Breakdown Lane, The (31 page)

“You did this yourself?”

“I hate, you know, single guys with white walls and navy blue furniture….”

“I do, too, but how do you do all this?”

“Listen, I have one kid in college. I didn’t plan that. Even with doctor’s hours, that leaves a lot of time on your hands. You decorate a house. You take piano lessons. I don’t know. Suzie and I traveled. I never felt…I always wanted another child. I still do. Don’t laugh. People do it all the time at our age.”

“I’m not laughing. I have a three-year-old. People think I’m insane.”

“Do you want tea?”

I nodded.

“Y’know what Brits call the tea they take at four o’clock? Solace. Isn’t that kind of cool?”

“I like it. It sounds like another word I like. My parents were sort of Episcopalian. Vespers. I liked that word.”

We drank the tea as the light outside sank and the lights in Matt’s house, and outside, among the trees, obviously on a timer, rose in mellow increments. “When are the guests coming?” I asked. “I want to lie down, maybe take a shower. If you can show me where I’ll be sleeping?”

He led me down a short hall to a room with a bed I knew I’d need a three-step ladder to climb onto. I meant only to lie there for a moment, but when I woke, the room was black. Despite myself, I called out, “Help!” And I could feel, smell, Matt beside me, his clean woody scent, within a moment. “I’m sorry. It was so dark. I thought my eyes were acting up.”

“Does that happen much?”

“It used to.”

“Not now.”

“No.”

“Can you see down the hall?” I could see candlelight, immaculate cloths on the shining table, and as my senses returned, coming alight one by one, I could smell the aroma of garlic, roasted.

“Are people here?” I whispered. “I have to dress….”

“Take your time,” he said. “No rush.”

He turned on the lights, in the bathroom—the tub actually did have steps—and left me alone. I bathed carefully, finger-brushed the silly short hair for which I’d come to have a rough affection, and put on my soft black dress. I brushed the color across my nose and applied lipstick that barely had any color, best for older women, the girl at the drugstore said. I looked good. Now, my shoes. I opened my shoe bag. Running shoes. Boots. I sat down on the bed, ready to weep. I could see them, exactly where they were now, on my desk chair, each of them in its own little cotton bag. “Matt!” I called. There was music on. Something soft, old. Julie London. Funny guy. “Matt!” I couldn’t hear him excuse himself from a conversation, but he was carrying a bottle of wine when he came to my door. “I forgot my shoes.”

“You’re just this…sweet, delicate—”

“Be quiet! I don’t want anyone to hear us! I can’t walk out there in my stockings!”

“Oh, but you can, unless your feet are cold.”

“What will your guests think?”

“The whole party’s here,” he said.

“But you sent me an invitation.”

“You’re the party,” he said. “Come on.” The table was set for two. Pasta waited for a simmering peppery sauce. He’d filled my wineglass, exactly half.

I stood on the tiles. There was nothing I could think of to say.

Matt said, “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. And I’m not scared. Don’t get me wrong. I can’t think of the word for what I am.”

“Shocked?”

“No.”

“You think I’m an asshole?”

“No,” I began to laugh. “
No,
I don’t think you’re an asshole. You’re not the class nerd, Matt; you’re a catch.”

“I’ve waited thirty years to take Julieanne Gillis to dinner. I wanted to do it up right.”

“Don’t get all, you know, funny. No, I mean defensive.”

“I’m not.”

“Is everything ready?”

“It’s a dish, okay, look, it’s the only dish I can make. It can sit here all night while we talk and it’ll still taste the same. We can have some cheese, first.”

“I was thinking you’d show me the rest of the house.”

“Okay!” he said heartily, putting down the wine. The staircase that rose like a wave out of the front foyer had, I counted, seventeen steps. I looked at Matthew. “Julie, let me help,” he said.

“I’m not a teeny-weeny woman, Matt.”

“But I’m not five one anymore, honey.” The “honey” about did it. Something splintered, and I began to cry.

“What did I do?”

