The puppies rolled around together on the lawn in front of Ray Santia’s house. They were so alike in looks and style that it was hard to tell where Wrinkles ended and Creases began. I was a bit envious of their quick intimacy.
“Would you like to go get a cup of coffee, Sarah?”
“That would be nice. I’ll take Wrinkles home first and meet you….where?”
*
Christmas lights twinkled at three in the afternoon in the evergreen-packed window boxes outside Morning Glories, and antique sleigh bells on a strip of cracked brown leather jingled as I pulled open the heavy door. Spicy smells met me at the threshold. The holidays were so depressingly beautiful.
Ray Santia was sitting at a table talking to my father. “Dad,” I said across the button-topped tables. “Dad,” I said again before I could stop myself, the word expanding to two syllables. “What are you doing here?” I sneaked a peek at Ray. He was really as handsome as I remembered him from earlier in the day. He looked like an aging Marlboro Man, dark hair and mustache, faded jeans and flannel shirt.
“Sarah, my darlin’ daughter. What a delightful surprise, isn’t it?” My father pushed his hair back, turned to Ray. “What have I been telling you, son? Is my little girl lovely or is my little girl lovely? Not a reason on God’s green earth she hasn’t been scooped up again by now.” He shook his index finger sternly at Ray. “I’m warning you, though, you’d better move fast. I think you’ve got some competition….”
“Dad!”
Ray stood up and extended his hand. “Hi, Sarah. Nice to see you again.”
Not to be outdone, my father stood up, too. I gave Dad a reluctant hug, rolling my eyes over his shoulder for Ray’s benefit. “Okay, Dad. Good-bye. You’ve done enough.”
My father sat down. “I was just telling your new young fella here about the time you made it all the way to finals in your high school cheerleading competition.”
“That was Christine, Dad.” I looked at Ray. “Sorry, she’s already married.”
Ray laughed. A nice, direct laugh, right out there for the world to hear. He never would have given me the time of day in high school.
“All set, Billy Boy. One homemade chicken pie baked with extra-special loving care with my very own two hands.” A waitress, not much older than me, stood too close to my father as she placed a paper bag in front of him on the table. It was a small table, already crowded. She reached down and smoothed his wandering lock of hair back. I resisted the urge to cover my face with my hands.
By the time my father left, I was ready to pack my bags and move to another state. “What a character,” Ray said into the silence left in my father’s wake.
“Mmm.” How many hundreds of times had I heard my father described that way?
“Are you okay? Come on, he didn’t tell me anything. Just that Kevin wasn’t on his best day good enough for you.”
“Great.”
A waitress delivered our coffee. I hadn’t quite forgotten the blueberry scone I’d wanted since this morning, but I certainly wasn’t going to be the only one ordering food. Ray took a sip of his coffee and looked around Morning Glories, either checking out the decor or the other customers. I waited him out. “So,” he said finally, turning back to me.
“So,” I repeated. “Um, tell me about yourself.”
“Well, I guess I’d have to say I’m your basic underachiever. Had a lot of potential once but……” Ray stared wistfully into his coffee cup.
I took my cue. “What kind of potential?”
“Hockey. At one point everyone was sure I’d play professionally — ”
“So what happened?”
“Well, my senior year in high school I had some offers from colleges. Nobody big, sort of low-end Division 1. My parents thought if I prepped for a year, I’d get bigger and better and the top colleges would come knocking. So, I went away to prep school. And, basically, after a year I wasn’t any better and everyone had forgotten about me. So I played on a mediocre team at a mediocre college.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked gently, thinking it might really matter to this guy whether or not I had been a cheerleader over twenty years ago.
Ray stared at me with brown eyes that were framed by deep, outdoorsy wrinkles. Forgetting that I’d even asked a question, I explored his craggy features with enthusiasm. “Yeah, I know, Sarah. Get over it. Right, that’s what you’re thinking? But it’s not just about the hockey. I think I did the same thing with everything else in my life. I was engaged twice. Well, three times, but once was only for a month. Anyway, each time, perfectly nice girls, women….” He slid his watch around on his wrist but kept looking at me. “Well, I couldn’t go through with it. I kept thinking,
What if I meet someone better tomorrow?
