Love's Illusions: A Novel (10 page)

There it was… those words again… We loved each other; we were going to make our way through this.

“Anyhow, I did spend a lot of time in Boston. My father kept coming around the house, upsetting the girls, and my mother started talking about taking him back again. I just couldn’t deal with all their shit on top of us, so I stayed in town as much as I could. Ronnie, from high school, remember him?” I nodded. “Well I had run into him in Harvard Square one day when I was walking around; he has a place in Cambridge now, and he let me crash there,” Stephen said. “But even being able to crash with Ronnie, my mother was driving me crazy – she never stopped, not for a minute, and I knew I couldn’t stay there either, so I called Joe. He said if I came back to Chicago he’d give me my old job back, so here I am.”

“I thought you didn’t like Ronnie –you always said he acted… ‘Faggy’. You never wanted to be around him in high school and now you’re staying with him,” I protested.

“Well that was high school, and I was wrong – Ronnie turned out to be a nice guy and besides, it gave me a place to stay to get away from my mother. Don’t look so shocked Jack.”

“Why didn’t you call me? You were gone for a long time, and you didn’t call even once.”

“My mother never told me about your calls. I didn’t know you wanted to talk,” he said.

I sighed. “You know I don’t like your mother any better than she likes me, but she was right about one thing – if you wanted to talk to me, you would call. You never did – why not?”

“Just what I said on the phone earlier – I thought you were mad at me, and I didn’t want to argue anymore,” Stephen said starting to fidget and yawn. Lifting his chin towards the IV hanging by the side of the bed he said “Jackie, I’m pretty tired – I think that nurse snuck a sedative in that IV. Can we talk later?”

I was not ready to leave, but I could see that he was done with the conversation for now. “Sure – what time is your surgery tomorrow,” I asked.

“Early, 6:00 or 7:00 am. You don’t need to come back, I’ll just see you when I get out of this place, okay?” he said.

What… What was this strange vibe I was picking up? “What do you mean you’ll see me when you get out – that’s bullshit!” I exclaimed, “I’ll be back in…”

He raised his voice over mine. “But don’t you have classes tomorrow?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter, I’m coming back Stephen. If you don’t want to argue, then you’ll stop objecting.”

His eyes fixed on me. He adjusted his position in bed and told me, “Joe will be here in the morning, maybe Donny too. From what you said earlier, I didn’t think you’d want to see either of them.”

I could feel my muscles tighten, a sense of anger creeping up inside me, as I snapped, “I don’t want to see them! You don’t want me here, do you? Why the hell did you call me if you have them coming to be with you? Why?”

He shot back, “No, it’s not that I don’t want you here, but when I called, I didn’t know if you’d come… if you’d even speak to me. I couldn’t just show up back in your life, tell you I was having surgery, and expect you to stay with me now could I? So I asked Joe to be here. I didn’t want to go through this alone, Jackie. But now, well I just think it’ll be easier
on you
if you don’t come back.”

The world was crashing in on me, I needed time to think, to breathe without worrying about saying the wrong thing, I just looked at him for a very long moment and finally replied, “Fine, I won’t bother you before the surgery, but I’ll be here in the early afternoon – that way Joe and Donny and whoever else they bring will have time to see you without running into me.” Stephen nodded in resignation.

I had been sitting on the edge of his bed while we talked, and now leaned over to kiss him before leaving. His eyes had softened some from the previous moment. He reached out, hugged me, but turned his head just enough so my kiss ended up on his cheek instead of his lips. I pressed my own lips together in a frown as I reached for my purse and stood up. The brief connection we made had disappeared. Stephen yawned a couple more times, covering his mouth, and shaking his head as he did. I lingered, just looking at him for a second, then said good night, turned and made my way through the halls and back to the bus stop.

When I arrived back at my apartment I got a call from Rick. Michael had asked him to let me know that he, his brother, Tom, and the guy with the Shovelhead were all going to grab dinner and then go back to the garage – they were still trying to fix the elusive oil leak, and then they were going to do something to the carburetor in the Mustang, so he was staying at his place tonight. After he hung up I murmured to myself, “Thank God.” On the bus ride home, I had started feeling guilty about not telling him where I was going, so this was good, I needed to think. Doubts were flooding my mind –
maybe I was wrong, maybe Stephen’s calling doesn’t mean we are going to get back together.
My instincts were sensing something, but what was it? I didn’t want to say anything to Michael until I was sure.

