California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (25 page)

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At the appointed time Tuesday morning, Annie picked up the phone and called Carol. “I still haven’t heard from Jim about the job in New Jersey,” she told the coach. “I may not have to make this decision after all. I don’t know what I’ll do then. This is my only choice.”

“Really?” Carol asked softly.

“What other choices do you think I have?”

“What could you do?”

“Get fired.”

“And then what?”

“Go on unemployment until it runs out?”

“And then what?” Carol asked again.

“Go on welfare. Sell my house. Move in with my mother. Strike that last one,” Annie said. “I’m
not
moving in with my mother.”

“But it is a choice.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

Carol chuckled. “What else?”

“I could look for a job. I could take a job singing torch songs at a local joint.” Now she laughed at the mental picture of draping her body over a grand piano and teasing the pianist with a pink boa.

“And … ”

“And I’d sing so hard I’d lose my voice and I’d take the pink boa and become a stripper, but they’d catch on that the body is too old so I’d have to get a shopping cart and become a bag lady.” Annie put her coffee cup down, suffused with laughter at the image of herself in a raggedy raincoat adorned with a pink boa.

Carol waited until Annie’s laughter died down before she said, “The bag lady image is one most women carry in their heads. It rarely comes true, but most women spend their lives doing things they don’t want to do because of the idea. How much money do you need to live?”

Annie told her. She knew the figure down to the penny.

“Will unemployment cover it?”

“No. And what about sending David to college?” Annie asked.

“What about it?”

“I can’t afford that if I don’t have a job.”

“How old is he?”

“Fifteen.”

“I think you have some time. Does he have a job?”

Annie admitted that David didn’t. They brainstormed ways for David to help contribute to his college fund. Now that Fred was sober, Annie thought, maybe he could contribute, too.

“Get David involved. Give him more control over his own life. He’s growing up, Mom. You’ve done a great job being mama-bear up to now, but you need to teach him to find his own berries. I want to go back to one of the ideas you had earlier — singing for a living.”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t thinking singing for a living is realistic. I’d never make the money I need to make.”

“So … ”

“So it’s a ridiculous idea.”

“Have you enjoyed singing over the last few weeks?”

Annie thought about singing in the shower and in the car. “It was strange, but I did have fun while I was doing it. I even looked for my old guitar. It’s in pretty good shape — needs new strings, but other than that, it’s playable.”

“When are you getting new strings?”

“What’s the point?”

“Your resistance is interesting. What do you think will happen if you get strings for your guitar?”

“I don’t know.” By now, Annie knew that Carol wasn’t going to accept that for an answer, so she began to think. Why hadn’t she gotten strings? “I guess, it would make it real.”

“Tell me more.”

“I’d find out how rusty I’ve gotten over the last fifteen years. I’d definitely have to build up new calluses.” Annie sighed, recalling the pain in her fingertips before the calluses had built up the first time. “I think,” she paused again as her voice choked. “I think, I’d find out how much I missed it — how much I missed me.” Tears stung her eyes. “I feel like a fool. I took a left turn and wound up selling out, just like my parents.”

“No, you didn’t. Life is a balance between doing what you need to do to have food and shelter and attending to your spiritual and creative lives. It’s when we get too involved in one or the other that problems can occur. You were too busy gathering nuts and berries to take time for a good wallow in a mud bath. Perhaps it’s time to find a different bush, where the berries are easier to gather and you have time to play.”

Carol’s soft words soothed her. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her.

“But what do I do? I really need this job. Do I move to New Jersey? I’m sure they have guitar strings in New Jersey.”

“I’m sure they do. And it’s a possibility. But you have to look at the whole picture. What else would you give up if you moved? You know that you’d lose the job and the security if you stay, but what do you lose if you go?”

“My friends, my house, maybe my son,” she said, thinking about Fred’s subtle threat to go to court to prevent her from taking David out of state.

“Is it worth it?” Carol asked.

