The Jade Emperor

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I agree. We should go where no one knows us,” she said. “Let’s go downtown and shop at the Eastern Market.”

  They high-fived and with their appetites back, finished breakfast.

  On the way into Detroit, they held hands like teenagers.

  Back in town, Steve and Lee were preparing to start life in their new apartment.

  “Let’s run to Walmart,” Steve said. “We can buy a table and chairs so there’s someplace to sit until our dining room furniture is delivered.”

  “Oh, I don’t like Walmart,” Lee said. “Cheap.”

  “It’s fine,” he replied. “We’ll have to stay in this hotel room another night if we don’t. It’s getting expensive.”

  “I pay for tonight,” she said.

  “Lee, we have our apartment. I want to get settled there. We’ll give the furniture to the kids when we get our real stuff.”

  “Titan don’t want that junk,” she said, grimacing.

  “Well, my kids might. They’re not rich doctors,” he said.

  “Titan work hard for MD,” she said, a lilt to her voice.

  Steve looked at her closely. “I’m sure he did. Did you think I thought otherwise?”

  “You say your kids not rich doctor like he should be ashamed.”

  “Lee, that never crossed my mind. Now you’re imagining things,” he said, possibly with more force than he meant.

  “I don’t imagine it,” she said, her voice up an octave. “Your kid lazybones. I see the four-eyes, the fat one work at a coffee shop.”

  “Reggie has a master’s degree in psychology,” Steve said, bristling. “He’s working on another one in public health. The coffee shop fits his needs while he’s in school.”

  That she’d echo his previous feelings about his son, unkind words he’d never shared with her, stunned Steve. After spending a few hours talking to Reggie, he realized what a privilege it was to have a son like him, to be able to spend time with such an intelligent, caring young man.

  They argued down the list, Lee using derogatory terms for each one of Steve and Kelly’s children, and Steve admiringly defending each one. The names she used for Ken stung, calling him a drunk, and Alice, worse, using a word that he himself might have used at one time to describe her homosexuality. When she said it, it tore through his heart like a knife.

  “Lee, please don’t ever use that word again, especially around me. Alice is my daughter, my last child. I hardly know her. My goal is to have some kind of relationship with her, and if she ever thought you spoke that way, it would never happen. As it is I’m doing penance for leaving their mother, and I doubt she’ll forgive me for it.”

  Often stubborn and unwilling to listen to reason, that phrase finally made an impact on Lee, and she could see the effect her tantrum had on Steve. Immediately, she got up from the chair and went to him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Why we argue about your kids? I don’t even know them.”

  “Yes, well, unfortunately, neither do I,” he said, pulling out a chair, lowering his head in his hands.

  His defeat frightened her; she’d never seen him like this. “You’ll get to know your kids,” she said. “That take time. You are just starting to work on it. Don’t give up Stevie.”

  “What are we fighting about?” he asked.

  “I don’t want Walmart furniture.”

  “And I explained to you this is just temporary. Please get dressed and come with me or I’ll buy the wrong thing. We’re checking out of this place and moving into our own apartment tonight, and that’s final.”

  “Okay, okay,” she grumbled, turning to the closet.

  Standing up to her felt empowering. He was right; they should get settled and begin their life together. He couldn’t keep taking time off work to entertain Lee in a hotel room. It was time to start living.

  In front of the bathroom mirror, Alice patted cover-up on her blemishes, cursing herself for the box of chocolate candy she’d devoured at her mother’s house while playing Monopoly Wednesday night.

  “If you could light a fire under yourself, I’d like to get in here,” Maxine said. “I’m going to be late.”

  “Can you use the powder room? I’m having a complexion meltdown.”

  “Alice, no, I cannot use the powder room. Make room for me, then. I have to beautify, too.”

  “Why are you wearing makeup?” Alice asked, frowning at her reflection. “That’s weird.”

  “We’re getting our pictures taken today and I don’t want to look like I’m sick.”

  “Are you sick?” Alice asked, turning to look directly at her.

  “I have my monthly. I look gray.”

  “Here, use some blush,” Alice said, handing over a compact. “I’m looking forward to menopause.”

  “Ha! You’re twenty-four,” Maxine replied. “While I’m hearing my biological clock ticking.”

  “What are you going to do about it? Don’t wait and have regrets,” Alice said. “My mom was over forty when I was born.”

  They made eye contact in the mirror. “She was?”

  “Yes! She said it was not a surprise. She wanted another baby so Reggie wouldn’t be alone. I think thirty-two is a common age for women to have babies now. The only issue is who.”

  “What would you think if I asked Ken?”

  “Ken’s great,” Alice said. “I’m not sure what kind of father he’d be though. How involved would you want him?”

  “It’s not fair to the kid if his father is in the vicinity and not involved. You of all people should know that.”

  “Well, thanks to you my dad is trying now,” Alice said. “And my mom was supermom, so I didn’t even realize he wasn’t actively there. And she was a great rationalizer. She could make up an excuse that explained the worst behavior.”

  “Can I invite Ken over tonight?” Maxine asked. “We can talk about it then. We’ll have to keep it nonalcoholic.”

