“It would feel more secure if you put your arms around my middle,” he said. It was more comfortable, too. Alice held on to him as he sped up on the shoulder and eased into traffic. She slumped into his back, conscious of her breasts against his leather jacket. The heat and exhaust from the cars reminded Alice of a day in her youth when she and Doug were driving on the same highway in a convertible with the top down. She closed her eyes as the rare memory flooded over her. Her life had been so predictable, with its lonely existence and boring job, her demanding, ungrateful children and bleak prospects for her future. She never thought of her past. Now, on the back of a motorcycle with a younger man she was attracted to, she remembered the Alice who used to be. That Alice loved life. She wanted adventure and all the trappings. Alice wanted to go to college and to travel, and somehow she’d taken what she now knew to be the easy way. She’d floated along with the tide, doing what was expected of her. After Doug died, his wealthy family abandoned her, and although she had his social security for all four kids, it wasn’t enough. His family held the mortgage to her cottage, and those payments were expected each month. Working on the family farm precluded life insurance, and once his paycheck stopped coming in, so did his benefits. Alice shivered at the memory of taking John to the ER for stitches one evening two months after Doug died, and discovering that she had no health insurance. She was young, the newly widowed mother of four, and concerns like health insurance hadn’t set in yet.
So although she barely made enough hourly wages to make the trip to HoJos worthwhile, the tips were great and health insurance was provided for her family. Once the kids were in school, the boss allowed her to arrange her schedule so she was home when they were. Although her situation sounded desperate, she surprised everyone when she made it seem so easy to be a young, single, working mother. Everything came together for her, as long as she kept it simple.
Now on the back of this motorcycle, she knew she needed to make some changes. The altercation with Faye and April would force her to. She couldn’t go on as she had before, working with no relaxation on her days off but visits with children who didn’t like her all that much anyway. Not a goal setter, she wondered what it would feel like to have something to work toward?
When the road sign for her exit came up, Alice tapped his shoulder and pointed. He made the turn and asked her for directions. As they approached the farm, her little white house in the middle of the blueberry field, she pointed again. He slowed down and made the right-hand turn onto the dirt driveway, at least a half mile of it leading to her house. Farm workers lined both sides of the field, gently working at harvesting what was left of the berries after the equipment had come through. It wasn’t cost effective to pay for the berries to be picked, so the workers were given their harvest to sell for their own profit in return for picking. From time to time, one of them would come by and knock on her door, asking for water or to use the bathroom, sometimes persistent when she refused to give them entrance. So she bought a gun, and although she couldn’t carry it in the state of New Jersey, she could keep it in her house for protection. It didn’t escape her that she thought of the gun and where it was kept as the stranger pulled up to her house.
Carefully getting off the bike, she didn’t know how an hour of bouncing around with her legs spread apart was going to affect her gait, she took her time straightening up as she pulled his helmet off. He turned the bike off and stood, letting it lean to the side of the kickstand, hesitant about whether he was going to stay for a moment or turn around and take off right away.
“Thank you very much,” Alice said. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee?”
He looked at his watch, not to check if he had time to visit. He didn’t drink anything with caffeine after four. It amused her that he was careful about his diet.
“Yes, that’d be great,” he said. Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Dave Jensen, by the way. I should have introduced myself back at your car.”
Alice laughed, thinking how trusting and stupid she was, to have gotten on the back of a motorcycle belonging to a man whose name she didn’t know. Oh well.
“Alice Bradshaw,” she said, taking his hand that was thin and long fingered; he held hers in a strong grip. She could feel how powerful he was, and allowed her hand to linger in his beyond what a normal handshake would last. They let go of each other. She started up the two steps to the porch and got the keys out of her purse. Although her house was neat as a pin, she still felt compelled to apologize because of its shabby furnishings after April’s insults that morning. And Beth pointed out every time she came over that the house smelled moldy. As she pushed the door open, the waft of musty air rushed out at her. “Sorry about the house. There’s a moldy smell.” As she walked through the open room to the kitchen area, she felt her cheeks burning. Why’d I say that? she thought and then remembered that no one but her children and her sisters had been in the house in, How long? Ten years?
