But when Marty got home, and went into the kitchen of her darkened house, she saw that although she’d moved down the hall, Joe had left a night-light on for her in the kitchen.
Even though she’d have to get Jason to her mom’s in the morning and get to the shop by nine, she was a long way from sleep. All alone, the tears finally came. Beth was the one they’d all envied, all secretly wanted to be. How can a woman so young and vital, so beautiful and brilliant, be stricken by a thing like this? A thing that could kill her after punishing her so much? And if the disease didn’t beat her down, the treatment was harrowing. It was so wrong!
They’d talked for a long time about how people died young all the time. They were stacked up on U.S. freeways to the tune of almost fifty-thousand a year, in which case no one had time to get their heads wrapped around the passing, the loss. They couldn’t clean out their files or straighten the underwear drawers and get rid of any nasty undies with stains; they couldn’t decide what their survivors should do with their things. The only thing different about this was time, and Beth said that time, in its own perverse way, was worth something whether you were twenty-nine or ninety-nine. But that had done nothing to soothe Marty. The idea that the one of their clique who’d really made good could be swiped away devastated her.
There hadn’t been any alcohol at Beth’s. She wasn’t drinking with her meds and chemo; she was focused on keeping her body as strong as possible. And if Beth wasn’t drinking, none of them were. They had a round of orange juice instead. But, she’d said, if there’s ever a wake, I want everyone to get drunk and obnoxious!
Marty got up in the high cupboard and dug out the good bottle of Grand Marnier, tears spilling down her cheeks. Now was as good a time as any to get a little drunk and sloppy. This is what it’ll be like when I have major life hurdles to get through—alone in a dimly lit kitchen, figuring it out over a solitary drink. But then, how would that be any different than it had been since she got married? Joe never noticed if she was mad or sad or—
“Just getting in?”
She looked up when she heard his voice. He stood in the entry to the family room, looking across at her. Even sheathed in the darkness, she could see he wore the nasty, smelly gym shorts. He took a couple of steps toward her and revealed his heavy growth of whiskers.
“Yeah,” she said, sniffing back a tear. “Go back to bed.”
He came toward the kitchen and stood across the island from her. “You crying?” he asked.
She wiped at her tears and took a sip from her glass. “I’m fine. Just go back to bed, Joe. We don’t have anything to say to each other right now. It’s late. I’m tired.”
“Tired and screwed up about something,” he said, and not gently. “Maybe you weren’t out with the girls, maybe you got something going on the side, huh?”
“I was at Beth’s,” she said hotly, loudly. “Her cancer’s back. She had her second breast removed and now she has nothing, except maybe a shot at living till she’s thirty-five. And, yeah, I’m a little screwed up about it. Now just leave me alone!”
“Aw, Marty,” he said, reaching toward her and then stopping himself before he actually touched her. “Aw, jeez.”
Her chin dropped and she just looked into the glass, silent but for the barely audible sobs that shook her shoulders. Then she lifted her glass, took a calming swallow. Why wouldn’t he just go?
“Marty, come on, I’d like to do something to help you through this.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Joe. We hardly even live together anymore.”
“Babe, I’ve been thinking… If you just tell me what you want…”
“You’re too late, Joe,” she said. “I’ve been telling you for a long time what I want, and I’m sorry, but now it’s just too late. There isn’t anything you can do to make up for at least three years of not hearing a word I’ve said. Go on, get your beauty sleep. I’ll be going to bed soon myself and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That why you’re crying? Beth?”
She laughed humorlessly. “Yes, Joe,” she said patiently. What an idiot, that he would even have to ask. That’s how unconnected they were. “She’s one of my best friends and this is the second time in five years. That’s why I’m crying. I can’t stand the thought her life might be in danger from this. She’s so brilliant, so perfect, so young.”
“Yeah,” he said, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s awful. I’m sorry, Marty. Really sorry.” He took a breath. “Listen, Marty, tell me something I can do.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” she said. “Nothing I can do.”
