Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Remember you carried me in on our first date,” she reminded him.

  “Do you want me to do it again?” he asked, holding his arms out.

  “No, no it’s not necessary,” she replied, laughing. “But that was very chivalrous of you.”

  “I’m a chivalrous kind of guy,” he said. “By the way, we’re eating in the dining room again.”

  “We are? What’s the occasion?”

  “Well, two things,” he said, once they were seated. “First of all, I’ll buy an apartment with you.”

  “You will? Why?” she asked.

  “Because if we’re married, we should both be on the deed,” he said, smiling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring box and pushed it over to her. “Open it.”

  “Oh, Larry,” she cried, taking the box and opening it. It wasn’t the biggest diamond she’d ever seen, but so like Larry, it was just big enough to cause envy among her friends. “It’s beautiful!”

  “Let me,” he said, taking the ring out of the box. Holding on to her hand, he slipped it on, a perfect fit. The stone even looked bigger against her tiny fingers.

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “You didn’t say whether you’d marry me or not,” he said, grinning.

  “Yes! Of course,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “Do you want to have a wedding?” he asked, watching her carefully. He wanted a big one; if she didn’t, he might have a problem with it. His family was all about the big, ostentatious production.

  “Yes, I want a wedding,” she stated with determination. “I want the white dress, the church decorated in white roses, ten attendants, my dad walking me down the aisle.”

  “That’s what I want, too,” he said, leaning over the table to kiss her. “June?”

  “Do we have time to plan a June wedding? I heard venues are booked years in advance,” she said, worried.

  “Well, let’s try for June,” he said. “I’m sure we can find someplace to have a reception. I don’t really care where we have it as long as it’s a big party. I want the honeymoon, too.”

  Grabbing each other’s hands, they laughed, imagining the ceremony, dancing with their friends, driving away in a festooned car, and spending the first night together in a hotel as man and wife.

  “Oh, I wish we’d waited to have sex,” she said, sad.

  “No you don’t,” he countered. “All the awkwardness is past. We can wait until June to do it again if it’ll make you feel better. No, forget that,” he said, laughing. “I’m not waiting. We’ll spend the entire night together in the same bed for the first time, that’s almost the same thing.”

  “I guess this means you have to meet my parents,” she said. “I was going to wait but since we’re engaged… we are engaged, right?”

  “Absolutely. We’re engaged,” Larry said, grinning.

  “Well, that means we have to meet the parents,” she said.

  “Are you ready to take a trip?” he asked.

  “To Pittsburgh?” she asked, where his parents lived.

  “Correct,” he said. “Let’s go before winter. You don’t want to get stuck in a Pittsburgh snowstorm with those hills.”

  “We can go any weekend,” Brenda replied. “Are you up to seeing my family on Sunday? It’s the only day everyone’s home.”

  “Sunday it is,” Larry said.

  Brenda called her mother the next morning. She’d kept her family in the dark about Dr. Babula, but now that the ring had made an appearance, she felt confident that he was going to stick around.

  Estelle was beside herself. “Oh, I’m so happy for you! And you say he’s Polish? Are his people in the old country? Your father will be thrilled.”

  Getting her children educated was Ray Lipinski’s job, but seeing them settled, married; that was Estelle’s jurisdiction. It would mean more to Ray that the groom was Polish; Estelle focused more on their standing in Saint Brigid’s and the children’s accolades in school. For Brenda to marry a doctor was a huge achievement. Estelle would begin capitalizing on it right away by arranging for the engagement photos.

  “Have you discussed dates yet?” she asked Brenda.

  “Can I bring him by to meet you and Dad on Sunday? I thought we’d have dinner with the family and set dates then. My concern is a venue for the reception. I’m not sure nine months is enough time.”

  “It’s enough time,” Estelle said, determined to get Brenda married as soon as possible. “We’ll find a place even if it’s the Divine Hall.”

