by Fox, Susan
We chatted companionably as we walked the six mile loop. Janice exchanged occasional greetings with students and other teachers, and I did the same with vet clinic clients. As the morning wore on, the seawall got even more crowded, particularly as we hit the last stretch past the Rowing Club. Many of the oncoming people had just started their jaunt around the seawall, including nervous roller-bladers and cyclists who’d rented their equipment at the end of Denman Street.
By the time we were back on Denman ourselves, the BC Hydro noon whistle was blowing its Oh Ca-na-da four notes. Walking up the street, we passed restaurants that smelled enticingly of brunch food. “I’m starving,” Janice said.
“Let’s find a place where we can eat outside, so Pogo can sleep under our table.”
We chose Rain City Grill, which had a patio just off Denman where there was less sidewalk traffic. Exertion deserved a reward, so we both ordered brioche French toast.
Janice stretched contentedly in the sun like a cat. “I could stay here all afternoon but I have papers to mark. What are you up to?”
“Laundry and housework, making cookies for me and Mr. Schultz, catching up on e-mail, a trip to the gym, then Richard and I are getting together for dinner.”
“The gym? How can you do it, after that walk?”
“I’ll do some yoga and light weights, skip the aerobics.”
“You’re too virtuous. I envy you the dinner out, though.” She squinted her eyes against the sun. “Hey, Izzie, you think Richard’s hot, right?”
I tried not to wince as I remembered my before-bed musings last night. “Of course I do,” I said, loyalty to Richard outweighing my policy of not lying to my friend.
After Pogo and I dropped Jan at her place, my thoughts returned to last night. But not, this time, to my physical reaction to Gabriel. This time I thought about his speech, and the guilt feelings he’d engendered in me. However bad he might be as a father, he was a truly good citizen. He, like my parents, helped to make the world a better place.
Likely he wasn’t blowing off an entire Sunday in self-indulgent activities.
“Yoga,” I told Pogo as we went into our building. “I need serenity.” Before my tension headache came back.
* * *
Richard’s and my dinner plan was to meet at Ciao Bella, an unpretentious Italian restaurant with a friendly atmosphere and reasonable prices. We tended to eat out, at inexpensive ethnic places, rather than at one of our apartments. With him liking meat and me a vegetarian, cooking at home was a hassle. Of course once we were married, we’d figure out the necessary compromises.
He was coming from the office, so when we met on the street outside the restaurant, it was no surprise to see him in tailored pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Even on Sunday, he wouldn’t wear jeans to work. Partners had a habit of showing up.
Grace referred to Richard’s style disparagingly as being straight out of Brooks Brothers. I had to admit that, while attractive, it was awfully conservative. I liked him best in jeans, with a T-shirt hanging out rather than neatly tucked in.
Hot? As we hugged and exchanged a quick kiss, I thought again about the meaning of that word. Richard was a good-looking man. If he had longer hair and it was tousled, and he was wearing jeans and nothing else… He had a good torso, lean but not skinny, with a scattering of dark curls. Yeah, if you put Richard, looking like that, on the cover of a romance novel, women would definitely think he was hot.
“What’s on your mind, Iz? You have a glazed look.”
I rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “You, half-naked.”
He gave a surprised laugh. “Sounds like a good plan for later.”
“A good start, anyhow. I have every intention of getting you completely naked.”
“I sure hope so.”
We looped our arms around each other and headed inside, where the hostess greeted us and gave us our usual window table.
“You’re done for the day?” I asked Richard.
“I am.”
“Great. It’s a while since we’ve had a whole evening together. Alone, I mean.”
He shoved up his glasses, as he tended to do when he was on edge. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I understand you need to put in a lot of hours to impress the partners.” We’d agreed he would concentrate on his career in the beginning. By the time we wanted to have children, he’d be senior enough to work more reasonable hours.
“Besides,” I added, “I have lots to keep me busy.” I was happy to spend more time at the clinic, hang out with family or friends, or simply enjoy my own company and that of my menagerie. Yes, I missed Richard, but after growing up in houses and apartments full of people—co-op roommates or my parents’ charity cases—I valued time alone.
I’d intended my words to reassure, but Richard, who didn’t normally fidget except for that glasses-shoving thing, began tapping his knife against the red-and-white checked tablecloth.
Ana, our usual waitress, came to say buona sera and ask if we’d like wine. We decided to split a half liter of house red. After she’d filled our glasses she took our orders—mine for a small margarita pizza with bocconcini cheese, fresh tomatoes, and basil, and Richard’s for rigatoni with a sauce of tomatoes and Italian sausage. When he ate meat, I liked it better when the meat was disguised by a sauce. Gazing across the table at a slab of steak was a sure way of destroying my appetite.
When Ana had gone, Richard began tapping his knife again.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah, kind of.”
When he didn’t go on, I prompted, “Want to talk about it?”
“Well…” He put the knife down and took a gulp of wine.
He was making me nervous, and I felt particularly glad I’d ordered pizza. To me, it was comfort food. If I had a dime for every veggie pizza I’d eaten with my parents and their friends, I’d never have needed those student loans. Nothing could go seriously wrong when you were eating pizza.
