Sue (23 page)

Chapter 33

Two things happened the following
week that prompted her to fill several pages in her journal. On Monday when Sue
pulled up in front of the office, she noticed a client standing outside the
door. As she drew near, he lit a cigarette and the smoke floated on the morning
breeze, a hazy reminder of Zeke. The smell pierced her, filled her with sudden
wistful longing that she couldn’t seem to shake all day.

And then her father called her at
work on Wednesday with news of a visit from her aunt Ginger and her aunt’s
long-time friend, Marge. “We’d like you to come over for dinner tonight. You
haven’t seen Ginger in over a year and she’s asking about you.”

Sue leaned back in her chair and
fiddled with the hem of her blouse.
“Ah, Dad.
I don’t
want to be around them.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve told them not to
ask questions about your circumstances. They’ve promised not to bring it up.”
There was sadness in his voice. “She’s my sister, Susan. You used to idolize
her. I’ve never figured out what happened between the two of you.”

“Nothing happened, Dad. I just grew
up is
all.
”

“Well, if you don’t want to come,
you don’t have to. But it would mean a lot to me.”

Sue gazed out the window at the
trees lining the parking lot. They were just beginning to bud out and the
summer promised to be beautiful. Yet inside, she crawled with unpleasant
feelings, remembering not only the cruel words she’d overheard when she was a
child but also sharing that painful memory with Zeke. He was wrapped up in so
many parts of her life. But no part of this was her father’s fault and he
shouldn’t have to suffer for it. Steeling herself, she came to a decision.
“Fine.
I’ll be there, but I don’t want to stay very long.”

Her dad sounded relieved. “That’s
okay, honey. If you just make an appearance, that’ll be enough.”

Sue arrived that evening, nerves
jangling under her skin and tension squeezing her belly. Aunt Ginger hugged her
tightly, enveloping her in a cloud of perfume, while Sue barely returned the
embrace.

“Let me look at you, sweetie.”
Ginger pulled back and examined Sue carefully. “My god, girl, you look
fantastic! I love your new hairstyle.
Makes you look so
glamorous and grownup!”

Her effusive praise only made Sue
more uncomfortable. First of all, Sue was convinced it was disingenuous for she
clearly remembered Ginger’s cutting words so many years before. Secondly, she
could see the frank curiosity in her aunt’s eyes. She might not ask about Sue’s
experience with Zeke, but she wanted to. She wanted it so badly her nosiness
emanated around her like an odor.

From the floral sofa, Marge nodded
at Sue and raised her hand in a short wave. “Hi, Sue.” She sat with her legs
tucked under her, in her usual peasant blouse and long skirt. She’d taken to
wearing small round John Lennon glasses and they made her look like some kind
of insect.

But Marge had always been kind, if
more than a little flaky. Sue greeted her without malice. “Hello, Marge.
Nice to see you again.”

Luckily, the meal was ready and on
the table within minutes. Sue ate quickly and made an excuse to leave early. At
the door, she had to endure more hugs from her gushing aunt and more insincere
compliments. A headache threatened as she finally tore herself away.

She called Melvin as she walked to
her car. “Can you come over?”

“Is something wrong?” He sounded
immediately alert, sensing the stress in her voice.

“No, not really.
I just feel like seeing you.” She sniffed. “I’m at my parents’ house right now,
but just leaving.”

“I’m in the middle of studying. Can
you come over here instead? Keep me company?”

“Sure.” Sue’s spirits lifted. For
some reason, she’d never been to Melvin’s house. Curiosity took the edge off
her angst. “What’s your address?”

“It’s the big white house with
green shutters on the corner of

“I’ll be right over.”

She arrived at his house, a stately
home in one of the better neighborhoods. A light shone behind filmy curtains in
the front. Melvin answered the door in gray sweat pants and a t-shirt that
featured a mustachioed grinning rodent with a wild perm. He stepped back to
allow her entry and then closed the door behind her.

