My wedding was small, but I wanted it that way. We spent our honeymoon hiking the mountains of Colorado, off the beaten trails. I love the outdoors, and we stayed at the most quaint bed and breakfasts we could find. For as nervous as I’d been, things couldn’t have gone more perfectly. At least, until we got home and saw the note tacked to our door.
The fact is, Jerry and I had been living together for almost two years. We still managed to surprise each other, and it seemed the rough times were over. Jerry’s promotion to foreman made us secure, and I’d gained enough clients as a computer consultant to open my own practice from home. These were exciting times, and a fresh beginning. I wanted nothing to get in the way.
Folding the note in his gloved hands, Jerry had that look of his. Falling snow collected on his scarf and his dark beard, but he wouldn’t move. He just looked across our front yard with our suitcases at his feet.
“What is it?” I said. It was cold, and I wanted to get inside.
“My sister needs our help.”
“Your sister? Do you mean Fay?”
“That’s my sister’s name, Ellen” he said, sounding a bit snotty. That was his defense when something happened that I wouldn’t like. He hadn’t spoken with his sister since we’d first met. Their falling out went back years. All the same, I didn’t see the problem. If she needed help, then he should help her. Family is family, and sometimes, difficulty can help bring people back together.
“She needs to stay with us for awhile,” Jerry added.
“I see.” I sighed, warm mist rising between us. My arm ached from the heavy bag I was holding, and I suggested that we get inside where it was warm.
I made hot tea while Jerry put our bags in the bedroom. The only bedroom, I thought to myself, and my mind was already trying to find ways for another person to stay there. It was a small house, our first, and the spare room was where I kept my new office.
We drank our tea in the den. I read the note, which itself was vague. Jerry was as baffled as I was; I pounded him with questions, and he just shook his head and kept saying, “I don’t know.”
Then around 9:30 p.m., we got the call. Jerry rubbed his beard the whole time he was on the phone. He looked at me from across the room, like he wanted my help. But all I did was shrug.
“She’s your sister,” I said once or twice, my stomach tense. I turned my head and watched some television. I was just about to go to bed when Jerry hung up. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I smelled his worried breath drift around me. “She’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “How do you feel about that?”
“Fine,” I said, getting up. “Just fine.”
That night, I hardly slept. Jerry slept fine, of course; he’d driven a long way from the airport. Still, I couldn’t help but feel angry as I listened to his snores. He hadn’t even told me why his sister needed to stay. I wanted to talk to him about it, but I felt selfish. After all, Fay was family. What more was there to say?
The next day, I checked my messages from the past two weeks. I had three phone messages and two emails from prospective clients, plus a couple of repeat messages from the installer I would contract to do the labor. Everyone sounded anxious to get things moving.
Jerry said that he’d meet Fay for brunch while I handled my calls. Then, more than likely, he’d bring her back with him.
“Sounds great,” I said, smiling as sweetly as I could. Then I turned around and got back to work. I realize now how I tended to avoid things. Even my messages had waited for too long, but I guess we all live to grow.
Time flew. I looked at the clock in my office when I heard the front door open, and was surprised to see that it was already a quarter past two. I got up, noticed my frazzled hair, and tried to fix myself up in the mirror before meeting our guest. When I saw her lit cigarette and all the bags she’d brought with her, I knew I was in trouble.
“I’ll go get the rest of your things,” Jerry said after introducing us. I wasn’t sure what to say. My mind was still in my office, but I noticed that Fay had her hand cupped to catch her ashes.
“Let me get you something,” I said, and I went to the kitchen.
So I’ve mentioned that I’m an outdoors-type person. I like to work out, eat right and enjoy life. Closed quarters with smoke just doesn’t fit into that paradigm, but I felt like I was looking for problems. Maybe she was upset. Maybe cigarettes were her crutch, something she’d given up for years until whatever recent tragedy struck. Digging through the cupboards, I found the lid to an empty jar and took it to her.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, puffing and taking the lid. “It’s been hell.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I hope we can help.”
