Forever (2 page)

The morning’s work had allowed her too much time to worry. It had all sounded so simple in April when Patricia, speaking as both her friend and boss, had suggested she get certified as a real estate agent. For nearly a year, she’d worked at Patricia’s business, Sunrise Realty, taking calls, scheduling appointments, and filing paperwork. Though she worked only part time, usually three days a week, Patricia called her the “Office General” because she’d learned every aspect of both their jobs. Getting her sales license seemed a natural step. So why had she kept that plan secret from Tom?

It was true, Tom and Patricia hadn’t exactly hit it off, but he never complained that she worked outside their home. When she’d explained that with Lindsay so busy with her school, friends, and job and he working long hours to get his construction business going, she needed something to fill her days, he’d said he understood. Yet her instinct told her he would be less supportive of her becoming an agent. And she could thank his selfish, over-bearing mother for that.

A wife with a job was one thing. A wife with a career was another. A wife with a career that could result in a hefty income was a woman with power. A woman with power would remind Tom of his mother. And that would be his undoing. That could end their marriage.

Then again, they might already be headed toward divorce. Tom had changed in the last year. He wasn’t as happy running his own company as they’d hoped. He missed working hands on, though he’d never admit that to her. The last couple of months, as if he blamed her for his dissatisfaction with work, he’d withdrawn a little more each day. And then, just when she feared the dreaded words
we need to talk
were about to pop out his mouth, he would surprise her by transforming back into the sweet, caring man she’d fallen for twenty-four years ago. Too bad that lasted only a few days.

After a lunch eaten side by side at the kitchen island, Tom and Julie moved across the great room and settled in front of the TV. He turned to a fishing show, knowing the first time his eyes drifted shut she’d grab the remote and switch to the home and garden channel. Some twenty minutes later, he opened his eyes to find her dozing on the sofa, but he watched the do-it-yourselfers tile their bathroom floor rather than leave his recliner to reclaim the remote. His eyes closed again before the show ended.

It was late afternoon when Max signaled his need by pawing his owner awake and then trotting to the patio door. Tom stumbled after him. “Sorry, buddy. Go water something.” He’d intended to stay inside but stepped out when he saw Julie lying in the hammock. “What are you doing out here?”

“I couldn’t stand being caged another minute,” she said. “You certainly took a long nap.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well, lately.”

“I’ve noticed. Something on your mind?”

“Nope.”

Sweat already forming on his face, Tom lit a cigarette and sat down at the patio table. He felt hungover from the naps. He’d dreamed of the woods again. Why was that so unsettling?

Julie picked up her magazine and fanned herself. “This weather saps my energy.”

“We should have gone to the lake.”

“Yeah, well, we should have done a
lot
of things, Tom.”

“Excuse me? Are we fighting?”

Her mouth dropped opened and the magazine stilled in mid-wave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . it’s just this heat.”

Tom nodded. He balanced his cigarette on the ashtray and stood. “I’m getting an iced tea. You want a refill?”

“Please.”

Partially sun blind, Tom re-entered the house and groped his way to the refrigerator. During the three minutes he spent in the kitchen, the sweat on his face chilled and dried. In the time it took him to cross the patio and hand one glass to Julie, his skin grew damp again. Neither sensation improved his mood.

“You think Lindsay will be home this evening?” he asked.

“I doubt it. When she’s not working, she’s out with friends.”

“But we don’t have much time left with her.”

“Good God, Tom, you say that like she’s dying.”

“Well . . . it’s like a death. After she leaves for college, things will never be the same. That’s the death of something.”

Julie stared out across the yard. For a moment, the only sound was the clink of ice against glass as she stirred her tea with a fingertip. “Maybe we’ll resume the life we had before Lindsay was born.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone so noncommittal it stripped the word of meaning. More than age had made them nearly unrecognizable as the same couple in the wedding portrait hanging in the foyer. Lately, he thought about that a lot. Had they actually changed or just moved apart? And, whichever had happened, was it too late to reverse it?

“Just the two of us again?” She gave him a look ripe with hope.

“Yes,” he replied and then added, “sure,” hoping emphasis would disguise his doubt and fear.

