“Yep. Next month, it’s ‘Lez Hang Out’ right here in the park, and for July we’re going to advertise a gender chat, probably in a room at the library. Lydia suggested an LGBT dog owner social group, but I suspect that she’d want the membership to consist of just you and her.”
“And Johnson. And Isabel. And wouldn’t that totally defeat the purpose? An LGBT subset with a hetero couple?”
“Oh, Lydia’s so not hetero.”
David grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Just when she wants to be.”
They walked for a few minutes in silence then, passing the Moose Lodge and jogging right on Second, making an uphill approach to The Restful Nook before turning onto Willow. The graceful stone Episcopal Church was on their left, the lowering sun framing it perfectly atop the rising hills behind it.
“So did she do it?” Genevieve asked.
“Did who… Oh, Janice? No. She was out of town when it happened. You didn’t see the Courier?”
“I did. I just didn’t read it. They lived together, right?”
“I’m not sure. He was certainly there often enough, but Ormsby – the detective – told me that only Janice’s name was on the lease.”
Genevieve had stopped walking. David pulled up as well, tugging the leash twice so Johnson wouldn’t throttle himself.
“Ormsby?” she asked, disbelief in her voice.
“Yeah. He managed to get himself quoted about a hundred times in the paper today. I told you about him yesterday, he’s the jerk who – ”
“You never mentioned his name, David. Not once.” Her face was tense, her words edged with what almost sounded to David like anger.
“So? Do you know him?” David was confused; what difference could his name possibly make?
“He was a friend of Todd’s,” Genevieve said tightly, and then she began to walk again, striding toward Third with efficiently determined steps.
For the second time in one evening, David scurried to catch up with her. “Really? Is that why he acted the way he did? Because of Todd?”
She didn’t respond, but kept walking.
“Hey!”
Nothing.
“Hey! Seriously, what’s the deal here?”
In a flash, she’d whirled and halted. “I just can’t get into it with you. Not again. I’m tired of it!”
“Wha –? But I didn’t bring it up, I didn’t even think of it that way!”
Her hands found her hips. “David, for something like eighteen months, it’s been Todd, Todd, Todd. Over and over! Do you even have the tiniest clue how many times you’ve brought him up?”
“But… That’s not fair! You wanted to talk about him, you wanted to tell me about it so I’d understand! Understand what you’d gone through, how you… How we – ”
Genevieve’s head was shaking back and forth, her lips mere slivers of whiteness amid the greater paleness of her face. David was glad he couldn’t smell the usual sweetness that wafted off of her. Cinnamon and brown sugar had no business in this very awkward, very public confrontation.
“I texted you to let you know I wanted some time to myself before I saw you tonight,” she enunciated rigidly. “I actually texted twice, the second time to see if you’d received the first.”
David’s hand fumbled toward a pocket. “I… er, I don’t even know if I have my phone on me.”
“You never have it on you! I get it, I get the whole unplugged thing you’re doing, but seriously, David. It’s annoying.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to – ”
“I know you don’t.” Genevieve stamped her foot, though not angrily. “But I wanted to call Jess, and she’s in a later time zone, as you know. And I’d hoped that after I talked to her a bit, I would have been calmer, ready to see you… and ready to be… nicer.”
David didn’t respond. Jess had been Genevieve’s best friend for years, though he’d never met her. They talked at least twice a week, usually for hours.
“I’m sorry, David. Can we just call it a night? Do you mind?”
YES he minded, but what was he going to do, protest and piss her off even more? “Is Jess ever going to visit?” he heard himself ask. “So I can meet her? So she can meet… me?” Genevieve had disclosed that Jess was her sounding board regarding all things David, and he was understandably concerned about all of the late night dissections at which he’d no doubt been present, despite the fact that one of the surgeons had never laid eyes on him.
Genevieve looked away, toward the Episcopal Church on the opposite side of the street. “One day. Maybe. We’ll have to see.”
David looked off to the side as well. Same answer as always. The enigmatic Jess held more sway over Genevieve in absentia than David had ever managed in person, even during the best periods of their relationship.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, trying to keep the plaintiveness out of his voice.
She nodded. “Yes. I can’t visit Abby until Sunday, can you tell her? Assuming you’re going, as always?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m going. It’s a nice change to have a male berate me once in a while.”
And at that, Genevieve laughed lightly. She stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, David. Tell Grandpa hi from me. And let’s have dinner. Tomorrow night, okay? You have fun in the square with Johnson, and I’ll… I’ll pull myself together. I promise.”
And then she was striding away down Willow as Johnson began pulling toward the center of the park, where squirrels and hillocks and other frolicsome canines awaited.
David sighed, and followed his dog.
Chapter Eight
The living room of David’s apartment appeared dim and dismal. It was 8:30 on a Friday night, and he knew that how he perceived his home was entirely due to his melancholy in regards to Genevieve. Up, down. On, off. Together, apart. This was the one clear constant in their relationship, the inconstancy regarding what their relationship was.
