The Swear Jar

  An elderly woman walked along the sidewalk with a type of bag he recognized from the convenience store. She was short, very thin, wore glasses and had white hair in a tight bun. She spotted him on the stairs. She waved her cane.

  “Hello there! You must be one of Mike’s renters. I’m Dorothy. I live next door. I was expecting that young couple with the three loud children, but I guess they changed their minds.”

  “Hello, I’m Duncan. I’m a friend of Mike’s. The other people backed out and we came down for the week.”

  “You and the young lady with the blond hair? Your daughter’s very pretty. A little chubby, but still pretty.”

  His spine stiffened. “Meara’s not chubby. She’s healthy and fit. She’s also NOT my daughter. She’s my girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend? Robbing the cradle, are you? Are you one of those sugar daddies I hear so much about on TV? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should be with someone your own age and thinking about retirement in Florida. Are the women your own age not good enough? Got to go younger? Men your age think they have so much to prove and they’re not thinking at all with their brains. If you know what I mean. Let me guess? She’s a little playmate to replace the wife you divorced after she caught you cheating?”

  “Certainly not! Meara’s not a playmate or my mistress. She’s an honorable young woman. I can’t say the same for you, Dorothy. I would say it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I would be lying. Good evening.”

  He stalked across the porch and slammed the door behind him. He found Meara in the kitchen. The food was ready and she was setting the table. He went to the kitchen sink. He washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He was angry. His face was beet red. He tried to calm down before she saw his face.

  “What happened? Is everything all right at the library? Duncan. What’s wrong?” She touched him on the shoulder.

  He flinched and pulled away. “I met our neighbor, Dorothy. I think I know why those people decided to cancel their week here. Luckily, she can’t see into the backyard or into the house. She’s horrible.”

  “Let’s sit down to dinner. We can talk about her or not. I see you have another bottle in the refrigerator. It looks like a nice wine.” She cooed, hoping to soothe him.

  He got out the wine and found the corkscrew. The ache in his chest was back. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet. He took a seat next to her at the table. He poured the wine. She was concerned, but she kept quiet. She gave him time to relax. She nervously drank her wine and ate a little food. He pushed food around on his plate. He wasn’t drinking the wine, but he was calmer.

  “Is something wrong with the food?” she asked.

  He shook his head. The ache in his chest got worse. She was nervously rubbing his hand.

  “What did she say?” she asked coaxingly.

  “She called you my daughter.” He could barely spit it out.

  “That’s what has you upset? Did you tell her I’m not your daughter, but your girlfriend? It’s a stupid mistake. What makes her horrible?”

  “I told her you’re my girlfriend. She also called you pretty, but chubby.”

  “She’s right. I appreciate the pretty, but I am chubby. Go on. What else did she say?” she laughed.

  He didn’t smile. “She said I was robbing the cradle, I’m a sugar daddy, and I should be ashamed of myself. I should be with someone my own age and retire. I’m not thinking with my brain. I’m married and we’re having an affair. You’re my little playmate.”

  She frowned. “She does sound horrible. What a bitch. What did you say to her?”

  “I told her you were an honorable young woman and I couldn’t say the same for her.”

  “Good for you. And thank you. Why are you so upset? She’s a busybody. Don’t let her bother you.”

  He put down his fork and stared at his plate. The ache in his chest throbbed. He had to say what was on his mind. He had to get it out and tell her his fears.

  “Maybe Dorothy is right,” he said quietly.

  “Right? Right about what?”

  “Maybe I am too old for you. Maybe I’m not thinking with my brain.”

  “What does that mean?” Meara, feeling the butterflies in her stomach stomping madly, took a gulp of wine.

  “Maybe it isn’t fair for you to be with me. I’m older than you. Maybe you won’t want to be with me if I can’t be with you physically. Or if I get sick. And you’ll leave.”

