Chapter 28
Chapter 28
The Doctor had warned Rachel that, in addition to having to endure the twin joys of bleeding and cramping as her body returned to its normal state, she might be a little moody. A pregnant body becoming suddenly unpregnant equals hormones run amok.“Expect something along the lines of a very bad period.”
As soon as she’d said the words I’d known what was really coming. Everyday Rachel was moody. PMS Rachel was crabby. Hormonally Imbalanced Rachel was like a demon let loose from hell. And poor Brian was her favorite punching bag.
She screamed obscenities at him one minute:
“Do you think you could get off your lazy goddamn ass and do something about those drafty fucking windows upstairs?”
And sobbed her apologies to him the next:
“I’m sorry, Brian. I’m sorry I’m such a stupid bitch...”
“You’re not stupid, Rach.”
Brian wasn’t her only target. She let Zeke have it, too. She was pissed about her new schedule and told him so, frequently and loudly. He didn’t back down and, fortunately, he didn’t tell her it had been my idea. This earned him my undying gratitude, because she was already irritated enough with me.
“I’m fucking sick of you checking on me every goddamn day! Just stay downstairs where you belong and leave me the fuck alone!”
I tried to be patient with her, and mostly succeeded. It was obvious the girl was not well. Because on top of everything else she came down with a stomach flu a few days after her appointment. Chills, vomiting, diarrhea; the whole works. And, of course, more wonderful mood swings. A few days after that I got my period--bringing with it the worst case of PMS I’d ever had in my life--and Brian made the decision to spend his evenings with Jeff until the worst was over at home.
Not that he had much room to talk. The stress of dealing with Hurricane Rachel, combined with a lack of sex, made him almost as cranky as me. Because despite my best efforts, he still couldn’t perform while his sister was home and awake. Between her flu, her new schedule and her apparent insomnia, that left us with Friday and Saturday evenings while she was at work. It embarrassed him, so he wouldn’t talk about it, and that meant that there was nothing to be done. Except to count the hours until the weekend and hope that he’d get over it. Soon.
After a few weeks Rachel’s hormones seemed to settle down. She was still moody, but she kept mostly to herself instead of taking it out on Brian and me, so that, at least, was something. And on the Saturday before Christmas I was brave enough to venture upstairs to invite her to the upcoming Bellow’s Family Christmas Gathering. It would be our first one since the Wicked Witch had flown away--France, as it turned out--and for once I was looking forward to hosting it.
Rachel let me in. It was spooky being in my old apartment, seeing all of my stuff still there. Rachel’s stuff was all packed away in Jeff’s garage. It would stay there until she moved out again or until I got around to bringing mine downstairs to Brian’s apartment. The place wasn’t a mess like I’d expected. My log cabin quilt was lying in a heap on the couch, the television tuned to Tom & Jerry. Except for that and some dust, the apartment looked oddly unlived in.
I turned my attention back to Rachel. Her hair was matted down on one side, the cording from my couch pillow imprinted onto her cheek. She grabbed hold of a kitchen chair to steady herself and mumbled, “What time is it?”
“Eleven-thirty.”
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a few seconds, shook her head then finally managed to focus on me. “I musta fell asleep watching TV.”
“Maybe if you went to bed at night you wouldn’t sleep all morning.”
And then maybe I could get laid.
“How am I supposed to sleep at night? My schedule’s all fucked up. Days one day, nights the next. Fuckin’ Zeke--”
“Zeke loves you, and that’s the only reason you still have a job. I would’ve fired your ass if you’d gone off on me the way you did to him.”
“Yeah, yeah…whatever. I already got that lecture from Brian. I don’t need it from you.”
Something that was almost guilt colored her face as she said it, so I dropped the subject and plunged straight ahead with the invitation. She nodded absently and said she’d be there, as long as she didn’t have to dress up for the occasion.
“It’s not formal. But,” I gave her a quick up and down that wasn’t subtle at all, “it might be nice if you wash your hair at least once between now and then.”
“Well, get your ass downstairs, then, and let me take a shower.”
