Authors: Patricia Watters
"No!"
Andrea said quickly." I don't want them to know anything about...
anything. As far as they know, Jerry and I are happily married and at the
moment cruising the Bahamas while celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding
anniversary, and that's the way I want it. There's time for them to learn that
their parents—"
"Didn't
sleep together the whole damn time?" Jerry said in a calm, even manner
that held a host of undertones—
I'm mad
because I need sex. I put my life on the line for you today and you don't give
a shit. I want you in my bed and you're too damn stubborn to take what you want
too
...
Andrea looked
around at her parents, who were again waiting for her response. Ignoring them,
and refusing to counter Jerry's remark, she replied, "Like I said, I have
to pack." She went into the bedroom and shut the door.
Jerry looked at
the closed door, then at Andrea's parents, and said, "So now you know how
it is. Sorry you had to be dragged into it."
Barbara placed
her hand on Jerry's shoulder. "Midlife isn't an easy time for any
couple," she said. "You've both been getting older for some time by
then, but all of a sudden you're pushing fifty and you begin to look old."
"Andrea
doesn't look old," Jerry countered. "Hell, she looks better now than
she did the day I married her."
Barbara
laughed. "When was the last time you told her?" she asked, coming
around the sofa to sit at the opposite end, and angling her body toward him.
"I didn't
have to tell her," Jerry said. "All she had to do was put on that
swim suit I got her so we could go snorkeling and she knew the moment I looked
at her. It was impossible for me to hide. The woman looks better than most
twenty-year-olds."
"But you
didn't tell her." Barbara insisted.
"No,"
Jerry admitted, "I didn't tell her."
...unless dragging her suit off her and
nailing her to the beach was telling her...
Jerry caught
Barbara and Carter exchanging glances. Carter nodded to Barbara, and she said
to Jerry, "Carter and I went through a little of what you and Andrea are
going through about that time in our lives, and we managed to get through it
just fine."
Jerry started
to argue that they got through it because they didn't lose a son, and they
never knew what it was like to feel so damn guilty for buying him a fast car
that he wanted to die every day of his life, and that it was hell living with a
woman who blamed him every day of her life because she also had a son, who died
because his father didn't have the guts to say to him,
No, you can't have that car!
He took another
sip of whiskey sour, rested his head back against the sofa, and said, in a
weary voice, "It's not like we're the first couple to call it quits
midlife. We did have some good years. And those girls of ours, they don't come
any better." He took another long sip, swallowed, and let out a little
sigh.
Barbara reached
out and placed her hand over his, and said, "I know it's going to be a
difficult day for you and Andrea tomorrow, since it would have been Scott's
eighteenth birthday, but maybe it could somehow be a day of coming together,
for Scott's sake."
"Scott's
dead," Jerry mumbled, then took another long sip of his drink.
"Scott's
still very much alive in many people's hearts. He is in ours," Barbara
said.
Jerry stood
abruptly. "I need to go." He plunked the highball glass on the table
and started for the door.
Carter caught
up with him, placed his hand on Jerry's arm, and said, "Wait!"
Jerry looked at
Carter and waited.
Carter's hand
remained on Jerry's arm, as he said, "It's tough, and I don't know what
I'd do if I were in your shoes, but just for the record, I know all about boys
and fast cars. The only difference between me and Scott is when I flipped my
Corvette when I was his age, it had a roll bar and I walked away. But like
Scott, I was old enough to know that drinking and speeding don't mix. I'm the
real bastard here, Jerry. You didn't kill your boy. It's just a bad
combination, boys and cars. He could just as easily have left the road driving
an old clunker."
"But he
didn't leave the road in a clunker, Carter, he was driving a Dodge Charger with
mags and duel exhausts that I helped him buy."
"Well,
don't be so hard on yourself," Carter said. "Maybe you and Andrea
should call a truce for the day and talk about it."
"Yeah,
like that's going to happen," Jerry said. "In case you haven't
figured it out, Andrea and I don't talk about Scott. Pretty ironic isn't it.