You know, I’m standing on the altar and the perfect woman walks by and then what do I do? — ”
“More coffee?” the waitress asked, interrupting. She poured without waiting for an answer.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spew out my whole life story,” Ray said. Immediately, I felt guilty for not listening more closely. Ray’s face was so distracting. I hoped I hadn’t missed anything important. “You’re just so easy to talk to, Sarah.”
“Thanks. And you’re easy to listen to. I mean….I think that came out wrong.”
Ray laughed. “All right. My turn to listen. Tell me about yourself.”
We talked through the second cup of coffee, and then Ray walked me to my car. Standing in the mostly deserted parking lot, glittery lights everywhere, he kissed me. It was a kiss that might have meant more kisses down the road. Or it might have been just to keep in practice for when the perfect woman came along.
“I’ll call you,” he said, holding the door as I got into my car.
“Dad is seeing Marlene? She’s the one from the Brennan Bake, right? In the sailor suit?”
“Right. You let her brother slip through your fingers.”
“He was repulsive.”
“He was rich. And single.”
I tried to distract Carol from the brother. “What was up with that sailor suit, anyway? I mean, do you think she rented it at a costume shop or had it just been sitting in her closet for a couple of decades?”
“I think it’s the frugal Yankee thing where you don’t throw clothes out unless they have holes, even though you give catered dinner parties twice a month. She probably thought it was the perfect outfit for a quaint little Irish gathering.”
I had to stop myself from bragging to Carol that I was doing just fine in the date department without Marlene’s rich brother, who wasn’t much of a dresser himself, as I remembered. That if things worked out and he actually called, I’d have a date with Ray Santia. And I was still considering the possibility of dating Bob Connor, though I hadn’t heard from him since he asked me to think about it. Maybe he knew I was a slow thinker. And, speaking of slow thinking, then there was John. I’d tucked the details of our dinner into the back corners of my mind, hoping they’d make more sense when I took them out again. Anyway, the last thing I needed was for Carol to meddle in what might actually become a real live social life. I nudged the subject back to Dad. “So when did Marlene come back into the picture?”
“I don’t think she was ever out of the picture. I think Dad’s been seeing her all along.” Carol must have been starting dinner. I heard pans clattering and her voice kept getting louder and softer.
“Does Dolly know?”
“Be serious. He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
“Do you have any idea what he sees in Dolly?”
“Absolutely. Men like Dad feel safe with a woman like Dolly keeping an eye on them. He can be the charming rogue, and know that she’ll catch him before he gets himself into any real trouble.”
“Wow. How about Marlene?”
“I think she might give him enough rope to hang himself. You know, all that freedom would make him nervous because he might have to stand on his own two feet for a change.”
“What about Mom? Did she watch his every move?”
“Yeah, I think she did, in a quieter way, though. He didn’t get away with much for long, that’s for sure.”
“Mom and Dad really loved each other, didn’t they, Carol?”
“Yes,” she said. “They did.”
“Good. I’m glad — I mean, I always thought so. So, explain it again. What is this invitation we’re not allowed to say no to?” Thank goodness for cordless phones. I had mine tucked in the crook of my neck so I could do biceps curls while I talked to Carol. It wouldn’t hurt to be relatively buff while I was dating. I dropped to the floor, held the five-pound weights at my chest, did a few crunches. The phone worked its way loose and rolled away.
Carol was too busy talking to notice. “….private holiday performance of the Cambridge Symphony Orchestra,” she was saying when I put the weights down on the floor and picked up the phone. “For patrons and their guests. Marlene bought out the whole first balcony. She told Dad to bring the entire family and as many friends as we want. So Dad rented a tour bus.”
“A tour bus?”
“Yeah, you know Dad. Marlene wouldn’t let him pay for the tickets, so he had to make some kind of grand gesture.”
“Why not a limo?”
“We’d never fit in one limo, and Dad wanted us all to ride together. He looked into a trolley but decided a bus would be a more luxurious ride. Plus it has bathrooms and we can even watch movies. He also took the catering option so they’ll serve beer and wine and appetizers.”
It didn’t seem worth pointing out that Marshbury was only about an hour’s drive from Cambridge. With traffic, maybe an hour and a half. I picked up the weights again and did a few presses, working my triceps this time. I was trying to decide if a bus trip with my family to the symphony could possibly be fun. And if it was too early to invite Ray Santia to come with me. Or, if that didn’t work out, to consider inviting Bob Connor.
