Emancipating Alice

by Ada Winder

  The food turned out to be quite tasty and he had to stop himself from insisting he come down to lunch or dinner every other day just to have a bite.

  He saw Candace smile for the first time as they were sitting down at the kitchen table, eating, talking about Tom. She had a beautiful smile, and a beautiful laugh. And her eyes had a way of sparkling as she did both.

  He found out she was nineteen and that she worked as a secretary. She was sharp and witty, and once, he caught her singing as her mother opened the door to him although she started humming instead when he came in. She had a beautiful voice.

  They started going on short walks after eating, where she spoke about her mother and her brother. Then they started talking about other things. Once, she darted out of the house, and when he asked Mrs. Gibson why she left so quickly, she explained Candace had a bus to catch. He then offered her—and insisted she pass his invitation on to her daughter—his own driving services when he was around and they wanted to go somewhere. He insisted it was no problem, he didn’t mind a few more minutes with them. Mrs. Gibson appeared touched once again. A white man chauffeuring us, she said. Well I’ll be. He smiled at her.

  Candace ended up taking him up on his offer every now and then, and on their drives, he learned about her hopes and dreams, her desires and fears. They were becoming great friends.

  George knew he was on dangerous ground but he didn’t care; he really liked her and enjoyed spending time with her.

  All his life thus far he had tried not to be like his father, but he knew it was there in him—this wandering eye. He thought that by marrying Alice he had proved himself to be a more worthy, stable partner. That he was better than his rolling stone of a father who had impregnated several girls over his life, two or more of them at the same time. His father eventually left his mother heartbroken and alone, scandalizing her in the process, and leaving her to take care of him by herself.

  His mother talked about being so despondent during her pregnancy when she found out about his father’s first indiscretion, that he was sure some of her emotions had influenced him in-utero making him insecure and needy by nature. Then he grew up watching his mother struggle to provide everything for him.

  His mother had a wistfulness about her that he wished he could lift. He never wanted to be the type of man that did that to a woman.

  George wasn’t even sure how many half brothers and sisters he had; he hadn’t met them all. Nor did he particularly care to come face-to-face with more of the carnage left behind by his father, seeing in their eyes what would surely be in his—the unanswered letters, the promises broken.

  His mother had tried to protect him from his father, realizing too late what kind of man he was. He had already proven himself to be a lousy romantic companion, but she also saw that he was a worthless paternal figure and did not want her son to be hurt or influenced by him. But George had insisted on being in contact with him in some way or other, trying to form some type of relationship.

  And then one day, his mother had finally gotten his father to agree to take him out to watch a baseball game. George was about six years old at the time, and he remembered being so excited about this special day. He got ready early, even cleaning behind his ears and tying his own laces to make sure he was neat like his mother tried to get him to be so his father could see he was a good boy and would like him better.

  His mother called and confirmed the pick-up time: four o’ clock.

  George asked his mother every couple of minutes what time it was.

  It’s only two fifty-seven George—why don’t you sit down and watch some of the television?

  Now, George it’s only three o’ nine. There’s plenty of time left. Just relax!

  It’s three eighteen honey—counting the minutes won’t make him come any faster!

  Three thirty-one. Three thirty-eight. Three forty-two.

  He realized now that back then, she did not have the heart to tell him to just shut up—he was so excited, so happy, she had no choice but to indulge him. She even had trouble hiding her own happiness on his behalf.

  Finally, George could contain himself no more. He got up from the couch and stood by the door. His mother took pity on him and opened the door, sitting outside on the porch with him. He kicked his legs in excitement, back and forth beneath the chair.

  At four-eleven, his leg-kicking slowed down. By four twenty-three, his legs had stopped kicking completely as he stood, looking eagerly down the road.

  At five o’ clock, his mother was trying to get him to go inside but he pulled away from her and kept looking longingly down the empty road. At five-twenty, she physically removed him from his seat and toward the door to go inside despite his protests.

  “But I might miss him!” he said, and somehow, her face said to him that he already had, although her mouth said: “He’ll blow his horn if he comes.”

  “But he’s still coming, isn’t he?” George asked as the door shut behind him.

  “I don’t know sweetie,” she said, but even then he knew she was lying.

  There were no apologies, no explanations given. He heard his mother shouting into the phone later at who must have been his dad. But all she said was “he forgot” through clenched teeth when she talked to him later.

  After that incident and his subsequent depression, his mother refused any more promises from his father. But George never gave up.

  When he was old enough, he tried, unsuccessfully, to meet him, talk to him. All of his attempts were met with lukewarm responses, if any at all.

  And then finally, after trying to get him to at least meet his first serious girlfriend, Selena, and being denied, he gave up.

  All he had to show over all the years was a pair of tennis shoes his father had sent to him when he was about nine. Still, they were a cherished pair of shoes. George wore them until he could wear them no more without being ridiculed. And even when they were beyond wear, he kept them.

