Spare Change (4 page)

Charlie, who’d had enough of looking at such bric-a-brac, claimed he’d
prefer to wait outside. While standing in the shade of a green awning fanned
out across the front of the True Love Jewelry Shoppe, he noticed a display of
necklaces hanging in the window and in he went. Twenty minutes later, when
Olivia came out with two ashtrays and a handful of postcards, he was holding a
small white bag in his hand.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a grin.

That evening, after he’d zipped the back of her dress, Charlie told
Olivia to close her eyes; when she did, he fastened the pendant he’d bought
around her neck. He placed her in front of the mirror and then said, “Okay, now
you can look.”

Olivia, who had an untold number of superstitions, gave a gasp of
horror when she saw the pendant. “It’s an
opal
!” she said. “Opals bring
bad luck. Last year a woman wearing an opal ring was found dead in a ditch.”

“Nonsense,” Charlie said, “that was just a coincidence.”

“Oh, really? What about Kathleen Riley, she bought a pair of opal
earrings and her house burned to the ground the very next day!”

“Things like that happen.”

Were it not for the fact that Charlie had hung the pendant around her
neck with the most genuine look of love in his eyes, Olivia would have ripped
it off and dropped in right into the wastebasket. Were it not for the fact they
were on their honeymoon she would have hidden the treacherous piece of jewelry
in the darkest corner of some cupboard, but as it was, she obligingly wore it
to dinner.

Halfway through the lobster bisque, Charlie said he felt a touch of
indigestion coming on and without another word he collapsed and fell forward
into the bowl of soup.

Susanna Doyle

W
hen I married Benjamin, I never figured to live the
life of Riley; but I did believe we’d move to New York City so I could make something
of myself. It ain’t like I lied about my ambition—right off, I told him, I got
singing talent but I need to be in New York where there’s opportunities. I was
working in the shipyard then, making real good money. But Benjamin, who can be
a real charmer when he wants to, says for me to quit my job, because we’re
gonna get married and he’s gonna take care of me. He didn’t say word one about
moving off to some God-forsaken farm where there ain’t nobody but chickens and
pigs to hear me sing.

I know I got a real good voice, everybody says so—at
least, everybody who’s ever heard me sing. But stuck in this backwoods dump, I
got no chance of being discovered. ‘Benjamin’, I keep saying, ‘If I ever hope
to have a singing career, I have got to get to New York City!’ I suppose I
could talk ‘til the moon turns blue, but the only thing that ever comes of it
is me and Benjamin having the same old fight.

On the Eastern Shore of Virginia

I
n a place where irrigation
canals snake across flat stretches of farmland and a scream can drift for miles
before anyone hears it, Susanna Doyle told Benjamin she was leaving him. It
wasn’t the first time she’d said such a thing, nor was it the first time he’d
answered, “Like hell you are!”

Theirs was a fight that had gone on for years. It was raging long
before Ethan Allen was born; it began three days after she stood in front of a
Justice of the Peace in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and swore that she’d love,
honor and obey Benjamin for the rest of her natural life. She did none of the three.
The ink on their marriage certificate was not yet dry when Susanna took to
saying she thought she’d made a mistake. “I thought we was gonna move to New
York City,” she’d moan. “I thought we was gonna live in a place where a singer
has opportunities!”

 Benjamin was so crazy in love with the curve of her body and the shank
of dark hair tumbling down her back, that he deafened his ears to such talk.
The first time she threatened to leave, he placated her with a fancy dress he
special ordered from Sears, after that it was a imitation sapphire ring, then
it was some perfume and lacy lingerie. Once, when he came home with a
ruby-colored satin nightgown, she threw it back into his face. “I don’t want
this crap,” she screamed, “I want to go to New York City!”

