Crystal Lies (12 page)

“That’s nice,” I told her as I reached up to touch it.

She nodded. “A real improvement.”

“Glennis!” called Sherry as she came into the salon. “Is that really you?” I turned and smiled. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, you look absolutely stunning!”

“Oh, I don’t know—”

“But we need Linda now.” Sherry glanced over to the girl at the receptionist desk. “Is Linda here?”

“She’s in the back,” said the girl. “You want me to call her out?”

“Yes,” said Sherry. Then she took my hand and led me over to a station with cosmetics.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said when I realized what Sherry had in mind. “I’m pretty much a minimalist when it comes to makeup.”

“Obviously,” said Sherry as she practically forced me into the chair.

“But I don’t go for much makeup—”

“Don’t worry, Glennis,” she assured me. “Linda is very tasteful. You won’t look like a clown.”

Finally it was over, and I emerged from Linda’s hands, not looking like a clown exactly, but perhaps a little more dramatic than I would have preferred. However I did like the colors Linda had chosen and even decided to purchase a few items.

“The haircut and color are on me,” said Sherry as she pushed my money away.

“No,” I insisted. “You can’t—”

“I can and I will.” She turned and smiled at me. “I just wrote out an offer on a house, and I feel like celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” I told her. “But you don’t need to—”

“No arguing with me, Glennis. It was my idea, and I intend to pay
for it. Then I can take all the credit when people start complimenting you on your new look.”

So I decided not to argue. Instead I just hugged her when we got outside. “Thanks,” I told her.

“I wish I could take you out and show you off,” she teased. “But Rod and I are having dinner at the Franklins’ tonight.”

I waved my hand. “That’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s been a long day for me anyway.” So we said good-bye, and I got into the Range Rover just as it began to rain. I couldn’t help but pull down the rearview mirror to take a peek at myself again. I blinked in surprise. I really did look different. Then I started the engine and turned on the windshield wipers and just sat there. I considered going home to my apartment but knew that Jacob wouldn’t get off work until after nine. Maybe it was hearing that Rod and Sherry had a dinner date, or maybe it was being all dressed up with nowhere to go, but suddenly I felt very, very lonely.

I remembered the deep-breathing exercise that Dr. Abrams had told me about, and sitting there in my SUV with rain pelting down and wipers going, I attempted to calm myself by breathing deeply. To my relief, it seemed to work. Then I remembered something Dr. Abrams had said about taking care of myself first. Now, admittedly, this was a new concept to me. I mean I’d spent the past twenty-five years taking care of everyone else’s needs before ever considering my own. I wasn’t even sure how to go about it.

“What do
you
need, Glennis?” I asked myself aloud, feeling a bit silly. Then my stomach growled, and I realized I was hungry. And what I felt hungry for was a big plateful of pesto linguini and rock shrimp from Sindalli’s.

Why not? I asked myself. I put the Range Rover into gear and drove over to the restaurant. Then thankful that it wasn’t quite six, and still early for the dinner rush, I went inside and asked for a “table for one.” Okay, it
felt very, very strange to do this, and my heart actually began to race with anxiety over sitting by myself at a table and eating all alone. But I took a deep calming breath and told myself it would be okay and I’d better get used to it.

The waiter smiled politely as he escorted me to a lonely little table near the kitchen. But I didn’t mind the location so much. It was highly preferable to being right out in the middle where everyone could see that I was dining alone. And I must admit that the noises coming from the kitchen sounded somewhat warm and familiar. Really, I told myself, this isn’t so bad.

I watched as other couples and families and groups came in, quickly filling our town’s most expensive restaurant. Not so unusual for a Friday night. And slowly but surely, I began to relax, and I started to enjoy a bit of people watching, and I thought perhaps dining alone had its upside after all. Not to mention that the food and service were excellent.

Shortly after the waiter set my entrée before me, and after I’d taken a few delicious bites, I nearly fell out of my chair. My heart seemed to stop beating as I saw Geoffrey being seated at a table on the other side of the dining room, and across the table from him, already seated and beaming up at him, was Judith Ramsey. It appeared obvious by their happy and relaxed expressions that they hadn’t noticed me. And perhaps they might not ever look up and see me since the restaurant was dimly lit with only the soft glow of small oil lamps illuminating the tables—and since their eyes seemed to be fixed on each other.

Unreal. I couldn’t believe the odds of my seeing them—and in Sindalli’s of all places! This is where Geoffrey always took me for our special dates. Perhaps I should’ve known better. Or perhaps I had done this subconsciously. Is it possible that I came here tonight hoping to see them? Whatever the case, I wished I wasn’t here now. And I knew if they saw me, they would assume it was no coincidence. They might even think I was stalking them.