“Tell me one thing I can do to make you feel better. Anything.”
“Forget it. I’m all done counting on you.”
“I’ve been stupid, I see that. I guess I wasn’t taking this seriously, but you have my attention. Tell me something. Please.”
“I want you to help around the house,” she said tiredly, feeling sucked in by the question, like winning would make a difference.
“Marty, I have been,” he said. “Every time you bitched I tried harder. I spent every waking minute on the yard, the cars, the house, the boat and RV, the—”
It pushed her buttons. “Joe, are you brain dead?!” she nearly yelled. “I want you to pick up your own shit! Your dishes and the mess you make in the house all day when you’re home! I want you to hang your towel and not leave it in a wet heap on the floor! Put your nasty underwear in the hamper instead of leaving it open-faced on the floor for me to pick up and wash! I want you to help with the dishes and wipe your spit off the bathroom mirror and your hair out of the shower and off the bathroom floor! What in the holy hell is the matter with you?”
The look on his face was priceless. He was in shock. It took him a moment to respond. “You want me to work inside the house?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” she muttered, looking away and taking a sip of her drink.
“Inside the house?” he repeated.
She looked at him levelly. “You cannot be this stupid….”
He swallowed, shook his head. “I bet I can be,” he said. “Baby, every time you got on your tangent, I went at that yard and garage harder. I thought we had a division—I thought all married couples did. My mom and dad do—they each have a territory to take care of. Shit, baby, I planted ten new trees in the past two years, hoping you’d notice I was trying my best. I paid the bills, made investments for our future, painted the house, built the patio cover and brick grill, poured the concrete myself, laid brick down the front walk to the street…. I worked like a bull all day, every day.”
She shook her head as she looked at the positively earnest expression on his face. “Joe, how would you like it if I took my supper dishes, wet towel and dirty clothes out to the boat and just scattered them around there for you to clean up? Maybe I could brush my teeth in the front seat of your car and spit on the windshield.”
“But why would you—”
“This house—it’s my yard and garage. I leave it perfect and when I come home it’s like some filthy vagrant broke in and destroyed the place—and is still here, lying on the couch. Every day, you turn it into a shit hole! You leave your yard and garage spotless and I don’t do one thing to upset the immaculate appearance of it all. But, besides smelling you at the dinner table and in bed after you spend all day digging in compost, what’s it do to help me? What about this don’t you get? How totally stupid are you? Really?”
After a moment of silence, he said, “Whew. I don’t think I got that….”
“See? It’s hopeless!”
“Why’d you marry me if I’m such a loser?” he asked. “I’ve never been good at housework, you knew that. You even complained about it, but you still—”
“I married you because you cared! You used to try! If I said, ‘Joe, bring your dishes to the kitchen and rinse them off,’ you did it. If I said, ‘Joe, wipe all your black curlies off the bathroom floor,’ you got right on it
, because you wanted me to spend the night and shower in that bathroom! And you never, never tried to seduce me smelling like sweat and compost!”
“Okay, wait a second. Give me something I can do right now to make you happy. Anything. Because I’ll do—”
“Joe, you’re not listening again! I’m not getting in your bed. I don’t care what you fucking do—I’m through begging. I have something else a little upsetting to worry about right now than whether you can finally step up to the plate and be a partner!”
“Partner…” he mumbled. “Partner,” he repeated, as if hearing it for the first time. “Okay, I probably deserved that….”
“Yeah,” she said, tiredly. She turned her back on him and leaned against the island, swirling her drink.
To her back, he said, “Okay, I’m a blockhead,” he said absently. “Marty, I thought I was trying. I swear to God, I’d prance around the house with your bra on my head and feathers shoved up my ass if I thought it would make you smile at me one time. Jesus.”
She turned around and looked at him.
“You used to smile at me all the time, Marty,” he said softly.
“You used to care if I was happy,” she said to him.
