Rules Get Broken (39 page)

I stretched out an arm, dropped a heavy hand on the off button and tried to summon the energy to get out of bed. I had taken Nancy back to her apartment after Jennie’s party, and I hadn’t gotten home until two-thirty. Now I was faced with the unwelcome prospect of getting through the day on barely four and a half hours of sleep.

I rolled over onto my back and saw sunlight streaming in around the edges of the window shades. I sighed. At least the day was sunny. I lay on my back for another minute, then threw back the sheet and the coverlet. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The alarm clock now showed five minutes after seven. I sat on the edge of the bed and reflected for a moment how time just keeps moving. We may not be ready to take advantage of it and put it to use, but it doesn’t care. It just keeps moving and expects us to either fall in step with it or let it go on without us. Until it disappears.

On that cheery note, I put on my bathrobe and walked across the upstairs landing to the bathroom. I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth and combed my hair, and then went back to my bedroom to get dressed. I had a meeting at nine-thirty with our advertising agency, so I decided to wear one of my better suits, a gray pinstripe, with a light blue shirt and maroon tie. I put on some cologne, filled my pockets with my handkerchief, comb, wallet, keys, pen and pencil, put my jacket over my arm and opened my bedroom door. I was as ready as I could be to face the coming day.

As I came out of my bedroom, I was suddenly aware of someone else on the landing. With a start, I realized Maureen Reilly was standing at the top of the steps next to the railing, partially blocking access to the stairs, arms folded across her chest.

“Whoa. You scared me for a minute,” I said, exhaling deeply. “I didn’t expect to see you. Good morning.”

For a second she said nothing. Then she took two steps forward, bringing her to within two feet of me. Sensing something was wrong, I stopped and waited for her to speak.

“I want to talk to you,” she hissed in a loud whisper.

I was taken aback both by the tone of her voice and by her almost threatening body language.

“Sure,” I replied, “but do we have to talk here, or can we talk downstairs while I grab a cup of coffee?”

“I want to talk to you here because I don’t want Jennie or John to hear what I have to say.”

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my irritation from showing. “Okay. We’ll talk here. What’s up?”

Her eyes bore into mine, and her mouth worked silently as she prepared to speak. Finally words came. “Don’t you ever, ever, bring that woman into my daughter’s house again,” she said. “Do you hear me?”

“What are you talking about?” I stammered.

“You know what I’m talking about,” she spat. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. I don’t care what you do with that woman anywhere else, but you will not bring her into my daughter’s house ever again. Do you understand me?”

I stood perfectly still and stared at her, trying to absorb what she had just said. But as I did, I felt a darkness come over me, almost as if someone were pouring thick black oil over my head. And as the darkness enveloped me, I began to think the most frightening thoughts I had ever thought in my life. I found myself literally taking the physical measure of Maureen Reilly, realizing as if for the first time how small and frail she was, knowing that in an instant I could drop my jacket to the floor, grab her by the neck with both hands, lift her over the railing and drop her to the floor below. I found myself measuring the distance between her and me, calculating how quickly and from what direction I would have to strike in order to ensure that I could get to her in one sweeping motion before she could avoid me.

Then as quickly as the darkness had appeared, it began to recede, leaving me seething with rage, gulping for air. “Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that?” I screamed when I was finally able to speak.

My response had no effect on her. She stood where she was, immobile, eyes blazing with hatred.

“Let me tell you something, Maureen,” I continued, taking a half step towards her, shaking uncontrollably. “I love ‘that woman,’ as you call her, and I’ll bring her to my house—note I said
my
house—any goddamn time I please. And let me tell you something else while I’m at it. I loved Peg more than anything else in this world, and I respected her in every way I could while she was alive. But she’s dead, and there’s nothing you or I can do about that other than get over it as best we can and move on. Oh, one more thing. For the record, this house used to be our house. Peg’s and mine. Not just Peg’s. But now…it’s mine. Just mine. Do you understand that?”

