Eighty and Out (17 page)

Before I knew it, we were celebrating Lisa’s 18
^th
birthday. It seemed like just yesterday she was a little girl, and Jeannie and I were running with her through the streets of Chicago, trying to escape the riots.

Today, we were headed to the Walnut Room. Just Lisa, Jeannie, and me. We’d taken her once before when she was ten, and when I asked her if she’d like to eat anywhere special for her birthday, she said she wanted to return.

Jeannie’s doorbell wasn’t working so I knocked instead.

“Ouch!” I cried out, surprised by the sharp shooting pain in my knuckle. A moment later Lisa answered.

“Happy Birthday!” I said cheerily, ignoring the discomfort.

“Thanks,” she said, giving me a hug.

Jeannie and I had suggested taking the train downtown, but Lisa claimed to enjoy driving in the city, and since it was her day, I let her drive my car.

Lisa weaved in and out of the congestion with ease, then squeezed the sedan into a spot so small it was hard to believe it could fit.

“How did you do that?” Jeannie asked when we got out.

“Dad taught me.” Lisa grinned.

The relationship Lisa had with Chuck was special. She went out of her way to pay attention when he showed her things like how to change a tire or the basics of hand to hand combat for self-defense, and he went out of his way to appear genuinely interested in accompanying her and Jeannie when they did things like shop for a prom dress and matching shoes.

As the years passed, I was confident Jeannie had made the right decision, however immoral it may have been. And once she had heard Tad married a Chicago socialite and started a family of his own, her inner struggle with guilt finally dissipated.

The waiter handed us the menus. Lisa lifted hers, scanned it and quickly set it down. “We’re supposed to have the pot pie, right?”

“Have whatever you like. Everything is good,” I promised. I’d never ordered anything but the pot pie but knew the rest of the food measured up based on the restaurant’s reputation.

Lisa picked the menu back up and perused its offerings a second time. “I think I’ll stick with pot pie,” she reiterated, then set the menu down again.

I smiled at her. She was so grown up and beautiful, with naturally wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her skin glowed with health, something mine hadn’t done in a while. My eyelids sagged slightly, and my cheeks were a little lower, making me look perpetually tired.

The truth was I did feel tired all the time. I attributed it to getting older.

The waiter returned to take our order, interrupting my thought. When he left, I looked directly at Jeannie. She nodded and I turned to Lisa.

“Jim and I have a special birthday present for you.”

Lisa seemed excited to find out what we had gotten her but looked confused since I wasn’t holding anything.

“We heard you talking about how you missed your friends who had moved to the suburbs and how hard it was to get to see them, so…we’re buying you a car.”

“Oh my God!” Lisa gasped. She practically jumped from her seat. “I don’t know what to say. It’s just so…it’s amazing. Thanks so much! Tell Uncle Jim I said thank you, too.”

The happy look on her face made it worth every penny. Jim and I never managed to have kids of our own. We didn’t adopt, either. Instead we chose to spoil Lisa every chance we got.

“Here’s the plan,” I said. “You and your dad are going to shop for a car together. And once you’ve found one you like that he says is in great condition and is within the price range we’ve discussed, Jim and I will go there and pay for it.” I had wanted to buy Lisa a brand new car, but Jeannie wouldn’t have it, so we agreed on finding one a couple of years old with low miles.

Our food arrived, and after I dug in, I blew on the steamy forkful, remembering my first visit to the restaurant with Bernice. I still had the nightgown she gave me and wore it every year on my wedding anniversary.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeannie asked, noticing the change in my expression.

She was always so good at reading me. “I’m thinking about the first time I ate here with Bernice.”

“Isn’t that your friend from New Mexico?” Lisa asked, placing her napkin in her lap.

“It is. You didn’t get to meet her last time she was here, but she’s coming back soon, and I’m hoping we can all do something fun together.”

Bernice had come to Chicago a few times since her wedding, which I was grateful for since Jim and I never made it to New Mexico. I had hoped he and I would take romantic trips to Europe or somewhere tropical since we could afford it, but he never seemed to be able to break away.

“Didn’t you say they were all coming this time?” Jeannie asked.

“Yeah. Bernice is bringing the whole crew. Alejandro, and her two sons, Jeffrey and Eric.” Bernice had her first child after her business took off. Chicago Dogs was so popular she had one in Taos, several in Albuquerque, and had sold franchises to people in Scottsdale and Tucson, Arizona.

“I can babysit if you want,” Jeannie offered. “That way you two can have a night to yourselves.”

Bernice had told me the boys were a handful, one aged eleven and one nine.

“I’m sure we’ll be taking you up on that offer.”

Jeannie was great with kids, the proof sitting opposite me. I smiled at Lisa. “You’re still going to go to school for that new thing, right?” I asked.

“Computers,” she said. Lisa had said they were the future.

“What exactly will you do with them?”

“I’m going to learn programming.”

“Programming,” I repeated. I had no idea what she meant, but she seemed excited about her chosen profession, which made me happy.