“It’s just something I’m thinking of,” Richard said, picking up his knife. “But I’d like your opinion. I mean, it’s only fair to discuss it because it would affect you too.” Tap, tap went the knife. “Besides, you’re the only person who really knows me, and we have similar backgrounds, and you can tell me if I’m being crazy.” Tap, tap.
I couldn’t imagine ever thinking Richard was crazy, but nor did he usually sound uncertain. “Tell me about it,” I urged, reaching across the table to remove the knife from his grip.
He glanced down, obviously unaware of what he’d been doing. “What would you think of me becoming a sort of big brother?”
“A big brother?”
“There’s this boy, he’s twelve, who lives in my neighborhood. You know that subsidized housing development? He and his mother live there. I don’t know much about her, never see her around. Guess she’s working, or maybe… Well, I shouldn’t speculate.”
Ana delivered our meals and said, “Buon appetito.”
I freed a wedge of pizza and nibbled at the pointy end, waiting to hear the rest of the story.
“Anyhow,” Richard said, “I’ve spoken to Eric a few times. He’s often hanging around with his skateboard when I get home from work. Nine, ten o’clock, long after he should be home. He’s a good kid, we kind of connect for some reason. But I’ve smelled marijuana smoke on him, and seen him hovering around one of those gangs of doped-out punks. I’d hate to see him end up with them.”
“That’s for sure. You figure his mother’s too busy or doesn’t care?”
“Seems that way. And I don’t think there’s a male influence in his life apart from those druggies. Maybe I could help him.”
I knew Richard was a good man, but I’d never seen him want to reach out this way. It warmed my heart. I touched his hand. “I’m sure you could, sweetheart.”
As I thought about it, the implications began to sink in. For Richard, and for me. “It would be a big commitment. You can’t get involved i
n this boy’s life and back out later.”
“He says his dad ran out on them. I wouldn’t get involved and then abandon him. I know how much it hurts.”
No, after his experience with his own father, the last thing Richard would do was run out on the boy.
“I know it would be a serious commitment,” he said. “And I feel bad because it would affect you, too. It would mean even less time together, and that’s not fair on you. You’re my first priority—you’ll always be, Iz, and our kids when we have them—but I’d be taking another person into my life.”
I believed him when he talked about priorities. He’d bend over backwards not to repeat his father’s mistakes and neglect his family. But there were only so many hours in a week, and time with Eric would mean less time with me. Already, our jobs kept us apart many evenings and weekends.
Still, though I had my faults, I tried not to let selfishness be one of them. And I did feel sorry for the boy. If Richard could make a difference in Eric’s life and was motivated to do it, then he should. Threading my fingers through his, I said, “Don’t worry about me. It’ll work out. I don’t want to horn in on all the male bonding, but sometime down the road I’d like to meet Eric and maybe we could so some things together.”
He beamed at me. “That would be great. He could probably use a healthy female influence too.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge his mother. You don’t know her circumstances.”
He shrugged, but I could see he wasn’t predisposed to be generous with a woman who neglected her child.
“I definitely don’t want to discourage you, but Richard, this seems kind of sudden. Why now? You’re busy with work and we’ve talked about getting married later this year. You’ve already got a lot on your plate.”
He freed his hand, took a drink of wine, then began twisting the stem of his glass between his fingers. To the right, to the left, to the right again. He was watching the glass, not looking at me. “It’s been in the back of my mind for a while. I was going to talk to you but wasn’t sure what I felt. And then…” He lifted his head, shoved up his glasses and scowled. “Damn it, Gabe got to me with that speech last night.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing exactly what he meant. “You shouldn’t let him guilt you into anything,” I said firmly, as much to myself as to Richard.
“It’s not that. I do believe people should make a contribution to society. Gabe just reminded me. And here’s this situation I’ve been noticing, where maybe I can make a difference if I get off my butt. It’s only a small thing, but—”
“No,” I broke in. “It’s not small. I think you should do it. Your dad would be proud.”
He snorted. “No way. He wouldn’t be proud of me unless—” He broke off to reflect. “Unless I opened my own storefront legal clinic, I suppose. And there’s no way I’m doing that.”
“Nor should you. Do the work you love, and make your contribution to society in other ways. If Gabriel’s not proud of you, he’s a fool.”
“Uh, thanks.” Richard flushed, then picked up his fork and determinedly attacked his pasta.
After a minute I went back to my pizza, but my appetite had deserted me. Not because of Richard and Eric, but because Gabriel was back on my mind. I forced myself to take a bite, and smiled across the table. “How long before I can start stripping your clothes off?”
“Think you can wait until we get back to your apartment?”
“I’ll try.”
We joked back and forth, but I was only going through the motions, trying to psych myself into the right mood. I sensed the same was true of Richard.
Later, when we were alone at my apartment and I did get him naked, we managed to shove everything else away and concentrate fully on each other and our mutual pleasure. Afterward, when we curled up together, I sighed contentedly. “I’m glad you can stay the night, Richard.”
He kissed my temple. “Me too. You know, I was thinking…”
“Mmm?”