When Scott was alive we never stopped talking about him. Well, arguing would be
a better word."
"Scott's
gone now," Carter said, "so arguing is pointless. But maybe it's time
you and Andrea started actually talking about him. No pointing fingers. Just
talking."
Jerry knew
Carter meant well, but what he was asking was not an option. "Look, sorry
to cut you off," he said, "but I'll handle this in my own way."
Carter patted him
on the shoulder. "Yes, I'm sure you will. And I get the feeling Andrea's
going to handle it in her own way. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you're
both wrong, that there could be another way to handle it?"
Jerry let out a
short, ironic laugh. "Well, if you figure it out, let me know because I
haven't got the damndest idea what to do."
He left and
headed for his bungalow, feeling lonelier than he'd ever felt in his life. For
some reason he thought if he could lay in bed and hold Andrea in his arms, things
would be better. But that's not the way it would turn out if she were with him
tonight. It would be a repeat of the beach, and he'd feel like shit afterwards,
and she'd turn her back to him, and Scott would be hovering between them,
untouchable, unreachable. Silent.
As the Learjet
circled Cat Island before making its final approach to the Old Bight Airport,
Andrea looked down at endless miles of pink sand beaches, and lush green
forests, and a patchwork of farms intermingled with the ruins of cotton
plantations dating back to the 1700s, and saw the crumbling remains of
vine-covered mansions, and the vestiges of stone walls that once penned in
cattle, and the wooden ruins of slave villages. In the bay, where the cruise
ship was docked, were dozens of fishing vessels. Not far from the airport, she
spotted the monastery. Built by an architect turned Catholic-priest, it sat
atop Mount Alverina, the highest point in the Bahamas. She'd read about it in
Frommer's
while on deck the first day,
then forgot about it completely when Alessandro Cavallaro slithered into her
life...
"So, what
do you intend to say to the other passengers about Cavallaro?" Jerry
asked, zeroing in on her thoughts, a heady reminder of how it had once been
with them. But now, Jerry seemed to zero in on the thoughts she didn't want him
to know.
"I don't
plan to say anything," she replied. "There's no reason for anyone to
ask. And I would just as soon shove the whole terrible episode out of my mind,
that is if you'll let me. But I suspect you'll want to rub my nose in it for
the rest of our time together."
Jerry took a
few moments before replying, "I think we both stuck our noses in a couple
of piles of shit we weren't expecting," he said, "so I'd just as soon
forget it too."
Andrea was surprised to hear Jerry admitting
to his brief episode with Val, even if it was a somewhat oblique admission.
"I still plan to stay with Val for the rest of the cruise," Andrea
said, filling in the gap Jerry provided. "Like you said, we don't need a
repeat of what happened on the beach. But you may have to explain to a few
people why you happened to stay behind with me. When we left the ship, you and
I were a couple of singles, me with Alessandro, and you... not showing up at
the fire dance. And now we're returning together. Which makes me curious. Why
did you stay with me?"
Jerry eyed her,
brows drawn, and said, "Maybe to save you from yourself. Maybe to protect
the mother of my girls. Maybe because I still—" he cut his own words off
and shrugged. "I don't know. I just did."
The wheels
touched down with a squeal, and a shortly after, the jet came to a nose-dipping
halt. Andrea wondered if Jerry had been about to say he still loved her. If so,
she wouldn't be hearing it now, because he had already left the seat and was
standing at the door, ready to leave the plane as soon as the stairs dropped
down.
For some
reason, she expected him to excuse himself as soon as he stepped on the tarmac.
Instead, he waited for her and her parents to join him. Her father patted him
on the shoulder and said, "You two have three more days to get it all
together."
Jerry avoided
the remark by glancing at the jet, and replying. "Thanks for the ride,
Carter. Maybe I should get myself one of those little toys someday."
"Maybe so,"
Carter replied. But there was a definite edge to his tone, Andrea noted.
An odd turn of
events, her father lobbying for them to stay together.
