel. Right now I have news that I hope will excite you. Lindsay just learned that the moving company is leaving from the upstairs space. She plans to rent the rest of the building. When she adds more classes, you could become a full time instructor, if you’re interested.”
“Did you tell her I’d be interested?”
“No, honey. That’s up to you. I think it would be wonderful, but that’s me being selfish. I enjoy having you here and seeing you at the studio.”
“I enjoy both places. Dancing at Miss Holland’s, I mean Lindsay’s, studio speeds up my recovery. Maybe I’ll talk with her about adding more classes.”
“Great! Lindsay will be thrilled.” Her mom stood and stretched. “Thanks for dinner. Think I’ll water the front yard before I head in.”
Marta washed their dinner dishes and set the nook for breakfast. When her mom came in, she carried a flat package that she handed to Marta. “I found this by the front door. Hope it’s fun mail.”
The package’s return address confirmed it was from Lynne. She’d sent a dozen notes and pictures from the four little girls they’d taught in the spring. Each brought an ache of sadness and a smile to Marta. She missed seeing Tracy, Brenda, Carmen, and Lucy. They started third grade this fall. She wondered how much longer they’d remember her.
Lynne’s attached note promised to keep Marta’s lightened mood intact.
Dear Marta,
The girls and I began lessons last week in your old basement space, much to Carol’s dismay. When she started complaining about how noisy we were, I told her to get a life. She huffed away just like she did when you used the space.
Turns out Mr. Right was Mr. Oh-So-Wrong. The handsome liar’s a married man with two kids. Oh well. I’m too busy working on becoming a soloist anyway.
Mrs. B. sends you her best. As do I.
Lynne
Marta pressed the letter to her chest. She needed to surprise Lynne and write back to her before Lynne had time to call.
That next Monday she found a postcard with a talking fish on the front. The bubbles around the fish read, “Cut out fishing around for a compliment. I think you’re special just the way you are.”
On the back she wrote in tiny script:
Tell those sweet girls thank you. I love each drawing they made. I want them to give you huge hugs from me to replace Mr. Wrong’s. (Sorry he was a jerk.) I’d hoped to see you before fall training, but now it looks like Christmas before we’ll get face to face.
Marta
h
Marta’s life settled into a repeating pattern similar to her recovery time in Billings: exercise, work, bake, sleep, and begin again. It made it easy to move along without thinking too much about Steve or Dennis. But soon she’d be back helping Dennis with sets for the next play. The thought of seeing him excited and frightened her, leaving their relationship in an awkward place.
In mid-September the phone rang, startling her as she played another game of solitaire.
“Marta? This is Dennis. How are you?”
A flush hurried through her. “I’m okay.” She brushed back her hair and felt her lips curve into a smile.
“I have good news and bad. The next play is Our Town. It has no sets, but Hal has given us the chore of rounding up furniture for the stage. Are you interested in he
lping me find what we need?”
“Sure.” She paced to the window and back, pulling the phone cord taut. “When do we need to get started?”
“I thought we could do it Saturday. I have one source of ‘30s furniture, but if you have ideas, bring them along. I’ll pick you up at ten.”
Saturday morning Marta put on her best capris and a summer top. She brushed her hair, put on makeup, and stood watching out the kitchen window for Dennis to drive up. Her thoughts jumped from Dennis to Steve and back to Dennis. Was this a good idea? She paced the living room, then stopped in front of the mirror. She surveyed her outfit, raced to her bedroom, and changed clothes. Back in front of the mirror, she turned her head side to side; a skirt looked best. She removed the necklace and bracelet from Steve and put them in her pocket.
Dennis arrived in an old open-backed truck. The sunshine and the warm day lent itself to wandering on their way to Brownsville to meet his contact. They stopped to explore Illahee State Park’s forest trails, then descended to walk along its beach. The sun glistened on Agate Pass.
