Chapter 5
After returning to the safety of Brenda’s house, they ordered pizza and talked until eleven.
“Don’t leave,” Brenda begged when Terry got up and reached for her coat.
“Oh, honey, I’m excited about spending the first night in my new house. It will give me a chance to see the neighborhood at night, too. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Thank you again,” Brenda said.
They embraced and then Brenda stood in the door and watched Terry get into her car and back down the driveway.
When she was out of sight, Brenda went back inside and called Larry.
“I was wondering if I’d hear from you tonight,” he said.
“Terry just left. I was worried I’d wake you,” Brenda replied.
“No worries about that. It’s been the usual Saturday night in the big city ER. I might close my eyes for a few minutes until the bars close when the bulk of our business comes in. I thought you were going to O’Dell’s.”
“We did,” she said. “They changed their bar food menu and we didn’t feel like sitting in the dining room. We got pizza here instead and I have leftovers.”
“Yum. I’ll have some for breakfast.”
“I miss you, Larry. I can’t wait for you to get back home,” Brenda said, partly out of guilt, but really meaning it.
“I miss you, too,” he said. “I’m really missing our Saturday night special.”
“Do you want to have phone sex?” she asked, a first.
“Ha! Yes I do, but I’m sitting at the triage desk and there’re Philadelphia cops all over the place. I don’t think it would go over too well.”
“Well, tomorrow after you have a shower, a nap, and a slice, I’m going to ravish you,” she said. “I’ll even lick your balls like you like.”
She could hear him smothering laughter, and it brought her the first relief she had since seeing creepy Al Fallbrook.
“Is that right,” he finally said. “Well now I can’t wait to get home.”
“I love you, Larry,” she said.
“I love you, too. See you in the morning.”
After they hung up, she got a burst of energy and straightened up the apartment. Maybe she’d do what Terry suggested and take an interest in their home. It would mean a lot to Larry, who was the kindest man. At that moment, she’d do anything in her power to make him happy.
Terry turned off Lincoln Drive onto Mount Pleasant at midnight. The streets were empty, some houses dark for a Saturday night. A group of young people hanging out on a corner smoking gave her a sense of peace rather than fear, a similar scene in the northeast a common sight on the weekend. Her car chugged up the hill; it was that steep. She had to look for her driveway tucked in by the stone retaining walls which had effectively held back the huge lawns and giant houses for more than a century.
The motion-detector lights pinged on as she drove slowly down the narrow driveway. Hopefully, Earle’s bedroom had light-canceling drapery. A man stood in the window watching her in the imposing house next door. She hadn’t met those neighbors yet.
Without looking up, she scurried down the driveway after parking her car, embarrassed to be observed coming in so late, but the man knocked on the window. She had to look up and he smiled, and pulled an older woman next to him who also smiled and waved. They gave her the thumbs-up after she waved to them, and watched her until she was safely on her porch. They were just keeping an eye on her safety.
Quietly inserting the skeleton key in the door, she heard the now familiar click of the lock. Tiptoeing up the staircase, she’d remember to be quiet in her apartment, too. Opening that door, the blast of warm, fragrant air came out to greet her.
Hanging her coat up, she looked around, pleased. Quickly changing into sweatpants, she got the half-full bottle of wine leftover from her parents’ visit earlier that day, intending on finishing it off. With a wineglass in hand, she went to the big round window and sat on the window seat. For the next hour, she watched her neighborhood, becoming familiar with its ebb and flow of activity.
The young couple across the street went to bed early and woke up early, even on the weekends. Next to them was an older, widowed man whose lights were on until the wee hours. Oddly, even though they wouldn’t meet until the following summer, she was comforted seeing his lights on at night when she had insomnia. Her next-door neighbors were night owls, too.
At three a.m., an hour after last call, the final bus of the evening stopped to pick up the late-nighters, and the last riders coming in from Center City on the late train. Those stragglers would run up the hill to catch the bus, their appearance ensured after the sounds of the train disappeared into the night.
During that first night of observations, Terry fell in love with her neighborhood, immediately becoming part of its fabric. Her house had its own heartbeat, too: Earle, always home, hosting dinner parties and Sunday brunch, inviting the neighbors in for tea and to view his latest art piece, almost always landscapes of the neighborhood. Benny worked all night but was home all day, his life slightly mysterious, but seemingly benign, as was Benny. And now Terry, attorney by day, silent observer by night. Leaving her apartment for anything but work slowly became anathema.
“Are you becoming agoraphobic?” Brenda asked, concerned.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I have no trouble leaving for work or to see my folks or to come out with you after work. But once I’m home on the weekend, it’s painful to leave. I just want to stay there.”
