Happily Ever After? Chapters 4 and 5
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Rating: G |
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Added: 05/26/2007 |
Complete: SIBC | |
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Synopsis: | A health crisis sends Sam to the hospital. A frantic Joan attempts to make sense of it all. Joan has a run in with an old nemesis. |
Categories: |
Misc Stories
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Keywords: |
Hormones
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Our Family
Chapter 4
Different Drum
I'm not even sure how I got there, but I found myself standing outside
the Peters' front door with my key in my hand. It's funny, but I don't
think I'll ever consider myself a "Peters." Ironically, it wasn't really
Sam's last name either, if the intention had been to give him the last
name of his biological father.
It was just after ten o'clock as I entered the front door. The house was
dark. Was Sam even at home? My fear had been growing deep inside of me
all evening. It attacked my heart as a fatal illness would. I slowly
ascended the stairs sinking further into the depths with each step. I
almost found myself wishing that he wasn't there. I had no idea what to
say to him. Could we simply laugh it off as if it were some kind of
joke? My babies!
Feelings of helplessness surrounded me as I stood in the hall outside his
closed bedroom door. I stood there unable to act. I placed my hand on
the doorknob and froze. I had no idea what to say to him. I did my best
to convince myself that my only concern at that point was the health of
the twins. Somehow, knowing that made it easier for me to open the door
and step inside.
He wasn't there! I went into immediate panic mode thinking something
horrible must have happened. I simply wanted to curl up in his bed and
hug my teddy bears till their stuffing came out. I found myself running,
stumbling for the front door. Home was where I needed to be. It took me
a minute to extricate my key from my purse and make my way inside.
Thankfully, Aunt Melissa was home.
"Auntie M? Have you heard from Sam?" I asked as the tears began flowing
down my face. She jumped off the couch and ran to embrace me. Her sudden
actions made me worry all the more. "Is he all right?" I asked with more
than a bit of urgency in my voice.
She shushed me and told me not to worry. It seems Sam did indeed have a
bit of spotting and had been rushed to the hospital. All of my fears
assaulted me and I collapsed in her arms. "My babies!" I heard myself
screaming.
"There there Joan, everything's going to be alright," she said
paternalistically. "Don't worry, the twins are fine. I just got off the
phone with your mother before you came in the front door. Shall we head
to the hospital so you can see for yourself?"
I found myself filled with anger for Sam and his cavalier attitude as I
ran to the front door waiting for Aunt Melissa to follow. She came
quickly and we made our way to the hospital. I found myself begging a
god I'd never believed in for the safety of my unborn children. We drove
on in silence.
Aunt Melissa offered to drop me off by the emergency room entrance, but I
didn't want to go in there alone. She parked the car and held my hand
tightly as we headed inside. I was too numb to speak and Auntie M took
care of finding out just where Sam was. He'd been admitted for
observation. I tried to rein myself in as I felt about ready to explode.
Aunt Melissa hugged me tight before we entered the room and begged me to
put my anger aside. She explained that if I cared anything at all for
my children, that I shouldn't take it out on the person in charge of
their care.
It took awhile, but I finally did calm down. We entered the room where
Aunt Alice and Mom were attending Sam and seeing to his every need. Sam
seemed to be in high spirits making me angrier still. Was he somehow
hoping to lose the babies? How could something that caused me such
intense agony have no effect on him at all?
"Sam!" I exclaimed as I ran to his side. All other thoughts were quickly
swept away as I hugged him tight. "Are you OK?" I asked, though my
concerns were more for the twins than his own well-being. I felt myself
a horrible person for even entertaining such thoughts. He looked up at me
calmly before replying. Still, I realized my concerns were really one and
the same. Sam and the twins were inexorably linked.
"Relax Joan, the babies are fine." He knew! He somehow knew that I was
more concerned about the twins than I was about Sam himself. I felt so
guilty; dirty, inferior, not worthy of his love at all. I was completely
and utterly ashamed. I began wailing uncontrollably. This wasn't
supposed to be happening. I found it more difficult to breathe with each
inhaled breath. The last thing I remembered was the look of concern on
Sam's face as everything went blank in front of me.
From a distance a voice called to me. "Joan, wake up!" I felt my head
being gently shaken from side to side as the words were repeated. I
didn't want to wake up. I wanted to remain in hiding. Hoping it would
all just go away. More than anything I hated that I had absolutely no
control of everything going on around me. Maybe by remaining in this
semi-comatose state Sam would begin to see the seriousness of his
actions. I felt totally helpless.
