Four Friends

four

GERRI AND ANDY left Sonja in the late morning, went home and then to their respective jobs. Sonja was going to spend at least a night, maybe two in the hospital, but she was becoming more lucid by the minute, back in reality again. Still, a break like hers was going to require supervision at the least, medication and psychiatric follow-up at the most.

Paperwork had been piling up on Gerri’s desk, with the distractions and crises in her personal life, and she called Jed’s cell phone to ask if he could get the kids home from school so she could stay late to tackle some of it. She was more than a little conscious that if she didn’t have her oldest son stepping in to help so agreeably right now, she’d be completely lost. She also took note that he was coddling her, trying to warm her up, get her more reasonable toward his father, as though all this inconvenience was her doing, not Phil’s.

By the time she got home, it was nearly eight. Phil’s car was in the drive and when she walked in, the first thing she saw was his briefcase and laptop on the table in the nook. Then he walked into the kitchen from the family room.

“What are you doing here? Did the kids call you?” she asked.

“Jed called, said you had a really bad day,” he said. “Is Sonja all right?”

“She scared me pretty good, but I guess she’ll be okay. You got the story?”

“I did,” he said. “Kind of feels like the whole neighborhood is coming apart at the seams. You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she said, going straight to the refrigerator. “Kids eat?”

“Jed took care of that. He got takeout—their choice. I reimbursed him and gave him an extra forty bucks in case he has to do that again. Listen, it’s not working out, me staying in the city. I’m going to find something around here, closer to home, in case there’s some emergency. I don’t want to be so far away through the dark hours, when the goblins come out.”

She felt a smile threaten. The goblins, they called them—the problems kids had. The last-minute school assignment that was already late, a fight with a girlfriend or boyfriend, a ride that didn’t show up to bring them home, a disaster of any flavor. “Is that in their DNA?” she asked Phil. “Our children have never had any problem in their lives before ten o’clock at night.” She pulled out a bottle of cold white wine.

“Probably your DNA. You used to stay up late, get yourself all worked up over some problem with a coworker or family at risk and poke me at about three in the morning to work it out with you.”

“I’ll take the blame for that one,” she said. “Are you leaving right away?”

He eyed the wine and said hopefully, “I don’t have to.”

“Good,” she said. She grabbed two wineglasses out of the cupboard and headed for the door. “Hang out here for them if you can. If they ask, tell them I’m home, but had an errand. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Andy’s?” he wanted to know.

“Actually, no. A neighbor I barely know helped us with Sonja today. It’s reasonable to say that if she hadn’t stepped in, we might have left Sonja alone there, out of her head, for days. I think I should say thank-you, maybe try to get to know her better. If you have to go...”

“I can wait around awhile.”

“Because if you have to go, just let me tell the kids I’m home and where I’ll be. They stay alone all the time—they’ll be fine.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Work’s piling up,” she said. “You just can’t get separated, go to counseling, have medical emergencies and all that without some fallout.” She was about to leave, then turned back. “Are you going to counseling?”

“I am,” he said with a nod. He went to the table in the nook, opened his laptop and sat down. If he was staying, he’d get a little work done, she assumed.

“Getting anything out of it?” she asked.

“I’d rather have needles in my eyes,” he said. “I’d rather have another vasectomy. I’d trade two sessions for a colonoscopy.”

She smiled. “Those sound like good alternatives. I’ll think about that.” Once outside in the cold night she thought, that’s what I need—I need that Phil back. But he was damaged now and not the same in her eyes. She had never thought they were so different, but apparently they were. He was vulnerable to sex, she was vulnerable to a mere sixty seconds of understanding, support. Humor. Friendship.

She walked down the street to BJ’s house and knocked on the door. A young girl’s voice asked, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Mrs...it’s Gerri, from down the street.”

“Hang on,” she said.

In a moment a series of locks slid and BJ opened the door. She cocked her head, frowning, and Gerri lifted the wine in one hand, the glasses in the other. “I thought I’d thank you properly.”

BJ held the door open for her and over her shoulder said to a young boy and girl, “Can you go do homework in your rooms, please?”

