Love Deluxe (33 page)

Chapter Twenty Five

McKay’s sons were staying on the boat and he was with them in Destin getting things together for all our visitors. I woke as usual at exactly six twenty-four. Emily and I discussed the phenomena after John died, dissecting it for meaning, maybe it was the time he died, the last numbers he saw on the clock before he lost consciousness. The death certificate had arrived in San Antonio a few weeks back and I asked Emily to open it and read it to me. Accidental overdose of morphine, that’s how heroin shows up in the bloodstream she explained.

I drove to the airport to pick up Rob and Emily; they arrived a day ahead of everyone else. I turned on John’s iPod as I drove and listened to
Make Me Smile
and even though I got a little teary-eyed, it did make me smile. I drove along, thinking about the song, all the fun we had and how his unconventionality made me revel in life when I thought that was impossible. Something about the next song made me pull to the side of the road and listen.

“Sitting cross legged on the floor, twenty-five or six to four!”

Six two four
, six twenty-four, every morning. Driving through Death Valley he’d said, “Some say it’s about heroin use, I think it’s about escape, getting in too deep and just walking away to save your own life.”

My heart thundered in my ears, what did it mean, what did I know? My mother once drove to the hospital before she got the call that my sister had been in a car wreck, somehow she just knew. My grandmother climbed a tree when she was a girl to avoid being hit by a ball of fire she saw rolling across the road, she’d been sent to get the doctor to help her Mother through a difficult child birth, she climbed down and walked back home, she knew her Mother was dead. John was alive, that’s what I knew.

“Hey there, sister girl!” I heard Emily before I saw her; she was standing by the baggage carousel, her blonde hair very short and spiky.

“Love the hair! Love you, I’ve missed you.”

“No insults? What’s going on, am I under arrest and just don’t know it?”

“Shut up. Is that better?”

“Yes, it is, you had me worried. Rob, that’s my bag, grab it.”

We loaded their bags into McKay’s SUV and as soon as their seat belts clicked I said, “Okay, listen to this.” I played the Chicago song and asked, “Do either of you remember this song, do you know what it means?”

“I don’t remember it,” Emily said.

Rob, who was older said, “The band would never say, I think it was about drugs, being too deep into them and trying to get free. Why, what’s going on?”

I glanced at Emily, the friend I told everything to, and then I looked at Rob, the consummate “prove your case” lawyer.

“Nothing,” I said and drove to the beach.

Emily knew I was biding my time until we’re alone so we made small talk; she gave me all the dirt on the Alamo Heights crowd. I laughed and loved the stories but those people meant nothing to me after all. I think they started to fade away the day my son died, the day I became real and they stayed in that safe, make believe world.

“Let me see the ring, damn it’s a paper weight!” she said, reaching over and grabbing my left hand. “Look at that thing, Rob. Is that obnoxious or what? Holy shit, well I guess if that’s how you roll. By the way,” she said to her husband, “it wouldn’t hurt you to be obnoxious once in a while, I could use a ring like that.” We all laughed and when I pulled up to the new house she said, “This house? Oh my God! How many times did we ride past this place when it was being built and think how cool the people must be who could own a house like this on the beach in Seaside? And he surprised you with it and asked you to marry him here? Honey, your good karma has kicked in.”

We unloaded their bags into the large downstairs guestroom with a screened porch and hot tub sheltered by the dunes.

McKay came in while I was giving them a tour of the second floor, he handed me the keys to my new car and said, “For the life of me I will never understand why you had to have a Volkswagen.”

“Woohoo! I wanna see,” Emily squealed. “Is it the convertible? What color is it?”

“Pale blue, I love it, it’s my beachy car.”

“I bet you don’t ever put the top down,” Rob called after us.

“That shows how much you know, I do with sunscreen and a visor. Emily and I are gonna take a quick ride, be right back.”

I drove to the
Wild Blue Yonder
, got two beers out of the fridge, handed one to Emily and sat on the screened porch.

