‘I remember everything.’
Nowell crossed his arms. ‘You remember things in your own way. Maybe there was some sort of mix-up over Dad’s gift, but you remember it as some scheme to discredit you. I’m sure I had other things on my mind back then, like studying for exams and writing papers.’
‘I had other things on my mind, too,’ Lonnie said. ‘But I remember that when I first called, I suggested a shirt or a tie. He’d been traveling more for the business, do you remember that?’
‘Lonnie, just drop it.’
‘He bought a couple of suits and I figured he could use some ties, but you said Dad didn’t need clothes.’
‘How would I know what he wanted? I never told you that.’
‘I thought you didn’t remember.’
Nowell turned back towards his computer. ‘I have work to do,’ he said evenly.
Vivian and Dot had finished packing the box and had carried it between them into the spare room. Afterwards, they listened to the argument from the hallway. When Lonnie pulled the room divider back into place, they emerged.
‘Hey, Dot, what’s to eat around here?’ Lonnie’s face was flushed and glowing. He seemed jubilant, almost happy.
‘Can’t you wait for dinner?’ she asked. ‘We thought we’d order pizza tonight, maybe in an hour or so.’
Nowell came into the kitchen. His face was drawn and pale. ‘Might as well order it now. I’m not going to get any more work done.’
Vivian couldn’t remember the last time they’d all stood in the kitchen at the same time, especially the two men, whose tall, rugged bodies made it seem crowded and airless.
‘Well, ladies,’ Lonnie said. ‘The king has spoken.’
Nowell whirled around to face Lonnie. ‘What’s your problem?’
‘I know you remember that shirt, that’s all.’
‘I thought that conversation was over.’
Lonnie reached for the baseball cap hanging on the hook near the door and plopped it on his head. His eyes had a wild, watery look. From another hook, he took his car keys. ‘Maybe I’ll go for a drive while you think about it,’ he said. ‘After all this time, you still haven’t figured things out.’
‘What things? Things according to Lonnie? You’re right, I’ll never figure that out.’
‘It was different with us and you know it. You had your special place and you made sure I never came close.’
‘I don’t know what you’re…’
‘Goddammit, yes you do!’ Lonnie’s voice resonated through the yellow kitchen, echoing over the smooth surfaces and drowning out the ticking of the rooster clock.
‘All right, Lonnie,’ Dot said softly.
‘I can’t believe after all this time, you’re still living in your little fantasy world,’ he shouted. ‘Sure, he thought about you early on. Such an achiever, always bringing home good news, with your Little League championship and your science award.’
‘That was in the fourth grade!’ Nowell’s voice was incredulous.
‘But then he wasn’t thinking about anyone, was he? You, off at college, pretending that things were still the same. The great father-son relationship. You made it all up. Don’t you see that now? You made it up, and while you were away living your dream life, things at home were falling apart. Mom lost all that weight and you never noticed.’
Vivian and Dot lingered nervously at the edge of the kitchen, exchanging helpless glances.
‘At least he could depend on me not to screw up,’ Nowell said. ‘You have no idea what it was like, going to bat against him for you, for you! You can’t manage the simplest thing, can’t keep your life together for one month without one of us having to bail you out. And it was usually me, wasn’t it? Why was that, Lonnie? If you and Mom were so close – she still calls you her baby – if you’re so close, then why was it always me?’
‘Who asked you?’ Lonnie bellowed and before their astonished eyes, the keys flew out of his hand towards Nowell’s head. Barely missing, they crashed into the wall next to the window and slid into the sink.
By the time they looked back, Lonnie was gone. The screen door jerked back and forth as it slowly closed.
‘He’s lucky he missed that window,’ Nowell barked. He took his own keys from the counter and strode through the door. In a moment, they heard the truck’s engine, the tires slipping then taking hold on the dirt driveway.
They went to the door to watch Nowell leave. Vivian looked over and noticed that Dot was near crying. Teardrops crowded her eyes, threatening to spill. ‘Sit down,’ she told her.