"Joan, PLEASE!" a voice screamed. It was Sam's voice. Remembering the
talk I'd had with Aunt Melissa, I knew it would do no good to upset him
any more than he already was. With all the strength that I had I slowly
forced my eyes open. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. I still felt
overwhelmed and helpless. I needed to be strong for Sam, for my babies,
but wasn't sure I had anything left to give. I just knew that if he loved
us, he'd give up the game (for now) that he seemed to love more than life
itself. I really needed to talk to Aunt Vivian. Maybe she could help me
find a way to get through that stubborn exterior of his.
"Sam!" I screamed as I continued sobbing. I was brain-locked. Completely
unsure of what to say next. Seconds ticked away and I found that I wasn't
really sure as to his emotional state at all. Perhaps his seemingly
jovial mood earlier had simply been a front; a way to protect himself
from all that was going on. Not knowing what else to do, I simply uttered
the one safe phrase that I knew that I knew by heart.. "Sam, I love you
so!"
My stomach began churning as I fought back every impulse within me to beg
him to take better care. He began weeping harder as he strengthened his
embrace. "I'm so sorry Joan. I'll give up baseball if you want me to."
Did he really mean that? Was he just saying that to get me to calm down?
Could he forgo his dream for just this little while? Would it be fair of
me to ask him to?
I had no answers to any of those questions. I did know that the simple
fact that he'd say those words meant more to me than anything anyone else
could have said or done. I did my best to compose myself before replying.
"Sam, it's not what I want. I know how much pitching means to you. I
know how good you are and finally having the chance to show the rest of
the world that there's nothing you'd rather do. I don't want you to give
up the game if it means you're going to wind up hating me and the twins.
It's going to kill me to watch you take the mound again, but if the
Doctor says it's ok, then ok it is."
I really hadn't intended to give him an out like that. My heart wanted
to simply lay down the law. I felt this growing sense of worry deep
within me. I found myself hoping that Dr. Feingold would tell Sam that
it would be in the best interests of the babies if he waited till next
season to continue chasing his dream. Would Sam ever be able to forgive
me my thoughts? Could I hide them from him? It was very late on a
Saturday evening when Dr. Feingold herself walked through the door.
I studied her face carefully, looking for signs of an ally or an enemy.
Her expression was unreadable. "Well Sam, I've been all over your charts
and it looks like everything's fine. I'm not so sure you should be
pitching anymore this season though." A huge sigh of relief escaped me. I
knew I'd never be able to hide my true feelings. I began looking to Mom
and Aunt Alice for support. Sam couldn't pitch without Aunt Alice's
permission, or maybe he could, but I knew that he wouldn't.
"Dr. Feingold, thanks for coming so late on a Saturday. Is he really ok?"
I asked. She looked at me strangely for a moment before grasping my
meaning.
"Yes, Joan, is it? As I said, I've reviewed all of Sam's records and
"he" seems to be doing fine. And, by that I mean the babies are doing
fine as well." I could tell she felt uncomfortable referring to the
fetuses as babies, but it set my mind at ease. "Sam, before you even
think about playing baseball again, you're going to have to be checked by
me. I'll decide before your next pitching assignment whether or not
you're fit for duty."
I began to take slow, even breaths. Thank God! The babies were alright.
Now I needed to figure out how to deal with Sam. Could I find the way to
make sure he understood the consequences of his actions? I began to feel
an overpowering need for sleep. I kissed Sam gently on the forehead and
curled up in a ball on the vacant bed next to his own. Within moments I
was sound asleep.
Sunday morning I was awakened unintentionally by a pair of nurses that
came in to check on Sam's condition. It took me a few moments to realize
just where I was. I looked over at Sam and watched him as he slept
peacefully. Even the nurses' actions tending to him didn't rouse him. My
anger rose just a bit as I considered how foolish the reason for us being
here was. This whole thing shouldn't have happened.
I was glad that he was sleeping soundly. To me that meant that he'd
accepted the Doctor's words the night before. Though I'd not yet heard
the story, I was beyond glad that Sam had told someone that he was
spotting. In a way that showed some sense of responsibility. He didn't
just ignore it. What was I supposed to do now? Should I simply be the
loving, supporting wife, or should I take a more aggressive stand? I had
no clue how to proceed.
I got up off the bed, went and took a quick shower. The mere water
droplets reminded me of a fresh spring rain washing me clean. My worries
slowly began to lessen. I got dressed, grabbed my hand bag and did what I
could with the makeup that I was never without anymore. I pulled a chair
up next to his bed, sat down and took one of his hands in my own. I
squeezed gently. Just hard enough to let him know that I was there.
