Alice's Summertime Adventure

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I want to try a separation. I’m going to move out this weekend. There’s a hotel on Route 47 that has executive apartments they let on a weekly basis. It will be close enough for me to help out with driving if need be.” He thought that was more than enough information for her to process. Almost afraid to look over at her, he was careful not to put his coffee too close to her; Faye was known to flip a cup of coffee out of a drinker’s hand with such precision that it would fly into the sink without spilling. He took a subtle breath and turned to her. The smirk was gone, replaced with a tight-mouthed frown, her nose pinched, the veins in her temples standing out, the pulse beating visibly.

  “Just like that,” she said. “You get to move out just like that, leave it all to me.”

  He tossed the coffee out the window, beating her to the punch. “You can leave if you want. I just know we aren’t staying under the same roof any longer. I thought it would be easier for me to leave because I don’t give a shit about all that crap you’ve collected in the house. All the knick-knacks and flower arrangements and pictures. That’s all your stuff. But hey, if you want to leave it, go for it.” He was steaming now, too. He wondered how they would get through this without killing each other.

  “No, you’re right. It’s my stuff. I hunted it down. Every last piece of it.” She turned to look at him. “I don’t get it. Why did you wait until now? The day my sister kills her kid, then you’re going to lay this on me. Your timing sucks, Bill.”

  “No, you’re right. My timing does suck. I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve walked out right after I caught you fucking my dad.”

  Faye gasped.

  “Do you know what he told me? And if he had the balls to tell me, he probably told my brothers and their wives, and everyone who would listen over at his Elks Club. He told me that my wife sure knows how to give head. ‘Boy, that redhead sure can suck a dick.’ Yeppers, my daddy said that to my face. Just last week. It might have been the final straw, I can’t be sure. Seeing you slip off his dick and hop naked in the air like you did, almost like a gymnast it was, when I walked in on ya, that should’ve done it. I must just like the torture.”

  Faye screamed and put her head in her hands, sobbing. “I’m sorry! That’s awful. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. Don’t say anymore. I don’t blame you for leaving me. Honest to God, Bill, let’s not fight anymore. I get it! I don’t know how you stayed as long as you did.”

  She was heaving, and he didn’t want her to get hysterical, so he handed her a napkin from the Wawa and grabbed her shoulder. He didn’t want to hold her, just in case she was hoping they’d get by this moment. He might have said he wanted a separation, but what he really wanted was a divorce. His father had given him enough information to ruin her in a court of law. And although he didn’t have to do it, Faye would be looking for a job real soon. And the beloved house would be put up for sale. She would live a modest life without him.

  When she’d calmed down somewhat, he reached down to start the ignition. They didn’t say much on the way home. When he pulled off the turnpike, she finally asked the most important question.

  “What are we going to tell the kids? They don’t know anyone who’s had a divorce. I know that seems remarkable in New Jersey. None of their friends’ parents are divorced.” She blew her nose. Did the fact that her father wasn’t there when she was growing up have anything to do with her screwing Vinnie? Girlfriend, she thought, you’ll grasp at any straws to pass the blame.

  Bill shrugged his shoulders. “We just have to come out and tell them the truth. Not about you and my dad. I didn’t mean the intimate stuff. Just that we don’t love each other anymore.”

  Faye gasped again. “That’s just not true, Bill! I love you. I do,” she said.

  But he wasn’t having it and started laughing. “No one who has so little respect for another human being can say they love them. You might love me like you loved that pet iguana we had. I amused you. I gave you a nice house and great kids. That’s all you liked. You didn’t think I was smart enough to introduce to your friends from Penn. Don’t deny it. I noticed you never once invited me to any get-togethers they had, when all the other husbands went. You were ashamed of me. If not ashamed, embarrassed. I once heard you telling Junior I never went to college because I wasn’t college material.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Jesus, Bill, are you going to dissect every single thing I’ve said in the past twenty years? I just told him he had to go to school because he needed to work. You didn’t have to go because you already had a trade. Your dad taught you to build. You had carpentry. Bill doesn’t have that.”

  “He wasn’t interested,” Bill replied.

  Faye shook her head. She wasn’t going to drag the kids into their mess. “We need to show a unified front. If you can’t do that, I’ll tell them alone,” Faye said.

  Even though he was initiating the separation, Bill thought that might be the best way to do it. Ever the control freak, let her tell them whatever she wanted. As long as she didn’t bad-mouth him, he didn’t care what she said. He navigated the car through the streets of their subdivision.

  “We have to tell the kids about Douglas.”

  He nodded as he pulled the car behind Carol’s. They got out of the car and walked up to the gate.

  “After you,” Bill said, holding it open for her. It would be one of the last times they’d enter the house together for a long time.

  Chapter 14

  Lynn went back to the clinic for the results of her needle biopsy Thursday morning. The hair stylist wanted to go with her, but she discouraged him.

  “My brother might meet me. He works at the hospital. But thanks, anyway.” She said good-bye to him, shaking his hand. It was nice having him in her bed at night, her body needed the touch of a man, and it reminded her that she was human. But she wasn’t going to be one of those homeless women of the street who take up with a companion. She’d go back to a real life with a job and an apartment if she wanted that. The whole point in living on the street was so she could be alone.

