Hungry for Love (63 page)

It was hot outside, so it was natural that Sally’s face would appear a bit damp from the heat, but Annabeth was certain her daughter perspired because she was unready to make this huge commitment, this monumental decision.  She was a baby still, just a girl, too young, way too young, and not ready.  “No,” insisted Annabeth, “They’re too young.”

“It’s okay Mom, really,” whispered Sally. 

“You’ll get married on Valentine’s Day,” decided Maggie.

Thinking that would allow them plenty of time for postponements if necessary, Annabeth offered no further protests.  Later, as she and R.J. drove home, she spoke up.  “What were you thinking, bullying those kids like that?”

“I wasn’t bullyin’ nobody.”

“R.J.!  You just can’t do things like that.  Remember the bike?”  He looked at her, narrowed his eyes and remained silent.  Sally had been three when R.J. decided she should be able to ride a bike that was too big for her.  He pushed and pushed and eventually she did ride the bike, but the moment he stood back and left her to do it on her own, Sally toppled and bloodied her knee.  “She wouldn’t get back on a bike until she was six, remember?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, she’s not three.”

“Kids have to do things when
they’re
ready, not when we think they should.  Not that I think Sally and Jackson need to rush into anything.  They’re young.”

“Why should she be on my back all my life?  He
should
marry her.”

“On your back?  What’s wrong with you, R.J.?”  How many beers had he drunk? 

“Yeah well, he’ll live with her for a while, get sick of her and kick her out.  Then I’ll have to take care of her.”

Annabeth shook her head.  “What a thing to say about your daughter! 
Jackson
loves Sally, you know that.  He always has.  Since eighth grade.  And Sally works at the bank, earns her own living.  She’s not some property that needs taking care of!”

There was a sense of raw desperation in R.J.’s eyes as he glanced at her.  He looked like an animal right after it had been trapped in a cage.  “I know, you’re right, I’m sorry, I know.”  He parked the van in front of their home and wearily exited it, lumbering up the few steps to the front porch, where he dropped down heavily into a rocker.

Sitting down in the rocker beside his, Annabeth watched R.J. as he sat silently smoking.  “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

His voice cracked as he answered, “Life.  There oughtta be more than this.  I’m forty-seven.  Might as well be ninety-seven.  I flew planes…well I could have…would have…I wanted to.”  His eyes flashed as he spoke, the yearning for what might have been an ache in his voice.  “I fill vendin’ machines with candy, day after day.  Drive like the wind in that van, gun the engine, feel the motor rev, for what, for nothin’.”

Her anger at his earlier comments gone, Annabeth reached out her hand and clutched R.J.’s.  He was lonely, terribly lonely, and unfulfilled.  He drove so many miles all alone every week on his vending machine route when what he really wanted was to be with her.  How many nights did he get to spend at home these days?  One a week?  Poor R.J.!  “Oh, hon!” she said, her voice tender and loving and filled with compassion and understanding.  “I can travel with you.  Help you with the route.  Be with you at night in the motels.”  She smiled shyly, her eyes glowing with love, and she continued, “It will be our time together.  Like a honeymoon, just you and me.  And then you won’t be so lonely.”  Expecting to see R.J. relax and smile, Annabeth gazed more deeply into his eyes, but the look of desperation was still there; in fact he looked cornered, like his head was about to explode, so she grew even more worried and clutched his hand more tightly.  “It could be the best time of our marriage, romantic, and lots of time to talk.  It could be wonderful,” she said softly.

“Don’t be silly, that’s nuts.”  He walked into the house, not waiting for further discussion.

When they finally climbed into bed for the night, Annabeth slid over next to him, snuggling against his side and resting her palm gently against his cheek.  They hadn’t made love in a long time.  She paused for a moment to think about it.  When was the last time?  He was so rarely home…she had wanted to…when was that…he was tired that night…when was that?  She leaned in closer and kissed him on the cheek, sliding her hand along his chest.  Normally he would reach for her then…he used to reach for her first…hasty and passionate, but now she reached for him first more often, but that was all right, wasn’t it?  R.J. twitched, like a shiver of discomfort, and he turned away from Annabeth, his back to her.  Instead of turning over and letting him sleep she slid closer, spooning against him and kissing his back.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, “Will you let me sleep!”

Annabeth moved away from him then, back to her own side of the bed.  He was obviously in a deep depression. This couldn’t be good.  What could she do to fix things?  He didn’t want sex, felt burdened by his daughter, was unhappy with his work.  Poor R.J.  He’d always needed excitement and when he’d said he was leaving his job as an airplane mechanic and starting that vending machine business Annabeth had been glad for him.  R.J. yearned to travel and although driving from town to town all over the
Florida
panhandle on a route to fill vending machines wasn’t exactly the thrilling life he envisioned, it was far less restricting and probably much better for him.  But what had gone wrong?  He’d been on the road for twelve years now, home less and less often.  That must be it.  He needed to be home more.  The girls were grown so they could cut back on expenses now.  Maybe she could suggest that he slow down a bit?  Spend more time at home, take up a hobby, find something that made him excited again.  Yes!  That’s what she would do tomorrow when he woke up.  Feeling content that she had solved the problem and that R.J. would soon be happier, Annabeth drifted to sleep for a few hours.

