Choices (12 page)

“Okay, enough pool for today- e
veryone inside for some toe up time while I walk Brandon out.” Amidst a chorus of “awww..MOM” my little people walked sullenly into the house.

I walked Brandon to his truck. His gaze was thoughtful and intense. He raised his hand to brush a strand of errant hair from my face. T
hank God, we were blocked from any nosy neighbor’s view due to the massiveness of his truck.

“You know, my offer to come with me still stands.” He looked hopeful and
determined a hard combination to resist.

“You cannot be serious! Besides what does that make me if I accept- a desperate overage floozy?
How do I know that you’ll respect me in the morning? Brandon, we don’t even know each other. I’m married. Okay, I’ll admit things haven’t been right between Paul and me for years now but...still. What would I do with the kids, how do I get away, and what would we really be accomplishing, too many what ifs… I know that there is a strong, undeniable attraction between both of us but we need to be reasonable and mature about what could happen.” I was breathless and amazed that I finally admitted out loud that Paul and I were in trouble.

“You’re right Laurel. I should back off and give you your space. I just don’t want to. I don’t think I can. You can call it immaturity
, arrogance, whatever...but I’ve never felt this magnetic pull toward someone before I met you and I think you feel the same way.  I just know when opportunities present themselves you need to take them, do first ask questions later. When you’re looking at your life twenty years from now, don’t you want to say to yourself that you had the courage to get in the truck with him - live life with no regrets, live in the moment?” His eyes were a smoky blue now, filled with hope, emotion and anticipation. Okay, it was his last statement that caught my attention, exhilarated my senses and set my inner organized planner free.

“Give me two hours to arrange a babysitter and pack my things. I’ll meet you at your place. Wait a minute I don’t even know where your place is.” He scribbled down an address in Center City. 

“Two hours, Laurel or I’m coming back here to get you and your neighbors can watch as I scoop you up and take you away with me. Won’t you be the talk of the neighborhood?” His sea blue eyes were smoky and smoldering now. With a burning, enticing look that was filled with many unanswered desires and nearly impossible to refuse, he got into the truck and drove down the driveway. How on earth was he able to smolder like that? How was he able to express such passion and intensity while being so young? My feet were rooted to the asphalt as I imagined our illicit weekend. With the memory of his smoky blue smoldering eyes seared into my brain, I rushed into the house and quickly made my plans.

It was only me, my mom, Helen and my sisters Liz and Lisa growing up. I know my mom liked
the letter L. Everyone has their thing, right?  My dad left when we were very small. My mom doesn’t talk about it. It still hurts too much, even after thirty five years.  She was so in love with him; still is I think. He just up and left one day went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. Whew, what is it with the cigarettes? What? Do they hold some type of mystical powers that lure married men away from their wives and children? We would do anything for one another - anything. We only had each other to depend on. My mom really didn’t have any other family. I guess her family could tell already what a creep my dad was and they said she was on her own. We never knew our grandparents or our aunts. My mom had two sisters. She talked about them often but we never met them. She seemed at peace with the situation.

We grew up middle cla
ss in a small suburb just outside of Philadelphia. It was small, hometown stuff - quiet and charming filled with baseball fields, swimming pools, schools and parks. We lived amidst row homes that reminded my mother of the city of her childhood. It was a close-knit community, one that took care of each other - neighbors who looked after each other’s kids, families that played together during block parties, fathers that sat outside at night in the summertime, drinking beer and talking about their day at work. Okay, that one hurt, but life goes on. You have a choice, right? Either let the pain eat you alive, or make it work for you; challenge it into something, anything productive. I chose to help people; that was always my calling, listening and helping, taking care of others. I would somehow make up for the loss by always being there for people, especially family. My Liz and Lisa and Helen are the same way - fiercely loyal, fiercely independent, and fiercely strong. Always ready to lend a hand -always.

