CHAPTER 12

© GREG DUNAJ 

12.

       “She’ll be all-right Mrs. Days,” said the teenager brightly as she bounced the child on her knee. “We’ll have a great time.”

       Kris smiled and leaned close to Amanda and tried to kiss her daughter, but the child was more interested in the babysitter’s long tendrils of auburn hair. Amanda giggled as the hair hung down before her. Small hands caressed and playfully tugged the hair.

              “Ah, well,” said Kris, with a thin smile and a rolling of her eyes.

              She forced a kiss onto Amanda’s cheek and the child now turned her face toward her mother and offered her a wide grin. Kris smiled fully now and stroked the toddler’s cheek and allowed her fingers to trail along the bandage that sat at an angle on Amanda’s forehead.

              “We’ll be home around midnight.”

              “Okay,” said the teenager with a wince as Amanda turned her attention again to the sitter’s hair. The child had gripped a length of hair and yanked, hard. “Er, have a good time.”

              “The number’s by the phone ...”

              “Yes! The number...of the restaurant,” said the babysitter sharply, as she tried to loosen Amanda’s grip on her hair. “You told me already. “

              Kris watched as the babysitter struggled with Amanda. The child laughed and yanked through it all. She had two handfuls now. 

              “Oh! Don’t worry about us Mrs. Days,” said the babysitter as Amanda tugged her head down. “It’s okay,” said the teenager between little yelps of pain.

              “Do you... need...help?” Kris said, hesitatingly, her own face grimacing, mimicking the sitter.

              “No, nope, we’re gonna play with her blocks and read some books,” she said, forcing a smile. “Ow. You have a good time. OKAY?”

              “Okay,” said Kris, backing out of the room, seemingly afraid to turn her back on baby Amanda, “Nightie Night honey.”

              Amanda remained interested in the sitter’s hair until the front door silently closed. Somehow, Amanda heard it. She relaxed her grip on a lock of hair and began to scream, “Mama” loud enough for Kris and Robin to hear her on the street. Her screams rattled the windows. Kris and Robin to turn around and stared at the house for a long time.

              “Do you think you should go back in there?”

              “Not a chance,” said Kris lighting a cigarette already poised on a pouting lip. “We’ll never get out again.”

              She got in the passenger’s side and shut the door. Robin glanced again at the house that shook with every blood-curdling shriek, before getting in the car and driving down the dark street.

              At the restaurant the conversation was steered away from family matters by Kris. She did not want to talk about Amanda or the location of her husband and the status of his stupid trip. She said that any mention of Harry tonight would only inflame her anger and ruin her mood for the evening. And, God forbid, if Carlo came up in conversation, Kris said she would spit and hiss and there would be no stopping her at all. No, Kris only wanted to talk about movies and parties and who was sleeping with whom in the neighborhood. She wanted saucy details and gossip, and as always Robin was an informed, valued source.

              Weren’t the Sheppards getting a divorce? No, but she kicked him out of the house...more details forthcoming.

              Who was that good looking guy with Marcia Cavenaugh last week at T.G.I.F.? Her brother? Was he available? Yes, but he’s gay.

              Were the police really at the Drakes home to break up their party? Yes, but the rumor about Jonathan Drake being arrested is untrue.

              Kris prodded Robin about her latest love interests. What about that elusive stranger Robin has been eyeing on the New Jersey Transit commuter train? Was he still elusive? Yes, sadly. Robin said she has only ogled him. Though she is terribly attracted to him, for whatever reason she’s not mustered the nerve to introduce herself.  Robin allowed Kris’ admonishments to come without retort and agreed this was completely out of character for her.

