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Night Deposit

By: calibeachgirl



Chapter 1

You've got to take the good with the bad

copyright @ calibeachgirl

all rights reserved, 2011

...although this is listed in 'loving wives', i really feel that it is a romantic story of the love one man has for the three different women in his life...

...that being said, there is no explicit sexual activity and more of a psychological journey of the people involved...

...i hope that you enjoy it and i hope that i captured what i think a man would experience given the circumstances...

...thank you, sophia.

*

You've got to take the good with the bad, smile with the sad, love what you've got, and remember what you had. Always forgive, but never forget. Learn from mistakes, but never regret.

My wonderful, loving Belle and I were having dinner at Baxter's, celebrating Reagan's second election. While we both liked him, neither of us trusted George Bush. There was something about him that just didn't ring true, but sometimes, you have to take the good with the bad.

She was having the Ribeye, rare, while I stayed with my usual medium-well Sirloin. And then, I saw her and my throat tightened and my stomach clenched and I almost choked on the meat I was chewing on. I grabbed my glass of iced tea and swallowed enough to finally clear my throat.

I almost didn't recognize her but there really was no forgetting her, as much as I had tried for the last twenty years. Her once-dark blonde hair had streaks of gray and she walked with both a cane and a shuffle, dragging her right foot just off the floor. Fortunately, the waitress seated her near the front which kept her from seeing us. If she stayed longer than we did, we would have to walk right by her in order to leave unless we could find another way. The last thing I wanted to do was have her back in our lives, even if just for a quick second during a chance meeting and yet my heart ached for this woman I once loved more than life itself.

Belle looked at me, saw the emotions on my face, a mixture of concern, sympathy, disgust, and followed my gaze across the dining room until she also saw Nancy. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Vince, do you want to leave? I'm sure we could get out the back, somehow?"

"No, baby, I've put that ghost to rest..." I hoped so, I thought to myself. My unsettled thoughts were interrupted by our waitress bringing out another basket of sourdough bread.

Looking at my Belle sitting near me in the booth and Nancy across the restaurant, it all came back to me in a wild rush and I traveled back twenty years when my life was so, so different, back to one of the holiest days of the year, Good Friday, March 27th, 1964...

Soon after we married, Nancy and I had settled into a comfortable division of responsibilities. She took care of the inside of the house; I took care of the heavy work and cooking. 

Nancy was a teller at the savings and loan where we banked and never home before six-thirty, sometimes seven, so it only seemed logical to me that I would cook dinner each day during the week except for Fridays during football season. Rather than seeing it as a loathsome duty, I enjoyed it and the creativity it allowed me; besides, I could eat whatever I wanted rather than something she'd half-heartedly throw together at the last moment.

She wasn't lying when she said she couldn't cook worth a damn. We'd go out to eat on the weekend, sometimes fancy, sometimes simple, but always out. It was as much a source of entertainment as going to the movies or shopping and it gave me a break from the kitchen.

Married life seemed to be so much different from the 'happily ever after' portrayals seen in books and movies and I spent half my time walking on eggshells hoping that she wouldn't explode over some imagined slight. Sometimes, she came home ready to kill without any help from me and other times she was as nice and loving as I could ever hope for.

When we were first married, Nancy kept the house immaculately clean, sometimes to the point of obsession. God help me if there was something out of place, even by an inch or two. The rugs were vacuumed each morning before she left for work and again each evening before we went to bed. Twice a week, each bathroom was scrubbed so clean you could eat off the floor.

She was so tired from cleaning that sometimes there was no intimacy for the entire weekend, sometimes the entire week; the next week she sweetly, savagely loved me like a wanton woman, a complete turnaround from just a day or two before. When I asked her why she wanted a rough 'quicky, she said while I always wanted steak and baked potato, sometimes she just wanted a burger and fries.

Life with Nancy was an emotional rollercoaster with no end in sight... and yet, I loved her and stayed true to the vows I had sworn to in front of God, her and most everyone we knew. If I gave my word, you could bet your life I would follow through no matter the personal or financial cost to me.

During football season, my unmarried assistant coaches always took over practice when five-thirty came so that Joe, the other married coach, and I could be home in time to have dinner with our wives.

Each year, after the season was over, I left campus at three in the afternoon and head home to occasionally work on my model trains; otherwise, I went around the house doing some light housework when it became obvious it needed to be done when she was in one of her moods. After a few hours of that, I was ready to fix dinner and wait for her to arrive. Sometimes, I would call at noon and tell her about dinner plans and later head to the savings and loan. We'd go to dinner straight from there. Once in a while, though, Nancy seemed more annoyed with my presence than happy to see me and I chalked it up to one of her mood swings that had plagued our lives from that very first day.

I found myself caught in a "Jiggs and Maggie" comic strip.

Then, on that miserable, fateful Friday, I had to attend a league dinner meeting to set the calendar for the next two years. At the last minute, I decided to send two of my assistant coaches in my place; I headed home and set about fixing dinner so it would be ready when she came home.

I pulled out the chicken I was going to use for Saturday night's dinner and baked it with an orange marmalade sauce, made a nice green salad just waiting for the bleu cheese and brownies for dessert. It was going to be perfect, I thought.

By six-fifteen, I had the table set and since it was the start of the weekend, I used the wedding china and silverware and even put a tablecloth down. 

Everything looked perfect and as I waited for Nancy to come home, I had the radio on listening to some new group from England, the Beagles or something like that. The girls at the school seemed to like them but I was more into the local guys, the Beach Boys and some girl singers like Barbara Lewis. Her song, Hello, Stranger was enough to break your heart and even today, that song makes me sad. So, I was a romantic at heart, somehow necessary to balance out the violence that had filled my life. Sue me.

The news said something about more troops being sent to Viet Nam and I had an uneasy feeling about it. Working with teenage boys tended to make me want to protect them as much as I could. Viet Nam... sounded like a deep inner circle of the Inferno with no way out. Listening, it made me uncomfortable, like watching a train wreck coming and you couldn't do anything about it.

Six-thirty came and went and like the fool I was, I started to worry that the chicken would dry out before she came home and the salad would wilt. Fortunately, cold brownies still tasted all right, but my idea of hot brownies and ice cream would no longer work.

At seven, the chicken sadly went from the oven into the refrigerator and I tried to eat the salad but finally threw it into the trash can outside. I stood on the back porch watching darkness envelope the coastline. It wasn't such a good idea but I ate half the brownies, I was so hungry and frustrated.

I turned off the radio; the news about Viet Nam was making me sick. 

Why hadn't she called? My mind imagined all sorts of problems ranging from a flat tire to a fatal car accident and I was stuck next to the kitchen phone just in case a call came in from my wife or the police.

The house was so quiet the ticking of the grandfather's clock was starting to drive me insane; I stopped the pendulum. It was going to be hard to set it again but I suddenly realized I didn't care, anymore. The damn clock could fall apart as far as I was concerned; damn thing constantly reminding me of each second she wasn't home.

When seven-thirty arrived, I was very worried and on edge and ate the rest of the brownies. Surely, I thought, the bank employees had finished balancing their damn accounts by now. I called the savings and loan but all I heard was the stupid machine announcing hours and days. If something had happened, the police, the hospital or Nancy herself would have called me by then... should have called me by then.

I had had enough and after checking all the windows and doors, I drove over to the back parking lot. I didn't know whether it was a good thing or not finding her bright yellow sports car and the building dark and deserted.

It was now eight and black and cold as I sat in my '57 further back in the corner of the large parking lot behind a series of boulevard stores. The two concrete block fences came together and created a deep shadow. The radio was off so that I could hear anything that happened and no one could come up on me. Even though I had Army self-defense training, it still made sense to be careful.

I was as worried then as I had been when the Cuban crisis threatened to go nuclear two years earlier and my reserve unit was called up. I had to leave her behind to cope as best she could. Looking back on it now, those three months I was gone... I guessed she coped with it pretty well.

While the Soviets had threatened the world, this was threatening my own personal world, the one that really mattered to me because without her, there was nothing else.

At nine, I had had enough and after locking the Chevy, I walked over to the blue convertible, pushed the seat back and drove it home. As angry as I was, I still wasn't that stupid and parked it on the next street over. Even though the street was bright with the overhead lights, it probably was enough to keep it hidden beneath the overhanging Chinese elms trees that lined the street.

I remembered the day I had bought that beautiful blue car... for her.

I was talking with the Kenneth Chevrolet salesman; he was very happy, almost ecstatic. The commission from that sale alone helped his Christmas budget, I thought, that was for sure.

"That's quite a nice thing you're doing. Not too many men would or could give our wives a "Vette for Christmas. These Stingrays are incredibly popular and are hard to find, right now, so we were lucky to find this one for you."

"When you love someone," I had said, "as much as I do, then it's easy. She's the most important person in my life. I don't know what I would do without her."

"OK... here's what we have: base price for the convertible, 4,037; leather seats, another 80; tinted glass, 16; hardtop, 236; positraction, 43; 3.08 axle, only 2; power brakes, 43; 327 360 horse with fuel injection, 430; automatic, 199; power steering, 75; aluminum wheels, 322; whitewalls, 31, back-up lights, 10; AM-FM, 174 and the special performance package, 1,818... total... just a sec... 7516 plus sales tax and dealer prep and delivery, 7875... tell you what, make it an even 7800. That OK, coach?"

I wrote out the check for $7800, signed it with a flourish and gave it to the salesman. The Stingray was an incredible sports car and I couldn't wait to see her face when I brought it home.

That car was fantastic. The fuel-injected 327 made the car fly like a rocket and I put every option on it I could, including automatic transmission. That first day and that night were the only times I had ever driven it. Whether I would ever drive it again was an unknown bridge I hadn't crossed yet. It seemed a glaring symbol of what was missing in my life.

Sometime just after ten, I heard her key rattle the lock and she almost stumbled in. I slowly rose from the couch where I had almost fallen asleep and approached her. She smelled of smoke and sweat and stale beer and something else I couldn't quite place but still seemed like I should have known what it was. 'Damn,' I thought, 'I am so fucking stupid.'

My wife was startled to see me home and her face turned crimson for just a split second or two before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, her face becoming stone cold.

"Nancy, baby, what happened?" I asked, wondering what possible excuse she could come up with. 

"Someone stole the car and I've been with the police." She started for the bedroom still wearing her heavy winter coat and carrying a silver clutch purse I'd never seen before.

I followed her down the hallway. I would have thought she'd be more upset about the loss of the 'Vette and a little more forthcoming on what actually took place with the police, at the very least. When she stopped at the closed bedroom door, I almost pushed into her.

"Are you all right? You were with them all this time? Was anyone with you? Four hours? What did they say? Why didn't you call me?"

"What could you have done?" she snapped back, moving back and forth from one foot to the other. If she was a guy, I thought, she was ready to throw a punch at me.

Somehow, her personality had shifted again from earlier in the morning. She had been singing along with the radio while eating her breakfast. I had commented on her happy mood and she became quiet.

"I could have been with you and brought you home, that's what I could have done. Who brought you home, anyway?"

"I'm tired and going to bed. Good night, Vince," she said... never answering my simple question.

We went into the bedroom. "Nancy, I've got your supper waiting," I said, giving her a chance to sit down and maybe talk one last time before my anger could possibly make me do something we'd both regret... well, me at least. I knew she was hiding something but still wasn't sure just what or with whom, although my stomach was as tight as a washrag twisted dry and I wanted to vomit all those brownies I had foolishly eaten earlier.

Nancy walked into the bathroom still wearing her winter coat and closed the door. I heard the lock click and then the shower running, something that never happened in the evening... at least, I started to think, when I was home.

I waited until I knew she was asleep. She could probably sleep through an atomic bomb, I remembered thinking, after one night when a passenger jet had flown low over the house and she didn't waken. I didn't want to get into bed, anyway, not after all that, probably never would, after all that. I didn't know what I was going to do. Her attitude didn't seem any worse than a few other times over the years when she fell into a depression that would last for weeks at a time.

God, my baby was so screwed up.

Going into the clothes hamper, I found a skimpy red dress; holding it up, I remembered she came in with her heavy coat on. I'd never seen the dress before. It still reeked of cigarettes and something else I still couldn't quite place but it seemed familiar, somehow. Wherever Nancy's underwear was, though, I had no clue and at that point, I no longer cared... well, maybe I did, if only for my personal pride... someone was trying to play me for a fool and I wasn't going to put up with it. Whatever acceptance I had shown for her behavior had come to an abrupt and final end. Before, I was an ignorant fool, but now...

The sad truth was staring me in the face. I threw the sticky, smelly dress into a grocery bag and went back to the kitchen and scrubbed my hands until they were as red and raw as my broken heart.

As far as I knew, my wife had never cheated on me and that's why I was having such a hard time with all that was happening.

Although it was impossibly late, I called my brother to get my old car back.

A little after midnight, we returned; I had driven Nancy's 'Vette to my brother's house. Even though my brother looked at me, waiting for an answer, I said nothing. There was nothing to say and I could see my brother shake his head when he thought I wasn't looking.

I had overlooked and accepted a lot of her strange mood swings during our five-year marriage because I had come to love her more than life itself. I took seriously my wedding vows. If I gave my word on something, I would stand by it... it was a damn shame, I came to realize, that no one else seemed bound by the same rules... or at the very least, most people.

I overlooked a lot of her even stranger behavior recently but this was something I couldn't forgive and I had to think about how to proceed. If she had indeed done what I was now thinking, then the marriage no longer existed, shattered by her own actions, freeing me from my vows and everything they implied.

The obvious 'kick her ass to the street' sounded good but I didn't want to get killed by the divorce proceedings. I knew there had to be a better way than to get steamrollered by the insane California divorce laws where the woman got everything.

As I was getting out, my brother held out to my hand. "Whatever it is, you know I'm here," he said. "Whatever..."

"OK, thanks. I'll let you know." 

I went back into my house, wondering how long it would take for it to hit the fan. I turned on the television and was astounded by news of a huge earthquake in Alaska. The massive destruction in Anchorage seemed to mirror the destruction of my life.

Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep and the dreams I did have came straight from hell.

The next morning, I awoke at six as usual even with as little sleep as I finally got. Remembering where I was, though, was another thing. I had slept on the recliner and was a little stiff after spending the night there. The television was still on; it's bluish glow lighting up the room.

The dining room table, of course, was still set from last night. I left it alone and went into the kitchen to make an omelet and some toast. Too bad there's no beer in the house, I thought, I sure could have use one now. For a man who didn't drink, I sure wanted to get drunk, a foolish response to a serious problem. Might as well put that on the shopping list, along with a gun, maybe... a big gun... seriously big, goddamned cannon...