“You called me honey.”

“What, I didn’t mean anything—”

“No, I mean, I felt so, I don’t know, cherished. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.” As I said it, I realized that I meant a
long
time, as in
years
. And so he carried me up all those seventeen steps, without having to stop and pant. Down the hall to his room where he lay me down gently on the bed.

“I have to tell you, this disease, it’s about nerve endings, Matt. It takes forever for me…”

“That’s what I was hoping,” he said.

I woke up alone in Matt MacDougall’s massive bed, and began to laugh wildly. He hadn’t heard me, because he nearly dropped the coffee mugs he’d carried up when he got to the door and saw me kicking my feet and howling.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve spent the past year selling my clothes and feeling like something wet that crawls along the edge of walls, like I’d never see the sun. Now, I’m sitting here in the mansion built by my eighth-grade dance partner. I slept with you, and we made love and it worked, Matt! I never thought I’d do that again!”

“Do you always wake up this happy?” he asked, flopping down in his (blue-and-white) sweats.

“No, sometimes, I wake up terrified that I’m not going to be able to see out of my left eye that day. Or knowing I’m going to have to take my shot. And always by myself. Unless Rory’s on the end of the bed. But the next time I do that, I’m going to, you know, I’m going to remember last night. Because it was mine, Matt. I want to thank you for giving me this wonderful morning.”

“Julie,” he said.

“I’m not crazy, Matt. I just want to thank you.”

“But are you hungry?”

“Oh, we forgot to eat! Your pasta. All that work. My half glass of wine!”

“I got up and put it away. We can have it tonight. You were out like a light!”

“Uh, satisfaction will do that to you. Very careful guy, you are.” I reached out for my coffee, holding my wrist with my left hand. “My hand is damn shaking. I mean, my damn hand is shaking. No! Not right now! Out damned hand!”

“Don’t worry, Julie. Let’s get this straight. I don’t care. I mean, I care so much I don’t care.” He kissed me, on my overnight mouth, and together, with me lost in one of his huge terry robes, we walked carefully down that sky-suspended staircase, into a kitchen filled with sun. “Give me your coffee cup,” Matt said. “I want to give you the good stuff. My mom’s china.” I sat down. There was a cup at my plate, and a sugar bowl with tongs.

“You do this every Sunday morning?”

“Are you kidding? I had to climb up into the attic and find this stuff behind the Christmas ornaments.”

“Lump sugar?”

“And tongs, Julie. These weren’t my mother’s. I got them from Kelly after she told me it wasn’t that cool to pull the cubes out with my fingers. But here, do it the right way.”

The ring was on top of the pile of raw sugar cubes.

It looked like one of the brown lumps had been transformed, by a genie, into crystal. It was that big. Plain and simply set, but the size of Mount Rushmore.

I reached around it and put sugar into my coffee. “Do you have milk?” I asked.

“Well, will you marry me?” he asked.

“Do I get milk then?”

“Now, you think
I’m
crazy.”

“I think this is a gesture of overwhelming sweetness, Matt. And I’ve never seen a ring like that, much less worn one.”

“Try it on.”

“Matt…”

“That sounds like a big letdown.”

“I don’t mean it to. I thought we were having a good time.”

“And then I had to spoil it by offering to make you my wife?”

“We haven’t seen each other in almost thirty years, Matt! We’ve had six dates. We’ve had sex once. Well, twice.”

“And we’ve written back and forth and spoken on the phone for hours for nearly a year. You’ve seen other men. I’ve seen other women. You know that I love you. I hope you love me. You know people depend on me for more physical challenges than your disease could ever offer us. From now until, well, we kick the bucket.”

“What would you say if I couldn’t see? Or had to zip around on one of those little scooters, if we took Aurora to Disney World? Think about that, Matt. Think about Suzie, climbing mountains and, I don’t know, jibbing the mainsail or whatever she did. What if I couldn’t do that? Or couldn’t always do that?”