“Honest to God, I thought there was nothing I could do anymore. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden I couldn’t make you happy no matter what. I thought I was doing my job, doing what a good husband does.” He leaned on the island. “I care if you’re happy. Jesus, I’d give anything to make you happy again.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” she said evasively. “Right now you might as well just go to bed, because I have other things on my mind. And guess what, Joe? Whether you and I work things out is not one of them. I can’t talk about this anymore right now. Can’t you see I’m in pain over Beth? God, just leave me alone!”
He straightened up and got a look on his face like he was hurt. Cut to the quick. And the thought that came into her mind was, So what? Fuck you for thinking about what you can get from me when I’m wondering how I’m going to deal if one of my best friends since childhood dies. But she didn’t say it; she was too angry. Angry with him, with Beth’s disease, with the way things sometimes turned out. She just lifted her chin, stared him down and bit on her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
Then he turned and left her and she felt the desolation of having shut him down when, for the first time in her memory, he seemed to actually hear her. But she couldn’t deal with that now. Tears rushed to her eyes anew and she wasn’t entirely sure why. It could be that she’d given up on her marriage and knew it. It could be about what Beth was going to go through, trying to beat this beast that got to her again. Or maybe it was the fear of possibly being alone forever.
She grabbed the neck of the Grand Marnier bottle and took it to the family room sofa. After kicking off her shoes, she curled up in the corner, her glass resting on one thigh, the whole bottle on the other. And she let herself just cry. Her sniffs were loud, but she kept her sobs as quiet as possible; she didn’t want to wake Jason. And she could’ve grabbed the tissue box from the kitchen counter, but there was something punishingly satisfying about just wiping her nose and face on her good sweater instead, suffering. Through it all, had Beth cried or fallen apart? Not at all! She’d been trying to reassure them that this would be as it would be and they’d all get beyond it somehow. It was devastating that she could be so strong.
Completely unaware of how much time had passed, she felt him beside her before she saw or heard him. He sat down close to her, lifted the glass and bottle from her hands to put them on the coffee table. He said, “Come on, baby.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close to him. “Come here, baby. Let me hold you.”
Instinctively angry, she slugged him in the chest, hard. But then immediately, her head dropped to his shoulder and her cries came out unrestrained, loud and wrenching, and he only pulled her closer. “God,” she said through her tears. “God, God, God! It just isn’t fair!”
“You’re damn right about that,” he whispered. He kissed her head and stroked her hair while she let it go. Her tears and snot were matting his chest hair, but all she could do was vent. It seemed to her she might never stop; it felt as if she’d been holding in tears like this for a long time. She was vaguely aware of his voice, whispering to her that she was right, it was wrong, this shouldn’t be happening. His arm around her was protective; his gentle caresses were comforting.
It was a long while before she lifted her head and looked up at him. She had a bad case of the hiccups and her face was wet and sloppy. “Her chest,” she said in a hiccuping gasp, “it’s ravaged!”
“Aw, Marty,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.
“It’s so mean and painful looking. And she’s so brave, you can’t imagine how brave. She says this is what it is and we’re going to get used to it.” She let her head drop and cried a little more. “If I had to go through that, I couldn’t be a tenth as brave.”
“Oh, I bet you’re wrong. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I’m not. I’m scared all the time, you have no idea. I’m scared of what’s going to happen to me and Jase. Scared of facing something like Beth’s facing, and being alone like she is. You don’t know—I’m worried and scared all the time.”
He gave her a small smile. “You sure can’t tell it,” he said. “You’re pretty feisty. Real tough, if you ask me.” He gave her hair a stroke. “Listen, she might get through this okay. The worst might be over. She could beat it, you know? Still have a full, long life.”
“We were just ready to get married when it happened before. She wore a wig at our wedding, remember? Because she was bald. Mark was going to marry her, but he couldn’t take it. He left her.”
“I remember that,” Joe said. “I didn’t even know the guy, but I hated him for that. Weak dick. He oughta be ashamed of himself.”