The plate dropped into the trash. "Wedding china, the hell with it," I said to myself. I realized there was no sense in tipping my hand so I picked it back up.... I had cracked it. It seemed appropriate given the way I was feeling.

Occasionally, we would have long, loving, wonderful Saturday morning sex but the thought of that now turned my stomach and I thought I was going to lose my breakfast. I never felt so miserable in my life. Even the death of my mother didn't affect me as much as the horrors rushing through my heart.

Nancy was still sleeping, looking the same as she had since the day we married. She was lying on her stomach, dark blond hair spread out across the pillow and her left arm off the side of the bed.

Barely keeping my anger in check, I knew it was fourth down and I refused to punt. It was time for a 'Hail Mary' down the field. Never once, though, did it occur to me to pray. If she was destroying my life, praying wouldn't change that and if she wasn't, there were still plenty of believable explanations I would require.

She was still in bed at noon, fourteen hours after coming home. Whatever happened the night before... I didn't even want to think about it, but it certainly had a serious effect on her. She had never been like this, before.


Night Deposit Ch. 02



 Chapter 2 "Women and their secrets"

Copyright @ calibeachgirl 
All rights reserved, 2011

Love is a strange thing. It demands constant attention, care and devotion. It is hard to get, harder to keep and easy to wither and die.

I was brought abruptly back to the present by the waitress asking if we wanted dessert. My beautiful, wonderful Belle made a pretense of looking at the menu but I knew she would choose the New York cheesecake with strawberries and I, the good American that I thought I was, asked for apple pie.

I looked across the table at Belle, her bright smile greeting me, giving me the emotional support she knew I needed with such a surprise staring us in the face.

"Are you all right, honey? I mean, you know..." Her worried look betrayed the smile she tried to keep.

"Yes, Belle, I'm OK... it's just that..." I shook my head in disgust, repulsed at what Nancy had done to me all those years ago and yet, I thanked God each day for my Belle who loved me unconditionally.

"It's too bad," she said, "that it all happened, especially for her." Her hand took mine and squeezed it lovingly.

"Yes, it is... God, she's in such bad shape. We haven't seen her in how long?" I knew how long it was and so did Belle... down to the second.

"You haven't seen her in nineteen years, eight months, twenty-two days." She laughed. "Do you want to know how many hours and minutes, too?"

"My God, how on earth?" I was both amazed and frightened that she had kept such close attention.

"I'll never forget that first time, baby, never. Oh, good, here's dessert. Want to share?" She must be trying to make me feel so much better. Belle never shared her dessert.

"I'll never share you with anyone, Belle, never. You're my life." She seemed more than satisfied at my words of affection and took that first spoonful of cheesecake and offered it to my lips. 

I licked her spoon clean and she then whispered, "You want to lick something else tonight? I know I do." Her smile gave promise to the rest of the evening.

As usual, she didn't want any of my apple pie. As I slowly ate it, small bite by small bite, my mind returned to that insane night in 1964...

The employees' lounge was upstairs and overlooked the lobby. Still in Alisa's office, we heard several voices, including Nancy's, move noisily up the stairs. I got up and Alisa joined me walking out to the building's lobby. Standing near the back door opening to the parking lot, I watched as she went to the tellers' windows where she could signal me when my wife came downstairs.

The sound of laughter grew as people returned to the main floor. Alisa nodded her head slightly. If I wasn't looking for it, I would have missed it; around the corner came Nancy wearing a short dark orange skirt and what I guessed was a light yellow silk blouse. As nice as her clothes were, I had never seen them before, but then, I had never seen the dress from Friday night, either. My wife had a whole other life that didn't include me or our future together.

With his arm possessively around her waist was the man who I took to be Jerry... the man who, at that moment, I would have had no problems butchering like the pig he was.

They didn't notice me until they stopped where I was standing in front of the door. There wasn't any shock or surprise on my part although I was completely heartbroken to witness her deliberate betrayal. I wasn't too sure what was going on in her mind. I had already faced my demons Friday night... and Saturday... and Sunday... and this morning in the doctor's office.

Jerry didn't have a clue who I was and stood there smiling at me. I thought about taking that stupid grin off his face but then I noticed that Nancy wasn't wearing her wedding ring. It was, I thought, entirely possible he didn't even know she was married but then I remembered her phone call to him Saturday morning to this piece of trash.

Nancy had that 'deer in the headlights' look I had heard about so many times but had never really seen 'till now. At least it was gratifying to see some emotional response from her.

"Hi," I said. I put my hands in my pockets, trying to look cool but feeling anything but.

"Hello," he replied. He held her tighter to him, in his mind setting a boundary between the two of them and me. It was a subconscious move on his part but quite evident to me, working around teenagers all day long. I wanted to kill him that moment. He seemed to become a little nervous since I had not moved out of his 'space' and looked around for Canton to unlock the door.

"So," I asked, "big plans for tonight?" I smiled, actually enjoying myself for the first time in days.

"Yes, my girl and I are going to dinner and then a little dancing." He winked, letting me in on his little joke. Horizontal dancing was more like it... and evidently, not the first time, either.

"Well, that sounds pretty nice." I turned to my wife. "I'm here to take you to that birthday party, Nancy. The car's just outside." I reached for her hand with my left and and then I touched her cheek with my right, caressing her face so gently, so lovingly, thinking back to the good times we had.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" He put his hand out and pushed me back into the glass doors. The loud thump caught everyone's attention and they all turned to look. I could see several of the men starting to walk toward us even though they seemed unsure as to what was actually happening. I figured they thought that two co-workers were having some kind of trouble and decided to intercede before it got out of hand, probably by trying to put the beat-down on me.

I had expected he would do something like that so hitting the glass didn't do much except for the noise.

"Don't touch my girlfriend, asshole." He brought his hand up again. I don't know what the hell he was thinking. I already had him on assault and battery and he still didn't know who I was... I could have been a serial killer for all he knew or, as was the case, a very angry possessive husband. 

Nancy had retreated; her hands covering her face, trying to make it all go away.

His hand came toward my chest, again. You know how some people say it happened so fast they didn't see it coming? For me, it all happened in slow motion and whatever instinctive training was still buried somewhere in the back of my mind surfaced with a vengeance. All my frustration with the miserable situation exploded in his face.

One of the strangest concepts that men, well, people for that matter, seem to have is to not fight 'dirty.' It's a fight! There's no such thing as a 'fair' fight. 

I gripped his hand with my left and bent his little finger to the side violently, breaking it. He screamed like the pig he was. Just for good measure, I worked my way through the rest of his fingers, bending back and breaking each one in turn and he fell to his knees as he screamed and screamed each time I heard another 'snap.'. He would remember that night for at least six weeks with his hand splinted up, for the rest of his life. 

"Don't touch my wife, asshole!"

I moved across the lobby to the wall and leaned against it, still trying to look as cool as possible. The men who had been approaching realized the situation wasn't the one they thought and backed away. With Jerry on the floor whimpering like a child, I bent over and whispered into his ear. "You know, I'm going to kill you if you're still in town tomorrow morning." It sounded pretty good even though there was no way I was going to prison for killing a miserable bastard like him.

I wasn't going to let her get away that easily and said in a just loud enough voice to be heard, "What about the birthday party? Have you changed your mind? I came here just to take you there and spend some time with you. Who's your friend, anyway?"

I nudged his hand with my shoe, causing another scream to break the silence that had filled the building.

Nancy turned around and was torn between looking at him and staring at me, her husband. I could see the other women smiling that cold-blooded smile that only women could.

She knelt down next to him and said something. It seemed like she spent an inordinate amount of time on the floor, buying time. 

I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I didn't care. Her reaction was answer enough for me but I was having too much fun with the situation.

"I'm ready to go home, now," she said, looking for Mr. Canton to unlock the door to the parking lot. 

"Take me home," she said sternly as quietly as she could.

There was a chorus of laughter now, not directed at me but at Nancy. For a split second, I wondered if I had taken it too far but then just said, "Fuck it."

By this time, Canton had unlocked the door and Nancy had fled into the relative quiet of the parking lot. There was my Chevy and she made a bee-line for it, waiting for me to unlock it, tapping her foot like a woodpecker attacking a tree and striking an attitude. I couldn't believe that she was still acting as if everything was my fault. Whatever happened to the girl that showed up occasionally to love me?

After I unlocked the door, she slid in as fast as she could and when I started to close it, she grabbed the handle and pulled it hard enough that it slammed. 

Damn! I've told her not to do that so many times it had become a nervous mantra with me. I so wanted to hit her at that point and amazed myself. I was angrier that she continually disrespected my old car than I was knowing she either had or would try to cheat on me with Jerry... someone I planned on destroying whether he left town or not. For a moment, I could see both of them lying side by side out in the Mojave... or weighted and dropped over the side from a small boat in the San Pedro Channel. A couple dozen other scenarios played out in my mind before I put the key into the ignition and started the car, it's V-8 rumbling in the quiet night.

"Not feeling well, again? Is that what happened? Was he taking you home so I could take care of you?" I glanced sideways enough to see her just staring out of the abused side window.

It had reached that time of the evening when there was just a hint of daylight left and the lights were already on. When I was a child, I would squint my eyes and let the lights turn to hazy colors. I thought it was Christmas each time and wondered why there were no gifts when we arrived home.

The disappointment of the lost gifts had never been equaled until these last few days. As much as Santa was dead, so was my love for her. At best, it was in a hospital bed with everyone around crying at the impending demise.

At that moment, I was ready to bring flowers to the gravesite. I still wondered if she had already completed her deed with Jerry and whether it would make any difference.

I knew I had to speak to Nancy about the syphilis she had contracted and passed on to me... I just didn't know how to go about it without a lot of screaming and yelling, mostly on my part.

As a coach, I knew that sometimes a good defense was a good offense and decided to just tell her.

We were sitting in the living room, watching television. That's not true; the television was on but neither she nor I were really watching or even listening to it. I got up and turned it off.

I had brought out a plate of Oreos and we seemed to be more interested in the cookies than in each other.

"Nancy, is there something you really, really want to talk about? I mean, you and me?"

"Nancy, I have to tell you something that you're not going to like very much... I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about, Vince? What have you done?"

I could see that she was getting angry and I hadn't even brought to the forefront what was the matter this time.

"I had to see the doctor the other day." 

I let that hang in the air while I picked up another cookie and popped it into my mouth. The dry cookie halves broke apart and I could feel the coldness of the white filling. The bad thing about eating Oreos is that the dark cookie crumbs coated my mouth and get in between my teeth.

"I went to see the doctor because I didn't know if I had caught VD, somehow." Now, I had her attention and I could see her lips begin to pout.

"What do you mean? What have you been doing? Are you cheating on me?"

"No, I've never been with another woman before or since we've been married. You should know that about me."

It took a moment but the realization of what I had said was now evident as redness soon covered her face.

"Well?" I asked, hoping to get some answer to all my unasked questions.

"Well, what? What do you want, Vince?" She got up from the couch and walked into the bedroom. By the time I got there, she was on the bed, her arm over her eyes. I closed the drapes, plunging the room into darkness and quietly closed the door as I left.

A couple of hours later, I was still sitting on a patio chair in the back yard. There was a knock on the gate and Al walked in.

"Hey," he said. "Now, what's going on?"

"I know and I don't know and I care and I don't care.

"Want a beer?" I gestured toward the cooler. I never drank before and now I was trying to do something. I had no idea, still.

"No, thanks, and you shouldn't either, Vince. You're going to end up a lousy drunk if you keep this up."

The key didn't work. There were new locks on the door and several boxes on the porch. I opened one up and saw my clothes inside.

"You bitch, lock me out of my house, will you?" I spoke angrily.

I went to the garage. She had forgotten all about the padlock and it was still the same one; I opened the door and went to my tool bench. Picking up my sledgehammer, I went back to the front door and broke it open. I had considered just breaking a window but this was so much more satisfying.

The door slammed back into the house and hit the wall, bouncing back slightly.

"Honey, I'm home!"

She was not home but her clothes were. Did she actually think she could lock me out of my own home, bought years ago? I started taking her clothes into the back yard and piling them up. I found several dresses like the red one. A yellow one that I found very arousing had convinced me she was a cheating, lying slut. On to the pile they went.

When I was satisfied with my handiwork, I took the lighter fluid from the grill and sprayed the liquid over the clothes. After flicking a match onto the pile, I went to get the hose. While I was happy with burning everything she owned, I didn't want to lose the house nor have fire department and police show up.

This was better, I thought, to keep it small enough that it wouldn't get out of hand.

Going back into the house and getting a couple of Buds, I popped one open, took a long, cold swallow and sat down to watch the pyre lighting up the yard.

A half-hour later, it was over and I soaked the lawn thoroughly for the next five minutes. Her shoes took longer than I expected, but they, too, succumbed to the blaze.

I went back into the house and out the front door to the garage to get some of the long nails I used on the fence; I nailed the front door shut. 

Eleven o'clock that night, I was awakened by pounding on the front door. 

At first, I didn't know where I was, sleeping on the couch. I refused to return to the bed we had shared. I just knew she had brought her lovers home and into what was once our bed.

I considered just ignoring her screams. I lay there on the couch, listening to the door slightly shake from her two fists.

"Goddamn you, Vince, open the fucking door!"

Now, I was truly amazed at her. Never once during what I considered our marriage had she ever spoken such vulgarities. In a way, it was a fitting end to our relationship.

Sadly, for her, though, her new lover had dropped her off at the curb and left. Jerry took my advice to heart and disappeared. She stood on the porch, staring at the door. After a while, she sat down on the cement step, leaned against the door and cried.

I no longer cared.

A while later, a police car arrived and the two officers walked up to the porch. By then, she was shivering for the night air had chilled considerably.

"What's the problem?" the older of the two asked.

"I can't get in my house. He locked me out."

The officer used his flashlight to light up the door and saw the damage and knocked on the door. "Police! Open the door!"

I knew I had been naïve but I had never considered myself stupid, at least before now. I remembered enough from my high school government class to know that without a search warrant, the two policemen on the porch were going nowhere... fourth amendment, fifth amendment, one of them, anyways.

Still, I thought, it would be interesting to see how it might play out. I got off the couch and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of my back.

I walked over to the front windows and opened one just a crack so we could talk without shouting.

"Hello," I said, casually. "Is there a reason you're on my porch at this hour of the night and who is that woman with you?"

"She says she lives here and that you locked her out. What's the deal?"

"Well... first off, she doesn't live here... I have no idea who she is. I had a wife but she disappeared some time ago and I haven't seen her since. It's too bad; I really loved her with all my heart."

Nancy started crying, again.

An idea came to me.

"Does she have any ID on her?" She had left her purse locked in the Stingray now it was locked in my brother's garage.

