He would try to temper her excitement with practical responses such as, “It’s nothing new. Been happening for millions of years.”
“It’s the first time for us,” she said before Curtis was born. “Should be in the headlines, A STAR IS BORN!”
“You’re nuts, you know that, Lea? But you’re my nutty wife, and I love you.”
As he tried to see to Alisha’s many needs and tried to block out her irritating sighs and moans, he conceded that he was not being fair to Alisha. Curtis had been born twenty-three years ago, when he was twenty-seven, just out of medical school and beginning a new career.
At fifty, he worried about so many things, his dwindling practice, trying to furnish the new split-level house he shared with Alisha, who appeared to have little interest in it, although she said she would start to do so once their child was born.
His whining wife made him long for the serenity of his former wife. He truly hoped things would improve once the baby was born. All he wanted was a healthy child.
He attended the birthing classes with her and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was not the oldest expectant father. He met one or two men helping their wives learn proper breathing techniques during contractions, how to work through their contractions to make the process easier.
He noticed that Alisha was less than enthusiastic about the coming birth, which surprised him, knowing that as a professional nurse she should understand the birthing procedure and become more involved. To him she seemed to have taken the role of bystander, watching, not participating. He began to wonder as he saw her lack of excitement over the coming event if she could be predisposed to be a victim of a post-partum depression. He recognized her behavior as troubling, but hoped it would improve when the baby came.
On a hot, humid August night at one-thirty in the morning, Don was awakened by Alisha’s moans. He turned on the bedside lamp.
“What’s wrong?”
One look at her contorted face gave him an answer.
“You’re having a contraction?”
She nodded, too frightened to speak, her eyes begging him for help.
He got out of bed and dressed quickly in slacks and a tee shirt, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his wife.
She gasped as another contraction moved over her extended abdomen. Don placed his hand over her belly to time the internal struggle.
“Seems you are going into active labor,” he told her. “I’m going to call Joe Collins, tell him what’s going on.”
He did so, snapping his cell phone shut, placing it in his pants pocket.
“He’s going to meet us at the hospital. Here’s your bathrobe,” he told her, “and your slippers. I’ll get your bag out of the closet.”
By the time they reached the car in the driveway, Alisha had another strong contraction which made her cry out.
“Don, help me!”
“Take deep breaths. Breathe through the pain…”
“I can’t, I can’t. I don’t…don’t want to have a baby! Help me, Don, help me-e-e!”
Her reaction startled Don, and he prayed silently that they would get to the hospital in time. Because it was early morning, the traffic was light and he hoped for the best.
Alisha lay back against the passenger seat, her hands across her abdomen, her eyes closed, her mouth in a rictus grin as if she could will the pain away.
He knew she was afraid, and as he drove through the velvet black night he felt sorry for her, but only she could do the work of bringing their child into the world. Only she would feel the labor pains.
Sighing deeply, she asked him, “Is this going to take long?”
Wanting to reassure her, he knew he had to be truthful.
“Alisha, I don’t know. It could be hours or it could be soon. Depends on how quickly your cervix dilates. Joe will be able to tell you once he examines you. And I will be right by your side. I know you will do fine.”
“I—I…hope so. Didn’t know it would be this hard.”
“You’re a trooper, Alisha. A real trooper. Trust me.”
Pulling into the hospital parking lot, he remembered he had said those same words to Leanne…twenty-three years ago when Curtis had been born.
CHAPTER 22
The day Wally severed her relationship with Alisha, she couldn’t have been more certain that she had made the right decision. She’d had a strenuous day of teaching nurses, many of whom were registered nurses who had passed the national exams and thought there was nothing more they needed to learn. She had been tired and irritable, as she knew most of her students were in her class for the sole purpose of qualifying for the higher salaries an advanced degree would give them.
Wally had become increasingly disapproving of Alisha’s outrageous deceit and extremely uncomfortable with her own knowledge of it. She had to remove herself from what she felt was an untenable position. She no longer felt kindly toward her friend; indeed, she was feeling just the opposite. It was imperative that she move—and it couldn’t be soon enough.
When she arrived at the condo later that afternoon, Alisha was on the living room couch, a bag of potato chips and a cold drink on the coffee table in front of her.
“Hi,” she said, picking up her drink to take a swallow. Her bland, unconcerned expression infuriated Wally.
“Hi, yourself!” she said, plopping down on a chair across from Alisha. Then, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she blurted, “Look, I’m outta here!”
“What? You’re leaving? How come?”
“Why are you asking me that, Alisha? You know doggone well that I don’t approve of what you’re doin’. Either I buy you out of this mortgage or you buy me out, but I’m not staying!”
In a calm, matter-of-fact voice, Alisha responded, “Why don’t we both sell? We bought together, we can sell together.”
A suddenly relieved Wally said, “Fine, if that’s all right with you. I’ve already lined up an agent, so why don’t we let her put the place on the market, see what happens.”
“Okay by me,” Alisha said, munching on a potato chip.
