The Jewel Box (36 page)

“I’m channeling Marilyn Monroe,” I whispered.

“I oughta shoot you for driving over here. It’s obvious you don’t feel well.”

“I’m fine, it’s not contagious, and I just sound awful.” My illness had left me winded and speaking in hushed tones. “My meds kicked in, but I’m
still wondering what the heck knocked me in my chest and battered my lungs like this.”

“It’s couvades.” Beau rested his hand on my arm.

“You’re cranking your oxygen too high, Beau. That term only applies to men and pregnancy symptoms.”

“Well, I still think you’re feeling sympathy pains for me.”

“I am, but doc thinks I picked up some weird parasite, and prescribed antibiotics. ‘Course, I think my parasite is a subspecies named Scott. If he’s not travelling he’s popping up at my place like an inebriated Jack-in-the-Box.”

“Baby, what kind of powers do you have over men?”

“Mutual sick minds, I guess.”

“Seriously,” Beau said softly. “You’ve got to stop allowing others to drain your energy and dampen your spirit. When you totally take care of number one, you’ll blossom into a magnificent flower. It won’t be easy with your kind heart, but it’s vital for survival of your soul.”

“I still have Emerson’s
Twelve Essential Essays
that you gave me my second week at the Jewel Box. You highlighted the volumes on Self-Reliance.”

“You mean I didn’t highlight Intellect?”

“Ha ha, and no you did not,” I said in breathless undertone. “So it’s your fault I’m a ditz.”

“You’re no ditz,” he said in a voice fainter than mine.

Time for me to leave and let him rest.

The following evening Gabriel called under the pretext of sharing a comment from Ken Hoffman’s latest column. “Hoffman’s hilarious on occasion, but scoring good drive-thru food doesn’t exactly entice me like it does you and Nikki.”

“Ken only does food reports on Thursday. The other days he covers all kinds of subjects.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll check him out more often.”

“First check out this beautiful sunset,” Gabriel said.

I looked outside with a peaceful heart, remembering the friendship we shared before we became lovers. A friend who still made me feel so comfortable.

“Oh, yeah. Conn’s wife Kim had a baby girl so you might want to drop by to see them. No need to call, they’re always home and the little puke would love to see you. He always asks about you when Gloria’s not around.”

“Ah, someone on Walton’s Mountain still cares.” I took another glimpse out my window to see the sun set, and noticed Scott sitting on my sidewalk like a one man Welcome Wagon Committee. “Gotta go, Gabriel.” I ended our call.

Yes, I allowed Scott’s drunken bum to come inside while swearing to Beau it would be my last time to enable an alcoholic. And I booted him out before midnight, so progress was being made. Beau’s comment about me taking care of number one was ringing in my ear when I fell asleep. Maybe I’d eventually learn to keep my distance from people of dubious integrity and negative karma.

“You awake?” Delilah boomed into the phone, waking me.

“Of course,” I said, opening one eye to look at my bedside clock. “I’m up watching Reverend Falwell save sinners. Jeez, Delilah, it’s five in the morning.”

“I had to tell you what I did to Eric for falling asleep on the couch again.”

I cleared my throat and rubbed my eyes, hoping she’d keep it brief.

“While he was sawing logs, I used Super Glue to bond his dick to his hairy leg.”

“Not again. That’s as bad as you throwing firecrackers into his lap on New Year’s Eve when he doesn’t stay awake until midnight with you.”

She snickered. “Yeah, not too many men like roasted weenies.”

Delilah behaved sensibly in business dealings, but otherwise didn’t attempt to curb her immature behavior.

“I hope your kids aren’t awake when Eric rises to go pee this morning.”

“My teenagers spend every Saturday night with their goofy friends.”

“Speaking of such, Nikki recently informed me that on her fourth birthday you told her Pluto and Goofy were homosexual.”

“No, I said they were queer.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Well, gotta go. Eric’s taking me to early mass this morning as soon as he wakes up and shaves his leg.”

