by T. Torrest
CHAPTER 32
Through the Long Night
EDDIE
Tuesday, February 28
1978
“Jesus! I’m freezing!”
Brenda shivered under the blankets, snuggling up against my side in order to try and steal some body heat. I put my arm around her and settled us into the undulating waves of our mattress. Normally, there was a heater option that made it seem as though we were floating on a raft in a tropical ocean. But because our electric had been turned off earlier in the afternoon, our waterbed was acting as more of an unofficial initiation into the Polar Bear Club.
I smoothed a hand across her flat stomach and dipped my face next to her ear. “I know a way we can get warmed up.”
She nudged my head away. “No Eddie! I’m angry right now.”
“Why are you angry?” I asked, furrowing my brows.
“Because I’m wide awake at midnight in this horrible apartment freezing my butt off! How could you forget to pay the electric?”
Truth was, I didn’t forget. The money just wasn’t there to cover it yet, and I thought I had another few days to try and talk my way around the shutoff date. Even still, I’m sure PSE&G knew as well as I did that the money wasn’t going to magically appear even if they gave us an extra week.
I felt sick looking at my poor, freezing wife. She deserved better than this. She deserved better than me. I gave her a friendly shove before whipping off the covers. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
Brenda screeched from the new blast of cold hitting her skin but she followed my lead and put on a second layer of clothes before we made a break for the ‘Stang. It took three tries to get the engine going but finally the old hunk of junk turned over, and I blasted the heat as we drove the few miles to Tony and Ginny’s.
As expected, the lights were still on in their living room window. Tony and I had just closed up shop at the restaurant an hour before, and it always took a while to wind down from the night. Anyone who’s ever had a job in the food industry can testify to the natural high a person gets working a late shift. You’d think we’d be ready to crash at the end of a long night. Truth was, that’s when we’d more often than not start the party, grab a few drinks, and not be able to turn in until closer to dawn.
At a more decent hour, we’d just let ourselves in. But seeing as it was after midnight, we knocked on the front door instead. The curtains split as Tony peeked out the window to see what sort of maniacs would be paying a visit at one in the morning. When he saw it was us, he opened the door and just shook his head.
I smiled, rubbing my hand along the length of Brenda’s arm in an attempt to warm her up. “Hi, Mr. Leone. Can Tony come out to play?”
Tony opened the door wide as his smile grew even wider. “Lemme guess. No heat in the apartment?”
“Anthony, you’re psychic!” Brenda shot back as we made our way into the house. Truth was, this wasn’t the first time we’d needed a warm place to crash.
He called up the stairs for Ginny, who immediately put the coffee on as Tony dealt the cards on the living room table.
Hours later, my wife and I were cozied up in our friends’ guest bedroom, toasty warm and highly caffeinated. I smiled contentedly, thinking about how we’d managed to turn a frustrating night into a fun one. My complaints were none and my gratitude was plentiful. It was far from a dream life but it was our life. I had a good job and a warm place to sleep, even if the bed wasn’t my own. I had two of the best friends a guy could ask for and a beautiful wife who was madly in love with me. I didn’t need anything more than that.
Even though I was experiencing this big, significant moment, I didn’t know if Brenda was as okay with the recent turn of events. I figured I’d better check. “Are you warm?”
I tightened an arm around her as she curled in closer against my side and rested her head on my shoulder. “Yes.”
“Are you tired?”
Bren shot a wicked grin at me as her hand slid down the front of my flannel pants.
“Not at all.”
CHAPTER 33
Honesty
BRENDA
Tuesday, April 24
1984
“Oh, Virginia, she’s beautiful!”
I looked at the perfect pink baby in my best friend’s arms and couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Ginny was actually a mother. And her little girl was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen in my life.
I’d been in Ginny’s hospital room for a solid half-hour before the nurses brought the baby in for a visit. Anthony had to tend to some issue at the restaurant, so I was granted with the task of keeping an eye on his wife while he was gone. Protocol didn’t normally allow for anyone other than the baby’s father to hang around a new mommy’s hospital room, but because Virginia had experienced a rougher time than most, Anthony insisted someone watch over his wife at all times. The nurses were all too happy to allow that someone to be anyone other than themselves.
Most women would look like haggard, frazzled nightmares after a twenty-six-hour labor but Virginia wasn’t most women. She was already wearing her own nightgown (“As if I’d receive guests in that hospital rag!”) and her auburn hair had been dry-shampooed and coiffed to perfection (“I brought an extension cord for my curling iron!”). She looked, as usual, extremely well put-together. Her new-mommy glow only added to her loveliness.
“And you look terrific, Gin. You look really, really happy.”
Virginia offered a beatific smile that would give the BVM a run for her money. “I am.” We both got lost in a daze for a moment as we stared at the tiny new human in the room, until finally, Ginny broke the silence with a question. “Would you like to hold her?”
