by Gail Sattler
He led her outside where his built-in gas barbecue was heated up and ready.
Patty shuffled her feet, then sat in one of the padded deck chairs. “There must be something I can do.”
The steaks sizzled as they touched the hot grill. “Nope. I’ve got everything under control.”
She folded her hands in her lap and sat straight in the chair, her back stiff as a board.
“Relax, Patty. You’re my guest.”
“Sorry.”
To be honest with himself, he was as nervous as she was, except he had something to concentrate on, which was cooking. Before, when he was nervous, he offset it by having a drink in his hand, but that was no longer an option.
If he had had anything left in the house, which, of course, he didn’t because Patty had dumped it all down the sink, his first impulse would have been to offer her a glass of wine. This was an old habit he would have to break.
It had been five weeks and six days since he’d had a drink, and this was the first time that neither he nor his guest drank while he entertained. When he was a child, before he was allowed to drink, his parents always served alcohol when they entertained, which was the socially acceptable thing to do. He felt the absence, as much by the breaking of a lifetime of habits as the addiction itself.
“I’ve got coffee ready in the kitchen. If you want a cup, help yourself.” He flipped the steaks over. “I don’t mind if you rummage through my fridge. I’d like to make you a cappuccino, but I can’t leave this.”
“It’s okay. I can watch the barbecue.”
“No way. I said I was going to cook dinner, and by that I meant that I’m going to do it all. Tell you what. I’ll make that cappuccino after supper.” He already knew exactly what flavoring she liked in it. He’d bought a jar of it last week, waiting for the day he would have the opportunity to use it. He’d also bought a can of spray whipped cream for the occasion, just in case.
While he cooked the steaks, Mike told her a few jokes and some of his best and worst barbecue experiences over the years. She howled with laughter when he told her about the time his neighbor’s dog dug a hole under the fence, then somehow managed to knock over the plate of cooked meat when he went into the house to bring out the rest of the food. He had come back into the yard with his friends, ready to eat, and discovered the dog had eaten the wieners and left the steaks on the ground, untouched.
Today he didn’t want to eat outside. He transferred the steaks to a plate and ushered Patty to the dining room. First he pulled out the chair for her, seated her properly, poured the coffee, and then began to place the food on the table.
She ran her fingers over the cloth napkins, then sniffed at the flowers while he made a second trip back to the kitchen. Her eyes opened wide when he laid the potato casserole before her.
“Don’t be so shocked. Not every single man lives on pizza and frozen dinners. It really was easy to make.”
Next, he brought the dish of broccoli with cheese sauce out of the microwave.
“Don’t tell me you made this yourself.”
He grinned. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. The sauce is out of a bottle, but the broccoli is cooked to perfection.”
Mike sat, tucked his napkin in his lap, and folded his hands on the table while she fiddled with her napkin.
He waited for awhile, then spoke. “Shall we pray before it gets cold?”
Her cheeks turned pink, which he thought quite endearing.
After they paused for a word of prayer, instead of digging in, she continued to stare at everything.
“Don’t be shy. Do you want me to eat some first to prove to you that you’re not going to die of food poisoning?”
Her cheeks darkened again. “Sorry. I’m just so caught off guard by all this. You really did make this all by yourself. I expected something different.”
“Did you expect me to be like the single guys on television—to buy takeout and put it on my own dishes and pretend I did it myself?”
Patty stared at the ground and said nothing.
“I made dessert too.”
“Boy. I don’t know what to say. You went through so much trouble—just for me.”
She didn’t know the half of it. Preparing the food was nothing compared to cleaning up the house. It had been so bad, he would have died of embarrassment if she’d seen it. When his housekeeper came back, he would more fully appreciate all her hard work cleaning up after him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not a big deal. Even if you hadn’t come, I still had to eat. It was a nice change to be able to cook something special.”
Her cheeks flushed, she lowered her chin, cautiously took a bite, paused, and then smiled. “This is really good. It would be perfect for a potluck at the church. Do you think I could have the recipe?”
Mike laughed. “No one has ever asked me for a recipe before, especially a woman. I guess so.”
“No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Next time there’s a potluck, you can make this and bring it yourself.”
Mike froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “You’re kidding, right?”
She smiled. “Wrong.”
He’d never been to a potluck, and wasn’t really sure what went on there. All he knew was that it had something to do with eating.
When they were done, he brought out the dessert.
Patty giggled. “This is Jell-O.”
“Yes. I boiled the water all by myself too.”
She tilted her head to examine it further. “You were very artistic spraying on the whipped cream.”
“I wish I had a cherry to put on top for a finishing touch, but my creativity only goes so far.”
She glanced quickly at her watch. “I don’t want to rush through this delectable treat, but if we’re going to have time to walk through the aquarium without rushing, we’re going to have to leave soon.”
