Intermission (12 page)

So yeah, we just fucked over some quotes from an 80s Christmas movie – and it was awesome.

2002-12-16
0800 hours

“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, dormez-vous, dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines—” Natalie swats her arm at me, but I dodge her blind attempt.

“Fuck off,” she groans. I slap her bare ass and lay next to her.

“I’m going to get some bagels, seeing as how you have a lemon and a jar of tartar sauce in the refrigerator. When I get back, you better be showered and dressed or I will personally tell Santa to put you on the Very Naughty List! D’accord, ma femme?”

Natalie moans and rolls onto her side, exposing her naked body and the bite marks I left on her hips. She flutters her eyelashes and pouts her lips. “Can we go to brunch at The Intermezzo? Belgian waffles and mimosas! Or we could just stay in bed all day and fuck?”

“I wish – god I want nothing more than to give you that,” I tease, “but I need to visit Mom and since I only have like thir—” Natalie sits up quickly and slaps her palm across my lips.

“Nope, nope,
nope
! I don’t want to know. Promise?” She removes her hand and reaches for mine. Natalie kisses my wrist and then places my hand on her chest. Despite being so forward and incredibly strong-willed, Nat is my vulnerable little princess and I would do anything for her.

“Promise.”

Her body relaxes and she smiles. “What did you give me last night? I feel so much better!”

I smile as I put on my coat and say, “Mmm, baby, you know what I gave you – a Zach Attack!”

“Ha! My cough is completely gone.”

“Oh that. It was basically roofies and orange soda – a pharmacy trick from the old country.”

“Well it worked! Hey, can you have them scoop out my bagel?”

“What? Absolutely not! Live, eat, be merry. And frankly, I like your big ass.”

Natalie tosses her pillow at me but I duck. “Ha ha, very funny, ya jerk! And I
love
your teeny tiny pecker – it’s so cute.”

“Poorly played, ma femme. We both know my dick is massive and you can barely handle it.” I blow her a kiss from the door and head out into the hall.

My former neighbor, Angie, is exiting the elevator with her ugly little wiener dog. She’s a decent girl, a little nosy and completely in love with me, but she’s attractive and always sweet. I’ve known her for years and she’s a fantastic baker, a gossip columnist for some crappy paper and a sexed-up single woman that really needs to get laid. Needless to say, I stay clear of everything Angie-related
except
for her double-chocolate brownies.

“Zacharie! I didn’t know you were here – Natalie never tells me anything – I’ve asked for your email address a dozen times – say, when you get back, can you see if there’s an officer named James David Ganderson in your camp? We’ve been corresponding, well mostly I send him letters and sexy photos and he replies via email, but he always has some excuse not to call or write,” she trails off hopelessly.

I want to tell her that there’s an epidemic of fake enlisted men pretending to be lonely soldiers. Unfortunately, these con artists get their patriotic victims to send money or information that can be used fraudulently. But, it goes both ways. I have a friend at base that met a hot super-model type girl online. They had a steamy affair back and forth and he naively sent her five-hundred dollars so she could visit her dying mother. After a month or so, it got really weird. He finally discovered that she was an old fat, married woman that spent his money on a television from Wal-Mart.

I reach out to hug Angie and her fucking little wiener bites my ankle. “Angie, great to see you! How about this – before I report back, let’s have some coffee and exchange information. I hate to run out, but my leave is short and I have ton of shit to do.”

“Yes! Great idea! Come over for coffee and dessert . . . and bring Natalie I suppose,” she says.

“Thank you. We’ll make plans for later this week,” I say, knowing I won’t be here later this week. I pat her shoulder and dart inside the waiting elevator.

1100 hours

“Do you remember our last train ride together?” Natalie snuggles in my arms as I stare out the window toward the frozen Connecticut landscape.

“I’d rather associate trains with the first time we met. Tell me, ma femme, what do you remember about that day?” I ask, trying to lighten the moment.

Natalie lifts her head to look into my eyes. We’ve barely known each other for three months and most of that time has been spent on different continents – but when I catch that tiny glimpse of sincerity in her playful eyes, I’m certain that she is the realest thing I will ever know.

“Don’t laugh,” she says.

“Ooh, I can’t make that promise,” I tease.