The man looked at her and asked if she had any proof she lived there. She sadly shook her head 'no.'

"Wait a minute," said I. "I'll be right back." I went into the back bedroom that was to have been a nursery some day and unlocked my desk. Going through several papers, I found the deed to the house. "I better get this to B of A and into a deposit box," I said to no one.

Taking the paper back to the window, I held it up to the glass and said, "Take a look. There's only one owner of this house and that is me. Now, would you please let me get some sleep and take that woman with you. Or, you can arrest her now for trespassing or something. Look what happened to my door. This is going to cost a lot of money to fix."

"You're going to have to come with us."

She sat in the back of the police car, humiliated; many of our neighbors had come out onto their front lawns to watch.

I found out much, much later what happened after that.

At the station, they gave her the opportunity to make a call but her lover wasn't home. She stood at the pay phone, agitatedly wondering where he was. 

She tried Delores but Bob answered the phone.

"What do you want, Nancy?"

"I'm sorry, Robert. I didn't know who to call. Can you and Delores come down to the police station and let me spend the night with you?"

"What about your husband? Where's Vince?"

"He... he's not available, right now. Please?"

"Well, Nancy, it's like this... Vince called me and told me what's been going on and Delores no longer lives here. I threw her out. She's a lying, cheating whore just like you."

He slammed the phone down and all she could hear was the impersonal dial tone. A single tear formed and slid down her now dirty cheek.

Her parents had left the week before to Yosemite. There was no one left to call.

How could it have gone so wrong, she must have wondered. She had a plan. It was working. It should have worked... after all, she had a plan.

The next morning, she tried again and Don finally answered the phone. A while later, after eating an egg and some bacon she showered in his apartment. 

"What happened? You told me everything was fine."

"I don't know... somehow, he found out. It must have been when the car was... shit, he took the car! Damn it!

"Now, what? And, where were you, last night?"

"I was at a friend's house; you know him, at Mike's. We had a poker party. I'm not your dumb ass husband," he said. "Unless we're exclusive, don't act this way."




Night Deposit Ch. 02



"I'm sorry, I'm just upset," she backtracked, not wanting to burn the last bridge behind her. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, she should tell Don they're exclusive... at least, until something better comes along.

I looked at my front door. My anger last night had destroyed it and the whole thing needed to be replaced. I walked back into the kitchen and set my coffee cup down. I hated coffee.

"Hello, Steve? Vince... I need a new front door at my house... yeah, it's pretty much gone... this afternoon? OK, great... I'll be here. Thanks."

"Here, put these on..." Don handed her a pair of slacks and a belt and looked for a shirt she could wear. 

"Why can't you take me?"

"Wouldn't look right, you know that. Unless you can convince him to take you back, we're going to have to wait until your divorce is final. Hebsit at the bank isn't going to like this if it gets out. You know he's all about appearances. 

"C'mon, let's go see what Vince wants to do with you. If he asks how you got home, just tell him a friend from work came and got you from the police station.

"If he's as dumb as I think he is, he might just want you back. After all, you are crazy in bed."

"Don, you know I've never done those things with him."

"His loss. Whatever... I'll bet he takes you back, anyway. He doesn't want the publicity... He's a very respected man around here." Don smirked. 'Respected by everyone except his wife and her lovers...'

The ride back to the house seemed to take forever, she was so nervous.

"You want me to come up with you?"

"No... there's no telling what he might do if he saw you. I'll go." She walked up to the front porch and looked into the house. There was no sign of me but she knew I had to be home, the front door was still nailed shut.

"Vince? Vince, honey? It's me. Please, let me in. We need to talk about it, Vince. Please?"

I sat up on the couch, startling her. 

"Vince, please let me in. I've learned my lesson, last night. I swear. I'm sorry. Vince?"

She put her hands up to her face so she could see inside the house. "Vince, if you're not going to let me talk, at least let me get my clothes."

"Clothes? What clothes?"

"Vince, where's my clothes? C'mon, Vince, stop playing around. Where's my clothes?"

"Where's my money?"

"Oh..." was all she could say. That I knew was enough to tell her it was over; there was no chance of fixing it until she wanted to move on.

I could almost understand the cheating... I wasn't there Friday nights but it was only ten to fourteen nights out of the entire year. But, that's not right; I was there every other night of the week and before she came home, waiting with her dinner.

Alisa had given me the name of her own divorce attorney and I made the call to her. I expected to get an answering service but her secretary answered the phone.

Mentioning Alisa, I asked for the quickest possible appointment. 

"Would you be able to come within the hour? If so, I can get you in today. Would that work for you?"

"Yes, very much, thank you..."

"You're going to kick her out, aren't you?" Alisa asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Damn shame, I still love her." I was pretty close to crying and looked out the window as I drove to the law office.

I arrived much sooner than I would have wanted and had to wipe my face before entering the building.

With a great deal of trepidation, I entered her office on the fifth floor. 

"Mr. Vince Chamin? She's expecting you. You're the last appointment for the day."

I walked into the back office and met a very attractive woman in her mid-fifties. Alisa told me that her lawyer only represented women so this was a change, to say the least.

"Mr. Chamin, please sit down. Let's see what I can do for you. Alisa called after you left her office and told me to help you so I'm going to make room for you on my calendar."

I briefly outlined what had actually happened, my suspicions about what may have happened and my fear and sadness for the future. At that one moment, I was glad I wasn't a father.

No one in my family had ever divorced. Oh, there had been some pretty incredible fights over the years with some of my cousins and their husbands and wives but it had always worked been worked out before it became toxic.

I decided that when everything was over, one way or the other, I was going to sell the apartments and use the money to actually enjoy life for a change and get the hell out of Los Angeles. 

On the ride back to what had been a happy home, or so I thought, I thought back to the day I had met her at her aunt's house. It was a Saturday morning...

A year before that, her aunt told me that she would be coming for vacation the next year and if I was still unattached, I might be interested in showing her a good time in Los Angeles.

I made some inane comment that seemed to please her. What I actually said, I don't remember and forgot all about it.

The following year, she phoned and said that her niece had arrived and was looking forward to meeting me. It all came rushing back and I realized I had 'niced' myself into a corner.

How bad could it be? I asked myself. So, I made a date to come over the following afternoon and meet her.

And I did and fell in love. She was smart and she was funny and she was so beautiful, I couldn't understand why she was still single or interested in meeting me. 

I'm a nice looking guy but no movie star... of course, today, the movie stars aren't movie stars.

I shyly asked her if she'd like to go to dinner and she accepted. It was a done deal before I even had arrived. 

We were married a month later.

I unlocked the door to the suite and followed her in. Wedding night jitters danced around the back of my head. Would I be able to satisfy her enough? That night had to be the most special night of her life. It certainly was for me.

She smiled and one tantalizing button at a time, she took off her wedding dress. 

Then, her tone changed but I hardly noticed, caught up in the belief that all my fantasies were coming true. "Go, take a shower."

A reasonable request, I believed; after all, the reception had been a long celebration and I was a little sweaty. Not as sweaty, I hoped, as I would be later.

Turning on the water to warm, I hastily disrobed in the bathroom, leaving the tux on the floor. After shaving again, I went into the shower and scrubbed myself down... down to my toes.

The excitement of the moment had aroused me sufficiently that I was hard and ready. I only hoped that I wouldn't do anything wrong that first night with my bride.

It would be crude to just walk out with my erection pointing at her; I wrapped a towel around my waist and went back into the bedroom.

The covers had been drawn back and she was there, naked, legs closed. 

I wondered why she had not taken a shower herself. She had danced just as hard as I had and we had been inseparable at the party.

However, there she was, just staring at me, now. I wanted to say something romantic and had thought about it all week, finding just the right words to express my happiness and love.

Just as I was going to speak, she looked at me and with half-closed eyes, said, "Get it over with."

Not quite the welcome I had been expecting, not at all. I left on the nightstand light, something to see by. She was the first naked woman I had ever seen outside of a film years earlier and a few Playboys my friends had given me in high school. I had just been too busy working on my science degrees and work.

"Will you hurry up? I'm tired and want to go to sleep."

Moving onto the bed, I quickly was kneeling beside her, just inches away from what I had dreamed about so long. I went to kiss her but she turned her head. 

"Look, it's late. If you want to do it now, just do it... or, you can wait 'till tomorrow."

I gently moved her legs apart, got in between and touched her with it and pushed. It refused to go in no matter what I tried. I was so damn naïve and uninformed it was pathetic. I felt that rush that came whenever I thought about this night and tried to hold it back. Unfortunately, I couldn't and was amazed at how far it sprayed across her body and even onto the pillows.

That first great moment was lost forever and nothing would ever bring it back. It was too much for me. She rolled over away from me and said nothing.

The middle of the bed was quite damp and we both moved to each edge to avoid it and what happened. For her, there was nothing. For me, an embarrassment that would follow me to the day I died and probably after that.

What had caused her to change so quickly? At the reception, she had said she couldn't wait to get to the hotel and kissed me over and over. I was confused. Something happened, I just didn't know what.

Maybe, she was frightened about losing her virginity.

The next morning, she was once again the girl I recognized as she gave me a deep and probing kiss.

Admittedly, I felt miserable, my failure the night before weighing heavily on my mind.

What must she think of me, unable to accomplish the simplest of husbandly duties? I felt ill and spent a long time staring out the room's eighteenth floor windows as she took her shower.

For a moment, the thought crossed my mind to join her under the falling water, perhaps, if not to consummate there what should have been done the night before, then to at least arouse her enough to bring her back to the bed and make love like I had hoped. 

However, as I held the doorknob in my hand, I discovered it was locked and the sound of the shower made it obvious she wasn't going to open it any time soon.

I returned to my chair, feeling worthless as a man as tears finally began to fall down my cheeks. I wasn't a wimp but this was new country for me and I didn't have a map.

I still didn't know what had happened to change her personality so drastically last night from the smiling, happy bride she had been just an hour earlier at the reception.

Was it all a sham? Was it possible she just married me so she could leave her parents and stay in Los Angeles? Who could I talk to without feeling worse? Oh, what a mistake I had made and for the first time in my life, I truly wished I was dead.

Eventually, the door opened and she emerged fully dressed, wearing the tight pair of jeans I had bought her Thursday before the wedding and a light blue blouse.

She was beautiful. Maybe, she was just afraid, as much as I had been nervous, myself.

She kissed me. "Breakfast?"

I took her hand and looked her in the face, searching for some clue but found none. "Sure," I said, quietly, "let's go."

The elevator took us from the eighteenth floor down to the lobby floor and we walked to the restaurant hand in hand. We were quickly seated in the nearly deserted café.

It was eight in the morning and the maitre de' was surprised to see us. He had met me a few weeks earlier and again at the reception. I could tell he thought it strange that a young couple would be out of bed so early, especially the morning after the wedding.

It just seemed strange. Sitting there, she was attentive to me. I had an uncomfortable look on my face. It just seemed so strange.

We got up and went to the new Sunday buffet. She stood closely to me, her body pressed against me the whole time. It aroused me.

Following breakfast, we returned to the room. 

I looked anxiously at the bed, still unmade, but she was already packing her suitcase to leave.

"If we leave now," she said, "we can get to San Diego before lunch."

"Fuck it," I wanted to say but kept it to myself. Not a good way to start off a marriage, I thought to myself.

A half-hour later, we were heading south on the freeway. Usually too talkative, I said nothing, concentrating on my driving, keeping my feelings under control.

What should have been a wonderful evening quickly had become a fiasco. Maybe, in San Diego she would be more comfortable. Maybe the entire day, the wedding, the reception, the whole idea of having sex for the first time, maybe it was too overwhelming and she just panicked.

I glanced over at her. She was looking out the window at the Goodyear blimp rising above us. I took my right hand off the wheel and reached for hers. She smiled, interlacing her fingers with mine.

No mention was made of the night before. I was willing to pretend it never happened if she was. Hopefully, this night would be better.

A little after eleven, we reached San Diego and checked in. Not as luxurious as the Marriott, the motel was still very nice and the room opened out onto the ground floor.

She unpacked, hanging the clothes but keeping everything else in the two suitcases.

"You never know," she remarked, happily, "what's been in these drawers and if they've ever been cleaned."

I appreciated her concern and realized I had never thought about that before. On the other hand, the only other time I was in a motel was 15 years earlier traveling with the family to San Francisco.

After dropping Mandy back at the apartments, I drove over to Woolworth's Five and Dime. I wanted to buy a kite. Life had told me to 'go fly a kite' long enough I figured I might as well do it.

I walked around a little in the store, looked at the goldfish swimming around with their mouths gaping open and closed and even bought a couple books: Action Comics #309 which amazingly enough, had the assassinated president in the story, Superman and my personal favorite, Rip Hunter, Time Master #19 where they meet Cleopatra. Nice silly reading at twelve cents each...

As it turned out, it was my last visit to my football field. As much as I loved working with the boys and the thrill of the game, it seems that my absence of just one night a week had been enough to thoroughly disrupt my marriage. I knew, though, that the problems I had with Nancy had nothing to do with my coaching, but it was just going to be too big a distraction. 

I parked on the track and wasted over half an hour trying to fly the stupid box kite. Frustrated, I threw it down on the grass and walked away.

The wind actually picked it up and away it went.

I jumped and hollered like a little kid as the kite's tug captured my attention. Higher and higher it went until the string broke and it disappeared an easy quarter mile away.

Holding the limp string in my hand, I sat down on the grass and cried like the lovesick fool that I was. I loved my wife and honestly didn't know what to do... Catholics didn't get divorced in the 60s... separated, maybe, but divorced? No. How many people stayed in loveless marriages is impossible to know, but advice... no, almost a command from God himself, delivered by someone who had never been married and had left his family when he was fourteen years old, was as useless as the penis he supposedly still had.

For some reason, I wanted to have lunch with Mary. Only she and I knew the whole story about Nancy and the problems we were having. She unwittingly became the third person of the trinity.

I still had my key to the 'Vette and left a note inviting her to lunch at Anthony's. I stupidly thought she might be tired of Mexican.

I had failed to listen to my own counsel. Lunch with Mary was a disaster from the moment we walked into the restaurant with all the stares we received. Damn it! We should have gone to the Mexican place where we seemed to be accepted.

We left without ordering.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I wasn't thinking." El Segundo was and still is as white as any town could be.

"That's all right, Vince. I'm just going to go home now. Thank you for trying." She left me there, standing on the corner all alone, again.

I had to believe that I was a total idiot around women.

I parked in front of St. Joseph's Catholic Church and walked across the street to Chip's for a burger and a drink. I watched some poor kid trying to bus the tables and he seemed to do everything wrong. I couldn't laugh, though. It seemed that both he and I were trying to do something we didn't know a damn thing about. When I was finished, I washed up and went to the apartments I had in Inglewood near Sears. 