Alisha’s devil-may-care attitude was becoming almost impossible for Wally to tolerate, but she held back her anger and described the plans she had already made.
“I’ve rented an apartment on Charles Street, near the hospital. As soon as I move and get settled, I’ll let you know.”
“Good. I’ll be leaving, too, as soon as Don and I set a date.”
“So you think it will be a good idea, keep up our payments and let our real estate agent handle everything?”
“What kind of price should we be asking?” Alisha said.
Wally told her she thought the agent with her knowledge of the current market might be able to help them with that.
Alisha agreed, adding, “Until it’s sold we will each keep up with our mortgage payments, like we said, until then.”
“That’s right, and if we move out soon, new owners can move in at their pleasure.”
“Makes sense, Wally.”
Wally was pleased that Alisha was behaving in a calm, rational manner; she knew all too well how angry Alisha could be whenever she did not get her way. She decided to take advantage of her roommate’s good humor and reveal the rest of her plans.
“I’ll be out of here by this weekend, into my new apartment, and then I’m off on vacation.”
“Good for you. Where you going?”
“Taking a cruise to Alaska. I’ve always wanted to see the glaciers, the Cascade Mountains and some of the national parks. I really do need a change, looking forward to it. By the way, the real estate agent’s name is Mrs. Sharlene Prior. Here’s her card. I think you’ll like her.”
“As long as she can help us sell this place…”
* * *
Mrs. Prior had found a buyer for the condo, and by the end of the month papers had been passed between the buyers and sellers.
Wally and Alisha shook hands with the new owners, a newly married couple anxi
ous to start married life with a home of their own.
Then Alisha and Wally shook hands with Mrs. Prior. After it was over, they shared a brief hug, each knowing that the relationship was over.
For Wally, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders now that she was no longer living with Alisha. But the deceitful knowledge that she still shared bothered her. What could she do? She’d sworn to keep Alisha’s action a secret.
Living apart from Alisha, she began to focus on her new apartment and her own life, realizing that she had no investment or responsibility in her roommate’s life, or indeed her future. She set about making plans for her Alaska adventure; surely it would give her a refreshing insight into her own future. The burden of Alisha’s deceit would become history and she need not worry over something she was not responsible for.
* * *
“Mother! Good news!”
“Curtis, tell me!”
“I’ve passed the LSAT and I will be a first-year law student at Harvard.”
“Oh, son, I’m so happy and so proud of you!”
“Thanks, Mom!”
“Where will you be living?”
“I’ve heard about an apartment in Cambridge, near Central Square, and I’ve been online…think I’ve lined up a roommate. We’ve been sending e-mails back and forth, he’s from California, but I think he got his undergraduate degree from Tufts University. We’ve traded photos, and although he says he’s Nisei, born in America, you know, his folks, I think, not sure, were born in Japan. But, Mom, it’s the funniest thing,” Curtis went on to tell his mother, “except for his hair and slightly slanted eyes, he looks like us.”
“You’re kidding! But in this day and age, Curtis, anything is possible.”
“Tell me about it,” Curtis said, thinking about his parents’ divorce. “Well, Mom, gotta go…just wanted to give you my good news. Is Jane okay?”
“Oh, my, yes, she’ll be pleased with your good news. I know she will. Keep in touch and bring your new friend over for dinner anytime, love to have you.”
* * *
Curtis had planned to meet Bob Sato at the well-known bar and grill in Harvard Square. Because they had exchanged e-mails and photographs, he almost felt as if he was meeting an old friend. The summer-long communications had made it possible for him to feel that way and he was looking forward to meeting Bob Sato.
The room was crowded, filled with chatting students milling about, greeting one another. He approached the maitre d’ while scanning the room.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I’m meeting a friend. Oh, I think I see him.”
“Fine.” Picking up two menus, the host followed Curtis to the table.
Bob Sato stood, having recognized Curtis when he reached the table, and extended his hand.
“How are you doing?” Curtis asked. “When did you get in?”
“Been here in Cambridge for two days.”
“You should have called me; could have gotten together sooner.”
“Well, you see, after graduation, I went back to California to spend some time with my folks.”
“I can understand that. It’s good to meet you at last, Bob.”
“So, what do you want to eat?” Curtis asked.
“American food, and plenty of it.”
“I’m with you on that.”
Both men studied their menus and when their waiter approached, Curtis said, “I’m having steak.”
Bob said, “I’d like steak as well.”
The waiter took their orders, each having steak, medium well-done, with Curtis opting for French fries and Bob ordering rice. And both ordered a fresh garden salad and a beer.
“So, where are you staying, Bob?”
“For now, I’m at The Charles Hotel.”
“Everything all right there?”
“Sure. It’s comfortable, but I’m hoping that soon we can move into the apartment you found in Cambridge.”
“It’s not far from where we are right now. After we eat we can go, take a look at it. Are you ready to sign a lease for a year?”
“I’m ready, but the rent has to be reasonable. My dad will help me out, but I’d rather not have to ask him, you know…”
“I understand. I’ll be trying to find a part-time job to help with expenses myself,” Curtis said, frowning as he thought about his parents.