“Doesn’t sound like it, does it? Still, I may not have to make the decision. It’s taking a long time for Jim to offer the job. Maybe the director remembers I stepped on his foot and won’t let Jim hire me.”

“I think you need to make the decision on your own, regardless of what Jim does. That way, you keep the power in your own hands. I have another assignment for you. I want you to create a list — at least fifty ways that you could earn money other than move to New Jersey. I don’t care how bizarre they are, in fact the more crazy they are, the better. I want you to get your creative juices flowing.”

“All right,” Annie said doubtfully.

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“Get the guitar strings.”

Annie grinned. “Sounds like a great idea.”

She hung up the phone, but it immediately rang again. The realtor.

She wasn’t encouraging. When she found out how much Annie owed on her mortgage, she said, “You’re underwater. You can’t get that much for your house.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“See if your company will cough up the difference. They used to, but with this economy … ”

“I suppose I could rent it out. How much could I get?”

The realtor told her.

“But that wouldn’t even cover my mortgage, never mind taxes or insurance.”

“Check with your company,” the woman said. “It’s your best bet.”

Annie was finishing up for the day when the phone rang. “Mrs. Renquist?” a raspy voice asked.

“Gerhard.”

“Are you David Renquist’s mother?” the voice asked impatiently.

“What’s wrong? Who are you?’

“This is Kathy Plum. I’m an administrator in the emergency room.”

“What’s wrong? Is David okay? Is he hurt? I’ll be right there!”

“Mrs. Renquist!” The woman’s commanding voice stopped Annie as she was about to hang up the phone.

“What? I said I’d be right there.”

“I heard you. But I need you to calm down.” The woman’s voice softened. “We don’t need you getting into an accident. I know you’re worried, but it’s not too bad. Your son was hit in the head during soccer. He’s a little bloody, but he’ll be okay. We need your permission to treat him.”

“Where’s his father?” Fred was supposed to watch David play and bring him home.

“He’s here, but since you’re the legal guardian, we need your permission.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll be right down.”

“Wait … ”

Annie couldn’t wait any longer.
I’m calm enough!
She flung down the phone and flew out the door, not bothering to lock it. Her hands shook as she started the Prius and drove to Monterey Bay General. She ran the long distance from the parking lot to arrive breathless at the front desk.

“My son, David Renquist,” she said to the plump woman in the first cubicle.

The woman looked at the computer screen and slowly tapped a few keys. “Let’s see, Renquist.”

Annie wanted to scream. What was taking this woman so long? Didn’t she understand the concept of “emergency room”?

“Ah … there it is. They’re treating him now.” She reached for a stack of papers in the black plastic trays to her right. “We need you to fill out these forms. We’ll also need a copy of your insurance card.”

“I want to see my son.”

“They’re treating him. You can see him in a few minutes. Please sign here.” The woman tapped her pen on a line on the form she’d placed in front of Annie.

Annie groaned, dug out her insurance card, and handed it to the woman. While the woman went to get the card copied, she scanned the insurance form and signed it. After several minutes, the woman returned with her card. She grabbed it and asked, “Where is he?”

The clerk gestured to the swinging doors at the end of the waiting room. “Ask the nurse at the station which cubicle he’s in.”

She didn’t wait to hear any further instructions, but pushed through the swinging doors. Hearing Fred’s voice rumbling from behind a curtained alcove on the left, she pawed at the fabric until she found the opening between the panels. She gasped when she saw her son. His bright green goalie shirt was streaked with blood.

“What happened?”

“He was accidently kicked in the head when he dove for the ball,” Fred said. “He passed out for a moment and they want to check him out. He’s got a mild concussion.”

“So much blood.” She slid around to the side of the bed and stroked her son’s arm.

“Head wound,” Fred said.

David’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi, Mom. I made the save.” He grinned at her.

“I’m sure you did, honey. Rest.”

Her son closed his eyes. A short Latina nurse poked her head through the curtain slit. “I need to clean him up so you can take him home. Doctor will be with you in a moment to tell you how to take care of him. You can wait out here.” She drew the curtain aside and gestured for Fred and Annie to leave.