“I wish I felt that way about our house,” Brenda replied. “I can’t wait to leave on the weekend. Poor Larry wants to relax with his sweatpants on and watch TV and I’m dressed and ready to leave by breakfast.”
On that first Saturday night, Terry finished off the bottle of wine and debated opening another, when she remembered she wanted to shop for furniture, so she grabbed her computer instead and went to one of her favorite sites, which offered everything she needed, from a couch and tables to lamps, an easy chair with ottoman, a bed and headboard and a small table and chairs for the kitchen. Shopping for a dresser another day at the used furniture shops along Germantown Avenue was more appealing than buying something she’d have to put together.
By four, she’d finished buying everything she needed. Yawning, she stretched and took one last look out the window. A light rain was falling, just enough to make the street shine in the lamplight. It was perfect sleeping weather.
Earlier that day, she and her mother had made up the blow-up mattress in the bedroom. It already looked like a bedroom, with her pillows and an afghan her grandmother had crocheted thrown across the foot. Brushing her teeth in the bathroom felt like home. She wound her hair into a ponytail and didn’t waste any more time before getting into bed. Within seconds, she was snoring in her cave of a bedroom.
The next morning, Sunday, was a gray, wet day, perfect for staying indoors. If she were living at home with Harry and Elizabeth, she’d have felt compelled to meet friends in town for brunch, or take a cab to Arvin’s apartment and have sex before making eggs and toast in his dingy, cramped kitchen. The need to leave no longer existed. As a matter of fact, she had to force herself to shower and dress - another pair of clean sweatpants, a sign she wasn’t going far.
Instead, she got out her computer again and searched for the nearest grocery store. Luckily, it was right around the corner, a large newer Acme. She’d be starting from square one; she didn’t even have salt. Maybe she’d better drive, she thought. It would be too much to haul home on foot.
Before Terry got too comfortable lounging on her window seat, she headed out to the Acme and an hour later, returned with enough food to last her more than a week. Lugging ten bags of groceries up two flights of stairs would become part of her workout. Leaving the comfort of her own new home also precluded going to the gym, the membership a ridiculous expenditure made mostly to get out from under her mom and dad’s protective gaze.
Digging a large stew pot out of her kitchen boxes, she decided to make chili, about as comforting a meal she could imagine on a rainy and cold fall day in her new house.
Wiping tears off her face after dicing a particularly strong onion, Terry was headed back to the window seat to watch marathons of her favorite Netflix series on her iPad when her cell phone rang. Reaching to the card table for it, she frowned. It was Arvin.
“I hear you moved out of mommy and daddy’s house and I’m the last to know,” he whined.
“You knew I was looking,” she said, flicking off the iPad. “It’s not my fault you didn’t care enough about what I was doing to take a moment to stay in touch.”
Tired of his shenanigans, Terry was in no mood to try to placate Arvin. “Well, I care enough that I’m calling you now,” he said. “Brenda told me you moved to Germantown. Why? Of all the places in the city, why move up there?”
“Arvin, in the first place, I’m in Mount Airy, not Germantown. I’m down the street from Germantown Avenue, but it’s not Germantown. Secondly, I love it up here. I knew when I was in college that I’d live up here someday.”
“I thought you went to Michigan State?” he said, confused.
“I went to Michigan for law school. University of Michigan. Not Michigan State. Two different places.”
“I know that,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Where’d you go to undergrad?”
“Chestnut Hill College,” she said. “If you’d listened to me, you’d remember my folks wanted me to stay in the city and Chestnut Hill gave me a scholarship.”
“Terry, what’s wrong?” he asked, her tone of voice a giveaway that she wasn’t happy about something.
“Nothing’s wrong Arvin,” she said, clenching her fist.
“Look, stop playing games,” he said, irritated. “I make the effort to call you and you act like you hate me.”
That did it. “Arvin, I’m pissed! This is not what I had in mind when I told you I’d be exclusive. You haven’t called me in over a week. The only time we get together is when I swallow my pride and make the call. I’m tired of it.”
“Well, I’m calling you now,” he said. “I want to see you. Come on over.”
“No,” she said, firmly. “I’m home today, in my new home, and I’m not budging. If you want to see me, come up here.”
He hesitated, and it was the last insult Terry was willing to take, for that day at least. “Look, it’s getting late,” he said, although it was only two in the afternoon. “I’ll tell you what. Let me take you to dinner next Wednesday. We’ll go somewhere nice.”
“Do you promise?” she said, her voice shaking.
“I promise,” he said. “You can come straight over here after work.”