She snuggles back into my arms and strokes my leg. “I’m not really the girlfriend type. Shit, I’ll probably never even be the marrying type! And knowing this about myself, I tend to label men in order to deal with my own deficiencies, ya know?”

I play with a loose curl around her shoulder and she continues. “Like, I’ve been with dicks with big dicks, mama’s boys, narcissistic playboys and one bi-polar musician that stole my jeans. Great sex, but I guess at a certain point, I get scared that they will realize I’m not that special.”

She looks at me again with tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “Zach, that day we met, you changed all that – you made me a star.” She fondles the little gold necklace around her neck and sighs. God, if only she knew what she did for me . . .

“Ma femme, tu es une lumière dans mes ténèbres et le plaisir de mon désespoir. Tu pense que tu es une étoile, mais tu es ma balise.”

“A beacon? That’s beautiful, Zach.”

The train stops in the little depot of Greenwich and as I reach in to kiss Nat, she quickly jumps up and slaps the window. “Holy shit! I told them not to embarrass us! Goddamn it. C’mon, you better pray there’s no bugle corps.”

I follow her annoyed gaze out the window to the station platform. Judy and Dave LeGrange are waving tiny American flags and holding a banner that says
Welcome Home Lt. Parker.

“Natalie, it’s very sweet. Really, I like it.” She rolls her eyes in disbelief and takes my hand. We exit the train into a blast of cold air so I take a step in front of her to shield her from the bitter wind.

“Do you think they see us?” She asks.

“Dave, Judy, over here!” I yell. Natalie knees me in the ass as I wave them over. “They see us now,” I say.

The LeGranges come barreling toward us with open arms and hearty embraces. Natalie is lucky to have such loving parents and I wish she could see that.

“Zach, sweetie! You are so thin! What are they feeding you over there? Have you shot anyone?” Judy giggles as Natalie takes the homemade banner and rolls it up.

“Natalie!” Judy shouts. “Are you still sick? Feverish or just living too hard in the City?” Judy places a gloved hand over Nat’s forehead and shakes her head. “You need to be more sensible. You’re all alone in that apartment and this time of year is menacing to an overworked body.”

Natalie snorts and punches me in the shoulder. “Ya hear that Zach, stop overworking my body.”

“Natalie.” Dave peers down at Nat and shakes my hand. “Zach, we are so glad you’re here. C’mon, Judy brought a thermos of eggnog.” Dave leads us to their Volvo station wagon and Nat and I climb in the backseat to snuggle under a blanket, like two teenagers sneaking behind their parents. I would never miss an opportunity to feel Natalie up and as usual, her hands are one step ahead of me.

“Thank you for picking us up. My dad, well, he is . . . thank you.” I hesitate before I say too much. I never want my family drama to be my sole representation.

“Nonsense, dear. I stopped by last week to bring your father a vegetable lasagna. He was out, but a nice gentleman, Robby I think, was working the gate that evening and had such amazing things to say about you.” Judy turns her head to address me sweetly. “Please let your father know we are right in town if he ever needs anything.” Judy can never know what an asshole my father really is. It will break her heart and furthermore, her optimistic hope in humanity.

“Thank you, Judy! I’m sure he enjoyed it on a cold night.” Nat cups my balls and rolls her eyes.

“So how long do you have, Zach?” Dave asks.

Natalie shakes her head and pinches my thigh under the blanket. I remember the promise I made to her this morning so I smile happily and say, “Just enough to see my girl.”

We pull into the entrance of my parent’s house and Robby opens the gate to let us in. Dave rolls down the window so Judy can lean across to ask Robby about his granddaughter . . . I didn’t even know he had a granddaughter.

I turn to Nat and she gives me an encouraging smile. “It’s okay. I’m here,” she says. She can sense my fear and irritation and she knows that I hate my father.

“Okay kids, just call us when you’re ready and we’ll go to dinner. Dave found a cute little place that’s decorated for the holidays and even has Dickensian carolers!” Judy says cheerfully.

“Fine Mom, we’ll call when we’re ready. And please, no more fanfare, okay?” Nat demands.

Natalie and I walk hand in hand into the large house that at some point was my home. Mom always made sure I had a fantastic childhood and never worried about what other people thought, and I know if she was healthy, she would still manage to keep a humble and pleasant persona.

