A Way to Get By (15 page)

CHAPTER 27

And So It Goes

EDDIE

Friday, December 24

1982

T
he wedding ceremony was a simple affair at the county courthouse.

   Maxine wore a pink suit that made her look like Jackie Kennedy, and I was dressed in a new black Armani she’d picked out for me. I looked damn good in the thing, but it still felt like I was wearing a costume. I had a strange desire to slip back into my old, gray number. I’d broken it in over the years. Made it mine. That’s the thing about a well-worn suit. It may have been outdated, but it was comfortable.

   She’d also brought me to her “stylist” and I was sporting a new, shorter head of hair. The length had been considerably cropped as the years went by, but this new cut was practically a buzz. I felt bald, but I looked good.
The times they are a’changin’.

   After the madness with my ex-wife back in September, I’d thrown myself into my relationship with my new girlfriend. It was as though I had walked away from that encounter as a new man. Cut off. Separated not only from my ex-wife, but from my past self.

   I thought I’d clearly proven to Maxine that I was fully invested in our relationship, and until then, I hadn’t even realized how much of myself I’d been holding back. I doted on her after that night, gave her my undivided attention, gave a hundred percent.

   She definitely noticed, and things had been different between us ever since. Better.

   I proposed only one short week later, and we were married the next day. Truth be told, I couldn’t quite believe she had accepted my proposal as early as she had. It’s not like I even asked her flat-out if she wanted to marry me; it was more of a suggestion. A testing-the-waters thing. I just turned to her one day and asked, “What would you say to the two of us getting married?” Maxine took my hypothetical question seriously, and before I knew what was happening, we were standing in front of a Justice of the Peace.

   We spent our honeymoon in Vienna and the next few months being unbelievably polite to one another. I was good at being her husband. Brought her coffee every morning; ran her errands with her; held her bags while she shopped. And holy crap could that woman shop. After tennis, it was her favorite activity. I’d started to display some decent tennis skills myself. For a guy who’d never played the game before, I picked it up pretty quickly.

   Earlier today, I actually won my first match against her. We were presently celebrating my victory with a couple of Chipwiches as we sat on the floor next to our Christmas tree.

   “Mmm. These are so good!” Maxine said as she ran her tongue over her lips.

   I was actually getting a little turned on, watching as she licked the last of her ice cream. It was strange. I never thought I’d ever be attracted to anyone but Brenda. But Maxine helped me to see very clearly that that wasn’t the case. I happened to find my new wife
extremely
attractive. Plus, she was fun. And caring. And rich.

   Her money afforded us a lifestyle I had never even allowed myself to dream about. I finally started to understand Brenda’s point of view all these years. Having money just made everything so much
easier
. When you didn’t have to constantly worry about where your next meal was coming from, it left a lot of free time for straight-up
living
. And Maxine sure as hell knew how to live.

   She also knew how to torment me because I’m quite sure she was well-aware of what she was doing to me with that ice cream.

   “
So
good,” I teased back. I ran my tongue up the side of my Chipwich, tossing a devilish wink at my wife.

   That made her laugh as she gave me a shove. “You’re a scoundrel, Wilson Edwards.”

   I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “In more ways than you’ll ever know.”

   That stopped her giggling as her expression turned serious. “Well,” she slithered, dropping to her hands and knees in front of me. She crawled the few inches over to take the last bite of my ice cream, her lips sucking at my fingertips. Her eyes met mine to finish her sentence. “Who says I don’t want to find out?”

   She didn’t need to ask me twice. I pounced on her, rolling the both of us across the white shag.

  
It was seriously shaping up to be the best Christmas I’d had in years.

CHAPTER 28

A Room of Our Own

BRENDA

Sunday, July 4

1976

I
didn’t know why everyone always said the first year of marriage was the hardest. Eddie and I had been having a blast.

   We’d gotten ourselves a new apartment right in the same building as my old one. Not the greatest neighborhood in Hackensack but I was already used to living there. The apartments on the second floor were a little nicer than the ones on the first, and as it turned out, we were living almost directly over Aunt Judy’s old place. It had miles of plush, deep-pile, green carpet, and the kitchen was to die for.

   Most importantly, it was
ours
.

   Since it was so near the downtown, we didn’t even need to leave our living room window to watch the bicentennial celebration happening right around the corner on State Street. Which was a good thing, because neither one of us wanted to leave our air-conditioned apartment.

   Even with the AC at full blast, the early-evening heat was positively brutal. The sun was still blaring mercilessly through our front window, asserting itself against the wimpy gust of Freon seeping out of the air conditioning vents. I’d put my long hair into two pigtails, just to keep it from sticking to the back of my neck. Eddie kept saying I looked like Paula from
The Magic Garden
, and that yes, that was a very good thing. I couldn’t even be mad about his hands all over me all day, even though having him hanging on me wasn’t exactly helping to stave off the heat.