I stepped around her and went down the stairs two at a time, leaving her on the landing, ignorant of how close she had come to violence.

I walked into the kitchen from the center hall and found Loretta standing between Jennie and John, Jennie at the dinette table, John in his high chair. She had a hand on each of their heads, smoothing their hair, calming their fear, and she was facing me, prepared, it seemed, to protect her little charges from their father if necessary. It was obvious they had heard everything.

I walked over to Jennie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then I turned to John, who was looking up at me wide-eyed, mouth open, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“Good-bye, guys,” I said in a voice hoarse from shouting and from anger. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Neither child made a sound.

I looked at Loretta. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. She didn’t reply.

I turned away from the three of them and went out the back door.

I was unable to think clearly for the first twenty minutes of my drive to the office, but as my head cleared, I remembered the thought I had had one winter night almost six months ago. About the swimmer who looks back at the shore he’s left behind and is surprised and frightened to see how far away it is.

My relationship with my parents had become painfully strained because of my relationship with Nancy, and except for Dave, all of my friends were gone. And now any connection with Peg’s mother had been irreparably damaged, if not destroyed.

The shore was very far away indeed, I realized sadly.

The house was empty and quiet Sunday afternoon, November 1st, the children still with my parents and Loretta not yet back from her day off in Brooklyn. I had been trying to reach Nancy all day. I dialed her number for what must have been the tenth time and decided to count how many times her phone rang. On the twenty-first ring, I gave up. I looked at the clock. It was five after five.

I’d started calling her shortly after nine, well before she would have been out doing her errands, and I hadn’t gotten an answer then. I knew she wasn’t visiting her parents because her car wasn’t in their driveway or in front of their house, and she would have let me know if she were coming to Huntington. So I knew some of the places she wasn’t, but I didn’t know where she was. All I knew for certain was either she wasn’t home or she wasn’t answering her phone.

I sat at my desk and stared at the neatly piled, squared stacks of unopened mail, bills waiting to be paid and paid bills waiting to be filed. I picked up an envelope with a return address I didn’t recognize. I found my letter opener, partially covered by the pile of unopened mail, and slid it under the flap. I had the envelope half open before I realized I didn’t care what was inside. All I cared about was being able to talk to Nancy. I put the half-opened envelope back on its pile, squared it with the others and looked at the clock again. It was seven after five.

This is ridiculous
, I thought, exasperated.
I can’t be obsessive like this. If I reach her, I reach her. If I don’t, I don’t. That’s all there is to it
.

I leaned back in my chair and looked out the window into the back yard. Although it was almost dark, the sky at the horizon still glowed a brilliant orange and was streaked with dark bands of cloud, precursors to the rain predicted for Monday. Most of the leaves were off the trees, and they now covered the lawn and flowerbeds like a thick brown blanket. The yard looked abandoned and uninviting, and the sight of the picnic table and benches and lawn chairs all covered with leaves and pine needles made me feel lonelier than I already was.

I turned away from the window. In spite of my words of self-encouragement a few seconds ago, I was uneasy. I had the same feeling I always had at night when I was alone, but worse this afternoon because I couldn’t reach Nancy, and because I thought I might know why.

“I know what I’ll do,” I said out loud. “I’ll take a shower, get dressed and give Nancy one more call. Then, if I still can’t reach her, I’ll drive over to her apartment and make sure she’s all right.”

I pushed back my chair and went upstairs. By ten minutes of six I was back at my desk. I sat down and dialed Nancy’s number. The uneasiness I’d felt earlier had by now turned into a sharp sense of urgency. She had to answer the phone this time. She had to.

Her phone rang. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten times. I couldn’t hang up. She would answer. I knew she would. But her phone kept ringing. Twelve times. Fifteen times. And then, Nancy’s voice.

“Hello?”

“My God,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day. I thought maybe something happened to you. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.”

“Where were you?”

“Here.”

“In your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone then? I’ve been worried sick.”

I waited a moment for a response before repeating my question. “Why didn’t you answer the phone, Nan? You must’ve known it was me calling.”