He sat down and folded his huge, clean hands. I shivered, looking at those hands. “Well, don’t think I haven’t thought about this. I know that you could remain this way the rest of your life, or be badly disabled. And I want to sign on.”

“What if I lose it all? My mind?”

“I’ll have the privilege of really being the support and help for someone. Really mattering to someone. That’s no small thing. Anyway, you don’t say to yourself, when you fall in love, gee, what am I going to do if my wife can’t talk when we’re eighty? Or if she makes mistakes with words? We’re in our forties. Should I do that? I could easily be the one who ends up buggy.”

“Well, those are the things you should think about long and hard, if you’re marrying a woman with a disability….”

“So you confirm that I am marrying a woman with a disability.”

I waited, as he slipped the ring on my finger, for the flashing red sign that would restore me to my senses.

It didn’t ignite.

I felt only a great and consuming peace of mind. I thought of a forever of last nights, safe in this house. This
house
! Seeing things with Matt, a man who, apparently, wanted to devour the world. Someone who didn’t hate his work, but who had a passion for it. A big, handsome man with friends! He loved me as I once was, and as I was now. Tears gathered in my eyes. He loved me even as I might become, or thought he could. It took my breath away. I could be…myself again. With someone I knew, or had known, as a good and honest person. My first kiss, and my last. A symmetrical union. The possibility of joy. A loving, comforting presence beside me on quiet nights, or festive ones. When the demons descended and, even better, when they didn’t. Matthew MacDougall, a good man, a patient and, I’d discovered, sensual man.

Did the thought of health insurance occur to me? I’m not stupid, or a liar. Did the thought of a stable home for Rory, a stable father figure who actually wanted a child, did that cross my mind, too? For Gabe, perhaps an understanding friend who might repeal some of the cynicism he felt about the loyalty of men? Was I crazy?

I was not crazy.

I would be crazy to turn him down.

I was knock-over-the-moon lucky.

I was going to walk out of this house with this ring, like a little star, on my hand. The possibility of the book, the luckiest thing that had happened to me in years, now was pallid in comparison with the richer happiness I envisioned. One was a little help, a little payback. For a little while. One was sanctuary. I didn’t kid myself. I wanted Matt now. I would need Matthew as time went by.

But who among us does not need other people?

People have been far bigger fools for far less.

Matt spent the rest of the day asking me, “How’s engaged life?”

Much as I hated to leave him, I knew I had to face the drive to Vermont in the morning. I knew that he would insist on driving me, and that I ought to refuse, but also that it was okay for me to give in! He would go with me. I had a partner. And after the day and the next night, much as I hated to leave him, I couldn’t wait to spill the bittersweet revelation to Gabe, and to Cath. This house! I wandered around, examining the towels, the sunroom, the massive game room with pinball machines and a TV the size of Montana! Gabe would love this house. I examined the old glass doorknobs, the curve-legged table with its frieze of Poseidon on the waves.

I had no idea whether Gabe would be hurt, relieved, or elated. I suspect there would be a tincture of all three.

At least, he would know that he would be free.

Then I thought of Hannah and Gabe Senior.

Every blessing has its blemish.

How could I leave them?
Whither thou goest.
Perhaps there was a way I could convince them; but no, there were all the friends they had who were in Sheboygan or in Door County. On the other hand, flights to and from there weren’t outrageous.

It was a three-hour drive to Pitt, Vermont, where we stopped at the bed-and-breakfast Gabe and Cat had mentioned, just a map step shy of the New York State line. We brought the owner a flowering plant, and I explained who I was. She had no trouble remembering my children; and her face toughened with disdain, but she made no comment, when she gave us directions to Sunrise Valley. We made the ride in silence, the way obligingly variegated to reflect my mood. I was going to be a doctor’s wife. I was going to be a published-ass poet! My kids were going to be safe.