  There was a different receptionist at the clinic. Lynn could tell she wasn’t used to working with the homeless and was afraid to look her in the eye. Lynn was sorry; the other woman was so kind and friendly. Oh well, it just goes to show you that you shouldn’t have any expectations about anything.

  Because she was there to get results, she didn’t have to wait in the long line that once again snaked around the outside of the building. The familiar medical assistant took her right back to the little exam room.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee while you wait? There’s a short back-up, but you should be out of here in about half an hour.”

  Lynn told her she’d had coffee with breakfast at the shelter that morning so didn’t need anything. The assistant asked her what they served, and when she told her pancakes, she said, “Yum! I’m making them for dinner tonight. Thanks for the idea! I hate having to come up with something different every night.”

  Lynn smiled, but didn’t know what to say. She’d never had to prepare a meal in her life. The idea was as foreign to her as anything she could imagine. The young woman was looking at Lynn expectantly. What would the proper response be?

  “Who are you making the pancakes for?” She didn’t look old enough to have a family, so maybe she was cooking for her mother.

  “My little boy. He’s just six next Saturday. He’ll love pancakes. Thank you again!” She smiled and left the exam room, shutting the door gently behind her. Lynn wondered how you even made a pancake. She sat at the counter at Howard Johnson’s for years watching her mother serve customers, never curious about the activity of the short-order cook behind the partition. He’d pass the plates of food over to Alice or place them on a shelf under a heat lamp. Someone knocked on the door to the exam room, and Lynn woke up out of her childhood revelry.

  “Miss Bradshaw,” the doctor said, reaching out a hand to shake Lynn’s. “Thank you for coming back today. Your report is here, and it’s
what we expected. You have cancer. The pathologist couldn’t determine exactly what we are dealing with because the sample was so small, so we’ll have to act as if it’s a fast-growing cancer and not take any chances. Hopefully, it will be in situ and easily treated.” She paused.

  Lynn thought about what she said. She had cancer. That was about all they knew.

  “So what next?” she asked. No point in getting herself into an uproar if the cancer was the type the doctor said was easily treated. There was a knock on the door, and when the doctor opened it, Lynn saw John peeking in the crack. “Oh. My brother.”

  The doctor opened the door wide enough for him to come through, and brother and sister embraced.

  “I have breast cancer,” she told him.

  He looked at the doctor. Lynn nodded her head to the doctor’s inquiring look. She repeated what she’d just said.

  “I’m an anesthetist over at the hospital. Do you mind if I ask a surgeon friend of mine to see her through this?” John asked.

  “Not at all. I’m happy Lynn has someone who cares about her involved. It’s difficult enough to navigate the waters without being alone,” the doctor said. She looked at the needle biopsy site and said good-bye, shaking Lynn’s hand.

  John walked out with Lynn, quiet, worried.

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Lynn said in response to his silence. She looked up at him. “As a matter of fact, what’s wrong? Now I’m getting frightened.”

  He grabbed her arm and then put his arm around her shoulders. “No, no, no, it’s nothing about you. I’m taking everything the doctor said at face value. I’ll speak to Dr. Fish and set up a biopsy for you in the OR.” They walked a way further.

  “Is it about Beth?” Lynn asked.

  John stopped and pulled her over to a doorway, out of the way of foot traffic. “April was in a car accident this morning. She’s fine, but Dougie was injured. He didn’t make it.” John had her by the shoulders, not knowing if she would bolt. She was looking into John’s eyes. Dougie. She remembered seeing pictures of him. He was her sister April’s oldest child. Named for their dad. Douglas.

  “How old was he?” Lynn asked.

  “Seven,” John answered. “Just seven.”

  Lynn closed her eyes. She remembered John when he was seven. He was the sweetest little boy. They would go frog hunting together, just the two of them. Faye would be out with the other grandparents, April would go with Aunt Vicky, and Lynn and John would be left to fend for themselves. They caught the frogs, but wouldn’t kill them. Lynn liked holding them in her hands, gently cupping them so she could feel their hearts beating and the air going in and out of their lungs. They’d make elaborate castles out of piles of rocks and clumps of sod, and put the frogs down so they could hop into the shelters.

  She opened her eyes. “I saw him when he was a baby. I was at Alice’s house.” It was one of the last times Lynn came to a holiday get-together. Lynn struggled for the memory of the baby, but could only remember April walking in wearing a white suit, holding the baby. “It was Easter. I remember now. April went to church with the new baby and then came to Alice’s house for dinner. Alice wore a yellow pants suit.” She stopped and looked out at the street.

  “Was April drunk?” Lynn asked.

  John shrugged his shoulders. “She had been drinking late at night. But not legally drunk,” he said. “Do you want to drive up to Deptford with me?”

  Lynn grimaced. “I don’t think so. Not today. Maybe if there’s a funeral. Why go today?” She frowned, trying to figure out why it made sense to go now.

  “Just to support April,” he explained. “I feel like we need to be there. Mother is getting on a plane in Chicago soon. We could go to Philadelphia to pick her up and then drive across the bridge to April’s.”

