Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon (33 page)

That did it. The cork blew on our tension and we all started laughing.

Nancy and Ed gathered their things and made a plan to come over the next day.

Jon and I were doing the dishes.

“So Nancy’s idea is that including her in our family will make her go away?” asked Jon.

“I think it’s more that when faced with a united front, she’ll give up. Maybe next time you should stay in the room. I’m not giving up ground again. This is my house.”

I watched him wipe down the counters.

“Did you really book her flight?”

“Chana did. I would have put her on a morning flight.”

I laughed.

“I love the truth,” I said.

He leaned in the bathroom doorway while I brushed my teeth.

“Will you come back to our bed tonight?” he asked.

“Last time you didn’t even know it was me.”

“I knew it was you.”

“Not yet. I’m going to sleep on the lanai. You can come for a visit if you want.”

He got in bed with me. We’re not big but it was still a tight fit. We lay looking at each other.

“You need to paint when this is over,” he said. “The greatest tragedy of the family is the unlived lives of the parents.”

“You’re quoting Jung?” I asked.

“I minored in philosophy,” he said.

“I didn’t know that. Kinda fluffy for you.”

“Try reading a straight translation of Nietzsche.”

“Jung was a psychologist,” I said.

“Same thing,” he said.

He kissed me goodnight and went to bed. I lay in the dark and thought about him reading Nietzsche until I dropped off to sleep.

Ed and Nancy kept us busy being tourists on our own island. We took Meggie and Chance over to the cottages for swims. Jimmy came by at the end of each day, probed my finger and stuck needles in me to get me ready for the surgery. The plan was to see how the first surgery went. We’d stay over for a few weeks, and then Jon would come home if I needed to do a second one.

Karin and Oscar were coming down the weekend before. I called Bob and Sherry and made a tentative date to see them after the surgery. Mark and Belle stopped by a few times. I think he was curious about Celeste but too shy to come right out and ask about her. It saved me having to tell him she’s nuts. Which I thought she was, but then again, maybe she wasn’t. I could see how her long history with Jon and Glen could drive someone crazy.

Jon worked every day getting things lined up for his absence. He still went in every other night, but didn’t stay as late. Jugs was taking on more and more responsibility. Without talking about it, we had developed a new rhythm. He visited me in my bed every night where we talked and made out, and then woke up in separate beds. We were feeling our way.

I was growing a fifth chamber of understanding in my heart for the man I married who had cared to protect his daughter’s creation myth enough to drag a shameful memory of his own behavior along, without becoming ugly.

The flight to San Diego was easy. Meggie said “Aloha” and tossed waves, up and down the aisle, then fell asleep across Jon and Nancy. Chance took his usual approach and slept the whole way on top of me.

Ed was waiting for us at the exit gate and whisked Nancy off for nine holes of golf, or a dose of patience between the sheets. We settled in at Eric and Anna’s, had dinner and put the kids to bed, and then sat in the kitchen with some new tea concoction Chana had sent.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Eric.

“Everyone is coming tomorrow for a big send off,” I said. “They act like I’m having open heart surgery. I’m scheduled for Monday afternoon. I check in early.”

“No one has surgery on Monday,” said Eric. “The equipment’s been growing bacteria all weekend. Reschedule for Wednesday.”

“It’s too late for that. I was lucky to get on his schedule as it was.”

“Is that true?” asked Jon.

“Yeah,” said Eric. “Our pharmacist said every case of staph he’s seen started on a Monday. Probably why you got a slot on such short notice.”

“You should reschedule, H,” said Jon.

“I’ll be fine. It’s a big hospital. They probably do procedures all weekend. Don’t get Jon worrying, Eric.”

Jon and I slept in the same bed at their house. Neither of us was willing to sleep on the sofa bed in the den, aka The Rack. Even their uppity cat wouldn’t sleep on it.

I’d flung my arm around him like I usually did. He was looking at me in the morning light.

“Why are you watching me sleep?”

“I’m worried about the Monday thing,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. Where’s Meggie?”

“With Eric and Anna. Must have overshot our door.”

“I wonder how he feels about kids after being choked all night.”

