The Jewel Box (13 page)

“You’re wrong, Blondie. She was up at the bar when I was talking to Beau, then she sat at the table to our left for awhile. Consequently I’ve had to listen to her falderol, and she says ‘That’s a fact and not a fiction’ in response to everything.”

“
Falderol
?”

“Gibberish, prattle, mere nonsense.” He snubbed his cigarette. “Trust me, she doesn’t have enough sense to drink through a curly straw.”

“Maybe she’s just faking dumbness.”

“Yeaaah? I’ll bet she can sing the entire Flintstone’s theme, but can’t sing one line of the National Anthem.”

“Oh pleeease.”

“You’re so gullible, Blondie. But that’s one of the things I like about you. ‘Course, I still haven’t figured out why you like me so much.”

“You’ve got just the right amount of velocity for me,” I joked.

“That’s a fact and not a fiction,” Dixie interrupted, stopping once again.

Okay. Maybe Gabriel was on target about her. I decided to check if she was as brainless as he thought. “I like your costume. Does it have any special meaning?”

“Well, I’m proud to be an American. I was born and raised just a few miles from here. I love Houston.”

“It’s a rapidly growing city. Do you think Welch is doing a good job?”

“Who?”

“Louie Welch,” I added his first name for clarification.

“Don’t have a clue.” Dixie looked up at the ceiling like a magic 8 ball might appear.

“Mayor Louie Welch,” I said incredulously. “He’s serving his fifth term.”

“Well, you learn something new every day.” She sailed away.

“You’re right.” I leaned against Gabriel. “The girl is breathtakingly dumb.”

When Gabriel and Al left around ten that night, I got queasy. The Jewel Box wasn’t as revolting as before Gabriel entered my life, but I counted the minutes until he picked me up at two-thirty.

“How’d it go, Blondie?”

“Oh, it was tolerable. But I really missed you.” I smothered his face with kisses.

“Yeaaah? You missed me?”

“Yes. Yes.” I serenaded. He could have asked for my first born son and received the same response. “But I don’t want you wasting time hanging around here. Besides, your absence will make me work harder to get the
hell out of this so-called profession. Tonight was almost as tough as my first night.”

“I hate your being there. Remember you don’t have to do this.”

“Remember, I
do
have to do this. You don’t need another dependent and independence feels good to me,” I said firmly. “It won’t be for much longer. Please don’t make it more difficult than it already is.”

“Whatever you say, Ms. Steinem.”

Astrid filed a divorce petition, establishing Gabriel’s visitation privileges with his girls as Sundays only—in their house. Gabriel occasionally watched Nikki in the evenings, but mostly spent time with me at the Jewel Box, where I dropped Saturdays, my best money making night.

Gabriel filled my days and nights with wonderful memories, and for the first time ever, I didn’t indulge in dreams. Incredibly diverse and well read, he unknowingly educated me, and I recalled almost every word he spoke. I could have been blindfolded and identified him in a crowded room just by feeling his hands: those wonderful hands that carefully crafted wood, casually combed hair from his forehead, thoughtfully rubbed the side of his face near his mouth when he was in deep thought, and gently caressed every inch of my body. Our lovemaking was an extension of caring and conversations that ran the gamut as we got to know each other, and I lay in bed at night listening to the softness of his snoring, memorizing the outline of his face and wondering why this gentle, kind man found it necessary to masquerade as a crude, arrogant jerk. We went to movies, had romantic dinners and lived like a normal family. If you call a family that includes one member who is married to someone else, one child who is bonding rapidly with said member, and one member who works in a topless bar “normal.” Other than my job, my life was filled with happiness. Our quiet, relaxing weekends were altered only by Gabriel’s visitation time with his daughters. Soon, I changed my work schedule to four nights a week for more family home evenings with Nikki and Gabriel.

After Red quit the Jewel Box to work at the larger downtown
Red Baron
club, I rarely saw her around the complex, but Gabriel ran into her
constantly which irritated him no end. One day he came through the door whistling happily. “You’d think as much money as Al spent on that wench, she could afford something other than tube tops and shorts to wear every day.”