A moment later the waiter came with the check, and Jeannie grabbed it. She insisted on treating since Jim and I were buying her daughter such an expensive gift.

I woke the next day feeling exhausted. And my knuckle still hurt. I opened my eyes and inspected it closer. It was swollen and red, which I thought was odd because all I had done was knock on Jeannie’s front door.

I ignored it, got up and showered, and went on with my day. I had plans to meet Jim for lunch after I scheduled appointments for a few tenants who had issues in need of repair. We liked to get problems taken care of right away, treating the people who rented from us like we would want to be treated, and in return most were kind and paid their rent on time.

The day after that, I woke up feeling like someone had beaten me in my sleep. It reminded me of how I felt the day after I got trampled in the riots. Only now, I had a hard time breathing, and the pain in my knuckle had spread to the surrounding knuckles, and my wrist was swollen.

I stayed in bed the rest of the week. I told Jim I had the flu and hoped I’d start feeling better soon so I could get on with my life. Jim was sweet and doted on me, bringing me chicken soup from the corner restaurant and spending extra time at home. When I hadn’t improved after a few days, he suggested I see a doctor. Not being a fan of physicians, I forced myself out of bed and pretended to be fine.

Jim and I were at my parent’s house the following week for dinner, when my dad asked, “What’s the matter, honey? You look miserable.”

I thought I was doing a good job of hiding how I felt, but my dad was too observant.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just seem… irritable.”

He was right. I was irritable. Something about feeling like crap for two weeks did that to me.

I sighed. “I haven’t been feeling so hot lately. I guess it shows.”

We sat around the table chatting, and as we ate dessert my mom asked me what symptoms I had. I told her while showing her my wrist and hand. She looked alarmed and exchanged a look with my dad but didn’t say anything.

“You’re going to the doctor,” Jim said on the way home. “That’s not a request.”

I felt like a child who had just been scolded. Jim rarely put his foot down, but when he did, it was final.

Dragging my feet, I went to the scheduled appointment. The doctor asked me a bunch of questions, then took my temperature and pulse and listened to my lungs. He pulled out a needle.

“This won’t hurt. We just need to run some blood tests.”

I nodded and turned my head as I felt my skin pinch. When I got home, I had a bruise that seemed to grow larger and uglier by the hour. It hadn’t even gone away by the time I went back the next week to find out the test results.

It wasn’t the flu. It was rheumatoid arthritis. And it wasn’t going to go away.

Jim had been trying to cheer me up for weeks since the doctor gave me the bad news. As we lay in bed one night, he snuggled up to me.

“At least it’s not something deadly, like cancer,” he said in an optimistic tone.

He was right. I wasn’t dying. Just losing my capacity to enjoy life bit by bit, day by day. Something no one could understand unless they’d experienced it. Sadly, it had only been a couple of months, and I’d already had enough.

“And there’s always new medicines,” he added. “They’ll find a cure. You’ll see.”

Jim had been bending over backwards to be as helpful as possible. From opening jars to carrying grocery bags, he was really going out of his way, for which I was grateful. I just didn’t like feeling helpless. I liked to do things for him, to feel needed, not the other way around.

My mom stopped by to visit. She had been trying to baby me whenever she could, too. Today she kept hovering. She watched as I struggled with the can opener.

“You want me to do that?” she asked.

“No,” I snapped, then set the can opener down and let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean that. It’s just lately everyone has been treating me like I’m an invalid, and it’s frustrating.”

Mom came over and put her hand on my shoulder. “No one thinks you’re an invalid, honey. We just want to help.”

A solitary tear escaped my eye. The first one I had cried since learning the news from the doctor. “I know.”

She gave me a big hug. When she let go, I stepped aside and let her open the can. I was embarrassed that a person older than me – my own mother – had to assist me with such a simple task. All of a sudden, I couldn’t wait to go back to the doctor and discuss medications. I had been putting off doing that, hoping if I ignored the situation, it would go away.

Newly motivated, I set up a follow-up appointment with the doctor. He suggested a steroid for the quickest relief, and after taking it, I felt like my old self again. Soon, I was back to checking on tenants, dealing with business paperwork, and cooking and cleaning without anyone’s help.

I got home from the hair salon, and Jim told me Bernice had called. I called her back, figuring she wanted to discuss where to take the kids when she came to visit.

“Change of plans,” she told me. “We aren’t coming to visit now.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“There have been some problems here, and Alejandro thinks it’s best if we stay behind. We had hoped to visit everyone and do some business with our vendor, but it’s just not a good time.”

“Is everything okay with you and Alejandro?”

“Yeah. We’re fine. The issue is with Juan.” Bernice didn’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“Juan was actually thinking of coming to Chicago instead. To meet with the sales rep and do some sightseeing.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“What do you think?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“I… I think that sounds like a great idea. I’d be happy to show him the sights.”

“Thanks, Lou. I really appreciate it. It would only be one day on a weekend. The other day he’s going to be working.”