              He is already seated in the last car when Robin gets on the 7:15 in Edison. There are no more seats available and she has had to stand in the aisle and to no avail has attempted to catch his eye. The other morning she threw herself at him, literally. This morning Robin had been able to inch closer to his aisle seat until she hovered over him, admiring his haircut and the color of his suit when the train lurched and allowed her to deposit a breast onto his shoulder. A reliable tactic. She apologized and graced him with a smile. He looked at her briefly and then returned to his paper. She had thought to wait for him on the platform in New York, perhaps to strike up a conversation. Yet, for some unexplainable reason she has avoided doing this. This is something she has done countless times before, but this man with his short cropped dark hair flecked with gray, his youthful face and smooth complexion was alarmingly attractive and she felt a pang of inadequacy. Perhaps it was his cool demeanor; he was more interested in the morning paper than the drooling dame before him.

              “Married?”

              “Naw, then he’d be all over me.”

              “Maybe he needs glasses?”

              “He’s reading the paper.”

              “Robin!” Kris cried, but offered no expert advice except to say suck it up and go for it. “You can’t let him get away. Follow him at least, find out where he works. Stalk him!”

              Robin smiled and rolled her eyes shamefully and swilled her Merlot. She resolved to continue the hunt Monday morning.

              A question about Harry’s trip was not answered. Kris only held a hand up, a cigarette teetering between two fingers and shook her head “no.”

              Robin waved her own hand, mimicking her friend, and offered Kris a mock grimace.

              “Come on! You gotta pump them brakes honey. What the hell’s the big deal,” said Robin. “It’s just a weekend road trip. You’re getting all upset for nothing.”

              “I told you I just want to have fun tonight. Wherever the hell Harry is, I hope he’s having a grand time. I don’t want to know. I don’t care. He could be in a strip joint in Philadelphia. He could be anywhere. But, I don’t care. I’ll bet they aren’t even close to Texas. I’ll bet there’s not even a concert. Shit.”

              Robin looked at her dour faced friend for a moment and shook her head.

              “Didn’t you say Harry went with Carlo Breese? I haven’t seen that guy for a while. Talk about crazy. Hey, you know, he’s cute. You think when they get back, huh, I can reintroduce myself. You think I got a chance? Huh, what about it?”

              The scowling Kris gave Robin the once over and from one corner of a tightly clenched mouth came “you’re fuckn’ nuts.” Robin laughed loudly at Kris and drained her wine glass.

              “Yeah, I know,” said Robin and she laughed again.

              The frown on Kris’ face softened with Robin’s laughter and although she did not laugh, her mood did not darken any further. A smile even pried the clenched lips apart. Robin poured the last of the wine from the bottle and the two women touched glasses.

              “To cute guys,” offered Kris.

              “And their erections,” seconded Robin.

              “And their erections,” said Kris. “Except for Carlo’s!”  And the two descended into a spate of lascivious schoolgirl giggles.

              The phone rang ten times before Barbara picked it up.

              Frank was sitting on his threadbare lounge chair, stocking feet on a hassock that did not match the orange corduroy of the chair. White piping had worn through one arm of the chair, and the twisted material looked like an albino earthworm dangling, hanging on for dear life. He wore a terry cloth bathrobe and socks, but nothing else. His hair pointed in every direction.

              Entranced by the television, colors dancing wildly against the contours of her face, Barbara finally picked up the phone.

              “Yeah,” she drawled. “Yeah, he’s here.” She turned to him and said, “It’s your harem calling,” and placed the phone on the table between them.

              Still slouched low in the lounge chair he made a feeble attempt to cover himself up with his bathrobe and answered the phone.

              “Yeah,” he said, with no visible change in his face. “Sure, come on over. We’re having some friends over later anyway, but that’s not for a while.”

              He placed the phone back on the table and then she picked it up and turned it off. Her eyes never turned away from the television. After a few minutes he kicked the hassock away. Its coasters squealed along the wooden floor and it caught the edge of the dhurrie and it folded up as he pushed. He stood heavily and scratching his belly walked between her and the television and into the bedroom. He trundled back into the living room after a minute with a small plastic bag filled with pot. He had put on grey sweat pants. Frank looked in the bag as he shuffled back into the room and flopped down onto the corduroy lounge chair, poking a finger in the dried herb. He pulled seeds from the bag and placed them in a pocket of his bathroom.

