The Summer Garden

by Paullina Simons

  “My God, Alexander,” she whispered, shaking. “It’s five in the morning.”

  He stumbled out of the truck, his keys falling on the pebbled ground, leaned into her, smelling aggressively of alcohol and smoke, but also of...

  The sick pit inside Tatiana opened up. The sick pit she had before she started thinking he was dead. He smelled of cheap perfume.

  Rocking from side to side, he staggered past her into the house, fell on the bed and was unconscious in all his clothes, in his shoes, everything. Tatiana undressed him and somehow got him under the covers. She searched through his clothes, she didn’t know for what, and then through his wallet. She went outside and searched his entire truck and his glove compartment—for condoms maybe? It was horrible. Nothing. But the smell of cheap perfume lingered, and now was in their bed.

  She lay down next to him, keeping her hand on him. It was nearing seven when she managed to fall asleep herself.

  Anthony woke her up at ten, whispering, Mom, Mom.

  Alexander was still unconscious.

  Tatiana got up, showered, made Anthony breakfast; she herself could not eat. The phone rang; it was Margaret, one of the last people Tatiana wanted to talk to. “How is he this morning?” Margaret asked cheerily. “Did you hear what they were up to?”

  “No.” Tatiana sat down. “Margaret, I really have to go—”

  “They rented out a two-bedroom suite at the Westward Ho downtown. I heard they had a blast,” she said with a giggle. “Had some kind of a wild girl show. You should ask Alexander about it, if and when he sobers up. Bill and Stevie are still pretty tanked.”

  Tatiana hung up. It was all she could do to not retch.

  She and Anthony went shopping. She didn’t even leave a note for Alexander.

  When they got home around four, Alexander came outside to meet them in the driveway, looking hung over but almost sober. “Hey,” he said, and luckily before she could answer, Anthony started talking to him and he got distracted.

  Tatiana silently unpacked the groceries while Alexander and Anthony carried them in. Alexander came up to her in the kitchen and again said, “Hey,” nudging her with his body.

  She said, “Hey,” and turned to the refrigerator.

  “Kiss me, Tania,” he said.

  She lifted her face without looking at him. He kissed her and then said, “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and glared at him.

  “Ah,” he said. “You’re upset.”

  “I’m beyond upset,” she said, slamming the refrigerator door.

  Anthony was pulling on his dad to show him the fishing-boat-gunship-destroyer he had been making in the shed.

  Tatiana went into the bedroom and got ready to go out. She put on the new Jonathan Logan violet silk dress she just bought, with gathered chiffon around the full swing skirt and velvet piping. Tonight she put on black mascara and black liner, rouge and even painted her lips red. The only time she put on that lipstick for Alexander was when she was a nurse attending to his ill humors. The memory of their Friday nights hurt her stomach. She put on earrings, a choker string of pearls and expensive perfume (to weaken the smell of the cheap one still lingering in their bedroom, on her beautiful quilt!), and threw on her new mauve high-heeled patent leather pumps. She was finishing brushing out her hair when Alexander walked into the bedroom. For a few moments he stood watching her at the dressing table. Glaring at him through the mirror, Tatiana said, “There is some beef stew from yesterday and plenty of bread and butter—”

  “I know where the food is.” He kicked the door closed behind him. She heard that sound only when he was carrying her into the bedroom for love. That sound hurt her stomach, too. “Where are you going?”

  “Tonight’s the hen party, remember?”

  Quietly Alexander said, “You told me you weren’t going.”

  “And you told me,” she said, “you’d be home at one.” She was doing all she could to keep her voice down.

  “I got drunk. I forgot to call. The bars close at two.”

  “What about the Westward Ho suite, what time does that close?”

  There was silence behind her, and a sigh. She couldn’t look into the mirror to see his face. “It’s that damn Steve,” Alexander said. “He couldn’t walk and asked me to help him upstairs.”

  “Well, isn’t that the blind leading the blind.”