I silently waved the aide away when she came in with his breakfast. I
knew that sleep was more important at this point than being awakened for
some dreadful hospital food. I sat there drifting in and out of
consciousness as Sam continued to sleep. Finally, around one o'clock he
awoke with a start. Pretty much the same way that I had hours earlier.
"Joan, what are we doing here?" he asked seriously. Without missing a
beat I gently explained all that had happened the night before. He
reacted as though he were hearing it all for the first time. I told him
that Dr. Feingold would be in this afternoon to check him out again. It
was then that I remembered a scheduled band practice for the afternoon. I
really hated the idea of missing it, but if I was expecting Sam to
consider giving up baseball, then I had to be ready to do the same. I
told Sam that I'd be back in a little bit and went to find a pay phone to
call Darla.
She seemed both upset and understanding as I told her that I'd be unable
to make it to band practice. She went on to tell me to call her when I
got home. I was concerned about my place in the band, but nothing was
more important than Sam and the twins. I thanked her for her support and
we said our goodbyes.
I found my way back to the room and Sam had taken it on his own to
shower. I wasn't sure that he was even supposed to be out of bed. I
started worrying all over again. Was I going to be an emotional wreck for
the next seven months? I did my best to calm down, took a seat and waited
for him to finish up. He was taking a very un-Sam-like shower. Usually he
was in and out of there in five minutes time. I finally got up and went
in to check on him. He was fine.
I had to find some way to put a check on my emotions. I wasn't his
mother. Having missed both breakfast and lunch, I asked him if I could
get him something to eat. I made my way down to the cafeteria and bought
him the cheeseburger that he requested. I also got him the garden salad
and an iced tea. I was going to make sure he ate the salad before he had
a bite of that burger. Perhaps I was turning into his mother?
I found myself wondering just where the parents were when they burst into
the room all smiles and hugs. Dr. Feingold came in around three and asked
us to please leave the room so she could examine the patient. The four of
us left the room cooperatively and waited expectantly for the doctor's
prognosis. It wasn't long before she beckoned us back inside. The doctor
pronounced Sam "fit as a fiddle" and told him it was time to go home.
Once again I heaved a sigh of relief.
Aunt Alice signed the patient out and an aide wheeled him to the door. He
tried several times to get up and walk when I told him as sternly as I
knew how to simply sit there and enjoy the ride. I really didn't want to
be his mother. The ride home was uneventful. I got Sam up to his room and
into bed. I began doing laundry and wistfully thought about my friends. I
found myself worrying that even now they were making plans to replace me.
I absolutely wasn't in the mood to be there. Let them do their own damned
laundry, cook their own dinners and take care of themselves. For Christ's
sake! These weren't children here. OK, perhaps Sam needed a bit of extra
attention given the situation. I knew that I just had to get away or I
was going to explode. I told Aunt Alice I was going for a walk and
without any further ado, I headed for the boardwalk.
I bought myself a hot dog and sat down on a bench to eat it as I watched
the care-free vacationers enjoy this glorious Sunday evening. Life
shouldn't be this hard. A few months ago my biggest worry had been that
Mom might make pork chops for dinner. I began to feel that I was spending
way too much time feeling sorry for myself. How was I going to stop doing
that? I took my pills and washed them down with the last bit of soda. I
carefully applied a fresh coat of red lipstick to my lips and stared
seductively out at the world in front of me.
I flipped the back of the bench the other way, lit a cigarette and became
lost in the vastness of the Atlantic before me. I knew I had to take
charge of things, but how? Although I knew what I had to do, I really
just wanted to go home, go up to my room, climb into my bed and hug my
stuffed animals till I fell asleep. I slowly shook myself out of my
reverie. Harboring such thoughts wasn't going to get me anywhere.
I went and ordered a large pepperoni pizza and slowly made my way to
Sam's. As I walked I remembered the last time I'd done this exact same
thing. He'd told me he was injured yet had gone out with the boys. If he
wasn't home this time then all bets were off. As impossible as it seemed,
I decided before opening the door that if he wasn't there, if he refused
to cooperate, I was done with him. A certain hardness embraced my being
as I made my way to the kitchen. Aunt Alice was nowhere to be found as I
placed the entire pizza, box and all in the oven. I put the oven on warm
and made my way up to Sam's bedroom. I'd simply never get used to
referring to that room as "our" bedroom.