With the divorce there would be very little money for him. The trust fund his father had provided for him would not be available to him until he became twenty-five, two years away.
But working would not be new to him. All through high school and college he had worked as a camp counselor, mowed lawns, shoveled snow, worked in small factories, even worked as an orderly (courtesy of his dad) in hospitals, finally getting a job he liked as a reporter for the town weekly.
He had saved some money, and his mother promised to help. The Cape property had been deeded to Curtis and his sister; his mom suggested they rent it out for the year and that money would help. Leanne told her son, “I have contacts that will manage the place for a small fee. Because there’s no mortgage, that should help both you and your sister.”
Curtis readily agreed, knowing his sister wanted to work toward a master’s degree in education.
He told Bob, “All my life I’ve worked, even though my dad is a doctor. I always tried to be independent, take pride in taking care of myself.”
“My dad ran a farm in San Diego, and I always worked on the farm.”
“What kind of farm?”
“Mainly fruits and vegetables. You know, tomatoes, corn, potatoes, melons, peppers, all types of squash.”
“Must have been hard work.”
“Back-breaking, that’s what it was, Curtis. I vowed I would do something else with my life.”
Curtis had been cutting a piece of steak and looked up at his new friend and shook his head with understanding. “Can see why you would want to do that.”
“I’m the oldest of three, two brothers, so I had to help,” Bob told him.
“Did you pay your own way through college?” Curtis asked him.
“With scholarships and part-time work in a computer store.”
“In a way I guess all that has prepared you for really hard work,” Curtis said. “I’m expecting this first year is going to be hard.”
“So I’ve heard,” Bob said as he crossed his fork and knife over his cleaned plate, then reached for his wallet, from which he took several large bills.
Noticing this, Curtis picked up the bill the waiter had left.
“Split this down the middle?”
“Fine. I’m anxious to see the apartment.”
As they walked to Curtis’s car, which was parked on a side street, Curtis couldn’t get over his new friend’s physique. Curtis himself was six feet, two inches, but Bob was nearly as tall. Six feet at least, Curtis figured, and he had a robust, bulky build, strong bones. Curtis realized he was making stereotypical judgments based on what he thought Japanese people should look like. He spoke up.
“Bob, how tall are you?”
His new friend laughed.
“Thought all Japanese were short, eh? Believe it or not, Curtis, my man, you and I are closer than you think. My mother is a proud African-American woman. All four of her brothers are over six feet, five inches, and played college basketball. My folks met at a basketball game…and, well, here I am.”
Curtis laughed. “Guilty as charged, making the wrong assumptions. Please accept my apology. Stereotyping is not a good thing.”
“No problem,” Bob said as they reached Curtis’s car, a Jeep Cherokee.
“Like your car,” Bob told him as they got in and fastened their seatbelts.
“It’s been good. Not new, but for a five-year-old, I’m not complaining.”
The drive to Western Avenue was a short one, and in no time they were front of a Victorian type residence.
“We’re here, our new home away from home.”
“Ni
ce house,” Bob observed.
“I think so,” Curtis said. “The woman who owns it, a Mrs. Alexis Lockett, mostly uses it as a bed and breakfast, but she has an apartment on the third floor that she likes to reserve for tenants like us, short-time residents.”
“I like the looks of it, Curtis. A nice wrap-around porch…would you say it was Victorian style?”
“Guess so, although I don’t know too much about house designs. But it’s a nice tan color and the fieldstone foundation tells me it’s substantial. Let’s go have a look. Mrs. Lockett is expecting us.”
They walked up the front steps to the porch, which had several wooden rockers and a few tables, suggesting it was a comfortable place to relax.
CHAPTER 23
Curtis rang the bell beside a heavy glass-paned oak door and saw a figure approaching down a well-lit hall.
“You must be my new law school students,” she greeted them. “Come in, come in and make yourselves at home.”
“I’m Curtis Matthews and this is Bob Sato, Mrs. Lockett.”
Curtis thought Mrs. Lockett might be about sixty years old. She was a round-faced woman of medium height and weight. Her bright smile, sparkling brown eyes and tawny skin tones made him think of a typical grandmother.
She led them into the living room.
“Let’s sit down and get acquainted,” she said, “and I can tell you about my home.”
Both men made appropriate remarks as they settled themselves on a comfortable sofa. Mrs. Lockett stood facing them.
“May I offer you a cold drink, ice tea, lemonade, ginger ale?”
“Thanks, but we’ve just had lunch,” Curtis told her, but looked over at Bob, who shook his head. “No thanks, ma’am.”
“It would be no problem,” she persisted.
“Well, in that case, lemonade sounds good. Bob?”
“Right. Thanks, ma’am.”
“Be right back.”
Within minutes she returned with a wooden tray with three tall glasses of lemonade, napkins and a plate of assorted cookies.
As she entered the room, Bob went over to her.
“Let me take that, Mrs. Lockett.”
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