              “Kimberly’s sleeping,” Barbara said, and he wagged his head and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. “Don’t smoke in the house.” He shrugged his shoulders as he continued looking in the bag, as if to avoid her stare. And, she was staring at him, a hand leaning on her forehead.

              “Go in the garage, okay.”

              He licked his lips, arched his eyebrows and stood with difficultly. He shuffled off in his stocking feet towards the kitchen, his bathrobe fluttering behind him. His sweats were hiked up over a copious belly. He fetched a six-pack from the refrigerator and walked out through the door into the garage. There, he kicked a big iridescent green ball, a child’s ball, out of his way and the ball bounced against a wall and knocked a jar off a shelf and it crashed onto a work bench. “Shit,” he mumbled as waded through some more toys towards a plastic chaise lounge and two folding chairs. He pushed a tricycle with his foot, the final obstacle, and the front wheel, caught in a tight turn, spun around and hit him in the Achilles tendon. He cursed and hopped and limped and flopped onto the chaise lounge, nearly dropping the beer in the process. He placed the beer on the smooth, cement floor of the garage and rolled a joint. One socked foot rubbed his aching tendon and he muttered as he pinched the marijuana into the rolling paper. As he muttered, he wagged his head and grimaced.

              Robin and Kris appeared at a window of the garage and they rapped at the glass. He shook his head briskly, the cigarette gripped between his lips now, and he pointed to the door. By the time the two ladies were in he had lighted the joint and opened a beer. He did not stand.

              “Good look,” said Kris, of his robe and sweat pants.

              “Yeah, yeah,” he said, holding the pot above his head. “Beer.”

              Robin took the joint. Kris opened a beer and sat in a folding chair. As Robin stood over Frank, she took a deep drag on the joint and rubbed his head and danced her fingers along his bald spot.

              “Wish I had a watermelon,” said Robin. Kris giggled.

              “Yeah, yeah, yeah. What’re you ladies doing out alone on a Saturday night? The significant others are at a bachelor party or something?”

              “Come on Frank, you know you’re my significant other,” said Robin, laughing and hugging Frank to her belly.

              Frank allowed himself to be hugged. Robin ground her stomach into him. He grabbed Robin’s butt. Kris grinned, but looked away, her eyes settling on the tricycle. It was pink and had white and pink plastic tassels dangling from the plastic hand grips. Suddenly, Frank stopped Robin and pulled his head out of her grip. “Robin, you know how jealous Barbara gets. She sees this, she’ll blow her stack.”

              She gave him an incredulous look. “No, she won’t,” Robin said.

              “Yeah. You’re right, I just couldn’t breathe.” Frank had a big grin on his face.

              Robin laughed and leaned over Frank to hand the joint to Kris. Frank patted her butt and she rubbed lipstick off Frank’s head. Kris took the joint and sat back in the folding chair. She crossed her legs and took a drag. With her eyes closed, she leaned her head back and exhaled.

              “I need this,” she said, her voice breathy and deep. “Thanks, Frank. You’re a real pal. It’s been a rough couple of days.” She took another hit on the joint and sipped her beer.

              “Anything for my lady friends. I’m here to serve.”

              “Thanks, buddy,” Kris sighed and idly twiddled the air with her foot. She patted him on the shoulder and blew smoke straight up.

              “Well, serve me a beer honey,” said Robin, now seated on the other folding chair on the opposite side of Frank.

              “Yes, Ma’am.” Frank moved quicker than he had all night. He reached down and yanked a beer from the plastic six-pack holder and he even popped the top for Robin. He did not get up from his plastic chaise lounge chair, but he did lean forward and handed the beer to Robin. Before she took the can, Robin stroked Frank’s arm, and then kissed him tenderly on the cheek. One of Frank’s hands crept up Robin’s leg and squeezed her thigh.

