by Neta Jackson
I watched the noisy activity, smiling to myself. This was the House of Hope—a place to live and belong for single moms who otherwise would be homeless. But there were still two apartments to go before we had a full house—which meant three or four more moms plus kids. What would our potlucks be like then?
I wondered if Philip would come to SouledOut the next morning with Denny and Jodi, but I didn’t see him when we walked into the large, open storefront-turned-church-sanctuary in the Howard Street Shopping Center. “He’s looking at a couple apartments this morning,” Jodi said, pulling me aside. “But be praying, Gabby. Denny and Harry plan to meet with Philip this afternoon for some man-talk. Didn’t really give Philip a choice about it. I mean, Denny put it real nice, you know, a chance to brainstorm stuff about how to get out from under this gambling debt, what to do about the lawsuits, and stuff. But”—a small smile played at the corners of her mouth—“if I know Denny and Harry, they’ve got more up their sleeves, and don’t plan on playing softball.”
I stared at Jodi. “What do you mean?”
She brushed her longish brown bangs aside. “Ever since Denny had a chance to hang out with Philip and the boys last weekend while you were gone, he’s been praying for a time to talk with Philip—man-to-man—about all the stuff that happened between you two. Feels like that’s gotten swept under the rug ever since Philip got beat up and landed in the hospital. You know, the ‘urgent’ eclipsing the ‘important.’ And then this week, out of the blue, Harry calls up Denny to go with him to pick up Philip from the casino, and Philip’s gotta move and needs a place to stay, and suddenly here he is, in our house! Denny sees it as an answer to his prayer.”
I nodded slowly. “Which I couldn’t imagine happening even a week ago.” I was trying to process what Jodi was saying. I’d been assuming that Philip running down to the casino the first time he had money in his pocket was the ultimate bad news. But was it possible God was actually using it to move Philip into a place where it’d be a natural thing for Denny and Harry—two men I respected greatly—to talk to Philip? God-talk? Man-to-man talk?
The possibility so blew me away I hardly paid attention to the service that morning, letting the worship swirl around me, wrapping me in a protective cocoon that shut out everything else around me. Even the sermon, delivered by Pastor Clark in his gentle way, felt like silk threads tying up the loose ends around my cocoon. I was still in a kind of stupor on the way home from church, half praying in fits and starts, my thoughts bouncing around like popcorn, when P.J. broke into my mental jumble.
“Mom? . . . Mom! Did you hear me? You wanted to go bike riding on your birthday weekend and it rained. But it’s pretty nice today. You wanna go on a bike ride somewhere?”
It took a few moments to reenter reality. Had Lee and I set a time for our date? Not really, so there should be plenty of time to go for a bike ride this afternoon and still go out with Lee this evening. I’d told Philip I wanted to talk—but it didn’t sound like he was going to be available this afternoon. “Sure, kiddo. Sounds like fun. Wanna eat lunch first or pack a picnic and eat somewhere?”
I hadn’t been on my “borrowed” bike since Lee had given it to me on my birthday, so it took awhile to get used to the gears and brakes again, but by the time we were sailing down the bike path along Lake Michigan, I was enjoying the brisk wind and sun on my face and hearing the laughter and shouts of P.J. and Paul behind me. The “high” for that day was only in the fifties, but I’d dressed in warm layers and the brilliant blue sky and sunshine tempered the chill in the air.
We rode the few miles to the Lincoln Park Zoo, locked up our bikes, and ate our lunch watching the seals poke their noses up out of the surface of their pool, snuffle at their visitors, and disappear once more. We spent another hour at the zoo, mostly watching the big apes grooming each other and the smaller monkeys swinging from rope to rope in their habitat. A bag of popcorn and a couple of Slushies from one of the zoo vendors tanked us up for the ride home—this time against the wind—and we arrived back at the six-flat with tired legs, red cheeks, and cold noses. But I could tell the boys had had a good time, and hopefully they’d cut me some slack when I told them I was going out that evening while they stayed home to do their homework.
The red light was flashing on the answering machine. Philip? Was he ready to talk? If so, maybe I needed to cancel my date with Lee. Didn’t really want to, but I was the one who’d said we needed to talk ASAP.
