Love-Lines
Page 29
They finally found seats Arnie was happy with. He liked being somewhere midway so that they could take in the entire track but still close enough to see what he called the “look of determination” on the horses’ faces. Fordham thought the horses looked more like they wanted to eat than anything else.
Finally, the horses were lined up at the gate. Then the bell sounded, and they were off. Fordham watched all the people standing and cheering. Some guy was talking really fast over a speaker, telling everyone which horses were running the fastest. She kept hearing the name of her horse. Arnie was standing and cheering, and she stood up and cheered right along with him. The next thing she knew, Arnie picked her up high in the air like a trophy and kissed her cheek as KaptnKangaroo crossed the finish line first and Foolforlove followed.
They went to the window to collect their winnings and then to a little concession stand for a Coke. Arnie asked her if she wanted anything, and amongst all the little toys and trinkets, she showed him a ring with an adjustable band.
“Fordie, do you know what kind of ring that is?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Pretty. Like Mommy’s,” she answered, handing it to him to buy.
“It’s called an engagement ring. Someday, when you’re all grown up, you’re going to get a real one from a lucky man who will ask you to marry him.”
“I’m going to marry you, Daddy.” She kissed him.
He gave her a hug, bought her the ring, and asked if she wanted anything else. But in that moment, there was nothing else she could ask for. Her father was beaming and happy to be with her. And even better, he told her that seeing the horses was only supposed to be for grown-ups. It was their special secret that no one, including her mother, should ever know about.
They returned to the ticket window and Arnie asked her to pick another horse.
“Why are we staying, Daddy?”
“Because we won. You picked the right horse. You’re lucky.”
They each chose another horse and went back to their seats to watch the next race.
“You see, honey,” Arnie explained, “you pick a horse because it looks like a winner, and you hope really hard that you’re right. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the horse you think looks best isn’t.”
This race was one of those times. At the end, Arnie muttered a couple of words her mother had told her never to say.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?”
“We lost, Fordie.”
“Does that mean we’re leaving?”
“No, honey. We need to stay.”
“You said we had to stay because we won,” she said.
“Well, now we have to stay because we lost. Daddy doesn’t like to give up, and you shouldn’t either.” He gave her a hug and promised her ice cream if she behaved.
Fordham was less than pleased with his decision and was getting fussy. She told Arnie to pick the next horse for her and whined that she was getting hungry. He told her to quiet down and that he would get her something to eat after the race was over.
Fordham could not stop fidgeting and playing with her ring. She kept putting it in her mouth and back on her finger until she decided to throw it up in the air then caught it on her tongue before it slid right down her throat. She tried coughing to get it back up, but it didn’t work.
“Daddy,” she cried, “I swallowed my ring.”
The horses were at the gate, but when Arnie saw the tears rolling down her face, he picked her up and rushed her out of the park. While they were in the car, he kept asking her if she could breathe, and she kept answering that she was fine. But he still brought her to the emergency room of a nearby hospital. Every case of poison sumac or poison ivy was waiting along with them, and after a couple of hours, Fordham had had enough.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whined.
Arnie surveyed the room then looked at his watch. “Here have some of this,” he said, bringing his Timex up to her mouth.
FORDHAM HAD KEPT THEIR secret and held that day in her heart as a gift she would let herself open from time to time. She finally accepted that Arnie had been an addict who fought a daily battle to overcome the pain of his feelings of inferiority. He lived under the delusion that his success had something to do with what he could offer from his hand instead of from his heart. It was a mistake that cost him his self-respect and undoubtedly pieces of his soul, but that was the deal he’d made in his moment with the unsympathetic devil he’d invited to invade every corner of his happiness.
Cheers came from the crowd, breaking Fordham’s memories as her horse crossed the finish line in first place. Instinctively, she stood up and honored her unexpected victory. A long shot—Arnie had probably arranged it. Maybe he owed it to her. One could never accuse him of being passive when he wanted something. Like the old man in The Old Man and the Sea, he’d clung to the hope that someday, he would reel in the big one. In truth, Fordham realized, he’d been no more imperfect than any other father who struggled to be the man his family wanted to see. For some, being that man came with a heavier load and a higher price tag than for others. Arnie might have faltered, but his determination to be the unwavering hero had remained steady.
As she hurried to the window to collect her money, Fordham searched the crowd. All the faces were unfamiliar. Some looked pained, others joyful, but there was no one who could give her answers or guarantee what the road ahead would yield.
On her way back to the car, Fordham paused to take in the night sky. She had come to see her father somewhere in the middle of his heaven and hell to let him know that she forgave him. She was ready to let go of the past and move forward in life and in love. It was probably the last place he’d expected to find her, but when she saw the first star of the evening twinkle, she knew Arnie was there, sending her his love.
FORDHAM NEEDED TO MAKE one more stop before heading home and sharing her news. Her old high school parking lot was full. That night was registration for adult-education classes. She had gotten a pamphlet, and Whitty had mentioned that David was teaching a class. All the classrooms would be open, giving her the perfect opportunity to visit the school on her terms.