  His father was shifty, indifferent, and unreliable, a liar and a cheater, but he was still his father. George still longed to be accepted by him someday, still felt a kind of love for him even though he was determined not to be like him. He would be his father’s opposite.

  ***

  George had been seeing Selena since their senior year in high school and throughout their first year of college. He’d had a few green, casual relationships before her, but they were simple and puppy-like, setting the stage for more mature, longer-term ones. He thought he was really in love with Selena, convinced they would marry someday. She was everything he wanted in a woman—cute, smart, and she adored him as far as he could tell. But Selena had a bit too much of an independent spirit for his liking. So much so, that she ended up transferring in their second year of college because it suited her needs more. George had been taken aback, having fully expected her to stay with him—how else could they make their relationship work? She was only a few states away but still, George got nervous with distance. He knew she was doing what was best for her, that she didn’t move because of him “breathing down her neck” like she’d told him before—just that the other school offered more of what she was looking for in terms of courses and school size.

  George planned to give their relationship his all—or most at least; after all, he really did love her, and she, him, as far as he could tell. They exchanged phone calls, letters. He visited her every now and then. He hoped it would all be enough, but he found himself needing more. He longed for more immediate and readily available contact.

  The phone calls, letters and visits continued into his first year with Alice. Alice had caught his eye and from the minute he saw those stunning eyes, that beautiful hair, that inviting smile, he knew he had to have her. Plus she seemed to have such independence in her eyes, and he had an irresistible desire to tame it, make her need someone else. He would make her his.

  Alice had found one of Selena’s letters to him once, and naturally, angrily confronted him about it. He was able to lie his
way out of it, and pretty smoothly too, so he thought. An ex, he said, although he had never actually broken off his relationship with Selena. She’s still in love with me I guess, and can’t really accept that I’m with you now. Christ, and it’s been over a year! Honestly, if I didn’t know her, I’d be afraid of her stalking me but she’s harmless. She’ll get it.

  Well, you need to make it more clear to her! Alice had told him. She has to know that this is inappropriate. You’re just not hard enough on her. George, I know you can be a softie sometimes, but you’ve got to put your foot down.

  George finally broke it off with Selena not too long after the incident to ensure she did not show up on campus for a surprise visit although she had never visited before; George had encouraged her not to, promising to be the one to travel for their meetings. But even if she’d surprised him one day, he knew he’d have nothing to fear; the story was established with Alice. He would brush off the visit the same way he’d brushed off the letter. Besides, as far as he could tell, the campus was on his side. No one would tell their suspicions to Alice.

  In any case, he thought it safer to make Alice his only girl; she was a good substitute.

  He was convinced neither girl suspected the magnitude of his relationship with the other, so none would be hurt by it. All’s well that ends well.

  But Alice seemed to always suspect him of something.

  “Why do you have to have so many female friends?” she had asked him once. He proceeded to tell her about his childhood, displayed his emotional side.

  “What guy do you know chats about his feelings like this to another guy? Girls lend a sympathetic ear; they’re more compassionate. Guys would be like: ‘Man, are you gay?’”

  He could tell she understood where he was coming from but still, she saw no need for him to maintain such close relationships with them now that he had her. She was always afraid things would go further with one of them, but didn’t she get it? She was not enough; she could never be enough. How could one person be everything to another?

  He realized then that he and his father were similar in some ways. He liked a lot of different women around him too, attractive ones that he could form platonic friendships with. But unlike his father, he didn’t sleep with them. Even if he knew some wanted to take things further, he would always respect his current relationship. Not that he would never make a friend a lover of course; it was all about timing. And if there was another way he differed from his father, it was that he actually cared about the women he got involved with. He was emotionally vested in their relationships—friends and girlfriends alike—and ideally, he would have liked to maintain relationships with all of them throughout his life. He loved them all in different ways, to varying degrees. They were all precious to him. And that was one reason he could never turn some of those friends into lovers. He would rather keep them around on one level than take things further and risk having the relationship go awry and lose them completely.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  George could tell Candace tried to be respectful of his marriage.

  She had noticed his ring once and asked him about his family. He had told her about them, also wanting to respect his family and hoping honesty would help.

  But one evening, after he’d taken her to the movies and they’d parked to talk, he kissed her. He did not know where it had come from, for it had not been premeditated, but his lips found hers.

  She melted into it at first, then pulled away.

  “I’m sorry for that,” he said quickly. “It’s just that...” He let out a breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart and all the emotions rising in him. “I...I feel things for you.” He shook his head. “Heavy things. I didn’t mean to and I know it’s wrong but I thought we could be good friends and that all this time we’ve been spending together didn’t have to amount to anything but it does; everything’s all tangled up and confused...”

  She put a finger to her lips.

  “I know. You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry too. I know you’re married, and now that we both know we’re on a risky path...”—she let out a heavy breath—“...we just have to quit this.”