I was nervous about it—I’d never held a baby that new before—but there was no way I was going to turn down the opportunity. I awkwardly-yet-carefully relieved Virginia’s arms of their little burden and immediately sat down in the side chair for extra safety. The baby was soft and warm against my body, and I couldn’t help lowering my face to kiss her on her tiny forehead. She smelled divine.
By the time I looked up at Ginny, we were both crying for more reasons than one.
“Gin. I already love her so much! How is that possible? I hardly know her!”
“I know. Me too. I knew you’d love her almost as much as me.” Her smiled turned downward as she added, “I just wish… I don’t know.”
I did know. We’d already discussed how horrible she felt about asking her sister Diana to be her firstborn’s Godmother instead of me. Because my ex-husband was Anthony’s only option as Godfather, they were forced to bypass me as a choice for Godmother. It would’ve just been way too awkward.
“It’s okay, Gin. I already told you it’s okay.”
“I just never thought I’d have to choose a different Godmother for my baby! I always thought you and Eddie…”
“I know, Ginny. But I’ll love her just as much without the title, I promise. You know you had to pick Eddie for this one. I can wait for the next baby. Lord knows you’re going to have about twenty more!”
We laughed for a moment until Virginia sighed and cocked her head, her voice soft and sad as she asked, “Am I ever going to get used to the two of you being apart?”
Probably not. I knew on some days, I still had trouble believing it. “Well, it’s been four years,” I offered in defense of my husband.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re happy with Beau.”
“Happiness is relative. I’m… okay.” I must have been distracted by the baby in my arms because I didn’t even realize I’d said that until it slipped out of my mouth. It was the first time I’d ever let on that things weren’t great between Beau and me, and I’d have to remind myself to choose my words more carefully from then on out.
To change the subject, I brought our attention back to the tiny infant in my arms. “Look at your daughter. She’s so beautiful and perfect.”
Virginia’s scrutinizing eyes turned jubila
nt at my altered topic. “Do you think you’ll ever get one of these for yourself?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’d be a horrible mother.”
I was of the mindset that parenting instincts were hereditary, and my mother and father were hardly the best pools from which to cull genetic material. There was no way I’d ever take the risk of testing that theory. Though, I suppose they were able to love my brother enough to make him the center of their universe. Maybe their love wore out by the time they got around to having me.
I couldn’t imagine being saddled with the responsibility of a helpless little human every minute of my life. It was simply too scary. I was great with those Tanner boys, though, and they were a handful, let me tell you. But I was allowed to say goodbye at the end of every day. It was easy to give your all when the situation was only temporary. I just always figured the only kids I could love unconditionally were the ones who weren’t my own.
Besides, my husband hadn’t exactly been pushing to have a baby. I think he was too afraid of having to share me with anyone else, and God forbid I ever did anything that altered my body in any way.
There were times during our marriage when I found myself questioning every life choice I’d ever made. How did I end up here? I’d sacrificed love for the easy comforts of a wealthy lifestyle, and I’d given up so much of myself in the process. And where had it gotten me? Sure, I had money to burn. But what was the point of it all? Easy living? Was that really worth hurting everyone around me? Hiding my true self behind the façade of a Society Wife? And for what?
The cold, hard truth was that it was all about the cold, hard cash. Money—or lack thereof—could make a person do desperate things. Make me do desperate things. What kind of person sells their soul like that?
Like I said: I’d be a horrible mother.
I looked down at the sleeping bundle of joy in my arms, watching as her long, russet lashes twitched against her pink cheeks. Hang onto those dreams, Jennifer. I gave her a nuzzle and whispered through the tears in my eyes, “But lucky for you, little girl, I plan on being an amazing aunt.”
CHAPTER 35
Righteous Rage
BRENDA
Sunday, May 6
1979
Joey Harrison’s was the hottest hotspot in New Jersey. After Saturday Night Fever took the entire country by storm, it seemed new dance clubs were popping up every week in an attempt to cash in on its popularity. Joey’s was the best of them. The place had been a fixture in Clifton for over a decade but it wasn’t converted into a disco until a few years ago.
The DJs played everything from Abba to The Village People with everything in between. Perfect beats to boogie down to on the colorfully lit dance floor, accentuated by the silvery smoke rising up from the baseboards and the glitter raining down from the ceiling. From the shiny outfits on its customers to the mirrors that lined every wall, the entirety of the place positively sparkled.
Virginia, Anthony, Eddie, and I had been coming here after work every Sunday for the past few months. It was a great way to unwind at the end of our workweek, and the one night of the week when we could really cut loose. No one even cared about the hangovers because we all had off on Mondays and could sleep in as late as we wanted.
I’d just gotten my long hair cut into a shoulder-length, feathered style, and with a bit of help from my hot rollers, managed to pull off a look that would rival any Charlie’s Angel. I was wearing my powder-blue spandex wrap skirt over a matching cap-sleeved bodysuit, along with my strappy platform Espadrilles.
Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off me.
We were seated on one of the red velvet banquettes surrounding the dance floor. The Bee Gees were blaring throughout the entire room, “Jive Talking” scratching against my eardrums in the most exhilarating way and causing my feet to bounce involuntarily in time with the beat.