“No foul words for Red? You’re in a great mood,” I said.

“Yeah, goddamnit, I had a splitting headache this morning and took some of your Midol by mistake. Hell, everyone at work ribbed me about being so damned pleasant!”

“I don’t have Midol in my medicine cabinet. You must‘ve grabbed my hit of acid.”

“Blondie, I’m just kidding.” He kissed me. “My good moods are all your fault and it’s pissin’ me off. Hell, I’ve been a grouch all my life.”

“Oh sweetie, you’re a grouch about like I’m Simone de Beauvoir.”

“Who?”

“Pleeease, Gabriel. Your little subliterate act ain’t flying. You pretend to know nothing of Franz Kafka or George Eliot, but when I say I know nothing about politics or finance, that’s a fact and not a fiction.”

“You sayin’ you can’t define MLR, GDP or demagogue?”

“Precisely. And I don’t appreciate that language in the presence of my daughter.”

“Fiduciary.” he goaded with a grin.

“Now I need something for my splitting headache.”

“You don’t really have acid in your medicine cabinet. Do you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not for me, it’s to enhance Nikki’s childhood memories. I sprinkle it in her Cocoa Puffs since I’m not able to take her on exciting trips at this time.”

Thus began an evening of stories about his childhood with four siblings, an attractive and persuasive mother, and an erudite, college professor father whose vicious temper led to countless job losses and constant upheaval. After all family members suffered physical and mental torment inflicted by their father; his mother divorced him and moved to Boston near her parents. Gabriel began working during his early teens while attending high school, and being oldest, took an active role as caretaker.

He pulled me closely to him in bed and solemnly told me about his estranged wife’s personality. “Everything in the house has a proper place
and under no circumstances are the girls allowed to play anywhere other than their playroom.”

My house was clean and orderly, but Nikki ruled our domain, eating and playing anywhere her heart desired.

“Astrid’s been taking uppers every morning and downers every evening for years, never noticing my comings or goings.”

“That’s so sad.” I thought about his girls. The time to stop swallowing Phenaphen had commenced. With my pain long gone, I vowed to toss out the darling green and black capsules that once helped me make it through the night. But what Gabriel said next, almost made me regret my anti-drug resolution.

“Now she’s threatened to file additional divorce papers naming you. I can’t have that, so I’m going to lease an apartment and tell Astrid we split up. No need to involve you in this legal mess.”

I didn’t jump for joy over what seemed a reasonable solution.

Gabriel constantly reminded me his leased yet basically vacant apartment was less than a mile and only one minute away. He kept clothing and toiletries at my place where he stayed nightly and weekends (discreetly, for Nikki’s sake).

“Blondie, this is getting more and more difficult,” he said one Sunday night after returning from visiting his daughters. “Lauren, my oldest, keeps asking me when I’m coming back home, and Skylar clings to me and cries until I leave.” His body shook as he hugged me. “I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.” Guilt was inescapable, and beginning that instant an ominous dark cloud hung overhead.

Within weeks, Gabriel began living within himself, periodically withdrawing for two or three days at a time. My attempts to intrude into his world only made him more distant and for longer durations.

9

At the end of May, Gabriel’s younger brother flew from Massachusetts for summer work with Gabriel and Al’s flourishing construction business. Almost a carbon copy of Gabriel in size and build, Sean O’Quinn had the same chiseled facial features, but with wheat-infused, light brown hair and translucent amber eyes, he reminded me of the late James Dean. He had a special aura that seemed to brighten anyone in his presence. Sean slept at Gabriel’s apartment, but spent spare time at my place. He entertained Nikki by playing games, giving her piggy back rides until his knees were almost raw, and reading every book she hauled into the living room.