His eyes kept being drawn to his computer workstation: three large screens in a semicircle, with trios of keyboards and mice ready to grant him access to any electronic portal in the world. Why was he lying on a scratchy, secondhand couch, petting his dog and moping, when he could instantly energize himself with news, music, movies, erotica, anything at all that he desired?
But David knew why. And he understood that being drawn into that world again, with its easy amusements and false comforts, was an incredibly horrible idea.
There were reasons why his walls were lined with books, and why his was the only apartment at the Rainbow Arms lacking that most essential of modern devices, a television.
David’s eyes closed, though he continued to stroke Johnson. He hadn’t the least desire to start a new novel tonight. Bill Lopes was probably six sheets to the wind already, so stopping by the caretaker’s cottage for another chat wasn’t an option. He’d wanted to spend time with Genevieve tonight! She was so busy with Gâteaupia most of the week that they already saw each other less than most couples did.
When they were together, that is.
If only he’d checked his phone earlier, he could have been at her house right now, sipping a glass of Merlot while the two of them prepared dinner together. Perhaps he would have spent the night, always a delight except for poor Johnson, who’d be relegated to sleeping on an old blanket in her spare room.
David rose. Where was his phone, anyway? Not at its charging station by the computers; that would have been too obvious.
He checked his tiny kitchen, and then the bedroom. Nothing. Had he left it in the courtyard or at Bill’s?
But he hadn’t used it since… since…
Oh. The bathroom, on the counter by the sink. He had texted his Culpepper Mills contact earlier, to let her know that he would finish some linking from home over the weekend.
He retrieved his phone, and as he grasped it the screen lit up, vividly fulgid in the dark room. An unknown number flashed again and again. The sound was muted, and David found himself mesmerized by
the lights pulsing in utter silence.
He decided to chance it. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this David?” A singsong female voice, fake and overly pleasant.
He sighed. “It is. Seriously, Friday night? What are you trying to sell me?”
She laughed. “I’m not trying to sell you anything. Unless you want me to. This is Jess, Genevieve’s old housemate. She… she suggested I call you, so we could talk. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No! Not at all!” David made his way back to the couch, his head spinning. Jess, calling him? And at Genevieve’s prompting?
“She has mentioned me, right?” was then dryly tossed out.
David barked a laugh himself. “Oh, yes. Many, many times.”
“I would hope so!” was her reply. “I’d hate to think she’d partitioned me off just because I don’t live in Shady Grove anymore. Genevieve’s fabulous with partitions. But you probably know that all too well by now, don’t you?”
David practically fell back onto the couch. Johnson jumped up, but then quickly made himself comfortable again. Jess’s voice was nothing like David had imagined, but then again, he’d never actually seen a picture of her! Not that this was unusual. Genevieve didn’t have pictures of anybody up in her home, just artwork and a few framed posters.
“So…” began David, unsure of what he should say.
“So…” echoed Jess in an exact imitation of David. “Why don’t we talk? You can ask me some questions, I can ask you some. Perhaps we can both clear up some minor issues, and I can try to help you understand why Genevieve is so… well, so much like Genevieve can be.”
David had to stifle a giggle. Of all the things the mysterious Jess could have said, this was about the least expected.
“Okay. First off, why… um, why is it so hard for me to keep her… close to me? And no,” David interrupted himself, “that didn’t come out right. Let me try again. Why is it that whenever she and I reach a certain level of intimacy, it always feels as if the rug gets pulled out from under me? From under both of us?”
“Physical intimacy? Or emotional?”
David felt a blush strike his cheeks. “Emotional. Sometimes tied in with the physical.” He couldn’t believe he was saying all this to someone he’d never met. “It just seems as if every time we bond, a day later, or even the next morning, she’s pulled away. Purposely distanced herself.”
“She was hurt, David. Badly. It’s hard for her, to trust anyone.”
“You mean Todd.”
“Yes. I mean Todd.”
Silence then for a few long seconds. David could hear Jess breathing: slow, careful intakes as she assessed his responses.
“She’s older than you too, David. That can make for a divide.”
“She’s not that much older.”
“She’s thirty-six, you’re thirty-one. That age gap can create differences, all on its own.”
“I never feel that she’s older than me, or that I’m younger. I don’t see her as anyone other than who she is.”
“That’s one of the things she likes about you. A lot, as a matter of fact. That you don’t classify her, or stereotype her.”
“I do feel sometimes that I’m not good enough for her. That I can’t measure up to… To…”
“To your own image of who you should be? Or to Todd?”
David sighed. “Either. Both.”
Jess laughed, a low-pitched ripple of amusement. “Define ‘good enough,’ David. Or maybe don’t even try. Genevieve’s better than most of us. She always has been. Neither you nor I – nor Todd – can ever measure up.”
“Why did they break up? Why did he leave Shady Grove?”
A clearing of her throat. The singsong returned. “I’m sure that you’ve gone over that with her. Too many times, at least from what I’ve been told.”
“She wanted to talk about it!” David tried not to sound defensive. “She wanted to explore things, let me in on the reasons why she acted certain ways. I know I’ve gone… overboard at times, for lack of a better adjective, but she kept bringing it up, she kept bringing him up!”
“And you feel that Todd was the love of her life? And you’re the rebound-style leftovers?”