Marta pointed across the waterway. “My family used to take the little ferry from Bremerton to that dock on Bainbridge to visit my aunt and uncle’s home. I always remember the day after my birthday when I wore my new Mickey Mouse watch. I let my cousin wear it and between the two of us we over wound it and the stem fell out in the tall grass. That ended my watch.”
Dennis chuckled. “Bet your parents were upset with you. Mine would have tanned my backside.”
“Actually, they didn’t say a word. That was worse than having them get mad. I can still see them shaking their heads.”
They walked in silence until they’d reached the end of the fishing pier. As they turned back, Dennis spoke. “I’m glad you decided to come with me. This is my first break since the teen play. With so much carpentry work lately, I’ll be able to afford a new truck before too long.” He reached for Marta’s hand and held it firmly as they walked backup the trail. “So, how’s Mr. Sorta?”
“He’s fine.”
“Too bad.” He grinned and slid his calloused thumb slowly across her fingers.
Marta felt heat travel up her arm. He didn’t release her hand until they returned to his truck and he opened the door for her to climb inside. She looked away from him, hiding her reaction to his touch until they’d driven out of the park.
At Brownsville the owner of the small furniture shop loaded up two dressers, a floor lamp in need of rewiring, and several framed paintings perfect for Our Town’s sparse set. As they pulled back onto Wheaton Way, Dennis turned to Marta. “Are you hungry? Want to grab a burger at the Bay Bowl? We could stay and bowl a few lines if you have the time?”
“A bowing alley with burgers? Sounds good.”
With the burgers finished off, they sat side by side and talked instead of bowling. Dennis asked about her dance career and how her recovery progressed.
“I feel like I’m making headway. Working on the plays takes my mind off myself. I’ve enjoyed learning about making sets.”
Dennis studied her face and twisted his mouth to one side. “When you got all bothered that first time about the kind of nails I wanted, I almost laughed. You looked cute and so irritated with me.” He paused and smiled. “I wanted to kiss you and see how you’d react.”
Marta shook her head. “I’d have probably slapped you and left.”
“And now?” He stared at her with one raised eyebrow.
Marta turned away. “We’d better get going.”
All the way home, she said nothing. She felt Dennis watching her, but she remained silent, focusing on her hands, then the scenery, then her hands again to avoid his gaze.
As they stopped at her mom’s, he turned off the engine and shifted to face her. “You’re certainly quiet. Have I upset you?”
“No,” she said. “You surprised me that’s all. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll let me take you out on a date.” Dennis circled the truck to open the passenger door for her. He held her hand as he walked her through the back gate and to the base of the kitchen steps. “I’ll call you later in the week. Right now I’m going to kiss you.” He planted a lingering kiss on her cheek.
Marta felt his breath as he pulled back and smiled. She stared up at him, feeling her body react to his closeness and the touch of his lips on her skin. “Um...Thanks for the nice day.”
Dennis ran his hand down her cheek. “Totally my pleasure.”
She waved and watched him get back into his truck. As she turned toward the back steps, she noticed someone walking toward her from the front yard.
She reached for the back step railing as her knees weakened. Steve stood a few short steps away.
7
Steve watched the truck as it drove away. When he turned back to face her, his eyebrows were furrowed and he'd crossed his arms.
Marta froze in place, waiting for him to step closer or speak. He did neither. She swallowed hard. "I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Obviously." He walked to within reach, close enough for her to see the sadness in his blue eyes.
"I can explain, Steve. It's not what it looked like."
"Okay," he said. "Explain away."
Marta told him about the play and the furnishings they needed and about stopping for burgers.
"Plausible so far. What about the kissing?"
Marta gulped down her nervousness and reached for her necklace, the one he'd given her as a sign of their commitment. She wasn't wearing it. Steve's eyes followed her hand and she quickly lowered it. "That was my fault, Steve. He's a nice guy. He reminds me of you. I've worked with him for several months. We tease each other and he kissed me. It just happened." Marta looked away. "I know I shouldn't have let him, but I was flattered that he wanted to. It didn't mean anything."
