Ken sold insurance, but wasn’t very good
at it. He wasn’t very good at anything,
really, from washing dishes on up. But I
meant it when I recited those vows, so this
was just something to accept, like the
humidity. However, Ken grew worried about the other men, the ones who’d been
there before. Prior to the wedding, it didn’t
seem to bother him, not being the first.
Afterward, he asked again and again for
details””what, exactly, I’d done with
whom, and how many times. What is it about guys? I have never understood their
fascination with that. I told Ken what he
wanted to hear, of course, like I’d been
crazy ever to look at anyone but him. But
that didn’t help. “Tell me the truth,” he
demanded bitterly. “You liked every bit of it, didn’t you?” What could I do? Nobody can change the past.
Was I supposed to make it up to Ken in some
other way? So Ken gradually lost interest in me, and that
was fine. Fortunately, there were no kids. Oh, where was my sweetie now? Even
Momma asked about him. If he picked this
time to show up, maybe things could work
out between us. Now we were adults. But I knew better than to expect another
chance at that. Sometimes, however, I did
imagine reliving those days in high school. It
seemed we must have romped together like
puppies, just as innocent as you please.
Maybe innocent isn’t the right word. Still, desire had not been the thing that drove me
then. It was love. Being close just felt right,
even though it was a sin. I quit worrying about the sin part. What we
did never felt wrong, and I never regretted
it, even when I was apologizing to Ken. But if
I could go back, and do it all over? I would
keep my legs together. Because that way, I
could have remained his girl, with both families’ blessings, until the time was right
to marry. Before I knew it, I found myself with Jack, a
guitar player who smoked weed and who
imagined that conventions such as holding a
steady job applied only to lesser individuals.
Jack stuck around, enjoying a home base in
which he could write songs and jam with his friends. His music wasn’t bad, maybe
better than the stuff we listened to in the old
days. I liked hearing a piece take shape,
from that first riff through to the finished
product. But I was never really a part of
what he was into. Just an observer. Jack gave me my three children. Then, bored
with babies, he took off. Those kids became my life. Faye, the feisty
one. With her, the “terrible twos” lasted
till she was twenty. Sally, the party girl, so
much like the way I used to be, always
flinging herself into fun and good times. And
Jeff, my handsome, wonderful, thoughtful son Jeff. Michael came along””so tall, the tallest
man I’d ever been with, but gentle, kind,
accepting. He liked my kids and they liked
him just fine. And he was a bank manager,
which meant security. “You’d better grab this one,” Momma
warned. “You screwed up a lot of times,
girl. Do something smart for a change.” So I did. I married Michael and our years
together rolled by. Five. Ten the first time
I’d made it to two digits with anyone.
Fifteen. Twenty. Can you believe it, Momma?
Two decades with the same man. “You think you’ve accomplished
something, try being married just one day to
Bernie,” Momma said, drawing hard on a
cigarette. Having emerged from the Bad, I supposed I
could count on smooth sailing from here on
in. But I hadn’t yet encountered the Ugly.
Worse than ugly””unspeakable. One
night, as Jeff was locking up the Outback
Steakhouse that he managed, a stranger shot him five times and left him to bleed to
death on the pavement. It wasn’t a
robbery. It wasn’t anybody with a grudge
against him. It just happened. A pointless,
random act. That’s when I stopped talking for a while.
For the longest time, Michael could get only a
pitiful croak in response to anything he said
to me. Let’s go to Myrtle Beach. Let’s
take a drive through the mountains. Let me
treat you to a makeover. No. Not now. No. Thanks. Faye and Sally came over every day,
bringing their children: Millie, Robin, Justin,
Alicia. The house became noisy, and
gradually I found my way back by watching
the little ones horsing around. Faye’s
pregnant again. “There’s strength in numbers,” she says. “We’re gonna fill
the world with your grandchildren, Ma!” She’s certainly making good-looking
children. I have to allow that. I don’t
believe I have ever seen anything so
beautiful. Just look at these pictures of them. This is how I got to be where I am tonight.
Which isn’t such a bad place. When I hear
my husband’s heavy tread on the stairs, I
realize his footsteps might very well sound
the same now. It could have been him
coming up to me. And here’s a thought. If it were, things probably wouldn’t be any
better than they are.
The end.......
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