Addressing her
father, while ignoring Jerry's pointed stare telling her to let her father's
remark pass, she said, "Jerry and I will try to make the most of the time
we have left." She looked at Jerry then, and said, "In fact maybe we
should join the tour that the cruise line scheduled to the monastery in about
an hour."
Jerry let out a
muffled grunt, and said nothing.
"Honey,"
her mother said, "for the girls' sakes, you and Jerry enjoy the days you
have left. Think back on the good times and put aside the troubling times, and
make this day special." She avoided mentioning that this day would have been
Scott's birthday, just as she and Jerry had been avoiding the subject ever
since they joined their parents for breakfast at the resort before flying to
Cat Island. But at some point between now and when the day was done, they would
read the letters from the girls. But she wanted to put it off as long as
possible.
"I'll get
a taxi," Jerry said. He gave Barbara a hug, shook Carter's hand, and
headed toward a cab waiting on the edge of the tarmac.
Andrea sighed
and looked from one parent to the other. Settling on her father, she said,
"Thanks for coming, Daddy. You were quite wonderful out there in the bush.
Maybe when I get back you can tell me what happened with you and Jerry."
Carter smiled
and said, while hugging her, "I learned you married a good man. Don't be
too quick to let him go."
"Things
are as they are. But I'll keep an open mind."
She hugged her
mother, but before her mother let go, she said to Andrea, "Think of the
girls, honey. Breaking up the home where they grew up will also break their
hearts."
"I know, Mother,"
Andrea replied, "but thanks for caring." She released her mother and
went to join Jerry in the cab.
As she settled
next to him, Jerry said to her, "We could have flown back with them. It
seems pointless to continue this charade."
"Not
completely pointless," Andrea said. "One good thing came of it. You
and my father are talking like normal people. In fact, you actually seem to
like each other."
"He's
okay," Jerry said, and offered nothing more.
Andrea was
tempted to ask what took place to make things okay, but the last thing she
wanted was to relive anything that happened in the jungles of Andros Island, or
on the cruise ship, or on the beach. "It'll make things better when we're
at family occasions," she volunteered.
Jerry looked at
her like she'd lost touch with reality. "What family occasions?"
"Well,
maybe Christmases... at my folk’s house. You could be there with the girls and
their families now. I'm sure you and I could endure one day a year together.
And maybe Easter too. And the children's birthdays. And maybe my father would
come to the lake house now. We could surely get along for a couple of weeks a
year to do that."
"Yeah,
well, maybe I should just move into one of those suites at your parent's house,
now that we're all buddies," Jerry said, with irony.
"Not
permanently," Andrea said, as if Jerry had made a valid suggestion.
"But you could visit there some, so you and my dad could build a kind of a
father-son relationship."
"Right,"
Jerry clipped. "And while we're fantasizing, maybe you and I could get
together once a week, at either your place or mine, so we could nail each other
to the bed."
"Would
that be so bad?" Andrea asked, wishing that was what they were doing right
now, not what Jerry suggested, but what they once had, the romps, the passionate
love, the tender moments afterward, before they'd fallen into the pointless
diatribe that seemed to be a constant in their lives now.
Jerry let out a
short guffaw. "Which are you referring to? Me staying with your folks so I
could be daddy's little spoon-fed-prince, or us nailing each other to the
bed?"
"Why are
you doing this?" Andrea asked.
"Doing
what?" Jerry replied, while looking out the cab window, his way of
shutting her out when she was trying to initiate something. Anything but what
was happening.
"Ruining
the one thing that was special about our marriage," Andrea said.
"If you're
talking about sex," Jerry replied, "I couldn't tell it by you over
the past couple of years because whenever I got the urge you curled up in bed
with your back to me."
Andrea folded
her arms. "Well you certainly can't claim I had my back to you on the
beach."
"I don't
want to talk about the beach," Jerry snapped. "It makes me horny for
all the wrong reasons, and I don't think you want me nailing you to this seat
right now."
"Fine!"
Andrea clipped. "Let's just pretend I didn't try to initiate a
conversation for the duration of this taxi ride, and I won't bring up doing it
again. But it is a bit ironic that you're the one turning your back to me
now."