“You want to make out?” he asked.

He was smiling and sliding my nightgown up with one hand, while the other was doing something that had nothing to do with making out. He’d always been a man with more than two hands.

“No way,” I said. “This is my big brother’s house.”

“He doesn’t scare me.”

I could hear his voice in my belly.

“Is this in case I die?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Going off to war.”

I warmed up to him and slid my hand down his belly. He growled in my ear.

“Jesus, Hannah. It’s been a while.”

“Papa!” said Meggie.

She was jiggling the door handle. A diehard optimist, Jon had locked the door.

“Papa! Papa!”

She was warming up and jiggling with sincere determination. He got up, put on pants, and watched as I made a big show of sliding my nightgown down to the background music of handle rattling and heavy breathing through the crack in the door. I threw in some lip licking. Not quite burlesque, but I could see it did the trick.

“We can just ignore her,” I said. “Let her claw around.”

He was considering it, when she started tapping her foot and rasping “Papa” like the exorcist, through the crack. Eric was coming down the hall telling her we were asleep. She said we were not, she could hear us talking. She was probably sitting with her ear glued to the door. Xtreme trike riding had made her saucy.

“Remind me why we had kids,” said Jon.

“You wanted her. He came standard with the Dodge. Like a cupholder and floor mats.”

He took one last look and opened the door.

“Hey, Megs,” he said. “What’s up?”

His less than subservient voice nicked her little psyche and flicked in her eyes.

Eric saw me yank the covers up, smiled at Jon, and said, “Sorry, man.”

So much for the big brother as protector idea.

Everyone gathered around the pool at the country club. The older kids started a game of Marco Polo, what we called Roger Wilco in honor of my father. Richard, model earthling that he was, carried Meggie through the whole game. Eric carried Chance. Mom and Arthur showed up with Aunt Asp and Uncle Number Three-Tailbone-Jim. Jon and I were lounging under an umbrella. He was sliding his hand under my pareu, and I was batting it away, but he was gaining ground. 

“Did you tell Chana that Celeste showed up for dinner?” I asked.

“Yep. She threw her hands up,” he said. “She thought the redeye would work better.”

“I’m going to spend some time tonight writing the kids letters, just in case something goes wrong tomorrow.”

“We should rethink it,” said Jon.

“I’ll be fine, but if something does happen to me, I want you to find someone right away. Be sure she’ll be good to my children. No McDonald’s. Don’t marry her until you’re sure about McDonald’s.”           

“I’ll raise them alone.”

“Men always remarry. You have to or everyone will think we weren’t happy. Maybe someone who loves the kids but hates sex.”

“Thanks a lot,” he said. “I think I’ll just hire a hot daddy’s helper.”

“Oh brother. I’ll be watching you.”

“And if I remarry?”

“I’ll look away. Jealous and grief-stricken. Just don’t do that Great Gig thing you do.”

“I’ll tell her I would, but you’re watching.”

“Okay. We can stop talking now.”

Everyone went to bed early. What a scene. Jon tried every moon swim trick in the book, but Meggie would not sleep on the other side of a locked door.

The surgery went smoothly. They left my index finger and thumb free to be a pincher. The surgeon stopped by in the morning to look at the situation. What is it with men and sports lingo? He called the surgery a
home run
. It wouldn’t be perfect, but no second surgery. I gave him the victory sign with my left thumb and forefinger. I could still ask for a table for two in Paris. Morphine rides again.

I was released two days later. We monkeyed around in La Jolla until we were sure I was okay, and then made plans to see Marty and Amy in L.A. then on to Santa Barbara. We stopped in Solana Beach to say good-bye to Mom and Arthur, and hit the road north. I was riding a magic carpet of Percocet and relief. When we hit Oceanside, Jon took the exit east.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Back way. Chana said the freeway is detoured through New Jersey. We might never get there from here.”

“We can stop at the farm stand and get some goodies to take to Bob and Sherry.”

“How about lunch at the truck stop?” he asked. “Take the Hannah Spring historical tour.”

“Very funny. I’m not telling you where it is.”

“Eric googled it. They have a website. The logo looks like a shower head raining on a burger.”