“Mary Beth… he called, Stephen called,” I blurted out as she answered the phone.

“What? When, what did he say?” she exclaimed - flabbergasted at the news.

“A few hours ago – he’s in Cook County Hospital… I went to see him.”

“What?” she screamed into the receiver, “Tell me everything!”

Mary Beth Brennan had gone to high school in Weymouth, Massachusetts with both of us, so she knew him well. She had started college at Wellesley, but transferred to Northwestern starting her sophomore year – she was smart, ambitious, and yet down to earth with an uncanny knack for cutting through the crap. She had been the Maid of Honor at our wedding. I had always been jealous of her thick, straight, almost waist-length auburn hair; she looked like I wanted to look – about 5’5” tall, she had a sweet, soft featured face with just the right splattering of freckles, and an ever so slightly turned up nose, thin but not skinny, with big boobs. I, on the other hand, was 5’9 ½”; it felt like I was always towering over or eye-to-eye with most of the men I met. My hair was plain brown, with waves that refused to obey or grow more than a few inches past my shoulders. I had my mother’s German coloring that never tanned, always burning bright lobster red in the sun. I was thinner than Mary Beth, with small breasts and a slight bump in my nose curtesy of my Italian father. I was used to boys ignoring me and thinking of me as a bitch, until Stephen came along that is. Mary Beth was popular, and had guys falling all over her in high school. Maybe as a result of this, she also had an uncanny knack for detecting male bullshit, whereas I could be snowed. I needed her insight now.

We had been best friends forever, and l was closer to her than I was to any other female in the city. Sure there were a couple girls from SAIC that I was buddies with –Lisa and Ashley in particular – who knew both Stephen and me, but they had met us as a couple, so it was more difficult to talk to them about things. Mary Beth had been my friend before I started dating him. We had a history. When Stephen and I got together, he joined my group of friends; not seeming to have any of his own friends around, so she knew all the stories, from day one.

She listened to me relay this tale, only asking the occasional question for clarification as I rushed through my recount, and after a rather long pause she said, “Jackie, he only called to get the insurance card… you know that don’t you?”

“Oh that’s not true.” I replied, although my voice was taking on a defensive tone, my mind filled with doubt. “His name is on the policy, so I’m sure he could have used the coverage without the card. Of course, he never paid any attention to it, so maybe he didn’t know what company it was with, but anyhow, like I said he’s on the policy – why not use it? He wouldn’t’ve called me just for that?”

“Well maybe… but you said you sensed a change after you gave it to him, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“Jackie there’s more to this than you know so far. You know Stephen never tells you the whole truth – even when there’s no reason to lie, he just leaves things out… he did it in high school, and he sure did it before he went back to Boston!”

“I know, but, but… I just want this to all work out.” My voice was breaking, water filling my eyes. “I just want things to go back to the way they were and…”

“Yeah, I know you do, but you can’t let him hurt you again. You have to get the whole story,” she replied.

Through my tears I asked, “Do you still keep in touch with Ronnie?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mary Beth said. “I think I have his phone number around here somewhere and if not, I do have Paula’s number – I know she still sees him, so she’ll know how to get in touch. Go to bed, and cry yourself to sleep, it’s getting late.”

“Hmph, I know I need sleep… I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, you sound tired, I’ll call you tomorrow… and by the way, make sure you find out the name of his doctor when you go back there, okay? Maybe you can get some information from him,” she ended as she hung up.

I had taken a Valium with Southern Comfort and rolled into bed shortly after speaking to Mary Beth. As usual, mother’s little helpers did the trick, and I fell asleep almost immediately. The SoCo kept me asleep well into the mid-morning. I got up, made coffee and scrambled eggs for myself along with toast smothered in butter and raspberry preserves – Michael always teased me that I only ate bread so I could have the butter, as I thought about that statement, he was right.