“Now she’s in it again, and all she has is us—the girls. What good is that? What can we do?”
“It’s better than having that weak dick, that’s for damn sure. Marty, listen. You know that I’d never walk out on you for something like that, right? They could carve up every piece of your beautiful body, remove your gorgeous face and sew your vagina shut and I’d be with you for life. You know that, right? That it’s not about that with me? I mean, I’m stupid enough to be cocky proud of your good looks, but that’s not what’s really important. Not what I love. You don’t have to ever be scared about something like that.”
“Well, that’s pretty decent,” she said with a huff of teary, disbelieving laughter. “Considering I’m ready to leave you for refusing to shower and shave….” She put a hand against his cheek. She sniffed. “You showered and shaved.”
“I didn’t think you’d let me hold you if I didn’t…”
Her hand dropped to his lap and true to form he muttered a throaty, “Whoa!” But she ignored that. “These are not the crusty, nasty shorts.” And then her hand snaked around the elastic waistband and came in contact with the new purchase tags. “They still have the tags on.”
“I should probably get those off, huh? Uh, I might’ve torn up the closet a little finding ’em, but I set the alarm for early. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
“I have hardly any confidence in that….”
“I swear to God!”
She put her hand against his cheek again. “It was nice of you to shave before… Your whiskers are so hard on my skin.”
“You never complained when we were engaged…”
“You always shaved before we got married…”
“I did, huh? Jesus, Marty, I’m a dunce. I’m sorry. Your skin’s so soft… I’m an idiot.”
“I’m still going to my room down the hall.”
“Sure. Yeah. Really, I only shaved and showered so I could get near you. I didn’t want you crying like that alone. You want me to go to your new room with you and hold you till
you’re asleep? I know you’re so out of your mind with this thing. This thing with Beth.”
“No,” she said. “Just right here, right now. That’s as far as I can go, all right?”
“Okay. As long as you believe me, no matter what comes for you—sickness or health—I don’t scare easy.”
“I hope we don’t have to face that, because seriously…if it takes me moving out of the bedroom to get you to wash up, I’d hate to think how you’d handle something truly serious.”
He kissed her forehead and pulled her head back against his chest. “Gimme time, honey. I might not be hopeless.”
Ten
August disappeared. It was still hot in the valley in September; sometimes it seemed hotter than ever. Billy and Jules finally had a meeting scheduled with their credit counselor after weeks of waiting, not knowing if the news would be that they had to file for bankruptcy or if they’d be presented with a recovery program that was even more tight and stressful than what they’d been going through for years. Their tension was prickly in the car on their way to the meeting.
“I really need you to accept whatever’s coming, Billy,” she said. “If we have to file, we’ll get beyond it somehow.”
“I don’t want to do that, but I will,” he said shortly. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You know that.”
“I want you to like me again.”
“That’s not part of the problem. I love you. It’s just hard to swallow that I couldn’t make it work.”
“I handled the money—don’t you think it’s hard to swallow that I couldn’t make it work? Be fair. It’s a team effort and we did the best we could. I need you. I hate it when you’re gone, and now even when you’re with me, you’re still gone.”
He reached over and squeezed her thigh, but his eyes stayed on the road. “I’ll work on that. I don’t want you to feel that way.”
When they walked into John’s office—an impersonal cubical—they took chairs in front of his desk expectantly. Fearfully.
“Hey, you two,” he said cheerfully. “Well, we got everyone in the program. You’re not in good shape yet, but you’re in recoverable shape.” He opened their file on his desk and took two identical printouts off the top. “Here’s a new payment schedule for you. Let me explain. The college loans have been suspended for two years. You have no idea how many people just default and never repay them, anyway. They’re thrilled you want to make them good, and at four percent, they’re a bargain. Oh, they reduced the balance for you—firefighting qualifies as government service because they’re state loans. They need first responders—firefighters and law enforcement.