I’ve heard all the rumors, most of them true unfortunately. Between my friend Molly (Nat’s boss) and my attorney Jack, I get constant updates on the status of my asshole dad and the demise of Parker & Parker – quite literally.

Mom was a dreamer. She started a pharmaceutical company for the single purpose to fund a research center. My dad was a realist. He latched onto
her
ambition and decided he had dreams, too – like making millions of dollars at the expense of other’s hard work. But my mom’s dream didn’t just stop at medical discovery . . . she wanted her husband and son to work side by side – she wanted a family, not an empire.

“Let’s see if she’s in the garden room,” I say.

“Oh, actually, she’s been moved to that small bedroom at the end of the hall,” Natalie says quietly.

“What? Who moved her? That bedroom is used for guests. She is not a guest in her own home!” I scream.

Natalie puts her arm around my waist and wrinkles her forehead in discomfort. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

We walk quietly to the end of the hall on the first floor, an area I avoided most of my life because of the dark walls and few windows. I peek into the small room and find my mother, a woman that was once compared to Grace Kelly, lying unresponsive on a hospital bed. I thought I could do it – but I can’t. She’s alone. How can I let my mother die alone?

Natalie releases my hand and walks over to a record player I recognize from my youth. She carefully pulls out a vinyl disk and places it on the turntable. I remain frozen in the doorway, watching a woman so full of life compassionately caring for a woman that’s losing one.

“Claire loves this one,” Nat says.

Edith Piaf’s sorrowful voice instantly makes me collapse into tears.
Non
,
je ne regrette rien.

I’m not prepared for the sudden onset of memories – Mom in the kitchen baking oatmeal cookies and singing along with Edith. Dramatically rolling her ‘Rs’ and making me laugh. I would sit at the island with a big glass of milk and listen to stories about Paris during the Algerian War and then I would fabricate my own fascinating stories about my friends, Bo and Luke Duke.

A warm hand taps my back, rousing me from my nostalgic melancholy . . . but Nat is still standing by the record player confused and afraid.

“Son.”

I spin around to find my dad, tanner than what’s acceptable in the middle of December, standing emotionless and unaffected.

“You son of a bitch,” I seethe.

Natalie stops the record and pushes us out of the room. “Not in here,” she whispers.

“Zacharie, it’s nice to have you home. Shall we discuss our business in my office? Your friend can stay with your moth—”

“Her name is Natalie and she needs to hear what I have to say to you.” I take a deep breath and let it fly. “Jack Schaeffer emailed me last week about Mom’s will. From my understanding, I will be the beneficiary of her 60% holdings of Parker & Parker. Is
that
what you want? Of course it is, you greedy bastard.” Natalie grabs my arm to make me stop, but I can’t. “Mom built that company out of a broom closet and you just can’t wait to sell it! What is it, a house in Greece or a new wife on Long Island?”

“Zach, I will not have you speaking to me like this. I love your mother very much and you are making a mockery of our family in front of Natalie. When you enlisted, you made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with us – Claire wanted to sell the company years ago, she wanted you to have a different life.” Dad remains emotionless, like he’s the one being victimized.

“Fine. It’s yours to sell.” I shrug my shoulders, not in defeat, but because I’m fuming mad and I’m trying not to hit my father. “I’ll tell Jack to draft a contract giving you full ownership upon Mom’s dea—” I clear my throat. “After Mom’s passing, you can sell to the highest bidder,” I smirk. “What’s she worth to you anyway?”

Natalie squeezes my arm tightly and pleas, “Zach, stop.”

“And what do you want in return?” Dad asks smugly.

“In return? Unbelievable!” I shake my head in disbelief. “This is what I want
Pops
. . . Jack will be instructed to withhold every goddamn penny until you make a large donation to Mt. Sinai. So much money in fact, that the hospital will name an entire fucking wing after Dr. Claire Dumas Parker. And then, you will hand over a generous check to the September 11
^th
Memorial Fund – be the face of goodwill for once. And one more thing, if Natalie’s parents bring you a fucking lasagna, you better acknowledge their kindness.” I plant my feet firmly and stare down at the man I’ve never really known and pray that my children never have to experience this type of pain.