Julie sighed and sank back against the hammock pillows. Tom blew a perfect smoke ring and watched it hang in the heavy air like guilt. Guilt? Where the hell had that come from? He dispersed the ring with a wave of his hand.

“Why don’t we go to the movies?” he said.

She perked up. “I’d like to see a comedy that’s opening tonight.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it’s a romantic one.”

He frowned for only a moment before his face lit with a grin. “Okay, I’ll see your sappy movie, if we can stop at The Shack afterward for barbecue and a pitcher of beer.”

Julie smiled and tossed her magazine at him. “Sounds great, but I’m blaming you when I get fat.”

He stood and steadied her as she stepped out of the hammock, then he pulled her close. “We could work off those calories when we get home tonight.” He gave her a comic wiggle of his eyebrows.

Julie grasped two handfuls of his hair and pulled his face to hers. “We’ll see about that, Old Man. Now, let me go so I can shower off this sweat.”

When she turned to go, he took a playful swat at her ass. Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe they
would
be all right, the two of them alone again.

Maybe.

Julie answered the doorbell and was surprised to find Patricia standing on her porch beside her new friend and soon-to-be business partner, Eddie.

Patricia stormed into the foyer. “Did you tell him yet?”

“Hello,” Julie said. “Do come in.”

Patricia waved away her sarcasm. “Did you?”

“No. I will. Hello, Eddie.”

Julie closed the door behind them but kept hold of the handle, hoping this would be a quick conversation and the two of them would leave before Tom came downstairs ready for their movie date. No such luck. Patricia set sail for the formal living room with Eddie pulled along in her wake.

At the archway that led into the room, Eddie turned and beckoned to Julie. Reluctantly, she moved toward him. He took her hand and led her to the sofa where Patricia was already seated.

“Do you want
me
to tell him our plans?” Patricia asked her.

“No, I don’t.” Though Julie knew who Patricia’s
him
referred to, her use of the pronoun instead of Tom’s name sounded particularly dismissive this evening. “Tom and I are on our way out to a movie in a few minutes and—”

“Which movie?” Patricia asked.

“
Don’t Wake Me
, so—”

“Fantastic. Count us in.”

“The reviews are wonderful,” Eddie said.

When Tom’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, Julie was still trying to figure out how to get out of the invitation she’d seemingly offered.

His face stinging from the insult of being shaved on a Saturday, Tom sprinted down the stairs. He headed toward the kitchen but, at the sound of Lindsay’s voice, stopped short in the entrance to the living room.

“No thanks,” she said to her mom. “I just stopped in to change clothes. Have fun.” As she passed him on her way out, she gave him a look and whispered, “I pity you.”

Tom surveyed the situation. Julie sat on the sofa flanked by her friend Patricia and a stranger with a shaved head. The man repulsed Tom on sight. Julie murmured an introduction. The stranger, Eddie something, looked too pink, overly scrubbed, naked—a pornographic little man. He sprang up, offering his hand.

“It’s great to meet you, Tom.” Eddie sandwiched Tom’s hand between his and pumped it.

Tom felt a shock of revulsion as if his hand had been sucked into some cold, wet, rotted thing. Though his hand was dry when Eddie set it free, he couldn’t resist the urge to wipe it on his jeans.

Eddie leaned closer. “You have a
gorgeous
daughter, Tom. I’ll bet you have to beat the boys away from your door.”

Tom’s skin crawled at the idea Eddie had looked at his daughter that way. He pinned the man with a glare. “Julie and I were just on our way out.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “We’ve decided to join you. It’s a double-date.”

Tom stared wide-eyed at Eddie. The man—swear to God—had giggled. Tom turned narrowed eyes on Julie who missed his scowl because she seemed inordinately fascinated with her feet. He shot daggers at Patricia instead.

She responded with her canary-feathered cat smile and linked arms with Julie. “We’ll have a blast, won’t we, Tom?”

With one hand, he rubbed his forehead where a throbbing had begun, and with the other, he jerked the car keys from his pocket. “We’re leaving.”

“Let’s take my new Lexus,” Eddie said. “You’ll love it, Tom. Top of the line, fully loaded, and rides like a dream.”

“No, thanks.”