You can only count on those you trust, with your life, your dreams, your desires and your secrets. You would think only family, people of the same blood, people who would lay down their lives for you, take a bullet, push you out of the way of a passing car, would have bonds so deep and fortified, strong. Only family.  I was wrong.

Growing up with Helen was the type of experience that when you’re going through it you want to cry but you know that one day you’ll look back and laugh at it. My mother found herself alone with three girls to raise and lacking a higher education degree, was in a bit of quandry in the early eighties. She just learned to drive about five years before that. Helen did finish high school and got married at twenty. Wow, at twenty, I was still looking for the best party I could find. What a difference a generation makes. When I look back at my mother’s courageousness, she is inspiring. She managed to keep me and my sisters fed and clothed and students of a parochial school. No small feat for a woman without a college degree.

It wasn’t easy in the beginning. I remember the first job for her was selling nuts at 30
th
and Market St. thanks to our sexy, self made entrepreneurial divorcee, Mrs. Milmont. Why she kept the Mrs. I’ll never know, because, wow, she was a knock out! That woman oozed sex appeal and confidence from every pore of her olive skinned tanned and toned body. She was no push over either. Mrs. Milmont created her own business when her husband left her. “I’ll be damned if I’m going back to work in some stupid office pushing pencils and answering phones; no effing way!” I can still hear her voice echo through my head and see her standing behind our houses in the alleyway with her hands on her hips hitching up her nut cart to her station wagon and my mother shaking her head in agreement. We would have never made it through that first summer after my father left if it wasn’t for her generosity and under the table Friday afternoon paydays.

My mother Helen, outside on the street selling nuts in the heat, the snow and the rain so she c
ould keep a roof over our heads was about the funniest job I think she ever held even to this day. She had some amazing stories and I had the privilege of listening to them and going and sharing in the experience. We still laugh about them and most of the time our dinners revolve around her constantly retelling these old stories. My sisters and I would and still do roll our eyes and cover an unavoidable smirk, wave a hand in the air to encourage Helen and allow her to continue on with the reminiscing.

“Did I tell you about the time when Mrs. Milmont and I were stuck
on the South Street bridge on our way to our spot in front of the Bulletin. You know the time, when the nut cart became unhitched from the station wagon right in the middle of rush hour traffic on the South Street Bridge.”

“Why, yes, Helen, I do remember and wasn’t that…” I would try to change the subject to no avail and my
sisters would laugh and carry on a conversation amongst themselves while Helen had my full attention.

“I remember Marie telling me, ‘Helen, jump in the driver’s seat, I’m going to get out, direct traffic around us and re-hitch the cart’.” She took a deep breathe and continued on with her memories. “I remember thinking, ‘What is she crazy? How the hell is she going to do that?’ But you knew Mrs. Milmont, God rest her soul, there was no telling her what to do so I patiently waited until she was finished yelling at the other drivers and re-hitched the cart. Oh, and did I mention that it was about 22 degrees outside as well. You know I’m good like that.”

“Hmm…good like what Mom?” I asked.

“You know patient.”

“Yes, patient, uh hum, of course Mom.” I smiled at her and refocused my thoughts on her story telling and away from how I was going to murder my sisters.

“
Oh and how about the time when I chased down that thief right outside the Bulletin at our spot on 30
th
and Market; you remember that don’t you, Laurel?”

“Ah, yeah, Mom, I remember that one
quite well. How the hell could I forget it? It gave me nightmares for years! I was right there all of ten years old, helping you weigh and bag nuts in the cart when you took off screaming like a banshee after some stranger who could have had a gun and turned around and killed you while you were chasing him all to save a few dollars for Marie Milmont!” I flushed with fear and anger at just remembering the story.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Laurel, stop being so dramatic!
I was fine. No harm done and besides those few dollars wasn’t going to Marie Milmont they were going to put food on the table.” She huffed while she passed me the mashed potatoes.

