Alice's Summertime Adventure

by Suzanne Jenkins

  The night before he’d switched the seat of the bike out, and the new one was spacious and padded, and had a sturdy support bar in the back that she could lean up against. He still wanted her to hold on to either the handles or his waist, which she did intermittently. They stayed in nice hotels along the way, always with twin beds. She was surprised the first night when he walked out of the bathroom dressed in regular men’s pajamas and curled up on his side like a child. It was disarming, and sort of creepy. But he was so kind to her and so generous, paying for their rooms and meals, offering to buy her souvenirs. And he was right about the bike. The new seat was comfortable, and although her skin was taking a beating, the ride wasn’t bad at all, and she was never bored. But by the time they got to Santa Fe, she was ready to get off the bike. It was hot, hotter than New Jersey, but not humid. New Jersey could be like a jungle in the summer, but this heat was like an oven. She couldn’t wait to get into air-conditioning.

  Once Vicky got word out to the children that their mother was okay, Dave’s phone didn’t stop ringing. First April called, livid, screaming at her mother at the top of her lungs. “I almost killed my boys going through a stop sign! Mother, what are you thinking? I can’t imagine you taking off like that without giving us a thought.”

  “April, I am so sorry. I just wasn’t thinking,” Alice said, contrite.

  “No, you weren’t. Now what’s going to happen?” April asked, thinking her mother would go to the closest airport and get on a plane for New Jersey.

  “Nothing. I’m going to continue on our trip, and if you want to see me when I get home, we’ll arrange a visit. After my last trip to Deptford, my days of coming to you might be over,” Alice said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. But it still doesn’t give you an excuse to run off to wherever you are with a stranger,” April replied. “Everyone here is worried sick.” A slight exaggeration.

  “Oops! I have to go, dear, so long! Talk to you soon.” Alice hung up before her daughter could say good-bye, a new tactic that was working well for her. The call was followed by one from John, who was angry, and then Faye.

  Faye made it clear that she thought her mother was acting like a spoiled child or, worse, a whore. “Allowing a stranger to pick you up on the side of the road like a common streetwalker,” were her exact words.

  Alice had to laugh out loud; Dave hadn’t made one move toward her. And she was grateful for it, in no hurry to begin a romance with him.

  Dave took the long way to Santa Fe, a circuitous route through Illinois, traveling on the near defunct Route 66. They drove past ancient gas stations and boarded-up souvenir shops, faded signs for Stuckey’s and Crystal Caves. Every two hours, or if they reached a decent-looking rest stop, he’d pull off the road for a stretch or a bathroom break. When she’d come out, he’d be waiting for her, sometimes with a gift: pecan logs or fudge, or an imitation Indian doll, made in Taiwan. Both of them were gaining weight, having homemade pie with every meal. Lunch for Alice was homemade meatloaf or a turkey club sandwich with french fries, as good as a Jersey diner, the vegetarian meals of Fenwick Island forgotten.

  “I don’t remember ever eating this much food,” she said. “Maybe when I was a teenager.”

  He was interested in her life as a mother, asking her detailed questions about her pregnancies and deliveries. “If you don’t mind talking about it,” he said. They’d talk and finally he’d glance at his watch. “I guess if we’re ever going to get there, we better leave.” They’d reluctantly get up and stretch, he’d put his arm around her shoulder, and they’d walk out together.

  The night they reached Santa Fe, he pulled up in front of a small adobe hotel, the doors so low she thought he might have to duck to walk through. But it was just an illusion. Flipping the light switch on, the bulb cast a yellow glow over the room. Her eyes went right to the bed; it was a double mattress. After sleeping on her queen sized at home, the double looked really small. She looked up at him as he put the saddlebags down and went to the window to switch on the air conditioner.

  “Don’t worry. I’m an old pro at sleeping in an armchair,” he said to reassure her.

  “No way! I will,” she said.