I needn't have gotten myself so worked up. Sam was all curled up on the
bed and sleeping peacefully. I gently crawled under the covers and
spooned him from behind. His arm grabbed me tight as I wrapped my own
around him. Mere physical contact set my mind at ease. "Sam, are you
hungry?" I asked gently.
He rolled over and stared deep into my eyes. He began apologizing yet
again. He told me that nothing was more important to him than me and the
babies. I melted at his touch and his words. Somehow, we'd find our way
through this. "I brought you your favorite, it's in the oven keeping
warm. Would you like me to bring it up to you, or would you rather come
downstairs?" He smiled at me warmly and told me he'd be right down. For
the first time that day I felt myself calming down.
We sat at the kitchen table and slowly devoured the pie. I couldn't think
of anything else to say to him. That is, I was afraid to say anything;
afraid that my anger would once again rear its head. I smiled at him and
watched him eat. He slowly seemed to be returning to his normal self.
After I cleaned up and put everything away, I slowly ushered him back to
bed. He made one last attempt to apologize but I shushed him with a kiss.
It felt good lying there in bed with my body pressed up against his own.
I slowly drifted off with my arm and leg wrapped around him. We were in
this together and would see it through to the end.
Monday morning finally arrived and I woke up feeling refreshed. I sat on
the edge of the bed and tried to remember the last time I'd awakened
feeling so positive about everything. It had been awhile. I took a
shower, put on some clothes and made my way down to the kitchen. Aunt
Alice was sitting at the table drinking coffee and smoking. I was tempted
to tell her that smoking wasn't allowed inside and quickly remembered
that I was a guest in her home. My earlier sense of well being vanished
in a heartbeat.
I guessed she was dealing with demons of her own. The look I read on her
face told me that it was all my fault that things had turned out this
way. My attempts at turning her home into someplace where people might
actually want to live seemed to simply piss her off. I needed to be with
Sam. If the safety of the twins hadn't been my primary concern, I'd have
been gone.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, lit a cigarette and attempted to engage
her in conversation. I was wasting my time. My status here had been
reduced from a guest who'd overstayed her welcome to that of an insect in
need of extermination. Was I imagining all this? She ignored my first
attempt to speak to her. I thought for a moment that perhaps she hadn't
heard me. I tried again. The result was the same. I gave up.
I stood up and took my coffee into the backyard. Everything seemed
peaceful and perfect outside. The birds were chirping, the wind sang her
wondrous song, and the scent of the ocean surrounded me. After a time I
returned to the kitchen. Aunt Alice had left the building. All that
remained was her coffee cup sitting next to the sink and a filthy ashtray
on the kitchen table.
For a moment I took it personally. I thought she was doing this to piss
me off, make me uncomfortable. Then I realized that she was probably just
doing what she always did. My presence had no effect on her behavior one
way or the other. I knew I couldn't stay under her roof much longer. At
this point I began to wonder if I'd make it till Aunt Melissa headed back
home. I found myself running for my own front door.
Shandy greeted me joyously. Her look suggested that she missed me.
Perhaps that was a mere reflection from my own eyes. I hugged her tight
and rubbed her coat lovingly. She rolled over on her back with her paws
straight in the air and wagged her tail incessantly as I continued to
caress her. The house was empty as the kitchen clock neared ten.
I took out my list of prospects and began making phone calls. By noon I'd
lined up seven jobs for the week. It seemed to be getting easier all the
time. My reputation as a fast and reliable painter had been growing and
Mr. Hospin's kind words of recommendation aided me in my quest.
Finally, I made my way back across the street. Sam was sitting at the
kitchen table eating a leftover slice of cold pizza.. I smiled at him and
grabbed one for myself. So, this was what married life was all about, I
thought and laughed derisively. The love in Sam's eyes washed over me
from across the table. He hadn't a clue as to the turmoil that tore at my
being. I finished my food and told him I had to get to work. It wasn't a
lie...
Chapter 5
Sailing
It was closing in on five o'clock as I made my way back home. Home, I
thought bitterly. I felt like I had no home anymore. I felt like I was
doing constant battle with depression and slowly but surely losing. Sam
was sprawled on the living room couch when I entered. He was actually
reading a book. He quickly closed it and slid it under the couch before I
could glimpse the title. Why was he hiding it from me? Was he
embarrassed?
"Sam," I said in a half-whisper, "how are you feeling?" He smiled up at
me, but didn't move. He held his arms wide as if requesting an embrace. I
walked over to him, hugged him and kissed him gently on the forehead. Why
was I feeling so lost, so alone? Sam didn't have his antennae up and
hadn't a clue as to my mood, or so I thought.