  “Wait. You’re confusing the hell out of me. We talked about this. The age difference doesn’t matter to me. I thought you understood how I felt. Why did you pursue me if it was going to bother you? Why did you tell me you loved me if you thought you were too old for me? Why did you sleep with me? Why did you want all of me if you had doubts? You don’t love me. You’re using me.” Her voice was strained, her face turning red from the wine.

  “I’m not using you. I do love you. I don’t want you to regret loving me.” This was not going well and he realized she was panicking.

  “I would never regret loving you. I wouldn’t leave you if we couldn’t make love. I wouldn’t feel like I HAD to stay with you. I would stay because I WANT to. I would WANT to take care of you. What if something happened to me? What if I got sick? Would you leave me? I don’t think you love me. This age thing is an excuse. How many people have we met think we’re good for each other? And one person makes all that crash down? You got what you wanted out of me. I’m such a fool. You used me and now you’re hiding behind your age. If you don’t love me, then I don’t love you. Or you think I don’t love you and if I don’t love you, you don’t love me. Makes perfect FUCKING sense to me. Either way, you have doubts. It’s over.”

  She stood up, finishing her glass of wine. She swayed a little as she left him at the table. She walked towards the stairs. He sat, shocked and unable to move.

  “What’s over? Where are you going?” he asked anxiously.

  The ache in his chest was replaced with panic. He regretted opening his mouth before he thought about what he was saying. He stood up and watched her.

  “I’m packing my things. I’m leaving. We’re over.” She threw her hands in the air.

  Slowly she walked upstairs, determined to get to their bedroom. He followed behind her, giving her room. He had never seen her so upset. The wine had affected her greatly. She could barely walk yet she wanted to get away from him. He had hurt her. He followed her into the bedroom. She was throwing her clothes into her bag.

  “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve had too much to drink. I won’t allow you to leave,” he said sternly.

  “So what are you going to do? Lock the door and tie me to the bed again?”

  “I’ll take away your car keys and keep you here until you’re sober. We haven’t finished this discussion.” He was grasping at straws as his panic began to rise.

  She faced him, her eyes flashing angrily. “Oh yes, we’re finished. Completely finished. When I leave here, I NEVER want to see you again. I’m quitting the library.”

  He rushed towards her with his hands out. “NO!”

  She screamed, “DON’T TOUCH ME! Don’t ever touch me again.”

  She had backed into the corner of the room. She cowered, holding her hands up in front of her. He recoiled at her reaction. He had hurt her, but she acted as if he was going to hit her. Or worse. He shuddered to think what Hank had done to her. Duncan feared he was now in the same category. He had awakened her dragon and it was too late to lull it back into slumber. He cursed himself. He had made her vulnerable and he had wounded her terribly.

  He spoke soothingly, as if to a frightened animal. “Meara, you’ve had too much to drink. We’ve had a disagreement. Let’s not say or do anything rash. Let’s get you to bed and we’ll talk in the morning.”

  He moved carefully towards her. He wanted to put her to bed and hope they could sort it out in the morning. She shrank further into the corner as he approached. Her eyes blazed with hate.

  “Don’t
come near me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore. There’s no way I’m staying in the same bed with you. I may have been stupid enough to believe you loved me, but I’m not going to be your whore. I’m not going to let you use me again.”

  Shocked, he backed away from her. “I’ll leave. You stay here tonight. I’ll go to one of the other rooms.”

  “No, I don’t want to be in here anymore. I’ll take one of the other rooms. I don’t care what you do,” she hissed.

  Stumbling to the bathroom, she shoved her things into her bag. She stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her. He heard her stomp downstairs and slam another door. He sat on the bed, head in his hands. This had gone very badly. He had wanted to talk to her about how he felt, but it had come out the wrong way. Now she thought he was using her, making her a whore in her own eyes.

  He couldn’t believe she thought he would hit her. He wondered what had happened in the past to make her react that way. He hated Hank for hurting her. He wanted to fix it, but didn’t know how. He walked downstairs to the second floor. He heard muffled sobbing coming from one of the bedrooms. He wanted so badly to open the door and go to her but he didn’t want to upset her more.