I waited until the boys were out of earshot before hitting Play. But it wasn’t Philip. “Hi, Gabby, it’s Lee. We’re still getting together this evening, right? Is seven okay? Could be a bit nippy once the sun goes down, so dress warmly. Thought we’d go to that Thai restaurant I told you about. Should be able to talk there.”
I winced. That’s right. I’d told Lee we needed to talk too.
Argh. I didn’t need “complicated.” Part of me just wanted to take a good long soak in a hot bubble bath, get into my winter jammies, and chill out in front of a mushy Hallmark special with some popcorn and hot chocolate.
But another part of me felt a tingle of excitement at spending the evening with Lee. A Thai restaurant? Sounded nice. Lee always picked a place with good food. With one eye on the clock, I took a hot shower, washed and blow-dried my mane of curls, and dressed carefully in a clean pair of boot-cut jeans, a forest-green mock-turtleneck sweater and matching corduroy jacket, and a pair of comfy leather clogs. I smiled in the mirror as I hooked simple gold loops into my earlobes. Casual but not too casual. Lee would like the red-gold highlights that shone in my hair tonight—if the restaurant wasn’t too dark, that is.
Strange that I hadn’t heard from Philip. I’d told him I wasn’t available this evening, and he’d said, “Monday at the latest,” so guess we were still good. I couldn’t help being curious whether Denny and Harry had managed to have their man-to-man talk. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Philip would tell me about, even if they had.
“Lord, help him to come up with a plan to get his life straightened out,” I breathed as the door buzzer rattled the intercom. Shrugging into my burgundy raincoat with the cozy zip-in liner and hood, I called out, “P.J.? Paul? I’m leaving now! Josh and Edesa know you’re here alone, so if you need anything, just call upstairs, okay?”
The Spoon Thai Restaurant on Western Avenue wasn’t large, but it had a warm décor with lots of wood paneling, mostly pine, and bamboo trim. There were no booths, but a long wooden bench ran along each wall, facing a row of small tables on each side, each of which seated two with a chair on the side opposite the wooden bench. Another row of tables ran down the middle of the room, a round-backed wooden chair on each side. For larger parties, tables could be pushed together.
The lighting was neither bright nor dim, just pleasant. The restaurant was populated but not overly crowded, and Lee chose a table beside the front window. He looked good—smooth shaven, a hint of a woodsy aftershave, and wearing a cream-colored cable-knit cotton sweater over a pair of jeans with a light-blue shirt collar sticking out of the neck. His round wire rims and shock of brown hair falling over half his forehead gave him the same boyish look that had captivated me the day I’d first met him in the Legal Aid office.
“I’m not real hungry,” I said, scanning the menu. “Maybe just a couple of appetizers—got any recommendations?”
“I might do that, too, but tell you what. Why don’t we each get two appetizers and share them, plus we’ll get an order of fried rice. That should be plenty. Sound good?”
I smiled to myself. That’s what I liked about Lee. We had the same tastes and enjoyed keeping things simple. I ordered the vegetable egg rolls and something called Kanom Buang Yuan, which the menu described as a “Thin omelet stuffed with shredded coconut, ground peanuts, shrimp, bean sprouts, tofu, and served with a cucumber salad.”
“Ah ha. Living dangerously,” he teased, then ordered Hoi Tod—“Stir-fried mussels served with hot sauce”—and Satay Chicken, thin slices of chicke
n marinated in a light curry sauce and served with a peanut sauce and the cucumber salad. At least the Satay was one of my favorites.
After the young Asian waiter took our order, Lee reached across the table and took my hand. “So what’s been happening at the House of Hope since your birthday two weeks ago?”
Was it only two weeks ago? I let my hand rest in his. “Well, I took a group of women from Manna House to Wisconsin to see the fall colors, and Lucy sprained her ankle real bad, so we’re keeping Dandy with us for a while. And two more moms and their kids—well, one’s a grandmother and granddaughter—moved into the second-floor apartment at the House of Hope this weekend, so that leaves only two more of the original tenants to move out before we’ll have a full house.”
