Life Is A Foreign Language (8 page)

“How about tomorrow? If you can spare the time.”

“I’m on vacation for the next couple of days. I usually go by the clinic once a day to check my mail. Tomorrow suits me fine. But what about your ankle?”

“My ankle’s as good as healed.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll fetch you mid-morning tomorrow.”

“Great. I’m bored cooped up here at home. I’ll take my car, follow you to the clinic. Then I can do some shopping afterward.”

Nina was determined not to show up at Brian and Samantha’s cookout empty-handed. She would bring something—flowers, at least. In France it was inconceivable to arrive at a first visit without taking flowers or chocolates or a bottle of wine, and Nina intended to do the same here. But she was unsure of local custom; she had studied in the States, but the habits in New York and Baltimore were perhaps different from the simplified life in Florida.

Beside her, Michael cleared his throat. “Of course, you’re bored.” He sipped his beer. “You don’t need to take your car. I’d be glad to drive you.”

She glanced at him. His gaze met and held hers. Self-conscious, she brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “Thanks. It’s very kind, but you’ve already done more than enough.”

He leaned an elbow on the table. “Here’s what I suggest. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, we’ll visit the clinic. I’ll drop you off at one of the malls, and bring you back when you’re done shopping. How about that?”

It sounded all right. But no, she wouldn’t accept. She didn’t understand what his suggestion entailed. Probably nothing. He was being nice and considerate as usual, but she felt cornered. She folded and unfolded her napkin. If it hadn’t been for her ankle, still a little sore, she would have been pacing to get free of the stifling feeling. She shifted in her chair, stacked the dishes and pushed them to the other side of the table.

Michael used one of the candles to light a cigarette. “Apparently my suggestion isn’t tempting.”

She’d painted herself in a corner.
Now what?
“It is tempting, but to be frank, I’m used to shopping on my own. Let’s visit your clinic as planned and leave it at that.” The fact was she had rarely, if ever, gone shopping with her own husband, let alone a strange man.

Michael’s eyebrows rose, and he looked baffled although she couldn’t understand why. He shrugged. His answer was curt. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”

Did she imagine it or did he sound hurt? What had she done? She hadn’t meant to offend him. These days, it seemed as if she couldn’t get anything right. Massaging her temples she opened her mouth to ask him to go easy on her, to please understand that she was hurt and afraid. The candle became a fuzzy ball of light from the tears she fought, and she didn’t dare to speak lest her voice betray

Collecting the stack of dishes, Michael took them inside. He stood in the doorway to the lanai. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. I’m fine.” She knew he was preparing to leave—the rest of the evening yawned fathomless. She wanted him to leave so she could give in and cry. And she wanted to ask him to stay, but lacked the courage.

“Will you promise to call if you need anything?”

She nodded. “Yes, I will.” Wondering what she would possibly need that he could help her with. She wanted it all: Florida, and her children, and grandchildren, and to stop hurting. Nobody could fix these things for her. Time could—and would—but Nina had no patience.

After Michael left, Nina cast about for something to pass the time, refusing to give in to the feeling of loneliness and the tears, knowing they were rooted in self-pity. Switching on the TV she kept flipping channels, but didn’t find anything that held her attention.

A sharp ring of the doorbell made her jump. She glanced at her watch—it wasn’t late, but she hesitated with her hand on the handle.

She heard a knock. “Open. It’s me.”

Sophie!

Nina threw the door wide. “I’m so glad to see you! Come. Have a seat. What can I get you? Coffee? Wine?”

“Nina, calm down.”

“Sure, sure. I’m so relieved to see you. I was slowly going crazy alone.”

“Alone? Not for long. I saw Michael drive off a short while ago.”

Nina chucked. “So? Are you spying on me?”

“Naturally. I’m making sure you stay out of mischief.” Sophie smiled and sat on the loveseat. “Joking aside, I was going to come earlier, but when I saw his car in the driveway I didn’t want to intrude.”

“It wouldn’t have been an intrusion. He decided I needed to be fed, so he cooked dinner for me. And he suggested a visit to his clinic and shopping tomorrow.”

“Good. I hope you accepted.”

“I want to visit the clinic, but said no to the shopping.

