The silence lengthened as he waited and she worried he would play the poor puppy needing a pat on the head. Let good ol’ Annie burst the bubble with a hearty laugh, a good joke or some rousing sex. Not this time, John, she thought, clenching her fists. I’m not that strong. If he wanted to make things better, it had to come from him.
“Do you want to talk?”
He gave the cue, except his voice sounded like the rustling of the leaves. She was supposed to say yes now. Words and emotions seemed to rise up in her throat to form a knot she couldn’t push out. There was too much in there to say. Annie opened her mouth but nothing came out.
She felt adrift when she heard him turn and walk away. She lowered her head to her kneecap. Her shoulders shook as she silently wept in the blackness.
Suddenly she heard a pounding of heels on the floor. The back door flung open again, banging against the brick, then slamming shut behind him. John rounded her chair and stood before her. He looked distraught, his blond hair tousled, his cheeks unshaven, resolve carved into his long face. Their eyes finally met and she was blinded by the love she saw in that brilliant blue. Her insides ached just looking at him.
“I won’t do this anymore,” he shouted. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk. You were right, Annie. These silences are no good for us. We need to talk, and we need to talk now. No more silences between us. No more games.”
Annie felt overwhelmed. When she didn’t move or respond, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, hurting her, pulling her to her feet and holding her at arm’s length.
“Look at me, damn it.”
She dragged her eyes up. Through the blur of tears she was amazed to see tears in his eyes as well. The blue pierced through the water, stunning in their beauty.
“I’m dying here, Annie,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion. “Can’t you see? I’m so angry, so hurt, I don’t know whether to scream at you or just walk out that door and never turn back. I tried that, but I can’t do it. Damn you, I can’t. I love you.”
“John...”
He released her, sighed and rubbed his forehead hard with his clenched fist.
“You think I let you down, that I didn’t love you enough, that I wasn’t man enough to fight R.J. over you. Don’t you know how that’s killing me? I don’t give a damn about R. J. Bridges. It’s you I care about. How do you think I felt when I saw R.J.’s hand on your thigh? I wasn’t mad at him, I was mad at you. For letting it happen. For allowing it to happen. Aw, come on, Annie, you’re nobody’s fool. You don’t let things just happen to you. You’re always in control.”
“I...I’m not. John, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he shot back, angry. Then after a strangled pause he added, “And I let you be. I used to think that’s what made us such a great couple. You were left brain and I was right. Tough cop, nice cop. Abbott and Costello. But it doesn’t always work that way, does it?”
She shook her head and looked at her feet, confused.
“Hey, look,” he said, misinterpreting her silence. “It worked for a while. Maybe it’s time to break up the act. If that’s what you want, I’ll go along with it. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about my not fighting for something. My pulling some caveman act might work in movies but not in real life. At least not for me. That’s not who I am.” He paused and took a deep breath, furrowing his brow. “I’ve given this a lot of thought the past few hours. Tortuous thought.” He grit his teeth and said in a low voice laced with accusation, “You made me question my manhood.”
Annie’s breath froze in her chest. “I’m sorry, John. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have done so many things. Please forgive me.”
Hearing her words, his lips tightened and she thought he might break down. But he pulled himself together, putting his hands on his hips and speaking deliberately.
“The way I see it, a man isn’t someone who wields a club, Annie. A man sticks by his principles. A man defends his honor and that of his family. A man doesn’t just take care of his own, he cares for them. There’s a difference. I’ve gone through that scene in the garden a million times and what I saw was my wife playing a dangerous game, taking a chance with what I treasured most in the world—our marriage. What does that leave me to defend?
