Lee was naked under the sheets, and the memory of seeing her body again after forty years, made him get hard. In great shape, Lee’s body was youthful, with small firm breasts and a little mound of a tummy.
Unable to tell if she dyed her hair, she’d shaved everything else so she had no gray body hair, for which he was grateful. Gray body hair was unacceptable in a woman. Although he had it, even his chest hair was gray, in a woman, there was no excuse.
Powerless to stop, when they were finished doing it the first time after so many years apart, he compared Lee to Kelly. Lee was quiet when he fucked her, making soft noises that didn’t disrupt his own pleasure. Kelly was a thrasher; she yodeled when she came, and it used to piss Steve off until she just stopped coming. Not sure it was because of his criticism or because she was just getting too old, it was a relief that he didn’t have to make an effort. Eventually, they simply stopped doing it.
But Steve still had a lot to learn about women. When he thought of Lee’s age, the phrase, It’s never too late, came to him. Looking over at the bed, he saw Lee was finally stirring.
“Good morning sleepyhead,” he said. She waved him over, and when he got to the bed, she pulled him down on top of her. She was making up for lost time.
***
Kelly ran back to the house in despair, a sixty-two-year-old woman who would be starting all over again, alone. The disbelief that Steve could treat her in such a way took her breath away yet again. As hard as she tried not to succumb to tears, they came anyway, flowing out of her eyes, blinding her. A neighbor, a retired assembly line worker who’d survived the drudgery of the job by developing a passion for gardening, greeted her as she ran by him, and she waved and smiled, hoping he didn’t notice the tears.
“Miss Kelly, I put chrysanthemums on your porch,” he shouted.
Kelly waved. “Thank you, James,” she said. “I’ll put them in later today.”
Aware that she’d maintain her sanity by the order she kept, planting mums might be exactly what was needed. Rather than showering and going back to bed, she’d get her gardening gloves and plant mums. James would come over and help her, and they would chat about his arthritis and grandchildren and Medicare, killing time.
Refusing to dwell on the dissolution of an almost half-century marriage, she felt the despair leave her body, aching limbs regenerated, headache gone. Marching straight to the kitchen, she washed her hands and then got out her phone and sent a new group message, minus one participant.
Come to dinner again tonight, it said. I promise you this gathering will be relaxed and enjoyable. Love, your mother, mother-in-law, grandmother and sister.
Pulling a giant package of ground beef out of the freezer to defrost in the microwave, she’d make a huge pot of spaghetti sauce. Homemade garlic rolls, string beans she’d frozen from her garden, and a big salad would complete the meal. She’d run back to the store, one on the other side of town from Steve’s motel, and get the ingredients to make dessert before the lovers ventured out. Cooking for her family was preferable to entertaining the murder of Steve and Lee. Thoughts of them dangled in front of her eyes as she went about her day, and although she knew it was detrimental to focus on such negativity, she felt powerless to control it.
Waving at James as she pulled out of the garage, the plan was to make a pass by the motel again to make sure Steve’s truck was still there. Traffic was dying down as she made a left-hand turn onto Telegraph with the motel less than a half-block down the road. No one was behind her, so she reduced speed as she approached.
“Oh no,” she moaned; just as she came upon the driveway, Steve’s white pickup truck was getting ready to pull out into traffic.
He put his brakes on, but it was too late; Kelly made a quick right turn and smashed into his truck head-on, giving a little punch to the gas pedal.
As often happens at serendipitous moments like this, the perpetrator is given to fits of laughter. Kelly was hysterical. The looks of shock on Steve’s and Lee’s faces when their air bags deployed, and then Steve’s nose starting to bleed, well, it was too much for her. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she bent over with laughter.
Later, Maxine would tell the others in confidence that she was worried Kelly was having a mental breakdown. They’d gathered at Augie’s as soon as everyone was free that evening. Karen left work and went to the hospital to be with Kelly, taking her home when she’d received a clean bill of health. Neither Lee nor Steve was hurt except a punch to the face from their air bags. Both cars were undriveable. Steve hadn’t contacted anyone in the family.
“I was first on the scene, and it looked like an accident to me. That’s my story, by the way,” Maxine said. “She was headed to the motel to ask Steve a question and didn’t realize he was trying to pull out.”
“Is my father going to go along with that?” Alice asked.
“Yes, actually. He doesn’t want a reporter from the little paper in town to get ahold of the story - Wife Tries to Kill Husband and Girlfriend with Vehicle,” Maxine said.
“What was she trying to do?” Augie asked, angry. “Did she go there to start a fight?”
“This is your mother you’re talking about,” Sandy said to her husband, burping baby Nicole over her shoulder. “When have any of us ever seen her do or say anything negative about Steve? Never, and I’ve known her since I was a teenager.”
“This has been a long time coming,” Ben said. “I’m surprised she didn’t crack before Lee came into the picture.”
Lisa looked at him and frowned.
“Careful, don’t share family secrets.”
“Everyone here knows,” Ben said. “My wife asked me after the first week she met everyone if my father was clinically depressed.”
“Don’t put me on the spot, dear,” Liz said. “It wasn’t meant to be dinnertable conversation.”
