Time of Grace Page 11

  “You asshole! How do you know how I feel?”

  Buddy ground his teeth.

  “I was beautiful and lost it all.” She frowned. “You have no idea…” Holding out her wrists, she showed us that those were not the jagged marks from a windshield’s glass but straight razor cuts that were beautifully stitched into scars. Both wrists had been cut several times. “No idea.”

  “Nasty,” Jim Summerall spoke up. We didn’t see him arrive. He smelled of alcohol, not just from his breath, but from his very pores. Eyes red, he looked loose and disheveled. The glass he carried was a tea glass that was filled with ice and dark liquor, some cheap whiskey, I thought.

  “Screw you,” Colli said, hate filling her eyes. Her husband patted her shoulder, taking her hand in his.

  “So good to see you too, Colli. Hey, Will…David…Bobby,” he spoke to Patsy and Charles, Buddy, and nodded to Arnold and Edward absently. “What’s up?”

  Bobby asked Will to make a drink run. “We’re telling horror stories of how bad our lives have been since high school.”

  “You in the lead for worst?” Jim asked.

  “Dunno, Buddy’s runnin’ close.”

  “I bet Cornelia and Colli think they’ve had it just as bad.”

  I itched to take a punch at him, for some reason. When Grace had been killed, I had hated them all, but now, I wasn’t sure about my feelings.

  “You look like you’re feelin’ no pain.” Bobby pointed out.

  “Well, I’m doing fine as wine,” Jim bragged.

  “Not what I heard,” Colli said gleefully, “I heard you’re on your fifth marriage, keep getting your sorry ass dumped.”

  “Colli,” her husband, Edward, warned.

  She giggled, enjoying herself. “How many jobs you lost now? And didn’t you have a business burn down? Can’t keep a job or a woman. I may drink way too damned much, but I hear you’re a hard core drunk now, Jim.” She slapped her chair with mirth. “And I heard you have that the bad gonorrhea; has it rotted off yet?”

  “You bitch!” He lunged for her, but Will and Buddy were faster, grabbing him as he stumbled.

  Colli was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face. Bobby, for the first time, chuckled.

  “That was ugly, Colleen,” Patsy said, but she hid a smile.

  Taking him outside, Will called him a taxi, and Buddy waited with him. Colli swore it was all true, what she had said, swearing with her hand over her dark heart, and from what I had heard so far, I believed it.

  “What about Walter Kerwin?” I asked.

  “Who? Oh, the guy with Kenny that night?”

  “Oh, those queer guys,” Patsy nodded. “Remember that night?”

  Colli roared in laughter again. “That was something else.”

  “That was a shock,” Bobby agreed, “And poor ole Walter was beaten so bad.”

  “He didn’t deserve that,” I said. “The whole thing may have been embarrassing for them and shocking for us, but it wasn’t something that anyone needed to be beaten nearly to death for.”

  “I dunno, they were so nasty…gross, David,” Colli said.

  “They were good guys, made to feel like shit. Kenny hanged himself, remember? How bad did he have to feel to do that?”

  “We were kids and didn’t know what to do when faced with differences,” Patsy said, “we acted badly.”

  “ And he killed himself because we acted badly. It was just a bad scene all the way around,” I finished.

  “Bernie was so mad,” Colli said.

  Will, returning, caught the end of that conversation. “Poor Kenny. I liked him. I heard that Walter died in ‘Nam…’68 or ’69, I think.” He motioned someone over, “Just a few missing now from the old gang. Look who I found.”

  Chapter 24

  A woman walked over to us with a girl beside her. The woman was gorgeous, hair to her shoulders and brushed back in raven wings, eyes warm chocolate, figure medium-tall, toned but still with soft curves. She wore black satin pants with a black and gold halter top over her peach-sized breasts, a little silver jewelry, and a perfect smile. She was unbelievable. The girl was pretty, too, but not as ripe.

  I appreciated the view but couldn’t place this one.

  She laughed at my confusion, “I didn’t go to high school with you, but I was always with all you.”

  I was flummoxed. Then it hit me. “Jennifer?”