"Joan, I'm fine. Are you all right?" I couldn't shake the sad smile that
seemed glued to my face. I tried as hard as I could to think happy
thoughts. It wasn't working.
"I'm fine Sam," I said as I kissed him on the forehead yet again. "What
would you like for dinner?" I almost hoped he'd reply "you" as he'd once
done. Maybe with his help I could somehow snap out of it. That wasn't to
be.
"Whatever you feel like making is fine with me," he half-laughed and
reached under the couch for his book. At that point I didn't even want to
know what he'd been reading. I got up, walked into the kitchen and began
defrosting some hamburger in the microwave.
I sat down at the kitchen table while the oven worked its magic, put my
head in my hands and cried. Hell, I was only fourteen years old. I sat
there exploring my options for a minute or two. In the end I decided that
running away wouldn't help. Nothing would help.
The microwave oven pinged and I began making meatballs as my eyes swelled
with tears. Was this all I had to look forward to for the rest of my
life? A sudden wave of exhaustion nearly knocked me off my feet. I sat
down again, before I fell down.
I shouldn't be feeling this tired. The painting job had been a simple
one. As easy as it had been, I thought about raising my rates. People
seemed too eager to hire me. Nah, now was not the time to get greedy. I
filed such thoughts away for future reference. I still felt like running
away, but there was nowhere to go.
With dinner cooking, I told Sam I was going out for a few minutes and
exited before he could reply. I felt like Shandy was the only one in the
universe that understood me and with her in mind I ran across the street
and into my house. She ran over and sat at my feet looking up at me with
eyes of adoration. I bent over, hugged her tight, and told her that I
missed her too. She followed me into the kitchen with her tail wagging at
break-neck speed.
Aunt Melissa was scoping out the kitchen contents as if trying to decide
just what to make for dinner. "Hi Auntie M," I said as I rushed over to
embrace her. "What are you up to?" I asked knowing full well.
"I'm trying to decide just what to make for dinner, and whether or not to
invite you and your husband." I smiled at her and told her that dinner
was already in the oven and that she and Mom were more than welcome to
join us.
"So you actually do know how to cook?" she cried as a booming laugh found
it's way out.
"Just bring my mother and your appetite," I said as I finally calmed
down. I felt so much better over here. The only thing that made sense
was that being at Sam's sent me into the depths of despair. I knew it was
crazy, but I decided at that moment that we were going to eat over here.
I'd simply bring the meatballs over in a casserole dish when they were
finished. I brightened at the thought.
"In fact, since I'm in such a good mood, I'm going to bring dinner over
here," I told her without revealing my true reasons for doing so. Aunt
Melissa smiled at me and began helping me set the table in the dining
room. As much as I hated having given up my room, I found myself feeling
more sad at the prospect of Aunt Mel leaving. I just had to find a way
past all of this.
"You can make the salad," I said to her in an authoritative manner. I'll
take care of everything else. I told her I'd be right back and ran down
to the corner market to pick up a loaf of Italian bread. No one ever
looked at me anymore in a way that suggested that I wasn't who I appeared
to be. In a way that made me happy, yet in another way I was saddened
that no one seemed to miss "John." I guess you just can't please some
people I considered and laughed sardonically at my own twisted sense of
humor.
I walked back in the front door, strolled into the kitchen, handed Auntie
M the loaf and said: "here, do something with this." My heart just
wasn't in it. I could tell she was tempted to ask me what was wrong, but
was wise enough to just let it be. I began to feel better just being
"there." I kept reminding myself that current living conditions were only
temporary. I went back across the street to check on the meatballs and to
inform Sam that we were eating dinner at "my" house.
He didn't question why. He seemed to know intuitively that I simply
needed to be there. The faintest bit of resentment began building with
regards to Sam's overall cavalier attitude. Though he had his moments, he
didn't really seem to care about anything other than baseball. I prayed
that I was mistaken.
We went back over to my house as a couple and Sam made a beeline for the
fridge. Thankfully, he simply poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat
down at the head of the table waiting for his dinner. No offers of help.
I was glad that he'd given up alcohol, but still a bit dismayed about his
lack of willingness to pitch in. Aunt Melissa asked him how he was
feeling and he replied that he was fine but really missed playing
baseball.
Mom arrived home on time and no one thought it odd that we hadn't invited
Aunt Alice to join us. She hadn't been home when we left. Personally, I
needed a break from her and didn't remind anyone of her absence. Auntie M
oohed and ahhed over my meatballs and made me promise to give her my
recipe. I was pretty sure she had it already, but of course I promised
to write it down for her.