Gabriel worked solo on Saturdays (his Zen time), so Sean always arrived at my place with a bundle of 45rpm records, and played hits like
Imagine
by John Lennon,
Mercy, Mercy Me
by Marvin Gaye, and other songs by artists who made social commentary sound pretty damn sexy. In the following weeks Sean and I shared countless private moments, engaging in philosophical discussions deeper than Gabriel cared to venture, with Sean seemingly oblivious to everything around us while absorbing only the rapport we were developing. “I’m more liberal than Gabe,” Sean broached the subject of politics.

“Isn’t everyone?” His brother was as Republican as Eisenhower’s infamous field jacket.

Sean let go a soft laugh. He possessed the same gentle qualities that made me fall in love with Gabriel, but didn’t spout crude comments. Sean idolized JFK and Martin Luther King, and was always contemplating and discussing ideas to help resolve our country’s civil unrest. Their brother
Ben (older than Sean but younger than Gabriel) was in Vietnam, and unlike Gabriel, Sean often voiced his concern for everyone fighting that war. While other teenagers were into pop festivals, the drug culture, free love, and musical artists like Black Sabbath and Jimi Hendrix, Sean’s main concern was ending the war, and healing within our own country.

“I worry about my young brother Conner. He misbehaves, and I’m not sure Hope can control him. My young sister is lovely and delicate. The opposite of our mom, Gloria.”

“Really?”

“Gloria’s lousy with finances, but so charismatic she manages to get most anything she wants.”

“How ‘bout your dad?”

“Hardly knew him.” Sean picked up
The Last Picture Show
. “You like McMurtry?”

“I do. Beau loaned me that copy, but you can read it. Check out my Book-Of-The-Month selection.” I handed him Maya Angelou’s
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
. “It’s amazing.”

Nikki watched cartoons as Sean scanned the pages, and I listened to soft background music. “I thought the South was predominately racist,” he said.

“Supposedly. But my mother sure wasn’t. She taught us we’re all God’s children, told us to embrace similarities, appreciate cultural differences, and respect all races.”

“Your mom sounds pretty rare.”

“Oh yeah, a real archeologist’s find. Granted, Mother was caring and kind, but we never connected like she did with my sister. I’ve recently gained new respect for her, but I’m cautious. Her righteous viewpoint holds little regard for those who fall from grace.”

“Well, she nurtured you into a special being,” he said with sincerity.

“Unfortunately I’ve done things that would crush her if she ever found out.”

“I understand.” He lightly touched my hand. “I really do.”

“Thank you, Sean. I just love the way we can talk about everything.”

“Well, my brothers would break my balls if they knew half the stuff I discussed with you.”

I tapped my ear and pointed to Nikki, reminding him she was listening.

“Ooops, sorry,” Sean apologized. “But speaking of my brothers, Gabe sure is head over heels in love with you.”

“He admitted that to another male?”

“No way. I can just tell. When we’re at work, his face lights up when he talks about you. And I think he’s envious of our time together.”

“Only because he can’t be here.”

“My older brothers have a tendency to protect their vulnerabilities with a tough exterior. Especially Gabe, who took the brunt of our father’s abuse.”

“That explains some things. I don’t know if Gabriel told you how we met, but it was in a place he went mainly due to caretaking Al.”

“He still does. Every day on the job. It’s like he needs to protect anyone incapable of doing it themselves.”

“The night we became true friends, Gabriel offered to protect me from a threatening maniac I once dated. We came together under most unusual circumstances.”

“Synchronicity.” Sean’s amber eyes seemed to gaze into my soul.

“Don’t let your brothers hear you talk that way. Gabriel calls my talk about meaningful coincidence or influence of the heavens, mumbo-jumbo. But I think astrology is significant in our lives.”

“So does Gloria.” He reached over and playfully pulled Nikki’s hair braids.

“Why do you guys call her Gloria instead of Mom or Mother?”

“I’m not sure who started it, but we all do. Except Hope. Gabriel and Ben claim Gloria doesn’t want to be called ‘Mom’ by her older sons because then she can’t lie about her age. Whatever the reason, she prefers we call her Gloria.”