“Oh brother. Forget it.”

Meggie and Chance fell asleep and I relaxed into the drive through rolling gold hills. The smell of irrigation water hitting dry earth and ash from a recent burn was infused with the scent of sage.

“We should drive up the 101 when the kids are older,” I said. “Show them the rolling hills and oaks we saw on car trips. It’s so different from home.”

“Eric wants to go in on a condo in Mammoth,” he said. “A vacation rental. It’ll be a good investment.”

The acrid smell of wet cow shit and fertilizer insinuated its way into the clean chaparral perfume. We were getting near the dairy farms.

“Eric’s trying to reproduce the family the way it was,” I said.

“Is that bad?”

“God. No. You’re right. I sound like Asp. How big? There could be a lot of us.”

“Three bedrooms. We’ll bunk the kids. You’re in charge of design.”

“Fun. We should go up and look around after we see your folks. We have time now.”

“That’s the plan.”

I stuck my good hand out the window and flew it on the dry wind current until oasis G&S came up on the right. Jon slowed down.

“I just want to look,” he said.

He pulled into the parking lot and parked between a double trailer Mack and a still flickering motel sign. Vacancy. I snorted.

“I bet no one has set foot in that room since I cleaned it.”

There were several John Deere trucks, but no blue Volvo station wagon, not that Stroud was still driving the Volvo or truck.

“Okay, Jon the Deer, you’ve seen it. Let’s go.” I said. “We could still hit traffic.”

Meggie woke up and gazed out the window with one smashed pink cheek, while she pinched her stuffed whale and reentered the world. She got a big smile on her face.

“Bits, Mama,” she said.

“Don’t say that, Meggie,” I said.

Her face fell and she started to cry. “I need to go potty.”

Chance woke up and started in. Jon smiled at me.

“She needs to go potty,” he said.

“You take her,” I said.

“Customers only. Come on, we need to eat lunch somewhere. You said the food is good.”

I glared but he ignored me while he hauled out Meggie, Chance and gear. He put Chance in a stroller. I sat in the car and glared on. My phone rang. Karin.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “Jon said you’re stopping at the cemetery. You have cash?”

I told her where we were and that Jon may be staying in the cemetery.

“Why?” she asked.

“Seriously?” I said. “Wouldn’t you kill Oscar if he dragged you back to the scene of various crimes for the fun of it?”

“I meant why is he doing it?”

“He wants to eat. I have no idea why he’s really doing it.”

“Maybe he’s going in for the money.”

“I hope not. This is trucker territory and there isn’t a hospital for miles. I suspect he planned this with help from Eric. I may kill him too.”

“Don’t kill anybody until you find out why.”

Jon opened my door and helped me out, then walked off holding Meggie’s hand, and left me standing there with Chance in a stroller with one hand and one pincher. He held the door while I pushed the stroller through. Joyce smiled at the rare couple with children before she recognized me. The confusion on her face probably mirrored my own.

“Don’t confront her about the money, Jon.”

He looked at me with an amused smile as Joyce marched up with menus.

“Four with a booster seat please, Joyce,” said Jon.

Joyce looked wary as she led us to a table. Meggie sneaked a look at me, and then smiled at Jon.

“Bits, Papa,” she said.

“Yes, Megs,” said Jon.

He smiled placidly at Joyce, never a good thing with him. She led us to a window table and dragged over a booster seat. It was clean. Bits is right. We ordered.

“How’d you know it was her?” I asked.

“She’s the only squinty-eyed bits in uniform.”

“She’ll probably spit in our food.”

“She’ll have to get off the phone first,” said Jon.

He was right. Joyce was on the phone talking with furtive body language, like the mafia had walked in with machine guns. Her husband, the cook, looked over the high order counter with the clippy carousel thingy, his eyeballs were cat-at-night eerie with orange light from the heat lamps. He tipped his finger to the greasy brim of his jaunty cap. I told Jon his relationship to Stroud.

“Stroud?” he asked. “I thought his name was Watts.”

“Stroud. Watts. Whatever,” I said.

“Which is it?”

“Both.”

“That’s a new one,” he said.