  She threw her arms around me and squeezed. “David.”

  “Look at you; you’re stunning.”

  “Thank you. You look so handsome…wow.” She spoke to each one at the table, giving Patsy and Will quick hugs. This was not the girl I remembered; Jennifer was beautiful now, confident, and classy. The washed-out look, the bad girl persona was all gone. The years had refined her. She reached for the girl. “This is my daughter, Nikki.”

  I could see the resemblance to her mother as the girl smiled shyly, but she also seemed faintly familiar. “ You can’t have a daughter this old,” I said.

  She laughed, “I can and do; she’s seventeen.”

  “Amazing.”

  “ Yes, Nikki is. Nikki, this is David Laramore; you’ve read his books.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Laramore; I like your books,” Nikki said softly with a gentle smile. “I plan to study law because of your books, criminal law.”

  And she’ll do great; she’s an honor student. And here’s my husband, Mike.” Jennifer radiated happiness as he walked over; he was tall, attractive, and well built. “ Mike is a doctor, and I’m a nurse; we live in New Boston .We just stopped by for a second. I wanted to see everyone.” Her husband looked at her and at Nikki as if he worshiped them. It seemed a happy family.

  “You’re going?”

  “Yes, we have other plans.” She said goodbye; I got up and went along with her.

  We walked together, behind her husband and daughter. “Oh, Drat.” She shook her head at her husband as he looked back, “My heel caught; go on, and I’ll be there in a sec.”

  She was holding my shoulder with one hand, grasping her shoe behind her other leg with the other, picking at her pant’s hem in concentration. As soon as they walked out of sight, she put her foot back down; it was a nifty ruse to speak alone. “I wanted a second or two.”

  “It was great to see you.”

  “I came to see if you were here, David. I’m glad you seem healthy and look good. I wanted to be sure and to see with my own eyes.”

  “I’m glad you dropped by and wish you’d stay.”

  “I was praying you’d come this time.”

  “I did.”

  “I don’t want to be rude or cruel, but don’t call or come by or try to see us…okay? While you’re here,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “I mean don’t come see us or contact us at all, please. I don’t want to ruin this good thing in getting to see you. I like you so much and would rather just vanish out the door without us speaking again.” She laughed.

  “Okay…well…”

  “But I want to share something with you; only I intend to never discuss it again. Ever. In fact, I will do anything it takes to keep from ever talking about this again, but I do have to tell you something.”

  “Of, course.”

  “I love Mike and Nikki more than anything, and we’re a strong family, but Mike isn’t Nikki’s daddy, and neither knows.”

  “What?”

  “I’m positive, and oh, he knows, I guess but pretends he doesn’t, but I was already pregnant when I began dating him. He married me, and he’s a good, good man. She’s seventeen. Her name is Nikki.” She repeated that.

  “Okay.”

  “I wanted you to just see her how lovely and innocent and perfect Nikki is. I did something right.” Jennifer gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and darted out the door.

  I stood, my brain confused. What had just happened? I began the puzzle. The time fit. My middle name is Nicholas. The familiarity I noted was because some of Nikk
i’s features, I see in my mirror every day.

  I didn’t tell that part, did I? Maybe it’s mischief on my part, or maybe it’s because it’s the way I need to tell my story, but I did leave something out of the narrative I’ve been telling.

  A year and a half after I returned to college that spring, when I thought I might live after all, I slept with Jennifer. I understood what she had with Bernie and used her to make myself forget Grace for a few hours; she knew what I had with Grace and used me to forget her anger and despair.

  It wasn’t love, but there was a fondness there. It wasn’t tawdry or cheap, but kind, gentle, and healing. She found that sex could be delicate and soothing; I found that I still had a deep passion. There were only a few times, times when we made love, cried a little, laughed a lot, and hoped for a better future.

  That was my secret.

  I never dreamed I had a daughter. It was like being kicked in the stomach. In the men’s room, I splashed cold water on my face and thought about it. I had donated sperm, but Nikki wasn’t my child by my heart. In not telling me, Jennifer had given me the gift of setting me free to grow up, and she had given herself a chance to find love with a good, competent man. Jennifer and Mike were Nikki’s parents.