“Remember I won’t have my car,” she said. “I’m taking the train down.”
In the past, she’d take the subway to her parents’ house; the entrance was right at the corner of his block in South Philadelphia.
“Right! You can spend the night now that you’re not living at home,” he said.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she replied, her mind whirling.
She’d pack a small bag with a clean blouse and her makeup. If she wore a dark suit, no one would notice it was the same one from the day before. The excitement of seeing him, even if he was unreliable, was thrilling.
“I’m sure. I’ll even make room for you in my closet,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “But thanks.”
They chatted a few more minutes and then he said he had to go. Arvin was in big demand.
“Have a great Sunday, Arvin,” Terry said, feeling charitable. A real date with him would cover a multitude of his sins. “I can’t wait to see you Wednesday.”
“And I can’t wait to see you,” he said, rife with sexual innuendo.
They hung up, Terry smiling. As much as she hated herself for allowing anyone to treat her with such indifference, Arvin still did it for her. There was just something about him that was special. Hopefully, he’d grow up.
Looking at her phone, it was almost two thirty. Terry debated texting Brenda to tell her about the call, but didn’t want to interrupt her time with Larry. Getting up from the window seat, she’d make a cup of tea, and if the feeling persisted, a call to Brenda was in order.
Brenda was in limbo. Larry was sleeping upstairs in their bed. Not wanting to wait until he napped to have sex, as soon as he’d walked in the house after being on call all night, he was on her, kissing her, pulling her underpants off, and lifting her up to ride on his hips as he walked through the house with her legs around his waist.
“Wait!” she cried. “Don’t you want to shower so I can do your favorite to you?”
“No,” he demanded. “Right now all I want is to be inside you.”
Unzipping his jeans, he held on to her with his left arm and fumbled to get his already erect penis out, and with her against the wall in the empty dining room, he aimed for the right spot and pushed into her without wasting another minute.
“Oh baby,” he moaned, his hands on her rear end, forcing her into the wall. “I’ve been thinking about doing this to you all night.”
He filled her up. Brenda arched her back to get him in deeper, wiggling around, bouncing a little bit, driving him crazy. Reaching down with his fingers, he felt where they joined together, adding a little more sensation until they were in a frenzy of passion and intimacy. Throwing his head back, he cried out for her, but she wasn’t finished yet. Seconds after he came, Brenda did, a first time in their relationship. It was a record breaker in both the duration, less than five minutes, and almost simultaneous orgasm.
While he slept, Brenda pondered what had happened. She couldn’t help herself; she was a little disappointed that they hadn’t waited until he was rested and showered so they could spend hours in bed, like they used to when they first slept together. Although the sex was getting more intense, it took less time to get there. She wasn’t so sure it was a good thing.
Sitting on the end of the couch with her legs crossed, she debated getting dressed and doing something constructive with her day when the phone rang. It was Terry.
“Saved by the bell,” Brenda said, standing up. “I’ll make tea. I’m assuming you’re ready to chat.”
“Ha! Yes. Arvin just called and I thought of you as soon as he hung up. I’m not interrupting anything am I?”
“Unfortunately, no there’s nothing to interrupt,” Brenda said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You go first,” Terry said.
“No, no, you go ahead,” Brenda said. “I have all day to whine. How was your first night in your new home?”
“It was great,” she answered. “I love it up here.”
They commiserated about Terry’s conversation with Arvin. “You know I love the guy,” Brenda said. “But then he does something like not call you for a week and I want to slap him upside the head.”
“Well, the good news is we have an actual date Wednesday night! And I’m going to sleep at his place for the entire night and come into work Thursday wearing the same suit I wore the day before.”
Laughing at that visual, Brenda had an epiphany. “Wear a white shirt on Wednesday and bring a colorful one for Thursday. You can take your jacket off and no one will know the difference.”
“Excellent idea,” Terry said. “So now tell me what’s going on there.”
Brenda went into detail about the telephone conversation she’d had with Larry the night before, promising him delights the next day, and then what happened instead.
“Brenda, it sounds so erotic. He carried you through the house, kissing you. That’s like a scene from an art film.”
“Yes, well, it was so Larry. He controls our lovemaking. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before. It’s so embarrassing I don’t even know if I can say it out loud.”
“Well, you’ve got to tell me now,” Terry said.
“Oh God…” Brenda whined and then giggled.
“He doesn’t pee on you, does he?” Terry asked, appalled.
“Oh, nothing like that. Well, he’s sort of into my…butt,” Brenda said, giggling again.