I’m not sure how long I sat there staring at them, wondering how I could escape this predicament, but finally the waiter approached my table and with concern asked if there was anything wrong with my food.

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s wonderful.”

“Oh, good.”

“But I’m afraid it’s more than I can eat right now. Do you think you could possibly box up what’s left?”

“Certainly.”

And while the young man was off in the kitchen, dumping my beautifully arranged pasta into a takeout Styrofoam box, I considered how I could slip out of the restaurant without being seen by them. There was an emergency exit just opposite the kitchen, but I felt certain that would sound an alarm and draw everyone’s attention. I could try to walk around the far side of the restaurant, but going in and out of tables would probably draw attention as well.

Finally I wondered why I naturally assumed that I should be the one to go sneaking around to avoid
them
. It occurred to me that I had as much right as anyone to be eating in this particular restaurant. In fact, I had even more right than my husband, who was barely even separated before he started publicly dating another woman.

And so, after the waiter returned with my box and a bill that was more than I’d expected, I stood up, and with what little confidence I could muster, I began to walk directly through the restaurant. I knew there was no graceful way to avoid their table, at least not without making a spectacle of myself, and besides I had conjured up a plan. Okay, maybe it was a foolish plan, but at the time it felt perfect.

I walked right up to their table and paused there until they finally looked up and realized it was me. I could see the look of horrified surprise in Geoffrey’s eyes, not just at seeing me standing there, but also because I looked different. It was almost as if he didn’t recognize me at first.

“Glennis,” he whispered.

“Geoffrey,” I said calmly,“what a surprise.”

Judith remained silent, but I could tell by her expression that she was genuinely worried. And perhaps even frightened. I wondered what she thought I might do to her. Make a horrible scene, scream and shout, initiate a catfight with her?

“What are you—”

“Don’t worry” I smiled. “I only stopped by to say hello.”

He seemed both relieved and yet still agitated. “We came here to celebrate,” he said quickly. “The lawsuit is finally over. We won. John and Anton should be joining us any minute.” He glanced over his shoulder as if wishing for the other two city councilmen to suddenly appear out of nowhere. However, their table was only set for two, and once again, I knew my husband was lying.

“You must be so happy.” I looked evenly at him, then over to her and back to him again. “Congratulations,” I said,“to both of you.”

He nodded. “Yes, its a huge relief.”

“Well, here then.” I handed him my bill. “Since you’re celebrating and all.”

He nodded. “No problem.”

“It’s certainly a lot cheaper than taking me on that anniversary trip to the Caribbean.”

Then I turned and walked away All right, a free dinner under those particular circumstances wasn’t much of a prize. But I did get a pitiful bit of satisfaction for interrupting them like that and, I hoped, spoiling their dinner.

By the time Jacob came home, I had removed my new designer suit and donned my old gray sweats again. Even so, he did a double take when he came in the door.

“Wow, Mom, you look different,” he said as he put a pizza box on the counter, one of the perks of his job. Sometimes an order was wrong, and if no one wanted it, the employees were allowed to take it home.

I patted my hair. “It was Sherry’s idea.”

“Looks really cool,” he said as he came and flopped down on the couch beside me. “How was work?”

He sighed and shook his head. “My manager is a jerk.”

“Why’s that?”

“He fired Daniel today.”

“That’s too bad. Why?”

“Just because he was late.”

“That seems pretty harsh. Had Daniel been late before?”

“Yeah, I guess. But even so, Daniel was a hard worker. Some of the other guys spend all their time trying to get out of work. Daniel would really get in there and get stuff done.”

“Too bad. Does Daniel have some idea for another job?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked up at the clock. “I was thinking I might go over and try to cheer him up. Do you mind?”

So far Jacob had been good to come home every night after work. He’d play his music and watch TV and finally go to bed. It had been comforting knowing where he was this past week. Suddenly the idea of his going out made me uneasy. Still, I knew that I couldn’t make him stay home against his will.

“Do you work tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah, but not until three.”

“Oh.”

“I just feel worried about Daniel,” Jacob said as he stood up. He reached for the pizza box. “Do you want any of this, Mom?” I shook my head. “No, I’ve already eaten.”

“I thought I’d take it to Daniel.” Then he smiled that same dashing smile that had gotten him past me time after time. “You don’t mind being alone tonight, do you, Mom?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I won’t be out late,” he assured me as he headed for the door.

“Drive carefully,” I said, not even sure why I bothered. Habit I guess.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I’m almost out of gas, and I don’t get paid until next week. Do you think I could borrow some cash, Mom? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

I pulled my purse over and fished out a twenty and handed it to him. “You don’t have to pay me back, Jake,” I told him. “I’m just glad that you have a job and are making good choices.” I looked into his eyes and hoped that my words were the truth.