“Fine by me.”
Soon they were in the car. Mike settled into the passenger seat and selected a CD while Patty drove. The novelty of Patty driving his car had worn off long ago, and he longed to be the one driving. Now the only time he got to sit behind the wheel was on Saturdays when he washed it while he cleaned the interior.
If he forced himself to think of something good, being without his car had a few side benefits. Despite the fact that he had cashed in his membership at the gym, he was in great shape from biking for miles every day. He was also getting to know the people in his neighborhood. He was on a first-name basis with the clerk at the grocery store, because he could carry only what fit in his backpack and had to shop every few days instead of once a week like he used to. Since he was unemployed, he had plenty of time to strike up friendly conversations with other people in line rather than fretting away the time, anxious to be out the door.
Patty’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Remember, since this was my idea, I’m paying.”
Mike sighed. “Patty, don’t do this to me.”
“If you don’t let me pay, I’m going to turn around right now, and I’ll drop you off at home.”
Mike grumbled his reply.
“Good,” she said. “Here we are.”
Patricia smiled sweetly as she tucked her wallet back into her purse and patted it. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, but she decided not to question him.
Since it was a weeknight and only a couple of hours until closing, the complex was nearly deserted, which was fine with her. It was comfortably quiet, with the only noise the bubbling of the aquariums and the low murmur of conversations from a few small groups of people in various places in the section they entered. The backlit aquariums in the dark room gave it a strange ambiance of privacy in a public setting.
They walked around the room slowly, enjoying the colorful fishes and other aquatic species on display.
As they stood watching a small display of starfish that weren’t really doing anything, she felt the warmth of Mike’s
hand enclose hers. He gave it a little squeeze, and then didn’t let go.
“This is really relaxing. You had a good idea. Thank you for suggesting this.”
She nodded. “I really like it here. It doesn’t change much, but it’s just as fascinating every time I come. When I get home, I always think about setting up my own fish tank, but it’s not the same.”
They moved to the next display, a tank containing some strange creatures that must have been some kind of fish, but just seemed to sit at the bottom of the tank like rocks with eyes. Mike lowered his head for a closer look, and Patricia held back a snicker at his boyish curiosity.
No matter how close he stood to a tank, and no matter whether he examined the tank’s occupants or read the blurb about each species, he didn’t let go of her hand.
By the time they checked out a few more displays, they were the only people left in that section of the room. Patricia thought it would be a good time to get him talking.
“You haven’t told me about your meeting last night. You always tell me something about what you did, but this time you haven’t.”
She felt him stiffen.
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a scary thing, having to start making a serious list of all the things you’ve messed up in your life. After the meeting, I couldn’t sleep, so I made my list last night. Claude warned us not to get obsessive about it—just list the major stuff. Well, my list isn’t very pretty.”
Part of her wanted to assure him that it couldn’t be that bad, but truthfully, she didn’t know it wasn’t. She knew about his drinking and driving, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think that the time he was arrested was the first time he did it. Bruce had also suspected that Mike had been under the influence of more than just alcohol at the time. It was a subject she didn’t want to bring up. She also knew he’d fled the scene of an accident. The thing that bothered her most was that he had been unfaithful to the woman he had promised to marry.
He continued to stare into the tank. “Claude gave us a list of verses. I think he meant to encourage us, but I’m still not sure about all this. Last night I read them so many times I think I’ve got them memorized.”
“Memorizing Bible verses is not a bad thing, Mike. I’ve got a number of verses memorized.”
“The main verse of the night was ‘Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.’ I forget the reference. It’s in the New Testament somewhere.”
Patty smiled. She knew it was in the book of James but couldn’t remember the exact reference. “Confession is good for the soul. Really.”
“We’re supposed to talk about this ‘exact nature of our wrongs’ thing with another person, and Claude said it’s a good idea to do it with a clergy person. You’re kind of a clergy person. You work for a church, and you’ve been to Bible college. You already know some of my list of wrongs. Do you think that counts?”
She could hear the anguish in his voice. Some people were able to freely admit when they messed up and confess their failings. Others were not. In her years of counseling, she’d dealt with both types. Mike obviously fit in the latter category. “Sure. I think that counts. Remember: Your life is not for me to judge. Whatever you’ve done, good or bad, is only between you and God, but it does help to talk about it.”
He cleared his throat, but his words came out in a low rumble anyway. “You already know about the charges against me. And you know what happened with Robbie. I’ve obviously had a falling out with Dad, and of course Mom is even more disappointed in me. No one at work is going to miss me, because I haven’t been the best manager. The list goes on. I’ve even been rotten to my house-keeper—when she was my housekeeper.”
He stopped talking and looked up at the description of the species in the nearest tank, but he wasn’t really reading the words. Patricia waited for him to continue.