I deliberately avoided any mention of Philip and the lawsuits against him, or the expensive dining room table he’d sent for my birthday, or even the fact that he was moving out of the penthouse. “Oh, and the boys and I went for a bike ride this afternoon, down to the Lincoln Park Zoo.” I smiled at him. “Thanks again for the loan of your sister’s bike.”
Lee lifted an eyebrow and returned a tolerant smile. “It’s yours if you want it, Gabby. You know that.”
I slid my hand out of his and sighed. “I know that, Lee. It’s just—”
“It’s just that you can’t take such a big gift from me right now, until we figure out what our relationship is, right?” He eyed me intensely.
I flushed. “Something like that.” I took a sip of my water.
“Well, I agree. You’re right, we haven’t really talked since that night at the hospital when I . . . when I said some things in the heat of the moment that I didn’t mean. I was just so angry that—” He stopped himself, his jaw muscles working, then laughed self-consciously. “Okay, Boyer, start over. What I’m trying to say, Gabby, is—”
The waiter appeared, arms laden with dishes. “Shrimp fried rice . . . Kanom Buang Yuan . . .” He named off each dish in his Thai-accented English as he set them down on the table between us, along with two warmed plates, a tea pot, tea cups with no handles, and extra napkins. “You like anything else? More ice water?”
Lee shook his head. “No, no, we’re good. Thanks.” He dished up half of the appetizers onto one of the plates and handed it to me, then served himself. “Sorry about that. Go ahead, enjoy while the food’s hot. Maybe we can talk after we eat, okay?”
I nodded, and for the next half hour we kept the conversation light as we tried the different dishes. The Hoi Tod mussels with hot sauce were a bit too exotic for me, but I enjoyed everything else. As we ate, Lee said he’d had to cut his Legal Aid work back to one day a week, as new cases piled up at his firm. I filled him in on the story of how Lucy sprained her ankle—he roared at the image of our favorite bag lady pretending to be a circus tightrope walker—and described her eightieth birthday party, complete with Pin the Tie on the Mayor, which got a big chuckle from Lee.
Finally the waiter cleared away our dishes, but by now the restaurant had filled up with more patrons and the noise level had risen. “Do you—would you like to walk a bit? There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. “If you won’t get too cold.”
“I’m fine. Got a couple of layers on here.”
We put on our coats, and I pulled the hood of my raincoat over my head. Lee grabbed an umbrella from his car because the sky had clouded up and it looked like it might rain. I held on to his arm and we walked a couple of blocks south on Western and turned west on Montrose as he tried to pick up on our “talk” from earlier that evening.
“All I want to say, Gabby, is that I didn’t mean to push you away that night. You were in a tough spot, and I should have been more understanding. It was overhearing your jerk of a husband asking you to forgive him that . . . well, it pushed me over the edge. The man doesn’t deserve to be forgiven! What he did—”
“Lee—”
“Okay, okay. I know. Let’s not talk about Philip. He’s your kids’ father, and for that reason alone, I guess you’ll always have to deal with him. I just want you to know, Gabby, that I care for you a great deal. I behaved badly that night. But I don’t want to lose you. Can you forgive me?”
I squeezed his arm with the hand I’d tucked into the crook of it. “Yes, of course I forgive you, Lee. And I care about you too. But it’s not that simp—”
“Gabby, look.” He slowed. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
We had started to walk over a two-lane bridge that crossed the Chicago River. I looked around. Classic, old-fashioned streetlights lined the bridge and cast their light on clumps of trees below still clinging to their leaves. A misty fog seemed to be settling down over the river and the bridge. “It’s like a fairy park!” I breathed with delight.
“It is a park right here. The river is narrow at this point and runs south through Homer Park before it heads through the city. It’s pretty in the daytime too.”
We stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the decorative iron railings. I picked up what I’d been trying to say. “I do care about you, Lee. You’ve been a good friend and . . . and I’d like to keep being your friend. But more than that? I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”
He tipped up my chin with a gentle finger. “Why not? You just said you care about me. And I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” His finger traced the side of my face, my mouth . . .
