Cupid's Christmas (6 page)

“It’s not just the computer, it’s...” Lindsay gave a sigh that stretched itself out like a clothesline, and then said, “It’s everything, it’s my whole life…”

“What’s wrong with your life?” John had been a single father for nine years and, try as he might, he’d never fully understood Lindsay. There was always a secondary meaning behind the words she spoke—it was a secret code that parents were not privy to. The life she was dissatisfied with could mean anything from boyfriend problems to a dress lost at the dry cleaner. He listened to the muffled sobs for a minute longer then said, “Lindsay, please stop that crying. Just tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t,” she snuffed. “I lost my job, and my building is going condo. I have to be out of here by the end of next month.”

“Have you found another apartment?” John asked, trying to address the practicalities of the situation. “Do you need money to move?”

“No, I don’t have another apartment.” She started to sob again. “I haven’t even looked. This is New York—no building will rent to someone who doesn’t have a job. They want employment references. ”

Since Lindsay seemed unwilling to talk about what exactly she needed help with, John suggested, “Why don’t you move home? Take some time off and get your thoughts together. It’ll be a lot easier to decide what you want to do, if you’re not stressed.”

“Oh Dad, I can’t possibly…”

“Sure you can. You’ve got no reason to stay in New York.” 

“Yes I do,” she answered, “I’ve got to look for a job and then there’s all this furniture…” Lindsay looked around the room and realized she actually had very little. A bed she’d ordered online, a dresser she’d gotten from the Salvation Army Thrift Store, a sofa that had been left by the previous tenant, two lamps, an on-again-off-again television and a bunch of books.  The truth was that there was nothing to keep her here. Everything she’d once had was now gone. She could even feel herself disappearing by bits and pieces. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” she asked.

“Mind? Why, I’d be delighted. You can have your old room. We can give it a fresh coat of paint if you want. Maybe have a few cookouts…”

He painted a picture that Lindsay rapidly became part of. It would be as it had always been. She could already see each and every room of the house, her car still in the garage, a flowered comforter covering her bed, the smell of hamburgers sizzling on the grill, friends, laughter…she even pictured the dog running beside her. A warm surge of a happiness rose in her heart and she answered yes without pausing to consider that sometimes things change.

T
his is where it all starts to go wrong—I can already see it happening. Lindsay was supposed to go to Florida and visit Sara for a month—that’s where she was going to adopt the dog who would be her constant companion for the next three weeks. Then on a Saturday afternoon as she strolled along the sand at Saint Petersburg Beach, she’d meet the handsome young architect who is right now planning a Florida golf vacation. I had it worked out perfectly. But this all goes back to what I said earlier… Lindsay is totally unpredictable. Now I have to start scrambling around for a new plan which is not necessarily easy.  Handsome human males with a pleasant disposition are not exactly falling off of trees, if you know what I mean.

Everything boils down to one simple fact—when humans are in love, everything is right with the world. If Lindsay fell in love with the architect, she’d have no problem with her father marrying Eleanor, but if she’s broken-hearted and miserable…well, let’s just say watch out! 

The next morning, Lindsay rose early and began packing. By noon she had emptied out the refrigerator, packed her laptop, two books and the clothes she’d be taking. Anything that didn’t fit in the large suitcase, Lindsay left behind. After three years in New York, her life had become so small it could fit into one suitcase. When she wheeled the bulging bag into the hallway and closed the door behind her, there was no hesitation in her movement. She didn’t bother to look back or double-lock the apartment door.

She stepped from the elevator tugging the suitcase behind her, crossed the lobby and handed Walker the keys. “Would you mind calling the Salvation Army Thrift shop to come and pick up the stuff in my apartment?” she asked.

“Okay,” he answered. “Where you off to?”

“Home,” she said. “I’m going home.”

The old man smiled. “Good,” he nodded, “…real good.”

Eleanor

J
ohn is the sweetest and most loving man I’ve ever known, but he’s got a blind spot when it comes to understanding a woman’s feelings. He thinks Lindsay will see me as a second mother, but that’s pure foolishness. She’s a grown woman, not a child. It’s more likely she’ll consider me an adversary, and I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if she felt downright resentful. I’ve been there, and I know how I felt.

I was fourteen years old when Mama and Daddy got divorced. They fought tooth and nail until one day he slammed out the door and never even looked back. Three years later Mama remarried, and I just about hated her for doing it. I hated Mama and my stepdaddy too. Every word out of my mouth was an argument, and if she looked at me crosswise, I’d say she was doing it because of him. It took me almost two years to warm up to the poor man, and when I finally did, he turned out to be a really good stepdad. Matter of fact, he was the one who taught me to drive after Mama gave up, claiming I was hopeless.