They picked up books and papers from the dining table and exited quickly, quietly. “Wow,” Gerri said. “That was impressive. What do you have on them to make them obey like that?”

BJ almost smiled. “They’re good kids. Listen, you didn’t have to—”

“I thought you’d want to know about Sonja,” Gerri said. She put the wine and glasses on the table, reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a corkscrew. She went after the cork.

“I’ve been wondering about her,” BJ said. “Um...I very rarely drink alcohol.”

“Have a little sip of this, it’s good stuff. Unless you’re in recovery or something?”

“Just not much of a drinker. How is she?” BJ asked.

“Very unstable, but leveled out at the moment, thanks to drugs. They’re keeping her at least overnight to decide if she needs psychiatric intervention, medication, counseling, whatever. It turns out her husband left her yesterday. She went into a tailspin. Meltdown. You don’t know this about Sonja,” Gerri said, pouring, making sure BJ’s was just a small amount, a taste. “She’s the neighborhood health nut. She has a little business—she consults on all kinds of stuff—from feng shui to something she calls life patterning. She sells inner peace and tranquility, but she’s really always searching, always trying to find the answers. Herbs, exercise, meditation, holistic cures. She thought she had everything figured out. And yet—never saw it coming—he walked out on her without warning. She went down like a torpedo.”

“Wow. I thought she was just another suburban princess.”

“Yeah, that’s how she looks. Very superficial. But she’s the best person I know. She’d do anything for anyone. A few years ago, when she was still new on the block, I had a hemorrhoidectomy that just wiped me out. The pain was indescribable. My husband ran for his life, my best friend got weak in the knees and almost passed out just looking at me, but Sonja was there, giving me every kind of comfort she could pull out of her hat. Without her I don’t know what I would have done, and we were practically strangers. She removed the packing from my...” She stopped and shot BJ a look to find her smiling. BJ took a sip from her glass. “Well, suffice it to say, if not for Sonja, I wouldn’t have had a bowel movement in the past three years. She’s weird, but sincere. She believes all that shit.” Gerri sipped. “If it wasn’t for you today, we wouldn’t have rescued her. We would have left, waited for her to call.”

“I just thought the situation was strange. I’ve been watching you three for almost a year. She’d drive me crazy.”

“Yeah, she drives us crazy,” Gerri smiled. “Still...it is what it is.”

“You mind if I ask what you do? I know you work.”

“I work for Child Protective Services. Psychologist. I was a case worker for years and now, a supervisor.”

“No kidding? You’ve seen some stuff, then.”

“I’d venture to say I’m pretty desensitized. Life’s rough out there.”

“And you couldn’t see something was all screwed up with Sonja?” BJ asked, confused.

“I would have in a second,” Gerri said, defending herself. “But man, you got it right away.” She clinked BJ’s glass. “What do you do?”

“Nothing much. I work for my brother, an electrician with his own small business. I answer the phones, schedule for him and his guys, invoice. It’s not a big job, but it’s flexible and gets me by. I can cover the kids’ schedules.”

“Divorced?” Gerri asked.

BJ looked down. “Their father is dead.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not making eye contact. Then she lifted her eyes and said, “I haven’t had a glass of wine in so long. You’re right. I think it’s very good. I don’t know anything about wine, but I like it. This was nice of you.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“Listen, I know I haven’t been exactly...well, outgoing.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I figured you for on the private side, which is fine. Maybe if I knock once in a great while, you’ll let me in. No obligation, of course. You should know—not that it matters to you—but the three of us, the power walkers, we’re all separated from our husbands. Within three weeks of each other. It’s brutal. I’m not here to dump, but just so you know. My husband’s trying to carry his part of the load, but I’m relying on my son Jed. He’s nineteen.”

BJ took a sip. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

“Well, these things happen.” Something told her BJ didn’t want the details. She picked up the cork, shoved it back in the bottle and stood. “This is for you. Thanks for sharing it. I’ll let you get back to your evening.”

“It was nice of you to drop by,” BJ said, standing also. “I hope Sonja’s going to be all right.”