“No! Or yes. Or maybe sometimes. They were together for seven years. I know she lived with you for a good part of that, but no matter what she tells me, she always clamps down on why it ended. I know they never lived together, and may God help me for saying this, I totally get that – even after eighteen months, I still feel like a guest at her house! But aside from that, I sense that while part of her despises Todd, I also sense that she hasn’t gotten over him. That she loves him still, and that’s who I’m competing against. This hunky, goodtime ex-football player who exists in her mind, and never ages, or says the wrong thing, or forgets to bring his phone with him everywhere he goes.”
David slapped his forehead. “God, I’m sorry. I sound like a loon.”
She laughed again. “No. You sound like you’re in a relationship with Genevieve MacGuffie.”
But he couldn’t continue to make light of it. “Seriously, Jess, I apologize. It’s the first time we’ve ever talked, and all I can do is come across like some neurotic wimp who can’t handle his girlfriend’s past.”
“But if her past is alive in the present…” She inhaled deeply. “You could certainly handle some things differently, but I’ll be the first to admit to you that Genevieve is no walk in the park, no matter how sweet those cakes of hers might taste.”
“She keeps suggesting – jokingly, I assume – that I go out with Lydia. And there are times I almost want to. Simpler, more laughter, less expected of me, a lot less angst.”
“And perhaps Lydia has a girlfriend who could join the two of you on occasion if the fancy strikes her?”
At that, David couldn’t help but snicker. “Well, the thought has crossed my mind, but if I can barely handle one woman, what would I do with two?”
“Bring ’em to one of those meetings. Swap ’em out for another pair if they can’t behave!”
“Mmm. I’ve never been to one of those meetings, though.”
“Has she ever asked you to?”
“Genevieve? No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. It was at the store the other night, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. She probably told you about it.”
“Nope! All I got to hear about was David, David, David.”
“Oh, joy.”
“It’s not so bad. Better than past tense, like Todd.”
“Ha! Do you get to hear about him, too?”
Jess chortled in reply. “All the time, all the time. But if you tell her I said that, I’m driving right out there and dropping one of those Blackberry Buttermilk Cakes of hers right on your head.”
David smiled. “We will meet, right? Some day?”
A pause. And then, “Yes. I promise. Genevieve’s promised me.”
“Good. I…”
“Oh, don’t start groveling again! No more apologies. And David?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve got my number now, and I have yours. Call if you want. Anytime. I’m on your side, on both of your sides. I liked talking to you, hearing your voice. You’re honest. And that is something dear sainted Todd was not. For a lot of those seven years those two were together.”
“Really?” David tried to rein in his eagerness. “Did that have – ”
“That’s not for me to tell you,” Jess interjected. “When Genevieve’s ready, you’ll know.”
“If we last that long,” he almost moaned.
“Courage. Fortitude. She’s one of the few who’s worth it.”
David nodded. “I know.” And he did. Genevieve was a rarity, an absolute gem underneath that beautiful, demanding exterior.
“Tell her what we talked about. Or most of it,” she added with a giggle. “She’ll want to know, anyway.”
“Thank you, Jess. Truly.”
“Good night, David. Sweet
dreams.”
She’d clicked off before David could return the sentiment.
He set the phone down on the floor and lay back once more on the couch. It was a lot to think about, a lot to think about.
Chapter Nine
“Damn it, I hate this game! Why do you come here every week?”
David closed his eyes, willing himself not to snap back. His visit with Grandpa Wilcott had begun poorly, and had only skidded downhill from there.
“It’s Gin rummy, Grandpa. It’s a game you once played every night with Grandma. And I come because I enjoy seeing you.”
“Bah!” Grandpa threw down the card he’d picked up, his ninth from-the-pile discard in a row. “Long time ago. Probably had nothing better to do. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Apparently not,” David replied evenly, picking up yet another card that would have given him Gin before placing it atop the discards.
The first thing Grandpa had done upon David’s arrival was to shove the previous day’s Shady Grove Courier at him. “Isn’t this you? Isn’t that the crap hole you live in?” he’d asked, a finger jabbing at the stark image of the Rainbow Arms.
“Yep. But it wasn’t me that got knocked off. So you’re still stuck with the same offer: you want to walk around the square a few times or play cards?”
The newspaper had been tossed aside, and Grandpa had lodged himself firmly in his favorite chair, a decades-old leather Barcalounger that, when fully reclined, took up half his floor space.
David always found it amusing that while his Grandpa had become crusty, irascible, and entirely unable to find any joy in life, his room reflected quite an opposite sentiment. Warm family portraits and candid photos of David’s Grandma covered the walls; the bedspread was a patchwork quilt that had been crafted by two of David’s aunts; books, hobby magazines, and well-thumbed motorcycle manuals were neatly lined up in order of size within two elegant mahogany bookshelves.
Grandpa had kept pictures of his last three girlfriends on top of his dresser for a while, but they’d disappeared a few months before. David had decided to leave it alone.
“HA!” Grandpa had gotten what he’d needed: a five, to give him fives over a run of three Diamonds.
A Shiver of Wonder Page 4