Eddie nuzzled his face into my neck and spoke over the loud music, “I feel like I’m cheating on you. You look like a different woman!”
I laughed as I ran my hand down the lapels of his camel-brown leather blazer. “And you, thankfully, look like the same man.” After a short-lived facial hair experiment, he’d finally given up on the idea of a moustache and shaved it off a few hours before. Eddie was as gorgeous as ever. How was it that he managed to look even better than he did ten years ago?
He smiled that crooked smile in my direction and leaned in to kiss me before we were interrupted by an out-of-breath Virginia. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
She and a sweaty Anthony flopped themselves down on the couch next to ours as I answered, “It got too crowded! We’ll get back out there, though. Don’t worry.”
Anthony swiped his brow with a cocktail napkin. “Well, I need a drink after that. Who’s ready for another round?”
I slurped the last of my Singapore Sling but before I could answer, Eddie piped in. “Uh, we’re good, thanks.” My eyes darted to my husband, shooting him a questioning look. We’d only been there about an hour and he’d been nursing the same martini since we got in the door. He leaned in closer to explain against my ear, “I didn’t bring enough cash. We’re running pretty thin, here.”
Story of our life.
“Aww, are you sure?” Virginia asked, probably wondering why we were cutting ourselves off at eleven-thirty.
The discouraged look on my face must have been enough of an explanation because she gave a nudge to Tony who immediately declared, “C’mon, have another. We’re buyin’!”
“No,” Eddie stated, more firmly than necessary. His tone had us all gaping at him. He brushed a hand down his face and added, “Sorry. No, thank you. We really should get going anyway.”
Maybe I should have just shut up. But I had a bit of a buzz going, and all I could think was that the night was way too young to cut so short. “Eddie. I’m sure we could stay for just one more. What’s the big deal? Let your friend buy you a drink.”
The way he looked at me made my blood go cold. Before I could speak another word, he grabbed my hand and hauled me off the couch, my legs scurrying to keep pace with him as he pulled me toward the exit.
Once we were outside, I wrenched free of his grasp and yelled, “Eddie! Stop it! What’s going on?”
The caveman act was completely out of character, and I didn’t appreciate being dragged through a nightclub like some insolent piece of property in front of a hundred strangers.
“I’m sick of this, Bren! I can’t take living like this anymore!”
“Like what?”
“Like a mooch!”
He paced back and forth as he ran his hands through his hair, unsure whether to head to the car or stay and finished what we started.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t budging until we straightened this out. “Our best friends wanted to buy us a drink. That’s hardly mooching. If the roles were reversed, we’d have done the same for them.”
“The roles are never reversed, Bren. Never!”
I crossed my arms and stared him down. “Well, then, reverse them. Get a second job or something. I don’t know.”
His brow tightened as his mouth snarled in disbelief. “A second job?”
I didn’t think a second job was asking too much. Heck, I’d done it for years. If I could put in the extra hours, so could he. Show some ambition, dammit. “Well, then talk to Anthony about the head chef gig. You never ask him about it!”
“He’ll never get rid of Marciano!”
“Then quit! You can get a chef job somewhere else.”
“You know I can’t do that!”
This was gearing up to be another nasty battle—par for the course these days. There were times over the past months that I started to question if we’d make it. We’d been fighting so much lately and it was breaking my heart. His, too. His shoulders slumped in defeat—giving us both a minute to collect ourselves—and I felt my anger deflate.
I put my hands to his jaw and turned his face to meet my eyes. “Eddie, I love you. I know things haven�
�t been easy and Lord knows I’ve gotten frustrated about it, too. But if you change nothing, nothing changes. The life you choose to lead is up to you.”
“This is hardly a life for a stray dog, much less two capable humans. You deserve better.”
Ouch. I’d said as much over the years and now it was starting to sink in and bring him down, too. I must’ve been hurting him by being so negative. It was a rare occasion when I was simply grateful for all that we had instead of focusing solely on what we didn’t; Eddie was usually the one to remind me of how good we had it. Maybe that’s how we worked. Maybe only one of us was allowed to be discouraged at a time.
I guessed it was my turn to be the rational one.
“It won’t be like this forever, Eddie.”
“It’s been like this forever. I want so much better for you, for us.”
The word “want” got my feathers up all over again. It was always wishes and hopes and dreams with him. Never goals. Never plans. If he wasn’t happy with the situation, then he should’ve changed it. Nothing could be accomplished by just sitting around waiting for things to work out on their own.
My encouragement turned to anger with a flip of the switch. I dropped my hands from his face before throwing them in the air. “Well then do something about it!”
“Like what?”
“Anything!”
I didn’t want to cut him down; that was never my intention. But from the furious look on his face, you’d think I just lopped off his balls. Here we go again. “Goddammit, Bren! Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like when you say stuff like that? It’s like you think I’m half a man.”
“Oh, don’t turn this into ‘Poor Eddie.’ You know damn well what I’m trying to say.”
“I should. You’ve only been saying it for ten fucking years!”