   I’d picked up a couple of paintings from Sears and was balancing on a step ladder as I hung them over the stereo cabinet. I’d just finished installing a hook on the ceiling, the perfect spot to suspend my macramé plant holder. I’d made it myself at a free class at the church. Virginia was so happy I agreed to go with her that she bought me a fern to put in it. It looked fantastic next to our wicker bookshelf.
Eddie had appointed himself Minister of Knickknacks, so he was busy filling the shelves with all our stuff: The small
Thinker
statue we’d received at our wedding, a couple of framed photos, and the few books we owned outright.
Every day, Eddie and I were getting closer to turning the place into a real home.

  
Our
home.

 
I’d lived on my own for years, but having Eddie for a roommate sometimes made it feel as though we were playing a game of house. A really, really fun game of house.

   “The one on the right is lower, babe.”

   I had just placed the second painting on the nail when my husband offered his unsolicited assessment.

   “No,” I argued. “No way. I measured!”

   I came down off the ladder and stepped back a few paces to see for myself.

   Shoot. He was right.

   “Crap! How did that happen? I planned it all out beforehand, and now they’re crooked!”

   Eddie came over to put an arm around my waist. “Aww, you tried. Don’t worry. We can fix it.”

   “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I busted. “Maybe you should divorce me and find a wife who knows how to decorate.”

   That made him chuckle. “Maybe I should take you up on that. Hmmm. You think Lynda Carter is good with color?”

   I smacked him for that.

   He laughed as he grabbed my wrist with his free hand, tightening the hold around my middle as he pulled me toward him for a kiss. We were still smiling as our mouths met, but we both turned serious once he laid us down on the rug.

  
We’d pretty much had sex in every inch of our apartment already, but I could tell from the first moment Eddie touched me that this wasn’t going to be just
sex
tonight.

  
His hand cupped my jaw, pulling my face to his in a kiss so tender, I thought we’d both fall apart. We couldn’t ever seem to get enough of each other. Our entire life together was lived at a level of intensity that for other people, would be impossible to maintain. But that’s just how we were: Full steam ahead. One hundred percent. Love big; live large. When I really allowed myself to think about it, it was almost overwhelming.

   That was the thing about Eddie: He could love me and break my heart all at the same time.

  
We peeled each other’s clothes off, sticky and soggy, the cool air from the AC breezing across our damp skin and providing a brief moment of relief. Eddie flattened my wrists to the floor and lowered his mouth to my collarbone. His lips danced over my shoulder and branded my neck as he trailed kisses along my skin, his voice already hoarse with need as he requested, “Tell me you love me.”

   I closed my eyes, breathless as I complied. “I do. I love you, Eddie.”

   His palm slid up my side and across to my breast. “Tell me how much you need me.”

   My skin was on fire, more from Eddie’s touch than the heat of the day. I arched my back to meet his hand, scraping my fingernails over his shoulder blade. “More than anything.”

  
He pressed his hips against mine, already hard, but holding off, waiting. “I need you too, Bren. Now.
Bad
.”

  
The look on his face was pure longing. Half-lidded eyes staring right through me,
slack lips quivering as he fought for restraint. I loved when he held out like this. From past experience, I knew that he could do so indefinitely. I knew he planned on exploring every inch of my body—teasing me into oblivion in the process—before he would ever allow the focus to shift to himself. He always made a point to let me know how much he truly wanted me, made me feel like the only woman in the world to have such an effect on him.

   I felt the same way about him.

   Nobody loved me like Eddie did.

* * *

   We were still trying to catch our breath as we lay on the floor, two sweaty heaps of panting, sated flesh. I swiped a hand over my damp hair as Eddie let out with a contented sigh and interlaced his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, fairly pleased with himself.

  
The light filtering into the room through the window had gone hazy, finally easing away from a blinding white as it turned into a soft amber glow.
I was exhausted, but it was barely eight o’clock. Too early to call it a night.
“We should shower and get dressed to go down to the field. It’s almost dark and the fireworks are going to start soon.”

   He raised his head to cock an eyebrow at me. “Baby. You trying to tell me you didn’t
just see them?
”

   He rolled on top of me and I giggled underneath him, causing him to fight against the smile that attempted to escape from his lips.

   He shook his head in mock disappointment before he met my eyes with his own. “I’m a little insulted, here.”

CHAPTER 29

Keeping the Faith

EDDIE

Friday, February 18

1983

I
was stuck in a funk all morning.

   I really tried to forget what day it was but after thirteen years, remembering my ex-wife’s birthday was a hard habit to break. Plus, I’d just come across an old picture of the two of us. I had pulled my copy of
The Love Machine
from my nightstand drawer, and the
Polaroid just slipped out and landed at my feet. I picked it off my shoe, taking note of its aged and browned edges, staring at the image of those two, stupid kids.

  
It made me smile, and I couldn’t help offering a wish to the woman smiling back at me:
I hope you’re well, Bren.

   As that thought filled my brain, the strangest calm washed over me. Brenda’s words came back to me in that moment:
You’re going to have to find a way to get through this. You need to find a way to be happy.

   And suddenly, I realized that I was
at peace
with this whole thing. I finally got it. I finally understood. I knew it was alright to make my marriage with Maxine a good one for as long as it lasted; it was alright to give myself permission to be happy.