"Really? That's hard to believe, Marta. If it meant nothing, why were you holding hands as you came in the back gate? I love you, Marta. I thought you loved me."
"I do, Steve, and I've missed you. I…I'm sorry." She watched his face through her blur of tears. Each second moved as slow as an hour. She pulled in her lips, pressing them together to keep from blurting out something, anything, to fill the continuing silence. She longed to hear him say he'd forgiven her, that everything was going to be all right.
But Steve didn't invite her to step into his arms as he'd done back in Billings when they had disagreements. He stood motionless, looking across the yard, breathing slowly, not speaking. Finally, when he looked toward her, she saw the damage she'd created.
"I think I should leave," he said, "before either of us says something we might regret." He studied her face as he backed away from her.
Marta followed him, reaching for his hand, but he moved away from her grasp. "Not now, Marta. We both need time to figure things out."
She nodded and stepped back as he opened the gate.
Marta watched him walk toward downtown without a single glance in her direction. When he'd disappeared from view, she closed the gate and sat on the kitchen steps. She stared at the space around her, hoping to feel his presence. A tightness lingered in her chest as she replayed the last moments over and over, wishing it had been a bad dream. It hadn't been.
h
Rocking and pacing through the remainder of the evening didn't release her or stop her from reliving the disappointment on Steve's face. All night when she tried to sleep, images of Steve hovered over her. Much as she tried to picture the way his hair flopped over one eye and the happiness that had always flowed around and through him, the images dissolved, causing her to relive seeing his sad face and the hurt gathered behind his usually bright blue eyes. How could she have forgotten the intensity of his touch? The comfort of his arms wrapped around her? The steady beat of his heart when he held her close?
She pictured his arms open wide, invit
ing her to step closer, but as she moved forward, his presence turned to fog and disappeared. She startled herself awake and lay in bed crying in the darkness.
As dawn arrived, she realized she had no idea why Steve had shown up at her doorstep. Did he have an interview, get a job, come on a whim? Yesterday's drive with Dennis got out of hand. She should have avoided him like her instinct suggested. Did she want his attention and his kisses more than she wanted Steve's? What would have happened if she hadn't come back in time to see Steve? Would she feel the same ache of emptiness she felt now, or would missing his visit have been easier? Her tears and confusion returned and replayed over and over and over, becoming as entangled as her bed covers.
All morning Marta paced, rocked and watched the clock, imagining what Steve might be doing. Surely his coming all this way for whatever reason proved he loved her, didn't it? His visit sent her onto a roller coaster of confusion. She owed it to him to figure out what she wanted from their relationship and to tell him how she felt. If he was “the one,” she needed to stop spending time with Dennis and extinguish the embers of interest she experienced in his company.
After her restless night, Marta felt exhausted as she entered the studio to help paint the upstairs rooms. The previous tenant had left behind scarred walls and scuffed stairs along with her rental cleaning deposit. Lindsay’s coaxing resulted in the owner agreeing to allow them to paint and install wall-sized mirrors and barres for warm-ups.
Lindsay stood in the entry beside gallon cans of paint, paint rollers, and brushes. “Thanks for giving up your Sunday afternoon, Marta. Not the best way to spend this lovely day, but I’m so glad to get this space painted. The owner’s allowing my plumber to finish the roughed-in bathroom, and I’m asking to add a storage room and a small office space next.”
Marta plastered a stage smile on her face as she opened a can of light green paint. “The owner is getting a great deal by us fixing up his building. It’s not costing him a penny. If he’s smart, he’ll let you make lots of improvements.”
“He did make me promise to not build any permanent walls, but you’re right. He’s getting a lot of benefits, but so are we.” Lindsay smiled as she handed a paint brush to Marta. “I’m thinking the upstairs should be your space. How does that sound?”