Sue stared at him and then burst
into giggles. Just the sight of Melvin could cheer her, let alone the silly
clothes he sometimes wore. She pointed at his shirt. “What the heck is that?”

“That’s
Kotter
the Otter.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t you ever see the Welcome
Back,
Kotter
reruns on TV?”

“Oh, yeah.
I get it.” Now she could clearly see the resemblance between the animal on his
shirt and
Gabe
Kaplan’s character.

“I’ve got the entire first season
on DVD if you want to watch sometime.” Melvin’s grin was infectious.

“That’s good to know ‘
cause
, um, it’s definitely on my bucket list. In fact, it’s
right up there close to number one.” She kept a deadpan tone. “So where’d you
get the shirt?”

“I drew the character, took it down
to
Zap’s
Screen
Printing
,
and had it put on the shirt. Remember my private eyes shirt? I did that one,
too.”

“I didn’t know you’re an artist. I
wish I could draw, but I can hardly make a straight line. Can I see some of
your other sketches?”

“Aw, I don’t know. They’re not that
good.”

She gestured at his shirt. “Well,
that’s good. It’s really good. Come on; show me your stuff, please?”

He shrugged and led her upstairs to
his room, which turned out to be a pleasantly cluttered space with a
comfortable feel, full of the sort of incongruities that defined Melvin. The
bed was made, though not well, and topped with a regular pillow and a body
pillow. A large oak dresser dominated one side of the room, piled with what
looked like clean laundry waiting to be put away. The floor was carpeted in
dark brown and the window covered with brown, red, and tan striped curtains. Three
of the walls were a neutral beige color, bare except for a flat screen
television and a poster of the rock band, KISS. The fourth wall was a vivid
shade of lime green. Sue’s eyes widened at the sight.

“I like that color. Wakes me up in
the mornings,” Melvin joked. “It’s so loud I can hear it in my sleep.”

“I think I hear it screaming right
now,” Sue agreed. “I believe it’s saying ‘paint me a different color.’” She let
her gaze travel over the rest of the room. Melvin’s desk contained a laptop,
some papers, a
Spongebob
Squarepants
mouse pad, a little league trophy, and a sketch tablet. She wandered over and
picked up the sketchbook.

“I can’t believe you’ve never
mentioned this to me.” She smoothed her hand over the cover. “May I?”

He blushed. “I don’t know...”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so humble.”
At his nod, she began turning pages. Besides goofy cartoon characters and
creative doodles, there were other, more serious sketches. She stopped on an
image of an old man with a gleeful expression on his wrinkled face.

Melvin leaned over her. “That’s my
grandpa.
Before he got sick.”

“I like it, Melvin. His personality
stands out.” On another page, she found a skateboarder in flight above a
half-pipe.
“And this?”

“Just some guy in
the park.
But he was really talented. I took a photo of him and drew
from that.”

More pages, more well-executed
drawings. A dragon with glittering eyes, pointed wings. An elephant with its
trunk draped lovingly across the head of its offspring. A skull with a vine growing
out of the eye sockets.
A man in futuristic attire with a
binocular lens for an eye and antennae protruding from his head.
“That’s
interesting.”

“I like sci-fi.”

She turned another page and sucked
in her breath as she recognized herself.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Melvin
reached for the book, but she twisted away from him and continued to stare at
the drawing.

It was beautiful, haunting. He’d
managed to capture the intermittent melancholy she’d worked so hard to conceal.
The loneliness.
The cautious hope.
A subdued touch with the charcoal had lent her features an ethereal quality, as
if viewed over a great span of time. She wore a light-colored dress and held a
damaged flower in her hand. She stared at the exquisite detail of her eyes,
lips, fingers. “Oh,” she murmured. “It’s amazing.”

She turned to face him. She blinked
to clear an inexplicable mist from her vision, barely recognizing it as a film
of tears. “It’s really remarkable,” she half whispered.

“I’m glad you like it.” He gave her
a shy smile.

“I love it.
But
how?
Do you have a picture of me?”

“I did it from memory.”