  “Mother, we’re not that desperate. I’d rather have it at the American Legion,” Brenda replied, referring to a dark brick building on the corner of their street in West Philadelphia.

  “Would you be okay with the Polish American Club?”

  “That would be fine,” Brenda said. “We’ll set a date and you can call.”

  “Leave it to me,” Estelle said. “All you have to do is show up.”

  After they hung up, Estelle sprang into action. The first thing she did was call Ray and leave a message with his secretary, Marybeth, to have him call home as soon as possible.

  “Is everything alright?” Marybeth asked.

  “Oh my yes! Brenda is engaged to a doctor!”

  “How exciting! I won’t tell him though,” she said. “I’ll let you spring the surprise. I haven’t been to a good wedding in so long!”

  “And he’s Polish!” Estelle said. “It’ll be grand. Okay, I have to hang up. Thank you and be sure to tell him.”

  Grabbing a pad of paper and pen, Estelle began her list, a timeline of jobs that when finished would encompass her oldest child’s wedding.

  ***

  Moving day! Three weeks before Thanksgiving, Brenda and Larry took possession of 21 Pine Street, an Italianate Victorian brownstone in a prestigious block. Larry would keep his apartment for appearances; Ray Lipinski was dead set against them living together.

  “If my cousins could see me now,” Larry said, looking around at every piece of molding, each windowsill, the kitchen cupboards, the toilets and sinks and bathtubs.

  “When I said I wanted to move to Pine Street, I had a condo in mind. Why did we think we needed all this space?” Brenda asked, frowning. “How will I ever clean it?”

  “We’ll hire someone. My favorite housekeeper at work is looking for extra jobs. She’d love to clean for us.”

  “Okay, arrange it,” Brenda said, “because I’m losing hope fast.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said. “This is my dream house. When my parents followed me here to the States, I wished I had a place just like this where they could live.”

  Terrified at the implication, Brenda kicked at imaginary dust on the floor. “Are you going to ask them to move in with us?”

  “I wish I could but they’d never leave that house in Pittsburgh with her sisters living next door,” he said. “You saw it. My mother made a mini Warsaw in her living room.”

  “It was cute,” Brenda said, hiding her relief. “My mom is the complete opposite. You didn’t see one memento outside of school photos and a dried-up palm frond left over from Palm Sunday tucked behind a cross. If it’s not Catholic, it’s not in that house.”

  Larry didn’t reply. It was true he was mildly shocked at the shabby condition of the Lipinski house on their Sunday dinner in September. Scuffed wood floors, the finish worn down to bare wood, threadbare furniture, and even the curtains at the front windows appeared to have been shredded by the family cat.

  Sunday dinner was served in the tiny eat-in kitchen because the small dining room held a plethora of ham radio equipment, boxes and boxes of outdated components stacked almost to the ceiling.

  Bookshelves lined every available wall packed with tomes and volumes and sets of books. It wasn’t a library for show either; books well-read were stacked haphazardly, two deep in places. The younger children were sprawled on chairs and couches lined up in front of the shelving, enough seating for everyone and their friends, all wit
h an open book on their lap. Outside of the ham radio, there were no modern electronics in the house that Larry could see; no television, computer, iPad or even a cell phone. It was definitely the home of a literary family.

  The hallway staircase leading up to the second floor was cluttered with folded clothes and the belongings of a family of nine, (one less since Brenda moved out). On the wall were a collection of school photos of each child for every year of attendance. It started with an adorable kindergarten picture of Brenda in her little Catholic school uniform, to her law school graduation picture, the beautiful Brenda Larry knew.

  Dinner was announced, and the family came in single file and found their spots around a small table with a card table extension and eleven chairs jammed in. Once seated, a diner was trapped. Estelle alone served, passing a giant platter of potato pancakes and bowls of applesauce and fried cabbage around the table first, and then the largest pork roast Larry had ever seen.