              Kris was now watching them, through slitted eyes. She could not help herself. Kicking the air with one leg, she held her beer in her left hand and the joint between two fingers of her right. She began to gnaw the fingernail of her pinky.

              “Yeah, so,” said Frank, staring at Robin. “Kris, how’s things?”

              “Oh, just fucking great Frank,” she said, now looking at her pinky. “And yourself?”

              “Just fine. Barbara’s great.” Robin kissed him on the lips and rubbed his chest. “Kimberly got a gold star in school the other day.”

              “Oh yeah,” said Kris, without looking up from her pinky, “for what?”

              “Huh?”

              “For what? The gold star...”

              “Yeah, She got it for telling the teacher when she needed to use the bathroom.”

              “That’s fucking great Frank,” said Kris, her leg wagging, her foot twirling. She took a slug from the can, then another hit from the joint. She handed it back to Frank, though Kris had to hit him in the shoulder to get his attention. Robin was rubbing his head from her perch on the folding chair and the two were kissing. Kris sat back in her chair and dropped her chin onto her chest. She glowered into the darkened corners of the garage with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Her foot twirled in time to the noises coming from Frank and Robin. Her smoldering anger broke out on her face in a sneer that threatened to explode. Little flashes of lightning seemed to dance between her eyes.

              “Say, Kris,” said Frank, rubbing Robin’s thigh. He arched an eyebrow in Kris’ direction, but did not turn around. “I know I’m not a very good host, I apologize, but could you run inside to see if Barbara’s got some pretzels or something.”

              Kris wagged her leg a few more times, but she did not respond.

              “Please,” he said, finally turning around to look at Kris. He had a big, wide grin on his face.

              Kris tensed her lips after a moment of staring back at him and then stood abruptly.

              “Sure,” she said, a bit too loudly. “I’ll go get some pretzels or something.”

              She stomped off through the garage, kicking toys out of her way.

              Barbara was watching TV when Kris entered the kitchen from the garage. She closed the door quietly and walked into the living room.

              “Oh, hey Kris,” said Barbara, startled when she appeared, silhouetted by the night light in the kitchen. She sat up on the couch and turned off the tv with the remote and turned on a table lamp on the end table. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

              Barbara and Frank had been married for 8 years before they had Kimberly. The birth was an unplanned event. Frank worked for the state and Barbara a bank. Barbara had taken some time off after Kimberly’s birth, but now the three-year-old was in day-care five days a week. Barbara dropped Kimberly off in the morning and picked her up in the afternoon. Barbara was fried by the weekend. Frank managed to help at times, whenever he had the inclination, which was whenever Barbara had his ear.

              Kris shuffled through the kitchen and into the living room. She made her way to Frank’s chair and flopped down, but said nothing. She crossed her legs and sipped the beer she carried in with her and stared at the television though it was turned off.

              “Isn’t Frank out there?” Barbara asked, after an awkward length of silence.

              “Yea, he is...Robin too. He wanted me to... I wanted to come in... and say... ‘hi.’”

              Barbara looked down at the floor and sighed. Then she sharply nodded her head.

              “He’s a son of a bitch, the bastard.”

              Kris cocked her head to the side and turned her eyes away from Barbara. She sighed herself. A half smile danced on her lips but quickly disappeared.

              “Hell, at least he’s home on a Saturday night,” said Kris, leveling her eyes at Barbara. They briefly made eye contact and then both turned away. There was another moment of silence as the two women stared into the living room, past the television and at all the darkened corners of the room.

              “Are you and Robin running around trying to pick up guys?” Barbara asked, without turning to look at Kris.

              Kris made a grimace and sipped her beer. She gave Barbara a quick sideways glance, but said nothing in return. Barbara was agitated. She scratched at her blonde hair and squirmed in her chair. She stood abruptly, but then immediately sat down again, all without another word.