Once outside the curtained room, Annie and Fred looked at each other, searching for the small talk that used to come easily. After a few moments, Fred asked, “What are you going to do about your job?”

“I haven’t heard anything. I don’t know if they’ll offer me the other position.”

“You can move to New Jersey if you want,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you aren’t taking my son anywhere.”

“Fred, we’ll discuss this later.”

“We’re discussing nothing later. That’s always been your way, telling me what to do. But now it’s going to stop. You aren’t ruling my life any more. And you aren’t ruling David’s. He’s staying with me.”

“You can’t take care of him,” Annie said. “You can barely take care of yourself!”

“That’s not true … ”

“Stop arguing!” David’s voice came from behind the curtain.

“Hush,” the nurse said. “Don’t get excited. It’s not good for you.” She poked her head out and glared at them. “Don’t you know better?” she hissed. “This is a hospital!”

Annie felt her face flush red and she stared down at the floor.

An Asian doctor walked up to them, clipboard in hand. He gave them a curious glance. “Which one of you will be taking care of him?”

“I will,” Annie said. The doctor cut his eyes to Fred, who nodded.

The doctor launched into his instructions. “Sign here.” He handed her the clipboard, tearing out a yellow copy of instructions for her when she returned it.

David walked out from behind the curtain, face clean above the bloodied shirt, cleats in his hand. He glanced at them and turned on his heel to go out through the doors, his parents trailing behind.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said after they put their son in the passenger seat. “It wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. But Annie, we do need to talk about this. You can’t keep going on making decisions for everyone else in your life, even if you think you’re right.”

“I am right,” she said with a small grin, hoping to defuse the situation.

“Not all the time.” Fred held her eyes. This was a new Fred, sober, stable and tenacious. She was going to have to deal with it.

“Okay. Let me get through the next few days and then we’ll sit down and talk about it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Fred stuck his head in the driver-side door. “Behave,” he said to his son.

“Yeah, Dad.”

After they got home, David took a shower while Annie made herself some St. John’s Wort tea. While she waited for the water to boil, she thought about Carol’s assignment to brainstorm job opportunities. She got out some paper and sat down at the kitchen table to begin her list. Fifteen minutes later, her tea was cold and the paper was still blank.

Mercifully, the phone rang.

“Hi,” her friend said.

“Elizabeth!” Annie exclaimed.

“You sound like we haven’t seen each other in years. What’s up?”

Annie quickly filled her in on David’s accident and her argument with Fred. Elizabeth murmured her sympathy.

“Any news on the job front? And how about John — have you heard from him? I ran into him yesterday at Nisene Marks.”

“Yes, he told me.”

“So you have seen him.”

“You could say that. Actually, I did more than see him,” Annie said. “I cried on his shoulder. And … ”

“What?”

“I let him kiss me again.”

“Oh, Annie, you didn’t. After he two-timed you with that other woman?” Elizabeth asked.

“It wasn’t like that at all. She’s his old girlfriend, fiancé, really, and she came into town unexpectedly.”

“Is that what he told you? It looked like a little more than that to me.”

“I think John likes to touch. Some people are more like that than others. Probably has to do with raising animals or something.” She sounded over-eager.

“Honey, you’ve got it bad. Your excuse-making has gone into overdrive.”

“Well, maybe, but I kept my head. I sent him away before it went too far.”

“God, Annie, why’d you do that?”

“I thought you’d be happy. First you say I’m getting too close, then you say I shouldn’t have sent him away. Which is it?”

Elizabeth chuckled. “A little of both, I suspect. I want you to be happy and never get hurt again. I suppose that really isn’t possible. There is something solid and trustworthy about John. I think he has to clean up some loose ends, but there’re possibilities.”

“Not for me.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I give up. But you still haven’t told me about the job. Have you heard anything?”

“No.”

“Disappointed?”

“I think so.”

“Sounds like you’re not quite as determined to go as you were.”