So Much for My Happy Ending (19 page)

“It's not bad but it's certainly not normal. What about movie stars? Like Julia Roberts, what do you think of her?”

Tad shrugged. “She's okay.”

“Okay isn't great. What about Nicole Kidman?”

“She's a good-looking woman,” he said with little enthusiasm.

“Catherine Zeta-Jones?”

A slow smile crept over Tad's face. “Yeah, she's a…really good actress.”

I laughed. “Right, and
Playboy
has got some really good articles.” I tapped my fingers to the beat of the big-band music coming from the dance floor. “For me, it's Brad Pitt.”

Tad nodded solemnly. “Listen, if you ever have a one-night stand with Brad Pitt I'll understand. No one else, just Brad.”

I pressed my hand against my heart. “That is so sweet. And I'll let you mess around with Catherine. We just won't tell Angelina or Michael about it. They're probably not as mature about these things as we are.”

Tad laughed and reached out to play with one of my unruly locks. “I'd pick you over Catherine any day of the week.” He pulled me forward and pressed his lips against mine before adding, “However, if you ever want to have a threesome—”

I swatted him playfully. “Not gonna happen.” My eyes traveled to the dance floor where a woman in her forties with bright red highlights was kicking up her heels with a guy who looked to be barely old enough to qualify for military service. “You know, it's been a while since I've talked to my mother.”

“I thought that's what you wanted.”

There was something in his tone that made me quickly bring my eyes back to him. “It was. Every week or so she calls my department and my cell and I keep screening the calls and deleting the messages. Eventually I'm going to have to make peace, and since I have Sunday off I was thinking maybe we could use the time to take a drive down to Santa Cruz.”

“I don't think it's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not? She refused to come to our wedding! You don't need to forgive her for that. She doesn't deserve it.”

Hello? At what point had Tad adopted this viewpoint? “She and Bobe are the only family I have,” I said carefully. “And let's face it, Bobe won't be around forever.”

Tad put his glass down on the bar with enough force to cause the alcohol to spill over the sides. “The only family you have? What the hell am I?”

“Wait, that's not what I meant.”

“We're husband and wife, April. We're supposed to be there for each other 'til the end. Partners. And now you sit there and you tell me that without your mother and grandmother you would be alone?” Tad slammed the rest of his drink and glared at his empty glass.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”

For a moment Tad looked pacified. He reached over and patted my hand as if to let me know that I was forgiven. Something about the gesture sparked a fire inside me.

I pulled my hand away and sat up a little straighter. “Actually, Tad, I'm not sorry. I didn't do anything wrong.”

Tad stared at me with something that looked like shock.

I swallowed. I hadn't challenged Tad on anything since the miscarriage, but I had this gut feeling that I couldn't allow him to make this decision. “I want to see my mother.” I enunciated each word carefully, as if our communication problem was due to a language barrier rather than some emotional dynamic. “She and Bobe are my only blood relatives. That's all I said and that's all I meant. I'm sorry if you misinterpreted my remarks, but I really don't think that's my fault.”

Tad couldn't have looked more stricken if I had slapped him across the face. He opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to talk but the words refused to come.

I brought my drink to my lips in order to hide my smile.

“I…I didn't…” Tad stammered. “Maybe my anger was a bit misdirected.”

I blinked in surprise. That may very well have been the closest thing to an apology that I had ever heard Tad utter.

“I just don't want to see you get hurt,” he continued at a pace that indicated that his words were being carefully selected.

“Why would I get hurt?”

“Because that's all your mother does, she just hurts you over and over.”

I winced at the truth of his statement.

“You've been forgiving her all your life.” Tad was now speaking with more confidence, which was ironic because his comments were eating away at mine. “You forgave her for not being there for you as a kid. You forgave her for being a bad role model and now you want to forgive her for not coming to our wedding. When does it stop, April?”

I felt my back curve into a hunchbacklike position. “She's my mom,” I said feebly.

“Genetically that's true, but when has she ever been a mom in the more real sense?”

I couldn't answer the question. I didn't want to mentally recount all the times my mother had failed me just so that I might stumble across the one or two memories of times when she hadn't.

“Don't put yourself through it, April.” Tad looked directly into my eyes and his expression was filled with so much love that I wanted to just melt into his arms. “You don't need her. You will never have to beg anyone to love and care for you again. You will always have those things in me.”

I let my head fall forward onto his shoulder. I did have him, and maybe that really was enough.

T
ad was gone by the time I woke up the next morning. I didn't mind; I actually relished having a few moments to myself. I stretched my arms over my head and squinted at the clock: 9:00 a.m. God, I couldn't remember the last time I had been able to sleep in that late. I rolled over onto my stomach and thought about the day ahead. The only thing I had planned was Jeremiah's band practice at one.

I crawled out of bed and threw on a silk Calvin Klein robe that Tad had recently bought me. It was a silly thing to buy a woman who got a thirty-three percent discount at a lingerie department, but the sentiment behind the gesture was nice. I slid my feet into some fuzzy slippers and followed the smell of coffee. Tad had made sure there was enough left in the pot for me to have at least two cups.