  “Ah, I don’t think so! Don’t worry about it. I can get a cot,” he said and, good to his word, got the cot, and they slept apart for another night. But this time, before he tucked her in, he kissed her on the mouth. His mouth was fresh and cold, like he’d just brushed his teeth. Alice had forgotten what a kiss was, and what it was capable of. She felt weak in the knees. She would have allowed more, but he stopped before he lost control, and pulled away, smiling at her.

  The next day they went to the sale. It was a huge old house in the center of Santa Fe, loaded with family heirlooms. Dave arranged for a freight company to crate and ship his purchases. There was nothing for Alice to do but sit back and watch, or stay at the hotel. She was afraid to get too comfortable there; the need to never return home was growing stronger the longer she was away. She found a place on the wide, shady porch to sit with her back up against the brick wall and wait for him while he shopped. The heat was different in Santa Fe; there was a strong breeze, and she could feel her eyes and lips drying out. She closed her eyes and tucked her lips in, and before she knew it, someone was shaking her gently awake.

  “You were crying out,” Dave said softly. He’d squatted down alongside of her and was offering her a drink from a plastic water bottle. The water was lukewarm, but it refreshed her.

  “Can’t believe I fell asleep out here,” she said, embarrassed. “What time is it?”

  “I’m almost finished up,” he said. “We’ll go someplace special for dinner tonight.” He stood up and tugged on his pant legs, straightening the seams. He was so neat.

  She put her head back against the brick, hugging her shoulders. He was so thoughtful about everything. Her comfort and modesty, making sure they went to eat on time so she was never hungry. But there was that certain something about him that wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

  It reminded her of a boy from another high school she’d dated briefly. He was handsome, but the only word she could use to describe him was goofy. He was like a ten-year-old in a sixteen-year-old body. Later in the week an acquaintance told her he was a special education student. She felt guilty about not wanting to see him again; it had nothing to do with being ashamed about dating him, but it was like she was going out with a friend of her younger brother. She was angry with herself for not trusting her instinct that there was something wrong. Dave was definitely different. She was sure of it. She shook her head to rid it of these thoughts, standing up as he walked toward her. It was time to leave.

  Chapter 7

  John Bradshaw was exhausted. He was pushing forty, had worked like a dog for the past fifteen years, was finally making high six figures if he got the call time he needed, and was never more unhappy.

  Beth knew he was teetering on a precipice that might take him away from her if she wasn’t vigilant, so she worked twice as hard at taking care of him. She was patient and kind with him, not taking his behavior personally, which was difficult. But she felt like she was having some success. She gently included him in the children’s activities and didn’t try to make him feel guilty when he declined. The family was used to his ridiculous hours, so when the time came for after-school sporting events and milestones like driver’s education and junior prom, they didn’t expect him to be there. Dad was just never around. But Beth was getting worried because he seemed distant emotionally now, not just physically. He used to call her continuously when he was gone during the weekend on call, and when they started texting, kept a running dialogue with her. Until last month.

  She’d never suspected he was cheating on her until she accidently saw his phone one recent night; he’d come home late from a case, she thought, and put his phone down with his other things, keys and money clip and wallet, and went into their shared bathroom. Beth could hear the shower go on. T
he phone buzzed, and she got out of bed to look at the lit-up face in case he was being summoned for another emergency. There, as clear as daylight, was a message from Karen. Beth knew Karen from the hospital. She was an OR nurse who worked with John. She was young, thirty at the most, and gorgeous. Beth was never threatened by her and went along with the other colleagues of John’s, teasing her about her obvious innocence and why she’d stoop to nursing when she could’ve been an underwear model. Gossip said the doctors were protective of her, and when cases that were gory crossed their threshold, she was often given the option of switching assignments with other nurses. It was her readiness to do her part that endeared her to the staff. Everyone loved Karen. And it appeared John was loving her in more than a platonic way. The heat started in Beth’s chest and spread up through her neck and face.

  I can smell you on me, she read. Get in touch as soon as you can. I need to tell you more.

  “Oh, fuck,” Beth said out loud. She pushed the button on the phone that would allow her to reply.