“You drive with the top down and now you drink beer? I’ve seen everything.”

“Em,” I leaned across the porch swing toward her, “John is alive.”

“John?”

“John Foster, that’s why I keep waking up at six twenty-four, we talked about that song on a trip one time. He said it was supposed to be about heroin use but it’s about escape, leaving, just walking away when the shit gets too deep.”

“But he died of a heroin overdose, maybe that’s what you’re remembering, the six twenty-four is reminding you of that.”

“I want him back, Em, I don’t need all this,” I thrust the enormous ring toward her. “I belong with him; we’re the tragic and the traumatized.”

“Catey-bug, I know you want that to be true. I used to sit in your room in Alamo Heights and watch your face light up when the front door would open and you heard footsteps hoping that Brooks or Henry had come back to tell you it was all a mistake. And I saw the aftermath when you accepted the truth. He’s not coming back, I wish that could happen, but we sprinkled his ashes over the Pacific Ocean.”

I handed her the car keys, walked to the car and got a blue pill from my purse, swallowed it and said simply, “Okay.”

Christmas with the family was the best we’d had in years, everyone loved the remodel at the
Wild Blue Yonder
and Daddy spent most of his time on the
Blue Moon
with McKay.

We enjoyed all our family traditions and finally my eldest niece held up a DVD and said, “Can you handle this, Aunt Cate?”

I nodded my head and we all found places to sit in the living room, McKay popped it into the player and dimmed the lights. All our old home movies and videos had been put together starting with me as a toddler being helped to gather Easter eggs by my big sisters, we laughed at the huge frilly petticoats under our dresses. There we were fishing on the Gulf with Daddy when he looked like he was seven feet tall and a hundred fifty pounds, Christmas at our grandparents with Nannie’s famous silver tinsel tree that was suddenly back in style, the nieces yelled, “I wish I had that tree!” Maggie bringing her first daughter home from the hospital, then the two eldest nieces at about three years old swinging in a park, the camera cut to Brooks who must’ve been about two, running into my arms, I was so young, not even twenty three. It all seemed to move in slow motion as I scooped him up and swung him around, both of our faces dissolving into laughter.

I rushed to my bathroom, sat on the edge of the tub and choked on tears as I sobbed. The sisters came in quietly and Mother and Emily. Mother sat on the vanity stool and cried, the others sat on the floor. No one said a word; they were just there if I needed them.

“I don’t want anyone to come looking for me if I disappear.”

“Darlin’,” Mother said, “don’t say such a thing, I told the girls we shouldn’t let you see that. You’ve just had the shock of losing John, I knew you weren’t ready.”

“Let me go,” I begged, “if it comes to that, I don’t mean forever, not to hurt myself. But, if I go off by myself for a while, please let me, please, I’m begging you, don’t report me missing. Trust me!”

“She thinks John Foster is alive,” Emily said.

Everyone started talking at once.

“You know that’s not true,”

“Why would you think that?”

“Didn’t you see his ashes?”

“Stop, all of you. Let me delude myself if I want to. I know what you’re thinking, look at the chance she’s been given. This wonderful man and everything he can give her, how much he loves her. I’m not saying any more, but remember, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

***

Everyone was packing to go home, I was lying on the bed watching Emily struggle to zip her suitcase.

“Damn, I must have made quite a haul, this closed easily for the trip here.” She unzipped the bag and rustled through it, pulled out a large manila envelope and tossed it on the bed. “Whoops, nearly forgot, there’s your mail from home.”

“Thanks, maybe there’s a letter saying I won the lottery.”

“Sister, you’ve already won the lottery that man is sexy as hell and he’s crazy about you. I’m not even gonna mention the money.”

“I am lucky,” I said, turning the envelope, feeling its weight. I laid it on the dresser, “Hurry up, you’ll miss your plane.”