*
The kids were seated happily at circle, and I was in such a good mood. I’d accomplished a lot yesterday, the actual meeting of Ray Santia all by myself, the actual drinking of coffee with him, which had led to an actual phone call from him last night inviting me to dinner. After I hung up, I even thought about calling Bob Connor, just to make sure I wasn’t putting too many eggs in the Ray Santia basket. Decided I’d had enough excitement and should save something for later. I’d always been that way. When my brothers and sisters had long since finished their Easter or Halloween candy, after gorging away on it for weeks, I’d still have a small stash tucked away for a rainy day.
Now I found the United States, then held the vinyl globe up at shoulder height and moved it slowly in an arc from left to right.
“I can’t see,” Brittany yelled, standing up.
“You will in a minute,” Max Meehan assured her. I smiled at him, turned my head to stare at Brittany until she sat down.
“Today we’re going to learn a game from Australia,” I said. I handed June the globe, just to prove to both of us that I really did like her. “First let’s find Australia.” I waited while June hunted.
“It’s on the bottom, June,” Austin said.
“
Shh
, don’t tell her,” Molly Greene whispered. Molly had come to school that day dressed for the new season in a white fur jacket with a matching muff. She’d taken off the coat but insisted on wearing the muff, which hung on a white velvet cord around her neck. She’d been filling it with assorted items all morning. A black beaded headband, a couple of crayons, her gold bangle bracelets. Right now she was sliding off her patent leathers and trying to stuff them in too. I pretended not to notice.
“Here it is!” June held the globe up in both hands, flipping her shining glory out of her face with a practiced shake of her head. Molly and Amanda McAlpine both imitated the movement, although Molly’s hair flopped back into her eyes and Amanda’s was too short to do much of anything.
I gave June a benevolent smile, without even a hint of
What took you so long?
in it. “Australia is a continent where many animals live. Koalas — ”
Molly stuck her hand up in the air and yelled, “I have a koala bear!”
Jenny’s hand went up. “Not a real koala bear.”
“It is too real.”
Austin jumped in. “Technically,” he began, “koalas aren’t bears — ”
Molly was still waving her hand in the air. “
Mine
is a bear.”
“Technically,” Austin said firmly, “koalas are marsupials.”
“Shut up, Austin. You’re not the boss of knowing everything.”
I made a peace sign, our classroom signal to stop talking, stop fighting. “And in Australia there are also kangaroos, kookaburras, dingoes, and emus.” The children started to giggle. I picked up the pace. “But all of you have probably seen the most important animal in Australia. Sheep. Australians count on sheep for their wool.”
“How do they get the wool off the sheep?”
“With sheep shears. It’s just like getting a haircut,” I answered.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” I assured them.
“How do you know?”
Good question
, I thought. I stood up, walked to the closet, came back with two laundry baskets, two beach balls with cardboard ears glued on them, two Ping- Pong paddles. “You are the sheepdogs,” I announced, “and these are the sheep.” I held the beach balls up. “And these are the sheep pens,” I said, pointing to the laundry baskets. “Your job is to use the paddles to get the sheep to their pens.”
“We get to hit the sheep?” Jack Kaplan asked.
“No, we just pretend we’re going to if they won’t get in,” Austin answered.
I’d have to rethink this game later, but right now I just wanted to finish it so that we could move on to snack. June and I put the kids in two lines, let them take turns whacking the sheep into their pens. I was so grateful that June didn’t utter a word of reproach about the game’s shortcomings that I actually invited her to the symphony with my family. I even said she could bring a date if she wanted to.
“That is just so nice, Sarah. Of course I’ll come. I don’t really have a boyfriend right now, but maybe I’ll think of someone.”
*
I was eating tuna from a can. Dolphin-safe, extra-fancy solid white meat tuna. I’d drained it in the kitchen sink, poured some bottled lemon juice over it, swirled it around for a while, then drained it again. I put a dollop of mayonnaise on a paper plate, grabbed a plastic fork. I found paper towels, tore off two rectangles and tucked them under the plate. I managed to get a glass of milk into the hand that was holding the can of tuna. I carried everything into the living room.