I wandered around the building, just looking to kill some time until I could pick up Nancy and got 'caught' by Mrs. Snyder.

She was a very lovely but lonely woman, about ten years older than I was but still only about 40 years old and a survivor of the camps. She always wore a scarf over her head and I had eventually figured out that she was very, very orthodox. She had no family left so when I came around, she immediately 'adopted' me to fill some of that emptiness. It was good and it was bad.

If I was single, I would have pursued her eagerly but I wasn't and I never cheated on my wife. As soon as I had that thought, however, I wondered what had made me invite Mary to lunch a second time.

Besides, what would an orthodox Jewish woman want with a Catholic Italian-American, anyway?

That day, I understood how she felt and it was good to have her to talk to me. I really just wanted some companionship. My head was so messed up.

We talked about her life in Germany before the War. We never ever spoke about the camps or the loss of her family. Over the years, I discovered by chance that she had three small children that were sacrificed to the Nazi god, Hitler. 

I had those few hours to kill; she made some chocolate raisin cookies, and we talked about everything except what was making each of us miserable.

That had been the longest I had ever spoken with her and I was impressed how knowledgeable she was on so many different things.

I finally had to leave and to my surprise, she invited me back whenever I wanted. The invitation seemed more personal than a chance meeting with the landlord. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, there was a chance... ah, who was I kidding?

I let that thought hang in the air while I drove back to Hawthorne. 

What the hell was I doing? Had Nancy's perceived infidelity pushed me subconsciously to seek out other women? Now, I had four women on my mind and I didn't have a clue about what to do with any of them.

They all knew I was married, including my wife who seemed to forget it recently. What the hell was I doing?

After all that happened, I avoided Mandy as best I could. I knew that another man would have taken advantage of the situation and it was glaringly obvious that Mandy wasn't a sweet, young, innocent virgin. 

For a while, I depended on Mary letting me know if there was something that needed my attention at the beach apartments while I spent my time at the other two buildings.

Because of that, I was seeing Esther on Tuesdays and Thursdays starting the late morning and Mary on Wednesdays and Fridays sometime during the afternoon or evening. 

Esther and I had become very comfortable with each other; we were kissing when I arrived and when I left. I began to learn phrases in Yiddish. We would go to the Fairfax District to shop and have lunch.

Canter's was a very strange bakery-restaurant for an Italian Catholic to be in. Esther would order in rapid Yiddish and things would arrive that I had no idea what they were but I ate them, anyway.

Afterwards, we would walk hand in hand around Farmers' Market and then over to the Tar Pits to watch the bubbles burst in slow motion.

I don't remember when we started holding hands but I never wanted to let go.

Mary and I would go out dancing in clubs that were safe for a mixed couple, as it was known then. We took the white ship to Catalina and spent the night there, the first night of many.

I found myself overwhelmed with what was happening in my life... and didn't know what to do. Why was I so damned confused?

And, then, I realized that I had given my heart and soul to Nancy and while we were together I did everything humanly possible to make her feel happy and loved... and was reticent to do it again.




Night Deposit Ch. 02



My Mary, yes, I thought of her that way, was almost the opposite of my Esther in so many different ways. She was tall, taller than I was and slim while my Jewish Princess was a little shorter and rounder.

Mary was light and bright and energetic; Esther was serious and took everything under consideration before doing it. So her decision to sleep with me could only have come after thinking carefully about it, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

That day, she asked me to take her to the Jewish cemetery in Culver City and escort her to a bench there.

"I come here, once in a while, to remember my family," she began, simply enough, and then proceeded to finally tell me everything that had happened when the Nazis came.

She was sobbing when she was finished late that afternoon. As I held her in my arms, I truly and completely fell in love with her.

Still crying, she said she would never have another child; her age and the memory of her children had scarred her enough. She was 23 when the Americans liberated the camp. She weighed less than 95 pounds and only the inner strength and American medical care saved her.

For years, she quietly told me, she wished that she had indeed died.

I couldn't marry both of them.

Why Esther and not Mary? I didn't know for sure... I loved them both. I deeply and truly loved the both. Maybe it was the unfathomable need Esther had for me to fill that emptiness that had followed her for twenty years. Somehow, I felt that Mary would find someone to love as much as I did for her very own... something that would never happen for Esther.

I wasn't sure how Mary would accept the news. By that time, both women knew of the other and had become very close friends, almost sisters in their care for one another... and for me.

"Vince, I'm so glad for you and Esther." I somehow felt she knew ahead of time.

I could see she was crying and I hugged her closely to me. In all that time, we had never actually slept together. It just never seemed to have the right feeling necessary to make love and neither of us wanted sex without a deeper love than I thought we had. I loved her and she knew it and she loved me just as much, just not enough to be 'in love,' or, so I thought.

We began having 'family' events, the three of us.

One day, I came home and Esther no longer wore her scarf. I decided to say nothing, knowing she would tell me in her own way and time.

And, she did... an orthodox rabbi would never marry us and she refused to live without it, no matter how much we loved one another. She had been visiting a conservative rabbi, one who was more inclined to talk with us about marriage.

In Jewish law, an engagement is a contract between a man and a woman where they mutually promise to marry each other at some future time and the terms on which it would take place.

Given Esther's situation, the rabbi was most considerate of her wishes and he proceeded to explain to me the customs of a Jewish wedding.

The date of the wedding had to avoid certain religious holidays and for some reason, both Esther and the rabbi were looking a date only a week away. That was fine by me since I wanted to marry her with all my heart.

Many of the traditions were going to be eliminated. There was going to be no dancing, but the wedding dinner was definitely Kosher. As an Ashkenazi Jew, Esther prepared a dinner for our small party of roasted chicken with potatoes and vegetables.

Mary was Esther's maid of honor at the ceremony. She wore a conservative dress in respect to the ceremony.

It was a very quiet, private affair. Esther had no one there except Mary and I only had a few friends close enough to invite.

Her wedding ring was plain, solid gold. At the appropriate time, I placed it on her right index finger, saying with all my heart, "Behold, thou art consecrated to me with this ring, according to the law of Moses and Israel." The rabbi explained that it had to do with reading the Torah during the ceremony. 

I had met with the rabbi, myself, several times before that day and one of the most interesting things I discovered was that in ancient times, in lieu of a ring, the groom presented to the bride a gold coin.

I went to several coin shops until I found what I was looking for, a beautiful ancient gold coin from Israel. It was over five-hundred dollars but she was Esther and deserved no less.

Rabbi Gottlieb, in his words to us, to me, actually, spoke about how the Talmud almost demands the man love his wife as much, if not more, than he loves himself. There were some other things like the wife was expected to be modest even if the only person there was her husband. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

There was some other stuff about her keeping house and being affectionate.

Esther, for some reason I still don't understand, convinced me to allow Mary to come along on the honeymoon. Mary told me, so much later, that they had planned it all along after they had grown to love and respect one another.

We three flew to Honolulu and had adjoining rooms at the Royal Hawaiian and the connecting door stayed open the whole time we were there.

The war in Asia was rapidly becoming hot and there were thousands of men on their way to Vietnam walking the streets and crowding the hotels and restaurants.

I thought, at the time, Mary would have found one or two to make a foursome for dinner and dancing but she never once considered it. She said that we were the only people she needed in life.

For the two weeks we were there, I indulged both women with whatever they wanted and several things they didn't. We ended up shipping back all the souvenirs, clothes and bathing suits they, well, I, had bought.

At Esther's insistence, Mary moved in with us and made the second bedroom her own. The Corvette came back with her and the two of them would take fast, crazy rides up the coast to Santa Barbara for lunch and Solvang for dinner and cookies.

I wondered what she felt at night when Esther and I were together making love. Esther had become a very vocal lover in the bedroom and seemed to seek release from the demons that still haunted her.

Some nights, she would awaken screaming in German and it took Mary and me several hours to calm her down, holding her gently, until she could sleep again.

As time went by, Esther's nightmares diminished until they seemed to be gone.

I had left the high school and coaching behind after I had found out about Nancy and with the income from the three apartment houses, we were on an almost permanent vacation. They were inseparable and the 'devil' in me was wondering when Esther was going to invite Mary into our bed.

I bought a beautiful Impala convertible, seafrost green with a medium blue interior, and garaged the '57. The three of us would go for rides when the two of them weren't blasting up the coast in that blue rocket. With the car's bench seat, the two 'girls' would take turns sitting in the middle next to me. Even though the car was huge, somehow, each of them would somehow end up pressed against my leg, even occasionally 'accidently' finding their hand resting on my thigh. The first time it happened with Mary, I almost wrecked the car but saw Esther with that enigmatic smile she sometimes had when she and I were 'alone' talking about our golden years to come.

Life was good for the three of us. Life was too good.

Two years, seven months, five days after we said 'I do,' Esther left me.

Esther and I were crossing the street near the pier and we were hit by a car. Esther was killed instantly and I was thrown halfway across the street by the impact.

When I finally woke up in the hospital six days later, Mary was sitting there, waiting. She tried to smile but began crying so hard that she had to be sedated herself. They kept her in the hospital for observation for almost a week; she was so disconsolate.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, my heart was wondering what happened to the women in my life... everyone I loved had somehow left me.

Alisa and Mandy came one day to visit but wouldn't tell me much about the accident, just that everything had been taken care of. They both kissed me on the cheek and left.

Eventually, Mary told me that Esther was dead.

She told me...

As I screamed in anguish, the nurses came running in and Mary slumped back onto her chair. 

She told me...

I couldn't breathe; my heart was trying to beat itself out of my chest.

She told me...

I wanted to die. 

She told me, Oh, God, she told me...

Oh, God, I wanted to die.

My Esther was gone and I never got to say 'goodbye.'

Four months later, I was released and Mary drove me home in a second-hand '65 Chevy Nova. She had sold the 'Vette and the Impala to pay for Esther's burial and my medical bills since she didn't have access to the rent money other than to deposit it into the bank.

Mary attended to my every need until I felt I was taking advantage of her kindness and as much as we loved each other I was sure that she would soon leave, like the others had.

I was sitting in the living room, not watching television, when Mary walked in for the last time.

She handed me an envelope and sat down on the other couch. I stared at it, my mind doing laps around my broken heart. She said nothing but motioned with her head that I should read the letter.

My hands shaking, I started to read and tears began down my face...

My darling, A few months before we were married, I began feeling poorly and Mary took me to see the doctor. He told us I was dying from cancer, pancreatic cancer. There is no cure, no help, no tomorrows. We knew I only had a little time left and together, we decided I would marry you and then Mary would have you after. My love, I made Mary swear that she would not tell you, that I would tell you this way. Why? Why such an impersonal way to tell you, my loving, wonderful Vince? Because I knew it could kill you to know, to watch me become ill and waste away, I planned on taking enough sleeping pills when it became obvious I couldn't hide it from you any longer. I must have done it if you are reading this. Please, forgive me. I did it for you, for us. I don't want your last memory of me to be one of a sick and dying woman; rather, I hope that you will always remember me, the woman you loved and enjoyed the life we had together, however short it might have been. I've taught Mary how to bake those chocolate raisin cookies that you've liked since that first time we were really together. Mary... what can I say about her? She is the most loving person I've ever met besides you. You know those trips Mary and I would take up the coast in her fast car? Yes, I know you gave it to her and I'm not jealous. You gave me the greatest gift you could. You. I bet someone would wonder just what Mary and I were doing, probably actually thinking we were lovers. We were, just not like that. We were making plans to take care of you, my love. Vince, Mary and I want you to marry her when the time comes. She loves you as much as I do, maybe even more to live with us and watch us and hear us make love without leaving. I know you love her, Vince, and that makes me feel so joyful that you will be loved and cared for after I am gone. I can't really express how I feel on paper, the words don't really come. I will always love you, Vince, forever... and now, I don't say goodbye, but more of a 'so long'. I will wait for you both. She is mischpocha. She is a shayner shiksa and you're such a mensch. Mazel tov to both of you. Your loving wife, Esther

My tears I couldn't stop. Esther loved me so much that she and Mary shared the deadly knowledge of her fate and left me to my ignorant bliss.

Her death only served to take away what little time we had left. My only solace was that it was instantaneous and I hoped to God she didn't suffer.

And that evening, Mary left me, for the last time.

Three months later, Mary Belle Lincoln and I were married.

I was shocked when Belle got up and walked to Nancy's table and sat down. I couldn't believe it; they were talking quietly for quite a while and then they both came back to our table.



Night Deposit Ch. 03



Chapter 3

Women and their secrets

copyright @ calibeachgirl

all rights reserved, 2011

I thank everyone who returned for this final chapter. I have put at the end of the story the recipe for Esther's raisin chocolate cookies.

I hope that everyone understands that part of the story is told in flashback as Vince remembers his life with his three wives and the story was bookended with what was the present time in the story.

Chapter 3 - You have to play the cards you are dealt...

I should have been shocked when Belle got up and walked to Nancy's table and sat down but truth be told, I wasn't. They were talking quietly for quite a while so I waved to the waitress and ordered another piece of pie. Whatever Belle was doing, she was doing at her own pace and after all these years, I knew there was nothing I could do about it. It took a strong-willed woman to do what she had done for Esther and me. It took a strong-willed woman to put up with my quirks and stubbornness. It took a strong-willed woman to love me as much, if not more than I loved her.

It took a strong-willed man to survive everything that has happened and somehow find the strength to continue on.

She gave me the respect and worshiped the ground I walked on. We were our own mutual admiration society.

The damn truth of the matter was, though, I'd rather just get the hell up and out of the restaurant as soon as I could... but, I knew I couldn't leave. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen and a small, inaccessible part of me wanted to know what had happened to her all these years.

I had dreaded the day I would ever meet Nancy again. The woman I thought was the love of my life had somehow betrayed me without... without what? Warning? It was all there, if I had been knowledgeable to recognize the signs.

You truly can't see the forest for the trees.

Belle reached out, took Nancy's hand and then they both came back to where I was sitting. I gripped the table edge as best I could to keep from shaking in both anger and... fear? Fear? I had to be kidding myself... not after all these years... it was more a realization of what had been lost that night... the next twenty years without her... the next twenty years without children... the next twenty years without a twenty-fifth anniversary which should have been this year.

The only thing worse in my life was Esther's death.

I remembered the day the divorce was final. I felt as if a huge hand had taken my insides and force fed them back to me. It was a day I had both looked forward to and dreaded. The good times outnumbered the bad ones but the bad ones... it was like trying to compare the Grand Canyon with a small drainage ditch on the side of the road.

Fortunately for me, I had already become close friends with Esther and Mary Belle and they helped me pick up the pieces of my life so well that I loved and married both of them.