Regardless of what John thinks, I’ll bet Lindsay feels about like I felt. It’s something to ponder, that’s for sure. Hopefully, there’s a way to get around what she’s feeling, but right now I don’t know what it might be.

One thing I do know is that he should have told his daughter about us long before this. “I’m gonna tell her tomorrow,” he said and then he suggested we all go out to dinner and get acquainted. I squashed that idea darn quick. You can’t just shove me in Lindsay’s face and expect she’ll like it, I said. She needs time to adjust to the thought of her daddy remarrying. Take her to dinner, I told John, spend some time being interested in what
she
has to say, and then tell her about me. If he talks about me like I’m just a close friend, she might be less apt to view me with a heart full of anger.

A situation such as this is almost like reaching for a stray dog. You don’t know what hurts that animal’s suffered so if you try to grab hold of it right away the dog is likely to sink its teeth into your hand. The only way to make friends is to wait and let the animal come to you. People aren’t all that different. John’s got to give Lindsay time to sniff me and make sure I’m not looking to harm her.   

I’m praying he has the good sense to not even mention the idea of us being married or me being Lindsay’s second mother. The truth is the girl doesn’t need a replacement mother, but after hearing what I’ve heard, I’m betting she could use a good friend.

If Lindsay is willing to let me be her friend, I’ll be way more than happy.

Cupid…The Homecoming

I
watched Lindsay walk out of her apartment building and I could see she had no regrets. I’m back to square one when it comes to finding her Mister Wonderful, but she thinks everything is coming up roses. She’s going home, and home to her is a place where things remain the same. To her home is a place where nothing bad can happen. 

Lindsay thinks her troubles are over, and she’s totally convinced she’ll find the same happiness she had as a child. What an odd lot humans are. History books, songs and stories are filled with tales of those who’ve made the exact same mistake, and yet every human thinks in their case it will turn out different. Few ever come to realize that love, wonderful though it may be, is not always easy. They look at it through rose-colored glasses and see nothing but blue skies and sun, when in truth love often comes wrapped in a storm cloud. Eleanor and John will soon become painfully aware of this.

D
ragging the suitcase behind her and bumping it up and down the curbs as she walked, Lindsay headed toward the Budget-Rent-A-Car on Thirty-First Street. After filling out several forms that were nowhere near as complicated as the job applications, she drove away in a Honda Civic, turned down Thirty-Eighth and pointed herself toward the Lincoln Tunnel.

When she left New York, the sky was overcast and dark grey, the clouds low and weighted with rain. But when she exited the tunnel, the sky had cleared and the sun was now so bright she had to flip down the visor. Lindsay took this as an omen and began to believe her life was going to get better. By the time she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, she was certain of it, and that certainty increased with every mile she traveled.

Lindsay’s thoughts drifted back to the friends she hadn’t seen in so many years, friends she’d for so long been promising to call. What a terrible friend I’ve been, she sighed, I should have called them more often. Donna Bobbs called me months ago, and I never did get back to her. And Josey Leigh—I just know I missed sending her a birthday card last year. Well, Lindsay reasoned, friends are forever. Donna and Josey aren’t the type to be angry with me for forgetting one birthday or not returning a few phone calls. Why I’ll bet they’ll be so glad to hear from me… 

It may have seemed like months ago to Lindsay, but it was almost two years ago that her friends stopped calling. They stopped calling because they almost always got her answering machine and after numerous tries, they simply gave up and moved on with their lives. Lindsay can’t see that now, but she will.

She doesn’t know that Donna Bobbs, her best friend for over fifteen years has moved to Ohio, and Josey Leigh is now an attorney with no time for Lindsay and, sadly enough, no interest. And Sinclair, the handsome lad who lived down the block—he’s now married and lives in Hohokus with his wife and three toddlers. Nothing stays the same, not for Lindsay, not for John, not for anybody.

After Lindsay counted up all the friends she was going to call and all the things she was planning to catch up on, she turned to thinking of her father. Poor Dad, she sighed, I have all these friends and he has nothing. I’ve not only been a bad friend, I’ve been a terrible daughter. I should have come home more often, and spent more time with Dad. He’s not getting any younger…

As she pulled onto the New Jersey Turnpike, Lindsay pictured her father rambling around the house all by himself, and she began to sense how lonely he must have been. When she tried to recall the last time she’d been home, it shocked her to realize it had been two years. Two years since she’d visited Medford, or stepped foot in the house she’d grown up in. She recalled the look of her father on that last visit. He’d pretended to be cheerful, even told a few jokes and funny stories, but his laugh wasn’t the same laugh she’d once known. A certain sadness had settled over him, a sadness that made his blue eyes appear grey and his mouth droop at the corners. He hadn’t asked her to move back home, but Lindsay knew it had to be what was in his heart. Why did I not see that, she wondered, why did I not see how much Dad needed me?