“I’m done with R.J.,” he said with a swipe of his hand. “That’s a separate issue, between him and me. But this—” he jabbed his finger at the ground “—is between you and me, Annie. Two adults. I shouldn’t have walked away from you that night. Or this afternoon. I’m sorry. I’m telling you I won’t walk away again. I want to make this marriage work. I’ll fight for it. And I’ll go to counseling, ’cause baby, we need help. I’m also telling you that if you don’t want it to work, then I’m not going to hang in here and fight for crumbs. That’s not my idea of being a man. I’m perfectly capable of leaving and getting by without you. But I won’t like it. I love you, Annie.”
She shrank within herself and felt very small, a gust of wind could blow her away.
“Hold me, John.”
Suddenly his arms were around her. She smelled John’s skin, his hair. She felt the scrape of his beard against her cheek, the calluses on his fingers as he wiped the tears from her face, the dry chap of his lips as he kissed her forehead, her mouth.
She kissed him as if her life depended on it, because it did. She needed him more than he needed her. She never knew she could just let go and he’d catch her. Now that she did, she was no longer afraid. Wasn’t that what marriage was all about?
He bent to lift her in his arms, cradling her, and carried her into the house, into their bedroom, onto their bed.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered, her lips against his neck. She tasted the saltiness of her tears against his skin. She needed him to make love to her now, to feel all of his skin on her, around her, in her.
Their bodies clung to each other tenaciously, neither wanting to lose touch with the other, not even for as long as it took to fumble with buttons and zippers and clasps, to slip fabric from their bodies. Their desire was fueled by need. Her only thought was to physically join with him. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. She’d never understood those words so fully. His hands roamed her body, and his lips devoured her hungrily as she raked his back and stroked his hair. When at long last she welcomed him in her body, she arched back, opened her lips and released the cry that was strangled in her throat. She cried out in joy and sorrow, in pleasure and in pain. What bliss to simply let go, to float somewhere in space and time without a worry or care, trusting she would open her eyes and be in his arms.
Because in his arms, her body was not diseased or old or dying. In John’s arms, her body was beautiful, ageless and alive. In John’s arms, she was safe.
* * *
When the sweet sighs subsided and she lay wrapped in the warm, safe cocoon of his arms she heard him chuckle softly and felt his arms tighten around her. He nuzzled against her ear. She smiled and nestled deeper.
“Maybe we made a baby tonight,” he whispered.
She heard the hope in his voice and physically felt the pain, jerking in reflex.
“Annie, what’s the matter?” He rose up on his elbow to peer down at her face, his blond brows knitted. “Annie?” he repeated more firmly.
She turned on their mattress and looked into his face. He wasn’t asking her to shield him or protect him. His arms were open; he was there to catch her. Taking his hands and holding them tight, she spoke in a voice that she hoped conveyed all she felt for him.
“John, there won’t be any babies.” She paused, took a deep breath, then leaped. “I have cancer.”
* * *
Several days later, Midge called the Book Club together for an emergency meeting at Vivaldi’s, their favorite trattoria in town. When they arrived, she’d already ordered a grilled-vegetables-and-goat-cheese ap
petizer and a bottle of Merlot, knowing they were on their lunch breaks and time was short. Midge had put her disappointment in the group not coming to her show behind her in wake of her concern for Doris. This was a crisis and demanded a calm, caring attitude and clarity.
“Doris left for her cottage in Michigan,” she said giving them a loaded glance. “And she went alone.”
After that bullet lodged, Eve looked at Annie, then asked, “Just like that? Without the kids?”
“That’s not like her,” Annie agreed. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Midge, rushing to her defense. “Doris can be a tough lady.”
“Sure, about school budgets and community taxes. But leave R.J.? He says, ‘Kick,’ and she says, ‘How high?’”
Midge leveled her with a glance. “What is it between you two lately?” Midge asked in a concerned voice.
Annie slipped her sunglasses back on and said evenly, “It’s something we’re working out.”
“It’s between them,” Eve interjected, signaling with her eyes to Midge that she should let it drop.
“It’s some kind of competition,” Gabriella said knowingly. “Doris has strong opinions and so do you, and you’re not afraid to blare them out.”
“Why should I be?”