Fordham entered through the main entrance. At her prom date with Aaron, they had been confined to the auditorium, and she’d been too invested in the moment to care about visiting the rest of the school. But now it seemed vital for her to go up and down the familiar halls to visit the past and connect with the history that had influenced her decision to make Aaron her future.
Fordham never wanted to move away from home. She’d always imagined Whitty tracing her footsteps down these very same halls and wondered if she would make friends like Evie and Marv, each of whom was still a constant in her life. She wanted Whitty to experience the same sense of comfort and belonging that she had, and even though Fordham knew that most of that came from within, she still equated familiarity and continuity with security.
Fordham passed by the main office and lingered at the display cases hanging on the wall. Several were dedicated to the school’s history and included pictures of each class president through the years. Aaron’s picture was there, showcasing his dimples and his muscular frame in a royal-blue Qiana shirt. There were trophies and pictures chronicling sports and academic events, including a picture of her winning an award for the debate team. It amazed her that this wall could speak so richly to her about the past.
She glanced down at her ring and remembered how much she had wanted Aaron to propose to her before they went away to college. Evie told her she was out of her mind to think of making that kind of commitment when they were so young and inexperienced. Marriage was romantic but unrealistic. She and Marv were being mature and practical. They’d agreed to see other people when they went away to school, and if they were meant to be together, their relationship would be stronger after that. Of course, all that went out the window when neither one of them could stand to be apart. They’d ended up getting married while they were still struggling students, and to this day, they n
ever hinted at missing the adventures they had voluntarily forfeited.
Fordham continued down the hall to the cafeteria. A few people were sitting at tables, drinking cans of soda and eating bags of chips from the vending machines. There’d been no vending machines when she was in school. She was standing at one machine, toying with the idea of getting a candy bar, when a hand dropped coins into the slot.
“So, what are you signing up for?” a familiar voice asked as the hand retrieved a Reese’s Peanut Butter Bar.
“Hi, David,” she said, unsurprised. “Nothing. I’m just visiting. This was my high school. Whitty mentioned you were going to teach ‘grown-ups.’ What course?”
“Poetry,” he said, offering her a bite of his candy.
He was being his usual pleasant, friendly self. It was a good thing that being engaged hadn’t changed him much.
She bit off a corner. “That makes sense.” The candy bar was in perfect range, and she boldly chomped off more of it.
“Funny. We always seem to be at the same place at the same time,” he said, unwrapping the candy bar a little bit more.
“I was just thinking that,” she said, watching him take another bite.
“Guess it’s fate,” he said, gazing into her eyes a little too deeply.
“Could be, but this is a pretty small town.” She brought her hand up to her mouth to brush away a crumb.
David cupped her fingers to look at the ring. “That new?”
She doubted it looked anything like the ring he gave Pam. “Yes, it is,” she said, slightly taken aback by his gesture. “Aaron proposed. His business deal came through, and we’re leaving for California. Tomorrow.”
David tensed his lips in something like a scowl but ultimately refused to be that judgmental. “Wow. That’s a pretty big step. How does Whitty feel about this?”
“She doesn’t know yet,” Fordham admitted sheepishly.
He didn’t seem to want to share the news of his proposal to Pam, and she certainly wasn’t going to admit she was stalking him and had watched it unfold firsthand. “He was my first love,” she offered as if trying to excuse herself.
“Does that mean he has to be your last?”
“At this stage of the game, how many chances do you get?”
“I don’t know. Maybe as many as you need.” He moved his face closer to hers.
Her heart quickened, and she was almost certain he wanted to kiss her. “David, I should tell you something.” She wasn’t sure if this was the right time or place, but before she stepped into her new life, she needed to tell him how much his submission had meant to her.
A security guard came over to them to tell David that there was a group waiting for him in a classroom down the hall and that they needed him there immediately.
“Sorry, I have to run. What did you want to tell me?”
There was nothing more to say. The universe had stepped in yet again. David was a good guy. He had already gone through more than his share of difficulties, so why burden him with her complicated life? Pam was young and simple with a family David already knew and loved. She would be an easier package for him to handle. Eventually, he would forget about her and whatever had been developing between them. Fordham had to assume they both would.
“Just... goodbye. I’ll see you... when I see you,” she said wistfully.
“Bye, Fordham,” he said, hugging her. “I’m going to miss you.”
David walked briskly down the hall, and Fordham whispered, “I’m going to miss you too,” wondering if she would ever see him again.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Some Like It Not
There was no sense delaying the inevitable any further. Fordham was going to go home and calmly tell Whitty and Dorie that she was about to yank the new foundation they had been building right out from under them. The move was a matter of practicality, and it came with the realization that life had its own schedule, and not everything happened when she would have wished. In this case, Aaron’s proposal was more than a couple of decades late, but at least it had come, and in that spirit, she would accept it.
She said it out loud: “I am going to marry Aaron Karp.” It didn’t sound bad. It just sounded dated.
Fordham pulled up to the house and sighed in relief when she saw the lights off. In all the chaos, she had forgotten to charge her phone. Maybe Dorie had taken Whitty out for ice cream when she couldn’t reach Fordham. Had Fordham been younger, Dorie would have already sent a SWAT team out to track her down.
