by Dee Ernst
I went back to the living room. “Storage must be a real challenge,” I said brightly.
Sam shrugged. “Well, we’ve got stuff in boxes under the bed. And I’m thinking about renting a space for my books and old paperwork. Right now, Jeff has a bunch of stuff in the back of Gabe’s shop. Alisa still has her skis and some of her old furniture in a pod up in Boston.”
“Oh? Jeff has been up here?”
Alisa made a face. “He and Sam got into a bit of a tiff. I don’t think Jeff liked our place very much.”
Sam sighed. He still had big puppy-dog eyes that made me want to hug him and protect him from the big, bad world. “Jeff called it a frat boy’s wet dream. I know this place is kind of a dump, but it’s only forty minutes from Alisa’s lab, and four subway stops from my campus. It’s fairly cheap, and the neighborhood is not too bad. We’ve got a month-to-month lease, so we’ll keep our eyes open for something bigger. And we can try for student housing next year.”
I took a deep breath. These were grown-up people here. Their combined IQ was probably greater than the combined IQs of both the offensive and defensive lines of any major professional football team. If this was where they wanted to live, I had better keep my mouth shut.
But…
There was no way in hell any kid of mine was going to live here.
“So, I have no idea how a doctorate program works. When do you both start doing whatever it is you’re supposed to do?” I asked, sitting back down on my little chair. I felt a hot flash coming on. I resisted the impulse to grab a manila folder off one of the desks to fan myself with. I just hoped they wouldn’t notice the beads of sweat at my temples.
Sam, leaning against the wall, was off on the topic. After five minutes, Alisa must have noticed that my eyes were no longer in focus, because she leaned forward and gently asked if I’d like a glass of wine. I smiled gratefully.
“That would be perfect,” I said.
She nodded in sympathy. “There’s a pretty little place just a few blocks from here where we could sit outside and see the sky. Are you up for a walk?”
Of course I was. My God, anything for a breath of fresh air. I wasn’t quite prepared to walk down the stairs, rather than wait for the elevator, but going down five flights isn’t really that bad, and there was a nice breeze in the stairwell from a few broken windows. Once we were outside, I felt fine. The sun was shining, the traffic was humming, and only four short blocks away was a tiny bistro where the wine was cold and we sat outside. Sam continued his monologue, something about starting to teach in the fall, and research all summer. I waited for him to take a breath before turning to Alisa.
“And how about you? When do you start teaching?”
She shrugged. “My arrangement is different. I’m not obligated to work in the classroom. I’ll be assisting one of the faculty members in his lab. This summer I’ll be free to just do my own work. Starting in October, I’ll be working three days a week for Dr. Manheesh, and taking classes on the other two days.”
“So, you’ll be spending the summer in some library somewhere?” I said.
She shook her head. “No, I can do most of it from the apartment. I’ll probably only have to come to campus once every couple of weeks.”
Work from the apartment? From that miserable shoe box? “Ah, well, let’s hope the air-conditioning doesn’t break down,” I joked.
Sam had finished his wine and was looking around for the waiter. “We’re still trying to figure out how to put one in,” he said.
“Put one what in?” I asked.
“An air conditioner.”
I stared at him, then at Alisa. “The apartment doesn’t even have air-conditioning?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s why it’s only seventeen hundred a month,” he said.
Alisa was looking down into her wineglass. I could have sworn I saw her lip tremble. “I need to pee again,” I said. “Alisa, can you come with me?”
She followed me inside and down the stairs to the restroom. As soon as I was certain Sam was way out of earshot, I stopped short and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Do you really want to spend the summer in that place?” I asked her.
Her blue eyes filled with tears. “No. It’s awful. I feel claustrophobic. Two nights in a row I woke up and couldn’t breathe. I’m afraid to go out by myself. But Sam found it, and he was so proud, and I don’t know, I think it’s really the best of what we can afford. I don’t want Sam to spend all his money; we’ll need it when we want a house and family. All I’ll be bringing in is my stipend, which will barely cover my lab fees and some groceries. I just don’t know what else we can do. We’ll qualify for student housing next year, and I know that will be so much better. For now, I’ll just tough it out.” She sniffed long and hard. “Please don’t tell Sam. He’d be so upset if he knew how I felt.”
“Listen, honey, first of all, you and Sam deserve better. Second of all, why doesn’t he already know how you feel? I was so happy you were the kind of person who didn’t hold back anything. I know, with Sam, you just want to keep him safe and happy, but this is your life. Don’t start hiding things now. It’s a hard habit to break. Tell him how unhappy you are.”
She wiped her face with her hands and shrugged. “What would be the point? It’s not like he can do anything about it.”
“Yes, he can. You guys can still live with me.”
She sniffed again. “What?”
I heard the words as they tumbled out of my mouth, and I knew I couldn’t stop them, but it felt okay. “You two can still live with me. At least for this year. My second floor has two bedrooms and a loft area, and is three times the size of what you’ve got now. It’s bright and sunny, and there’s a bathroom you can actually turn around in. It won’t take you that much longer to commute, and if you insist, you can keep this place for late nights or whatever. But you’ll have room to spread out. You’ll be able to have real furniture, more than two desks and a bunch of computers in your living room. I’ll be working and playing lots of golf, so you won’t see a lot of me. Really. I’m extending the invitation. What do you think?”