  “I left soon after, but it took me forever to get home.”

  “It sure did. For a whole night you acted as if you didn’t have a home.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Alexander!” she said, spinning around to face him. “Enough from you.”

  He stepped in front of her. “Did you see me last night?”

  “No,” she snapped, “but you were quite a sight at five this morning. Can you get out of my way?”

  “It took me three hours to get home from downtown. I had to stop every mile and close my eyes. I must have fallen asleep by the side of the road. I couldn’t drive. I was trying to be safe. I thought you’d want that.”

  “Very good. Did you wear a French letter, too, just to be safe?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  “Don’t shout—Anthony,” she said through her teeth.

  “He’s in the shed.”

  “Five in the morning!” she yelled. “That’s not coming home late, that’s coming home early! Where is your decency? Can you even imagine what I was going through? I thought you had crashed the truck . . .” She wasn’t going to cry. No. “And when you finally disgraced this house with your presence, I smelled perfume all over you!”

  “Perfume?” He sounded dumbfounded. “Well, you undressed me,” he said loudly. “You took off my clothes. Why didn’t you smell me to see if I’d had a condom on me?”

  She inhaled sharply, stunned at his callousness. To think she could ever say to him, did you smell me to smell the rubber of a diaphragm I put in to have sex with another man? She started to shake. “Who says I didn’t?” she said, trying to move past him to the door.

  Alexander stood in her way. “This is ridiculous.”

  “I’m going to be late.”

  “You told me you weren’t going.”

  “You told me you weren’t going to see any women! You told me you were coming home at one!”

  “We were drinking! I was drunk.”

  “Love your excuses. So why didn’t you call me?”

  “I. Was. Drunk,” he repeated slowly as if speaking to a child.

  “I. Am. Leaving.” She tried to move past him again.

  He took her by the arms. “Babe, I’m sorry. I promise—”

  “You and your stupid promises!” she cried, pulling his hands off her. “You get drunk and forget all about me!”

  “I don’t forget all about you,” he said. “Stop shouting. My skull is splitting in four pieces.”

  “How thoughtless of me. Let’s not say another word. We’ll talk about this tomorrow when I’m less upset and perhaps less sober myself.” She made to go around him. He wouldn’t let her, locking the door behind him.

  “Alexander, stop it,” she said, trying to push him away, but he stood in front of her like a block of cement.

  “I went yesterday for my friend, not because I was angry,” he said quietly and slowly, but not kindly and slowly.

  “I’m also going for my friend,” she said, shoving him, “and not because I’m angry. Did you get a naked dance for your friend, too?”

  Alexander took her by the arms and sat her down on the bed. “You’re not going.”

  Tatiana jumped up. He seized her by the arms and set her back down on the bed.

  As soon as he let go of her, she jumped up again. He grabbed her by the arms and brought her to him very close. “Tania,” he said, in a low voice. “Stop it.”

  This time she couldn’t lift her arms.

  “Let go of me. What are you worried about? I’ll be very good. As good as you.”

  “Oh, for
fuck’s sake!” His fingers tightened around her. “You are not going, so calm down and then we can talk about this like adults.”

  “Let go of me,” she breathed out. “You can’t do this.”

  “I can’t?” he said. “So stop me, Tania.”

  Desperately trying not to squirm from the gripping discomfort of his hands, she struggled against him, losing her breath.

  “You’re just doing this to upset me,” said Alexander. “And it’s working. Consider me upset.” The more she struggled, the harder he held her. She bit down on her lip, trying not to groan in pain—not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Switching his grasp on her, Alexander held her against him with just one arm, while his free hand went under her silk dress and up her stockings to the horizontal line of her naked flesh. “You’re going to a poontang palace dressed like this, wearing a lacy open girdle, and black seamed stockings, going with your thighs all bare, are you?” he said, breathing out hard, touching her underwear. “Why even bother with the panties, Tania?”