“She’ll be all right, we’ll look after her. Do you have my number, in case you ever need anything?”

“Need anything?” BJ asked.

“We’re a bunch of women without men around,” Gerri said. “At least I have a nineteen-year-old around much of the time. Yours are still so young. I’m right down the street. You never know when something might happen in the middle of the night—a fright or something. Emergencies, I mean. I’m not recruiting you for the neighborhood bake sale, I swear,” she added, smiling. “But I am on a first name basis with a lot of Mill Valley cops—CPS work and all.”

BJ went to the kitchen and got a pad of paper. “Wanna write it down for me?”

Gerri did so, then turned away from the table to go home. “Want mine?” BJ asked. “Even though I’m not much good in emergencies.”

Gerri went back to the table. “Looked to me like you’re great in emergencies. I wanted to be sure to say, I’m grateful that you got involved this morning. I suspect it was a very big step for you. It’s pretty easy to tell, you aren’t quite ready to get too involved.” BJ handed her a scrap of paper with a phone number. It said BJ above it, no last name. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for dropping by. For the wine.”

Gerri was all the way home before she realized she’d left the wineglasses on the table, two of her nicest. Well, there would come a time to get them. If she was any judge of BJ, she’d make it a point to return them so she’d have no ties. This was a woman nervous about attachments.

Phil was still at his laptop in the kitchen. “That was pretty quick,” he said, closing it up.

“Nice woman, but not really interested in finding chums around here,” she said, taking off her coat. She was suddenly so tired.

“I’ll take off. Unless you need me.”

“You can have the couch, if you want it.”

“Thanks, but I have court in the morning. I’ll have to be pretty,” he said, grinning. He shrugged into his jacket and picked up the laptop and briefcase.

“What are you working on?”

“Armed robbery. SOB fired on a cop. It shouldn’t be complicated—it’s a slam dunk. We’ll have a plea agreement before trial. He’s going away.”

“Ew. Cop’s okay?”

“Yeah, he missed.” Phil moved toward the door and Gerri followed him. She walked him out to his car through the garage. He put his stuff on the hood and turned toward her. “I’m really sorry about Sonja.”

“You don’t like Sonja that much,” she reminded him.

“Well, I don’t dislike her, either. It just makes me uncomfortable when she closes her eyes all spooky and reads my aura. Maybe I’m just paranoid, afraid she’s going to see some black squiggly thing that’s gonna kill me.”

She laughed. “Thanks for checking on things.”

“You had a rough day,” he said. Then he pulled her against him and for just a moment, held her.

It was what she needed, to feel him against her in the quiet of the night. It felt so good to have his strength wrapped around her; it had been three weeks since she’d felt the confident power in his arms. Then she pulled back. “I can’t,” she said in a whisper. “This is the hardest part to let go of, you, like this. My friend. My partner.”

“You don’t have to let go of it.”

“But everything is different now,” she said.

“It’s not for me. Come here,” he said, pulling her back. He put his arms around her again and her mind flashed back. Do you know how many times I put my arms around you to hold you? And how many times you told me not to get any ideas? God, Gerri! She allowed herself to be held for a luxurious moment, wondering if it was a mistake to indulge in him, even this safely, this briefly.

“Do you remember when I met you?” he asked softly. “You were my witness in a child molest case that was shaky. The second I met you, you scared the hell out of me.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said.

“Oh-ho,” he chuckled. “I knew immediately, you would never be uncomplicated, quiet. Manageable. You were on fire. I wasn’t sure putting you on the stand was a good idea.”

She pulled back slightly. “How’d I work out?” she asked.

“You were brilliant. I had to have you.” He pulled her back toward him. “How are we doing here? We making any progress?”

“We’re not screaming at each other, but I have a lot of issues.”

“Any chance we can work on some of those issues under the same roof?” he asked. “I hate not living with you. And the kids need us to be together.”

“Don’t ask me to take responsibility for that.”

“I understand,” he said.