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard her exhale sharply into the receiver. “I didn’t answer the phone because I knew it was you, and I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Why? What have I done?”

“Oh God, John. How can you ask me that after last night?”

“Look, I know you were upset, and I don’t blame you, but why wouldn’t you want to talk to me?”

“The truth is, John, I’m not even sure I ever want to see you again.”

I closed my eyes as a wave of fear started to roll over me. “Was last night that terrible?” I asked.

“Yes, it was.”

I tried not to let the fear overtake me, but my eyes began to flood with tears.

“I can’t take any more hurt, John. I’ve done my best to listen to you, to console you, to be there for you. I’ve done everything I know how to do to make you happy. To give you your life back. To make you love me enough to be happy again. But I’ve failed. Last night proved that to me. And I can’t live with that kind of failure. If I do, it’ll destroy me.”

“What are you saying? That we’re through? That it’s over between us?”

Now Nancy was crying too. “I don’t know. What I do know is I’ve spent more than a year of my life with you. But last night, for the first time, I felt like maybe all I’ve done is waste a year of my life with you.”

“How can you say that?”

“John, listen to me. Last night was supposed to be a fun evening. We were going to take the kids out trick-or-treating, drop them off at your parents’ and then go out for dinner. Remember? But when I get to your house—at five o’clock just like we planned, so we can take Jennie and John out before it gets too late—who’s already there? Your parents. I tried not to get upset—even though you and I were going to take the kids out alone—because I know how much your folks love the kids, but then I sit in the kitchen like a bump on a log while your mother gets Jennie and John into their Halloween costumes. She doesn’t ask me to help. In fact, in some way I can’t put my finger on, she makes it clear to me she wants to dress the kids herself. So I sit there while you and your father talk about God knows what. Watching. Waiting. Wishing I could sink into a crack in the floor instead of feeling as out of place as I did. Hold on. I need a Kleenex.”

I could hear her blowing her nose. “You still there?” she asked a moment later.

“I’m still here.”

“Then we go out trick-or-treating. The six of us. You hold Jennie’s hand. Your mother and father hold John’s hands. And I follow from behind. John, you have no idea how left out that made me feel.”

“Nan, I’m sorry. I…”

“Wait. I’m not to the worst part yet. Not even close. So I trundle along behind the five of you, and then we come back to the house. Your folks haven’t talked to me since I arrived, so I think maybe they’ll stay for a few minutes. But no. They take the kids, still in their Halloween costumes, and they head for home. I tell myself, well, that makes sense, I guess. It’s late, the kids haven’t had dinner, and your folks want to get them home before they get too hungry or cranky.

“Now you and I are alone. Trick-or-treating was disappointing, but we still have the rest of the evening to look forward to. I go to the bathroom, and when I come out, what do I see? I see you, sitting at the dinette table, your head in your hands. Crying. I ask what’s the matter, and you say you’re crying because Peg wasn’t there to see how cute the kids looked in their costumes. And then, then…” Nancy’s words were cut off by a sob. “Then you tell me how messed up your life is, and how you don’t know where to turn.

“My God, John. Do you realize how that makes me feel? After I’ve been there for you whenever you needed me for the last fourteen months? I’ve been ‘where you turn.’ I’ve been the person you’ve turned to. I never expected you to forget Peg. I never expected you to stop loving her. But I did expect that one day I’d be able to make your life good again. I did expect that one day, one day, you’d love me enough to feel good about being alive. But you don’t love me that much. That’s why I left last night. And that’s why I say I’ve failed. So yeah, I’m through. Through with you. Through with your pain. If I haven’t been able to make a difference in your life after all these months, after all we’ve done together, then I’ll never be able to. Never. And if I can’t make a difference in your life, then I’m wasting my time and my life. And I won’t do that.”

I knew I had to say something, but my mind wouldn’t go into gear. I couldn’t formulate words, let alone thoughts. Yet I knew I had to, or Nancy would hang up, and I would lose her forever.