"I asked Nancy to join us, Vince. There are a great many things you need to hear about. Please, just listen and don't say anything. I know your stomach must be churning right now and you probably want to kill us both for ambushing you like this but I couldn't see any other way to do this.

"When we're done, you can decide what you want to do."

I said nothing and stared at the two of them. I wanted some water for my dry mouth but my hand had let go of the table edge and was shaking too much.

Belle moved over and Nancy slid in on the booth's bench directly across from me. I tried to look away but couldn't. Deep, deep, deep down, locked in my heart and put away for almost two decades, was my love for her, the girl I first loved, married and would have died for until she killed my soul and my dreams and my trust... but, never my love. That, I just locked away until now... oh, God, what had my Belle done to me?

"Maybe, I should start this, Vince," said Belle, "it would make more sense, that way.

"Four years ago..."

I jerked my head and looked at my wife and my ex-wife and just shook my head in disbelief. Belle and I would have a long, long talk when we got home... maybe, earlier... much earlier.

"Four years ago, Nancy wrote me a letter. She begged for forgiveness but knew that you wouldn't want to see her... so she contacted me.

"About eight years ago, she was diagnosed with Bipolar -- Manic Depression. I went to several doctors to learn about it for myself.

"Vince, she had absolutely no control over anything she did during... well, when she was with you. It had nothing to do with you. It would have happened even if she had been living the life of a hermit. Since then, she's been taking a drug called Lithium. It didn't exist back in the 60s, well, maybe it did but no doctor knew how to treat her condition with it.

"She's not cured. There is no cure. It can only be contained as long as things don't get out too far out of hand.

"She... I... I want us to give her an apartment to live in, Vince. It was devastating what happened, both before and after and I don't think we can ever forget that but I've found it in my heart to forgive her and I'd like you, too.

"I know I've had four years to reach this point and you're still at day one but, please trust me on this. I know what I'm talking about. If not for her, do it for me. You'll see; it will turn out all right."

I didn't know what to say, I really didn't. I had always tried my best to keep the women I loved deliriously happy. It didn't work out so well with Nancy but how could I compete with a mental illness. In truth, the only thing I recognized was the 'depressive' part and figured the rest was just as bad, if not worse.

Both Esther and Belle had planned out the rest of my life after that and the next twenty years were filled with love and joy and loss.

I grudgingly allow Nancy to move into the second bedroom. I sent the maintenance guys over to her rundown apartment to get the few things she still had until an apartment would open up for her in one of my buildings.

It should have been no surprise to me that the two of them had become friends... close friends. Indeed, my wife and my ex-wife had had four years to become reacquainted while I was still at day one, wondering just what the hell had just happened. Every time I saw her or heard her voice, it was another pinprick into my soul and I prayed to God it wasn't going to be the death of my marriage to Belle.

I sat, pretending to read the latest Analog. Over the years, I learned to enjoy science fiction... at least, good... well, somewhat readable science fiction. Some months were better than others and some months were just trash.

In the spring of 1977, Belle and I had gone to the Airport Marriott for an SF convention. While the featured film was Logan's Run and they had people run around with the movie's guns shooting each other, however, the twenty minute Star Wars presentation brought down the house. People were jumping up and down screaming... no, demanding to see it again.

We met Mark Hamill and spoke to him for quite a while. After the movie opened, of course, he became untouchable and his invitation to have lunch sometime became forgotten.

Belle and I went to Grauman's Chinese to see it.

That summer, we saw it at least ten times. The last time was August 16th and when we got in the car to drive home, the DJ said Elvis was dead. For some crazy reason, we started laughing. I don't know, it was just that he made it sound like the end of the world.

It's funny what strange things you remember at the oddest times.

I leaned back in my recliner, occasionally glancing at Nancy. She and Belle were talking quietly and eating some raisin chocolate cookies from the recipe from Esther. 

It was a scene out of the Twilight Zone. Three wives, one a ghost, all crowded into the living room with me.

I remembered, oh, how I remembered, resting there, that unbelievable day with Esther...

It started out like any other incredibly beautiful Southern California day. The hot sun was beginning to peek out on the eastern horizon and I woke pressed against Esther's back, my arm protectively around her waist.

I nuzzled her neck just behind her ear and she stirred in her sleep as I inhaled her scent. I was aroused by her closeness... and I knew I had to intimately touch her, to feel the smooth softness of her skin, to kiss her black hair now streaked with silver.

"mmmhmphhh," she moaned, shifting in the bed as her body started to respond to my touch. Lately, Esther had been going to bed earlier and earlier, begging off, saying she was just a little tired and not to worry about it. 

During the night, I could feel her move around under the covers and I had thought she was just trying to get comfortable but once in a while, in the dim light I glimpsed a look of pain on her face as she tossed and turned without waking.

She was approaching her forty-fifth birthday and I foolishly thought she was just reacting to getting older and with menopause and all. Oh, foolish me, I was so stupidly in the dark about what was happening and neither woman told me what I so desperately needed to know.

She woke with a start, her abrupt jerk shaking the bed, but my hand gently reassured her somehow and she drifted back into a fitful sleep.

I looked at the nightstand clock. It was only six-eighteen... too late to sleep again, too early to get up.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. I didn't want to leave my wife's warmth, either physically or emotionally. I was madly in love with this older woman and I felt wonderful, more so than with all my tempestuous time with Nancy.

Where she saw lines and slight sags and grey hair, I saw life and love and happiness.

She woke again, this time taking my hand and placing it on her left breast. I could feel her excitement as her nipple hardened under my fingers and she began to move back against me. I felt her leg lift just enough and I slipped inside, gently pushing deeper until I was completely in, my body tight against hers. Quietly, deliberately, she started moving again, tightly holding me in as her slick warmth enveloped me with a desperation that I didn't understand until after her letter was given to me by Belle.

Her movements continued, until finally I felt her tingle, then shake over and over like a 6.0 California earthquake.

"Thank you," she whispered, "thank you, my love."

I found out much later Esther had not been feeling well those last few weeks and seemed to be losing weight. At the time, I had commented on that, telling her that she was more than beautiful just the way she was didn't need to diet for me. She turned several shades of red. She gave me a shy wistful smile and seemed to search my face, touch my face as if she wanted to know it to its fullest, to remember it forever.

Later that morning, she had an upset stomach that didn't seem to leave her until we left for lunch. I had a great surprise for her and wanted it to be as romantic as possible.

The Warehouse in Marina del Rey was a restaurant that had just enough light to see comfortably but dark enough for privacy and their tables were all inset into large cubbyholes. 

One of my manuscripts on coaching had been accepted for publishing and they had sent a check against royalties for five thousand dollars. I was going to take her to Jerusalem, something she had wanted to do since the liberation of the camps. 

We ate as I excitedly told her what I would like to happen, I could see a sad and pensive look in her eyes, as though she was thinking of something somehow lost and seemed preoccupied with something, just a sad yearning that I didn't understand until so much later and it broke my heart all over again whenever I remember that afternoon.

"Honey, what's the problem? You look out of it, somehow." I put down my fork and waited for an answer, running my fingers across the table cloth. She used to say I did things like that whenever I was worried.

"Huh? Oh, Vince, you're funny, there's nothing wrong. I was just thinking of something, that's all..." Her voice dropped off to a whisper and she looked down at her hands in her lap.

I could tell that it wasn't 'that's all.'

I had taken some of the money and bought her a pearl necklace. I put it on her; she was speechless. It either broke apart in the street or somehow disappeared somewhere on the way to the hospital.

I had my arm around my love as we crossed the street, together for one last time.

Eventually, I had enough watching the two of them together and saying goodnight, I reached for my cane and went to bed even though it was only nine o'clock.

Here I was, almost 50 years old and my life was once again upside down, all caused by the women in my life.

Over the next couple of weeks, what started as a guarded politeness eventually became something closer to normal. I was polite but tried to limit my contact with Nancy. Honestly, it had galled me how easily the two of them got along.

I learned all I could about Nancy's situation. This 'bi-polar' she had was an unbelievably serious condition. Unknown and untreated, it had destroyed our marriage.

I made an appointment to see Dr. Deanna Hemphill, a psychologist, initially to learn about my ex-wife's condition but I kept seeing her for my own state of mind.

She was surprised when I told her everything about Nancy. She said that marriages with bi-polar people usually last only a year or two, the spouses finally giving up.

We can say 'ex-wife' all we want but there still remains that memory, real or imagined, of what good times there were and there were good times.

Finally, I came to realize there was nothing she could have done but what she did. Promiscuity was, and still is, I guess, the major symptom for bi-polar women. During those manic periods, Nancy was out of control like a crashing airplane.

Dr. Hemphill and I sadly determined that my ex-wife was probably sleeping around from the beginning.

I was crying at the end of that session and when Belle started to drive us home, I told her I wanted to go to the Redondo pier, instead.

I wanted to get my thoughts together before having to face my ex-wife. I stood at the railing, leaning against it, for quite a long-time, thinking back to my marriage with Nancy... the good times and the bad times.

The good times did outnumber the bad times, but that one very bad time outweighed everything else at the time.

We had a quiet dinner at Tony's and I spent a good amount of time just watching the waves roll in. I had the cod and Belle had the halibut. I had fries and she had the baked potato. I had iced tea and she had coffee. We both were going to be up for hours later than we should.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" I asked back.

"Do you understand, now?" She had folded her hands on the table. I knew what that meant: she wanted a serious discussion whether I did or not... but, she was right, now was the time to talk about it and I knew it... it was why I wanted to go out to dinner.

I looked at my wife, her dark complexion lit up by the setting sun. I looked into her dark eyes delving into my soul.

I said nothing for a great while and stalled for time, buttering my sourdough roll.

"Why?" I finally asked.

"If she had the flu... if she had, God forbid, cancer..."

At the mention of cancer, Belle immediately knew she had said the wrong damn thing.

She continued on, though. "Well, would you blame her? Would you hate her?"

It was a hard question, straight to the matter. I put my hand down on my right leg, trying to soothe the burning that had been with me ever since I left the hospital and its drugs.

"Of course, not." I said and fell into the logical trap my loving wife had carefully laid for me. After all these years, she knew everything about me and how I would react to stressful situations... like this one... just as I could read her like an open book.

"It's the same thing, Vince," she continued, determined to make me see her position.

"No, it's not... and you know it. You know how she was, is... whatever..." I was starting to get angry but Belle wouldn't stop.

That same perseverance is what kept her with Esther and me, quietly waiting for her time to be my wife. Sometimes, I wondered what would have happened if I had decided not to marry again.

"Yes, I do know it's not the same but I truly understand her, now... and you should, too."

"Belle..."

"Don't you 'Belle' me, Vince."

"Look, Belle, even if I understand...

"How can I forget?"

"I don't know, baby, I don't know... maybe, never... but, you've got to try to forgive. If not for her... then, for us, Vince.

I think she's been hurt enough, don't you?" She gave me that serious look she did when she didn't want 'no' for an answer... and I looked back with the 'I don't care' face I had for situations like that.

"Belle, I never once... well, that one time with the police and burning her clothes... 

"No, I don't want to hurt her... and, I don't want her to hurt. I... look, darling, it's been twenty years. Whatever love I have for her is based on those good times we had... but, it's in the past, the distant past." She could see I was lying and not doing it very well. I never could lie to these women in my life.

"After talking with Dr. Hemphill, I don't hate her anymore. I hated her, then, I really did... but, I never hurt her as much as I wanted to kill her and every man she slept with."

I could see Belle's logic but it didn't help me that much. It still didn't answer what Belle wanted with Nancy after all this time.

Or, what the two of them wanted with me.

I took her hand in mine. "Sweetheart, suppose that we do get her an apartment in one of the buildings. Then what? I mean, what's your final goal?

Is this something like you and Esther dreamed up? Are you sick? I can't live through time another like that. I'd rather die."

"Oh, God, no, Vince, she rapidly said. "Oh, God, no. 

When Nancy contacted me four years ago, I was just as shocked as you are now. She asked me to meet her at her doctor's office, a psychiatrist named Alexa Green.

Dr. Green explained everything to me. It was hard, Vince, for me to sit there and listen but I did. I began attending Nancy's sessions with her doctor and all three of us struggled through each week. There were normal times with her and there were horrible times and the doctor would calm her down and find out that her everlasting despair is how you were hurt and she's wanted to do anything possible to have you forgive her for something she couldn't help.

"Vince, honey, what if it had been you? Would you like to go through what's left of your life alone and miserable?"

At some point in our long and heartbreaking talk, I began to change my mind about having Nancy with us.

"OK," I finally said.

"OK, what?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing, I supposed... that I would capitulate so quickly... but the truth of the matter was that I had thinking about Nancy every day since she came home with us.

My mind journeyed back to that last month we were together. I remembered her little smile as she walked in the door to the dinner I had cooked for her...

...and then, I lost my composure thinking about it. Was she smiling because she had just been fucked by one of them men she met at work? Damn it!

I slammed my fist down on the table, rattling everything on it.

This was going to be SO much harder than I had thought or hoped. 

I considered throwing the whole thing out right then and there and telling Belle that Nancy had to leave, the sooner the better... like yesterday.

I could see the fear on Belle's face as she recognized the anger in me and although I kept quiet, inside I was seething as the anger resurfaced once again.

I realized people were looking at us. For what I had done, not for whom we were. That had gone away years ago and a white man with a black woman wasn't the surprise it had been twenty years ago.




Night Deposit Ch. 03



"Belle, please take me home."

I looked at the dinner check, pulled out some money to cover it and stood up, leaning heavily on my cane. I was so tired with everything.

My right leg had been bothering me even more, lately. The accident that killed Esther and threw me across the street to collapse on the asphalt had severely damaged my spine. Every bone in my back had been fractured and the worse damage was in my lower back, leaving me in a constant pain that left me exhausted.

Belle put her arm around my waist and helped me down the stairs. I hated stairs. We slowly walked through the parking structure and found the car.

"Are you OK, Vince? I don't want to hurt you, baby, and I don't want to keep Nancy wondering what's going to happen. If you can't do it, that's fine, I'll understand and so will she."

By the time we left Hermosa, I told her I would go along with it, even if it killed me to see her everyday while she was still in our apartment. I told her I would do it for her... as long as I could.

"Would you like to go to one of her sessions? She asked me to tell you, that is, if you want to."

I was sick of seeing doctors. Even now, I still had to see a pain specialist and a neurologist because of my spinal damage; while Dr. Hemphill had done her best with me and I could face the situation, I knew it was still going to be strange at the very least and heartbreaking at the worst.

By the time we got home, it was dark. I noticed a few light bulbs that needed changing and hoped I remembered long enough to write it down when we got inside.

