Chapter 12
Riding on the back of a motorcycle was a new experience for Arvin. “Hold on around my waist,” Oscar yelled. “Then you’ll follow my body when I lean instead of fighting it like you’re doing!”
Besides freezing to death, holding on to the handles at the sides of the motorcycle didn’t give Arvin the feeling of security he hoped for, and when Oscar leaned to the right, he automatically leaned to the left to stop the sensation of falling off.
“Okay, but it feels a little creepy to hold on to a dude,” Arvin yelled into the wind.
“In the ER, you had my dick in your hand,” Oscar called back. “I think you’re one up on me.”
“I was checking it for damage, you asshole,” Arvin yelled, laughing. “You busted your pelvis, remember? Just keep your eyes on the road.”
They stopped at a country store and Arvin, after wandering around for a few minutes, saw something that reminded him of Terry. He’d never bought her a gift in all the years they’d been friends. He hadn’t seen her in months, and she’d just recently started to take his calls again. It might be the perfect peace offering.
That night, he called her. “Surprise, surprise,” she drawled. “What happened Arvin? Did your date stand you up?”
He deserved her sarcasm and let her get away with it. “No, actually I was off today and Oscar took me for a motorcycle ride into the backcountry.”
Changing hands, Terry got up to pace. “Arvin, your parents spent a small fortune on your education. Oscar already had one bad wreck. Do you really think it’s wise to get on his bike again?”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Arvin said. “Someone ran into him.”
“Well I rest my case,” Terry said. “You have no control when you’re on that thing.”
“Jeesh, if it bothers you that much, I won’t get on it again,” he said.
“If I could believe you, that would be great,” she replied.
“I promise,” he said. “Now if we can change the subject, I bought you a gift.”
“You bought me a gift,” she repeated, disbelieving. “What kind of gift?”
“You’ll see. I’ll leave it in the front door of your office in the morning. I have to be at work before you open.”
“Okay! I’m excited now,” she said.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said, laughing. “I saw it and I thought of you.”
“That’s the best kind of gift,” she said. “I’m really touched.”
“I have a feeling this will backfire when you see what it is so chill, please,” he begged.
“I’m not going to be embarrassed, am I?” she asked.
“Well, it’s possible. It’s not a dildo or anything like that,” he answered.
“Great! You have a way with words, Arvin,” she replied, laughing. “I’ll call you when I get in then.”
“And I want to take you out, but I know you won’t agree to it, so I might just show up.”
“Right. I’d faint if you ever came up here,” she said.
“Well, maybe not up there, but maybe to Brenda and Larry’s house,” he clarified.
“Okay, well that might work,” she said, smiling at the phone. “Thanks Arvin. Thank you for calling.”
They said goodbye and she hung up. The radiators were humming in her apartment. She noticed when she was sitting on the window seat, that two of her neighbors across the street had put up decorations for Christmas already and Thanksgiving hadn’t arrived yet. She wasn’t going to put up a tree; it was too much work, and it was too depressing. The summer before, she’d lost her mother and the thought of celebrating that first Christmas without Elizabeth Kovac was too painful. Picking up the phone again, she called her dad.
“It’s late,” he said. “I was just thinking about calling it a night.”
“I’m sorry. We can talk tomorrow,” she replied.
“Were you thinking about Mom?” Harry asked.
Sighing, Terry nodded her head. “I was. Shall we bypass Christmas this year?”
“Oh no,” he said, chuckling. “I already have the tree we’re going to cut selected. You should come with me. Last year your mother saw it and said, ‘Next year this tree will be big enough for our living room.’ I tagged it then.”
“Well, in that case, how can I miss it?” Terry said, smiling.
“Are you going to have a tree?” Harry asked. “Because I have boxes and boxes of decorations for you to take. Your mother was a hoarder, you realize that.”
“Oh, Dad, she wasn’t that bad,” Terry replied, laughing.
“She was, too. You come and I’ll show you the basement,” he said. “Piled to the ceiling.”
“Well, if I ever have a tree, I’ll take her decorations.”
“You’d better get to bed,” Harry said. “You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Yep. I am getting a little tired I guess,” she said. “Love you, Dad.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, and hung up.
Terry bowed her head to weep. Being an adult was too difficult. She longed to return to her childhood in the northeast, in her cozy girly bedroom, with hot cocoa and homemade peanut butter cookies as a bedtime snack.
Looking at the clock, she called Brenda, needing someone to commiserate with.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“I wish,” Brenda said. “We had cheesesteaks for dinner so I have terrible indigestion. You sound sad. What’s going on?”
“I have grownup-itis,” Terry said. “I miss my bedroom at home.”
“Me too,” Brenda said. “Except the last thing on earth I’d want to do is go home.”
“What’s going on with you and Larry?” Terry asked. “I didn’t want to ask too many questions lately.”
“We had a breakthrough tonight,” she said. “It was either let’s put one hundred percent into it, or throw in the towel. Then I confessed that I’d missed my period.”
“Brenda, you never told me,” Terry said.
“Frankly, I didn’t know if I was going to have a marriage and if that was the case, I wasn’t having it. I know you feel conflicted about that and I didn’t want you to judge me.”
“Brenda, I promise you I will never judge you. Ever. So did you do a test? I’m dying here!”
“I told Larry finally and he insisted we do one and it was negative. So that started the dialogue about our marriage.”
“What was the outcome?” Terry asked.
“We’re buying a house at the shore,” she said. “Talk about a couple of shallow people.”
They laughed together, Terry denying that was true. “That’s a perfectly acceptable goal for a couple to have! Not everyone wants kids.”
“I also asked him about the text messages and he admitted there was someone but that it hadn’t gone too far yet. I don’t believe him, but I’m going to let it go.”
“Wow, you are amazing, Brenda. I can’t say I know many women who would be so generous.”
“It’s tit for tat,” she said. “He can’t very well haunt me about my past if he’s ready to jump into bed with another woman.”
“Okay, I gotcha then. Thank you for talking to me,” Terry said. “I feel better now.”
“Anytime. See you in the morning!”
They said goodbye and hung up, this time Terry shutting her phone off. She switched off the small table lamp and took one last look out the window. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like rain or sleet was falling, the street shiny, reflecting the streetlights. The seasons changing checked off the passing of time. Another day over, a week, a month, a year.
Terry was happy for her friend. Brenda and Larry had weathered a rough storm and were still together. It was obvious to everyone that they were really devoted to each other. Outside influences would do what they could to undermine a marriage. Hopefully, their relationship was strong enough to overcome anything else that would try to separate them from each other.
The next morning, Terry arrived at the office earlier than usual, excited to get the gift Arvin was leaving in the entrance of her office. She saw it as soon as she turned onto the walkway; a brown paper bag tied with raffia, her name printed on the outside in black marker, his chicken scratch doctor’s penmanship announcing who the giver was. He hadn’t signed it with his name.
Picking it up, she could tell right away what it was, and the hominess of it brought tears to her eyes. She pushed the door open with her shoulder and the office was dark, only the building manager there. Placing the bundle on her desk, she took her coat off and hung it on the coatrack, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. The steam radiators whistled. Outside, the early gray light of the day exposed a few snowflakes as they flew past her window.
Untying the raffia, her eyes glistening, she opened the bag and lifted out a perfect pumpkin with a small, curved stem, the curlicues of the vine still attached. It was a meaningful gift from an old friend.