She rose early, noting with satisfaction that R.J. still slept and she went downstairs to prepare his favorite breakfast.  He would eat, then they would talk and things would get better.  The cat, a gray short hair with a pink nose and green eyes that slanted often when he looked at her, waited in the kitchen.  Annabeth scooped him up for a hug, saying “Good morning, Rogers, you snugglepuss,” then gently placed him on the floor, and fed him before proceeding.  In a matter of moments she’d inserted a pan of perfect biscuits into the oven and had started frying the bacon that R.J. would eat with every meal if she let him.

R.J. walked into the kitchen, silently helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat at the table.  He sighed once, took a deep breath, started to speak, then fell silent again. 

“Morning!” said Annabeth cheerily.  “Fried eggs and bacon.  Hot biscuits.  Your favorite jam.”  She smiled at him, then began cracking eggs into the pan that still sizzled with bacon grease.  She would let him eat first, then tell him her plan.

R.J. accepted the plate of food, and in his characteristic fast and ravenous fashion, gobbled the breakfast in a few huge bites.  Annabeth had eaten only a quarter of what was on her own plate when he pushed his aside.  “I gotta tell…I wanna make…I’m gonna.”

Annabeth smiled at him.  “You need a change,” she said calmly.

“Yes!”

“You’ve been working so hard for so long,” she continued, when he interrupted her.

“I’m gonna move outta the house.  Need to be on my own now.  Need some time to myself.”

“What?” she exclaimed, unable to believe what he was saying.

“I wanna separation.  I’m movin’ out today.  Probably go stay at Mom’s apartment.”

The breath knocked out of her, Annabeth opened her lips to mouth the word
what
again, but she was unable to speak.  He didn’t need more time at home with her; he wanted to go away from her.  But how could this have happened?  She reached her arm out to touch R.J., to calm herself and him, knowing there must be something she could say, something that would set everything back to rights.  “You’re going to live in our old apartment?”  R.J. wanted to return to live in the garage apartment at his mother’s house, the place where they’d begun their marriage.  “But why?” 

“Told you why.  Need some time alone.”

“So this is just temporary, like a little vacation?”

“Shit, Annabeth, I don’t know.  I gotta get outta here.  I’ll come back in a day or two for some stuff.”

She rose and followed him to the door, saying, “Wait R.J., don’t go.”  But he ignored her and she watched him climb into his van and speed away. Her mind racing, Annabeth whispered, “I can’t just let him run out on me like that, I have to do something.”  She walked back into the house, reaching for her purse and car keys then raced out the door and climbed into her car, an old hand-me-down from R.J. that had been giving her trouble for months.  She turned the key in the ignition and the engine started, but stalled.  “Start,” she commanded, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, which was broken, then at her watch.  She had to talk to R.J., had to make him change his mind.  Several times the car started, then stalled, once making a new kind of grinding sound that Annabeth didn’t recognize.  “Finally!”  The engine had turned over at last.

It was a small house, a cottage really, with a detached garage which had long ago been converted into an apartment that had been unoccupied for years. Not thinking it was right just to walk in the door as she normally would, Annabeth rang the bell and Mother Welner came to the door.  She was a slight woman, not yet bent or even old, but she looked older than she was.  Her gray hair was permed and set into a frozen swirl about her face.  She pursed her lips when she saw Annabeth and did not reach out to offer a hug.  Once they had been on good terms, but that was a long time ago, and Annabeth didn’t have the strength to think about that now.  Instead she spoke as politely as possible, hoping to bypass her mother-in-law entirely.  “Hello Mother Welner,  I’d like to see R.J.”

“I don’t think he wants to see you.”

Annabeth winced.  Before she could insist, the door swung open.  R.J. stood behind his mother.  She walked through the door, saying,  “We need to talk.”

The living room was badly furnished with too-large pieces covered in cheap brocade.  The end and coffee tables were finished to look like Mahogany, although they were actually constructed of a cheaper wood.  Scattered everywhere were knick knacks of a generally worthless type, and of course there were the inevitable photographs of children and grandchildren, framed in imitation gold and silver.  The couch was quite old, although it had been maintained impeccably, primarily because no one was allowed to sit on it for its first ten years in the house.  It was on one end of this sofa that Annabeth sat facing her husband on the other.  Mother Welner, not wanting to miss the confrontation, sat in her favorite chair, her feet propped up on the ottoman that matched it.

Annabeth, looking deep into her husband’s eyes, was trying to send a message to him, hoping that he would see the need for privacy and would suggest that his mother leave the room, which he did not.  Annabeth began to cough then, more from awkwardness than anything else.  “Could I have a glass of water?” she asked between gasps.

“Help yourself,” said her mother-in-law.

In the kitchen, she filled with water one of the faded gold-rimmed glasses in the cupboard and waited for R.J. to come after her, which he did after several lengthy moments.  She looked directly at him and said, “Come home.”

He shook his head.  “That’s not gonna happen.  I’m forty-seven years old.  This is my last chance at a life, at some fun.”

“We’ve been together for twenty-five years.  Has it been so bad?”

He shook his head again, impassive and cold.

“Let me help you with this, hon.  Come home.”

R.J. reached into the refrigerator, helping himself to a can of beer, which he opened at leisure and swigged.  “Is it money?  I never said I wouldn’t take care of you.”  She shook her head and watched with amazement as R.J. reached into his pocket, extracting a couple of fifty dollar bills and pressing them into her hand.

Before Annabeth could comment, Mother Welner entered the room and said, “When I lost my husband, I went out and got a job.”  She snatched the money from Annabeth and tucked it into the shapeless and drooping pocket of R.J.’s T-shirt.