That was another problem: my short term memory wasn't worth a damn thing, anymore. I had cracked my skull on the cement curb and had a concussion so bad it had kept me in a coma for almost a week.

I had grown my hair longer to cover the scars but now, I was starting to thin out and the scars were coming back, staring at me every morning when I shaved.

As time went by, my attitude and perception of Nancy slowly changed for the better. Her medication had returned to me the woman I once loved with my whole being, the woman I was once willing to die for, to cherish forever and the three of us now met weekly with her psychiatrist.

I still met with my psychologist and for a while, I thought I was going to spend all my time with one doctor or another, just as I did when I first left the hospital.

I realized that I would have died for her, if need be, just as I would have for Esther and Belle. I just couldn't live with her then.

My love for her never really left, it had been only overshadowed by my grief and anger for what had happened to us. 

That was what Belle had in mind when she convinced me to have Nancy live with us. It seems she was talking to my psychologist herself, before ever approaching me with the idea... it's amazing the secrets women have. 

There are those that speak of closure but for most of us, it never occurs. There can be no closure when someone we love is suddenly taken away from us and not a day goes by that I don't think of my Esther.

The grief remains. Sometimes it lies dormant for a while and then surfaces at the oddest times, memories brought back by some subtle prompt that only your heart and soul would recognize.

The pain from what I considered the emotional death of Nancy and our marriage to the very real and tragic death of Esther remains with me for the rest of my life, however long that may be, to the end of time.

Esther's wedding picture hangs on the living room wall, put there by Belle. At first, I was uncomfortable with it, especially after we married but Belle, to her everlasting credit, said that Esther had been so much a loving part of both of our lives, there was no way she couldn't not have it there.

Many a night, Nancy would suddenly rise from the couch and go to her room and we could her softly crying. I knew Belle expected me to do something, to comfort my former wife some way, but what could I do that wouldn't somehow lead to a renewed romance... if not from my side, possibly from hers.

I woke to the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen and the quiet clatter of silverware being laid out on the table. Belle had already left the bed so I lay there alone for a while, wondering why she had left me by myself. She knew I liked it in the morning.

Due to my spinal pain which comes and goes and then comes back with a vengeance, I would stay up half the night and then usually sleep in past eight in the morning. I looked at the nightstand clock... seven. Jesus Christ, who was cooking that early?

Putting on a robe, I walked toward the kitchen and heard the two of them talking about me. I stopped and listened. I don't usually eavesdrop on people but...

The sound of Nancy's voice came to me. "...could if he agrees. What do you think?"

"He'd probably like that. I bet he thinks about it every once in a while; but he never seems to do anything to make it happen."

What the hell were they talking about?

"I can never thank you enough, Belle, for somehow convincing him to let me stay here. I can never repay you for that, let alone him... I was so afraid he never wanted to see me again."

"That is true. He didn't. All these years, wasted for you. That's such a shame because now, he can see who you really, really are."

There was a pause. "Are you sure he doesn't still hate me? He seems so... so distant when he's around me."

"Nancy, if he didn't love you so much, his sorrow would have disappeared long ago.

"Don't you realize that you're always going to be his first love? You'd be here, with him and your children if God hadn't played such a cruel joke on all of us."

Well, I thought, that was an interesting comment by my Belle. 

She continued. "I honestly don't know what to tell you. Vince is a very emotional man. He loves fully, with his whole being... and the reverse is true. He never was half-way with people. He either liked you or he didn't and he wasn't afraid to tell you why.

"With you, though, it's different. I've seen how he is when you're in the room with us. He's remembering the good times and it's hard on him but I want... no, I need the two of you to regain that love you had for one another... trust... that's going to take a long time."

My own skepticism was quickly mirrored by Nancy.

"But, why? You've been so nice to me and I treated you so poorly back then... and what I did with Vince... my God, it terrifies me to even think about it and it was twenty years ago."

"Listen," Belle said, "you were such an important part of his life; what happened shaped the rest of his life, Esther's life, my life, your life forever... everything, good and bad, came from your condition.

"I love my husband. It hurts me to see him... well, let's just say, as much as he tried to hide it from Esther and me, he was destroyed for a long time and I want him to get past that finally and it's your job to help me with it and that's why I agreed to meet with you and eventually become your friend four years ago."

"Do you really think he'd want to do it... with both of us?"

"I think so. If we ask him the right way, approach it the right way."

"You know, the saddest thing was that I never had a child with him and the best thing was that I never had a child with him.

"I thank God for that. I would not have made a good mother, then.

"So," she asked Bell, "when do you think we should ask him?"

"I'm thinking tonight before I chicken out, again. We'll make a special dinner for him and make him happy and then present it. You can start on the cookies as soon as he leaves and I'll sit down with you and put together a menu he's sure to like."

"It's funny, when you think about it. Any man would jump at the chance to do it with two women who love him and we're trying to convince him that it would be good for the three of us."

"Yeah, well, we both know Vince isn't any man. He's a special man with a different... what, here we both know him and we don't know how to describe him. That's crazy. I just know he'll like it if we do it."

Miguel came over to take me around the apartments. Since Nancy had moved in, I had started to visit the buildings each day. When Belle couldn't drive me, Miguel did and then he and I would have lunch somewhere.

What they were talking about... I had some crazy ideas what it might be, but couldn't believe Belle would do something like that. On the other hand, I would have never believed that Nancy would have done what she did, either.

I didn't know if I was running away from facing her... but then, yes, I had to admit, I was. I needed to work out my feelings myself. The psychologist helped but she was a woman, too, and I needed to work it out from a man's point of view.

I stopped by what had been Esther's apartment where we had lived for those short, so wonderfully happy years. Now, I know why she was trying to live life like there was no tomorrow. For my Esther, there's wasn't.

There was a young couple living there now, with a baby girl. They seemed very happy and I hoped that life would be kind to them.

I purposely came back as late as I could. Miguel had to get home to his own wife and five children. Part of his compensation was a free apartment and enough money to live a decent life.

I had given him a raise each time for the first three children but then I told him he was on his own for any others, I couldn't afford to subsidize his love life anymore.

Miguel was the hardest worker I had and when he finished at El Camino with his AA in horticulture, we were going to talk about starting a plant nursery as a joint venture.

The time to go home finally arrived and I sat on the porch a while, wondering what crazy idea Belle had hatched together with Nancy.

I'll say this for them, they sure put together a nice dinner out back. There were tiki torches and a baked ham and fruit and enough exotic stuff to call it a luau. Both of them were wearing grass skirts and bikini tops. Even though they both were in their 40s, it still was a gratifying sight for my tired eyes.

And, I figured it out.

Hawaii... Belle wanted to go to Hawaii, again. We hadn't ever returned after Esther was gone. We went other places, even more exotic than that: Tahiti, New Zealand, Australia, and all over Europe... but, never Hawaii... and, I was never able to take Nancy because I never knew which Nancy I would have been taking.

It was either that, or a threesome and I knew I wasn't... well, maybe my mind wasn't but my other mind sure was and I quickly sat down on the blanket-covered lawn with a napkin to hide my now very hard and demanding erection.

They wanted to go to Hawaii!!! I laughed like a fool, falling over onto the grass, holding my sides, tears coming to my eyes, it was so funny what I had been thinking at first.

Belle had brought out the stereo speakers and the music ranged from the 60s surfing music to Do Ho.

Nancy brought out the Honey-baked ham and the two of them, one on each side of me as I sat on the blanket, began feeding me tastes of this and that. While the food wasn't too much more than a regular California picnic with some pineapple and mangoes thrown in, the fact that they had gone to so much trouble, even if they were a couple of schemers, gladdened me.

I never thought I would be sitting next to my ex-wife again, let alone be almost comfortable with it. Coupled with what I had heard in the morning and the cooperation the two of them were showing, I realized that the past could finally take care of itself and leave me alone.

I never asked how she came to use a cane and she never brought it up with me. I did find out from Belle, though, that one of Nancy's Friday night pickups had thrown her down the stairs.

While I couldn't forget what happened, I also knew I couldn't hold her responsible for it any longer, either. Her bi-polar manic-depression had affected everyone in our little family circle, her most of all. When medication finally became available and she was diagnosed, the realization of what truly happened almost destroyed her.

Between the life insurance and the settlement from the lawsuit from the accident, Belle and I had bought several more buildings and the rents coming in kept us in a comfortable lifestyle. Without having to keep a schedule, a trip to Hawaii was actually an easily doable trip... 

It was time for me to take the hint so I waited for a lull in the conversation the two of them were having and said, "How would you like to go to Hawaii?"

Since I happened to be looking at Belle at the moment I said it, I saw Nancy's disappointment and I quickly added, "the two of you?'

Her face lit up with a smile, the same smile I remembered from our wedding day when we both said 'I do,' and...

I stopped thinking about it, not wanting to go where the rest of the day eventually led.

While managing properties was a full-time job, none of us had a 'real' job so there was nothing to do but book the tickets and the hotel and maybe get some new swim trunks for me. I began to wonder if I could still surf as I had back in the 60s when everyone was a beach boy and girl and the sun always seemed to shine. Even though I walked with a cane, I still moved well in the water.

"Since," I began, "you two have gone to all this trouble, I'm going to leave the details to your capable hands. Just make it for a couple of weeks, though. I'd rather want to go back than become bored."

"You won't get bored, Vince, honey, that I can promise you."

"I'll have to hold you to that, Belle," I said, "and you, too, Nancy."

"That's the first time you've called me by name, Vince, since I've come to live here. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a second chance with you... and Belle. I'm sorry I never met Esther, I think she would like me... now..." 

She seemed to run out of words and became silent. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, the first kiss in twenty years. I could feel her tension; "it'll be OK, just give it time like I'm trying to do."

I used a finger to wipe her tears away as best I could but she didn't seem to stop. I looked at Belle for help but she just smiled and walked inside. She continued to amaze me. 

Women and their secrets...

I just held Nancy to me and let her cry it out. Later, after everything had been cleared and put away, she came to me and tenderly kissed me. "Thank you, Vince," she said and closed the door to her bedroom.

I went in our own bedroom and began undressing for sleep. A long time ago, I used to wear pajamas but after the accident, I couldn't any longer, not that Belle minded as her hands would seek me out each night of our married life.

I would have liked to have a son or daughter but it just wasn't in the journey of my life. With Belle, it was physically possible but before we married, she said she didn't want any. The country, she said, wasn't a good place to raise a child, especially one of color. Unfortunately, I had to agree. Still, it would have been nice to have a little daughter in a nice pink dress, skipping down the street.

My life had been a series of 'what could have beens'...

I am sure there are those who would have never given Nancy a second chance. I am sure that there are those who would have resented the loving conspiracy that Esther and Belle had made so both could love me as my wife. I am sure there are those who would be angry with Esther never telling me about her sickness, but I understood why.

In life you have to play the cards you've been dealt and that was what I intended to do for whatever life we had left, just as I had when I fell in love with Nancy that late September day, just as I had when I fell in love with Esther and Belle.

Thank you for reading.

Chocolate Raisin cookies

Just like the popular candy, chocolate and raisins go great together! 

Ingredients

2 sticks (1 cup) salted butter, softened

2 ounces unsweetened baking chocolate

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup (packed) dark brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

9 ounces raisins (about 1 1/2 cups)

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips (about 1 cup) 

Hardware

Whisk

Microwave safe bowl

Large bowl

Medium bowl

Cookie sheets

Mixer

Step 1: Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.

Step 2: In a microwave safe bowl, combine butter and chocolate and heat in microwave until melted. Stir well; set aside.

Step 3: In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

Step 4: In a large bowl, with an electric mixer, blend sugars on medium speed.

Step 5: Add remaining 1/2 cup butter, and beat until grainy paste forms.

Step 6: Add eggs and vanilla extract, beat at medium speed until light and fluffy.

Step 7: Add the flour mixture, raisins, and chocolate chips. Blend at low speed until just combined.

Step 8: Drop by rounded tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheets.

Step 9: Bake 20-22 minutes or until set. Transfer cookies immediately to a cooling surface. 

Makes 48 cookies. 



Night Deposit



Nancy's behavior had always been erratic, even from the beginning, but I had put up with it because I believed she loved me with her entire being. It was now the marriage made in hell and I promised myself to see a good lawyer Monday morning, just in case the worst thing possible would come to pass. 

First, though, I was going to have some vicious fun watching Nancy try to explain the car's disappearance.

I turned the TV on to some sports program talking about the upcoming Dodgers' season. I didn't worry that much about baseball but it was good background noise; I thought about turning up the volume but I'd just be hurting myself as well, my own headache getting worse by the minute from everything that had happened. 

So far, even though it was so obvious if you stepped back and looked at it with cold eyes, everything was circumstantial and I didn't really have any admissible proof even for myself, let alone a lawyer, although that unknown red dress was a screaming siren demanding to be heard. If we were going to divorce, I wanted everyone to know it was for adultery. I would accept nothing less, no matter how ignorant it made me look, how foolish it made me look, how pathetic it made me look; I knew I was going to have to quit the school and just become a full-time landlord. There was plenty of money in that. The 'Vette was from those business accounts.

For now, though, I would let sleeping dogs lie. This bitch was definitely sleeping and now, I was waiting for the lies... how could she treat me like that?

A little after one that afternoon, I could hear the sound of the shower again. This ought to be good, I laughed, yes, indeed. I was amazed that I could laugh at anything, then.

Nancy finally came out of the bedroom wearing her UCLA blue-and-gold sweats, even though the house was warm enough to wear just a T-shirt. I knew she was hiding something she didn't want me to see. Maybe a lot of 'somethings' under that colored cotton cloth...

"What's the matter, honey? Are you cold? I can turn up the heater."

"No, Vince, I just felt like wearing these, again. You know, 'relive that college life'."

Damn woman, how stupid did she think I was? 'Relive that college life'... I'll 'relive that college life,' her. Well, I must be pretty dumb, if she's been doing this behind my back. I felt like the stupidest man alive, just then. I just knew this would somehow become my fault. I've worked in athletics long enough that everyone is always looking to put the blame onto someone else.

If Nancy thought I was going to make lunch for her, she had another thing coming. Cooking no longer held the appeal it once did; she could fix her own goddamned lunch and everything else, for that matter. I felt my anger starting to grow and I did my best to control it.

Walking into the kitchen, I called the police. This should be very interesting, I thought.

"Hawthorne Police Department... please, hold..."

I waited for just a short while. The town must have had an especially quiet night.

"Ah, yes, I'm calling about a stolen car. That's right. Last night..." I gave the information the clerk needed in order to find the report. "What time was that? I see... probably not... you think so? All right, thank you." The call ended but I kept speaking to the dial tone, talking about getting a police report and the imaginary impound fees for the 'Vette safely parked in my brother's garage... and the time the police were called... 9:17 PM. I guess, I thought, it took over three hours to figure out the car was gone since the police arrived five minutes after the call was made... at nine-twelve.