She was retrieving the book-cover samples from the back seat when the lights flashed on. It must have been one of those stupid brownouts again. Her heart flip-flopped, and she had to remind herself that it was her life and she was in control. Her decision was final, and as long as her resolve remained steady, she would get through this conversation and still have time to pack.
Fordham bounced through the door like Judge Judy entering her courtroom, but when she heard Whitty and Dorie laughing in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but soften. She tossed her things down on a table and debated letting her news wait until the morning. She even considered writing a letter, keeping her explanation short and the goodbye quick. Granted, it would only be delaying the inevitable, but the extra time was tempting. Then she had a flash of Sex and the City, when Berger left Carrie a breakup note on a Post-It. Carrie had been traumatized for the entire season. Granted, the situation was different, but the cowardice would be the same. Fordham couldn’t do that to Whitty or her mother. It would be unfair and unforgivable.
She put on Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life,” opened a box of Raisinets, and tried to pump herself up again before facing the jury. Whitty and Dorie were almost on cue, greeting her before she got to the kitchen. Whitty was holding a large piece of oaktag, and Dorie was carrying a bowl of cherries.
“Mom, look at this. I’m making it for my family project for school,” Whitty said, handing Fordham the sketch. “Where did you get that,” she continued, pointing at the ring, “the downtown flea market? I hate their junk.”
“I have to tell you... tell you both something,” Fordham said, the words spilling out like a drum roll.
Whitty and Dorie looked at each other, raising their eyebrows in unison, then shifted their attention to Fordham.
“Aaron proposed, and I said yes.”
“Why would you do a dumb thing like that?” Whitty challenged.
“Really?” Dorie’s eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
“Mother, some support here, please,” Fordham pleaded. “Aaron is a good man, and he’ll give us a nice life. In California.”
“California?” Whitty shrieked. “There is no way I’m going to live in the smoothie capital of America. Do you know there are bars there where you have to pay to breathe?” She picked up her poster, crying, “Go if you want, but I’m staying with Mom-Mom. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun getting helium shots in your forehead and flirting with pool guys while Aaron is busy getting women pregnant.” Whitty stomped out of the room.
Fordham ran her hand across her forehead and sighed. Whitty’s reaction had been even more intense than she’d expected.
“Sweetheart,” Dorie said, taking the same tone she’d used when Fordham was a child and skinned her knee, “have you really thought this through?”
“Sometimes thinking clouds your judgment.”
“And what are you planning to do about this?” Dorie said, crossing over to a drawer and pulling out a copy of David’s submission.
“Where did you get that?” Fordham snapped the paper from Dorie’s hand.
“It was stashed under the pot holders in the utility drawer. Don’t worry—there’s another one hanging on the wall in your room. I noticed it when I was trying to find my slippers.” Dorie crossed her arms. “I thought someone might have left them there... that night. It was right there, so I read it.”
“Okay... so?” Fordham asked.
“I know it’s David’s.”
“How do you kno
w? The only one I told was... ugh, Evie. She told you!”
“She had to,” Dorie said.
“How many bullets were in the gun?”
“She loves you, Fordham. We all do.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. So the submission is David’s. What does that change?”
“Quite possibly your life,” Dorie said, cupping Fordham’s chin in her hand. “I see the way he looks at you and how he shows up where he thinks you might be.” Dorie shelved the cherries and moved out heavier artillery: a box of crumb doughnuts. “He’s falling for you, Fordham, if he hasn’t already fallen. It’s as obvious as one of these”—Dorie held up a doughnut before taking a bite—“at a Weight Watchers convention.”
“Mom, Aaron loves me,” Fordham explained, pulling away to get a bottle of Advil from the end-table drawer. “He’s loved me since we were kids. He helped lay the groundwork for me to become who I am.”
“The cement is still wet. He can leave his footprints, but he doesn’t have to claim the whole block.”
“You don’t understand. Aaron and I have history. He gives me everything I need.”
“Fordham, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You only think you need to turn back the clock. The truth is that everything Aaron gives you—the memories, the financial security, the love of music, the confidence in your beauty—well, maybe not that one. But most of those are things you’ve already given yourself.”
FORDHAM SPENT A RESTLESS night awake, even after downing a guggle muggle—the mixture of warm milk, honey, and butter her grandmother had sworn could cure insomnia. All those calories, and not one dream to show for them. She wondered if Whitty was feeling any better. She’d fallen asleep before Fordham had the chance to talk to her again.
It was 7:15 a.m. Aaron would be picking her up in a couple of hours. Fordham slammed off her alarm and got up to start packing. Fortunately, the crux of the showdown was over. Other than some last-minute sniping, Fordham didn’t anticipate any major setbacks to impede her plans. She went on her computer to check her emails. Abe had sent her a cute e-card of a kitten doing a crossword puzzle to wish her well. The book was pretty much done, and he had no problem with her working remotely to deal with the finishing touches. He said they would Skype, and she was proud that he’d conceded to opening an account.