“We all knew she covered for him,” Ken said. “It’s the way you did things at our house. We all made excuses for Dad.”
“That’s still no excuse to try to kill the guy,” Augie said.
“Augie, she wasn’t trying to kill your father,” Sandy replied. “She just went there to ask him a question, remember? He was pulling out and she was pulling in, although her impulse may have been to run into him. It’s just a coincidence that he had told her, in front of her family, by the way, if the stories I’m hearing are true, that he was leaving her for a woman ten years older than he is.”
“She wasn’t going fast enough to have had much intention,” Maxine said. “The guy at the gas station next door said she drove by slowly, with her turn signal on. It was just a fluke that he was there. Her foot may have slipped onto the accelerator.”
Ken burst out laughing. “Do you really believe that?”
Maxine gave him a dirty look.
“Prove otherwise, smart ass.”
Their phones all went off at the same time.
“Must be Mom,” Lisa said.
“Yep, she’s wondering why we’re all late for dinner,” Ben added, reading the text from Kelly.
“I can’t believe she still wants us to come over,” Lisa replied.
“Come on, everyone. Let’s pray it’s better than last night,” Alice said.
“Us in-laws will be there this time, so it’ll be much nicer,” Sandy said, laughing.
“I wonder if Steve will show up again,” Liz said, buckling the baby up in her car seat on the floor.
“If he has a death wish,” Maxine said.
They filed out of Augie’s house for the short ride to Kelly’s. Waiting at the front door as usual, but with two stitches on her chin and a broken fingernail, she smiled and waved. Her family brought her joy that would not be denied. No matter what happened that evening, she was sticking to this story: she’d set out to ask Steve when he’d retrieve his belongings, and didn’t realize he was trying to leave when she turned into the driveway.
As her children arrived, she went out to help Sandy and Augie with their children. Having
everyone around her would be soothing, and as usual, no one would even miss Steve.
Chapter 9
Terry Cramer, waiting for Ken at home as usual, was hurt and angry that once again she was the only one left out.
I’m at my mom’s for dinner again, Ken texted. She had a small car accident today. See you later.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Terry said out loud.
Grabbing her purse and car keys, she left their apartment for the ride to Kelly’s house. For the past four years that she and Ken Boyd had lived together, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d been included in family get-togethers.
Not meaning to be critical, as she turned the corner into the Boyds’ subdivision, she noted again how modest the homes were. For being a two-income family, the house in which they’d raised their family could’ve been nicer.
The lights were on in the dining room, and people were crowded around the table. No one looked as she walked up the path to the house. It was obvious Kelly was trying to keep things festive with pots of mums and a terra cotta pumpkin on the steps leading up to the porch.
She could hear voices that quieted when she knocked. Ken’s aunt Karen opened the door.
“Terry,” she said, “come on in. You’re just in time for dinner.”
“Thanks, I’m starving,” Terry replied, walking into the dining room.
Everyone said, “Hi,” except for Ken who got up and went to kiss her.
“What’s this all about?” he whispered with eyebrows in question marks.
“Sorry,” Terry replied. She looked around the room. “I wasn’t being left out again.”
Kelly went to her for a hug. “Of course not. I should’ve contacted you myself, and next time, I will.” She glared at her son. “Ken, get another chair.”
“We were just talking about Thanksgiving,” Sandy said. “I can’t believe the holidays are almost here.”
“What are we going to do about Dad?” Augie asked.
“One of my nightmares in life was worrying about my kids being exposed to drama like this. And what do I do but bring it on myself. I can’t even blame your father for it,” Kelly said, remorse clear in her voice.
“Mother, you should fight him,” Alice said.
Everyone turned to her.
“Are you nuts?” Maxine said.
“No, I’m serious. Why should he be allowed to screw everything up because he’s having a midlife crisis? Don’t let him leave you; it’s as simple as that.”
“Honey, he’s way beyond midlife. I need to just let him go. He’s been a reluctant participant most of our life together. It might be a relief not to have to beg him to do everything I want to do,” Kelly admitted.
Sad, Sandy looked at Augie, understanding what Kelly was talking about. Augie needed to be talked into almost everything, and when he made a decision on his own to do something, she went along with it whether she wanted to or not because it was so refreshing to have him motivated. Maybe it was just marriage.
“Let’s make a decision as a family,” Ben said. “We’re all hurting. It’s new - hasn’t even been five days. Let’s put a limit on how long we’re going to let Lee and Steve have control over our conversation. The way I see it, Mother is the one person we need to support. If our father needs us, he sure isn’t letting anyone know. Have any of you heard a peep?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“He called me Saturday, and that was the only time,” Augie said.
“Maybe we need to have an intervention,” Alice said excitedly. “Force him to see how ridiculous he’s being.”
Kelly sighed.
“Kids, I’m relieved. Please, you have to believe me. I don’t want him here, loving someone else. It’s not fair to me. I need to think about everything for a while.” She got up to retrieve more garlic rolls. “I’m already thinking about registering on Match-Dating.com.”