I clomped down the stairs and back into the kitchen. The sugar cookies I’d baked were cool enough to frost. Green and red icing with little silver candies. I was nearly halfway done when Rachel came in and sat down beside me at the table. She smelled nice, like jasmine. She watched me frost four of the cookies with green then picked up a knife and went to work with the red.
“Where’s Brian?”
“He’s doing some last minute shopping. Although I’m pretty sure that means he’s doing all of his shopping.”
She laughed heartily for some time--as though it was the funniest thing I’d ever said--and told me I was probably right. Then she became Chatty Rachel. Told me funny stories about dimwitted customers. Chubby women who ordered greasy cheeseburgers and a diet soda; fathers who wished they were watching football and drinking beer at Zeke’s instead of watching their kids gobble pizza and play video games; idiot teenagers who paid for snacks with loose change, then were impatient when it took her awhile to count it out.
She laughed at all of them and I laughed right along with her. It had been a long time since I’d seen her so chipper, since Thanksgiving Day, and I asked her if the holidays always did that to her. She only shrugged. She ended up eating more frosting than she spread, but I was too relieved that her moodiness had finally subsided, not to mention that her appetite had returned, to let it irritate me. After the last cookie was frosted and I was up to my elbows in dirty dishes, she said she had something important to tell me.
“Tess, I’ve decided I’m gonna be a lesbian.”
It was my turn to laugh heartily, because it had been awhile since I’d heard a really good joke, but I stopped when the cup hit my head. Fortunately it was plastic.
“Quit laughing at me.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. I am.”
“You’ve decided you’re gonna be a lesbian.”
“That’s right.”
“Decided.”
“Yeah.”
“Ah. So...you’re attracted to women?”
“Well...”
“I think you’d better figure that one out, Rach. Because if you’re not attracted to women, I’m pretty sure they’re not gonna let you in the lesbian club.”
“Tess...”
“What? Isn’t that sort of the number one rule?”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No I’m not. Well, maybe a little. But I just don’t think you’re a lesbian.”
“Why not?”
“Because. If you were, and I asked if you were attracted to women, you would’ve said, Hell yes or at least, sometimes or maybe even, a little. Not well…in the same voice Brian uses when he’s about to try a new vegetable.”I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so I turned my attention once more to my dishes. I rinsed the bowls, put them in the dish rack, pulled the plug and let the water drain out of the sink. I had to replace it. The remnants of red and green frosting had turned it a color that reminded me of blood. Then I filled the sink up again and started on the silverware.
“What if I’m a lesbian and I just don’t know it ‘cause I haven’t tried it?”
I dried my hands on a paper towel and turned to look at her again. I knew why she was asking, knew exactly what this entire conversation was really about. And I knew I had to deal with it, for real. Not just stand in front of her making lame jokes, hoping it would just get magically better on its own. Or just go away. So I leaned back against the counter and tried to figure out how to say what it was I wanted to tell her without sounding preachy.
“Look, Rach. I don’t know how it works. Okay? I don’t know why we’re…attracted to certain people. Or what makes it so some people are gay and some people aren’t. But if you like men…well, you can’t flip a switch and change just because you think you want to. Or because you’re afraid. Any more than Zeke could change just to shut those assholes up.”
She stood up, wandered over to the window, and looked outside. It was cold, but there was still no snow to show for it. It made it seem even colder.
“Listen to me. Most men aren’t like Tim.”
Or like your father.
I wanted to say it. Probably I should have. But I didn’t know how many worms she could handle at a time. Or how many cans of them I could juggle.
“I know.” She was still looking out the window.
“No. You don’t. But believe me, most of them are nice. Some of them are even better than nice. And I swear, Rachel, if you just give it time you’ll find one of those guys. Because you’re a good person and that’s what you deserve.”
“You said that already. You’ve said it a million times.”
“Well, I’m saying it again. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”
She sighed heavily and finally looked at me. Her eyes were so dark. Dark and gloomy, just like the sky behind her. “Tess…I couldn’t have that baby.”
“I know, Rach.”
She shook her head. “No, Tess. You don’t.”