I took a long shower, much longer than necessary to get clean; I loved standing there letting the hot water beat against my back and topple over my head – it relaxed me in a way nothing else did. I shaved my legs and armpits, washed my hair using a special spicy apple scented shampoo and conditioner I’d been given as a gift ages ago, but never used. After drying off, I slathered raspberry pear scented lotion all over my body.
God, I’m gonna smell like a fruit salad,
I thought, giggling to myself. I took my time putting on my makeup, blow drying my hair and using the curling iron, trying to get my waves to go the direction I wanted instead of the way
they
wanted. I needed to look as good as possible. I had run out of the apartment yesterday without stopping to think about what I looked like. That wasn’t going to happen again today. I climbed into my best pair of jeans, then changed my top four times before settling on a close fitting, long sleeved, deep lavender pullover sweater, a natural toned, beaded vest, and a long paisley print scarf with bright flecks of purple and orange that picked up the purple in my pullover.

What the hell am I doing? You’re not getting ready for a first date – you’re going to see your husband who is in the hospital, who fell on his tail-bone, who didn’t want you there this morning, who may be lying through his teeth! I may want the relationship back, but shit… I have to know the truth first.
Mary Beth was right; I couldn’t live with lies and half-truths.
Could everything that’s happened between us since I was 15 be a lie?

I needed to be at work this evening, so I decided to drive instead of hopping onto a bus again. There was plenty of parking at the hospital – and I’d be able to stay longer this way.

As I entered Stephen’s room, I noticed a fantastic arrangement of yellow and orange flowers – three large Birds of Paradise with beautiful deep purple centers, orange stripped Tiger Lilies, tiny yellow Kalanchoe and Crotons surrounded by various bits of greenery – sitting next to his bed. Stephen liked plants; during our first year living together in Old Town, before we married, he filled the place with plants, then gave them all away when we went back to Weymouth for that summer after the first year at SAIC. Whoever brought them, knew him well. Now, he was lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, and a nurse was fiddling around with the IV hanging by his side.

He opened his eyes when he heard me approaching, and I caught an ever-so-brief twinge on his face… Was that disappointment – had he been hoping it was someone else? The nurse, an older woman with a stout build, a sprinkling of gray hair, and rather thick glasses, looked up also. “I’m sorry Miss, he’s had several visitors already this morning, and he needs to get rest – you’ll have to come back later,” she stated in a rather drill sergeant type manner.

“I won’t disturb him – he can rest. Can’t I just sit in the chair over there for a while until he’s able to talk?” I replied.

“No, only family at this point, I’m afraid. He’s overdone it already – the anesthesia from the surgery is still in his system and…”

I broke in saying, “I’m his wife; does that count as family?”

It was the nurse’s turn to be surprised, her jaw dropped, she hesitated, her eyes darting from me to Stephen. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were married,” she said, directing her comments to Stephen, then turning to me again, “Of course you can stay Mrs. Janowski, I just thought… Well no matter, have a seat won’t you; I’ll be done here in a moment. Your husband came through with flying colors – fissures can be tricky, but he’s going to be just fine in no time at all,” she continued, smiling at me as I leaned over the bed and gave Stephen a quick kiss.

Until now, he hadn’t said a word, but now he looked horrified, coughed, cleared his throat and said, “Hey Jackie, how are you today?”

“What’s wrong… Are you in pain?”

“A little, but for the most part, I don’t feel much of anything at the moment,” he said, setting his jaw, eyes glaring up at the nurse. She stiffened, announced she would be back later and left the room. I took off my down jacket, tossing it on the chair, as I grabbed the horrible zigzag curtain to draw it around the bed. I caught a glimpse of the nurse standing a few feet away in the corridor with a colleague, their heads bent together talking, and looking back in my direction. For some reason the conversation made me uncomfortable –
Is something wrong and she doesn’t want to tell me? What are they saying? What the hell is a fissure?

I shrugged off the sensation, and pulled the drape closed. Putting a smile on my face, I turned to Stephen and asked, “So, how are you? Was it horrible… talk to me.”