  I can smell you on me, too, Beth typed. I probably won’t call tonight. I’ll be fucking my wife. She heard the shower turn off and quickly deleted the messages. Karen would get the reply, but John wouldn’t see them. He’d be none the wiser. She hopped back into bed. Just as he walked out of the bathroom, his phone buzzed again. He went to his dresser and picked it up. Beth was dying to know what it said. In her passion, she hadn’t thought of what would happen if Karen texted back. John looked guiltily over at her, but she pretended to sleep, her heart pounding in her chest. He tiptoed out of their room. She strained to listen; he was going into the hallway bathroom. She got up and sprinted to their bathroom; unfortunately, sounds from that room often filtered into this room through the heating ducts. Tonight she’d make use of it. After she shut and locked the door, she squatted down on the floor with her ear to the grate, but could only hear mumbling, with what sounded like whispered laughter. She flushed the toilet and got back into bed before he returned; she was sure there would be a showdown. But oddly, he didn’t say a thing. Lying facing him, he got into bed and didn’t even look at her. No wonder the guy was tired! He was busy working around the clock, and now it looked like he might be canoodling, too. She didn’t know what to do. Rolling over in bed, she tried to imagine life without him. What if he left her for the adorable Karen? A quick glimpse of John humping Karen flitted through her mind, but she banished it. What good would it do? She wanted to keep her marriage intact. Giving him an ultimatum or throwing a tantrum wouldn’t work for her. She knew him well. He hated histrionics. With his mother’s latest mess and the pressure of their son Jason getting ready for college in the fall, she thought the best way to deal with Karen was to ignore it for the time being. It would be character building not to jump on him right that second and beat the hell out of him. Or slash the tires of his goddamned Mercedes that he just had to have. She thought it might be healthy to imagine instead the ways she’d get even with him, losing ten pounds and having her boobs lifted and calling his old high school friend, Alan. She pretended to call him on the phone, went through the antics of dialing his number and leaving a message for him to call her back. She’d use the excuse that she needed to talk to him about John having an affair. Surely he knew. She’d get him to admit it, and then she’d cry on his shoulder. It would move toward a passionate kiss, then stripping the clothes off of each other, and finally, coupling. But what if he was horrible? She didn’t want to piss John off for nothing. No, she wouldn’t choose Alan. She’d go after an anesthesiologist, someone John admired who had a lot of money. Money was key. Ben Friedman always flirted with her at parties. Or Fred Steinberger, the senior partner. He was richer than Roosevelt. She’d have to close her eyes to make love to him; he was seventy years old, for God’s sake. No, he was too cheap to be a sugar daddy, and she was too old. He’d want someone younger. Someone like Karen. So she was back to square one.

  She carefully got out of bed so as not to disturb John and tiptoed to his dresser to get his phone. Taking it out to the hall bathroom, she pushed the button to see what Karen’s reply was. Holding her breath, it took a few minutes for the meaning of it to sink in.

  I love you, too. I’ll pretend I’m fucking my husband. I can hardly wait for next weekend! Hurry and tell Beth!

  ~ ~ ~

  Todd Cabrini backed his tow truck into the driveway of his modest house in Deptford. They’d gotten a real deal on it, a small, cement block structure on a half acre of wooded ground for $110,000. Houses in this neighborhood were selling for four times that much. In the past five years they gutted the entire first floor. April had a new, upscale kitchen and bathroom, and a full finished basement. They turned the basement into a dorm for the boys, with two sets of bunk beds so there was always room for one of their cousins to spend the night, a full bath, laundry room and den. Upstairs was tight: the kitchen, a tiny sitting area and their bedroom. But April never complained. They made the decision early on that she would be a stay-at-home mom, which meant keeping their housing costs down. Next on the agenda was to put a second story on the house; it would contain their master suite. The ground floor could be gutted again and be one big open area.