“Well…I know you were afraid of Tim. And that you didn’t want to be tied to him for the rest of your life.”
What would that have been like for her? Kim and Laura each saw their husbands when they looked into their children’s eyes. They saw love. What would Rachel have seen? What would she have remembered? Every time she saw those eyes…
She didn’t say anything, just yawned and rubbed her own eyes with the heels of her hands. I didn’t bother to warn her about smudged mascara, because she wasn’t wearing any. She hadn’t worn any makeup since her appointment. Or done anything more to her hair than pull it back into a half-hearted ponytail. She looked like shit, and if she hadn’t already missed so much work I would have suggested she call in sick.
“What time do you have to be at work today?”
“Three o‘clock. But I think I’ll head out now.”
“Why? It’s not even twelve-thirty.”
“Yeah, but if I get there now Zeke might let me punch in early.” She yawned again, scratched her arms vigorously and said, “Oh, Tess…I just remembered…I mean, I really hate to ask it, but…is there any way I could borrow twenty bucks or so for gas? Just till Friday.”
“Oh, sure. Hang on.”
I walked into the bedroom, grabbed my purse from the top of Brian’s dresser, dug through my wallet, then headed back out to the kitchen. Rachel was standing in front of the food cupboard with her hands in her pockets.
“Well, I’ve only got five in cash, but…”
I was about to offer her the use of my debit card. Fill ’er up, Rach. Early Christmas present. It was on the tip of my tongue. But…
What are you hiding in your pockets?
It meant giving her my PIN number. Access to my checking account. My savings account. All of my money. Everything I had.
What the hell could she have in there, you idiot? Do you think she’s stealing cans of Brian’s Chef Boyardee?
I cleared my throat and finished the sentence this way: “…I can follow you into town. I gotta get some groceries anyway, and we can stop at the gas station.”
“No. Actually…never mind. I’ll fill up on the way home with my tips.”
“Come on, Rachel. It’s no big deal. Besides, you’re getting pretty low on food up there. You need to use your tips to buy groceries.”
I knew, even before I finished the sentence, that I’d blown it.
“Have you been goin’ through my shit upstairs?”
“No.”
She didn’t believe me and I didn’t blame her. I’d seriously considered doing just that on more than one occasion.
“Rachel I mean it. I haven’t been. It’s just that…I’ve hardly seen you bring home any groceries. That’s all.”
“So you’ve been watching me? What the fuck is this, a prison?”
“Excuse me for being concerned about you.”
“Well don’t be. I eat at work and sometimes I bring stuff home from there. That must be why you haven’t seen me bringing home groceries. And…anyway, just cut it out.”
“Fine.”
She nodded. “Well, I’m gonna get goin’.”
“I…hope you have a good day at work.” I said it even though I knew she wouldn’t. She liked Zeke--she loved him--but she hated working there. I didn’t blame her. And before she left I made her take the five. It made me feel like an idiot, because it was barely worth a gallon and a half of gas. She hesitated for a moment, looked at Abe--who stared up at her with a quizzical eye--then tucked it away in her pocket. She threw back a quick thanks without looking at me, and trudged upstairs. A few minutes later she got into her car and pulled away.
Once she was out of sight, I checked the cookies. The icing was hard, so I placed half a dozen of them on a plate for Brian. I put the rest in a Tupperware container and hid them under the counter, in the back, behind the pots and pans. Then I sat at the table and stared at the phone. I wanted to call Zeke. I almost did. But that’s when I heard Brian’s truck rumbling into the driveway.
I pasted on a smile and met him at the door. He was empty handed, but I tried to peek over his shoulder so I could see into his truck, to get a glimpse of what he’d bought. Futile, of course. Even if none of the gifts in there were for me--and, of course some of them were--it was That time. Rachel was gone and so it was time to have sex.