“Why? It could be fun.”

“It’s too much. I can’t handle it.”

“What’s too much? Can’t you handle that somebody’s kind to you?”

Nina thought for a moment, sorting out her emotions. “He is very nice, but I feel fragile … so vulnerable. Right now I need to be on my own.”

Sophie gave her a dubious look. “You know best, of course. A word of caution though—not every man is like André. As for Michael, keep your options open. He can be a real friend.” She smiled. “Now, did I hear you say something about wine?”

Nina got a bottle of red wine, still resting in its wooden crate used for transportation. Slowly, with delicate movements not to disturb the liquid, she pulled out the bottle, slightly dusty with age.

After uncorking it with care, she set the open bottle on the table. “Knowing you’re something of a wine expert I brought this especially for you. Leave it to breathe for a moment.” She sat next to Sophie. “How are your sons doing?”

“Gregg and Bruce are both doing well. They keep insisting I move to New York to be with them. I miss them terribly, but I also treasure my life here.” She sighed. “Fortunately, it’s not far, so we visit often.”

When she deemed the wine was ready to serve, Nina poured a little in a stem glass and handed it to Sophie who took it, holding it to the light to admire its warm burgundy color. Nina followed Sophie’s every move with intense interest. This was no ordinary wine, and Nina wanted to see her reaction.

Sophie held the glass under her nose, breathing in the bouquet. Then she sampled the wine, swirling the beverage around in her mouth, eyes half closed. Nina saw her swallow, still keeping her mouth closed. “Hmm, great body.” She took another taste. “Velvety. This is excellent!” she said at length.

“It should be—it’s one of the better vintages. I’m pleased it traveled well.” Nina filled her glass to one quarter. “Usually, a wine should be left to rest for at least a couple of weeks after transport.”

Picking up the glass, Sophie gazed at Nina. “The wine interrupted what I wanted to say—that I understand your need to take it easy right now. But don’t isolate. You need to see people, take your mind off your problems. Navel-gazing isn’t a good road to healing.”

Nina grinned. “You’re right. And I will see people, but right now I need time to myself.” She refilled Sophie’s glass. “I’ve given up my marriage, changed my place of residence and I’m separated from my children and granddaughters. I shouldn’t enumerate these things, but they’re important losses—and I need to grieve them all.”

“Do you regret divorcing André?”

“Heavens, no!” Nina rubbed her face with both hands. “Whether it’s the loss of a parent, a child, a job, grief is a healthy response. To grieve is to heal.” She shrugged. “It isn’t easy, but it’s that simple.”

Sophie sipped her wine. “But you don’t have to grieve in total isolation. You can still see people, can’t you?”

Nina smiled. “Certainly, and I will.”

“As I said, give Michael a chance. He’s one of the nicest men I know. One in a million. He’s quite a catch for a woman looking for a mate.”

Something in the way she said it made Nina prick up her ears. Instinct warned her these were murky waters, to tread carefully. And she wasn’t looking for a mate, the thought was ridiculous.

Finishing her glass, Sophie glanced at her watch and stood. “Goodness me. It’s late. I have an early call in the morning.” She squeezed Nina’s shoulder. “I’m glad we talked. I worry that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Nina accompanied her outside. “Don’t worry. I’m doing all right.” “Isn’t that your phone ringing?” Sophie asked.

Nina cocked her head to the side. “So it is.” She touched her cheek briefly to Sophie’s and shut the door on her friend’s receding form.

Chapter 9
 

The phone wasn’t in its holder. Nina stood still, listening to locate the cordless.
Ahh, there, on the couch in the den.

After her hello, Danny’s throaty voice answered. “Hi Mami.”

“Oh, Danny….”

“Are you feeling ill? You sound strange.”

Pressing the receiver to her ear, Nina wandered into the office. “I was just seeing a friend out and rushed to grab the phone before the answering machine kicked in. Thank you for the flowers, chéri. That was so sweet of you.”

“Glad you received them.”

“How’s your job?”

“Great. The cell-phone business is booming. The good news is my team has the highest quarterly turnover, so we all received a bonus.” His voice trembled with excitement, and he cleared his throat before he resumed. “You are now talking to the Director of Sales, Europe.”