Fay looked at Jerry as he came back, a suitcase and two boxes balanced precariously in his arms. She said, “All I need is a room for a couple of weeks, and I’ll be fine.”
“A room?” I tapped my fingers on the wall, a nervous reaction. “All we have is the one bedroom. Maybe we could–”
“I can stay somewhere else,” she interrupted, rather rudely. “I’m not quite out money yet.”
“No,” Jerry said. “You’ll stay here. We can arrange something. Can’t we, Ellen?”
I nodded. At that moment, I’d become the outsider.
As it turned out, Fay had left her husband, and he’d frozen all of their accounts. Somewhere along the line, she lost her job as well. She came to town by bus a few days ago. When she found that we weren’t home, she stayed in a motel and used up her cash. It was hard for her, but these facts didn’t make the next few weeks any easier.
We moved the sleeper sofa from the den and into my office. After all, Fay needed some privacy, but she insisted upon sleeping until almost noon. I woke her more than once, until one day, I found the door locked. To make matters worse, once she let me in, the room stunk of cigarette smoke. Asking her to smoke outdoors didn’t help, and it was hard to confront her with Jerry gone most of the day.
And when I suggested to Fay that she might look for a job, she acted disinterested. None of the local jobs suited her. “I managed my own department,” she’d say. “How do you expect me to work as a receptionist? I don’t even have a car.”
“You can use mine until you’re on your feet.”
She’d shake her head and light another cigarette, quite content to ignore me and watch television. Soon, my own work began to slide.
Of course, Fay would change her cantankerous demeanor as soon as Jerry walked in the door. She would cry and tell him that she had nothing left to live for. I never thought he could be manipulated so handily. Not Jerry. Not the ironclad foreman, but maybe this powerplay had gone on since they were kids, long before I came into Jerry’s life. With each passing day, I felt more shut out. I needed to escape.
One morning, I got in my car and drove down to the Jamison Power Line Company. It was a small business, despite the long name, and it was Mr. Jamison whom I subcontracted to install my computer networks. I’d called ahead and told him that I needed to talk business. More honestly, I needed a sympathetic ear. Maybe he was the wrong choice. Neil Jamison was attractive, with a fit body and devilish, blue eyes. An uninhibited spirit, he was no one’s pawn. He liked me, maybe more than he should have. My husband hadn’t paid much attention to me since Fay moved in. Still, I had to discover for myself what I would do.
I found Neil in the front of his office suite, talking something over with his receptionist. I waited until they were done, and he invited me into the back. My first instinct was to say no. I feared the things I felt. Neil had a way of making everyone he came in contact with feel special, and I desired that feeling.
“I have coffee brewing,” he said. “We can talk in private.”
“Okay,” I said, and I got up from my chair with the manila folders I’d brought as an excuse to meet him. I followed through a door and into the back room, which comprised the bulk of his suite. It was a strange place, bare-walled and lit by fluorescent lights that flickered from an unfinished ceiling. Work benches crowded the area, full of wires, tools and gutted computers. Amid the mess, there was a small desk, totally disorganized, and Neil sat at the swivel chair behind it and leaned back. He looked so confident. His wry smile was gorgeous.
“What have you brought me?” he said, looking at my folders. His eyes moved up slowly, past my open coat and sweater, up my neck and mouth, settling right on my own eyes. Maybe it was the cold, but I swear that my toes tingled.
“Just some papers,” I said. “The Roberts account, I think.”
“Show me.”
I fidgeted. Leaning over his desk, I opened the folder and realized that I hadn’t brought anything that concerned him. Just personal garbage. “I think I grabbed the wrong things,” I said. That was when he noticed that my hands were shaking.
“Seems like the last thing you need is coffee, Ellen.”
I blushed. “I’m just cold,” I said.