She pulled out of his arms and took a step away from him. “I wonder if you do understand, Phil. The kids—they want us together again, no matter what the cost is to me. They want me to look the other way, get over it. They’re not hating you for what you did to our marriage, they’re mad at me for taking offense that you had another woman in your life for two years. I knew this would be hard, but I never knew that, no matter which way I turned, it would end up being my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” she said, suddenly hurting all over again. “It’s my fault I can’t live with you because of it, my fault I found out, my fault I got mad about it.... You spent two years boinking some woman from the office, but three weeks is too long for me to be upset about it! What is it with mothers, huh? Why is everything in the whole goddamn world always the mother’s fault?”

“You don’t think they’re just a little pissed at both of us?”

“No, I don’t. I think you’re coming off looking like a good guy who made a little mistake and I look like a stubborn, angry, unforgiving demon.”

“Aw, Jesus, Gerri—come on, let’s not do this. For a minute there we were actually friends.”

“There it is again. It’s like I’m doing it to you.”

“What if I let you hook electrodes to my balls and just fire away until you think I’ve paid? How about that? Huh?” he asked, giving in to his own anger.

She smiled at him and started walking backward. “Tempting, Phil. But I’m just going to try to resolve my problems with the situation. Thanks for helping me out tonight. Talk to you later,” she said. Then she hit the electric garage door button and closed him out.

He’d never get it. It wasn’t just the other woman. It was him needing the other woman. It made her feel not good enough. It bit so deep, she ached with it.

* * *

If it was true that men married their mothers, Gerri would be proud. Muriel Gilbert was on her short list of most admired women.

Phil had two younger brothers, both married. One lived back east, one in San Diego. Muriel and Stan Gilbert kept a small condo in Scottsdale, but they spent much of their time in other locales. They made use of time shares they’d had for years and owned modest investment properties in Boulder, Maui and San Miguel, Mexico, that they leased to vacationers when they weren’t using them. That, and homesteading with each of their sons for weeks at a time.

Having been married as long as she had, Gerri had heard a million stories about the worst mothers-in-law on the planet, but hers was the best. Muriel had embraced Gerri as a daughter the second they met and proved to be a fantastic grandmother who was devoted but didn’t get in the way too much. She was very careful to follow second to Gerri’s mother after the births and never pressured them for visits, for time. They started out as friends, for which Gerri had been so grateful. But then Gerri’s own mother died and had it not been for Muriel, she wouldn’t have gotten through it. Muriel came immediately, skipping her summer in Maui, and stayed on, getting Gerri and the family past that horrendous period, and then came back when Gerri’s father was dying, and again, helped them pull things together. But the time after all that was probably the most significant. Muriel stepped in as the mother Gerri had lost. Friendship yielded to kinship and Gerri adored and respected her.

Muriel and Stan were spending the spring in Mexico and they called every weekend to talk to the kids. Gerri knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped, mentioned that Mom and Dad weren’t living together at the moment. Gerri was pretty sure Phil hadn’t dealt with his family on this issue—all his energy seemed focused on making it go away. So she called Mexico.

“I have some news that’s going to startle you, so be sure you’re sitting down.”

“I’m sitting,” Muriel said. “What is it?”

“Phil and I have separated. We have some problems.”

Gerri heard a whoosh of air on the line, probably the sound of Muriel sitting down. “Merciful heavens,” she said weakly. “What on earth?”

Gerri took a breath. “The kids know the bare facts, so it’s only reasonable that you do. I just learned that years ago he had an affair, one that lasted two years. He admits it, he’s sorry, he’ll do absolutely anything to atone, but honestly, Muriel...Well, it was me. I asked him to sleep somewhere else for the time being. While we both get a little counseling. That’s the best I can do.”

“An affair?” she asked in a breath. “Phil?”

“That was my exact reaction.”

“Of all my sons... Oh, hell, of all the men I know, I would’ve judged Phil to be the last!”

“I know. Please,” Gerri said earnestly, “please don’t blame me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, of course not! Listen to me, Geraldine—humans have lapses in judgment and when they do, it’s their own burden. I hope you’re not taking this on. As if there was any way you could’ve headed this off!”

“Maybe if I’d been more...amorous.”

