The Jewel Box (14 page)

“Can we go to the playground?” Nikki asked.

“Jump on my shoulders.” Sean crouched down.

“Have fun.” I waved to the duo, envisioning a thirty minute nap for
moi
.

On July 1st, New York state made abortion a matter between a woman and her doctor, which generated mixed feelings nationwide, and conversation over dinner at my place. Nikki excused herself, likely to sneak into
my perfume. More of Delilah’s influence showing up on our turf. Sean and I began discussing birth control pills and beliefs of the Catholic Church when Gabriel interjected, “Hell, I think the pill is great. Its primary side effect is promiscuity, and I’m all for that.” He raised his eyebrows Groucho style.

“There’s nothing worse than a fallen Catholic, except perhaps a fallen Lutheran.” I flashed Sean a smile.

Gabriel crisscrossed his knife and fork on his plate, and said with a precise pinch of gravitas, “I’m not a fallen Catholic. I have strong morals and I’m still religious.” He leaned back in his chair. “Just not to the point of human sacrifice—like some people.”

“You having a serious conversation in the presence of another male is about as likely as my mother talking sex with me.” I tossed a dinner roll on his plate. “Here, amuse yourself.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and your parents?” Sean rested his arm on the table.

“Now there’s some serious conversation.” Gabriel grinned.

I challenged his grin with a wicked arched eyebrow, and then turned to younger brother. “My ‘atypical job’ and the stigma attached to living with Gabriel caused me to distance myself from my parents. Ya know,
Don’t tell my mother I’m living in sin,
” I began.

“
Don’t let the old folks know,
” Sean chimed in.

“
Don’t tell my twin I had breakfast on gin,
” we finished in unison. “
He’d never survive the blow.
”

“A.P. Herbert,” Sean informed.

“Ah, that’s the author.” I was impressed by Sean’s literary knowledge, but mostly by him revealing his sensitive side to his brother. “Anyway, I’m living a necessary lie, if such a thing exists. But Gabriel’s compassion somewhat helps alleviate my guilt.”

Seeming embarrassed about me calling him compassionate in his brother’s presence, Gabriel shifted. “Let me know when you two conclude your poetry spouting session, and I’ll offer praise with a heartfelt burp.”

“Very funny,” I scoffed. “Better bring that humor to bed tonight so you can entertain yourself in lieu of romance.”

“At least I add spice to y’all’s conversations.” Gabriel sauntered into the living room.

“Puuleeese, Jacy Nicole.” I fanned my face as Nikki returned smelling like a mix of my Guerlain perfumes. She sat on Gabriel’s lap to watch TV. Sean and I jumped into a discussion about women’s rights, followed by the civil rights movement and senseless deaths at Kent State. Sharing his concern about America’s declining morality, Sean talked about how virtues were instilled way back around 8000 BC when hunters/gatherers first organized grain growing communities to embed family and civic values.

“Family values and civic virtues, my ass.” Gabriel interrupted from the living room. “I’ll guaran-damn-tee you, the only reason they grew grain was to brew barrels of beer.”

“Watch your mouth, please,” I said.

“Sorry. Better let Sean entertain Nikki now.” Gabriel walked over and hugged me, his body scented with French perfume. “We can do dishes and discuss biology and anatomy.”

Gabriel had yet to spend the night with his summer guest, but I let him know how impressed I was by his younger brother.

“He used the term ‘balls’ today, but compared to you he’s ready for sainthood.”

“Boy, he fooled you.” Gabriel dried a glass. “Foul words will soon be runnin’ nonstop from his mouth, cause he’s as vulgar minded as me. Hell, he’s only working to pay for hookers when he gets back to Boston.”

Detecting a twinge of jealousy, I goaded. “That boy would never have to pay. He oozes charisma.”

“Hey, what about me?”

“Vulgarity is not charismatic, my friend.”

As Nikki spread way too much butter on her pancakes, she pouted her lips, looked across the table, and woefully whined, “Mommy, why does Sean have to go faraway on a plane? I’m gonna miss him.”

“
Going to
miss him,” I corrected. “And so am I, but he’s been here for months and needs to get back to school.”

“Can’t he go to school here?”

“I guess he could, but don’t you think his family misses him, and wants him home?”

“But I want him to stay, Mommy.”

“Well he can’t.” I kissed her tiny nose and forehead, sharing her sentiment. “So stop pouting and put your energy into drawing a picture for him to take home.”

“Okay Mommy.” She took a sip of milk from her glass. “And I’m gonna . . . I mean ‘going to’ draw lots of pictures for him to hang on walls at his house.”

“Let’s limit your art work to one picture for his suitcase. Okay?” I retied her hair ribbon.

“Only one? He’ll miss me so much I’ve got to draw a zillion pictures to send him.”

“Please don’t plunge into one of those Crayola frenzies like you did when you were young.”

“Mommy, I’m still young.” She swung her bouncy ponytail. “And you’re silly.”

“So are you. Now, let’s freshen up before Gabriel and Sean get here. No one likes grubby bye bye kisses.”

“Pancake syrup kisses are not grubby,” she said while washing her face.