  In Polish, he asked if they had to go to the barnyard to get such a monstrosity and Ray Lipinski gave out a loud guffaw. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we get a whole pig from an Amish farmer out in Lancaster,” he answered in English.

  Homemade rolls, mushroom pierogis, and fruit salad rounded out the meal and Larry ate until he was stuffed. Observing the family while they were relaxed around the table gave Larry additional insight into Brenda. She was complicated, and he’d been unable to get a complete read on her.

  Sex with her was an enigma. Not exactly insatiable, Brenda was always ready for him. But there was obviously a small part of her she was holding back. Something. Not normally an inquisitive man, Larry was a live and let live kind of guy. But marrying someone with secrets scared him. Conservative and traditional, he knew it was unrealistic to presume others would comply. Outwardly, Brenda was a decent, upright human being, and that was all he could expect from her.

  ***

  A week after Brenda and Larry moved into their grown-up home, Terry Kovac’s realtor, John, met her at the front door of a three story Victorian twin, handing over a skeleton key. The third floor alone was hers. The day was a remarkable late fall day, a blue, blue sky with puffy white clouds moving quickly up above.

  “No way,” she said, looking at the key in the palm of her hand.

  “Original door, original key,” he said nodding to the lock. “After you.”

  “I’m so excited I don’t know if I can open it,” she said, giggling.

  The key slipped in and she turned the tumbler, a comforting sound she looked forward to hearing in the future. As soon as the door opened, the downstairs resident, Earle, an octogenarian famous for his beautifully painted landscapes, opened the French doors leading to his apartment.

  “Oh, I’m so happy to know you,” he said after the introduction. “We were told a nice young lawyer was moving in. Everyone should have a lawyer, a dentist and a veterinarian in the family. Benny lives on the second floor but he works nights and sleeps during the day.”

  “I’ll be extra quiet then,” Terry said, before saying goodbye.

  At the top of the third-floor landing, John pulled out another, more modern key. “Welcome home,” he said, smiling.

  A blast of fragrant air blew out when the door opened; reminiscent of radiators and floor polish and old wood. Not wanting to shed tears in front of the realtor, she wished he’d leave her and go away, but he was homing in.

  “Would you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked after they’d walked through the apartment.

  Caught off guard, she thought on her feet. “I’m sorry, John,” she said apologetically. “I actually have a date tonight.”

  It was a lie; she was seeing Arvin when the mood struck Arvin. Sadly, as much as she liked him, their relationship had already deteriorated to the booty call, where it would remain for the next few years, and she would say later that it was the longest lasting breakup in recorded history.

  “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Is it serious?”

  “It could be,” she said, lying again. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”

  “Well, if anything changes,” he said, “I hope you’ll give me a call. I’ve really enjoyed spending the last few weeks with you. I’ve looked forward to your calls.”

  “John, that’s so nice,” she said, feeling a little guilty.

  But that was all she felt. There was absolutely zero chemistry between them. Not like with Arvin. The first time she saw Arvin, she was smitten. Arvin was witty and smart, handsome, with an exotic, foreign appearance. Her father would hate him. Not a racist, Harry was provincial in the extreme. Possibly that knowledge about Harry kept the relationship superficial; she was grasping for any excuse to explain its failure to move forward when the truth was she was still trying to please her father.

  Walking John to the door, she kept the conversation light, thanking him again for finding her the apartment of her dreams.

  “It was easy,” he said. “You gave me a list and I just made sure this one had everything you asked for.”

  Hesitating at the door, John was hoping for more and Terry sensed it, so she didn’t engage him further.

  “Thank you again, John,” she said, smiling, holding the door open.

  “Well, goodbye then,” he said, turning to descend the porch steps.

  Closing the door before he could come back, Terry couldn’t wait to get back upstairs and smell her apartment with no one else there. Her mother and father would arrive in a few minutes with some of her boxes. For now, she’d have a blow-up mattress, a card table and four chairs, and several plastic containers with kitchen supplies, a coffee pot, wineglasses, and a corkscrew.