  “What about asking Reggie? Did you consider him?” Alice asked. “And he’s not in recovery.”

  “You just said Ken’s great,” Maxine replied. “Reggie is not daddy material. I can’t imagine raising a garden with him, let alone a kid. As much as I admire Reggie, he’s too brainy.”

  “Okay, invite Ken. I don’t know what’s going on this weekend. I haven’t heard from anyone. Having Titan around has sure upset the smooth flow my mother likes.”

  “Yes, Titan is definitely stirring the pot,” Maxine said. “I’d better wash this off my face. Now I look like a clown. Pink blush is for white people.”

  Chapter 20

  Kelly and Titan walked around Eastern Market, his arm across her shoulder, relaxed and happy. No longer feeling like she was Titan’s mother, Kelly was falling in love with him, or if not love because it was too soon and she was desperate, something akin to love. Something was happening to her and it felt great, a fact she’d avoid sharing with him just yet. A plan formed as they shopped. They were going to keep their budding relationship a secret for six months out of respect for Jean. They were going to give each other space at night, Kelly’s attempt at keeping sex at bay.

  “I don’t think I can wait six months,” Titan said, flirtatious.

  “Okay, we’ll keep the appearance then of giving each other space at night,” she answered, embarrassed, laughing along with him. “It’ll be easy with Ken hanging around.”

  “Is that indefinite?”

  “I hope not,” she said, grinning. “But not for the reason you’re probably thinking. I like Terry. He needs to make amends and get back with her.”

  Driving to another AA meeting, Ken’s phone rang. He waited until he reached a stop sign to answer. It was Maxine.

  “Hey, you beautiful creature,” he said.

  “Can you meet me for coffee this morning?” she asked.

  “I’m on my way to AA, unfortunately. I’m hoping a marathon of meetings will get me back in good graces with Terry so I can move out of my mother’s house. I have a creepy feeling
I might be an interloper.”

  “You mean with Titan and Kelly?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “They are so comfortable with each other, I feel like I’m watching them falling in love.”

  “Wow,” Maxine said, worried. “That’s intense.”

  “It is. Truthfully, it’s nice seeing someone being nice to my mother.”

  “Ken, can you come over tonight, then?” Maxine asked, getting up her nerve. “I was going to ask you at coffee, but since you can’t…”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “About sevenish?”

  “Seven it is,” he said, not asking for details. “I’ll see you then.”

  After Ben left for work, baby Nicole sleeping, Liz poured coffee, got a cigarette out of a hidden pack, and went out on the porch to relax. Just as she was wondering who she should call first, Sandy called.

  “I was just thinking about who to call,” Liz said.

  “How’s everything?” Sandy asked, hoping to keep the hysteria and neediness at bay by putting others first. She couldn’t abide self-absorbed people and realized how dangerously close she was to becoming one.

  “Good. I’m glad it’s the weekend,” Liz said. “Ben is finally over his notion that we should move.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Sandy said. “I can’t stand the thought of you being an hour away.”

  “I know. I hope this lasts with Steve acting like a human being. It’s making life much easier for Ben and, therefore, for me.”

  “I have something to tell you that might upset that,” Sandy said.

  Liz sat up, alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “Augie left me for another woman,” she said. “Talk about a cliché.”

  Silence, Liz was in shock. Not Augie! Augie was the golden child, the perfect son, the Prince. This would definitely push Ben over the edge.

  “Are you thinking it’s a phase?” Liz asked, trying to be gentle.

  “No, this is no phase. I suspected he was cheating last year, but I buried it. I would have looked the other way this morning, too, when he didn’t come home last night, but it was too late. He doesn’t love me.”

  “Oh, God, Sandy, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know, right? How can this be happening to me and my kids? My goal is to keep things as unchanged for them as possible. We’ll stay in the house. They’ll keep going to school every day. I don’t know what he wants to do about visiting them. He just left with his suitcase. Bye bye, Augie.”

  “Can you reason with him?”

  “It’s too late,” Sandy answered. “I probably should have done that when I first suspected.”

  “Sandy, you don’t sound that upset. Are you relieved?”

  Pondering what Liz had observed, Sandy wondered if that was true. Did she even care?

  “My concern is for the kids. They’ll be upset, especially the little one. I haven’t even thought about what to say to them yet.”

  “Make that asshole tell them,” Liz said, bristling. “Do you know if he has plans to tell the rest of the family? Are we ever going to have a nice, boring, normal family get-together again?”

  “Maybe I’d better call Kelly and ask her if we can have family council. I certainly don’t want to have it here.”

  “No, I don’t blame you,” Liz said. “Let me know what’s happening. If you want to come over for lunch, I’ll be here all day, just me and baby Nicole.”

  After hanging up, Sandy keyed in Kelly’s house and cell numbers, but she didn’t answer.

  The gothic architecture was undetectable in the basement of the old Methodist church. A renovation from the 1970s had removed or disguised the former stone foundation and low arches which once graced it.

  Now, fluorescent lightbulbs illuminated moldy drywall, a drop ceiling, orange plastic chairs, and Formica tables. A scratched, marred oak podium stood in the center of the circle of mismatched folding chairs of oak and metal, with a few of the orange chairs mixed in.