She swallowed. “I think it would save my life. But Sam…”
“Sam wanted to move in with me in the first place. If he had bothered to let me know last winter, this would never have been an issue. Let’s face it, plan B sucks so far. You with me?”
She nodded. Then she smiled. Then she frowned.
“We gave away most of our furniture so we could afford a smaller storage space in Boston.”
I chewed my lip, thinking. I was staring at the emblem on her polo shirt. “Where did you buy that shirt?”
She looked startled. “Hollister, probably. I’m always there.”
“Then don’t worry about furniture. I’ve got the perfect solution.”
I went into the restroom, because I’d learned to take advantage of every bathroom opportunity that came along; then we went back upstairs. Sam was sitting with more wine, blissfully unaware. We sat down. Alisa took his hand and smiled sweetly.
“Sam, I love you with all my heart. I hate where we’re living. I feel like I’m in prison. Your mother has just offered to let us move in with her for the year, and I think it could work. So I’m moving in with your mom. If you want to keep the apartment, fine. I’ll stop by between classes so we can have sex. But I think you should come there with me.”
Sam grinned. The product of eight thousand, six hundred, and fifty-three dollars and four years’ worth of orthodontia gleamed. “Thank God,” he said.
Smart boy. Really, really smart.
CHAPTER FOUR
My kids all liked one another. There were times, when they were younger, that I was sure they were going to kill one another, but by and large they grew into their siblings’ foibles and were friends. Watching the three of them together was like watching an old, well-rehearsed vaudeville act—they completed one another’s punch lines, passed off one-liners, and traded inside jokes like the seas
oned pros that they were. They were yin and yang and yin-yang. I was proud of them.
So I was a little surprised at Regan’s reaction when I told her that Sam and Alisa were moving in with me.
I had stopped by her apartment to ask if she’d like to go furniture shopping with me. She was all smiles until I mentioned Sam.
She stared. “He’s moving into your condo?” she asked. “With Alisa? You’re going to let them live there together? Are you crazy?”
“No, not at all. Have you seen that place they’re living in? It’s horrific. I couldn’t not ask them. They’ll have to drive to the train, but the commute is a small price to pay for fresh air and a bathroom where they can turn around.”
“This is your adult son, Mom,” she said slowly. “Wasn’t the whole point of selling the house a statement about going forward with your life without your kids?”
I looked at her. “Regan, there is no way I will ever go on with my life without my kids. It’s impossible. When you’re a mother, you’ll understand. Yes, I wanted to move in a different direction, but it was never about leaving you guys behind. Is that what you really thought?”
“Why else would you sell the house?”
“Because I was tired of living in five thousand square feet all by myself, that’s why. I didn’t want to worry about taking care of it, cleaning it, and hearing my footsteps echo through vast, empty rooms. And I wanted to buy floral chintz sofas and lots of foofy pillows.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that why you let Jeff decorate for you? Honestly, Mom, for a woman who always knows what she wants out of life, sometimes you amaze me with your willingness to let your kids roll over you.”
I settled back into her couch. “Really? Wait until you have kids.” I tilted my head at her. “Did my selling the house bother you? You never said anything. I never had the idea that you were emotionally attached. It’s not like you didn’t take every single thing that was yours with you when you left.”
She shrugged. “It’s just weird to think that Sam is going to be living with you again. He was always such a baby about leaving home in the first place, and now he’s managed to find a way to get back.”
I looked at her quizzically. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
She shrugged, then laughed. “Maybe. Pretty stupid, right? I mean, Phil and I will probably buy our own place by next year. We’ve kind of been looking, but this wedding stuff is just so ridiculous. We found a place for the wedding, by the way. It’s called Clareview House. It’s a beautiful old mansion, but we need to bring in our own catering. I was going to ask you about that.”
I beamed. My daughter was very independent. Being the middle kid and only girl, with an absent father and a strong mother, had left a mark. That she was asking me for help was a real breakthrough for her.
“I know a few people who would do a great job,” I said, speaking slowly. Didn’t want to scare her away. “I’ll make a few phone calls and let you know some names. How’s the guest list?”
She shot me a look. “Don’t push it, Mom.”
I held up my hands, palms out, in defeat. “No problem, honey. Now, will you help me find a soft, squishy sofa in a shiny chintz print?”
She grinned. “Sure. I’ve got clinic tomorrow and Thursday. How about Friday morning?”
Perfect. The good thing about being between jobs was a completely open schedule.
I went home and walked Boone past the health club again. Someday soon, I swore to myself, I’d actually go in. I was starting to recognize a few people in the development. There was the very attractive couple who jogged together in color-coordinated outfits, identical headphones, and very big watches. A sweet older lady—I think she said her name was Marie—lived across the cul-de-sac and petted Boone whenever she saw us. There was also a very attractive gentleman, maybe in his sixties, who drove a Lexus and had no visible roommate or partner. He did not smile or wave, but when I saw him unload golf clubs, I gave trying golf at least seven minutes of serious thought.