“Right,” Muriel said with a snort. “And you’d have been too damn tired to work, carpool the kids and see everyone fed and clothed. Then he’d have to have found another woman for that! The stupid fool! He made a mistake! Sooner or later you’ll have to let it be his mistake. Lord, I think I might kill him.”

Gerri felt her eyes well up. “Thank you, Muriel,” she said softly.

“Don’t thank me for making sense. I just hope he finds a way to win you back because if he loses you, he will have lost the best thing that ever happened to him. And don’t make it too easy for him.”

“Believe me—”

“All the same, think carefully,” Muriel said. “I know he’s not perfect and now I know he’s also not that intelligent, but do think this through. It will be hard for you to find a man who’s truly your equal and while I don’t know anyone more capable, life alone can be dreary. And sad. Very sad. Punish him as much as you need to, but dear girl, don’t be hasty.” Then she took a breath and muttered, “The ignorant fool!”

“It’s already pretty dreary,” Gerri said. “Muriel, thank you for not blaming me. Thank you for not saying I should just get over it, since it was years ago.”

“All I have to say to you, darling, is thank you for letting the stupid fool live. I hate him at the moment, but he’s still my son. No longer my favorite son, but I think I’ll probably go on loving him even though he apparently doesn’t have a brain in his head.”

“Oh, Muriel, I do love you.”

“Do you need me? Should I come?”

“No. I think we should try to carry on this way for now. He’s spending some time around here, in close touch every day if not always present, and he’s doing everything he can. We should let things simmer awhile. I have things to figure out and I can’t be distracted. But thank you.”

“If you need me, you have only to call. I’ll come at once.”

Gerri laughed into the phone. “That would serve him right,” she said. “His mother and his wife on his case.”

“Yes. I can’t think of anything more likely to make him wish he were dead.”

* * *

Bob was already at work in Andy’s kitchen when she got home from school at five o’clock. She positively sparkled when she saw him. “Hey,” she said brightly. “You’re getting an early start!”

“I’m laying down the ceramic tonight. You’re going to have to stay off it for twenty-four hours. It could slide the grout.”

“Okay. Did you have dinner?”

“I grabbed something on the way over,” he said.

“I’m starting to think you’re afraid I might poison you.” She laughed. “I offer every night, but you’ve always already eaten.”

He stood straight and grinned, patting his firm, round stomach and treating her to that hypnotic grin of his. “Look at me, Andy. You think I’ve missed many meals?”

“You look healthy,” she said.

“That’s not what the doctor says.”

“What? Is your doctor worried about you?”

“Everything seems to be holding, but he’s convinced I’m overweight and headed for a coronary. That’s why I try to stay away from him. I feel fine most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” she asked, suddenly stricken with worry.

“Doing the work I do, my back and knees kick up sometimes. I’m fine. My age, you get aches and pains.”

“Do you mind if I ask—just how old are you?”

“Fifty-three. Getting up there.”

“Well, you’re just a few years older than me,” she said, opening her takeout carton on the dusty table.

“Not possible,” he said, getting down on his knees again. “You look like a young girl.”

“I’m a forty-seven-year-old girl. Can I get a glass of wine before I’m closed out of the kitchen?”

“Sure. You have plenty of time. But it’s going to go real fast now. After the tile, there’s not much to do. Just the appliances, countertops, baseboards, touch up. Do you still like the new cabinets?”

“Gorgeous,” she said. “What am I going to do with myself in the evenings when you and Beau aren’t here?”

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty to do without someone making noise and messing up your house.”

She’d have to try to remember. This routine had given her so much comfort that she dreaded the kitchen renovation being finished. At first she thought it was just having someone around the house, but soon she noticed it was more than that, it was the quality time they spent together. Bob was there almost every day and she spent at least an hour just talking with him. Then she’d take Beau to her bedroom to lie beside her on the bed and she’d catch up on the day’s paperwork or just relax. Sometimes Beau would curl up next to her and she’d nod off; sometimes he’d roll over on his back and she’d idly scratch his belly while she watched TV. She hadn’t had a dog since she was a child. She realized more attention should be given to the serenity that came with scratching a big old dog’s belly.