Ordinary World (7 page)

Too late
, I thought. I was paralyzed for life.

Chapter Eight

July

           
I
WAS SPRAWLED OUT ON THE SOFA IN THE DEN watching a Yankees-Red Sox game while the air conditioning unit whirred obtrusively. Hideki Matsui just hit a triple, putting the Yanks up seven to four in the bottom of the fifth inning. One out. All of Yankee Stadium roared and jumped to their feet in the midst of the heat.

            Sam and I used to watch these rivaled games with a fierce, often arousing competitive edge. The winner had to “console” the losing opponent by performing some kind of pleasurable act: cooking a certain meal; a backrub; oral sex; you name it. One time Sam made me wash his car.

            A forceful knock at the door jolted me as I flashed back to the night Sam was killed. Tentatively creeping to the door, some part of me expected to see the police officers on the other side, waiting to address me: “Mrs. Vanzant?”

            I cracked the door ajar, then pulled it open when I saw Jeff, a milkshake in each hand, one of which he sipped.

            I exhaled a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here?” I asked, taking a step back to let him in.

            “Here, take this—I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

            “Thanks.” I took a sip. Strawberry-Banana.

            Dressed in tan Docker shorts, sneakers without socks, and a faded, moth-eaten, 2004 Red Sox World Champions t-shirt, Jeff looked like he should be out barbecuing rather than sipping milkshakes. He’d cut his hair extra-short for the summer, almost crew cut style. I didn’t like it. I had donned a pair of Sam’s ripped jeans—they fit me now—and transformed them into cut-offs, accompanied by a heather grey NU t-shirt, size large.

            “What’s up, kid?”       

“Matsui just got a triple,” I reported.

            With that news, he headed straight for the den, cursing. I followed behind.

            “Damn,” he said, fixated on the screen. The new Yankee rookie was at bat.

            “You never know, they might pull through. It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.”

            He smirked at me, knowing my appeasement was a sham. The rookie grounded out to third and ended the inning.

            “Sorry about the pop-in, but I was out running errands and realized I haven’t seen or spoken to you in too damn long, so here I am.”

            “Bullshit you had errands. During a Yankee-Sox game?”

            “Sox-Yankee game.”

            I cocked an eyebrow at him. He smiled. Jeff was good-looking. Not like Sam, but attractive nonetheless. Except for the crew cut.

            “Okay,” he confessed. “I came to see you.”

            “I’m flattered,” I said. “Really.”

            “You should be. So? What’ve you been up to?”

            I shrugged my shoulders. “Nothing much, really. I get up. I do whatever. I go to bed.”

            He ambled from the den to the kitchen so as not to let the game distract him.

            “That’s it?”

            “Pretty much. I’m bored out of my skull, actually.”

            “How’s the shrink working out?”

            “Fine. I mean, I like going.”

            “Made any progress?”

            “Hard to tell.”

            A moment of silence passed between us. We both sipped our milkshakes. Mine gave me goose bumps every time I swallowed.

            “Getting out much?” he asked.

            “You mean, socially?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Not really,” I said.

            “Why not?”

            Sam and I weren’t social butterflies, but we’d dined with friends at least twice a week, together or separately. We had friends like Jeff and his wife Patsy, with whom we hung out in couples, as well as our own friends, like Miranda (and Maggie, in New York) for me and Sam’s best friends George and Justin. Occasionally we’d either attend or host a dinner party consisting of our colleagues—we often liked to combine Edmund faculty with NU faculty and watch them try to one-up each other like competitive cousins. During the first few weeks after the funeral, they’d all called or dropped by to “check in” on me. By Christmastime, with the exception of Maggie and Miranda, I’d started avoiding their calls. By January, they’d pretty much abandoned me. I didn’t take it personally. My guess was that they felt the way I did: that to face each other was to face the conspicuous absence of the man we so dearly loved, a man who livened up dull parties, who was our best buddy, thoughtful and funny and all around great guy.

            “Everyone fell off the face of the earth. Or maybe I did and they stopped looking for me,” I said.

            Jeff looked at me earnestly. “I owe you an apology.”

            “For what?”

            “I cut you loose after the incident at school, and I didn’t mean to. I guess I figured you needed time. Or maybe I did, I don’t know. I didn’t like seeing you that way.”

            “I don’t blame you. Besides, I didn’t see it as you cutting me loose. You did your job.”

            “But to not call you all this time? I’m your friend first. At least, I should be.”

            “You have other priorities,” I said.

            “Friends should be a priority. Life is too short.”