“As long as you like it, that’s fine,” Terry said, and then hesitated. “Do you mean he likes your butt cheeks? Like to squeeze?”
“I don’t think he can finish unless his finger is in my, you know,” Brenda said, putting her head down on the kitchen counter and giving up, laughing hysterically.
“Oh. Ugh.” Then Terry laughed. “Has he always been this way? We’re making it sound like an affliction.”
“It is! Yes! The first time we did it, on our first friggin date, he shaved my butt! Not just; he insisted on doing the whole thing. I itched for two weeks afterward. Now he wants to check me out all the time to see if I need a trim. ‘Come to the barber,’ he says. It’s very disconcerting. I’m tempted to do it to him, just to see what the big deal is. If anyone would have ever told me I’d take part in any kind of anal sex, I’d tell them they were crazy. He’s either licking me or sticking his finger up there.”
“Honey, I don’t know what to say,” Terry said. “At least he touches you down there. Arvin has an aversion to it. It makes the whole experience feel so superficial, almost disconnected. I could be just any girl.”
“Larry’s like an oral fixated lunatic,” Brenda said. “He wants to do that all the time. I’d like to look in his eyes once in a while; do you know what I mean?”
“The guy is a freak! The wall-bang was probably a chance to do that,” Terry said. “You were eye to eye, right?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Brenda said, sorry she was complaining.
“Arvin won’t go anywhere near there.”
“You mean he won’t go down?” Brenda asked appalled.
“You think he’s afraid to look or touch, but he’d eat it? Oh hell no. He wants me to do it to him, but he won’t reciprocate.”
“Terry, don’t date him! He’s a moron!”
“Right now, Arvin is the path of least resistance,” Terry said sadly. “I sort of have someone in my life, but there are no ties so I can concentrate on my job. What he will do is pretty amazing. Memorable is a good word for sex with Arvin.”
“What’s left?” Brenda asked, confused. “If he won’t touch you with his hands, that just leaves his pee pee. Men really think those things are the be-all, end-all.”
“He says things to me,” Terry whispered. “I can’t explain it. It’s so romantic, I don’t notice the deficit until he’s finished and I’m still rarin to go.”
“Interesting,” Brenda said. “He sure is handsome. Oh well, that just goes to show you that looks aren’t everything.”
“No, but in Arvin’s case, he doesn’t have that much else going for him except his personality, and at times that’s not even enough.”
“But you’re still having dinner with him on Wednesday,” Brenda reminded her.
“Dinner and a sleepover, don’t forget,” Terry said.
Packing for her overnighter Tuesday after work, Terry felt silly about the excitement she felt. Was her life that empty that a few hours with a man who obviously didn’t even like her that much could bring her such happiness? The situation felt out of her control because she didn’t know how to change it. The contradiction of Arvin was an enigma. Why did women put themselves in such terrible circumstances? There was nothing in her upbringing that would suggest she’d ever lack the confidence or self-esteem to back away from an abusive relationship. Even thinking that phrase stunned her. Arvin wasn’t abusive at all, he was simply a user. He used and didn’t give back much. But again, there was just something about him that made a relationship with him valid.
Riding the train to work Wednesday, the excitement of an adventure looming ahead melded with the still fresh thrill of her new commute. It was so easy; a two-minute walk down Mount Pleasant Avenue, turn right, and three short blocks to the station, all the while a beautiful concert pianist somewhere close by played a medley of Christmas music, the beautiful sounds ringing out over the avenues. Joking about Christmas music before Thanksgiving, the other riders recognized her as someone new, smiling at her, but no one greeted her. The group didn’t speak to each other, reading their phones or looking at printed paper, a throwback to an earlier time. A quick thirty-minute ride into Center City with a few stops along the way, and then a fifteen-minute walk and she was at the office.
She’d done as Brenda suggested; wearing a severe, tailored dark gray suit with a white long-sleeved shirt under it. In her overnight bag, which she stashed out of sight as soon as she entered the office, there was a bright red, blue and purple floral blouse.
Sticking her head in Terry’s office, Brenda winked. “You all ready for your big adventure?”
“I am. He has to work until seven, so I’ll stay late here and then take a cab over to his apartment. He said to meet him at seven thirty sharp.”
“Where are you going to eat?” Brenda asked.
“I don’t think he mentioned the exact place,” Terry said. “I hope it’s not a dive. I didn’t bring anything to bum around in.”
“Ew,” Brenda said. “Arvin is not known for his openhanded spending.”
“You know come to think of it, why did you fix me up with him?” Terry asked, laughing. “He’s unreliable, selfish, immature, and now I hear he’s cheap.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, laughing. “Forgive me?”