With everyone gone, I emptied the dishwasher, put the trash out, McKay returned from playing taxi service to the airport. He lit the fireplace and I lay on the rug in front of it, pulled him down on top of me.

“What’s this?” he smiled, untying my sweat pants.

“We haven’t been alone much,” I said and his hands were on me, he pressed his lips to mine as he whispered, “Cate, my Cate.”

I wanted so badly to be in love with him, surely I could love him eventually.

McKay fell asleep as soon as we were in bed. I was restless, I got up and wandered the house, took out John’s things, dialed Jimmy’s number, got the same recording. Looked through his wallet and examined the Banff travel brochures, I folded out the pamphlet for the historic
Banff Springs Hotel
and was struck by the resemblance to the pastoral paintings John loved in the Louvre. A tingle ran through the ends of my fingers, what had he said when I left him sitting in front of
The Raft of the Medusa
? “You’ll always find me near mountains or water.” I looked at the pictures, read the specifics; “Five star resort Hotel nestled in the Canadian Rockies overlooking magnificent Lake Louise, world class snow skiing, private as well as group lessons.” I took a bath and a sleeping pill and slipped into bed with the man who was not my husband, yet I wore his ring.

“We should do something spectacular for New Year’s,” McKay said. He’d been busy the last few days, putting together some new business deal; he was becoming restless in retirement. “How about, Paris? You love it, I’ve never been and I have to be in Birmingham for a while after the first.”

“Paris is freezing now, and I don’t have any warm clothes here.”

He pulled out his wallet and handed me his heavy black American Express card, “Well, we can fix that.”

“I don’t need that, McKay.”

“What hotels do you like, the
Ritz
?” he asked, not letting me give the credit card back.

“No! The
Ritz
is closed for remodeling. The
Georges V
, you’ll like it better. I’ll have to drive to Pensacola to find decent winter clothes.”

“Go pick up a few things now, then you can shop like crazy when we get to Paris. I’ll make the reservations; we’ll go to the top of the Eiffel Tower and watch the fireworks. I have a meeting, see you tonight.” He gave me a peck on the cheek and was out the door.

***

I woke the next morning at eight thirty and my heart soared. I’d dreamt of Brooks at last. I dreamed I was standing ankle deep in the Gulf watching Henry swim far out in the waves. He was jumping and frolicking, free as a dolphin, waving for me to join him. I started forward in the water and felt a hand on my arm holding me back, I turned and it was Brooks. He was smiling his wise, crooked smile, he let go and walked past me, swam out into the water. He reached Henry and they became luminous as they swam away together and I heard Brooks calling back to me, “Go and see, Mom, go and see!”

McKay had already gone to Destin for the day; I got a Diet Coke and wandered through the house with such rampant happiness in my heart. I zigzagged through the rooms, savoring the dream, soaring as I replayed it in my mind, not knowing where to land. I picked up the manila envelope from the guest room, settled on the sofa and dumped its contents on the coffee table, trash, trash, invitations to events I would never attend and an airmail envelope with a foreign postmark. I picked it up and it was so light I thought it must be empty. I looked at the stamp, a snow covered mountain and the postmark read, “Banff, Alberta Canada.” I felt as close to passing out as I ever had. There was only my name and address, typed out and the date stamp, December first, almost a month before. I ran to McKay’s desk, picked up a letter opener and very carefully slit along the top of the envelope. I turned it upside down on the desk and three rose petals floated out, one pink, one yellow and one white.

Suddenly everything was fast forward, I began throwing clothes in a suitcase, I called Drew in Los Angeles, “I need your help.”

“Name it,” he said.

“I need a passport fast with my picture but not my name, it’s nothing illegal. I just want to disappear.”

“Wow, okay. Go to FedEx, have them take a picture and email it to me, I’ll text the address when we hang up. When do you need it and what’s the name?”

“Mrs. Robinson,” I told him, “you pick the first name, and meet me in Las Vegas the day after tomorrow.”