There was a gasp and then laughter. She really wasn’t, but wanted to change the subject quickly, becoming more depressed as the children talked about Steve. It worked, because for the rest of the meal, they spoke of experiences they’d had or heard others had, with online matchmaking.
“I’ll do it too,” Karen said. “I was just thinking about it last night. It’s time to move from that townhouse, and it’s time to date again.”
“I agree,” Kelly said. “We’ll work on your profile first. I should wait at least a year.”
“It’s been two years since Eve died,” Karen continued. “I’m finally ready.”
“How’d you know it was time?” Liz asked.
“I just thought it would be nice to share what little time I have left with someone else. I never thought I’d be alone at this age. I stayed in the closet until my mother died. Major thought Eve and I were just roommates. I want to live openly. If Eve were alive, we’d be getting married.”
Everyone was quiet, thinking about Eve.
“Now we’re both alone,” Kelly said.
“Well, not really,” she answered. “We have your kids. Thank God for all of you.”
While the family looked forward to the future, Steve and Lee sat in a rented car, eating burgers at a drive-in.
“I still can’t believe what happened, Stevie,” Lee said, thrilled Kelly had smashed into Steve’s crappy old truck with her father’s Mercedes.
He nodded in agreement.
“Me either. Kelly must have lost it.”
Digging through her ever-present giant bag, she passed a business card over to Steve.
“What’s this?” Steve asked.
“Lawyers. Jacoby and Sons. Auto accidents, falls, workman’s compensation. You call. You get money from Kelly Boyd’s insurance.”
Bristling, Steve quickly handed the card back, wishing he had the hand sanitizer he’d left in his smashed truck.
“No, thank you,” he said. “We have the same insurance company. I’d be suing myself.”
“Don’t waste time, Stevie,” she warned, shuffling more business cards. “You need a good divorce lawyer.”
Refusing her card this time, Steve watched Lee tilt her head and smile with her almond eyes at half-mast, a glimmer of the real Lee. Lee the manipulator, Lee the cunning seductress.
“Do you want to get married?” he asked, pushing her bag on the floor and pulling her to him. “I like this car. We’re closer together.”
“We can’t live in the ugly hotel if we get married,” she said. “We need a house.”
“Didn’t you and Baker have a house together?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to sell it,” she said. “It’s for my old age.”
“But if we get married, you’ll live with me when you’re old.”
Steve didn’t have the heart to remind her that she was already old.
Laughing and slapping her leg, the realization that she wouldn’t need a house in Chicago if Steve married her came over her. “I’d like to have house with you, Stevie.”
“I always wanted a vegetable garden,” Steve said.
“Why didn’t you have one, then?” Lee asked.
“Because Kelly beat me to it,” he answered, ashamed. “It never occurred to me to go outside and help her with it. I cut the grass, and she did the garden.”
“Silly,” Lee said, shaking her head. “You miss out on fun that way, Stevie.”
“Yep, I guess I did. But now I’m ready to have a house with you, with a big garden.”
“I garden,” she said. “I do the best garden in my street.”
“We’ll garden together,” he said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Not having far to reach in the small car, Steve hugged her, resting his cheek on top of her head.
“I’m so happy,” he said, his voice quavering. “I never thought I’d be this happy.”
“Aw, Stevie Boyd,” Lee crooned. “We have to get a house before Tet so I can prepare for the holiday.”
“That’s not until next year,” Steve said. “I remember it being in February.�
�
“This year it in January. I have to be in my house by the twelfth month though,” she said. “Give me time to make a nice altar and prepare for the Kitchen God to go to heaven. He report to the Jade Emperor about what happened to my family this year.”
A man of little faith, Steve didn’t think any report on the family would bode well with the Jade Emperor or any god or goddess. To appease his guilt, Steve would make Lee an altar if she wanted it, getting use out of his fancy woodshop in the garage.
“Can I build you an altar?”
“Yes, if you know how to work with the wood,” she answered.
“I have a woodshop in my garage at home,” he said. “When we get our own home, I’ll bring all my tools over.”
“We better hurry, because the Kitchen Gods leave on the twenty-third,” Lee said. “We don’t got much time.”
Exhausted after doing his weekly rotation in the city health clinic seeing children with bone deformities all day, Titan Baker waited in the driveway for the garage door to go up, ducking down to look at the picture window in the front of his brownstone. His wife, Jean, watched and waited for him with a smile. Waving to her, he straightened up and drove into the garage.
Gathering his briefcase and jacket from the backseat, Titan approached the house, the full-time caregiver necessary for Jean in these last weeks waiting for him at the door.
“How’d she do today?” he asked, hoping for a good report.
“Welcome home,” she said, measuring her words. “Let me take your jacket.”
Reluctantly, he gave up his items, already aware it was a stall tactic she employed, a form of therapeutic communication. So he bided his time, realizing she’d get around to whatever was bothering her in the seconds before he’d greet his wife.
“You’ll need someone at night soon,” she said. “Unless you plan on waking hourly to change her position. Her hips are starting to break down.”
“Can you arrange it?” he asked.
As much as Titan wanted to care for Jean, during the week he had to get sleep, or before long, he’d be unable to work.
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