“I’ll pray for your family and all your neighbors in Cypress, Delilah.”

With Patrice living in London, Beau was my primary strength builder. His health kept him fairly homebound, and being with him helped keep my mind off Gabriel. One evening after dinner, he insisted I sit on his sofa while he searched for something. His hunt went long as I patiently waited for him. “Sorry to keep you so late, but I recorded something and want you to have it.”

“Better not be an episode of
Step By Step
,” I warned. Beau once mentioned he watched the sitcom because Suzanne Somers reminded him of me. Wasn’t the first time I’d been compared to a blonde airhead.

“No, it’s a recording of me reading a quote that I came across recently. It’s right on target with my sentiment about taking risks.”

“Oh sweet Beau,” I yelled out. “Always trying to guide me through life.”

“Baby, I just want you to become more confident. More gutsy.”

“Oh.” I relaxed on his sofa. Beau knew my weaknesses.

“Here, I found it,” he said in muffled tone as he sauntered back into the living room.

I insisted he sit beside me, and made idle comments while patting his hand to let him catch his breath. “Now play it every day until you regain that self-confidence and spirit for life you once had.” His voice was weak, but his tone was firm. He punched PLAY and we listened to his recorded voice: “Cherie, I read this quote on ‘Risk’ in some nondescript publication and recorded it for you because I consider you a dear, dear friend.” Several coughs escaped between Beau’s personal explanation and the actual quote:

“To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.

To weep is to risk being called sentimental.

To reach out to another is to risk involvement.

To expose feelings is to risk showing your true self.

To place your ideas and your dreams before them is to risk being called naive.

To love is to risk not being loved in return.

To live is to risk dying.

To hope is to risk despair,

and to try is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing and becomes nothing. He [or she] may avoid suffering and sorrow, but simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.

Chained by their certitudes, they are slaves who forfeit their freedom.

Only the person who risks is truly free.”

I understood why the risk sentiment hit home with Beau, and wanted it to saturate my skull. Maybe the time for me to take risks and become truly free had commenced.

24

A setting sun ended my Saturday gardening as I finished a light watering of my English roses and Autumn Amethyst azaleas. I stood enjoying a small sense of well-being when Scott flew down the block in his Mercedes, driving and honking like he was the fire marshal and my place was ablaze. He’d been riding the silver bullet again.

“We’ve got to celebrate the Fall of the Berlin Wall—I brought my own Coors,” he shouted while opening his car door. “Hey, you’ll never believe who I had dinner with tonight.”

He had that right.

“Dan and Marilyn. She’s much more attractive in person, and Dan isn’t as dumb as everyone thinks.”

“Scott, I’m really tired. You need to leave.”

“I’ll only stay five minutes. Please, Cher. Please, please. . .”

“Dammit.” I threw down the garden hose and removed my gloves.

“So, what you been up to all day?” He set his car alarm before stumbling up the walk.

“Sitting at Jungman Library, reading up on stalker laws in Texas.”

“Got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“Were you too busy talking politics with the Qualyes at
Ho Jo’s
, to eat?” I asked.

“Hey, why don’t you wear your hair like Marilyn’s?”

“Why don’t you head home?”

“You’d look great in that pretty flip style she wears.”

“Not as great as I’ll look after eight hours sleep. Please go home, Scott. Your nights of crashing here are over. I apologize, but I need time alone.”

He looked stunned. I didn’t care. Heeding Beau’s advice, I turned away, walked inside, locked my door and prayed Scott would arrive safely wherever he was going.

Lakeside Drive was becoming a busy street. After work on Monday as I drove down the block, I saw Gabriel leaning against his van in front of my house. I panicked, knowing he saw me see him. I pulled into the garage, then got out and walked over to him. Beau said there’s a big difference between compassion and passion and once you’ve had both, friendship is impossible without wanting the passion. Still, I wanted to try. Beau was a marvelous mentor, but let me extrapolate backwards for those who may have forgotten: I am not Mensa material.