  On his first visit at this location, Ken Boyd had stood at the bottom step and looked into the room in dismay. The uninspired hodgepodge depressed Ken, the desire for a prebreakfast beer at an all-time high.

  Standing apart from each other, members waited for the meeting to begin, looking like they’d rather be anyplace else but there.

  “Are you here for the meeting?”

  A younger woman, perhaps late twenties, had snuck up on Ken, startling him. It took him a few moments to pull himself together. The inane question resonated and he frowned. Why the hell would he be there if it wasn’t for the meeting?

  “Yep, that’s what I’m here for,” he said, wondering if this was the person who signed his attendance card, like a Sunday school attendee.

  Digging the card out of his pocket, he handed it to her. “Can I have your signature on this?”

  “Not till the end of the meeting,” she said after examining it. “So you’re the nurse?”

  “That’s what I tell people,” he said, looking around. “I thought this was supposed to be confidential.”

  “Oh, it is,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone else who you are.”

  “Well, since you know who I am, who the hell are you?”

  Surprisingly, she didn’t take offense and answered him. “I’m Yolanda,” she said. “Group leader, one of the many.”

  “I must be losing my touch,” he murmured.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, frowning.

  “I just insulted you and you didn’t react,” he replied.

  “It’s the twelve-step program. Have a seat,” she said, pointing. “We’ll start in just a minute.”

  After just a few meetings, he knew the routine, the same at every location - the Serenity Prayer, then going around in the circle with introductions: I’m Ken and I’m an alcoholic (drug abuser, sex addict, how much do you want to know?) and then the next guy and the next and the next. Ken blocked them out after the first meeting - the lingo, the pitiful explanations some of them gave. Shut the fuck up and stop making excuses, he wanted to shout. The only reason I’m here is because I love to drink, but I need my job more. Shut up!

  After that, the speaker went to the podium and fought a useless battle with the microphone, giving up and talking in a normal voice, which Ken could hear just fine.

  “Some of you are here today because you’re compelled to come. Perhaps traffic court mandated you must attend AA for six months to avoid losing your license. Or Family Court won’t allow visits with your children unless you can prove you’re in recovery.

  “You might be asking yourself how you got in this predicament in the first place. That question is important to answer, because until you know why you drink, it will be difficult to stop. It’s going to be tough anyway. Having a reason to go after will help.

  “This week, ask yourself a question. What am I giving up by not drinking? That’s all. Write down thoughts as they come to you and you might find an answer in the words. What am I giving up by staying sober?

  “That’s all for today. See you again next time.”

  The speaker walked away from the group, obviously wanting to avoid any personal discussions. Therapy wasn’t the scope of AA. Ken thought about the question. There was definitely a progression in the speaker’s words. First, you had to not drink. Stop it. Don’t do it. Don’t plan for it. Don’t buy it. Don’t drink with your family, your mother, but most of all, don’t drink by yourself.

  Next, you had to stay sober, supposing you achieved sobriety. How in hell was that going to happen? Ken loved being high. All of his anxieties disappeared. Keyword! Anxiety. Me, anxious? No way.

  “Are you okay?” It was Yolanda.

  Dazed, he looked up at her. Concerned, she put a hand on his shoulder, and the warmth from it traveled through his chest, down through his pelvis, into his groin. The sensation awoke his penis, but that was about it. He also liked being high to have sex. He pulled out the attendance card for her signature. “Can you sign this now?”

  “Sure,�
�� she answered, taking it from him. “I always get something out of these meetings, especially the speaker. I like this speaker.”

  “Do you want to have sex?” he asked, looking up at her.

  Baffled that he’d said that, she wasn’t really his type, with mouse brown hair that was straight and dull, she smelled like old shoes. But she was there, in the present.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m lonely. It’s been a long time.”

  She reached for his hand and helped him stand. “Follow me.”

  Walking through a labyrinth of hallways, they came to a locked room. She got a key from the top of the door frame and unlocked the door. A large window embedded with chicken wire, painted black for privacy, was on the opposite wall. It was a library of sorts, with an old leather chaise lounge against the wall.

  “No one will bother us in here,” she said, leading him to sit down on the chaise.

  “Do you come here often?” he asked, startling her.

  “No! Just to rest, alone.”

  Reaching under her skirt, she pulled white underpants off and stuck them in her sweater pocket. She put her hand on his shoulders and gently pushed him back. He didn’t do anything; she unzipped his pants, managed to get his flaccid penis in working condition, rolled a condom on it, and then straddled him. She buried her head in his neck while she slowly moved, and it didn’t take long for him to get into it, holding her by the waist, lifting her up and down until he came.

  It exhausted him, and he leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. What was the difference between this, screwing a woman he had no desire for, and having a drink? The only thing he could think of was the job. There was no way they could test him for having sex.

  After he dropped his suitcases off at Kate’s, Augie walked down to the coffee shop to see if Reggie was working. Instead he found Ken slumped over, staring into the coffee cup.

  “Do you see anything in there?”

  Ken looked up at his big brother, and pulled a chair out for him. “Yes. I see that I’m a fuck up. Is that a surprise?”