“Everything I’ve done, it all comes down to thinking of myself first and not caring about the rights or feelings of others, even my family. I did whatever felt good at the time, without regard for anyone else. It didn’t matter if I knew I was going to hurt them.” He turned and stared blankly into the next aquarium. “I don’t know why you put up with me, but you’re always there.” He swallowed hard. “You know what’s really humbling? God pulled me out of the pit I was in and placed me with so many people who could help me before any more damage was done. Bruce. Claude.” He turned around and, not releasing her hand, reached up his other hand and ran his fingers down her cheek. “Most of all, you.”
Patricia trembled at his touch. She had no idea that Claude’s group would be doing something so deeply intense as this. Even in the strictest sessions, never had she pushed someone she was counseling to look at themselves so hard.
But then, she’d never counseled someone with such a powerful addiction, or who had made such a mess of his life. All she knew was that for those who applied themselves, with the help of God, the AA program worked.
Mike had displayed tremendous strength of character so far, especially since she understood the courage needed to honestly dig deep into oneself. He not only opened himself up to her and others, but he was moving past talking about it and was really doing something about it. Not many people could do that.
He prayed and read his Bible daily, trusting God completely for the guidance and instruction to be what God wanted him to be, and he was laying his life in God’s hands, one day at a time.
“God loves you, Mike. With the sacrifice of Jesus, everything you’ve done is wiped clean.”
He turned to her and smiled. “Yeah. I know. He really does, and it’s great.”
Patricia looked up at him, then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm.
Not only did God love Mike, Patricia knew that she loved him too.
Patricia checked her watch. Again.
She had laid out the hose, Mike’s special sponge, and the bottles of his favorite cleaners in the driveway. She’d also bought an extra bucket, which she had also left outside.
But Mike wasn’t there.
For all Mike’s failings, one thing she had learned about him was that he was punctual. He arrived faithfully at the same time every day for lunch, and since he started coming on Saturdays to wash his car, he also arrived at the same time every week.
For the first time, he was half an hour late, and Patricia didn’t know what to do. She’d phoned his house and gotten the answering machine, and he didn’t answer his cell phone.
She knew that he was on his bike. If he had an accident, except for his helmet, he was unprotected.
Once more, she went into the house to phone him. Just as the answering machine clicked on, she heard a strange clunking noise on her porch. Patricia dropped the phone and ran to the door.
Mike had arrived. She opened her mouth to tell him how scared she’d been that something had happened to him, knowing that in her next breath she would scold him for the exact same thing, but no words came out.
Something wasn’t right. Instead of his jeans, he was wearing shorts. For some reason, he was wearing gloves with no fingers, he was breathing heavily, and he seemed taller than usual.
He panted as he spoke. “Sorry I’m late. It took me longer than I thought.”
She first looked where he usually put his bike, but it wasn’t there. Then she looked down at his feet. He was wearing inline skates.
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. He peeled the wrist guards off his hands, tossed them on the ground, then pulled the helmet off his head. A few locks of wet hair landed with a splat across his forehead. The rest of his hair hung in damp clumps, and a few drops of sweat dripped down his face. He swiped his arm across his forehead. “That was much harder than I thought it would be.”
“You came all this way on those things?”
He let go a ragged sigh. “No. I had someone drop me off a few blocks from here, and I jumped through your neighbor’s sprinkler just to look all sweaty. What do you think?�
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“You don’t have to be so sarcastic. It was an honest question.”
He sank to sit on the bottom step, stretching his legs out and not making any effort to take the skates off his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m really hot and tired.”
“I’ll go get you some water.”
She hadn’t been gone long, but when she returned, instead of being on the bottom step where she left him, she found him stretched out, lying on the grass. He looked up at her from his position flat on his back. “Don’t laugh. The grass is nice and cool.”
“I’m not laughing. Just the opposite. I’m really quite amazed. It’s quite a distance from here to your house. I wonder how many miles it is.”
He lifted one foot in the air and began to undo the laces while still lying on his back. “I don’t know. But it’s too many miles to do this again. My ankles are killing me.”
She looked to his car, parked in the middle of the driveway, ready to be washed, which was the reason he had come. “I bought another bucket, just for you to use for your car. I have to finish cleaning the house, so you do the car while I wash my floors, and then we can make supper.”
“Sure.” He pulled off the skates and thick wool socks and added them to the pile beside the porch. He then padded barefoot to the car, arched and stretched his back, bent to rub his ankles, and picked up the bucket.
Patricia left him alone so he could go to the basement and fill the bucket with exactly the right temperature water while she began to finish her housework.
He was still wiping the car by the time she was done, so Patricia headed into the kitchen to start making supper. She had expected him to walk in and offer to help, but when she had finished everything, including setting the table, and he still hadn’t appeared, she headed outside to get him. She didn’t make it past the living room.