  Although it was the right thing to say, it turned out to be the worst thing to say.

  George felt an unexpected leak in his heart, a leak that turned into a deluge, and what he thought was heavy before was no comparison to what took him over now.

  He even thought he heard some withered form of his voice escape his lips and form the word “no,” but he couldn’t be sure. Candace did not react to it, only continued to look down at her lap.

  He wanted to hold her and kiss her and shake off those ugly words she had just spoken. Did she really expect him to not see her anymore?

  “I appreciate you spending time with me and my family, but...” She shrugged her lovely shoulders and stared out the window.

  Where was she going? It was all too sudden. He felt like she had pulled a rug out from underneath him. All the moments they’d shared, the time they spent, the precious relationship they’d built, the love he felt…she wanted to just throw it all away? George couldn’t take it. He felt like she was slipping away and the only thing he could do was make a desperate grab for her by pulling her face toward his with both hands to kiss her again, making sure she could not pull away unless he let her. His lips tugged at hers hungrily, his tongue caressing the inside of her mouth. She did not stop him and he was not going to stop himself.

  Before he knew it, he was on top of her, and one of his hands found its way under her dress. The next was leaning her seat back. He was still kissing her when she finally pulled away and broke for air.

  “George, we can’t do this—it’s not a good idea!”

  Her eyes looked scared, but her voice did not sound convincing. As far as he was concerned, she was just paying lip service to her morals, protesting to make herself feel better that she at least said something even though it was against what she actually felt. He knew she wanted him, for she kissed him back with a need and hunger that matched his. He had no idea if she was a virgin or not and he certainly had no time to think about it, but just as he was about to take her she broke for air again.

  “Please take it easy,” she said, and he still didn’t know if that was just the way she liked it or if it was her first time. He tried to do as she said nonetheless, as those were the only words that sunk into his brain thus far. He needed her, he wanted her. So he finally took her. It all happened so fast he barely had time to realize what was being done and its potential consequences until it was over.

  ***

  She couldn’t look at him, and he knew he should have had the decency to feel the same way and avoid her eyes as well, but he wanted her to look at him, he needed to look into her eyes. She readjusted the seat and fixed her clothes after he climbed off of her, all the while managing to look everywhere but in his direction.

  “Candace...”

  She shook her head, silencing him.

  “I shouldn’t have let that happen,” she said. “I’m a good girl. And you’re a married man, with a family.” She shook her head again. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

  George wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that it was mostly his for seeing where they were going and not stopping it, for ignoring what was really going on with him, pretending it was all innocent when he could feel himself falling for her, looking forward to his visits to their house with more anticipatory happiness and missing her more than he should. Feeling himself growing more and more attached to her day by day. Taking her out to eat, going on walks, talking to her, comforting her.

  He wanted to tell her that the real problem came when she said they should essentially break up. It was the wrong time, wrong place. It only made him want her more. Her words caused something in him to break.

  But he couldn’t tell her that of course; he didn’t want to blame himself, nor did he want to blame her. Although convinced it was not her fault, he also didn’t want to
take the blame alone.

  “We can pretend this never happened,” she said, a ray of hope creeping into her voice as she stared out the window.

  He actually chuckled.

  “Yeah right,” he said. “I can’t forget this. I can never forget this.” He reached out and touched her hand. She pulled it away.

  “I don’t want this on my conscience,” she said.

  George thought about her words, the irony.

  “Candace, I love you,” he blurted.

  Apparently, those were the magic words—the ones that caused her own dam to break. She dissolved into a weeping mass, her hands to her face.

  “Shhh…no don’t cry, Candace.” He reached out for her again, pulling her into his arms. She did not resist this time. He wasn’t even sure if she noticed his embrace. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. He was talking to himself this time.

  By the time George dropped Candace back home, they’d agreed to do their best to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. George agreed to cut down his visits to only once every two weeks for her mother’s sake for lunch. Then he would leave as soon as possible. He and Candace would spend no more time with each other alone. But after the first month, even that arrangement dwindled down to nothing, as Candace started making herself scarce whenever he came over.

  Eventually, he told Mrs. Gibson it was too difficult for him to keep traveling there. He brought up his family as a way to explain it. His children needed him. His travels took him away from his family for more than six hours of the day. Mrs. Gibson was a reasonable woman, so she understood. She made him promise he would at least try to see her again someday, that he would keep in touch somehow. He hoped that he could. He loved both women and regretted that he had done something to make Candace not want to see him anymore.

  He did not see nor speak to Candace again, and no matter how much he wanted to, he resisted making the drive down to the Gibson house, resisted picking up the telephone to call. He could not put his finger on all the things that helped him get through the days and nights of missing Candace—her voice, her personality and her wit, but one thing that helped the new baby on the way; Alice would be giving birth pretty soon.