  She waited at the big round window in her new living room, looking out over the city. At the cusp of winter, autumn color was no longer at its peak. Most of the leaves had changed and fallen. The smell of smoke in the air crept into the apartment through the old windows revealing the illegal burning of leaves, bringing a smile to her face. Some of the rights of fall deserved to be preserved.

  The parking area for the house was in back and she ran down the steps again to get her suitcases. One suitcase contained the sheets and towels she’d used in her law school apartment in Ann Arbor. Another held her makeup and toiletries, another with shoes. Business clothes were hanging on a bar across the backseat that Harry had installed. By the time he pulled up, she’d emptied her car and could help her parents empty theirs.

  “Oh, this is really nice, dear!” Elizabeth Kovac said, looking around. “It’s so different from the northeast.”

  “Because it’s the northwest,” Harry mumbled, not quite willing to express the positive feelings he had about the place.

  It was inevitable that his only daughter would move out of the family home. She was an attorney at the largest criminal defense firm in Philadelphia; it was unreasonable to expect she’d live at home forever. However, he wasn’t above laying a little guilt on her for leaving, especially to this neighborhood that was as far from their home as if it were in a different country, a phrase Terry had used until Harry was tired of hearing it.

  “Dad, you have to admit it’s a nice house,” Terry said, forcing him to look at her.

  “Okay, so it’s nice. I’m not convinced the neighborhood is all that safe,” he added.

  “I promise I’ll stay alert,” she said, not admitting that she had concerns about walking home from the train after dark.

  “You do that,” he said.

  Within a half an hour, they had everything from the car into the apartment, the bed blown up, the table and chairs set up in the living room, and Harry was installing his gift to her, an oversized flat-screen television.

  “Terry doesn’t watch much TV,” Elizabeth said gently.

  “This is for me,” he replied, and they all laughed. “Now you just have to call the cable company. I have a small TV for your bedroom, too.”

  “I’ll make the call first thing Monday,” Terry promised.

  They ordered
lunch in, and afterward, Harry and Elizabeth left for home, leaving Terry alone. The card table and chairs were in front of the big, round window which overlooked the treetops. She wondered if the view would change much when the trees were in leaf again. It was panoramic over the city. Clouds came in from the east, and the wind whipped up leaves dancing long the street. Unseen but heard, the train came up the hill a block away and stopped at the station. It was the train she’d take to Center City every day.

  The K bus came to a screeching halt in front of her driveway, and six people got off, walking in different directions. Someone came running up the hill and got there just in time before the doors closed. The bus ambled down the street with a line of Saturday traffic behind it. Slowly, the rhythm of the neighborhood Terry would grow to love unfolded before her.

  ***

  At five, Terry’s phone rang. “It’s Brenda. Are you moved in?”

  “I am, sort of. I’ll have to go online later and buy furniture. I’m lying on a blow-up mattress right now. ”

  “We’re using all Larry’s old junk,” Brenda said, looking around. “My stuff went right to the curb. It’s going to stay like this for a while. I don’t even know why we bought such a big place! It’s ridiculous.”

  “Honey, it was a good investment,” Terry said, hearing fear in Brenda’s voice.

  “You don’t think he wants to fill it with kids, do you?” Brenda asked.

  “Did he say he wanted a big family?” Terry replied, mortified that her friend hadn’t resolved that issue. “Maybe you’d better talk about it before the wedding.”

  “I always change the subject,” she said. “I don’t even want kids.”

  “Oh, well…” Terry said, at a loss.

  “Larry’s on call tonight,” Brenda said. “Do you feel like coming downtown? I’m ready for bar food and a bottle of beer.”

  “I’d love it,” Terry said. “I’ll drive though. I’m not sure of the train at night yet.”

  “You won’t be able to drink,” Brenda said, disappointed. “Oh wait! Forget I said that. You can stay with us.”