Sue laid the pad on the desk and
stood. She put a hand against his cheek. “I’m just blown away, Melvin.” She
leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before stepping away. “Can I
have a copy?”

“No.”

“No?” A trace of hurt crossed her
face.

“No, but I’ll keep a copy for
myself and give you the original.” He smiled.

“Sign it for me?”

“My pleasure.”
He carefully tore out the page, laid it on his printer to scan, and saved it to
his hard drive. He then removed the original and using a small piece of
charcoal signed it in his neat handwriting. With a soft smile, he presented it
to her and she laid it next to her purse so she’d remember to take it with her.

While Melvin studied, Sue played
games on his computer. By the time she left for home, she’d forgotten about
Aunt Ginger. She didn’t remember the unpleasantness until she got ready for bed
that night and opened the journal to make her daily entry.

Chapter 34

Sue actually looked forward to her
next appointment with Dr. Camden. She eagerly followed the receptionist down
the hall. When the door closed behind her, she dropped into the chair and began
without preamble or pleasantries.

“Zeke.
He’s like an infestation that’s invaded my life. I never know when a reminder
of him will pop up. It can be over the most innocuous thing or event; it comes
at me before I’m aware of it and slams me down. Do you know I still avoid the
beverage counter at convenience stores? If I catch even a whiff of mocha
cappuccino it makes me
want
to puke.” With a weary
sigh, she pulled her journal out and opened it to the newest entries. “And it
doesn’t end there. So many little things bother me. I can’t stand poetry, of
any kind. The color purple, because it was his favorite.
Stupid
NPR because he liked to listen to it.
When men look at me in a certain
way it freaks me out.” She handed over the notebook.

Dr. Camden perused the contents and
paused on one entry. “You like the smell of cigarette smoke?”

“No. Not really. Well, I like that
certain aroma, when it’s first lit. When that guy outside my office fired up,
the smell immediately brought back memories of Zeke and it was like being there
again. Just for a second or two. But actually I hate the stench of old stale
smoke. The van reeked of it toward the end the trip. It was disgusting.”

The doctor read a little further.
“Tell me about your aunt. Ginger.”

Sue squirmed in her seat. “I hate
talking about this.”

Dr. Camden, as was her habit,
waited patiently.

Sue looked off into space, and back
in time. “When I was a little girl, I adored Aunt Ginger. She was pretty and
bold and flamboyant. I just loved being around her, hearing her laugh, watching
the expressions on her painted face. She was wild.
Fun.
In fact, my dad still laughingly refers to her and her friend as The Party
Girls. Their visits always
livened
things up. Then one
time I overheard her say I was an ugly child.” She grimaced. “It broke my
heart. I’ll never forget it. She said putting ribbons in my hair was like
planting flowers around an outhouse.”

The doctor frowned. “That’s a
pretty cruel thing to say.”

“It was. And it was a shock to me.
Devastating.
Until then, I thought she loved me like I loved
her. Anyway, I cried for hours. And I never told anyone.
Until
Zeke.”

“Did she know you overheard?”

“No. She had no idea I was
listening in the next room. No idea at all. I was supposed to be in my room
playing.”

“So what’s your aunt like today?”

“She’s still pretty, but in a jaded
floozy sort of way. Her features sag a little and she’s put on some pounds. She
drinks quite a bit, still hangs out in the bars with her friend, Marge.”

“Is she married?”

“Not at the moment. She’s been
through four husbands and lord knows how many boyfriends.”

“Sounds like she
doesn’t have the best judgment.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t have
good judgment. She’s a loser magnet and jealous as hell of other women,
especially my mom. Or so my dad says. I think it’s because my folks still enjoy
each other’s company, have had a long and happy marriage, and Ginger just can’t
seem to get it right.”

“Does she have any children?”

“No. I don’t know if she didn’t
want kids or just couldn’t have them. Now she’s too old.”

“Interesting.
So would you say she’s not entirely content within her life?”

“Never has been. Nothing satisfies
her. She’s always searching for the next thrill, the next new man, the next
job, the next hobby.
And on and on.”