Had she asked for a simple thing such as the moon or all the stars in
the heavens, Benjamin would have turned himself inside out to get it for her—but
as for going to New York, such a thing was not possible. Susanna was a woman
who would be blinded by the bright lights of Broadway. She would be drawn away
from him just as a moth is drawn from the safety of darkness to the brilliance
of a flame. She’d spend her days tromping from audition to audition, allowing
men with fat cigars and hairy hands to paw her beautiful body. In time, her face
would take on the tawdriness of the city and the song in her throat would sound
bitter as the croaking of a frog. 

It seemed to Benjamin that Susanna should understand the pitfalls of
such a life, but instead of being grateful for the way he looked after her, she
screamed at him, threw tantrums, heaved heavy glass pitchers at his head, and
set her lips into a pout. “I’m suffocating out here!” she’d shout. “There’s no
excitement, nothing to do but watch those damned soybeans grow!” 

When she finally turned her back on him in bed and curled herself into
a ball so he couldn’t touch her breasts or find his way inside of her body, he
agreed to take her to New York City. “Just for a vacation,” he said. “After the
winter harvest, we’ll go for a three-week vacation.”  

Throughout that entire fall, Susanna danced from room to room singing
songs into the bowl of a wooden spoon. She’d stand on the front porch and belt
out
Boogie-woogie Bugle Boy
to an audience of sunflowers, or climb atop
the kitchen table and take bow after bow. “I’m good as any of those Andrews
Sisters,” she’d say, “I just need to get discovered!” In the middle of planting
a row of soy beans Benjamin would come to the house for a drink of water and
there she’d be, wriggling through the living room in a brassiere and panties.
“You think Maxine Andrews can do this?” she’d ask; then she’d shake and shimmy
till every inch of flesh on her body was quivering. She’d start in a standing
position, but before she was done she’d be down on her knees with her back
arched in a way that caused her bosoms to bust loose of the brassiere.
Afterwards, she’d throw her arms around Benjamin’s neck and kiss him with such
passion that it brought about love-making.

Mid-morning on a Wednesday in early November Benjamin got to thinking
about Susanna in her red lace brassiere, so he stopped working on the tractor
and went looking for her. Instead of singing into a spoon, she was in the
bathroom with her head hanging over the toilet. “Those pork chops we had last
night must’ve been spoiled,” she groaned.  

Benjamin dipped a washcloth in cold water and held it to her head. “I
don’t see how that’s possible,” he said, “I ate a plateful and I’m feeling
fine.  Matter-of-fact, I was thinking you might want to slip on that lacy
brassiere…”

“Asshole!” she said; then went back to puking in the toilet bowl.  

By afternoon Susanna was feeling fine, so she raised the window and
hollered for Benjamin to come back into the house. When he walked through the
door, there she was atop the kitchen table, wearing a pair of red high heel
pumps and a little bitty apron tied around her waist—not another stitch. “You
still in the mood?” she asked, then slid down and wrapped her legs around his
neck. 

That’s how it was with her; Benjamin never knew from minute to minute
whether she’d be crawling up the leg of his pants or jumping down his throat.
Why, just the thought of such a woman in New York City scared him to pieces.
Anything could happen. He could fall asleep thinking everything was just as it
should be, then wake to find she’d run off with some agent or songwriter. He
could go out for a newspaper, return and discover her in bed with the elevator
man. Even worse, she could disappear without a trace, slip down some dark alley
and never be heard from again.  Benjamin began to think going to New York, even
if it was only for a vacation, was definitely a bad idea.

That evening when they sat down to a supper of fried chicken and
dumplings, he told her he’d changed his mind about New York City. “I’ll take
you to Norfolk or Virginia Beach,” he said. “Those are fine vacation spots.”

“Virginia Beach!” Susanna screamed, “In the dead of winter?”

“Okay, we’ll go to Norfolk. Shop, eat in fancy restaurants, see a
show.”

“See a show? Watch another woman who got discovered? Some vacation that
would be!” She pleaded for Benjamin to change his mind, “I’ve got talent,” she
sobbed. “I could be somebody.”  

“You are somebody,” he answered. “You’re my wife.  It seems like that
ought to be enough for a woman.” 