Dot pulled a chair from underneath the table and sat down. When she reached up to wipe her eyes, her hands were shaky. ‘His temper is so sudden, you know? I never know when it’s coming, or what causes it.’
‘I think that’s how tempers work,’ Vivian sat down across from her and handed her a tissue.
Dot dabbed at the corners of her green eyes, which seemed paler, more yellowish than usual. ‘I used to think it was just another aspect of passion,’ she said. ‘You know, deep feelings. We’ve only had a few really horrible fights, but they always end with Lonnie losing his temper, throwing or breaking something.’
Vivian looked at her with concern.
‘Oh, he’s never touched me,’ she said. ‘And I don’t believe he ever would.’
‘But he threw those keys right at Nowell.’
She wiped her eyes again, leaving a smear of mascara underneath one eye. ‘I don’t think he meant to, you know? He loves Nowell and he loves me, and when he gets angry like that, it’s not the person he’s mad at, it’s the situation and his own feelings. All that rage at himself and there’s nowhere to direct it.’
‘I’m glad he missed,’ Vivian said.
Dot reached over and grabbed her wrist. ‘He feels awful about it, I know he does.’ Tears flowed freely now down her cheeks, ending at the corners of her mouth. ‘Please don’t be angry with him, Vivian.’
She covered Dot’s hand with her own.
‘I’m starting to think that it’s weakness more than passion, you know, his temper. I have to admit something to you and it might sound strange.’ She peered into Vivian’s face. ‘The first couple of times he lost his temper, I found it, I don’t know, exciting. Sure, I was angry and one time he broke our television remote and I was mad about that. But it was passion, you know? Here he was, big and crazed, crashing around our apartment and at the same time I was frightened, I was excited by it.’
‘But it’s so childish.’
She shrugged. ‘There’s no restraint and in a way, it’s refreshing. Haven’t you ever tried to make Nowell mad, maybe during a time when he hasn’t been paying enough attention? Haven’t you ever said something to pick a fight? Maybe you don’t know at the time that you’re doing it, but you make him angry so you can see his feelings.’
‘I don’t know,’ Vivian said.
‘There are things about Lonnie that I didn’t know when I married him. I’m not ashamed to admit it. There’s a whole other person, the hidden, small one that only comes out during moments like that. I keep discovering new things about him.’ After a moment, she asked: ‘Do you know what Lonnie’s real name is?’
‘Leonard.’
‘He hates it.’
‘I always wanted to be a Lisa, or Michelle,’ Vivian said. ‘One of those names that everybody has.’
Dot shook her head. ‘No, Lonnie really hates his name. He made me swear never to call him by it, even as a joke.’
‘That’s silly.’
‘We might think so, but this is what I’m telling you.’ Dot’s voice was emphatic. ‘For some reason, he’s very disturbed by it, you know? The mention of it makes him feel foolish, or small, or helpless. Knowing these things about another person makes them very special to you.’
‘Or very irritating,’ Vivian said, removing her hand from Dot’s. ‘Aren’t there more important things to worry about?’
‘Maybe. I don’t accept everything withou
t question. There are things I don’t like, things that make me uncomfortable.’
The kitchen had grown shady as the sun moved over the house, and Vivian had a hard time focusing her eyes. The air was still and cool.
Dot cleared her throat. ‘Lonnie told me once that he and his friends used to shoot at cats with their BB guns. He said that a couple of times, they actually killed one and dragged it around on their bicycles.’
‘Boys do that kind of stuff all the time,’ Vivian said, although the thought actually appalled her.
‘But I can’t help wondering how someone could do that. It’s one thing to hear stories about boys who are cruel to animals, but to imagine the details, you know? Tying the poor thing with string, making sure it’s tight. How could someone do that? How could someone walk away from something like that? Wouldn’t it make them hard, at least some part of them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Vivian said.
Dot’s cheeks were soaked with fresh tears. Vivian reached over and pulled Dot’s shoulder and she came quickly, resting her head on Vivian’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know what I’m talking about, or why I’m crying,’ she said. ‘I just hate when he gets like that.’