              “Come on Barbara,” said Kris after a time, still facing the darkness, “what’re ya take us for, a couple of harlots, a couple of home wreckers?”

              Kris rolled her eyes for emphasis.

              An audible sigh cascaded from Barbara. Her shoulders sagged.

              “I don’t know what you’re thinking about Frank and Robin,” continued Kris. “Nothing’s going on. I told you I wanted to come in and say ‘hi,’ that’s all. I haven’t seen you in awhile. I wanted to get the latest on Kimberly. How’s the bank? That sort of thing.”

              Barbara turned to Kris and stared at her.

              “There’s nothing going on?”

              Kris shrugged her shoulders and pouted her lower lip. She shook her head “no,” and then sipped her beer.

              Barbara scratched her hair again. She squeezed an eye closed and rolled the other in Kris’ direction. Barbara’s whole demeanor relaxed. She even smiled, making a silly face.

              “Well then...everything’s fine. Nothing’s new really. Same shit, different day, isn’t that always the way it is? Anyway, the bank still has all the money and Frank keeps working late. He’s barely home for dinner. How’s everything with Amanda?”

              Kris shrugged her shoulders and pouted her lower lip.

              “Oh, she’s fine,” said Kris, waving a hand in Barbara’s direction. “She’s a handful though.”

              “Yea, tell me about it. Kimberly runs crazy around here when she gets home from day care, jumping on the furniture and the bed, throwing toys. It’s crazy.”

              Both women shook their head in agreement. Kris finished her beer and balanced the empty can on her knee.

              “So, is Harry letting you out tonight?”

              “Huh?”

              “He’s babysitting Amanda, right? That’s nice. Frank would never...He’s a good guy your Harry, you know.”

              Kris paused in thought to consider this last remark. She nodded her head slightly and then lowered her chin on her chest. She turned in the chair to look at Barbara, her eyes wide and her voice dripping with sarcasm.

              “Do ya think?”

              “Of course,” said Barbara in an incredulous tone and waving a hand at Kris, as if dismissing her words as blasphemy. She smiled and sat back on the couch and chuckled to herself, but as she watched, Kris’ grin slowly receded to a thin lipped grimace and her brow furrowed. She had transitioned from happy to anger within seconds.

              Barbara’s jaw dropped open. “You mean he’s not a nice guy?”

              She leaned toward Kris with a concerned look on her face but inwardly happy for the chance to gossip. Kris only shook her head and for a few moments she said nothing. She tried to sip her beer, but the can was empty. Kris peered into the can and then twirled it.

              “Well!” Kris said, after letting Barbara hang for a few uncomfortable moments. She then offered Barbara an overly wide, garish grin. Her eyes twinkled. Her teeth glinted. Confusion flashed in Barbara’s eyes. She trailed her fingers along her lips.

              Kris sat back in the chair, crossed her legs and kicked at the air. Barbara grew impatient after awhile watching Kris for a long time.

              “Well is he or isn’t he?”

              “What, a son of a bitch or a nice guy?”

              “Yes! I wasn’t sure you two were having trouble. I had heard you were. I’m so sorry.”

              Kris stopped her kicking leg. She lolled her head and allowed her mouth to drop open as she leveled a stare at Barbara.

              “What the hell are you talking about?”

              Barbara leaned close and whispered to Kris.

              “I thought something was wrong when I saw Harry with that woman the other day.”

              “What?!”

              “Is that her?”

              “Who? What the hell are you talking about?”

              Kris’ eyes were suddenly wide and desperate.

              “The one he left you for... Wasn’t that Sally Warneco? You know, blonde, tits in her throat...”

              Kris laughed and shook her head.

              “What the fuck are you talking about? Because, I would like to know what you’re talking about.  No, what a minute. I don’t want to fucking know.”

              “But you said...”

              “I said nothing,” said Kris, gesturing with her empty can of beer. “Ever since I walked in here you have had conspiracy theories oozing out of your pores.”