  Seeing Alice would not be a good thing, Lynn decided. “No, I don’t think so. Me being there would be too much of a distraction,” she said, smiling. “Try not to be too sentimental.”

  John had to agree she was probably right. “Well, we need to schedule your breast biopsy. Come with me, okay? We can find a quiet place to sit, and I’ll call my friend. You’ll like him, I think,” John said.

  As it turned out, John’s friend didn’t want to pull Lynn out of the system. She was a clinic patient and resident doctors would follow her. Her care might not be paid for if they interfered, and John wasn’t in a financial position to pay cash for everything she might need. Lynn was fine with the clinic. It was familiar, and it was close to the shelter.

  “Will you let me know when the funeral might be?” Lynn knew she needed to step out of her comfort zone for this one. In her craziness, she was lucid enough to see that she was being given a gift. Breast cancer, the awful news about her little nephew, John getting his own place and inviting her in; it was an opportunity for growth. She could take it and see what the outcome might be, or she could spend the rest of her life walking up and down DuPont.

  “Where can I find you?” he asked, concerned.

  That was a tough one. She looked around the area, keeping her eyes low. It was too scary to see what lurked above her head, the parking garages and a burned-out apartment building, glass office structures and overflowing trash dumpsters.

  “I’ll either be at the clinic or at the shelter on Third. You can leave a message for me at the shelter.”

  John was happy she was going to try to stay indoors. He could see the changes she was trying to institute. Hopefully, they’d be permanent.

  He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Okay, I should hear something today regarding the funeral arrangements. Call me if they schedule your biopsy.”

  John walked away from his sister without turning back. He’d signed out at work when the news about Doug came to him from a hysterical Faye, and he knew he’d be unable to practice safely with all of it on his mind. His mother’s plane didn’t land for another four hours, so he was going to look at an apartment in Wilmington. It would be difficult living in the congestion of the city after being cloistered out in New Jersey on the Delaware River.

  Beth was barely speaking to him. He couldn’t be sure if she was hurt and angry that he was leaving her, or pissed that her lifestyle might have to change. The big house meant nothing to him after how hard he’d worked to get it. The night before last, he’d gotten home late, as usual. He let himself in with a key through the garage door. Was she locking up because she was frightened now? Or trying to make it more difficult for him to get in? The house was neat, as usual, with just the light from the range hood on. In the breakfast room his son Brian and daughter, Amy, sat doing homework. They looked up when he walked in.

  “You guys are up late,” he said. His pile of mail was where Beth always put it, and he stood there to sort it out.

  “I’ve got a report due tomorrow,” Brian said.

  John looked up at him, pleased. Brian’s usual response would be sarcasm, so to get a straight answer out of him was nice.

  “Well, surprise, surprise! You spoke to me,” John said, smiling at Brian.

  But then Brian continued. “What should the proper response be when your asshole father gets caught fucking another woman and then asks your mother for a divorce.”

  “Brian!” Amy hollered. She started crying. “Really, dad? Really?”

  John was totally unprepared. How’d Beth know about “another woman,” and why would she tell their kids? He didn’t respond, but picked up his mail and walked to the back of the house to a small guest room he’d taken over. He went in and shut the door, tempted to lock it, but against what? He threw his mail down on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. In his head he went through the charade of the past weeks. Each day was getting more difficult; the lying to Beth was the worst. He didn’t hate her at all, just didn’t feel committed to her anymore. Pretending they had a future together was the worst; she wanted to talk about remodeling their master bathroom, and it was the last thing he cared about. The bathroom was fine, only six year
s old. It would be considered an expensive upgrade when they went to sell the house just the way it was. Or planning a vacation in a few weeks; it was the summer, after all, and they always did something. Although their house was a vacationer’s paradise, on a beautiful stretch of sandy cove with a deep water dock bordering a bird estuary, they still liked getting away for a week in August. But this year, he planned on spending his vacation with Karen in Bermuda. They were going to take a cruise ship out of Philadelphia and spend a week sailing around the islands. He could hardly wait. Karen was concerned his children would be upset if he didn’t spend it with them.

  “My kids barely tolerate me,” he confessed. “I’m just there for the money. Last year was a nightmare. We went to Stone Harbor, and Jason wrecked a wave runner I rented for him to the tune of $4,000, and then Beth got a bee sting that put her in the hospital for two days. Trust me; I doubt very much that the family is longing to get away with dear old dad. No, I am going to do what I want this year, and that’s a long, romantic cruise with you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  He’d meet the real estate agent before he went into Philly to pick his mother up from the airport. He had down-time he planned on using to visit Karen in her apartment after work. He rang the buzzer, and she ran down to open the door for him, throwing her arms around his neck and leading him into the vestibule of her apartment as their lips locked together. It appeared that Karen didn’t know about Dougie. It was just as well. It worked against the fantasy nature of their relationship to let reality in too often. An example of this was discovering Karen had a flat tire one night as they left the hospital together. It never crossed John’s mind to change it himself; he called AAA, left her with forty dollars to give the guy as a tip, and asked one of the orderlies they worked with to stay with her as he left for home. He didn’t need her sympathy or her concern.