“Just wanted to watch this sunset with you,” Gabriel said softly. “If you don’t mind.”

How could I deny him a sunset? I loved him. And knew he still loved me. Our being together meant disrupting his relationship with every biological woman in his life. It was that simple and that complex. I could settle for just friends.

“Anytime, amigo.” I looked across at him. Damn. He was once again wearing his melt-in-my-mouth moustache.

“Thank you.” He nodded with a smile, but as he looked away from me and toward the sunset his expression seemed one of perpetual grimness. The calmness he always exuded was gone, and after reaching for a smoke, his hand trembled when he lit it.

We watched the setting sun in silence, and when his pale blue eyes turned to rest on my face, I noticed a perceptible twitch in his cheek muscle. The sky was shifting into nightfall.

“I’d better get inside. Got lots to do before bedtime tonight.” I rushed into my house, waving as I went. Beau would’ve been proud of me.

It took me a few days longer than usual to complete
Texasville
, maybe because I was dialing Beau about every third chapter or so to leave messages
on his answering machine. It had been well over a week since we spoke and I was getting worried about him. I attempted to catch him live to discuss McMurtry’s novel, but wound up telling it to his machine again. My phone rang immediately after I hung up the receiver. “Please, please be Beau,” I said aloud before answering and tapping my speaker key to better hear his weak voice.

“Hey Blondie, whatcha up to?” Gabriel’s voice amplified into my world.

“Checking out rehab centers.” I hit the speaker key back to its off position.

“Yeaaah? You are one crazy lady.”

“Just two fittings shy of a custom straightjacket. What’s up, Gabriel?”

“Same old shit,” he responded in dismal tone.

“You’re still so eloquent. Maybe you should team with Delilah for T-shirt slogans.”

“Don’t make me puke.” He wasn’t a fan of Delilah.“That women is almost as bad as the one I live with.”

“Speaking of Fran.” I almost choked on her name. “She may have your phone tapped. You better get straight to the point.”

“No point. Just needed to hear your sweet voice.”

Despite him sounding horribly depressed, he could easily weaken me. I wanted to be his friend, but wasn’t sure how healthy it was for me. Hanging up was my only option. “I think I’m having a grand mal seizure. Better dash.”

“You don’t have that affliction.”

“Right. But I do have to end this call.
Au revoir
.” I hung up.

He might’ve been in a miserable marriage, but our Seventies adultery had caused pain for all involved, and his girls were now part of Gabriel’s life as were Gloria and Hope. None of these women would ever accept me and we both knew this. But like in our therapy sessions, he wouldn’t address it. And as long as I allowed communication, we were still rhythmically committing sin while concomitantly adding guilt.

I was magnetized by Gabriel and didn’t know how to demagnetize. Desensitize. Beau was still MIA, Patrice almost impossible to reach, so I dialed Delilah.

“I’m worried about Beau. He hasn’t returned my calls.”

“He’s probably in Vegas. Didn’t he say he was going there?”

“Yes, but he usually tells me his whereabouts. It’s been two months.”

“Is his answering machine still working?”

“Yes.” I opened my fridge and inspected expired foodstuff on semi-empty shelves.

“Then he’s fine. Otherwise his phone would be disconnected.”

“You’re probably right,” I said hopefully. “I’m just concerned, and could sure use his wisdom.”

“More Gabriel problems?” she pried.

“Not problems. He’s just so ingrained in my heart it’s tough to keep him in the friend zone.”

“Because you two love each other. If it weren’t for his family’s interference you’d still be together.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Still, the family situation happened and the damage is irreparable.”

“It’s sadly complicated,” she said pensively. “But I’ll always think of y’all as a great couple.”

“
Like Jane Eyre and Edward, once he lost his crazy wife.” I trash canned some grey-green carrots and matching tofu. “Unfortunately, we lean toward Zhivago and Lara.”