There are certain people who cross your path and from the instant you meet, you know that even if you never see them again, a distinguishable mark will remain forever. Sean was a peaceful soul whose heart was filled with so much unconditional love, positive belief and good intent, he was contagious. The summer of ‘70 had passed much too quickly. Sean, Nikki, and I shed lots of tears while Gabriel frowned. “Stop the damn lachrymose goodbyes.”

We cried harder. “You are the most melodramatic threesome in Houston. Now get your ass in the truck, Sean, ‘cause I’m not waiting around the airport with you if we miss this flight.” Gabriel tossed Sean’s luggage into the truck. I swear his eyes were misty.

Nikki missed Sean’s piggy back rides and story book readings, and I missed his cheerful attitude and our long talks. She drew pictures and I wrote letters. We also kept in touch via Ma Bell, and during one of our
frequent calls, Sean put their mom Gloria on the phone insisting she and I get to know each other. Gloria was pleasant. I was stuttering nervous. What do you say to a mother when you’re sleeping with her married son?

Our calls subsided when Sean got busy with school and I returned to my hectic schedule trying to stash away money so I could someday quit. My inner conflict about working at the Jewel Box grew daily and it was obvious Gabriel detested my being there. He rarely stopped by, and when he did the conversation always turned to me “getting the hell out of that den of iniquity.” His divorce had catapulted to a grueling, bitter stage, and he was paying an exorbitant amount of child support and maintenance. Instead of quality time between him and his girls, visitation degenerated into arguments when Astrid threatened to move near her parents in Phoenix. The constant turmoil and thoughts of having his daughters taken so far away to live near maternal grandparents who despised him, sickened Gabriel. My heavier work load and his crazy divorce proceedings led to less time together.

In a matter of weeks my world went upside down. Delilah had apparently sent her accountant/musician husband off to work with soup-in-a-baggie for lunch one time too many (she said he left her bowls at work), because they were divorcing. And her desire to work a nine-to-five job with the possibility of meeting men far outweighed her desire to babysit. Then Mother called. “Kent’s living in Houston again and wants to see Nikki.”

“Pleeease! The guy who thought parenting ended at conception and never paid a lick of child support, suddenly wants to see his daughter?” Things were chaotic enough in my life without a visit from Father Fantastic. “Tell him you can’t reach me.”

Tension took a toll on me and after a week of jittery nerves, teary outbursts, and gaining ten pounds almost overnight, during a regular doctor visit came the discovery that Miss Tilted Uterus was pregnant. No nausea or vomiting, and in less than six weeks I gained more weight than during my first four months with Nikki. Either the doctor who theorized my pregnancy chances as one in a million was a total quack, or Gabriel and I had hit that magic number. Thrilled about having his child, but aware of his mammoth support and maintenance payments, I delayed the news.

“Hello,” Nikki said to the young girl who walked into our complex laundromat.

“Hi there, precious,” the girl answered in mellifluous voice.

“You’re pretty.” Nikki looked up at her. “What’s your name?”

“Rachel.” She smiled. With rings on several fingers, a flower in the braid of her long, chocolate colored hair, and a gauzy, flowing dress that fell only inches above her leather anklet, Rachel looked like she might have celebrated her eighteenth birthday at Woodstock.

“Do you live here?” Nikki prodded.

“We just moved in. I’m a newlywed.”

Nikki kept asking questions, while I glanced at Rachel’s “I do ironing” note she tacked on the bulletin board inches from my sitter request. She needed extra money. “Do you ever babysit?”

“No, but I adore tending my nieces and nephews.”

“Do you think there’s any way you could watch Nikki until I find a permanent sitter? Nurseries close at six p.m. and I work nights.”

“I’d love to.” Rachel’s face lit up. “We’re waiting awhile before having our own.”

Within days, Nikki was in love with her new sitter. Having a maternal warmth Delilah lacked, Rachel took Nikki to the playground and read to her every day (a big contrast to Nikki’s former entertainment, which consisted of Delilah attempting to fart Sam and Dave’s hit song
Soul Man
). And Rachel made sure Nikki ate home cooked meals. Delilah’s cooking consisted of Chef Boyardee and other dishes requiring only a can opener. Nikki didn’t seem to miss chocolate donuts and Pepsi for breakfast. Rachel also worked on ironing out a few negative traits Nikki picked up from Delilah—like sneaking perfume without permission.

I was cooking smothered pork chops when Sean called, and didn’t realize we’d talked for thirty minutes about his return to Texas until dinner became a bit beyond well done. When Gabriel got home to blackened pork chops, I handed him the phone. Sean dropped hints about returning and
working full-time after graduation, but Gabriel skirted the issue. After five minutes of Nikki and me quietly circling him and begging him to bring Sean back to Texas, Gabriel whispered to me, “I don’t want Sean in the middle of this messy divorce. He’ll have to wait until things settle down.”

“Whispering is impolite,” Nikki promptly informed.

The probability of things settling down seemed slim. One week after discovering I was pregnant, Gabriel learned Astrid had filed a continuance to delay their divorce. It might be ages before things got finalized. Every night I dreamed of having a blond haired, blue eyed baby boy, but couldn’t find the right time to break the news to Gabriel.

Mother called again. “Kent’s angling to establish visitation rights and child support payments so he can see Nikki.”