The dinner discussion turned to the mundane and for the most part I
simply tuned it out. My ears perked up when Sam mentioned his appointment
with Dr. Feingold on Thursday morning. I was filled with fear that she'd
tell Sam there was no reason he couldn't resume playing. Of course, that
was a double-edged sword. I wanted him to be happy and healthy, but I
didn't want him putting the twins at risk again.
Dinner over, I enlisted Sam's help in cleaning up. It only annoyed me
that I had to ask for his assistance. He started going on about some
sports' biography that he just had to watch later in the evening. Were we
growing apart? I reminded myself that I had my own interests which would
leave Sam feeling cold. It was healthy to have different interests,
wasn't it? With the kitchen all squared away, I ushered him into the
living room and sat him down on the couch putting the remote in his
waiting hand.
I went back into the kitchen and began preparing dessert. I wasn't sure
how it would be received. Slices of apples, oranges, and bananas all
arranged neatly on a plate. I took a deep breath and brought it in to
him. He smiled at me seductively as he took the proffered bowl and began
nibbling on the fruit. I was feeling restless. There was no way I'd be
able to sit in front of the television all evening. I ran up to my former
room and called Darla.
"Darla!" I practically screamed as she answered the phone. "How's my
favorite sister in the world doing this evening?" I began worrying that
the anxiety I was feeling had somehow found its way into my voice.
"I'm just fine Joan, I hope everything's alright with you?" she asked
with some concern in her voice. I found myself hoping that she was a mind
reader and would simply invite me over. It appeared that that wasn't
going to happen. We went back and forth a bit till finally I asked her
how band practice had gone without me. She told me it just wasn't the
same without me there and that lifted my spirits a bit.
"You want to get together this evening?" I simply had to ask. Silence
ensued. With each passing second I knew in my heart that the answer was
no. "It's ok, Darl, never mind, " I managed to blurt out before she could
say anything. Maybe I was just being too sensitive? I made up some absurd
excuse as to why I had to get off the phone and quickly hung up. I'm not
even sure if she said goodbye. I actually sat there waiting, hoping that
she'd call me back and suggest that we get together to do something. It
never happened.
I went in the bathroom, took care of business, washed my face and applied
a fresh coat of makeup. I knew what I was going to do this evening. I
checked on Sam and made sure he was ok, went and grabbed my old guitar,
put it in the soft case, slung it over my shoulder and headed for the
beach. It had been awhile since I'd played at all. I figured that the
gulls wouldn't be too upset by my performance.
I walked up the ramp to the boardwalk when a voice called out. "Hey
Joan! How's my baby?" It was Billy. Where the hell did he get off calling
me his baby?
"I'm fine Billy, but I'm not your baby."
"Not you asshole, my baby that's growing inside of Samantha's womb." I
felt every muscle in my body tense. I ripped the guitar off of my
shoulder and let it bounce on the boardwalk. I hit him square on the jaw
before either one of us even knew what was happening. He collapsed on the
boards right in front of my eyes. His two friends with him began laughing
hysterically. I turned around and went to retrieve my guitar.
"You going to let some tranny kick the shit out of you?" his friends
asked him as he lay there licking his wounds. As I bent down to pick up
my instrument, he attacked me from behind. He may have been good at
baseball, but he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.
"Billy, we don't have to do this," I said in a solemn voice.
"Yeah Joan, we do," he said and came at me again.
"All right then, let's do it on the beach where we won't interfere with
those trying to enjoy their vacations." I didn't bother removing my shoes
and made my way down the ramp and onto the beach. Billy was one step
behind.
"This isn't going to be like the last time I kicked your ass Billy. You
can still walk away now, but if you insist on doing this, I'm going to
finish it." I said the words calmly with no trace of fear in my voice.
Had it been just the two of us, I'm pretty sure he'd have walked away.
But, his friends were present and he had to save face.
"Just kick the faggot's ass and let's get out of here already," one of
his friends offered. I had no idea who those two were, but it was clear
that Billy was out to impress them.
I wasn't in the mood to simply dance out of the way of his punches,
though that would have been easy. I was intent on inflicting some serious
pain. I dodged out of the way of his roundhouse right and hit him hard
with a left uppercut. It literally knocked him off his feet. I was done
being polite. I wasn't going to wait around for him to get up and attack
me again. I climbed atop him and began pummeling his face. When I was
sure he no longer posed any threat, I stopped. His friends were no longer
laughing or urging him on. They stood there with their own jaws agape as
if they feared I'd turn my attention on them next.