Desire rose in my body like a sweet hunger. My heart was beating so fast I was sure he could feel it. But I pulled back slightly and turned my head away, watching the streetlights sparkle on the water below, trying to recover so I could say what I wanted to say. “I . . . I’ve got a lot of things to figure out right now, Lee. I’m still married, you know—” I heard a brief snort from Lee and knew he was probably rolling his eyes. “Let me finish, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“The family thing—me, Philip, and the boys—it’s complicated right now.” I knew Lee didn’t understand that. As far as he was concerned, divorce was the only option, the sooner the better, and I had all the cards in my favor. Scratch Philip from the picture. Done. Move on. But funny thing, Philip and I had never once talked about divorce. Maybe we would’ve by now, if the crisis about his gambling debts, shady loans, and physical threats hadn’t overwhelmed the situation.
“But that’s not all.” I turned to face him. “Something new has been happening in my life, Lee. I grew up in church but let my faith drift for most of my adult life, for several reasons. But God has become an important part of my life again. Not just God, but Jesus. The whole Christian thing. Reading the Bible, praying. Church too. I need to be with other Christians so I don’t drift away again.” My eyes searched his face. “Can you understand that, Lee? I can’t be part of a relationship where God’s not the main thing—”
“Gabby . . . Gabby.” Lee smiled, laugh lines crinkling beside his light brown eyes. “It’s fine! It’s all good. I would never stand in the way of something so personal as your faith. Just because God and I aren’t on chummy terms, there’s no reason why—uh-oh, here it comes!”
Large raindrops plopped onto the hood of my raincoat and the end of my nose. Lee laughed, popped open his big umbrella, and pulled me beneath its shelter, his arm holding me close. And the next thing I knew he was kissing my eyes, the tip of my wet nose, my mouth . . .
Oh, it felt so good to be wanted! To be loved. Letting go, I leaned into his embrace, kissing him back.
chapter 31
Oh, dear Lord, what have I done?
Lee and I barely talked on the way home. I’m sure my actions confused him, but I kept my face turned toward the passenger-side window, streaming with rain, as if the heavens were shedding the tears bottled up inside me. When we got to the six-flat, Lee didn’t ask to come in, just walked me up the steps and into the foyer, brushed his lips on my cheek and murmured, “I’ll call you,” before darting through the rain back to his car.
I kept myself together long enough to chec
k on the boys. Dandy didn’t even raise his head when I peeked into the room, probably hoping I wouldn’t notice he was lying on Paul’s bed, not beside it. I ignored dog-on-bed and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. But later, alone in my bedroom at the back of the apartment, the sobs finally convulsed my body, wetting the pillow with a torrent of tears. Oh God! My heart cried out into the darkness of my room. I just need . . . I want someone to love me! And I want someone to love! Is that so wrong? Is it that important not to be “unequally yoked,” as the Bible puts it? Lee said he’d never stand in the way of my faith . . . he’s kind and thoughtful . . . maybe we could make it work . . .
As my sobs subsided, my mind started sorting through the rational possibilities. If Lee and I were a couple, maybe he’d start coming to church with me. I could be a good influence on him, bring him to God. But of course I’d have to divorce Philip first . . . give the boys time to get used to another man in my life . . .
But even as I toyed with the possibilities, I found it hard to put them into a prayer. Argh! Grabbing my pillow, I threw it across the room with such force it knocked something off my dresser, which fell to the floor with a crash.
Uh-oh. Turning on the lamp on the nightstand, I got out of bed, retrieved my pillow, and reached for the object on the floor.
The framed photo I’d taken from Philip’s study when I’d moved my things out of the penthouse. Philip and me on our fifth wedding anniversary, cake smudges on our noses, me tossing my halo of red-gold curls as I laughed up at him mischievously. Unbroken.
Bringing the picture closer to the light, I gazed at it a long time. In the photo, Philip was looking at me with the same look of adoration Lee had had on his face tonight. Loving me, laughing with me, enjoying me.
I gently set the picture down on the nightstand again, turned out the light, and crawled back under the covers, clutching the pillow. My heart twisted. Oh God, I want Philip back! I want to be a whole family again! We loved each other once—couldn’t we love each other that way again?