              Barbara fell back against the couch and folded her arms across her chest. She glowered at Kris.

              “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you,” she said, exhaling loudly.

              “Whatever,” said Kris.

              “Fer God’s sake. First you tell me he’s cheating, he’s left you....”

              “Stop! Willya stop Barbara! Nothing’s going on. I got a babysitter. Harry’s gone for the weekend. He’s not screwing Sally whatever the fuck her name is. So, just can the bullshit okay.”

              The two women sat in silence for a minute or two.

              “Well, shit... I’m disappointed,” said Barbara attempting to break the tension with a chuckle.

              Kris turned to Barbara. It was her turn to have a face brimming with confusion. Anger and hurt danced through her. She snorted a half laugh herself; Kris knew Barbara was riding her, but she couldn’t let go of the anger.

              “What good are you? I needed a little something to get me through the night and you’ve got nothing for me,” said Barbara. “I thought you were better than that.”

              Kris could feel the anger smoldering in her, desperately trying to spew out. She wanted to unleash it, to splat Barbara against the wall. It was her defense mechanism; whenever confronted by something, anything, she simply tore it to shreds.

              “Sorry to disappoint you,” Kris said through clenched teeth. ”Robin and I just went out to dinner, had some wine. We figured your herbal prince could help with our mood.”

              “That he can do,” said Barbara, rolling her eyes.

              “Yeah, well, I think I need a little more help,” Kris said, standing, one hand on the arm of the chair, the other on the empty beer can. “I’m going back to the garage.”

              Barbara watched her from the couch, her two hands supporting her chin. Kris started to shuffle away.

              “So, where is Harry?”

              Kris wanted to scream. She stopped and with her back still to Barbara she bit her lip and sighed.

              “He’s off to Texas with a friend. To see a concert,” she said quietly without turning around.

              “That’s a long way to go for a concert. I’m surprised you let him go. If anybody would have a say in such things, I figure it would be you. I mean, Frank goes off for a weekend and he doesn’t even tell me where he’s headed. God forbid, if I said anything, he’d be telling me to shut up for weeks afterwards. I think he’s cheating on me, but tell you the truth, maybe I don’t wanna know. I just hope Harry’s not cheating on you.”

              Kris had her back to Barbara throughout this. Her head slowly sagged until her chin lay on her chest. Already conceding defeat in this night of fits and starts towards a happy ending, Kris felt withered and just wanted to go home and curl under the blankets, alone. But, Kris felt Barbara was antagonizing her, prodding her and poking fun at her. She knew if she turned around just then, she’d lash into Barbara with every sordid detail she knew and a few she’d fabricate about Frank fooling around with Robin. If she turned around just then Kris knew she would rip into Barbara and gain satisfaction with tearing Barbara’s boring little world apart. Another night Kris would have shot her mouth off and dealt with the consequences later, but for some reason her anger did not best her this night. Perhaps she was worried about her friendship with Robin, which would have been destroyed along with her pot connection in Frank. Kris shifted her weight slowly from foot to foot, still presenting her back to Barbara.

              “I’m going back to the garage,” Kris said weakly.

              Barbara continued, still holding her chin in her hand, her eyes cast towards the still dark television.

              “I mean your Harry’s such a different guy than Frank. He may be gone, but, he’ll be back soon, right. And, I guess if you can be sure he’s not cheating on you with Sally Warneco, things are okay. I hope you’re sure. You are sure aren’t you? If anybody could keep her man in line and put him in his place, it’ll be you Kristen. Lord knows, nothing gets past you. But, Harry’s a good guy, all those rumors are nonsense aren’t they? Why Harry is just perfect for you.”

              Kris wheeled around, her eyes ablaze, her lip curled into a sneer.

              “Well! Frank is perfect for you, you know why....”

              Just then the door to the garage opened and Robin bounded in.

              “Hey Barbara!” Robin yelled.