“Here, why don’t you take my seat. Relax for minute.”
I dropped the folders and went around his desk. He took off my coat and guided my into his chair. He put his hands on my shoulders, brushing my hair aside to rub my muscles. I was sore from stress, and his touch felt nice. I relaxed just a bit.
“Is anything bothering you?” he said. “You feel tense.”
“No.”
“Problems at home, maybe?”
“Of course not!” I blurted. “Why would you say that?”
His hands stopped kneading for a moment, and I felt him shrug before he resumed. “You said that your sister-in-law was staying. It can be rough. Especially since you were just married.”
I didn’t respond. At least, not verbally. Words didn’t seem to matter, and I acted on impulse and seized his hand. He leaned into me until I felt his breath in my ear, and I closed my eyes as he slowly turned the chair around. His lips touched mine, but barely. My breath stopped, but my heart didn’t. It raced as I reached for his shoulders, so wide in his Italian suit. I wished that he would just kiss me, would just make the first move so that I could either accept or reject him.
“What do you want?” he said, so I kissed him.
The embrace was passionate but brief. He moved away, turning his back to me and running his fingers through his black hair.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed and a little hurt.
“Don’t be.” He looked back at me and smiled. I could tell he wanted me, but something held him. He said, “You must know how much I’ve thought about this. But being associates and all–”
“I know. I know. We can’t.”
“It’s not that, Ellen. Wait, don’t leave. I just want to be sure of something.”
I settled back in my seat as best as I could. At that moment, I just wanted to get out of there and lick my wounded pride. “What is it?”
His eyes turned sad. “You know about my divorce,” he said. “You were there for me. You know it’s been rough, and you know about all of the women I’ve seen.”
“Smug, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that. It’s just how I cope. I know I flirt. I do it with you, but I would give anything to have it all back.”
Well, I didn’t know what to say. The words cut deep, and I realized how big of a risk I’d just taken. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or maybe it was a lot of things, but I cried right there, and Neil came to me and held me in his arms. Like all those times I’d held him after his wife left.
“I care about you, Ellen. Too much to do this. And I care about myself, too.”
“Jerry won’t listen to me, Neil. I try to tell him that I want our life back, but you know how stubborn and closed up he can be.”
“Men are thick-headed animals,” he said, and made me laugh. “But we do listen. Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”
I stayed for almost an hour. We talked about my situation and other things, too. We laughed, and I felt like a burden was lifted with every smile. I didn’t need a lover. What I needed was a friend, and Neil was there for me.
When I left, I treated myself to a late lunch. I took a drive to clear my head, and I got home just before Jerry did. I told him that we needed to talk, and made clear that I wanted to be alone. We went for dinner, and by then, I had everything I wanted to say planned in my head. Of course, the words never come the way we expect them to, but I expressed the problems we were having. Jerry said that he’d ask his sister to leave in a week, and I said no, it has to be sooner.
“I can’t hurt you,” I told him. “But you’re hurting me.”
The next night was Ellen’s last with us. To be frank, asking her to go wasn’t easy. She had names for me. Unpleasant names, but her words only stiffened Jerry’s resolve. He had begun to see that he’d fallen into the same habits that had caused he and his sister’s problems long ago, and he told her that he cared too much to let those resentments breathe again. A few days later, she found a job, and we helped her put down a deposit for her new apartment. She’s not angry, anymore. She says that we did the right thing, and she’s doing well.
As for Jerry and I . . . . Well, what can I say? We’re newlyweds, after all, and we’re well into our second new beginning.
© Jennifer Lindenberger
Like Ellen, the author is recently married and has started her own practice at home. She has modeled for Eidos, Perceptions and Amateur Hours and has written work used by Hecate’s Loom, The Color Wheel, Perceptions, Girlfriends and other magazines and newspapers. We’re pleased to include her work here. This work is copyrighted by the author and is reproduced on this website with her permission.