  He continued downstairs. He cleared away the table and put the wine bottle back in the refrigerator. He emptied his wine glass in two gulps. He took her car keys out of her purse. He climbed the stairs to the second floor. She was quiet now. She must have cried herself to sleep. As he walked the last set of stairs, he hoped she had changed her mind and was waiting for him in bed. He took the stairs two at a time and was disappointed when he saw the room was empty.

  He climbed into bed on his side. He couldn’t lie in the middle of the bed. The other side was hers. He tried to sleep, but he tossed and turned. When he did doze off, the slightest sound woke him up. A day or two ago, he was trying to get used to her sleeping in the bed beside him. Now he had to get used to her not being there. He finally relaxed, falling into a deep sleep. In the morning, he would explain how he felt and ease her fears. He needed to be careful how he stated his thoughts and feelings.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  On Monday morning, Duncan bolted upright as sunlight hit the bed. Meara’s side was cold. She hadn’t come back. He had an ache in his chest again. He panicked, feeling alone. He heard running water from the second floor. She was showering. He got out of bed and dressed quickly. He descended to the second floor to see an open bedroom door. She had slept in the twin bed furthest from the door. The sheets were in a tangle. Yesterday’s clothes and her bag were thrown on the other bed. He sat down next to her bag, waiting for her to come back. When she appeared, she was dressed except for her sneakers. Wearing her silver rimmed eyeglasses, her eyes and nose were red and swollen from crying. His heart broke.

  “Meara,” he whispered in anguish.

  She jumped. She hadn’t seen him. Backing away from him, she sat on the other bed and put on her sneakers as quickly as she could.

  “I’m leaving for home if you’ll give me back my keys. I’m no longer feeling the effects of the wine. Will you give me my keys back or am I still your kept woman?” Her voice was so cold.

  He shivered. “You were never my kept woman. I never used you. Can’t we talk about this?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anymore. For whatever reason you have, it’s not going to work between us. So why bother?”

  He was getting angry. “If that’s how you feel, then go home. I’m not ready to go yet. I’ll give you your keys back. In the future, you may want to limit your alcohol intake. You have a nasty temper when you’re drunk.”

  He was irritated by her frosty attitude. Although he didn’t show it often, he had a temper too. She was pressing his buttons. Although they were upset with each other, he wasn’t going to let her act cold like Brenda often had.

  “I only had a nasty temper because you were acting stupid. Listening to some old biddy who doesn’t even know us. But you know what? I’m glad you met her. She got you to spit out the truth. I should thank her for getting you riled up. It’s the only way I would have found out you were lying to me and using me.”

  “I SAID I wasn’t using you. You didn’t have a problem sleeping with me on my birthday. I’m not the only one who was enjoying it. So STOP saying I was using you. You were using me too.”

  Her voice was a whisper. “No, I wasn’t. I loved you. For the first time, I let someone in all the way. I gave you everything. You didn’t do the same. You still have doubts. I had none until last night.”

  She shoved her clothes into her bag and fixed the blanket on the bed. Standing in front of him, she held out her hand. He gave her the car keys. She picked up her bag and left him sitting on the bed. She went downstairs and headed outside to load her bag into the back of the Jeep. Finding the two empty coolers, she lifted one of them and headed back out to the Jeep. He followed her, stepping forward to help her.

  “Please, I wouldn’t want you to throw out your back at your age. There could be permanent damage. I can handle it. Get out of the way.” She snapped.

  It was like a slap in the face. Surprised by her sarcasm, he stepped back and said nothing. She returned for the other cooler.

  “Since you aren’t coming back with me, I’ll leave you with all the food. I know at your age it’s hard to eat healthy. I would be happy to cut your steak into bite-sized portions. I wouldn’t use the grill by yourself, you might have an accident.” She was being cruel.

