Marriage Seasons 03 - Falling for You Again (14 page)

Charlie’s mouth formed a crooked line—one that told Esther he had something on his mind. After all these years, she hardly had to look at the man. The sound of his voice or the way he walked across the floor could give him away.

“What’s wrong?” Esther asked, knowing full well what he would say.

“Nothing.”

“Good,” she replied, “because I’m going to bed. I’ve been sorting beads till I could just about scream.”

She made as if to stand but hesitated long enough to get the response she was waiting for.

“Esther?” Charlie spoke up. “Were you ever lonely? In our marriage, I mean. You said you hoped Brad and Ashley could have a happy life like ours. But has it really been happy for you?”

“You are the silliest goose in the gaggle,” she teased him, swatting his knee. “Yes, I’ve been happy. Do I look like some miserable old hulk huddled up in a corner?”

“No, but in the hospital you said some things that bothered me. You blamed yourself for our problems. You said you had hurt me. And that has me wondering if the opposite is true. Maybe I hurt you, Esther.”

“You never hurt me. Not once.” She thought for a moment. These days, it was easier to recall events that had happened long ago than to remember what she had just been doing.

“Not ever?”

“Well, we had our spats, and maybe you did disappoint me a time or two,” she conceded. “You forgot Valentine’s Day one year. You didn’t bring me a card or a gift or anything. And you gave me that snow globe one Christmas, remember? What was inside it? A filling station! Why on earth would you think I’d like a gas pump inside a snow globe, Charlie?”

“We were too poor for me to afford a gift you would really want. You had mentioned one time that you loved snow globes. I saw an ad in the newspaper saying you could get one free if you bought twenty gallons of gas at the local Texaco. Every time the car got low, I drove over there and filled up. The man behind the counter punched my gas card, and finally I had enough holes to get you the free snow globe. I thought you’d be thrilled, but I could tell you only pretended to be pleased with it.”

“Well, for pete’s sake, a snow-blown gas station? What woman would want to look at that?” As she spoke, Esther felt a familiar cloak of darkness wrapping around her.

Ever since the accident, a sense of frustration and gloom shadowed her, hovering, waiting to descend while she wasn’t paying attention. She tried to see the good in people, but often they simply irritated the living daylights out of her. And so many things went wrong. Little annoyances—and most of them happened through her own carelessness.

“We’d been married at least a year, hadn’t we?” she asked Charlie. “You should have known me better by that time. I like pretty gifts. Jewelry, flowers, even chocolates. I know we didn’t have money, but how much could a box of candy have cost back then? Less than a tank of gas, I’ll bet. I was always fun-loving and free-spirited in those days. You could have taken me to the zoo or even made me something. You’re good with tools, Charlie, and I enjoy handmade gifts. Something artistic would have been nice. But a snow globe with a gas station inside? Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I gave that old thing to Charles Jr. years ago.”

Esther could see her husband staring at her through his trifocals. She had forgotten what they were talking about to begin with—a sudden brain glitch that was happening regularly these days. She had no idea how they got off on the subject of snow globes. Charlie could dredge up the craziest things.

“I’m going to run my bath,” she announced. “I’m so tired, and you just run me ragged around here. It doesn’t matter what kind of pain or suffering I’ve been through; I still have to take care of you as though you were a little boy. I can’t imagine how I used to have the energy to cook, wash, iron, and look after the kids—plus satisfy your needs.”

This time she actually intended to stand, but Charlie caught her arm. “Esther, sit down,” he said. “I’m not finished with this conversation.”

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. Couldn’t he see she wanted her bath? “What do you want to know?”

Charlie looked at the TV, staring at the black screen as if he, too, had forgotten the subject of their discussion. Then he turned to her. “It’s about our marriage. Back in the beginning when we lived in that little apartment. I finally remembered George Snyder.”

Esther’s heart skipped a couple of beats. “George? The man who lived down the hall?”