"Billy, if I ever hear you say anything like that again I'm going to kill
you." A quick look of terror danced across his face. I was ashamed and
embarrassed by my own behavior. My stomach was churning. I was violently
ill. I quickly jumped off of him, grabbed my guitar and began walking
away. None of them made a sound in my wake.
When I'd walked far enough, when I turned around and saw nothing but
faint lights behind me, when I heard nothing but the sound of the
crashing surf surround me, I sat down and wept. Had I really just
threatened to kill someone? At the time I'd said those words, I meant
them. Still, having calmed down, could I actually do something like that?
I wasn't sure one way or the other. I only hoped that my message had
gotten through.
His words of torment chewed at my being. Had he really made love to Sam?
When could he have done that? The night that he admitted kissing him?
Had they taken it further? There was no way I could ask him if it was
indeed the case. Expressing such doubts would destroy our relationship.
But, what if it were true? My body became wracked with dry heaves. Soon
I was spewing my dinner everywhere around me. Was there any way to find
out the "truth" of the matter without raising any alarms? I found myself
filled with self-loathing for even having any doubts.
This, however, was too big. I couldn't simply swallow it and hope for the
best. Sam might hate me forever, but I just had to ask him. For a moment,
I worried that I might not believe him no matter what his response.
Still, I began to calm down as I thought about Sam. If the babies were
Billy's he wouldn't have married me. He'd have had the abortion despite
my protests. I knew that baseball was the most important thing in his
life and he'd never have offered to give up the sport if not for me and
the twins.
Logically, I knew I was right. Unfortunately, the world wasn't always a
logical place. Perhaps Sam was just blocking out any experience he'd had
with Billy? I was going to drive myself crazy if I continued on in this
vein. It was time to go home and ask Sam himself. Before rising, I opened
my guitar case and checked out my six string. It hadn't suffered any ill
effects from my carelessness. I closed the case up, hugged the guitar to
my chest and apologized to it for treating it so rashly.
The walk home was a long one. I half expected to see Billy still laid out
where I'd left him. Thankfully, he was gone. I never wanted to be that
angry again. I found myself thinking about Darla. Why had she treated me
so coldly? Had she and Fred found a replacement for me? Was that what
this was about? For an instant I found myself thinking that friends were
more trouble than they were worth. But, without friends what have you
got? Why was I feeling so fucking sad?
I arrived home and walked in the front door. Sam was still sitting on the
couch watching the end of some movie titled *61. It was some kind of
baseball story. There was a time when I would have cared. That time had
passed.
"Sam, I've got to talk to you," I told him with some urgency. He looked
up at me with concern as the final credits began to roll across the
screen. Did I see a trace of fear in his eyes? I sighed aloud.
"I ran into a friend of yours earlier," I said matter-of-factly. He sat
there and waited patiently for me to continue. I knew I should probably
just bottle up all the feelings that were assaulting me, but I just
couldn't. I simply blurted it all out. "Sam, I ran into Billy and he told
me that he was the one that made you pregnant."
A cavalcade of emotions swept over his face. Fear, disbelief, anger,
hurt, and finally love. He didn't get angry. It may have flashed in his
eyes for a split-second but in the final analysis, the only thing there
was love.
"Joan, sweetheart, come here." I was still battling my own anger and
found myself unable to move. I squeezed my eyes tight and willed my body
to take a step forward in his direction. It seemed to take forever, but
eventually I found myself safely in his arms. "How could that bastard
even say such a thing to you? Joan, you're the only one I've ever been
with. Before you say or think anything else, listen to me. You know the
real story of my own father. Do you think I'd attempt to perpetuate the
same kind of fraud on you? Darling, I'm not angry with you," he said as
he read the fear in my own eyes.
"It must have been horrible when that bastard assaulted you with those
words. I can't begin to imagine the pain that they inflicted. I hope you
didn't kill him?" he half-laughed and smiled at me. I had no desire to
tell him how I'd whupped him soundly. I only knew that I'd do anything to
defend Sam's honor and my own.
"Sam, I'm sorry I let that pig's words upset me. I hope you can forgive
me?" I said as tears filled my eyes.
He held me tight and shushed me as my tears began to fall. I felt so much
better being with Sam here in my house than I did with him at the Peters'
residence. What was wrong with me? Why should that make any difference?