“Your air conditioner probably needs a little cleaning,” he said. “Where is it?”
She pointed up. It was on the roof.
“Well, that figures, then. It’s a swamp cooler. Do you have a ladder?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted this stranger on her roof fixing her air conditioner, but she pointed to the side of the house. “It’s in the shed,” she said, hesitating.
“Don’t worry; I used to do this for a living.” He went outside, and she could hear him banging around; she put a pot of coffee on. Opening cupboards, she wished she had something to offer him besides the coffee, but there wasn’t anything worthy of company. As she puttered, setting out milk and sugar, she thought how bizarre this was; she’d left her car on the side of the road, accepted the help of a stranger and ridden on the back of his motorcycle, and now he was on her roof. She imagined the voice of her son admonishing her for being careless, and her daughters, jealous of the attention given her by a man. A memory surfaced of her daughter Faye’s father-in-law, widowed for five years, vying for her attention all through preparations for Easter dinner last spring, and the fight which ensued between Faye and her husband, Bill.
“It’s disgusting! Your father needs to back off,” she said, whispering.
Her husband laughed, but was firm. “My dad’s a big boy, and I don’t see your mother running away from him,” he said. “I think you’re jealous he’s not fawning all over you like he usually does.”
It must have hit a nerve, because in the next moment, Alice heard a door slam, and Bill came back out to the family room, stony and silent. Faye didn’t reappear until it was time to take the ham out of the oven, but she’d taken the time to freshen up a little bit, putting on lipstick and combing her hair. Alice felt awful. Was her daughter really jealous of her? She observed Faye in the months following that ill-fated dinner. Last month they went to the hardware store together, and Faye pushed her out of the way when a salesman came to help them load a grill into their cart. It was perverse, a daughter being jealous of her mother. She went out of her way to avoid any situation that might make Faye jealous. Alice knew Faye would be mad if she found out about Dave.
The door to the shed opened, and she heard sounds of things being moved around, and then Dave returned to the kitchen. “All’s well,” he said. “There is a little nozzle at the bottom of the unit which was clogged, and the water was stagnating. I stuck a wire through it, and now it’s draining.” He stood until Alice pointed to a chair.
“Have a seat. Thank you for fixing the clog. How much do I owe you?” she asked, feeling silly immediately afterward, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s on the house,” he answered. He looked around her kitchen as she poured coffee in his cup. “So this place looks like it’s about a hundred years old.”
“It must be,” Alice said. “It was old when I moved in more than thirty years ago.”
He took a sip of coffee and grinned. “Good coffee! Your kitchen is very comfortable.”
Alice remembered t
he stinging words of April just a few hours earlier.
“It’s going to be difficult for me to pry myself off this chair soon.”
She saw that he was relaxing while he drank the coffee. She drank some too, the awkwardness of the situation growing.
What was the point, really, of them chatting? Alice hated small talk, was terrible at it in spite of waiting on customers at the counter of the Howard Johnson’s, fine-tuning the art. He wasn’t going to order more to eat or leave her a tip, so the impetus of having to engage him was missing. Yet she felt compelled to get to know him better. The idea that she was interested in him was growing. She’d make the effort.
“So, where do you live, Dave Jensen?” she asked. “I need to catch up.”
He smiled that dimpled smile at her, and the feeling of something tugging at her chest returned. “Fenwick Island,” he answered. “Delaware. I have a little shop there.”
She frowned, holding her breath, hoping it wasn’t a head shop or an adults only place. She remembered seeing similar places along the stretch of highway that led to the beach towns of Delaware. “What do you sell?” she asked cautiously.
“It’s an antique shop,” he answered.
She tried not to visibly exhale.