“Dramatic! I was te
n, Helen, ten! C’mon Lisa, Liz - a little help here!” I banged on the dining room table to get their attention. “You could have been killed, Mom, right there in front of me, right in front of my eyes if it wasn’t for the man that you were waiting on who took after you and made you stop. At least he acknowledged my fear.”

“No, I don’t think it was him, actually. I think it was the woman who was with him who held you back so you wouldn’t run after me. I think she was comforting you until I came back.” Helen refilled my water glass. “Go on, Laurel, drink you
r water, you look like you’re about to explode and besides I did acknowledge your fear; I closed the cart early that day and called for Marie to pick us up at 3 instead of 5.”

“Yeah, really, Helen you know she was only ten and you did scare the shit out of her or should I say pee.” Liz smirked and stifled an incriminating giggle along with Lisa.

“Well, Liz, you probably would have peed your bed too at night if you were there with Helen instead of Laurel. That was traumatic for Laurel.” Lisa was giggling now too.

“Oh sure laugh, you wench, it wasn’t your bed she crawled into at night stinking of pee and getting you all wet.” Liz proceeded to throw a napkin at her.

“Girls, now stop making fun of Laurel, apparently you’re spoiling her chance at trying to make me feel bad, now stop. Lisa pick up the napkin and give it back to Liz.” Helen said trying to stifle her own laugh.

“Oh, you know what you three have always been out to get me, even now as an adult! And in my own defense I was only ten after all.” I pushed away from the table.

“Yes, Laurel, sweetheart, you mentioned that.” Helen said as she smiled sweetly and reached to pat my hand and prevent me from leaving the table. “Now, you’ve had your say, now sit down and have your dessert.”

I met Paul, just like Kristy met Mitch at the end of my senior year of high school. I had my eye on him since my junior year when he was a senior. Paul was amazing, smart, funny, so gorgeous and athletic, captain of the wrestling team.  I actually got the chance to meet him at a party the end of my senior year. He just returned from his freshman year at Penn State. Whoa, a college man and a frat boy to boot! Jackpot! It’s funny what your priorities are at the tender age of eighteen. It’s not so impressive now, at forty. Wasn’t that a coincidence, I said, I was going to Penn State too. I couldn’t believe he was even remotely interested in me. We talked while we waited in line to use the bathroom. It was a very long line or suddenly neither one of us had to use the bathroom. Just like Kristy, we were inseparable ever since.

We had a blast in college together. He was my protector and my confidante. Helen was so funny! She always felt so secure when I was going out with a 6’3” male of 215 pounds. She was sure I wasn’t going to get hurt with him around.

“Mom, are you kidding me? Your mind was at ease when I was going out with Paul, more so then my girlfriends. Paul? Paul, who could have date-raped me or overpowered me and killed me and stuffed me in the trunk of a car. You thought I was safer with him than my girlfriends.”

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic, would you! You know Paul would never do anything like that. I just meant that if you were at a party and things got out of hand, Paul would be there to protect you.”

I giggled. She was right. She had no idea how much trouble I got into when I was with Paul instead of my girlfriends. She had no idea how many times he was able to protect
me- such as the time we fell out of his bunk bed during some athletic sex or we fell out of the shower, twisted in the shower curtain and he protected me or better yet the time he shoved me into the bushes when the campus police where chasing us and he got nabbed instead of me. I felt invincible with him- no harm could ever touch me.

We had our share of ups and downs while we were in college trying to figure everything out
- relationships, career choices, friendships. We grew together. We stayed together. Our love wasn’t the type of love that Kristy and Mitch shared. It wasn’t that intense but it was pure and honest and true. We’ve had our share of premarital peaks and valleys. We suffered through a horrible breakup, so sad. I was crushed, surprised, overwhelmed. We were still on the cusp of real adulthood, not just in numbers but maturity of heart and spirit.  I remember our last really serious breakup which was the beginning of our engagement right before we finished college.