“Well it’s not!” Susanna shouted; then she overturned the bowl of
dumplings into his lap and ran crying to the bedroom. Benjamin followed after
her, but she’d slammed the door and twisted the lock. That’s when he decided
that if he was to hold on to his wife, he’d have to trick her into staying
there on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. 

The next morning, Susanna was sick again. “See what you’ve done,” she
said. “All that talk of canceling our vacation has upset my system.”

Benjamin, with his eyes averted from her face, answered, “I didn’t say
we’d never go, I just said
this
wasn’t the right time.” 

Susanna’s face brightened.

He watched her from the corner of his eye. “New York winters are bitter
cold,” he said. “I’ve heard tell the temperature drops below zero and the wind
can freeze a person’s tongue if they open their mouth long enough to ask
directions. You think any talent scouts are gonna be out in weather like that?”

She sat down alongside him and slid her hand onto his thigh. “Can we go
to New York in the spring?” she asked.

“Late spring, early summer; depends on what needs doing around here.”
He tugged loose the strap of her nightgown, “And…whether or not you’re being a
good girl.” He gathered a rough handful of her breast, but before he could
slide himself into her, Susanna became sick again and went running to the
bathroom.

Three weeks later, when Doctor Kelly told her she was pregnant with a
baby due to be born the third week of May, Susanna flew into a rage of crying
and hollering, the likes of which the nurses had never seen. Barbara Ann
Taylor, who had snow white hair and thirty years nursing experience, tried to
calm her by saying how a wonderful little baby was well worth all the pain and
suffering of childbirth; that’s when Susanna heaved a tray full of sterilized
instruments across the room. “You think a baby’s so wonderful,” she told
Barbara Ann, “then you can have it!” Susanna begged and pleaded with Doctor
Kelly to do something to get rid of the baby, but of course, he said such a
thing was against the law. “They do it all the time in China,” she sobbed.    

Benjamin was delighted with the news, not because he was wishing for a
baby, but because it seemed to be just the thing to prevent Susanna from
running off to New York. “No talent scout’s gonna be looking for singers the
size of a milk cow,” he’d said; then he ducked when she hurled a pitcher of
orange juice in his direction. Susanna was always quick to show her anger and
that winter was worse than most. She broke the kitchen window three different
times, smashed an entire set of dishes and flushed her wedding ring down the
toilet.  

In February, she started to retain water, her feet swelled up to the
size of melons and throbbed if she dared to stand for longer than a half-hour,
which meant she had to quit her job at the furniture store. Although she’d sold
only one maple sofa and three lamps in eighteen months, the manager, who it was
rumored had a weakness for attractive women, had given her five raises. Once
she was no longer working in town, Susanna grew more foul-tempered and quicker
than ever to fly off the handle. “What kind of a career can a singer expect to
have,” she’d scream, “with a kid hanging onto her!”

The baby was ten days late in coming; and when it finally arrived it
was with a tearing and ripping apart of her flesh. Susanna kicked at the
doctors and screamed profanities that bruised the nurses’ ears. “I can’t stand
it anymore,” she cried, “Get this fucking thing out of me!” 

Even after Doctor Kelly announced that she had delivered a fine healthy
boy, Susanna continued to call the baby it. “Start it on formula,” she said,
“I’m not about to have my tits look like a litter of pups has been sucking them
dry!” She was in the hospital for three days and not once did she cross over to
the nursery to see the baby. 

As she was getting dressed to come home, a nurse came into the room and
handed her a copy of the birth certificate. “How can he have a birth
certificate,” Benjamin asked, “he’s not even been named.”

“He’s got a name,” the nurse answered.

“He has?” Benjamin picked up the birth certificate and read it. “Shit,
almighty!” he growled, after reading the boy’s name. “You named the kid after
that fucking furniture store!”

Susanna laughed like a person satisfied with the results of a practical
joke. “Maybe I can sell him,” she said, “like that maple sofa.”