“I was coming home from an estate sale in North Jersey when I ran into you. It was a good one, too. I’ll have a truck load of merchandise I bought delivered soon.”
She was trying to imagine him examining a box of dusty china or old furniture when the generalization that he must be gay flitted through her head. She decided she would get to know him if she could just because he was interesting and not for a possible romance. Then he asked her, “What do you do for a living?”
“I am, I was, a waitress at HoJos,” she said. “Lunch counter.”
Dave Jensen looked at her carefully. Is she pulling my leg? Fortunately, he didn’t respond with sarcasm. She was really a waitress at Howard Johnson’s.
“I didn’t get the waitress vibe from you,” he said teasingly.
She laughed. “I’ve been doing it a long time. It doesn’t sound very ambitious, but it fit my life at the time, and then when I could have done something else for a living, I didn’t have the energy.” She took a sip of coffee, trying to feel some warmth from the mug although it was ninety degrees outside. “Running an antique shop seems like a tough way to make a living,” she continued, hoping he’d elaborate, that he’d mention his age.
“My parents help out, and I have good sales people. That frees me up to go on buying trips. I’m getting ready to go west. Tomorrow, as a matter of fact. To Santa Fe.” And then, not sure himself if he was serious, he said the words that would change Alice’s life. “Want to go with me?”
It flustered her, the idea that he might be teasing her and because she suddenly wanted to go. She wanted to pack a few belongings and go off with the stranger.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
He smiled that smile. Oh boy, better be careful.
“Dead serious. It’s pretty nervy of me, I know,” he said.
But Alice was already planning. She’d leave the house unlocked so anyone who happened by could take what they wished. There was nothing in it that she needed or wanted. When she’d first gotten sick, her situation looked so dire, she’d gathered anything she had of value and made her kids divide it up. There were picture albums and Marlene’s wedding china that Vicky didn’t want. She had a very small collection of Doug’s personal items left; the stuff that had monetary value his mother and father took the week he died, saying she had no right to it. Of course, years later she knew it was wrong; she should have fought them, but she didn’t know any better, and there was no one to advocate for her at the time.
“I’d love to run off with you,” she said, coming back to the present. “I need an adventure. But you’re kidding, right? We don’t know each other. I could be a serial killer or a thief.” She tried to make light of it, a lilt to her voice, but she was dead serious too and wanted him to validate her.
“I’m not kidding. Pack up what you need, and let’s go. I have to run down to the shop first. We’ll spend the night, rest up for the long ride, and leave early in the morning.”
Alice noticed that he was bright-eyed and nervous, and then it occurred to her that he could be a serial killer or a bank robber.
“I’m tired of being alone. You don’t have a husband who loves you and might try to kill me, do you?” he asked nervously, pretending to look for a phantom husband.
She laughed and shook her head. “No, he’s been dead a long time. I’m tired of being alone, too,” she said, getting up to pour more coffee. “You should probably know that I had cancer. I thought I was going to die last year; they told me to go home and get my affairs in order, and then it just went away. Just like that, I’m not sick anymore. All of my scans are clear or clean or whatever the right word is. My kids are all pissed off at me; they think I did it on purpose, getting sick and making them all worry.”
“How many do you have?” he asked. “Kids, I mean.”
“Four. And eleven grandchildren. Do you have any? Kids, I mean.”
“No,” he said. “Never been married. And I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re thinking because of the shop and all.”
“It never crossed my mind,” she lied. “But how old are you? I’m a little old for you, aren’t I?”
“I’m forty. You can’t be much older than that. I think we will be good travel companions. I’m serious. If you can get away, come with me.” He was looking at her eagerly, hopefully. It didn’t ring true; why would someone who was his age want an older tagalong? He could see her doubt and stood up, offering his hand.
