Homefires (64 page)

He was on his knees on the bed, his features bewildered. “Why?”

“Because,”
irritation seized me, “You just
do.”
I turned away and began to pick up things scattered over my room – instinctively trying to restore some measure of order.

But I suddenly felt his arms slide around me from behind – his lips moved over my neck and shoulders.

My knees turned to water. “Chris – ” I whispered, “stop.” I felt myself turned by strong hands and pulled up against the long length of this young man, revealing my effect on him. “Please – ” but his mouth moved over mine in hungry exploration. I fought against a wild urge to respond.

God, please help me!
I pulled away from his kiss only to have his hand slide into my hair and press my face to his neck.

“Oh, Janeece,” he cried out, “I want you.”

“No.” I pulled back and felt his soft cheek brush against mine.

His soft cheek. A boy’s cheek. That was, for me, the bottom line.

And I realized that, perhaps even subconsciously, I’d fostered the idea of retaliating against Kirk’s cruel betrayal. But this young man could be my
son.

“No.” My voice, this time, was more firm as I pushed him away. “No, Chris!” I stepped away.

His glazed eyes turned tormented. “You can’t do this to me, Janeece!”

I felt only a niggle of guilt. For only a moment.

“Why, Janeece?” He reached out to me imploringly.

“Because,” I snapped, annoyed with him, with myself, with the whole thing. “Just – because. I can’t.”

“Oh, Janeece.” He fell backward across the bed. “I want you so bad....” He rolled into fetal position. I struggled against the sympathy rising in me.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Chris. Get your things and go. I’m going into the bathroom and taking a bath. When I come out, I want you gone.”

“Let me take a bath with you, Janeece.” His voice was husky.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Oh
God.”
I slammed the door and quickly locked it.

“Janeece!” He hammered on the door as I filled the tub.

“Go away!” I slipped into the water and lay back.

“Janeece? Please let me in. Open the door.” More hammering. “Let me take a bath with you.”

“No!” My sympathy evaporated. I felt like shaking him as I would a petulant child.

“Janeece? Please...” he whined.

“Chris?”

“What?”

“You’re being an imbecile.”

Silence.

I finished my bath and dried off.

“I’m leaving, Janeece. I’m getting my things.”

“Goodbye, Chris.”

“I’ll bet you won’t even talk to me tomorrow. I know I’ve been an imbecile.”

I wrapped the thick white towel around me.

“Janeece?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Will you talk to me tomorrow?”

I stifled a laugh. “Yes, Chris. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” It was my fault – the situation.

“Bye, Janeece.”

I heard the door open and close softly. I emerged from the bathroom and gazed about to make sure it was empty. I
released my breath on a long sigh, then pulled on a short teddy and slipped between cool sheets.

“Oh Kirk,” I moaned, his beloved angular features my last vision before sleep came.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

As it turned out, I didn’t talk to Chris the next day. When I arrived at poolside with my paraphernalia, the area was deserted. Relief surged through me as I settled into a lounge chair and pulled out my writing pad. The words came readily today. I’d found that the more circumstances cornered me, the more my creative juices flowed. I recognized my need to escape reality. By creating plot and characters, I was in control. All my endings would be happy. If only I could arrange my own life so easily.

Mid-afternoon, I phoned the salon.

“J and K’s on Main, Kirk speaking,” came my husband’s vibrant voice.

“Hi.”

“Hi, darling.”

I closed my eyes and let his words caress me and snap my world in place. “Are you busy?”

“Just finishing...Bye, Mandy. See you next month.” He laughed at something the regular, middle-aged client said in parting. “Okay, honey, I’m back. God, I’ve missed you.”

Then, “Having fun?”

“Mmm. So so.”

“That mean you’re ready to come home?”

I thought about it for a moment. “It might.”

“You’ve already paid for the next twenty-four hours. May as well enjoy it.” I heard him greet his next client. “Gotta run. My appointment is here. Love you, honey,” his voice vibrated with emotion.

“Me, too.”

“Have you missed me?”

“Mm hm.”

“Sure?” Did I imagine tension in the word?

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The line went dead. For long moments, I stared at the receiver in my hand, wondering what in blazes I was going to do to fill up the rest of the day.

The Coquina Room was nearly filled. I sat alone, sipping my watery Seven-Up. Loneliness drove me there. By nightfall, I’d had it up to here with my quiet room and silent phone. When I’d called home, I got no answer. A quick call to Dad and Anne’s confirmed Toby was still there. Dawn and Heather were at Trish’s. Where was Kirk? It had been my understanding he was going to pick Toby up earlier today. Why had he changed his mind?

“You okay, Neecy?” Anne’s voice had relayed her worry. “Kirk said you’d been depressed.”

“I’m fine, Anne. I didn’t really want to come, but Kirk insisted it would do me good to get away.”

“It probably will. You’ve been working too hard, according to Kirk.”

I heard, behind Anne’s kind words, her disappointment that I’d closed them all out in recent years. But it wasn’t in her nature to be intrusive or demanding and now, more than ever, I was grateful. I’d quickly ended the conversation.

Tonight, I gazed about me. The lowered lights cast an enchanting spell over the party atmosphere. Everybody seemed carefree yet glamorously postured. Except me. The scene would have been Norman Rockwell funny had I felt light-hearted enough to laugh. As it was, my chest felt weighted with an iron anvil – cold and heavy.

I’m different. I’ve always been different.
Any other woman would have been having the time of her life but not old Janeece. My fingers curled against palms until I felt the long nails cutting blood.
Kirk has to run you off to get you out of his hair.

Where
was
Kirk? Why had he been so desperate to get rid of me anyway?