Vivian patted Dot’s back through the sheer, creamy fabric of her blouse. She could see the dark outline of her bra, the bulge at the middle of her back from the fastener. Turning her face toward Dot’s ear, she felt the soft tickle of blonde hair against her cheek and smelled the vanilla-clean scent of her shampoo. Vivian leaned in for some time, oblivious to the insistent ticking of the clock above the sink, its black hands pointing stiffly toward the gothic numbers and the rooster at its center arching its back and lifting one clenched claw, ready to scratch.
23
Vivian’s birthday arrived on an overcast, muggy day. Dot had made reservations at an Italian restaurant in town. There would be six of them for dinner: Nowell and Vivian, Lonnie and Dot, Katherine and Max. Vivian’s plans for a barbecue had never materialized, but they were all meeting at last.
The air was calm but ponderous with change as they left the house in Lonnie’s jeep. Nowell shared the front with Lonnie while Dot and Vivian sat diagonally on the small back seat, their knees pointed toward each other and almost touching.
Leaning over the steering wheel, Lonnie squinted up at the gray sky. ‘Feels like a storm,’ he said.
Nowell stared impassively through the window. For the most part, the brothers had avoided each other for several days. Each morning Nowell started early in the study and at night, Lonnie often stayed out late, shooting darts at the local tavern with some of the road crew workers. Some days, he went fishing with them too.
Dot, likewise, ignored Lonnie’s comment and stared at the passing scenery. The front of her hair was pulled back into a thick silver barrette, and the flowered sundress she wore was already wrinkling at her lap. She hadn’t said anything about Lonnie’s recent late-night habits, but Vivian sensed the tension between them. Twice she heard them arguing quietly behind the door of their bedroom.
‘Where did you say this place was, Vivian?’ Lonnie directed his question to her, having given up on the other two.
‘Down the street from the Post Office.’
‘I saw that nightgown you got,’ Dot said to Vivian. ‘It’s nice.’
‘What nightgown?’ Nowell twisted around in his seat. He seemed massive in the jeep, his knees pressing against the glove compartment and the top of his head just inches from the roof. Lonnie was equally cramped, having pushed up his seat a little to make more space for Vivian.
‘From your mother,’ Vivian told him. ‘She sent me a silk gown and a robe.’
‘Why didn’t you show me?’ he asked.
‘They just came this afternoon.’
‘She’s going to show you later, that’s why.’ Lonnie nudged Nowell with his elbow.
Nowell rolled his eyes and pushed Lonnie’s arm away. Taking this attention as a cue, Lonnie began telling him about the large carp he’d caught the day before with Jerry and his friends.
‘Do you feel any older?’ Dot asked Vivian.
‘No, not really.’
‘Twenty-eight, right?’
‘Yeah.’
She leaned closer. ‘I hope you don’t mind that I made these plans. If you and Nowell wanted to do something alone…’
‘No, I’m glad you did.’
‘Katherine recommended the place. Supposedly, it’s one of the best restaurants in town. Nowell said you like Italian.’
In the front seat, Lonnie described how Jerry had tripped over the ice chest while reeling in the fish.
‘I love Italian,’ Vivian said. ‘Besides, we probably wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t planned it, so thanks. It’s nice to dress up, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘We haven’t gone out all together since we’ve been here.’
They listened for a while to Lonnie, who grew more animated as his story progressed. After a while, Lonnie slowed the jeep on a quiet street at the outskirts of town. ‘Here we are, ladies,’ he announced.
The restaurant was like a little house. The wooden shutters were painted white to match the lattice encircling a small front area landscaped with rosebushes and small trees. Strung through the branches and hanging from the awnings, tiny white lights dimly shone in the gray twilight. On the roof, green neon spelled Silvana’s Ristorante in flowing, cursive letters.
‘What a cute place,’ Dot said. ‘I never noticed it before.’
‘Very nice,’ Nowell agreed.