“No problem,” I said. I hung up the phone, hoping it wouldn’t cause a problem with Jim.

I explained the situation to him. “He doesn’t need a ride from the airport. He just needs someone to take him sightseeing.” Jim looked like he had mixed feelings about it. “You wanna come with us? We could go to the Sears Tower, see all the tourist spots.”

“No. You take him. You’re good at cheering people up,” he said, smiling. “Plus, I don’t even know the guy.”

I barely knew him myself. I was a little nervous about meeting again, wondering what we’d talk about.

A few days later, when I walked into the restaurant where we’d agreed to meet, Juan flashed me a big smile. It was warm and genuine and made me relax instantly.

“Welcome to the big city!” I said.

“Thanks. I’m glad I finally made it here. Took me long enough, huh?”

The hostess seated us, and we sat opposite each other. It was true I didn’t know Juan well, but what I did remember was he had a spirit that was larger than life. That spirit seemed to have faded.

“So how’ve you been?” I asked.

He exhaled loudly. “I’m getting a divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s got to be hard.”

“It is. I never saw it coming.”

The waiter came and took our order. We both got steaks. I ordered a soda and Juan a glass of wine.

“You wanna talk about it?” I asked.

The drinks arrived, and Juan took an ample sip of his wine. “Where to begin? My wife, Carla, had bought a couple of paintings from a local gallery…” He paused. “No. I shouldn’t burden you with my story of woe.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…but it’s fine if you do. Sometimes it’s good to talk about difficult things.”

He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “Okay. But stop me anytime. I don’t want to turn this visit into a counseling session. We’re supposed to be enjoying the city…”

“And we will.” I nodded at him. “Go on.”

“Well, Carla got interested in going to the art showings on Friday nights. There’s a bunch of them scheduled all the time. We went to a few showings together, but it just wasn’t my thing, so I suggested she go with her girlfriends.”

I had a pretty good idea where this was going but didn’t say anything.

“So a little time passed, and I noticed she wasn’t interested in me that way anymore.” Juan averted his eyes. He took another sip of his drink. “Turns out she was screwing around with another guy. Some Dutch artist.”

The food arrived, pausing the conversation right at the “punch line.” After the waiter left, we continued.

“How did you find out?”

Juan cut into his steak. “I had been suspicious because of her actions and some of the things she said. I asked around, talked to a few mutual friends. None of them wanted to directly accuse her of anything, but they had said enough. When it was clear she was having an affair, I decided to follow her one night.”

I chewed my food, my neck muscles tense as I listened.

“She went to a studio on Canyon Road, and after slipping in, closed the door but forgot to lock it. Curious, but filled with dread, I snuck in. There was classical music playing, and as I inched closer, trying to be quiet, I heard heavy breathing. Unable to stop myself, I stepped forward and saw a blonde-haired guy having sex with my wife.”

Juan wiped a tear from his eye. “I stood there listening to her moan and felt a part of my soul die.”

I was speechless. I hadn’t expected him to share in that much detail.

“I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t imagine how terrible he must feel.

“No…I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say so much.”

Our waiter passed and I flagged him down. “We’d like a bottle of wine please. Whatever he was drinking.”

The man nodded and went to fetch the much-needed booze.

Juan shook his head. “I really don’t know why I told you all that. I haven’t told that story to anyone.”

“Maybe you just needed to get it off your chest.”

The waiter arrived with the bottle of wine. He poured us each a glass, and I lifted mine. “You know we’re drinking today, right?”

Juan found a smile. “Right. I can sleep off the hangover on the plane.”

We clinked glasses, then spent the afternoon talking about happier things: the deal he just made to open a Chicago Dogs in California, his two daughters, Monica and Sylvia, whom he clearly adored.

“All I’ve been doing is talking about me all day. How’s life been treating you?” Juan asked.

I thought about it for a while before answering. I wanted to make sure what I said was sincere. “I wanted to have a baby, but it never happened. But I’m okay with that because I have a niece named Lisa who I love very much.”

Juan smiled.

“I was recently diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, and although initially frustrated, I have it under control. I still get tired from time to time, but my husband Jim is always there to help.”

“I’m glad he treats you right,” Juan said, holding my gaze.

“Me, too,” I said, then finished the last sip of my wine.

The waiter came with our check, and Juan paid the bill. We both rose and headed outdoors. It was a warm summer day, perfect for seeing the sights.

“Where to next?” I asked him. “We could go to the Sears Tower, there’s a ton of great museums. It’s your vacation, so I’ll let you decide.”

Juan looked conflicted. “I think I’ll pass on all of the above,” he said. “I’ve already seen everything I came here for.”

He gave me a warm smile. “Take care, Lou. And thanks for cheering me up.”

“Anytime,” I smiled.

Juan waved, then walked away. I watched him until he eventually disappeared into the sea of pedestrians, and I couldn’t deny that there was something between us.

Chemistry.

I prayed he would find happiness with someone else someday.