            Had he really been thinking of Sam today, and that’s why he dropped by? Regardless, his words touched me, and my eyes misted. I slurped my milkshake, then kissed him on the cheek, my lips cold and puffy. I suddenly realized how much I missed hanging out with Jeff. Hell, hanging out with anyone, really—laughing, shooting the breeze, entertaining, feeling free and light and happy.

            “Apology accepted,” I said.    

            He blushed. “Anyhoo, Patsy and I wanna have you over for dinner next week. So pick a day, and ‘no’ is not an option.”

            Jeff never liked to leave anything up in the air. I picked Wednesday.

            “Perfect.” He looked out the kitchen window. “When was the last time you cut the grass?”

            “I don’t know how to use a mower,” I replied sheepishly.

He looked at me as if to say, typical girl.

“What can I say?” I said. “I had older brothers, then a string of apartments, then a husband who actually loved doing it, the freak.”

            He laughed, and looked at me in a moment of recognition; even I felt the split second of normality.

            “Well, I’m sure he’d be freaking out if he saw his beautiful lawns in such condition. Geezus, you’ve probably got lions and tigers grazing back there and don’t even know it.”

            “Oh, please—it’s not
that
bad! I paid a neighborhood kid to do it about a month ago. Then again, maybe it was closer to six weeks…”

            “Well, I’m gonna do the front now, and come back tomorrow to show you how to use the mower and help you with the back.”

            As he went out to the garage, the condition of the rest of the house had suddenly come into sharp focus: dishes piled in the sink; leftover Chinese food cartons lining the counters; a mountain of laundry covering the washing machine; bed unmade; dust bunnies procreating in corners; and paper everywhere—books, magazines, newspapers, syllabi and handouts and student papers from the last two semesters, unfinished essays, you name it—atop just about every table and chair in the house.

           
What a freakin’ mess.

            While Jeff mowed the lawn, I triaged the kitchen counters and wiped them down. I then searched the fridge for something to serve him as a thank-you: a slice of leftover pizza, three eggs, half-empty jars of peanut butter and jelly, and frozen waffles. Lots of cookies, though.

            About fifteen minutes later, he re-entered the house without knocking, sweaty and covered with grass clippings stuck to this calves and ankles.

            “Now I know why Sam liked moving the lawn,” he said. “That machine is wicked awesome.”

            I couldn’t help but smile; Sam was a stereotypical guy when it came to electronics and power tools.

            “Yeah, he used to go on and on about it, but I never listened to him. The neighbors probably envied it, though.”

            “He was a lucky guy.”

            “Not lucky enough.”

            I could tell Jeff was as sorry for what he said as I was for what I said.

            “So,” I pressed on, “I still make a kick-ass PB and J. Go in and watch the rest of the game while I fix you one. Yanks are still up, bottom of the seventh.”

            “Thanks, but I should go before Patsy thinks I actually drove out to Fenway. Besides, the Sox are gonna lose.  Rain check for tomorrow?”

            “Suit yourself.”

            He helped himself to a glass of water, and turned the faucet on and off to inspect the washer. “Tell you what. I’ll do a run-through of the house tomorrow and see if there’s anything else that needs fixing.”

            “That would be great.” I put my arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”

            “No problem,” he replied, squeezing me. “It’s long overdue.” We let go and I dabbed my eyes. “You gotta start living again, kid. You and Sam were like a pair of gloves. I’ve never seen a better couple. But you were also individuals, with lives of your own—that’s what was so great. It’s as if you buried that with him. You need to get that back.”

            “We’ll see.”

            Jeff kissed me on the cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

A cheer erupted in the background, signaling yet another home run for the Yankees. He shook his head and cursed again, while I gave him a cocky smile as I closed the door behind him. It’d been a long time since I’d smiled like that, since I’d felt a man’s presence around the house, since I looked forward to company. How grateful I was for Jeff. Best of all, the Yankees won that day.

Chapter Nine

           
I’
D BEEN UP UNCHARACTERISTICALLY EARLY—SINCE seven-thirty—cleaning the house. Jeff’s visit had inspired me. He kept his word and showed up around eleven o’clock, attired almost exactly the same as the day before, this time a different Red Sox World Champions t-shirt. We went out to the garage where the mower was waiting, Jeff carrying an opaque container of gas for which I reimbursed him.

            “Sam never showed you how to do this?” he asked.

            “Oh, he showed me once, when he first got it. But I’m the type of person who needs to be shown something repeatedly. You know, I like my hand held for the first couple of tries.”

            “No wonder your students love you so much.”

            I grinned. “Anyway, I obviously wasn’t as into it as he was, so we just kind of agreed that mowing the lawn wasn’t going to be my thing. Actually, I offered to take out the garbage from then on in exchange.”

            “And did you honor that vow?”