The phone rang as I was taking my first sip. I sighed and put my coffee down. Probably Tad; he often called me when I didn't wake in time to say goodbye.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I'm calling for April Silverperson or Tad Showers.”

I rolled my eyes, all telemarketers should be sent to some remote island that was equipped with absolutely no long distance phone service. “This is April.”

“Ms. Silverperson this is Will, I'm calling from Chase Manhattan Bank in regard to your Visa bill.”

“My bill?” I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. I didn't have a card with Chase.

“Yes, ma'am, your payment is now two months late. In order to avoid additional late fees you can make a payment right now over the phone.”

“I'm sorry, but there has to be some mistake. I don't have a credit card with you.”

“Ma'am, we have records of you opening an account with us five months ago.”

“I've never opened up an account with Chase.”

“I'm looking at our records here and it looks like everything's in order. We've been sending the bills to P.O. Box 12…”

“That's not my address—I don't even have a P.O. Box. Oh my God, someone's gotten hold of my social security number!” I started pacing the floor.

There was an uncomfortable pause before the man responded. “Our records show that you opened the account last November and added Tad Showers to the account the following month. Is this information inaccurate?”

“Yes, it's inaccurate! How much has it been run up to?”

“The balance is now eleven thousand twenty-three dollars and fifty-one cents.”

“Oh my God.” My hand flew up to my forehead.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but could you please hold on a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” I tugged at the lapels of my robe. If someone had gotten my social security number, there could be dozens of cards under my name being maxed out all over the country. I had heard stories of things like this happening to people but it never occurred to me that it could happen to me.

“Ma'am, are you still there?”

“Yes, I'm here.” I walked out into the living room as if movement could somehow alleviate my anxiety.

“Okay, I'm looking at your list of charges and I'm going to read a few off to you, starting from when the card was first opened.”

“All right, I'm listening.”

“There was a two-thousand-dollar charge made at the Ritz-Carlton. There was an eight-hundred-dollar charge made to a place called Wedding Limos. There is a six-hundred-dollar charge to Mondavi Vineyards, and three cash-advance checks written to Smith Barney, one for $2,300, another for $4,897 and one for $5,689. The most recent charge was for six hundred dollars to Sibella Brandeis art studio.”

I stared up at the painting of me and Bobe.

“Ma'am? Are you there?”

“I think I need to call you back.”

“Yeah, okay.” The man sounded genuinely sorry for me. He rattled off a number and I used a pen left on the coffee table to scribble it onto the back of a magazine. I might have written a number or two incorrectly; it was hard to see through all the rage.

I promised to call back and then clicked off the phone. Five months. Before we were even married. I had to talk to Tad. Now.

 

Forty minutes later I was in the elevator that went up to Tad's office space. I had thrown on a pair of jeans and a fitted cotton long-sleeve tee that had been washed and dried a few too many times. My hair was a mess and my makeup nonexistent. For once I really didn't care what I looked like. The elevator made a little
ding
noise to indicate that it had reached the requested floor. I marched out before the doors had a chance to fully open and stormed past the desks of the sales reps, who watched me curiously from their cubicles. I went to the door with Tad's name on it and pounded on it so hard that my fist stung from the impact. But I didn't care. My pain would be insignificant compared to the suffering I was about to inflict.

Tad opened the door. His face was flushed and his jaw jutted forward. But when he saw it was me the anger in his face transformed into confusion and then wariness. “April, is everything all right?”

“No.”

Tad glanced nervously at the people sitting at their desks behind me and then quickly ushered me in. He closed the door behind me before using it to lean on as he folded his arms across his chest. He didn't say anything nor did he meet my eyes.

“I got a call from Chase this morning.”

“Chase.” He drew the word out so that the
s
sounded like the hissing of a snake.

“How could you? How could you forge my name on a credit card? And before we were even married, Tad! My God, did it ever occur to you that you were committing a felony?”

“Keep your Goddamn voice down.”

“Excuse me? EXCUSE ME!” I was vaguely aware of being on the verge of hysteria and I didn't care. “You told me that you were putting all the wedding charges on your card and that you were paying it off monthly! But you haven't been paying it at all, and it wasn't even your card! What did you do, go through my mail and forge my name on one of those preapproved deals? Or did you actually go out of your way to get an application? Hmm? Come on, Tad, tell me all the dirty details. How hard was it to rip off your wife?”

“April, this is not the time or the place—”

“Nu-uh, no way. You don't get to control this argument. You charged that painting of me and my grandmother to an illegal account in my name! Oh my God, what kind of person does something like that?”

“I was paying the bills, April.” The cool detachment in his voice made me want to walk over and throttle him. “I fell behind this month, that's all. I was going to pay it—”

“You fell behind for two months, but that's not the fucking point! You lied to me, you betrayed me and you fucking stole from me!”

He reached over and grabbed my arm, yanking me forward so that we were only inches apart. “I have been paying the bills. Every cent was going to be paid off.”

I looked down to where his hand was cutting off the circulation in my arm. I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Get your hands off me right now.” I heard myself speak the words with a menacing force that was foreign to me. Tad removed his hand.