  Todd’s business was booming. He’d recently added a third truck, one that could handle semi rigs. He had a full-time mechanic on staff and two other drivers. Life was about as good as it could get. His father bought a big fishing boat, a twin engine model that would allow them to go deep-sea fishing, so this summer was busier than usual. And the best part was that the men in his family got together and decided now was the time to buy a place down the shore. Everyone wanted to be near Atlantic City. If they all chipped in, they could get a bigger place, closer to the water. A realtor friend of theirs found a four-bedroom, two-bath duplex on the bay side, but within walking distance to the ocean beach. It was perfect. He was going to surprise April that night. On the front seat next to him lay a dozen red roses tied up with a big satin ribbon. He’d also made reservations for dinner at Bento Sushi. It was April’s favorite place to eat. His sister, Rose, was coming over at seven to babysit. All April had to do was put lipstick on and she was beautiful. The front door was open, and he could hear April’s voice as she spoke on the phone; from the way it sounded, she was admonishing her mother. Todd remembered he’d opened a can of worms when he found Alice’s car; someone must have discovered where she was. He hoped it wouldn’t thwart his plans for the surprise. She hung the phone up when she saw Todd with the bouquet.

  “Oh, is that beautiful!” she said, going to him and kissing him on the cheek. He handed the flowers over to her and took her by the shoulders for a real kiss. He smelled vodka and peppermint, toothpaste and breath mints. It was an age-old problem. Would he admonish her tonight and start a fight? Or look the other way and take her out to dinner? It seemed as though nothing he could do made a difference. His family practically owned the town of Deptford, and there was no way he could go to an Al Anon meeting. He just hoped she hadn’t been driving while she was high.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, holding her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. They were bright and clear. If she’d been drinking, it was earlier, and she’d be ready for another soon. “Get your dancing shoes on, wife. We’re going out on the town.”

  “What about the boys?” she said, opening the cupboard above the refrigerator where she kept vases stored.

  He explained his plans, how he’d covered all the bases.

  “Okay! Sounds great.”

  He went into their bedroom to shower and change, and when she was sure he wasn’t coming out right away, she got a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. Not going to the trouble to get a glass, she unscrewed the top and took a big slug right from the bottle. It was in this posture, with her legs firmly planted on the ground and her hips slung forward with her head tipped back, that Todd found her.

  “Jesus Christ, April, can’t you wait until we get to the restaurant?” He was standing in the doorway to t
he bedroom with a towel around his waist.

  She leaned forward so not to dribble from the bottle neck and gave an involuntary giggle. “Oops, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think you would mind if I had a small one.”

  “Well, get a glass and enjoy it, will you?” He turned and went back to his shower. He wanted to tell her to forget dinner; he wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with someone who probably wouldn’t remember half of what he said. It had happened before. When he got his second tow truck, he did the same thing, taking her to dinner and showering her with flowers and candy, and the next day when he pulled up to show her their new addition, she swore she couldn’t remember him telling her about it. She did as he said and got a glass out, pouring two ounces. By the time they got to the restaurant, she’d be tipsy, and after drinking through dinner, would remember little of the surprise of a Jersey shore house.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bill Vasiglio came home to have lunch with his dad almost every day. He always called first to let Faye know what time he’d be there and ask if she wanted him to pick up hoagies. On this day, he called her to say he’d arrive around one, but then got a call from a client he’d been courting for months; she was ready to sign a contract for a major gut job of her house in Cherry Hill. He was going to meet her and her husband after dinner, and he’d take the afternoon to get everything ready. He called Faye and apologized.

  “That’s okay, I can make him a bite to eat,” she said.

  And then the client called and cancelled; they rescheduled for the next evening instead. Bill got in his car, happy to be going home to see his wife and father. He was so happy he could do something for his dad. He’d moved in to Bill and Faye’s spacious house to be closer to his grandchildren. He was a virile, handsome man for his age and often pestered Bill about his weight and lack of exercise. Bill loved having him there. With Faye, their five growing children, and his dad, the house was always filled with excitement and activity. Faye was respectful and attentive to his father, as it should be in an Italian family. So on the day Bill came home unexpectedly, he wasn’t surprised when he walked in to find his father sitting at the kitchen table in their ostentatious kitchen, complete with commercial appliances, marble countertops and custom-designed lighting. His father was wearing a white terry cloth bathrobe, which struck Bill as odd right away. And then he noticed Faye was dressed in the same thing. Bill had never seen the robe. Both of them had wet hair.