He lifted me up, into his strong, strong arms, and kissed me; full of passion and fire and tongue, just how I loved it. Then he carried me into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. And I tried to enjoy it; I tried really hard. Because Saturday Sex was better than Friday Sex, always. Friday was quick and frantic; just pent up horniness and frustration from a week of going without exploding onto the sheets. Saturday was always slow and hot and beautiful. But as I was lying underneath him I wasn’t thinking about his gorgeous body or his breathy, warm whispers. Not about his rugged hands or hot lips and tongue or even about how much I loved him. I was thinking about Rachel.
Because even though Zeke was a good guy, he was a business man. And even though he liked Rachel--even though he loved her--I couldn’t imagine him giving her any overtime. I knew that business was slow. Because when there’s a choice of either paying the oil bill and buying Christmas presents or taking your family out to eat, the diner is going to lose. Oh, yes Brian…right…there. Every time. But Zeke might be taking pity on her, because she’d missed so much work from being sick. That’s tough for anyone who works for minimum wage, especially around the holidays. That’s it, Brian. Just like…oh, just like that. And besides, she barely had enough money for gas, let alone for any recreational haze. But I knew, of course, that there were other ways of paying for haze. Lots of ways that boiled down to one. And now that the Lake Kids were gone there was only one place for her to go for that. One person…
That’s when I realized that Brian must be getting tired, and it just wasn’t going to happen; not if he stayed down there all day long. So there was only one thing to do and I’d never done it with him before. I grabbed his head and I gave him a show. Tried to think of how it was--exactly--I sounded when it was happening for real, all the groans and grunts and quick, light breaths; but it wasn’t something I normally paid attention to. I did my best, and must have been convincing, because before long his body was on mine again and his breath was warm and tangy on my face. And by then I really was thinking about how very much I loved him. I really was. Even as I was still worrying about Rachel.
When he was done he flopped back down on his pillow, and I snuggled in close beside him. Told him how good it had been. Because, really, it would have been if I’d been able to get into it. And once he caught his breath he rolled over onto his side and said:
“I gotta ask you a question.”
I nodded. I was ready for it, had been expecting it for weeks. I even had my answer prepared:
No, Brian, of course it’s not weird. It’s probably just leftover guilt from that night when your dad left her alone and you were out getting laid. You’ll get over it soon and everything will be back to normal. Soon. I understand. It really is okay…
“Was Rachel right? Are the windows really drafty upstairs?”
“Uh...oh. Um, I don’t know. Yeah I guess they are, actually. Most of the time I was up there it was warm weather, but…it was a little chilly last spring.”
“That’s what I thought.” He grabbed a wad of the blanket and wiped some sweat off of my stomach. “This house is wicked old, you know. It’s kinda falling apart. It needs new insulation, the pipes are rusty…the water pressure sucks, too.”
“Yep.”
“And I’ve been thinking that…maybe we should start saving some of our money together. So we can build a house of our own.”
“Uh…”
Saving. Together. House?
I blinked. “Oh. Well…I…that sounds…”
“A little out of left field, huh?”
“No. I mean, yeah. But.”
I looked at him, looked right into his eyes. He wasn’t scared and I knew why. He didn’t know that together and we and our are scary fucking words. Not yet. And I hoped--really--that he never found that out. Because it was a lesson he could only learn from one place. One person.
It was a huge step, but he thought we were strong enough and I believed him. There was something besides his eyes. There was his heartbeat. And it told me something even more important:
You’re safe with me. I’m strong, I can do this...
So I said, “That sounds perfect.”
Because it did. It sounded like exactly what I needed. He kissed me again, gently, and said that he loved me. And when I said it back I meant it.
I stayed in the bedroom while he wrapped presents in the living room. And while he struggled with paper and tape and ribbon I struggled with Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. If Tiffany Kendall could read it, then I sure as hell could too. When he was done with the presents he burst through the door, tossed my book aside and we made love again. This time I didn’t have to fake it. Because I knew.
Rachel was alright. She was doing fine and would only get better. Stronger. It was almost Christmas, and today she’d actually smiled. She’d even laughed. And after Christmas was the New Year, a fresh start. That’s what she really needed, what everyone needs. And then would come spring and summer. And someday--someday soon--she’d be educated. Making Something Of Herself. Happy. Someday soon.
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