We got up and said goodnight to Mom and Aunt Melissa. With arms wrapped
around each other we slowly made our way across the street and up to his
bed. He slept peacefully, nestled in my embrace.
Tuesday morning arrived and I awoke feeling, well, feeling great! Had I
undergone some magical transformation last night while I slept? I kissed
Sam gently and carefully removed myself from the bed. Today was going to
be a busy day. I ran downstairs and had a quick bowl of cheerios.
Thankfully, Aunt Alice was nowhere in attendance. I packed myself a
meatball sandwich and headed off for work. I had three paint jobs that I
hoped to finish before my day was done. A bit ambitious perhaps, but we
really needed to start socking away some money.
There was a staggering amount of money to be dealt with already. Wedding
gifts in varying amounts totaling well over five thousand dollars. Sam
and I needed to open a joint account. I decided that for now at least, I
was going to keep my earnings in my own account. It just seemed to make
more sense to me. For the first time in my life I'd amassed more than
$1500. Yes, I realized that in the "real world" that amount was a mere
pittance, still it was a beginning.
As I made my way to the Boswell's, I remembered that Melissa's wedding
was this Sunday. I hadn't spoken with her at all since Sam and I got back
from Sea Bright. The days just seemed to be zooming by. By six o'clock I
was done with all three jobs. I really was getting good at this. School?
We don't need no stinkin school, I thought to myself and as I'd been
doing a bit too often of late, began laughing out loud.
There was a certain satisfaction to be taken from the work. More often
than not anymore, I found myself making suggestions to my client as to
what part of their home they might want to tackle next. Tips were
starting to become more common as well. I found myself headed home with
well over two hundred dollars in my purse. I was still curious as to how
Sarah was making out sanding for Mr. Ferris.
Sam greeted me at the front door when I arrived "home." He hugged me
tight, kissed me, told me he missed me and had been thinking about me all
day. It felt good to be fussed over in that way. We stood there dancing
round and round in the tiny foyer.
"Sam, you do realize that Melissa's wedding is this Sunday? I should give
her a call and make sure that everything's ok with her." He hugged me
tighter.
"Where did I ever find you?" he asked facetiously. "I know I don't say
this often enough, but I love you Joan."
Those three simple words meant more to me than any others he could have
offered. Sometimes I was overcome with doubt. You couldn't turn on the
television without hearing about some famous couple that was ending their
relationship. Why should we be any different? Nothing in my personal
experience said anything different to me. Aunt Alice and Mom, both had
failed relationships. Was true love simply a myth? With those thoughts
in mind, I held him just a bit tighter and told him that I'd always love
him.
I made us a simple dinner. Well, it was too late to start something from
scratch, so I reheated some meatballs and pasta and prepared a fresh
salad. Aunt Alice once again hadn't been present. Was she avoiding me?
I smiled to myself and thought that I'd have to thank her if that was
indeed the case. Somehow, she had a way of making me feel that I just
wasn't good enough. We'd never really been close, but lately she seemed
to be working at cross-purposes.
It was Tuesday evening and I only had three jobs left for the week. I
busied myself on the phone and lined up three more. That would have to be
enough. What with Sam's Doctor's appointment on Thursday and cousin
Melissa's wedding on Sunday, I now had a full plate.
On Wednesday, the drugs I'd ordered from the overseas pharmacy finally
arrived. I now held within my hands the power to make the changes I'd
been longing for actually happen. The entirety of emotions washed over
me. Fear, trepidation, longing, hunger, need, and yes, outright worry
that taking them would somehow destroy my relationship with Sam.
I took the package, unopened, and stored it in the bottom drawer of my
bedroom dresser. I needed some time to consider the ramifications of my
actions. I had a very slight swelling in my chest, my nipples were
growing just a bit, and the overall sensitivity of my breasts was driving
me mad at times. Was I ready to take it to the next level?
Unfortunately, there was nowhere I could turn for help. The laws of the
land were against me and I was already violating the Benjamin Standards
of Care. If I was going to do this, it would have to be my decision, and
mine alone. I wondered if maybe Dr. Feingold could recommend an
endocrinologist? A doctor who could help me keep track of the hormone
levels in my bloodstream. I put such thoughts away for now and went back
to work.
The rest of the work day passed quickly. I was somewhat amazed that I was
earning more than a lot of adults were. Well, that was true only if I
kept up my current pace. While I could handle it on a personal level,
would there be enough work out there to keep me occupied?
Sam had dinner waiting for me when I got home. I smiled at him
profusely. Although his offering was barely edible, I savored each and
every bite.