He might be headed toward hours of boredom, but he’d be damned if another man would do the driving. Tom stalked out the door. He had half a mind to take his Ford crew cab, just to see the look on Eddie’s face, but they always drove Julie’s Camry when they went out together. As Julie slid into the passenger’s seat, she flashed him an apologetic smile. He didn’t return it, but he did consider it a sign she hadn’t planned this fiasco. Still, why hadn’t she stood up to Patricia?

“This night is on me,” Eddie said, settling into the back seat. “After we take in the film, we’ll have a
spectacular
dinner.”

“Oh! I know the
perfect
restaurant,” Patricia said. She leaned over to whisper in Eddie’s ear. Eddie giggled again. Tom winced at the sound.

“Boys and girls,” Eddie announced, “we are in for a treat tonight.”

“Well, then . . .” Julie said.

At the lack of enthusiasm in her tone, Tom forgave her a little more. Before he jerked the gearshift into reverse, he hit the power button on the CD changer, hoping Lindsay had used the car last. Dashing his hope to torture the backseat occupants with something loud and possibly obnoxious, the disc in play was a collection of Julie’s favorite love songs. Eddie’s and Patricia’s too, apparently. During the twelve-minute drive to the theater, they sang along with every word. In steamed silence, Tom awarded them the title of
Most Annoying Couple Ever
—worldwide.

* * *

In contrast to the smiles of his three companions, Tom’s lips were pressed bloodless against his teeth as he crossed the parking lot to the Rockville Cineplex doors. He strode a step ahead, maintaining lead position as they joined the ticket line. He was determined not to let Eddie pay out a dime for him or Julie.

All he’d wanted was to spend an evening with his wife. He would have endured this movie, and even discussed it at The Shack afterward, but she’d discounted him by dragging along these other two. Compounding his torment tonight, Patricia had this obnoxious new “boyfriend” in tow. Had Julie actually called him that? Tom found it impossible to think of the pompous, middle-aged man as a
boy
anything.

Tom puffed his cheeks and then forced an exhale through the corners of his mouth. All signs pointed to this being a long evening. He reached for his wallet.

“Now, Tom,” Eddie said, “put that away. I told you—”

“So, Eddie,” Julie said, “did you say you were born in Ohio?”

Tom shot her a look, surprised she’d interrupted. But then, he supposed she’d sensed he was about to tell Eddie where to stuff his money.

“Oh no, Julie, I’m Pennsylvania born, but I lived in Chicago before I came here.”

“And you sold real estate there?”

Patricia answered for him. “He
owned
the top realty company.”

Eddie feigned modesty. “Too much stress. I’m lying low here for a while.”

Tom squelched a sneer.
Lost his shirt is more like it
. He tuned out the rest of the conversation and resorted to his habit of people watching. Scanning the crowd for interesting faces, he fixed on the woman in the ticket booth at the head of their line.

Her pale skin framed by long dark hair nearly glowed in the theater’s lighting. Never good at guessing ages, Tom could tell only that she was younger than he yet no longer a girl. Hoping to see the color of her eyes, he continued to watch, but as she dispensed tickets, she never looked up.

Sensing himself a similar object of scrutiny, Tom glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with Eddie. Unfazed by Tom’s glare, Eddie’s eyes remained cold as he smiled before turning his attention back to Julie and Patricia’s conversation.

Tom dismissed Eddie with a shudder of disgust and glanced at, then ignored, the usual assortment of teens displaying their colorful personas. While he inched his way forward in line, he continued his appraisal of the woman in the ticket booth. There was something about her more striking than her coloring. She seemed serene. No, not that. She was . . . what? Lonely? Whatever it was, it made her seem isolated, as though she were not fully there.

The movement of her pale, delicate hands from money to cash drawer to tickets mesmerized him. For a second, Tom felt sure he knew this woman, but before he could place her, it was his turn to step up to the booth.

“Two for
Don’t Wake Me
.” He slid the money toward her hand. Their fingertips met.

This time, she did look up and . . .

A blur of green, leafy branches whip by as they run deeper into the woods. The shouts behind them grow closer. They cannot outrun him. They have no time left to hide. Their attempt to escape is futile, but he prays he still has time to get her out of danger, out of sight, before that monster catches up with them. Without slowing his stride, he jerks her alongside him and then pushes her ahead.