“No reason. Except before you joined the group, some of us were.” She stopped, startled by the surprised looks on their faces. “Why are you all looking at me like that? Come on, admit it.”
“I never was,” Midge said with a huff, shaking her head.
“A little bit,” Gabriella nudged. “Doris was the queen bee of the group. And we let her be.”
“Well, maybe it’s lonely up there on the pedestal. Always having to be perfect.” Eve leaned back in the chair and offered Annie a wry smile.
“She probably just wants a little time for herself,” Gabriella said. “Nothing to be alarmed about.”
“I don’t know,” Midge said, tapping her fingertips together. “I don’t like that she’s just gone off. Especially since she’s depressed.”
“Depressed for months now, I’d say,” Gabriella added, nodding.
Eve sat up, her eyes wide. “Depressed? Who, Doris? I didn’t see it. I guess I was too caught up in my own problems to notice. What did you pick up on?”
Midge, Annie and Gabriella looked back at her with incredulity shining in their eyes.
“Didn’t you notice how much weight she’s gained?” asked Midge.
“And how tired she always is?” added Gabriella. “Every time I call lately she says she’s been napping. And she never dresses up anymore or puts on makeup, unless she absolutely has to. She used to be such a classy dresser.”
“Hel-lo,” Midge said, shaking her head. “It’s time for Vitamin P.”
“I thought she was just angry because of R.J,” Eve said slowly, taking it in. “Anger and depression are two different things.”
“Yes, but they’re a volatile combination,” Midge replied soberly.
“Dangerous,” added Annie.
“So, you all thought Doris was depressed?” Eve asked again. When they nodded, she pressed on, “Did anyone confront her with it?”
Midge frowned and looked away, irritated. “I’m not sure it’s always a good thing to confront friends.”
“But sometimes we need to be prodded,” replied Eve. “Remember how I was after Tom died? I didn’t have a clue how seriously depressed I was but Annie shook me up, made me see that I was wallowing.” She met Annie’s eyes again. This time, Annie did not look away. “She made me laugh, and that made me stronger. That and the honesty. That’s what friends are for. To be there when we need them most.”
Midge snorted and grabbed for her wineglass. Gabriella turned her head inquisitively but Midge didn’t reply.
Annie, who was being uncharacteristically silent, sat up and spoke in a low voice. “I confronted Doris.”
There was a gasp of surprise from Midge and Gabriella.
“What did you say to her?” asked Midge accusingly.
Annie looked at her hands. “I told her that R.J. chased women.”
“Oh, my God,” Gabriella muttered behind her palm. “You didn’t.”
Midge sat staring at Annie with a silent fury.
“You have to hear the whole story,” Eve said, then looked at Annie for the explanation. With a reluctant sigh, Annie skimmed over the whole tale, hitting only the salient points. She didn’t think anyone needed to know the details of the pool.
“How’d she take it? You don’t think she’ll do anything stupid?” Gabriella’s brown eyes were as wide as they were round.
“No, no...” Annie replied, but her brows furrowed. “She was pretty cool.”
“Damn, we would be reading The Awakening now,” Gabriella muttered. “Real smart, us picking a book where the woman goes off by herself and commits suicide in the ocean.” She paused and chewed her lip. “Does Doris swim?”
“Don’t be silly,” Annie snapped, removing the sunglasses. “I hardly think that one character’s walking into the ocean will influence Doris in a life-and-death decision. God, I like to think we have more backbone than that.”
“Books can really influence us,” Gabriella argued back. “Especially when we’re down.”
“She’s actually doing the right thing instinctively,” Midge said slowly. “To go off on her own for a while. But if she starts hitting some dark inner chords she won’t have anyone up there to support her.”
“Should we go up?” asked Eve. “To check on her?”
“I don’t think she’d welcome the intrusion,” Midge replied. “She’d resent it. Doris isn’t one to share her troubles or complain. Besides, I just received this letter telling me she went to the house and—isn’t this just like Doris—to inform me that she wouldn’t be able to make our next Book Club meeting. It sounds to me like she’s thinking clearly.”