  “Alexander! Let go of me.”

  “Stop fighting me and I’ll let go.” He was so enormous and upset, he was forgetting himself too, forgetting his strength, he was going to bruise her.

  “Let go, and I’ll stop fighting.”

  “Tania.” His fingers clenched, on her arm, on her thigh. And she cried out.

  There was no actual way she could leave the bedroom unless he let her leave. She could not get free of him unless he freed her. Perhaps at another time this might have made her calmer, but at the moment it made Tatiana only more upset. She started struggling against him again, her small frame heaving, wringing herself out of his vise-like arms. “You can’t win this,” he said, and he wasn’t even panting. “So stop right now.”

  To add to her humiliation, she was going to lose her footing in her high heels and fall backwards on the bed. “You stop right now,” she mouthed. Even the strength to yell was leaving her, the words came out almost soundless. His hands were hurting her, his belt buckle was hurting her, his words were hurting her, and she was already hurting from yesterday. “Tell me,” she croaked, “did you do this to your naked whore, too? Did she like it?”

  “Not as much as you,” Alexander retorted, and Tatiana burst into tears and then started to scream.

  And Anthony was knocking on the door, shouting on the other side. “Mommy! Mom! MOM!”

  Alexander pushed her onto the bed, and she scrambled up and ran into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. He kicked the door open, she backed away, stumbling against the bathtub, crying loudly stop, please stop, putting up her hands as he came for her. He grabbed her face, squeezing her mouth shut and through his teeth said, “Stop yelling. Your son is outside. You want to go? Go ahead. Go. I don’t give a fuck what you do.” Roughly releasing her, he left the bathroom, and she slammed the broken door that wouldn’t slam. The bedroom went quiet, only Tatiana was crying inside, and Anthony was crying outside, his plain whimper sounding through the walls. “Mama, please, please . . .”

  After a few minutes she heard Alexander unlocking and opening the bedroom door. “Everything’s okay, Ant,” he said. “Go outside for a minute. It’s okay. Let Mom and Dad—just go outside.”

  Anthony said no.

  “What did you just say? Go outside!”

  Cleaned up, red-eyed, moist in the face, Tatiana came out of the bathroom. “Leave him alone, he did nothing wrong.” Her hands were shaking as she walked past Alexander and touched Anthony’s face, kissing his head.

  “Are you all right, Mama?” he asked, himself crying.

  “I’m fine, honey,” she said, trying to make her voice not break. “Don’t worry about a thing. Your dad will take care of you this evening. Mommy is going out.”

  She left the house, got into her car and drove away.

  Alexander and Anthony didn’t speak during dinner, but as they were cleaning up, Alexander said, “Bud, sometimes grown-ups have arguments. It’s okay. Don’t you and Sergio have arguments?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Well, there’s more at stake between grown-ups.”

  “I never heard Mom yell like that before.” He started to cry again.

  “Shh. Sometimes even your mom gets upset.”

  “Not like that.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Never before.”

  “Not often, that’s true. But sometimes.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Out with her friends.”

  “Is she coming back?”

  “Of course!” Alexander took a deep breath, staring at his son. “Of course, Ant. Look, everything will be fine. Let’s just...hey, you want to go to a movie?”

  A movie at night alone with his always working father was an unprecedented treat for the boy. Anthony cheered up. They drove to Scottsdale’s only picture house to see The Greatest Show on Earth. Alexander sat with unseeing eyes and smoked. He didn’t hear a word of the movie. He had no idea what happened in it. Something about trapeze artists. All he was thinking about was Tatiana at the Golden Corral. Images of her there were making him deaf and blind. Tatiana may not have known the ways of men, but Alexander knew the ways of men very well.

  After the movie, he took Anthony to get some ice cream at the soda shop; they talked about baseball, football, basketball; they even talked a little about the woods in Poland. Anthony, having heard some of the story from Tatiana, wanted to hear more about it from his father. “Mommy told me you stormed Poland practically by yourself, without weapons, with just one tank, with prisoners as soldiers, and the men never fought before but you taught them all how, and you never stayed in the rear despite the protests from your lieutenant.”