“I’m glad too, Mom. It feels really good to be clean and working. I’ve even been thinking about school.”

“Really?” I felt a surge of hope.

“Yeah. I know it’s too late for fall term now. But maybe I could look into winter.”

“Oh, Jacob!” I smiled broadly. “That would be so great.”

“Yeah, I think it’d be cool.” He nodded. “Have a good evening.”

“You, too,” I called as he left.

I suppose I wasn’t too surprised when he still hadn’t come home by midnight, but I wished I’d thought to ask for a phone number. Still, I reminded myself as I got ready for bed, Jacob was turning his life around. He was working hard, thinking about continuing his education. And tonight he’d even gone out to encourage a friend who was feeling down. Now this was a son a mother could be proud of. Right? Even so, I tossed and turned all night long. I’m not sure if it was over Jacob’s absence or the scene at the restaurant, but I know I had dark circles under my eyes the next morning.

Just the same, I was relieved to see that Jacob had come home after all. Sacked out on his futon, he still had his clothes on, but at least he was safe. Feeling somewhat encouraged, I did my regular morning run, which had increased to nearly an hour including a cool-down period. Then after my shower, I peeked into Jacob’s room to see that he was still sleeping soundly. I decided to make us both a nice breakfast of blueberry muffins and cheese omelets.

But Jacob’s breakfast went untouched as he continued to sleep. About two o’clock I decided to wake him up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as I gently shook him.

I told him the time and reminded him about work, and to my relief he finally pulled himself out of bed, showered, and left. Even so, that same old feeling of worry began gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I wondered if this could be the beginning of trouble again.

But Jacob came home after work and seemed to be doing fine. And for the following week, we continued to live fairly contentedly in our small and slightly cramped home. Oh, sure, he got in pretty late a couple of times, but he was always in good spirits, and his explanation always was that he’d been jamming with Daniel and some friends.

“We might even try to get some gigs this winter,” he told me as he poured himself a big bowl of cereal and drowned it with milk.

“That would be great,” I said, replacing the milk jug back in the fridge for him.

And, really, I figured music was probably a good distraction for him, something to keep him away from the temptation of drugs. I knew a little about distractions myself, since I spent most of my time trying to keep myself busy these days. It was my way of distracting myself from my own messed-up life—or rather my marriage. I relied on diversions like my daily morning runs. And on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’d walk Rufus and then have tea with Mrs. Fieldstone.

I also busied myself by keeping the apartment immaculate. For some reason I felt that if I could keep everything perfectly in place and running like clockwork, it would make it easier for Jacob to stay on track. I didn’t even mind cleaning his room, a practice I had long since given up when we were living in our old house. But the apartment was small and easy to maintain. Even the menial tasks, like scrubbing the grout between the tiles in the shower until the little room gleamed, didn’t bother me. I’m sure the place had never been so clean. Not only would I get my cleaning deposit back in February, but in all fairness the management should thank me for leaving the place in much better condition than I’d found it. In an attempt to remove old pet smells, I’d already steam-cleaned the carpets twice and was even considering painting the walls to freshen them up.

I also distracted myself by shopping for groceries at More-4-Less, and since the store was only eight blocks from the apartments, I would sometimes walk when I only needed a few items. Sylvia had explained the concept of clipping coupons to me. So now I would search through the Sunday paper or old magazines left in the laundry room for useful coupons. These I kept separated by category in an old wallet so they would be ready when I needed them—I knew that Sylvia had little patience for
customers who held her up by digging around in search of some missing coupon for fifty cents off. I also knew about “double off” coupons. Sometimes More-4-Less would honor offers made by competing stores by giving you twice the face value of the manufacturer’s coupon. Already I had saved more than ten dollars by using these.

Twice a week I busied myself by doing the laundry and had my routine down to a fine science. In my laundry pack, an old backpack I’d confiscated from Jacob’s castoffs, I kept a jug of laundry soap, dryer sheets, rolls of quarters, and a magazine or book in case I was inclined to stick around and watch the spin cycle do its thing. I would put on my backpack, then lug an extra-large basket of already separated items downstairs to the laundry room. I’d discovered the best time to find an empty machine was in the morning. And I’d learned the hard way to carefully check the machine before dumping in my load. One time I put a load of delicates into a washer that had just washed a load of what must’ve been mud-encrusted work clothes. I had to do my delicates twice. A serious waste of quarters.

Today I was doing mostly sheets and towels. I had just filled the washer, loaded my quarters, and was listening to make sure the machine was filling.

“You new around here?”