“Did you talk to him much?”

“I suppose I did. You don’t just walk past a neighbor without speaking. Honestly, Charlie, first you drag out the snow globe and now you’ve brought up someone from who knows when. I can’t imagine what on earth you’re getting at, but I’m starting to wonder if your arteries are clogging up too. Which reminds me … the doctor’s office called from Springfield today. The receptionist wanted to schedule my plaque cleanup, and I decided right then I didn’t want anyone fiddling around with me like that. So I told her to strike my name from the list. I figure if I’ve lived with it this long, I can go on for a few more years just fine.”

This time it was Charlie who sat up straight. He dropped the footrest and leaned forward on his recliner. “What do you mean you cancelled? You can’t back out of a procedure like that, Esther. Your carotid artery is halfway plugged. The doctor has to take care of it.”

“No, he doesn’t. It’s
my
artery, and I’ll decide whether anyone messes with it. Besides, I have a perfectly fine one on the other side of my neck.”

“One is not enough!”

Now Charlie was agitated, and Esther began to wish she hadn’t mentioned the phone call. Still, it took his mind off George Snyder.

“Listen to me, Charles Moore,” she said. “I am not having that doctor stick a balloon into my artery. And I’m certainly not going to let him scrape off any plaque. Do you know how small these arteries are? Right here, take a look at this. Would you want someone putting a balloon into
your
vein? I didn’t think so. You’ve opened many a clogged kitchen drain for me, and you know how that works. The dirty old gunk has to go somewhere. After you’ve run the snake through the pipe, that glop moves right on into the sewer system.”

“We’re not talking about plumbing, Esther. These arteries carry your blood supply.”

“It’s the same thing. The doctor could loosen a piece of plaque and have it float straight into my brain. Both of us know what that means. Do you want me to have a stroke, Charlie? Now think about it honestly. Would you really want me to suffer something as devastating as that? Even if I lived through it, there would be all that rehabilitation and physical therapy, just like with my mother. You’d run out of patience, and so would I. So no thanks. That’s what I said today, and that’s what I meant. Don’t even bring up the subject again, or we’ll have another spat.”

Rising, she brushed his hand away as he tried to reach for her. Without letting him speak again, she padded toward the bathroom. She truly hated having these little quarrels with Charlie.

Some issues came up frequently, and even after almost fifty years, they had never been resolved. Esther hadn’t been fond of her husband’s parents, for example. They didn’t think she was raising the children right. When Ellie got into trouble with drugs and alcohol, that gave them the trump card. Oh, they had looked so superior when they came over to the house to discuss what should be done with their granddaughter. Not even their deaths had erased the problem. Every now and then, Charlie would mention his dear mother or his sweet old dad. It was all Esther could do to bite her tongue—and sometimes she didn’t bother to try.

She closed the drain in the tub and started the water running. Then she poured in a capful of fragrant bath salts. As she swished them around, she began to think of one thing after another that her husband did to annoy her. He left his big wet snow boots right in front of the door. He forgot to fill the birdbath. He was always watching those crazy talk shows or yelling out answers on game shows—as if he were a real contestant. And no matter how old he got, the man was forever after her to “make whoopee,” as he put it. Didn’t he have a clue what the word
osteoporosis
meant?

It was a wonder Esther bothered to encourage Ashley Hanes in her marriage. Charlie had been so difficult all these years, and Brad Hanes sounded ten times worse.

As she stepped into the tub and eased down into the warm water, Esther felt her nerves begin to relax at last. A husband could be such a trial. But really, when she thought about it, not too much more difficult than a dog. Boofer was always wanting to go outside. Then he would turn right around and bark to get back in. He’d had fleas and allergies and worms. The money they had spent on veterinary bills was downright obscene. And that didn’t even take into account the dog’s occasional accidents on the living room carpet or the kitchen tile.