  “Did you ever ask your mother how she knows this?”

  Anthony shrugged. “I find it’s better not to know how Mommy knows many of the things she knows.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Walking back to the truck from the soda shop, Anthony took Alexander’s hand.

  Tatiana was still not home.

  After putting Ant to bed, Alexander debated going to the Golden Corral but couldn’t leave his son alone in the house.

  This was ridiculous!

  His Tania was with a bunch of raving, joking girls, all of them drinking, dancing...army men coming up to his wife—

  He wasn’t going to think about it.

  —drunk men propositioning her, their hands on her, in a smoke-filled club—and what was she going to do to stop them, even if she wanted to?

  He wasn’t going to think about it!

  Alexander got into the truck and started the engine, and then turned it off, knowing he couldn’t leave. He went back inside, paced, smoked, drank, smoked, looked at the clock. It was eleven. He went to the work shed and made a new frame for the broken bathroom door.

  When he turned off his circular saw, he heard her car in the drive. After cleaning the wood shavings off himself as best he could, he slowly returned to the house.

  The door was open to the dimly lit bedroom. Tatiana was in front of her dresser mirror, taking off her earrings. Alexander stood in the doorway and then came in. He had been so tense he thought he would have to get control of himself before he could deal with her, but when he saw her, the fight went out of him. All he wanted was the peace of her, the comfort of her, the relief of her. He stepped in without closing the door and came up behind her. Silently he stood, looking at her blonde hair falling down her back, glancing through the mirror at her face, tilted down. Her hands went up to remove her pearls; she was having trouble with the clasp. He took a breath and moved her hair out of the way. “Here, let me.” Slowly he undid the clasp and lay the necklace on the dresser.

  “How is Ant?” she asked.

  “He’s fine.”

  “Did you feed him?”

  “Yes, I fed him. Took him to the movies, too.”

  “He must have enjoyed that. Spending time with you.”

  Tatiana did not s
mell remotely of alcohol or smoke, or other people. Not remotely. She smelled of the same musk oil perfume she had put on earlier. She was not crumpled, she was not touched, she didn’t have the breath of other people on her. Alexander was standing very close to her, right behind her; his stomach was pressing into her back, her strawberry-scented head was deep under his chin, and her hair was in his hands.

  “Can you help me with the dress?” she asked quietly. “I can’t get the hooks undone.”

  Alexander undid her dress, leaving his hands on her bare arms. Leaning down he kissed her shoulder. She moved away. “Don’t, all right.”

  “Tania...”

  “Just don’t, all right.”

  He turned her to him. She wouldn’t look up. The dress was loose, falling down. She let it drop to the floor and was left in a new one-piece purple lace corselet and black stockings. He wanted to mention the purple lace bought for a night out without him but didn’t think now was the time. She still wouldn’t look at him. He cupped her face, lifting it to him, bent, and kissed her reluctant lips. Her hands came up to push him away, and didn’t.

  “Where’ve you been?” he asked.

  “I went to the hospital. I kept Erin company on nightwatch.”

  He exhaled heavily out. Her face was still in his hands.

  Turning away from his mouth, from his eyes, she stood pressed against him. They were so quiet now, as if the fight had left them, the way they should’ve been when Anthony was outside their door. They stared mutely at each other. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “No, no, come on, shh,” Alexander said. He went to close and lock the door and took the phone off the hook. Fully undressing her and himself, he laid her down on the bed, and caressed her as slowly as his impatient roving hands would let him. “Shh... look how warm and soft you are . . . I’m sorry I hurt you earlier. I’ll make it better, I’ll make it up to you.” With a groan, he lightly fondled her breasts. “Don’t be upset with me, all right?”

  “I’m so upset with you. How could I not be?”