I stood there for a moment not moving my arm or any other part of my body. Would he dare grab me again? And then I realized…I wanted him to. I wanted an excuse to punch the shit out of him. I took a quick breath in and stepped back. I walked around him and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the phone book that he always kept there. I flipped through the Yellow Pages, ignoring Tad's inquisitive stare. Finally I found what I was looking for and dialed the number on the page and switched on the speakerphone.

“Hi,” said the recorded voice on the other end of the line. “You've reached marriage and family therapist Harry Klein. I cannot take your call right now but if you leave your name and number I will get back to you shortly.”

“Hello, Mr. Klein, my name is April Silverperson.” I glared at Tad, who was beginning to look a little lost. “My husband and I need to make an appointment with you before I kill him.” I proceeded to leave my home, work and cell-phone numbers before hanging up.

“I was going to pay it off,” Tad whispered, although the statement didn't seem to be directed at me as much as to himself.

I clenched and unclenched my hands in frustration. “It doesn't matter what you—”

“It's Sean and Eric's fault.”

“Sean and Eric? What could they possibly have to do with this?”

“They were supposed to approve my business plan. I showed them the plan. It's perfect. They're ruining everything. EVERYTHING!” He raised his fist and plummeted it into the wall, leaving a hole where he had made impact. He pulled his hand back and shook it slightly. I could see drops of blood clinging to his knuckles. My hand flew to my mouth to keep myself from screaming or throwing up.

“I'm going to get them for this. I'm going to make them pay.” He turned in my direction, but if he saw me he made no indication of it.

“Sean's fighting to get joint custody of his two-year-old son.” With each syllable his tone became more sinister. “I wonder how he would like it if I called his ex-wife and told her about the seventeen-year-old boy he fucked. I bet he'd never be able to get within twenty feet of his son again.”

I swallowed and moved carefully toward the door. It was time for me to go. Tad started as if he had suddenly remembered that I was there. I felt his eyes follow me as I walked out of his office and rushed to the elevator.

I didn't go home after that. Instead, I drove to Twin Peaks. I got outside and walked right to the point where the hill makes its dramatic slope downward and looked out at the city spread below me. I needed this, to feel separated from all of it. I needed the perspective.

I had been so angry about the credit card that I hadn't stopped to think about how weird it was. It wasn't a normal kind of betrayal.

I sighed and rubbed my arms to help warm myself. Tad had taken me up here on our fourth date. He had wrapped his arms around me and told me that we were the perfect fit. I had just smiled; I hadn't asked him to explain why he thought so; I understood. Once upon a time I had understood Tad. Now I didn't understand anything.

I pushed aside my hair that the wind was whipping into my face. His reaction to being confronted…My God, what had that been about? For that matter, what had
my
reaction been about? It had been the first time in my life that I had felt completely capable of violence. Never mind the fact that he was a lot bigger and stronger than me. Never mind that I still loved him. None of that had factored into my thinking because I hadn't
been
thinking. I had just been feeling. Feeling the bloodlust.

“Jesus, what if I really am a monster?” I said aloud. I looked around to make sure that none of the tourists had seen me talking to myself, but there weren't any standing close enough to notice, and even if they had, they probably would have just taken a picture. “And here's the schizophrenic woman we saw on the top of Twin Peaks, remember her, Marge?”

I went over to an empty bench and sat with my back against a plaque that sang the praises of a deceased husband and father. I did love Tad. He could be so purely wonderful. Like when I had found out that I was going to miscarry…How would I have gotten through that without him? So how could someone be so incredible one moment and then turn around and forge my name on a credit card the next? And why? I looked up to see a hawk gliding over the mountain, circling some unsuspecting prey. Was there more that I didn't know?

I checked the time on my watch. I was already fifteen minutes late to meet Allie. The guitarist at whose home the band was practicing lived in the Mission District, so even if I left immediately I would be forty minutes late. I bit down on my lip. The last thing I wanted to do was hang out with a rock band. But then again maybe there was another reason I should go.

I got back in the car and drove to the Mission. It took me a little while to locate the address. I parked just a few doors down and took the time to put my Club in place before following the beat of the drums to the correct garage. The garage door was closed but I found a little side door that was unlocked. Judging from the noise level, I knew knocking would be a useless endeavor. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

At first no one noticed me. Allie's back was to me. She was lying on her side on top of some tattered carpet strips spread across the floor. She had her head propped up with one hand and was fingering the edges of a large red plastic cup with her other. The band was busy jamming away. Jeremiah was on the guitar. He was the first to see me. He didn't say anything or let on to the others that I was there. He just locked eyes with me and took a step forward. It may have been my imagination but he seemed to have gotten better since the last time I heard him play. A slow smile crept over his rather generous mouth and his eyes slanted dangerously. I watched as his fingers worked the guitar strings as if they had a mind of their own. His body was rocking back and forth and I could tell that he was in a different place. Tad had been in a “different place” when I had seen him last, too, but I actually understood Jeremiah's journey. He could take me along if I just gave in to it. I closed my eyes and let the music enter me. I felt myself sway slightly and my hips began to rock to the bass pounding in the background.