   That didn’t mean I had to forget how much I loved Brenda, and it didn’t mean I’d ever stop. The kids in that picture were just too young and naïve to know what was ahead of them. They did the best they could with the hand that they were dealt. Our marriage hadn’t turned out the way we planned but I didn’t need to keep blaming myself for it.

   And just like that, in that unexpected moment, I knew everything was going to be okay. It was okay to just let my life play out the way it was meant to, making the best of things as I went along. It’s what Brenda had been trying to get me to understand for months, and now I finally appreciated that she’d been right.

   I tucked the picture back in the book and brought it downstairs to join my wife.

   Maxine chirped around her new library as she unloaded the endless boxes of books. She’d purchased hundreds of classic titles from some mail-order club, and she was currently arranging them
by color
on her new shelves. She wasn’t much of a reader but I think the idea was that a library full of leather-bound volumes would create an intellectual air around her, giving any visitors the false impression that she was well-read.

   Don’t get me wrong; my wife was far from stupid. I just found it interesting that she seemed to present herself to Society with the same smoke and mirrors as I did.

   Even considering her supposed reasoning, I didn’t see the point of owning books simply for their aesthetic value. Books were made to be
read
.

   I’d been occupying a brown leather couch in the corner, out of her way, and fighting a monster of a headache. She barely registered that I was in the room, even as she absently tossed the occasional question or comment my way.

   “Have you ever read this one?” she asked.

   I’d been silently brooding at the snow piling up outside the bay window but looked up at the sound of her voice. She was holding up a copy of
The Count of Monte Cristo
.

  
“Yes. When I was twelve.”

   She inspected the unblemished binding in her hands. “I always meant to read it. Is it any good?”

   “Very,” I answered, offering a strained smile.

   She gave a shrug before placing it next to the other
greens
.

   She didn’t engage in much conversation after that, but I would catch her occasional glance in my direction out the corner of my eye. Every time I felt her looking my way, I would smile and toss out a lazy platitude: “Looking good, hon” or “It’s really coming along.” My efforts placated her for a solid thirty minutes, until finally, she was tasked with requesting my assistance.

   “I need some help with the high ones. Do you mind?”

   I got to my feet immediately. “Of course not.”

   I was uncharacteristically quiet as I went about my assigned duties, arranging a section of
blues
on the top shelf.

   Maxine noticed. “Why have you been so mopey all morning?” she finally asked.

   I considered coming up with a story but then dismissed the idea. “Honestly?”

   “No. Lie to me.”

   I let out a slight chuckle before answering her. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted all day. It’s Brenda’s birthday.”

   I tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal but my wife’s eyes immediately turned to slits as she stared me down in contempt. “Your
ex?
That’s what’s got you so hot and bothered?”

   “I’d hardly say I was—”

  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

   I could only look at her in disbelief. “Maxine. What is this? Why are you so angry?”

   She whirled on me, throwing her hands in the air. “Why am I so
angry?
Are you serious?
Are you serious?
Eddie! I’ve given you everything. I’ve given you
me!
And yet, after an entire year together—after a
wedding
—you still can’t seem to elevate me off that second rung! I’m
angry
because you don’t love me. You’ve only ever loved
her!
”

   I’d never seen her that mad before. Maxine was always so
composed
. I was stunned and speechless… and a little turned on, if I’m going to be honest. I never knew she had such fire inside her.

   The timing of her outburst was rather ironic, however. Not one hour before, I’d started to feel some real promise in regards to this marriage, started to envision a happiness that could continue indefinitely.

   I watched the air drain from her body as her shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the wall, defeated. Her eyes met mine in anguish, and seeing her so distraught actually caused a physical ache in my chest. The pain only intensified when she said, “Maybe we jumped in too soon. You’re clearly not ready to be married to me. Maybe we can get this annulled.”

   It was way too soon for this marriage to be unraveling. A panic gripped me at the thought that she wanted to end things after only five months.
Annulled
. Unacceptable.

   I thought I was past the obsession with my ex-wife but I guessed I hadn’t given Maxine everything she needed to feel good about marrying me. She was such an unbelievable woman; it was unfair of me to hold back that piece of my heart, the piece Brenda took over years ago.

   “Maxine, I’m crazy about you. I don’t ever want you to feel second
rate
just because you’re my second
wife
. You’re generous and kindhearted—” I stepped behind her and slipped my arms around her waist, whispering the next part against her ear,
“—and incredibly, undeniably sexy.”

   Her muscles relaxed as she melted into me, her voice soft as she confessed, “It just hurts me, Eddie.”

  
Ouch
. God, I was such a prick. Was nothing beneath me? I squeezed her a little tighter, ran my nose against her hair. “I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t like to see you so sad. Can you forgive me?”

   That seemed to pacify her. More importantly, it brought a smile to her face. “No.”

   Her answer allowed the both of us to chuckle. I turned her in my arms and planted a soft kiss on her welcoming lips, defusing the last of our fight. She felt good against me. Her soft hair tickled against my chin; her familiar perfume wafted in the air between us.

   An unspoken understanding was reached that afternoon:
I had landed on the easiest way to make Maxine happy, and she learned to start believing in me.

  
I never mentioned Brenda’s name out loud to my wife again.