"Oh, God, Nancy... I'm so sorry; they found your car this morning over in Compton. It's been stripped." I tried to look sad and then remembered what she had done to me the night before. It was enough to make me cry so I turned and looked out the kitchen sink window. Let her think I'm upset about the car.

"What's left of it is in the impound lot. I'll take care of it. You shouldn't have to see it... I don't think you'd like it very much."

I opened the refrigerator so that my sad smile would go unseen and then took out the chicken to make a sandwich. As I continued speaking, I sliced a tomato and some lettuce. "It's too bad, really. I don't know what you're going to do to get to work, now. I'll just have to take you to work and pick you up. 

"I have to go talk to Al next door. Al needs some help with some wiring on that old car of his. Probably only be an hour or two, maybe a little more."

Before she could object, I left the kitchen and went outside to the back patio. 

It was then I realized that I had done all the talking and she had said nothing the whole time we were together in the kitchen.

I leaned against the outside wall next to the kitchen sink window as she grabbed the phone and began dialing. I was amazed; she couldn't even wait a minute or two!

I wasn't going to accept what she had done like some insane men would and overlook it or allow her to continue with or without my approval. I wasn't wired that way. "Might as well listen," I said to no one and leaned against the side of the house, the stucco hurting my skin but not as much as her actions.

"No, the car's GONE... no, I don't know what happened... did Jerry say anything about me? Oh, he did? I don't know, now... I'll tell Vince something... next Monday night... OK... I'll figure out something."

Yeah, I bet she'd try and tell me something. I felt what had to be a dark smile cross my face. So, the bastard's name was Jerry, was it? Shouldn't be too hard to track that asshole down and give him a little American western justice. But, that would have to wait a while until I took care of a few more important things.

She dialed another number. "Hey, baby... how are you?" She listened and laughed. "Yeah... I know, but I still don't understand about the car. It's always been all right there. You're right, Jerry, I should have just driven to your apartment... Yeah, he's pretty upset about that and wanted to know why I had to wait four hours for the police. It's a good thing he doesn't know how early I usually get out. I don't know, right now... He says he'll take me and pick me up... I don't think he'd like that, but I'll ask... I'm still a little sore... Him? Of course not, that's just for you... I've never let him do that and I never will. Oh, yeah, next time, darling, next time."

"Bitch," I said to myself. I knew just what she was talking about. Give it to him and not me, will you? Ah, fuck it. 

Now, it was time for some angry, cold-blooded revenge.

I walked to the '57 and pulled the ignition fuse from under the left side of the dash. It was easier than pulling the distributor cap. My Chevy wasn't going anywhere. Now that I thought about it, the 'Vette was in my name since I had bought it with business account money. I laughed and went next door to Al's house. After a while, we took off in Al's old ancient '38 Chevy and went south... just like my perfect life.

I was thinking. Every goddamn away game, I was gone until at least midnight, sometimes later. That had to be when she was stepping out on me... hell, maybe even home games; I had no idea when she actually arrived. How could you constantly check the stands in the middle of a football game?

I remembered the first time I had called her while at an away game and there was no answer. I called five times that night and she never answered. After I asked her about it the next morning, she gave me a song and dance about how she must have fallen asleep and didn't hear it.

Now, I hear her tell her friend that she's been getting off at least an hour earlier than I thought. Damn it! 

What if she had been bringing whoever it was to our house, to our bedroom, to our bed? And, now, she wanted something a week from Monday?

"Goddamn fucking bitch. Shit!"

Al looked over at me and grimaced. I was going to say something but stopped... I guessed I'd get to it soon enough.

We stopped near Huntington Beach and had a couple of burgers and a pitcher.

"OK," Al said, "I can't drive all the way to San Diego. What's going on?"

"Nancy's cheating on me, the bitch, that's what's going on. I can't fucking believe it. We've only been married five years. Damn it!" It's not that we only had been married five years; it was that we had been married five years.

I took another sip of beer, too worked up to get even drunk and then my face burned. "Oh, shit! I forgot about the bank! C'mon, we have to go back!"

The old car, now powered by a new V-8, made record time returning the twenty-seven miles north to Hawthorne and after arriving at the savings and loan, I practically ran in.

Opening my wallet, I pulled out my list of account numbers and when I reached the teller's window, I was going to ask for the current balances but I changed my mind. Instead, I pulled out my wallet and filled out a one-thousand dollar withdrawal slip for each one. 

"Thank you, Mary." She was the only Negro working there and I always tried to be nice after I noticed the other women tended to avoid her. Even Nancy, herself, wasn't too happy when I talked to the woman. So, she was a Negro... she was still a person who deserved respect... and a very nice one, at that.

"That's one-thousand dollars for this account, 83594, one-thousand dollars for this account, 83595 and one-thousand dollars for this account, 83600. You look a little down, today."

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Mary, just a little tired, that's all. How are you today?"

She looked around and leaned closer. "You know how it is..." She glanced around. I knew what she was referring to but I knew I could never know the pain she felt.

Mary took the information to the daily ledger and looked for the updated balances. Since I didn't have the actual passbooks, she would have made out temporary receipts for each account and filed the deposit slips into the counter slot but she eventually came back with the bad news I expected.

"I looked over and over. There's no money there. I'm sorry, Vince. I don't know what to say."

I smiled and walked away with all the information I needed and no one the wiser... I hoped. Each piece of paper showed me the balance of each account and each one was almost empty. I knew Mary wouldn't say anything.

I tried to stay calm but I could feel my heart beating heavily in my chest and there seemed to be a roaring in my ears and my head was feeling like there was a vise crushing it.

Nancy had never deposited any of my or her paychecks into the account and must have squirreled the money away somewhere else. I stopped walking.

Just then, a woman in a stylish business suit approached me. "Hello, Vincent... is everything all right?"

"No, Mrs. Green, I'm having a little problem with my accounts."

"Please, come into my office and we'll see if we can straighten this out."

I followed her to the other side of the bank where the escrow offices where.

The woman closed the door and motioned for me to sit down. She had known my mother since high school and continued their friendship up to the day my mother had died.

"Vincent, calm down. I can't help you if you're all upset. Now, begin at the beginning and we'll do something about it."

"Mrs. Green...'' I started.

"Vincent, I've known you since the day you were born. You know I've told you to call me Alisa." She smiled warmly, waiting for me to settle down. 

I calmed down enough to tell her the entire story, beginning with my ruined dinner and ending with Nancy's two phone calls and the bank accounts.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" she asked, reaching for the withdrawal slips. "Why don't you wait a minute?"

Alisa found that Nancy had four different accounts, each one holding thousands of dollars. There was the missing money... but, what to do about it? I was so damned frustrated and Alisa could see it on my face.

"But..." I stammered. I kept bouncing between total control and total lack of control.

"There's no 'buts' involved, Vincent. She's taken your money. Now, the question is 'what are we going to do about it'."

Alisa said, "You have to accept that the money is gone, but we're going to protect your business accounts right now."

She picked up her phone and spoke; several minutes later, the assistant manager came in with a cashier's check for $122,370.62, effectively closing my business accounts at the savings and loan. At the time, it was an incredible amount of money for someone to have and was the only reason I could afford to stay as a teacher and coach.

"If you'd sign here and here and here," he said.

"May I use your phone," I asked. After she nodded, I called the police and cancelled the stolen car report saying we had found the car and it was safe and sound.

Alisa grabbed her purse and started out of the office. "Well," she asked, "aren't you coming?"

I jumped up from the chair and followed her out.

"After we deposit this in a new account at Bank of America, you're buying me lunch," she told me, "and then we're going to my place."

My eyes widened at what she implied. Glancing over as we walked to her Cadillac, I noticed she had just the beginnings of a smile.

Oh, God, I thought, what have I got myself into? "I have to tell Al to go home."

With her help, the new accounts, one for each building and one for my personal use, were opened without any problems and I learned a few accounting tips that helped me out over the years.

"We're going to do this as a 'DBA' and you're all set."

As we left the bank, she anticipated my question. "DBA," she laughed, "doing business as. We used my home address so there's no way she can discover where that money went. 

"Just tell her there've been some problems with payroll. She can use the money she's squirreled away to pay your household bills. What's she going to say? 'Gee, honey, the money's gone, I don't know where?'"

Alisa drove down Inglewood Avenue until we finally came to a small, almost invisible Mexican restaurant.

"I think you'll like this place. Your mom and I came here a lot after your father died."

I wondered why I had never seen it before or why my mom never mentioned it. Another secret the women in my life had kept from me. Damn it, these women all keeping secrets! 

I had eaten that hamburger not that much earlier and was only going to have a couple of tacos but when the teenage girl came to take our orders, Alisa rapidly spoke in Spanish and the girl nodded her head and returned with two tequilas.

Lifting her glass, Alisa saluted me and downed it in one swallow. I looked at my glass and just sipped it; the burning liquid slid down my throat.

"Wow!" was all I could say, "But, I think I'll stay with beer."

We were halfway through our food, just making small talk about nothing when Alisa gave me the biggest shock of all.

"Vince, I don't know how to say this too well, so, please, just hear me out.

"Your mother and I were quite close... very close. If you remember, you and your brother were at my house almost as much as my daughter and I were at yours.

"Vince, your mother and I were lovers."

Jesus Christ!!!!! My bottle dropped; it hit the table, rolled off and smashed on the concrete floor.

She ignored the broken glass and the fizzing beer and took my hand.

"Vince... look at me. Your mom and I were together for a very long time... when we were still in high school. I loved your mother as much as anyone could."

Before I could speak, the young girl had brought a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up the beer-covered glass.

In a way, I was glad for the interruption. I quietly took a deep breath and looked out the window at the busy street.

By the time my beer had been replaced, my thoughts had calmed down enough I knew I wasn't going to say something stupid or insulting to the woman across the table.

I remembered when I called her 'Aunt Lisa' and how she and my mother looked so happy together. Suddenly, I realized my right hand had bunched up my pant leg so tightly it brought me out of my reverie.

"What about Dad?"

"When your mom and dad married, she was faithful to him; I mean, as far as, well... you know, that. She liked him as a good friend but I don't think she had that deep love we all look for with him. She always told me that you and your brother were her reason for living after he was gone.

"When your dad died in Korea... well, we eventually got back together. I was divorced by then. I never told Joe but he was broken by it and he left for somewhere.

"Honest to God, I hope that he's happy, now. I made a huge mistake in getting married. I'm so sorry that I did that to him. I told him there wasn't any one else, I just couldn't keep up the charade. He had a PI follow me, I found out later. Naturally, there wasn't another man and no one suspected a woman. I didn't want any alimony. After everything else, I couldn't do that to him."

"Do you hate me, now?" Her brows were furrowed and her eyes closed anxiously.

It was an interesting question, I thought. I didn't know what would have happened if my father had not been killed, but as far as I could remember my mother always loved my father.

"No... I'm OK; but, why tell me now?"

"I don't know... I guess everything you told me... I guess I wanted you to know that I was in your life more than you thought. I..."

"Alisa... it's all right. A little shocking, that's for sure... it's going to take me a while to get it all, especially, now... I mean, with her."

I couldn't even say my wife's name; I was that angry and depressed.

We sat there until early afternoon while I listened to her stories about my parents and later, about her and my mother.

Finally, she knew it was time to recognize the elephant sitting in the room. "What are you going to do? I mean, now that you know?"

My face reddened and my nostrils flared; she later said I reminded her of a bull ready to charge.

Then, something happened in my mind and a calm descended on me. Even the way I was sitting, changed. I was more relaxed than she had seen me all day.

"Well, like you said, the money's out of my control, but she's going to have to use it to pay the bills. That's going to be interesting, I think.

"I'm already screwing with her head with the car. Whether that car ever shows up again or not, I'm not sure right now but I know she's never getting it again. I wish there was a place to store it out of sight, but I'll just leave it where it is, for now.

"I've got a vacant apartment in the Manhattan Beach property, so I'm going to move my stuff there a little at a time. It's not much, just some books and things..."

I sadly realized that was all I had, now... some books and things and a couple of stupid football trophies. Not much to show for my marriage, not much to show for my life.

"Vince, about that; my daughter is coming out here from Texas and she needs a place to stay. She has a scholarship to USC grad school."

Well, I thought, there goes that idea. "Sure, she can have it. When does she arrive?"

"Monday... Amanda wanted to see California again before she starts this summer."

Alisa's request was so very inconvenient. I had planned to live there for a while until the house sold. Now, I would have to make do and find something else or just stay there and share the apartment or worse, stay at the house for the time being. There wasn't a chance in hell I... or she, for that matter, would ever live in that house again once the dust settled.

"Vince, if it has two bedrooms, why don't you just share the apartment? She won't be any trouble, I swear. Please, just give her a chance."

I knew I would help her... what she had done earlier was enough; I owed her.

I still had difficulty picturing my mother and Alisa... in bed, together. I shook my head, trying to physically throw that image out of my mind. It was starting to bother me and I wanted it gone.




Night Deposit



"All right, but there have to be some ground rules.

"First, it has to be quiet. I'm in no mood for noise, especially right now.

"Secondly, no visitors. I don't want any of my stuff stolen if I end up there.

"Third, no rent. If it doesn't work out, she has to leave and I don't want any landlord-tenant situations to deal with."

"I know she'll be very grateful for your generosity. How soon can she move in?"

"We can stop at the hardware store and get a couple of keys made. Anytime after that is fine with me. She can have the back bedroom; there are sheets and blankets already in the closet."

"Vince, I know you've been through a lot and it's a very bad time for you... a very bad time. I'm here for you. I'm sorry you found out about me and your mother this way. I honestly don't know why I told you. I guess I've wanted to tell you for the longest time."

"When we get back to your house, I'll write down the address and directions. You don't happen to have a picture, do you?"

Alisa opened her purse and took out her wallet. "Here," she said, giving it to me.

On the left side was a picture of a slim girl, almost to the point of being skinny, with mousy brown hair and big, round glasses.

But, on the right, I saw a picture of Alisa and my mother, both smiling for the camera, arms around each other. I could tell immediately they were more, much more than just friends.

So much, I thought that I didn't know and now, probably never would. I handed back the wallet.

"C'mon, Vince, I said I wanted to take you home."

We walked out into the afternoon sunlight. Even in early spring, Southern California was sunny and warm.

The ride to her house was quiet. I stared out the side window and she left me alone.

I wasn't quite sure what Alisa had in mind. Although she was still a very attractive woman in her early forties, she had told me where her preferences were, unless, of course, she... I wondered, strange visions dancing through my head... she DID have a daughter, after all.