“Danny, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

His laugh was soft. “It’s quite a challenge. But enough about me. Your publisher in New York phoned. I gave him your number in Cape Coral.”

“Thanks. He called this afternoon, wanted to commission a book on alcoholism, but I turned him down, told him I’m writing a novel.” She paused for impact “He asked to see an outline.”

“Great! Did you give him a definite no?”

“For the documentary, I did. My novel is going well, I want to concentrate on that. Let’s see what he says after he’s read the outline—maybe he won’t like it.”

“Come on, Mami, think positive. Maybe the publisher will love it.”

Nina laughed quietly. “You’re right, I’ll think positive.” She leaned back in her chair. “I want to do other things besides write.”

“That’s a good idea; you need to get out among people, meet new friends, have some fun.”

Hmm … both Danny and Sophie pushing her to see people, not something she wanted to get into, at least not over the phone.

“Have you talked to Lillian recently?” she asked to change the subject.

“Yes, a few days ago. We talked about you. Lillian’s angry.”

“I know. Nothing I say seems to get through to her.”

A little twinge of caution warned Nina to be careful not to risk playing one child against the other. It wasn’t worth gambling her good relationship with Danny on the slim chance of repairing the rift with Lillian.

“Papa asked me for your phone number and address.”

“But he has them both.”

“He doesn’t know you’re in Cape Coral. I wasn’t sure you wanted me to tell him.”

“He’s playing games. Tell him I’m here, for heaven’s sake.”

“Don’t get angry.”

“I’m not angry with you, chéri. But I’m furious with Papa.”

Danny’s sigh was audible. “You’re entitled, Mom.”

“Thanks for understanding. It was good of you to call. Love you. We’ll talk soon again.”

“Love you, too. Bye, Mami.”

Danny’s warm voice stayed with her long after the connection was broken.

She remained by her desk, a finger outlining the faces of her children and granddaughters in the photo, missing them a constant ache in her heart.

Nina had kept the many years of André’s love affairs to herself, not sharing them with Lillian and Danny until she decided to leave André, and even then giving them a much edited version. Now she questioned whether she’d been wise to be so protective of them.

Next morning Nina stood looking through the living room window, waiting for Michael to pick her up. The yard called for some attention. The mailbox, green with mildew, needed washing. She wanted to put down some colorful plants to brighten that spot. A glance across the street at Brian’s house brought a lump to her throat at the thought of Cindy’s arrival, making her restless. Nina had tried to be careful, keeping her distance from Michael, mindful not to let him too close. Despite her efforts, he had become important to her. He was so caring and attentive. Would that change after Cindy arrived? The thought that she couldn’t count on him as before made her want to cry, but at the same time she understood he would want to take every opportunity to be with his entire family.

Michael’s car pulled into the driveway. Nina took a deep breath to still her misgivings, grabbed her purse and locked the door behind her. He already held the car door open. “Good morning. All set?”

She stopped herself in time before she leaned to kiss him on his cheek, French fashion. “Good morning. Yes, let’s go. I can’t wait to see your clinic.”

Nina glanced at him as he backed the car into the street. He whistled under his breath to a tune on the radio. The violet-blue of his shirt duplicated the color of his eyes. She quickly turned her head, embarrassed that he might catch her watching.

They traveled north on Cleveland Avenue through the shopping district, past a few hotels and strip malls. Farther along, the road narrowed to one lane, and the buildings became fewer, with empty lots between them covered by dense shrubbery and small trees. A trailer park looked deserted and forlorn. The few bungalows still standing looked old and in need of repair. Some had broken windows, on others the roofs sagged.

She pointed. “How can they survive a storm, let alone a hurricane?”

“We haven’t had a hurricane here in years, but with a storm they take a beating. Afterward, somebody puts in new windows, repairs some of the damage, and they’re livable again. Till the next storm.” He shook his head. “They seem to stay up with a lick and a promise.”

She smiled. “Is your clinic in this area?”

“It’s not far from here.” He pointed. “See the blue roof, there to your right?”

A few uninhabited cottages were scattered here and there, almost overgrown by vegetation. He drove into a parking place near a short strip mall.