“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Eve replied.
“I say we send her some flowers, books and tapes just to let her know we love her and miss her,” said Gabriella. “You know, to keep the door open. I don’t like her being alone up there or feeling cut off.”
“That’s a great idea,” Eve said. “And we should all send cards. Lots of cards, so she doesn’t lose touch with us. She won’t likely be talking to R.J., and her children are even less likely to call and check on her.”
“We’ll call her at the next Book Club meeting, too. We’ll let the phone ring and ring till she can’t stand it any longer and she’ll have to pick up. We’ll let her know that we’re only excusing her just this once. After all,” Midge said dryly, “isn’t Doris the one who’s always saying ‘No one misses a Book Club meeting’?”
* * *
A late July humidity settled over the small lakeside community. The day had been quiet and still under the haze of heat. Children who had to be dragged from the lake an hour earlier, now sat quietly inside and played board games or watched television. Sunset brought little relief from the heat. The silence only deepened with the purpling sky.
Doris stood at the window and looked out, thinking that it was an odd night, pensive, as though the stage were set for mischief and magic. The moon hung full and robust over the glistening lake like a golden goddess overlooking her kingdom.
Doris felt the gravitational pull of the moon as surely as if she were the tide. The crickets sang their trilling song, “Come out! Come out!” Doris felt her cells come alive within her as she stared, motionless, at the iridescent, cheery faces of the impatiens gleaming in the twilight against the lush foliage. She thought to herself that she could just stand here and watch as she’d always done—or heed the invitation and go out and dance.
Suddenly she felt eight years old again, felt
the exuberance of ripping off shoes and socks and tearing off for the water with an inner tube under her arm. Why not? She couldn’t wait to get outside, to shake off her worries and problems and jump into the lake.
Twilight made the long climb down the rickety wooden stairs from the cottage to the lake risky. Pausing on a step, holding fast to the railing, she looked out to see small yellow lights flicker around the lake, one last powerful motorboat dragging a skier for a final spin around and one old, single-engine motorboat with a lone fisherman and his rods heading out toward the setting sun. A quiet peace was lowering over the lake like the lid of a summer pail, closing up for the day. Time to go home, the mother in her called out.
But Doris didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to go into the glistening water. Sticking out her chin like a belligerent child, she traveled down the slope, step by step. Goldenrod clustered by the sugar maple, the canoe had overturned and was filled with brackish water and the sand along her beach needed refilling. But she didn’t care. Out there the water lapped against the metal dock, rocking it against the pilings, inviting her in.
She stood at the water’s edge with her toes sampling the water. The lake was as warm as a bath. She wrapped her arms around herself and inhaled gulps of fresh air, opening herself up and airing out her stale cavity from the stench of disappointment and disillusionment. Her mind emptied. She had no great thoughts or insights, no quotes from books or wise words counseled her. She was enveloped in the scented night air deepening around her, in the gentle sound of water against the shore, and by the feel of soft, muddy sand between her toes. Before her was a ribbon of moonlight stretched out across the black water like a shimmering, golden road, beckoning her to follow to a new adventure.
Doris stepped into the water, toward the light. The lake wrapped around her ankles. She moved farther out, her fingers unbuttoning her dress, then her bra, stepping out from her panties. The garments slipped from her body, drifted then sank beneath the black. She relished the feel of the warm water swirling between, around and in her, so free, as she reached one arm out, then another, stroking in its silky embrace. Just her and the water. Ahead the sky met the water seamlessly and the lights twinkled in the water. It was like swimming in diamonds. She smiled, felt her heart expand to take in the horizon and was filled with a yearning to mingle with the lights, to stay there forever. Nowhere to go, nothing to leave behind. Just to be. Floating in peaceful solitude with the stars.
The Book Club Page 31