“Ms. Bradshaw, would you do me the honor of being my companion for the summer? I like the way you look, the way you talk, and the way you carry yourself. If that’s not enough, well, I don’t know what more to say. If I decide I don’t like the woman you are, I’ll put you on a bus back to New Jersey. Is that a deal?” It sounded pretty straightforward. She owed John and Beth and her sister Vicky an explanation, but Faye and April could get their information about her whereabouts secondhand. She might let all of them worry about her for a while.
“Yes, against my better judgment, I’m going with you. I just hope you won’t kill me,” Alice said.
“Welcome to my world!” Dave replied. “You’ll be behind me, so I’m the vulnerable one.”
“I hardly think I’d kill someone who was driving the motorcycle I’m sitting on,” Alice said, laughing.
“Well, get your things together. You can bring whatever fits in one of the saddlebags,” Dave said.
Alice stood up from the table and took her coffee cup to the sink. The comments of April still stung, and she wanted to make sure the house was tidy when they came looking for her. “Do you want any more coffee before I clean the pot out?”
“Go get ready, and I’ll clean up here,” Dave offered, anxious to leave. He squirted dish detergent into the sink and started cleaning up Alice’s kitchen. She went to her room to pack, grabbing six pairs of underpants, a sweatshirt and pants for sleeping, and a pair of shorts and blouse. It folded into a neat square. There would still be room for her makeup bag and brush. Hopefully, he had a hair dryer she could use. She looked down at her feet; sandals wouldn’t do on the bike for the long ride to Fenwick, so she put them in with her other clothes and put on a pair of sneakers. She slipped her shorts off and put on a pair of jeans. There, she thought, all body parts covered. She stuffed everything into a small vinyl bag she’d had since the kids were babies, including her gun and journal and a small, ceramic owl for good luck. Alice took one last look around her bedroom. She didn’t know if she’d be coming back to it or not, if she’d even live to return. If ever she was living in the moment, it was now. She looked in the mirror and took one last swipe through her hair before she put the helmet back on. To her reflection she said, “Your motto is Skate through life.”
“Let’s go,”
she said to Dave Jensen.
He was watching her walk out of her room, and everything about her burned into his brain; she was physically exactly what he liked, but more than that, she’d proven herself someone who could be adventuresome in the extreme. And that was right up his alley. He needed that excitement to keep from dwelling in the shadow of the antique shop, cobwebs and dust settling over him.
Chapter 4
The summers when children are small seem to last forever. Sisters April Cabrini and Faye Vasiglio got together at least once a week with their children for a day trip to the Jersey shore. They liked the beaches at Atlantic City; they were free and easy to get to, with plenty of inexpensive places to eat, and clean public bathrooms. They’d meet near Folsom and pile into Faye’s Escalade for the rest of the trip. Never once did they think to ask their mother to come along.
“Traffic is awful today,” Faye complained as she made room for three more car seats. “Do you think you can stay for dinner? I would really like to avoid rush hour coming home.”
April carried her cooler from her trunk, shoving it into the back. “I guess so,” she answered. “I’ll have to let Todd know, though. He probably won’t be home for dinner anyway. He’s been working late a lot.”
Faye looked over at her sister, not hiding a smirk.
“It’s not what you think.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Faye said.
“Well, divorce is not an option,” April replied. “I don’t want my boys growing up like we did.”
“I hear ya,” Faye said. They got April’s boys buckled in to the seats.
“Let’s continue this conversation another time.” April nodded her head toward their children. It seemed like once they started bashing their mother, they couldn’t stop. Neither daughter was at a place in their own lives where they could have compassion for Alice; they were both so unhappy, she was a perfect scapegoat for every bad decision they’d made. Faye turned the radio on so they wouldn’t be tempted to bring up the subject again, singing along with the children. When they arrived in Atlantic City, they staked out their claim on a great piece of beach and set up camp, with umbrellas, chairs and blankets, even a table for food and drinks. Now that the children were older, the women could sit under the umbrella for hours and solve the problems of the world.
Alice's Summertime Adventure Page 3