When I sat down at my computer, I found a brief e-mail from the dean of business at Centenary College, the woman who was supposed to be my new boss, telling me that, due to funding cuts and slipping enrollment, I would not be getting the contract we discussed. In fact, I would not be getting anything.
I stared at the screen. I had quit a very high-paying job so that I could relax and take it easy in the world of academia. Sure, they weren’t going to be paying me a lot of money, but then, I had agreed to teach only two classes. It was going to be perfect. I would make just enough to cover the taxes and fees on the condo, as well as basic living expenses, and in return, I would give about twenty hours of my time and expertise to a hundred or so students.
I was not hurting for money. My biggest expense had always been the house. Now that I was living mortgage-free, my nest egg could last a very long time. But I was counting on a job. I was counting on that job.
I could not go back to my old firm. I knew for a fact that they were glad I had left, because business had slowed considerably, even in the tax department. I suppose I could look for another job as a lawyer—after all, I was qualified and experienced. But that would not work in my favor, not in this economy. I did not want to run through my savings, or have to go into the 401(k).
I called Cheryl. “I got fired,” I told her.
“From what?”
“My job. At the college.”
“But you hadn’t started working there yet. How could they fire you?”
I sighed. “You’re right. I didn’t get fired. I just didn’t get hired.”
“Kate, that sucks. I’ll be right over. I have just the thing to make everything all better.”
She arrived forty minutes later, a bottle of wine in hand.
“Happy new unemployment. Where’s a corkscrew?”
I handed it to her; she poured wine into two glasses, then wandered through the condo. She came back into the kitchen frowning.
“Kate, this furniture is still giving me a very funny vibe. Is this really the kind of place you want to live in?”
I shrugged. “It isn’t. Regan and I are getting new furniture and moving all of this upstairs for Sam and Alisa.” I took a long drink of wine.
“Why would Sam and Alisa need furniture upstairs?” She was searching in her purse for something.
“Because when I saw the hellish shoe box they were living in, I invited them to move in with me.”
She pulled a baggie out of her purse, looking triumphant for a moment before turning to me with a frown. “Your son and his girlfriend are going to be living with you?”
“Yes. Is that pot?”
“Why would you want that, Kate? You’ve been living alone for a while now. Won’t that be a huge disruption? And yes, I thought we’d smoke a joint in honor of your losing your nonexistent job.”
She emptied the contents of the bag on my granite countertop. She gazed down at the twisted buds and sighed.
“This has to be cleaned. I need an album cover,” she said.
“Cheryl, where the hell did you get that? You haven’t smoked pot in years.”
“I know, but wine adds on pounds, and I’m tired of eating salad twice a day. I got it from the nice young man who works at the gas station on the corner of my street. I didn’t know where else to go—all my contacts went to prison or died years ago—so I figured a high school boy would be the best chance at a source, and he was happy to get it for me. He graduates next week. I may have to find another supplier.”
“Are you crazy? You just asked a strange high school kid?”
She gave me another one of her “Are you kidding?” looks. “Of course not. I get my gas there all the time. I’ve known Kyle for a couple of months now.” She had pulled a packet of rolling papers out of her purse as well. “Now, again—album cover?”
“Cheryl. I don’t have any albums anymore. I have CDs and an iPod. Nobody has albums anymore.”
Her face fell. “Then how the hell do peop
le clean their pot?”
“I have no idea. You’re serious? You want to roll a joint?”
She pushed everything across the counter. “I just had new tips put on; I can’t do a thing with these damn nails. You roll one.”
“Cheryl, I’m a lawyer.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not anymore. Listen, you and I used to smoke every afternoon, all through high school, sitting up in that old tree house. Remember? We could use a little bit of the naughty. Go ahead and roll. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”
Well, she was right about that. I found my wok and used it to separate the seeds, and rolled three very respectable-looking joints. The only lighter I had in the house was one of those long, skinny things I used to light the grill, so we lit a candle and used that. Cheryl took a long, deep drag, then spewed out a lungful of smoke and coughed for a whole minute. I stared at her until she stopped. Her eyes were watering; her face was red. And she was grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, Kate, why did we stop doing this?”
“Because it’s illegal. I’m an officer of the court, Cheryl, and this is against the law.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be.” She took another hit, a tiny puff, and grinned again. “I can’t figure out why this wasn’t made legal years ago. You can’t tell me all those senators and congressmen have never smoked. So many of them are our age and older, and they never inhaled? That’s a crock. And they could tax it, make a bundle, and lower everybody else’s taxes. The whole recession would be over! I need to write to the President about this.”
I took the joint from her and tried a small, tentative hit. Just enough to feel it in the back of my throat. I exhaled gently.
I closed my eyes and took another hit.
Wow.
“Cheryl, this is the best idea you’ve had in a long time. I’ll help you with that letter.”
We carried the wine bottle, our glasses, and the joint out to the deck and sat in quiet contentment for a few more minutes. I didn’t have an ashtray, but I used the saucer from one of my small clay pots to stub out the roach. The birds were singing, the sun was filtering through the trees, and I felt totally at one with the glory of Mother Nature.