Well, at least Boofer didn’t bring home snow globes with gas pumps inside. Or ask irritating questions. What was bothering Charlie so much that he had to keep bringing up George Snyder? Let bygones be bygones—that was Esther’s motto. And if it was up to her, the name of the artist down the hall would never come up again.

“You know who I was thinking about today?” Pete asked as he and Patsy sat side by side in the darkened, empty movie theater at the outlet mall in Osage Beach. “Esther and Charlie Moore.”

“Esther came to the salon yesterday for her regular set-and-style,” Patsy said. “It’s good having her back. The TLC wasn’t the same without her, and I missed seeing her in my chair every Friday afternoon. What made you think of them?”

Patsy had managed to fit into her pencil skirt, a warm nubby sweater, and a pair of knee-high leather boots. She had curled her blonde hair, redone her nails, and stuck on a set of false eyelashes. They were the wispy kind that looked natural enough to fool Pete. In her mind’s eye, she imagined herself as a long, lean lioness prowling the savanna. But she felt like a sausage stuffed way too tight inside its casing. She was going to have to quit eating at the Pop-In or pretty soon she would start popping out.

“Charlie bought a tank of gas this morning,” Pete told her. “We talked about the usual things—weather, fishing, football. He said the insurance company decided that Esther’s car had been totaled in the wreck. He’s not planning to buy another one.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Esther told the TLC about both of them falling asleep on their drive home from seeing the doctor in Springfield. It was funny in a way. But when you think about what could have happened …”

Though Patsy had second-guessed her decision to go out with Pete, she felt fairly at ease after all. He sure looked handsome with that shaved jaw and combed hair. Pete had actually put on a real button-down oxford shirt instead of his usual T-shirt. He had tucked it into his jeans and was wearing a belt. Patsy couldn’t remember ever seeing Pete in a belt. All in all, he didn’t look half bad. The way he normally dressed, he came across as paunchy and haphazard. But tonight, she decided, he could better be described as stocky. His big shoulders filled the back of the theater chair from one side to the other. He had long, well-muscled legs, too. Good legs, if you could say that about a man.

“Crazy driving is never amusing to me,” Pete said. “I’m a big NASCAR fan, and I’ve heard people complain about the number of wrecks. But let me tell you, Patsy, those drivers know exactly what they’re doing. They take a lot of safety precautions, too. I think Charlie’s wise to keep Esther in the passenger seat. Why risk another mishap?”

The local advertising on the big screen had ended, and now the trailers for new movies began. The lights went down until the theater was completely black. Behind them, someone dropped an open bag of Skittles, and the candies rolled down the floor toward the front of the room. The aroma of popcorn and nacho cheese drifted through the air. That’s when Pete reached over the back of Patsy’s seat and put his arm around her.

The moment Pete folded her into the protection of those big muscles, Patsy lost track of what was on the screen. Wow, did this man smell good. She recognized a piney-smelling aftershave she had always liked. His hand cupped her shoulder, and he tugged her a little closer.

“You know what I was thinking about the Moores?” Pete murmured against Patsy’s ear. “I was thinking how well they fit together. Kind of like us.”

“Us?” That single pronoun was all she managed to croak out before the feature film began.

Pete had chosen the movie, and Patsy tried to concentrate on the car chases; gun battles; and frequent loud, fiery explosions. But all she could think about were Pete’s words. Did he and Patsy fit together? Were they anything at all like the long-married Esther and Charlie Moore?

From the moment Patsy had met her next-door neighbor in the Tranquility shopping strip, she had been able to see only their differences. He was noisy. She was quiet. He was so messy and disheveled that she often referred to him as a shaggy sheepdog or a big, hulking bear. Patsy loved fashionable outfits, pretty cosmetics, manicured nails, and expensive perfume. While she constantly updated her hair—experimenting with color and style, trying always to look her best—Pete rarely bothered to get his cut. It grew long and scraggly around his ears and neck. Until she objected, he wore an untrimmed beard.