I was going to see the great love of my life, and the great love of
his
life. I was going to see my little girl, who’d grown up too soon. When we finally drove down the avenue of maples and turned left, the first thing I saw was the new house, still raw, but glittering with oversized south-facing windows, riotous with plants of every span and plumage, just beneath the crest of the ridge, I grabbed for Matthew’s arm. Who was this man? A complete stranger. I was going to march up to the front door of Leo’s love nest with my seventh-grade crush—and by the way, it had been
his
crush, not mine! What was I doing? Why had I not thought it over?

I would not have done this, any of this, had I thought it over.

And there was no point starting to think now.

So we walked up the flagstone steps that led to…my ex-husband’s home. Caroline opened the door. Involuntarily, she leapt toward me and threw her arms around my neck. I could have eaten her up. Her neck was wet with both our tears.

“I take it you know this young woman?” Matt asked, gruff, almost abashed, so lost were we in each other.

“
This
is my daughter! This is my beautiful daughter, Cat Steiner!” I told him. “Cat, this is Matt. That sounds ridiculous. Cat, this is, well, my sweetheart.” I put out my hand.

“Mom! Is that real?” Cat burst out, ever mindful of the important things in life.

“I’m afraid it is, yes, and I’m afraid it’s what you think it is,” I told her. “Ain’t that a kick in the head?”

“Mommy! I’m so happy for you!”

“Are you? Is everything just as…wonderful here as it looks?” Something passed across her face. I’d have called it a cloud.

“It’s great!” she said, and I thought, she is my daughter, too. Living in Deny, Vermont. “Dad’s out right now…but Joy is here.”

“It was you I wanted to see!” I said. “I’m here only for one day. Cat, will you come to our wedding?”

“Cat!” A voice in the background bellowed. It was okay. I bellowed. “I told you to change that load of whites!”

“How are you doing in school?” I asked.

“Really, really good,” she said. “But I don’t have that much time for it, because of the two babies and with Dad working so much….” I noticed, then, with a bit of alarm, the little blue hollows under Caroline’s eyes. She changed the subject.

“Are you feeling good, Mom?”

I spun around on my boot heel. “Don’t I look like I’m feeling good?”

“Yeah,” Cat said wistfully, leaning against the door frame. An actual cloud pushed across the sun, and she shivered. “You look pretty good. How’re Gabe and Rory?”

“He’s good, Cat. He dropped out, but he’s almost ready to take the GED….”

“You can’t blame him, Mom. You don’t know what it was like for him.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I did, but I don’t. Not everyone goes the same way, like you said on the phone. How’s Dominico?”

“So over. He was, like, sleeping with three other girls. He was so trash.” I froze, and Cat whispered, “I had all the tests. Everything’s okay with me. But what an asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Her back stiffened a bit. “You were right.”

“I’d much rather have been wrong than see you hurt.”

“Mommy, it’s cool to see you happy. You were so lousy—I don’t mean lousy—”

“Yeah, I was pretty lousy. I was lousy to you. You can say it. I was pretty hurting.”

“Well, I didn’t help. It was better I left.”

“I’ll never think that.”

We all turned as a car crunched down the lane behind us. A truck really, an aging Dodge. But the stroller on the porch was a Zooper Baby, with every gadget on it except a foot massager. Leo got out of the truck, slowly, and used a sheaf of papers to shield his eyes as he tried to place the stranger with the big man on his porch, talking to his daughter. Then, he recognized me, and his shoulders seemed to drop from their position of defense.

“Julie,” he said.

“Hi, Lee,” I said, taking his hand. “Mazel tov. I heard you have a baby girl.”

“Yeah,” Leo said to me. “Joy is very fertile. The baby’s a doll, though. Joy, too. And this doll has been my right hand.” He nodded at Caroline. Leo shifted, slipping his sheaf of documents under one arm. “Leo Steiner,” he said, putting out his hand to Matt, who gave it a perfunctory shake (I took smug pleasure). “I didn’t get your name.”

“Matt MacDougall.”

Leo grinned. “You sound like an actor. Look like one, too. One of Cathy’s friends?” he asked.