  I would not contact them. Jennifer trusted me enough to allow me to see that some things/people turn out well. I felt enormous pride. I silently thanked Jennifer for her graciousness. What else I thought or felt would come later when I could sit down alone, sober, and think. Jennifer had become a lovely person.

  I walked back out, assuring Will I was doing fine and sat at the Loser’s table.

  Buddy, back again, was describing how Lorene had a rough time as well; her parents were killed years before in a particularly brutal, bloody Mafia retaliation, or so the gossips said. She found them slaughtered in their home, a reminder that the Dixie Mafia had a long reach, longer memory, and short patience for a member who spoke too freely to the wrong people.

  “Lorene doesn’t talk about it at all; it was a bad time for her, but she goes on kind of like it never happened, but you can see what she went through when you watch her. She’s all nervous energy, always moving and watching, walls built up,” Buddy told us. “She’s friendly and positive, but she’s one of those people who could break at any time, without a moment’s notice.”

  “ Lorene,” he said, “had spent years in a hospital until she was mentally able to face the world again.” “And I think she takes a lot of medication. My wife said she does anyway, and Anne knows and hears things; the prescriptions are all that keep her from diving off a ledge.”

  “So she’s crazy,” Bobby said.

  Colli cackled, “Aren’t we all?”

  I shivered.

  “I guess that’s about everyone,” Bobby said.

  “Yep, but, Bernie Canfield,” Colli pointed out cryptically then turned at the murmuring of people standing and sitting closer to the entrance, “and look, there he is; he’s late.”

  I looked at Will. This was what I had dreaded. All the hard-luck stories were better than facing him again.

  Bernie had arrived.

  Chapter 25

  Bernie, looking about the same but with a few pounds gained, some lines around his eyes, and a tan, grinned widely as he happily walked over. I ignored him as he greeted everyone; my eyes were locked on the woman with him that he introduced as his girlfriend. Under the table, Will kicked me, like a kid would, and I kicked him back. She looked like Grace.

  She was in simple black slacks topped with a silky emerald blouse, her blond hair streamed down her back in a straight waterfall of white, honey, and gold. Her deep green eyes glittered with intelligence. But despite the generics, she had the same look, the wide-open, large eyes, the full lips, a sprinkle of freckles, and the same free, loose look that would have been perfect in California. Surfer.

  ‘I have watched you on the shore, standing by the ocean’s roar.’ I recalled Beach Boys’ lyrics.

  I may have acted as if my life went on without glitches, but that’s another secret. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss Grace or mourn her loss. At night, I dreamed of holding her, of her eyes, of forever with her, and each morning, I was bitter to find it wasn’t real. I didn’t get sane one day and move on; I was still obsessed with my Grace. Moreover, I embraced my obsession. It was all I could do to keep telling myself this was not Grace and not grab the woman with Bernie.

  Her name was Caroline. Her laugh was music.

  I nodded at him when he said hello to me, and I nodded at her, staring into her eyes. I had hated him twenty years before and wasn’t about to let that go. His behavior, so readily forgiven by everyone else, had caused many a lot of misery.

  Charles invited them to join us. Balancing drinks and plates of snacks, the pair sat down with us. They felt welcomed, but I thought he was like a fly invited to spiders’ webs as everyone prepared to suck him dry. It was a table where we stirred trouble in our parlors and saw the worst in one another.

  “What’s going on with everyone?”

  “We’ve been catching up. You missed so much,” Cornelia told him. “Jim Summerall was here but was drunk…as always…and more rude than usual…looking for a fight.”

  “Up Bernie’s alley,” Colli said.

  Cornelia twittered. “See my scars?” She turned her head both ways, enjoying the discomfort she caused.

  “Well, you look beautiful anyway, Cornelia,” Bernie said.

  “You missed my story about ‘Nam and losing my legs, and you missed Buddy’s story about his son getting hurt, and Colli’s story about her abortion.”