Inside, the place smelled of garlic and bread. The hostess, a fiftyish olive-skinned woman with vivid brown eyes, directed them to a table near a window. The streetlights outside cast a glow over the table and over Max and Katherine, who sat quietly talking.
‘Hello there!’ Katherine rose from her seat. She hugged Vivian and Dot and greeted the men.
Vivian introduced Max to everyone and Katherine complimented Dot on her dress.
They seemed to have an entire section of the restaurant to themselves. Only two other tables were occupied and both were at the far side of the restaurant, near the bar. At one, a lone man watched a baseball game on the television perched above the cash register and at the other, an elderly couple sipped at steaming mugs.
They sat down and Katherine handed Vivian a flat, square package. ‘Happy birthday!’
‘Oh, thank you. Thanks, Max. Should I open it now?’ She looked over at Dot, who seemed to be in charge of the event.
‘No,’ Dot said. ‘Wait until dessert. We’ve got something for you too.’
‘They’ve got the game on over there,’ Lonnie noticed. Dot shot him a warning glance.
Katherine said, ‘The hostess is Josephina Riley. The restaurant was named after her mother, Silvana.’
‘Sounds like an Italian name,’ Vivian said.
‘Yep,’ Max said. ‘Cecil Clement brought her over after the war.’
‘She was a nice lady, real friendly,’ Katherine said. ‘Passed on now.’
A young man in a crisp white shirt brought them a loaf of bread, cut into thick slices. When he lifted the checkered cloth, sweet-smelling steam rose quickly.
‘Cecil’s parents disowned him for marrying Silvie,’ Max added.
‘Why?’ Dot asked.
‘His parents told him it was shameful to bring a wife home from a war, that he should have remembered why he was there,’ Max said. ‘But I think it was her being a foreigner too.’
‘They were well off, heavy into society affairs,’ Katherine said. ‘What little society this town had to offer. They were the major funders of the history museum in the community center building, which is also called, by the way, “the cultural center.”’
‘There’s a museum here?’ Vivian asked.
‘Shocking, isn’t it? It’s really a shrine to the Clement family. Original documents like land deeds, letters, and building plans are stored there, artifacts like clothing and tools. All of it tells the story of the great Willi
am Clement and the building of his town.’
Max poured another glass of red wine. ‘I’ve been there. I thought it was interesting.’
‘It’s not a bad collection for a small town,’ Katherine said. ‘Depending on how you like your history told.’
‘So Cecil’s parents cut him off, just like that?’ Lonnie asked.
‘The only thing they left him was this house, which they’d given as a graduation present. He and Silvie lived in the back area for a while and set up the restaurant here in the front. The back is now the kitchen. They’ve added on quite a bit over the years.’
‘Where does he live?’ Dot asked.
Katherine set her glass down. ‘Josephina’s got him in the nursing home.’
The young-faced waiter returned and took their orders. The food arrived quickly and it was excellent, as good as anything Vivian had in the city. She loved Italian food, the subtle spices and the richness of it, but because she tried to keep her weight down, she didn’t eat it often.
After they had finished their entrees and ordered a third bottle of wine, Dot pulled her purse onto her lap and retrieved a long, narrow box from its folds. She placed both presents in front of Vivian. Business had picked up in the restaurant; five tables were now full with recently arrived patrons. As Vivian scanned the room, her eyes fell on the hostess, Josephina. The plump, dark woman carried a brightly lit cake, followed by the waiter and another man. Vivian blushed as they reached the table and sang ‘Happy Birthday to You’ in uneven but enthusiastic voices.
Vivian didn’t bother to count the candles. She blew them out with two tries and began to pull them from the frosting.
The gift from Dot and Lonnie was a silver bracelet with star-shaped charms. She held it in front of the window, watching the stars reflect the streetlight in rapid flickers of white. ‘I love it,’ she said.
‘It fit me, so it should fit you,’ Dot said. She fastened the cool metal around Vivian’s wrist.
Vivian twisted her arm so that the little stars bounced and sparkled. ‘It’s perfect.’
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