Surprised, since no one had been in here when I came in, I turned to see a man standing in front of an open dryer. His weathered skin was the color of an old copper penny, and he looked to be about eighty, although I’ve never been good at guessing ages.

“Sort of,” I told him. “I’ve been here about a month now.”

He nodded as he stooped over to pull his laundry from the dryer into a wicker basket. “Thought I seen you before,” he said as he slowly stood up straight and extended his hand. “Name’s Jack.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Glennis.”

He dropped his last item into his basket and then cleaned the lint from the filter and closed the dryer door.

I smiled now. “It’s refreshing to see that some men actually know how to do their own laundry.”

He lifted his basket to the folding table and began to sort and fold his clothes. “Well, I’m very picky about my laundry,” he said as he straightened his socks and folded them together. “I like it just so.”

“I can see that.” To be honest, I felt pretty certain that his laundering skills would put me to shame.

“Reckon its the result of having been such a slob for so many years.”

I surveyed his tidy appearance. Neatly pressed shirt and creased trousers. Even his shoes looked recently polished, and he had a folded handkerchief tucked into his shirt pocket. “You don’t look like a slob to me,” I told him.

“Maybe not now. But, believe you me, I used to be.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so I just nodded.

“That was back in my drinking days.” He gave a white sleeveless undershirt a shake, then smoothed it out on the table. “Folks used to call me Jack Daniels back then.” He chuckled. “But my last name’s really Smart. Thing is, I wasn’t too smart back in those days.”

“Was that a long time ago?” I asked.

His brow creased as he considered my question. “Well, I got sober on January 17, 1977. I used to keep an exact count of years, months, and days, but after I hit twenty-five years, I figured maybe I didn’t need to do that no more.”

“That’s great,” I told him as I turned to fill the second washing machine. The room was quiet as I put in a load of sheets and inserted my quarters. I almost wondered if Jack Smart had already left. But he was just watching me.

“Sorry about that.” He ran a wrinkled hand over his short-cropped
gray hair. “Don’t know what gets me started sometimes. I’m sure you don’t want to hear me going on like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I assured him. “I think it’s…interesting.”

“Really?” he brightened now. “You in recovery too?”

I shook my head. “No…”

“Oh.”

“But I have a son with some, uh, problems.”

He nodded and frowned. “A drinker?”

“Yeah, and he’s had some troubles with drugs, too.”

“That’s a shame.” He gave a white handkerchief a shake. “Alcohol is bad enough, but drugs, well, they can really ruin a young life.”

“But he’s doing okay now,” I reassured him. “He’s got a job and is staying clean and everything.”

“So he’s in recovery.”

“Recovery?” I considered this. “Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Jack looked unconvinced. “That’s not exactly how it works. Either you’re in recovery or you’re not.”

“Well, he’s not in any program exactly…” Jack shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

“You think he should be?”

“I most definitely do.” He set his neatly folded handkerchief on the top of his laundry, then turned to look at me. “Maybe your boy would like to come to AA with me.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“We got a couple of fellas who’re recovering from drug addiction that come to our meetings too.”

“Really?”

“Oh, sure. Sometimes those two kinds of addictions go hand in hand. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if most drug addicts didn’t start out by drinking alcohol. Of course, you’ve got your purists at AA too.” He made
a little chuckling sound. “There are always those alcoholics who think they’re better than drug addicts. Pretty funny if you think about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m in apartment 17A if your son’s interested. I don’t have a telephone. Don’t really see the need for one since I got nobody to call.” His smile faded a bit. “But if your boy wants to go with me, just tell him to come knocking on my door. Or maybe he’d just like to talk to someone…someone who’s been down some pretty hard roads and lost a lot along the way. I got plenty of stories to tell.”

“Thanks, Jack. I’ll let him know. Apartment 17A, right?”

“That’s the one. And the AA meetings are on Wednesdays at six thirty. I usually just ride the bus unless my buddy Hank decides to stop by and give me a ride in his Caddie.”

“Well, Jacob has a car,” I said eagerly. “If he decides to go, maybe he could give you a ride.” Already my mind was cranking on this possibility. Perhaps I could paint the picture of this sad and lonely old man for Jacob, play upon my son’s compassionate side, and encourage him to give Jack a ride to the meeting next week. It might work.

But that evening when I suggested this to Jacob, he was reluctant. “First of all, I have to work next Wednesday,” he told me. Then he frowned. “I mean I feel sorry for this old dude, Mom. But, honestly, do you really think I need to go to Alcoholics Anonymous?” He seemed hurt by my suggestion.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I told him. “I guess I just thought it couldn’t hurt, you know. Jack said that anyone who’s had a problem with addiction, whether it’s alcohol or drugs, needs to be in some kind of recovery program to get better.”