  “God, Bobby.” Buddy rubbed his face.

  “And the story about Lu dying, eaten by a ‘gator and Nell hookin' up with Charles Manson.”

  “Bobby!” several gasped.

  “Well, that’s the short version. What was your bad stuff, Patsy? Being fat?”

  “Knock it off, Bobby, or I’ll knock you the hell outta your wheelchair.”

  “That’s harsh, Charles.” Bobby laughed. “Sorry, Patsy.”

  “Well, I am…It’s not dramatic like you all, but Charles and I have had some serious medical problems.” She gently patted Bobby’s hand, “You’re just drunk, mean, and crazy like Colli.”

  Bobby and Colli both howled with mirth.

  “So everyone’s been telling sad stories?” Bernie asked.

  I glanced at him. “We told stories of our failures.”

  “You didn’t have your turn, David.” Colli pointed this out sweetly. “Have you failed, too?”

  “I couldn’t compete,” I quipped.

  Bobby and Colli roared again.

  “I’ll stay quiet. Besides I did my bad time twenty years ago,” I finished. They hadn’t said anything to Will about not telling a sad story, but his was just beginning; he had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I would defend his right to remain silent.

  “Sounds depressing. Think I’ll pass, too,” Bernie said.

  “You might win...come on…give it a try…” Yes, I was being as bitter as Colli now.

  “No way he could. Buddy and I are in the lead.”

  Patsy tried to steer the conversation. “So…weren’t our college years great? What do you all remember about Texarkana College?”

  We remembered the pep rallies, clubs, dances, classes we enjoyed, professors who were great such as Dr. Williams, or bad like a few. We remembered Friday and Saturday nights out cruising the Line, giggling in the library, friends, football games, the drive-in, and the Student Union.

  “And homecoming…I was queen,” Cornelia reminded us.

  Colli caught my eyes; she handed me my line. “Parties at Bernie’s when his parents were out of town,” she said.

  He chuckled.

  “Parties at Bernie’s when he almost beat people to death,” I responded.

  Everyone leaned forward. Bobby looked predatory.

  Carline looked at him quizzically.

  “Remember Walter Kewlin, Berni
e?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why don’t you tell Caroline about that?” Bobby suggested.

  He shrugged. “I had a bad temper back then; I was jealous of Daniel, disgusted ‘cause I didn’t get a scholarship for sports, mad ‘cause of my mediocre grades. I was not in a good place.”

  “Oh, was that why you beat Walter so badly? ‘Cause you had bad grades?” Colli sneered. “Was that why?”

  “What happened?” Caroline asked.

  “We caught some guys doing queer stuff at my party one night, and I lost it, beat the guy pretty badly,” Bernie told Caroline.

  “Queer stuff?” Bobby roared again. “ That’s good, Bernie; did ya have to say it like that? Judge, jury, and almost executioner that night, huh, Bernie?”

  “I was dead wrong.”

  “Walter died in ‘Nam.”

  “I hate that. I wish I could apologize to him.”

  Colli handed me another line; she was good. “Jennifer was here earlier.”

  “That’s Jennifer whom you assaulted,” I added.

  Caroline’s eyes were wide now.

  “I owe her an apology, too.”

  “Like she hasn’t been around for twenty years,” Patsy got her first dig in.

  “I was an ass back then,” Bernie admitted. “I said some of why. I’m not making excuses; I did some really terrible things, used my fists too often. I was angry a lot, and I’m sorry.”

  No one said a word.

  “I met Grace through David back then, and she was amazing, fresh and funny and smart…pretty.” He glanced at Caroline, remembering. “But I think she went out with me just because, not because she ever liked me that much and that burned me up, too. I was pretty much becoming a has-been. I knew it. I was falling apart fast,” Bernie explained, “But before dating Grace in high school, I dated Jennifer. She was a bit wild back then.”

  “Jennifer is beautiful and very classy; she’s lovely, and her family is wonderful…pure class,” Patsy said.

  If Bernie said anything bad about Jennifer, I was going to hit him. If he said anything bad about Grace, I was going to kill him.