Anger, a white-hot force, gathered inside me.

“May I?” A male voice pulled my attention to my left, where a neatly dressed man with a nice smile held out a hand to me.

Feeling more than a little reckless, I took his hand and let him steer me to the dance floor. The little black sleeveless knit dress with its dainty gold buckle had cost a fortune and tonight, I was glad for its classy look. I enjoyed the respect I saw in the man’s eyes.

The slow song was not one I recognized, but my partner was a good dancer, easy to follow and I began to relax. As we chatted, I learned he was a tech math teacher from Orangeburg attending an educational convention. “So that’s why the Coquina Room is so packed out,” I said, “A convention.”

“Undoubtedly.” The song ended and he politely thanked me for the dance.

When I sat down, the anger I’d felt earlier returned full force. I got to my feet and sought out a pay phone. After twenty rings at the Crenshaw residence, I slammed down the receiver and whirled around to backtrack –

“Oops,” male hands steadied me.

Startled, I gazed up into a familiar face. “Chris – ”

“Janeece,” a very big grin slid across his good-looking face “I thought that was you heading out the door. I followed to make sure.”

“Wh—where are your buddies?”

“Split to see some girls they met.”

“You mean you haven’t run into an irresistible female down here?” I teased.

“Yeah. You.”

I gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

He rolled back his head in laughter. “I know, I know. You think I followed you here, but I promise – scout’s honor—I only came after getting bored at the Sandlapper Bar.” He shrugged, looking so boyishly innocent, I burst into laughter.

“So,” he gently took my elbow and steered me back to the main room, “don’t let me spoil your fun. Just act like I’m not here. Okay?”

He settled me into my chair and asked, quite uncertainly, “Would you mind if I join you?”

“Oh, sit down, Chris,” I said, fighting back laughter, suddenly thankful somebody wanted to be with me. Heck, even Kirk wanted me gone.

Mine was not self-pity. It was a cold acceptance of placelessness. Whereas the old Janeece worked at making people happy and charming them into loving her, the new woman accepted that she was not solely responsible for others’ contentment and was resigned that she was not always loved in return.

The band, accepting requests, struck up
Special Angel
, and I felt my eyes moisten. It was one of my and Kirk’s favorite love songs. I pinched my forehead to squelch tears, knowing what a mess I’d be if they spilled over and trailed through my makeup. I’d look like a raccoon with scars streaking down my cheeks. Even Chris would be mortified.

“May I?”

My head jerked up. “Of course, Chris.” Gratitude shot out the top of my head and my fingers eagerly linked with his as I followed him to the spotlighted area of the room. Much of my starch dissolved as he took me into his arms and, very gentlemanly, whirled me onto the dance floor. Then he began to make little harmless descriptive asides about some of the more eccentric dancers. By the end of the number, he had me laughing till my sides hurt.

“That’s better,” he gazed down at me like a fatherly figure. “You need to laugh more, Janeece.” I was impressed with this more mature emergence of the young man.

Chris ordered himself a mixed drink. I sipped my flat Seven-Up as he stirred his fruity concoction. “That smells heavenly,” I said, chin in hand.

“Want a taste?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head firmly.

The band launched into
Sixty-Minute Man
and Chris and I danced a lively shag, laughing and mugging all the way back to the table. Then in a sheer reckless gesture, I picked up his drink and took a long pull on it. “It’s delicious,” I said.

“Here,” he said, “keep it. I’ll order another one for me.”

So, I sipped the drink, feeling sophisticated and free and all the things that, through the years, I’d disdained in others. Little nudges to my brain irritated me – I kept pushing them away. I didn’t want to think and feel guilty.

We talked and danced a couple of more dances. Chris ordered me another drink. As the evening passed, I felt better and better. My tongue began to get lazy and I laughed about that.

“I mean,” I said to Chris out of the blue, “didn’t even Jesus drink wine?”

“I believe you’re right,” he said quite seriously. “Look – don’t drink that if you don’t feel right about it.”

“I’ve about finished it anyway,” I said.

Chris scratched his head, eyeing me soberly. “How long – I mean, you really don’t drink at all?”

“Nope. I’m a to-teeler.” I giggled. “Tha’s not right, is it?”

He didn’t laugh. “A tee-totaler.” His brow furrowed. “Janeece, I’m sorry I gave you the drink. I feel terrible.”

I laughed a full, froggy belly laugh. “Not me. I feel good.”

Chris watched me warily. Like I was going to blow up or something. “How about some coffee?”

“Huh uh.” I grinned at him. “Can I have another juice drink?”

“I don’t think that would be wise, Janeece.” He looked worried now. Really distressed.

“Don’ look so sad, Chris,” I said, trying to prop on my elbow. It kept slipping off the table, making me giggle. Which made Chris more anxious but I couldn’t help that everything was hilarious. After such a long, long stretch of sadness, it felt good to turn loose and be free and have such a wonderful time with such a good friend. My best friend in the whole world, in fact.

“Hey,” I leaned close and whispered, “I feel good for the firs’ time in years.” He stared at me and I nodded solemnly. “Tha’s right. Kirk made me come here. I din’t want to.” I took another sip from the nearly empty glass, jerking it away from Chris’s hand as he tried to take it away. “Nonono. Mus’n bea – an Indian giver,” I scolded, then another giggle

“Why did Kirk make you come here?” Chris asked, watching me intently.

“Cause – ” I thought for long moments, trying to remember. Then I cut my gaze at him and grinned. “Ask me again.”

He frowned and then looked very sad. “I asked why you’re here.”

“Cause Kirk didn’t want me – with him. He wants me here.” My finger jabbed the tabletop. “So I’m
here.”