Once inside the duplex front unit, she pointed to the couch and I sat down. "At least," I laughed, "it isn't covered in plastic."

When she came back, she had four photo albums. Now, I understood. For the next three hours, we experienced the romance the two women had, me for the first time, she reliving memories of a lost time... a lost love... a lost life.

As she drove me home, I tried to have a better understanding of who my mother had been... not a full understanding, just a small peak through the window of her life. Alisa kissed my cheek and watched me walk into my house.

I called and told the principal I was taking as couple of weeks off after Easter vacation whether he liked it or not. The priest readily agreed to it, not willing to lose, as he put it, one of the best coaches in the South Bay to another school.

Saturday evening was strained... Nancy stayed in the bedroom, I stayed outside in the garage working on my car, not that it needed it. The seven-year-old Chevy was fast, thanks to the new 327 it had. I remembered how she had complained about the expense but the money came from the apartment receipts so I did it anyway.

The radio was still full of what they were calling the "Good Friday" earthquake. It had registered 9.2. Jesus Christ, people in California died from the tidal wave that came down the coast.

By the time I was too tired to stay with the car, it was eleven o'clock and I went to sleep on the recliner. 

The last thing I wanted to do that Easter morning was talk to my friends feeling the way I did, so instead of going to Mass, we went to the House of Pancakes in Torrance. As we walked in, I saw families with small children and it was then I truly realized what Nancy and I had lost. One man was holding his son, couldn't have more than two and I could feel the love he had for the child even though I was on the other side of the room. I ordered Swedish pancakes with the lingon berries and Nancy had her regular buttermilk ones. I wasn't very hungry and just picked at my breakfast, finally just finishing one. "Nancy," I asked, "is everything OK? With us, I mean?" Surrounded by families, I kept myself as calm as possible. I had a cup of coffee. I hated coffee. She had a forkful of hash browns in her hand and frowned. "Of course, Vince, why do you ask? Is the something bothering you?" "Friday night..." "What about it? I know the car is gone but we can get another one." "Sweetheart, I just don't understand what happened and why you didn't call me." "I told you, Vince, I thought there was nothing you could do and where was I going to find a phone anyway?" "You found one easily enough to call the police after nine o'clock. What about that?" "Look, Vince, I thought we were going to have a nice breakfast, together. If you want to be that way, we should have just stayed home." "Look, I'm sorry." For some reason, I was on the defensive. "I just was worried about you so much and I felt helpless because I didn't know what was going on." Even I realized I sounded like a weak, defeated man. 

"Well... OK, I get it. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she said.

I wasn't too sure what that actually meant but decided to accept it for the moment. "I... OK, thank you." I took another drink of coffee. It just didn't make me like it, no matter who made it. "Nancy, I forgot to tell you, there were some utility bills that came in yesterday and need to be paid." "But, I don't have your check, yet." "I told you there's a problem with payroll, something they said they'll fix as soon as possible. We've got plenty in the savings, just use some of that." "But..." She shifted in her chair a bit. "We were saving up for the baby... you know, when we have one." "That's all right. When the checks start coming in, again, we'll just replace the money later." "But..." She was lifting her fork just then and the potatoes slid off as her hand shook. "What's the matter, honey? Is there a problem? You look peaked, maybe you're coming down with something. Maybe you should stay home tomorrow. I'll call in sick for you." "No, that's OK... I have to go anyway to send the payments in." She seemed a little more confident, just then but put her shaky hand into her lap. "Why don't you just write a check?" "Uh, yeah... I forgot... silly me... you're right. I'll be fine. I feel better already." "Wonderful... let's go for a ride up the coast and maybe spend the afternoon in Santa Barbara. It's time we had a little more romance in our lives. I'm sorry if I made you feel I didn't care or something." "Whatever gave you that idea?" She blushed just enough to make me nervous. "Oh, I don't know... it just seems like you've been distant, as if you had something else more important than us. That's all." "Vince, no, no, no... there's nothing or no one more important to me than you and us. You must believe that... you must..." She started to cry and I was at a loss. What the hell was actually going on? I didn't have a clue at that point, not a one and it wouldn't make sense until many years later.

I slid across the booth and put my arm around her. "Don't cry, baby, please, don't cry. We'll be all right. We'll be all right." Not exactly how I expected breakfast to go but it was a good start to rebuilding whatever relationship we would continue to have. I loved her but would I be able to live with her?

"C'mon, let's go." I took her arm and helped her up. She was still crying when I threw a ten down on the table and took her outside. Instead of driving for three or four hours up the coast, I drove us to Palos Verdes' Point Vicente and parked by the 'Haunted Lighthouse'. "Nancy, honey, let's go for a walk." We walked along the pathway toward the lighthouse, holding hands like teenagers afraid to do anything else. "There's a legend about a woman who waited for her lover lost at sea while some think it's the ghost of a heartbroken woman who threw herself from the cliff when she found herself abandoned by her fiancé."

I had not intended to go there and tell her that but, by the grace of God, it all seemed to fit with the way I was feeling about her. We stopped walking and I turned her to face me. I kissed her, kissed her, kissed her. Her arms went around my neck and I could feel her tears on my cheeks. Maybe the madness was over and I was just seeing what I so feared to see, even with the red dress and phone calls staring me in the face. I wanted her that much. I was trapped in a passive-aggressive relationship that we both fed into and her erratic behavior wasn't the cause of anything worse than any other time.

My wife, my life... We spent the rest of the day at Marineland. It was like we were dating again. Maybe we both lost sight of what it means to love someone... maybe we both lost sight that we have to let that loved one know we love them... I had a lot of thinking to do about what I had and had not done. There was a very romantic restaurant at Marineland so we had dinner there, talking and laughing and holding hands under the table. My heart was reacting to the woman... to the woman I fell in love with... to the woman I married. We went home and then to bed; we just lay there spooning together. I held her tightly, hoping whatever demons that occasionally possessed her had been banished. I still needed to see the doctor, though. I'd rather be safe than sorry and know just what she was doing when I wasn't around. 

Monday, I dropped off Nancy at the back entrance. For once, she kissed me and waved 'goodbye.'

I turned off Hawthorne Boulevard and headed west on Rosecrans toward Santa Monica Bay. Alisa's daughter was moving in and I wanted to meet her.

I started to whistle; something that I had not done in a long time. Nancy didn't like whistling, saying it was 'uncouth.'

Those Beagles were on the radio... 'Love me do.' 93 KHJ was letting me down.

I didn't like the song and changed the station. 1070 KNX... Earthquake, Viet Nam, again... I turned it off, preferring the sound of the wind rushing past the open window.

I pulled into my space at the apartment building. With twenty units, it was a necessity or I would have had to park down the block and walk up the hill.

I did a walk-around the property, one I had neglected to do this last week. Satisfied everything at least looked normal, I went to the upstairs apartment I had hoped to move into. Walking up the stairs, I passed a pretty brunette coming down. Even though technically still very early spring, it was a warm day and her white shorts and an almost too tight 'Texas A & M' T-shirt quickly caught my attention, something that rarely happened since I married Nancy.

Standing on the landing, I knocked on the door. There was no answer although I heard those Beagles playing on the radio.

"Excuse me, please." The voice sounded like a wind-chime in a gentle breeze.

"I'm sorry; do you need to get by?"

"No, this is my new apartment."

"Well, then, you must be Amanda. Please, let me help you. I'm Vince, Alisa's... I mean, your mother's friend."

"Great. Here, it's starting to get heavy. I'm Mandy, by the way." After giving me the box, she unlocked the door and stepped inside what should have been my apartment.

The song was still playing, 'Please, please me.' This time, I listened to it and found that I actually liked it.

"Those Beagles are pretty good," I said, uncomfortably trying to start a conversation.

She laughed. "You silly, those are the Beatles! You're funny."

I laughed, trying to play off my ignorance and she let me. There were times Nancy would ride me forever about some imagined mistake or misspoken word. I couldn't help it if I stuttered every now and then, it just happened. My anger started to surface again. Damn it!

"Do you have anything else?"

"Just a few more... My car's right outside. It's the white one. Would you like to come with me?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked out and practically bounced down the stairs. I caught a glimpse of her tight shorts just before she disappeared out of sight.

"She moves pretty fast," I said to myself and took off after her. That turned out to be true in so many ways. I hoped I could watch her descend the stairs to a little VW Bug crammed with boxes and bundles of clothes.

While unpacking, Mandy told me almost her entire life story and the graduate scholarship in Biology she was awarded at USC.

She was so happy to be back in Southern California, the Promised Land, as far as she was concerned. I was happy to just listen to her talk and before we knew it, it was lunchtime.

"Let's get some lunch, sort of a 'welcome back to California' lunch. My treat."

"OK, let me get my purse."

As we walked downstairs together, I felt guilty. This was the first time I would have a meal with a woman not my wife since Nancy and I had been married.

"Look, I'll pull my car out and you take my slot. You can use it from now on."

"Thanks, Vince. That's very nice of you."

After the switch was made, I drove north to Anthony's, an Italian eatery on El Segundo's Main Street. 

"This place has the best pizza, just like in New York." I had been looking forward to taking Nancy back there but her attitude just kept me putting it off. Better late than never, I reasoned, smiling at this new opportunity. For some reason, at that moment I no longer was as depressed as I was the last few days.

Sitting at the table, I looked at her. "Anything in particular?"

"Well, truth be told, if it's not pepperoni, it's not pizza. How's that?"

"A woman after my own heart. Large or small?"

"Oh, come on, there's no such thing as a small pizza, that's called a slice."

"Well, fine, that's great... just know, we don't say slice out here, it's a piece."

"You're right, I forgot. So... had a piece lately?" She laughed as I blew my iced tea onto my pants.

Mandy waved the waiter over and ordered their largest pepperoni.

"So," she asked, "clue me in... what else is there to get some kicks here besides eating pizza and surfing?" She gave me a 'Mona Lisa' smile and watched me squirm in my seat. It was obvious, I thought, she wasn't putting me on. 

"Most of the men... well, boys, really, are pretty thick when it comes to women." She took another sip of her Coke and took a look around for the waiter. "Do you see any possibility of getting back with your wife? At all?"

The waiter interrupted my thoughts, just in time. "One large pepperoni... another Coke, young lady?"

"Yes, thank you. Now, Vince, answer my question. Please." She gave me a little-girl look that probably worked a whole lot back in Texas.

I took a piece from the plate, stringing mozzarella all the way across the table. I folded it up like a paper airplane and bit into the still oh-so-hot pizza. Jeez, it was so hot... and, so good. I chewed with my mouth open a bit, trying to let the heat escape before the inside was completely burned away.

"What?" I tried to stall for time, wondering where that came from. I took another bite, this time a lot cooler... just this side of very hot.

"Look, I know you're wiped out because of your wife and everything. I'm just trying to find out if there's a chance for a girl like me." Like I said, that girl moved pretty fast. Jesus Christ, it was totally insane.

"Mandy..." I sighed. "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on, myself. Listen, I appreciate your 'interest,' but I don't know. Tell you what, I'll keep you in mind. That fair enough?"

"Good... mom told me you weren't some candyass. We cool, Vince?"

"Yeah, we're cool." I looked at her. Behind that girl-next-door pussycat exterior, I realized there was a tiger inside. I wondered whether Alisa knew. These damn women with their damn secrets, all messing with my head. 

We finished our lunch. For me, the time couldn't pass fast enough. I wanted to get away from this new shark in the water. I needed my mind clear for whatever came next with Nancy. Somehow, I had to make it work; I still loved her. I was insane.

Tuesday went about as normally as possible, considering the state of mind I was in. I tried my best to be especially nice to her and greeted by her very quiet demeanor when I brought her home that night.

The next morning, having taken a very subdued Nancy to work, I went to my doctor, a friend of mine. He had volunteered to be the team's doctor and was vigilant watching every player for injuries. If he told me the kid couldn't play, then the kid couldn't play.

The doctor was visibly upset with me and I could only imagine what he was thinking. He took enough fluid samples to test for about every VD known to man or woman.

"Now, this is going to hurt," he laughed, as he stuck me with the needle. "This penicillin will clear up any gonorrhea you might have picked up. It's the most common thing going around, now. God help us if it becomes resistant to penicillin. Syphilis and some other nasty things will take a little longer if you have them and I'm hoping not.

"Anyway, this will get us started and I'll get back to you as soon as I can... better, you call me on Thursday and we'll know what's what. 

"OK, tell the lady outside to give you a lollipop... I'm sorry, Coach, I didn't mean to make fun of it. This really is bad. I'm sorry."

"That's all right, Doc. I've already gone down that road. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."

Hooray, April Fool!!!

I drove over to Bank of America to deposit early rent checks.

I was standing in line, not paying much attention to other people and was quite surprised when Mary turned out to be the teller. It was one of those fateful, watershed moments that affect the rest of your life.

She was just as surprised as I was. Giving me a smile, she handled my deposits quickly and handed my passbooks back. As I walked back to the parking lot, I noticed she had inserted a note between the first and second one.

'I must talk with you please wait if you can I get off at noon'

I checked my watch: 11:35 At least it wasn't an hour away. I couldn't understand what she wanted, though.

Eight minutes after twelve, she walked out the back entrance to the bank. I approached her from my car and she saw me. 

"Take me somewhere else, Vince. Please."

I looked quizzically at her dark brown face. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.

Another woman with secrets... Was there one around me without them?

"Mexican?" I smiled.

"Whatever you want, Vince... I really don't care."

Damn... another moody woman.

I took El Segundo Boulevard west to Inglewood Avenue and south from there. 

A rumbling royal-blue Chevy would be easy to spot so I didn't want to drive past Nancy's place; somebody was bound to spot us.

Soon enough, we arrived at the same little Mexican place Alisa introduced me to. When we were seated, the same young girl brought out two beers and a glass for Mary.

"What would you like?" I asked.

"I really don't know. You've been here, before, I guess. Could you just order for me?"

I knew Mary had not contacted me for a free lunch so I decided to splurge a little and asked the girl to bring tacos and enchiladas and we'd go from there.

I looked at the woman sitting across from me. She reminded me of that girl singer in the Supremes, only slightly heavier and curvier... I thought she'd make someone who loved her very happy.

This was the second time that I was sharing a meal with a woman other than my wife.

"Calm down," she said, "I don't bite... at least, not too much."

I waited 'till she finished her first taco before I asked, "So, dear Mary, to what do I owe the honor of your company?" Yeah, I thought, that sure was smooth.

She gave me a nervous smile and put her hand on mine. With all the craziness that had been thrown at me since last Friday... sitting there, having lunch with a very cute Negro woman just seemed to fit in with everything else.