“I know we decided we wouldn’t set a wedding date until we’ve been engaged for at least six months, but I wonder if we should think about moving in together?”
I jerked upright. “Moving in?”
“We’d see each other more. We both work a lot of nights, you see your parents and friends, I have Mom and Frank, now maybe Eric. At least we’d always see each other in bed at night.”
The idea made sense, so why did I feel panicky? “We talked about this before,” I said slowly, “and agreed not to live together until we got married and bought our house.” Our house. I’d been dreaming of it so long that I couldn’t quite imagine having Richard move into my cozy little queendom.
“I wanted to do things the old-fashioned way,” he said.
I had to chuckle. I reached under the covers to tickle his naked body. “Is this the old-fashioned way?”
He wriggled to evade my hand. “No guy’s that old-fashioned.”
“What’s changed, Richard?”
“If I start seeing Eric, it’s going to be even harder to arrange dinners and weekend time.”
“So if we lived together, we’d both go our own ways and lead our busy lives, but meet in bed?”
“It doesn’t sound so romantic when you put it that way.”
I shook my head. “But we’re not noted for being romantic, are we? We’re the practical ones.” I heard the touch of bitterness in my voice and it surprised me. Until last night, I’d been happy to be sensible and organized. Now I remembered the silent auction and my fantasy about a weekend away, with ice wine and chocolate truffles. Yes, we valued practicality, but did that mean we had to give up all spontaneity, excitement, fun? “Richard, why don’t we take a weekend away? Maybe go over to Victoria.”
“That’s a great idea, Iz.”
I smiled with delight. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? “How about this coming weekend?” For once, I had both Saturday and Sunday off.
He sighed. “There’s an important merger in the works. I’ll probably have to be at the office. How about the weekend after?”
“I have to work.”
“Damn.” He shook his head. “The story of our lives.”
“So maybe you’re right and we should move in together.”
“It’d be nice to hold you every night, to talk like this rather than over the phone.”
“It would.” Besides, if Richard was beside me in bed, I wasn’t likely to torment myself over his father. “Okay, let’s think seriously about it.”
“Maybe I can persuade you.” He reached for me, pulling me against his body so I could feel that he was aroused again. “I’m a lawyer. I can be very persuasive.”
* * *
“Isadora? Are you there? I tried your cell.” My mother’s voice spoke out of the answering machine on my kitchen counter a couple of nights later.
Owl, perched on one of the wooden dinette chairs, said, “Hey, cutie, why don’t you come over and see me some time?”
I didn’t answer the phone, just plugged my run-down cell into its charger and went back to fixing quinoa salad. Much as I loved Grace, I wasn’t in the mood for talking. I just wanted a peaceful evening alone with my menagerie. This queendom might not be mine for too much longer.
Richard and I were probably going to move in together. We’d started with him favoring his apartment because it was bigger, and me preferring mine because it was so close to the clinic and I loved it. In the end, we agreed to go apartment-hunting together, whenever we could find time, and choose a place that worked for both of us. As was our pattern, we’d chosen practicality over spontaneity. I tried to persuade myself that augured well for our future. Our decisions would always be well thought out.
I hadn’t told my parents yet. Not that they’d have any moral objection to living together. But they did have reservations about Richard, and I didn’t have the energy to defend our decision.
In fact, I was fresh out of energy. My brain was exhausted from spinning hamster-like on a Gab
riel DeLuca loop that was going nowhere. Why couldn’t I get the man out of my mind?
“Give me a call as soon as you come in,” Grace continued. “They’ve arrested Jimmy Lee and he’s in jail and—”
I dropped the knife and grabbed the phone. “What? What’s he gone and done now?”
“So you are there. They’ve charged him with arson.”
“Arson!” My heart leaped into my throat and lodged there. “Jimmy Lee wouldn’t.”
“Of course not. It’s all a mistake.”
How many times had I heard those words? Sometimes they had proved true and sometimes not. Jimmy Lee took the active in activist seriously, but I honestly didn’t think he’d commit arson. “What’s he accused of setting fire to?”
“The Cosmystiques lab out in PoCo. But he had nothing to do with it.”
The cosmetics company in Port Coquitlam used animals in their testing and deserved to be shut down. But not burned down. “Why did the police arrest him if he had nothing to do with it?”
“We were there last week, picketing, and maybe he said some things he shouldn’t have.”
Of course he’d mouthed off. He was Jimmy Lee Wheeler. I asked the usual question. “Have you got a lawyer?”
She gave the expected answer. “We can’t afford one. It’ll have to be duty counsel.”
I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Duty counsel might be okay if it was just another disturbing the peace, but arson’s serious. He’s never been accused of arson before. And they usually release him, they don’t hold him overnight. You need a good lawyer.”
Yet my parents didn’t have the money to hire one. My parents never had any money. Although they had both passed sixty, they hadn’t saved a nickel. Grace, a teacher by training, was morally opposed to the public and private school systems, and tutored special needs kids, often for free. Jimmy Lee had a real job as a social worker with a community outreach organization, but any spare cash went to my parents’ causes.
For years, I’d realized I would be looking after them when they were old. That was part of the reason I was so determined to achieve financial security.