  His jaw dropped. “No, I’ll be fine, thank you. I know you want to leave as soon as possible.”

  “I do. I’ll be returning to work tomorrow. I’ll leave a resignation letter under your door, Mr. Phillips.”

  He felt as if she had sucker-punched him. She hadn’t called him Duncan. To call him Mr. Phillips was the last straw. He had had enough of her attitude.

  “You go right ahead and do that, MRS. Martin. I look forward to reading it and giving it to the Board to approve,” he said icily.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Phillips,” she said grimly.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Martin,” he replied.

  She didn’t look back. She got into the Jeep and drove off. He watched her from the kitchen doorway. As soon as the Jeep was out of sight, he closed the door. He got a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. On the counter, among the boxes of sweets from the boardwalk, was the Skeeball teddy bear. She had kept it in their bedroom, tucked up next to their pillows. She hadn’t taken it with her. He grabbed the teddy bear, hugging it. He put it to his lips and kissed it. Sitting back down at the table, tears welled up in his eyes. She was gone.

  Still hugging the bear, he went upstairs and crawled into the middle of the bed. He buried his head in the pillows, the teddy bear hooked under his arm. He fell into a deep sleep. When he woke up a few hours later, he had shifted to his side of the bed. The teddy bear was propped up as if it was her. He had even tucked the blanket around it. He didn’t want to get out of bed. So many questions ran through his head, it was overwhelming. One thing was clear. He loved her. He missed her terribly.

  He needed to understand why he was having doubts. Once he figured out why, he needed to win her back, if she would take him. He didn’t blame her for lashing out. He was wrong and had hurt her deeply after asking her to trust him. She had reminded him of Brenda, cold and distant. He didn’t want Meara to be Brenda. He needed to prove he was not Hank. He wanted to know what Hank had done to her so long ago it still made her react violently now.

  By the time Meara arrived home late Monday morning, she was all cried out for the time being. Now she was more pissed off at herself than at Duncan. Her thoughts had turned to Hank and she didn’t like where those thoughts were taking her. She pulled the Jeep up the driveway to her house.

  “Ems? I thought you were staying until Thursday?” Diana asked, crossing the yard. “Is everything okay?”

  Choking up again, Meara didn’t reply. She had her keys out to open her front door.

  “E
ms? Meara! What’s going on?” Diana roughly grabbed Meara’s shoulder and stared at her puffy, red-eyed face. “What happened? Where’s Duncan?”

  Meara strained to speak. “It’s over.”

  Taking two steps inside the house, Meara threw her bag onto the floor. She kicked her sneakers off across the room. She slipped on flip flops and went back out to the Jeep. Shocked, Diana was still standing on the front porch.

  “What do you mean, it’s over?” asked Diana.

  Pushing past Diana, Meara got a cooler out of the Jeep. Meara dumped the cooler on the kitchen floor. She heard the Jeep’s door slam. Diana stood in her way, holding the other cooler.

  “Ems, talk to me,” Diana said. “What do you mean it’s over?”

  “I don’t feel like talking. Where’s Anne?” Meara snapped.

  “Anne’s in the house. We’re going out shopping for school supplies in a little while. Stop changing the subject. Now answer me, what the hell is going on? I’m not letting you off the hook. It’s obvious you’re upset. I’m done with letting you suffer in silence. Now talk!”

  “Duncan and I had a fight. It’s over. I’m quitting the library.”

  “You had a fight? You’re quitting? What the hell, Ems!”

  Meara told Diana what had happened last night and this morning. Diana looked angry, but she was also shaking her head.

  “Ems, I know you’re hurt, but did you listen to Duncan before you jumped to conclusions and decided it was over? Maybe he didn’t say it the right way. Maybe you didn’t let him get a word in edgewise.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway? He has doubts. If he gets old, he thinks I’ll leave him. If he believes that, he doesn’t love me. He’s using me, unintentionally or not.”