“Yes. When are you going to start clerking for me?” Terry suddenly asked. “Has anyone said anything to you?”
“Not a word, and I’ve about had it in that mongrel pool. I hate young, male lawyers.”
“I’m going to stick my neck out and ask Vince today,” Terry said, determined. “He’s thrown a huge case in my pile. I need your expertise.”
“You know where to find me,” Brenda said. “I’d better get back to hell.”
Terry kept her promise and asked the senior partner to let Brenda come over to her office to clerk. He agreed, and by quitting time, Brenda was installed in an office closer to Terry, away from the misogynist catcalling hell of the bull pen.
“Let me know how it goes the first chance you get!” Brenda said, pulling her coat on. “I’ll be on pins and needles.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Terry said, laughing at her. “We’re just going to dinner. Then I can spend the night in his grubby bed and take a shower in the disgusting shower stall he hasn’t cleaned since his residency.”
“Is it that bad?” Brenda asked, revolted. “Larry will be shocked.”
“Don’t tell him, promise,” Terry pleaded. “Arvin will know it came from me. I must still have hopes for something from this guy or why am I worried?”
“You wouldn’t be going out with him if you didn’t hope for something,” Brenda said gently. “Anyway, I’m getting out of here. Larry wants dinner when he walks in the door. I have two hours to prepare it, so instead of watching my DVR’d soap operas, I have to think of something to cook.”
“On the first day I met you, you said that was what you wanted to do,” Terry reminded her. “What changed?”
“What changed is that now I feel like a short-order cook. I make the crap, feed it to him while he’s planted in front of the television, and then I get to clean up the mess. I should never have started it. Meal preparation should be shared, not one doing all the work because she has the misfortune of getting home before he does.”
“What does he do on his day off during the week?” Terry asked.
“He does the shopping and runs errands like picking up the laundry, and gets the house cleaned, so I guess he does his share,” Brenda said begrudgingly.
“You’ll figure it out,” Terry said. “Scoot so I can tie things up here. You did so much today that I can really start my research.”
“Okay, well I’ll be waiting to hear!” Brenda said, leaving.
Terry finished up and at seven she was ready to head over to Arvin’s apartment. It was dark and cold, so she got the first cab she saw and gave him the address. At seven thirty, their meeting time, the cab pulled up to a dark building.
“Can you wait a moment?” Terry asked.
“Sure,” the driver replied.
Terry got out and knocked, pressed his buzzer, and finally sent Arvin a text. Where are you? When he didn’t answer right away, she had a decision to make; let the cab go and wait, or leave. But what if he was just delayed at work? Larry would know.
Did Larry get home on time? she texted Brenda, and Brenda called right away.
“He’s here. What’s wrong?”
“Arvin’s not here,” Terry said, choking back tears.
Brenda mumbled something to Larry in Polish and Terry could hear him answer.
“Honey, he said Arvin left with a group right at seven to go to happy hour.”
“Okay, thanks. My cab is waiting so I’d better hang up,” Terry said.
She didn’t wait for a reply, but got back inside the cab. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Can you take me to Suburban Station?”
“Sure,” he answered, watching her in the rearview mirror.
Terry was a little frightened; she didn’t know the exact train schedule after rush hour “Do you know how late the trains run?” she asked, remembering hearing a train at two a.m.
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” he said. “They run late.”
Relief. She leaned back against the seat, no anger yet, or even humiliation, just pure relief that she was on her way home, to her new, safe place in just half an hour, if she could get a train. The cab driver dropped her off at the station and watched her get inside safely. A train to Allen’s Lane had just pulled in and she got on, sitting on the first seat she came to, holding on to her briefcase and purse and overnight bag, feeling foolish for the joy she’d put into packing for the night.
Closing her eyes, the comfort of the train ride, the peace it would give her for the rest of the time she worked in Center City, became real to Terry for the first time that night. The screeching of the wheels against the rails as it turned corners, the chug of the engine going up the hills of East Falls and then on to Wissahickon, finally leveling out as it entered the Allen’s Lane station would become familiar sounds to her in the years to come, sounds that would mean home.
There was one more stop after Allen’s Lane, and about half the people on board got off along with Terry. A group followed each other up Mount Pleasant Avenue, so although it was dark at eight thirty, she felt safe. When she turned into her walkway, she called out goodnight to the others, and they said goodnight, an older gentleman tipping his hat in her direction.
She was quiet going in, not feeling up to chatting with Earle. She knew Benny was gone to work, and the house was dark except for the light from Earle’s television. Not expecting to come home, she hadn’t left a light on in her apartment, but then she noticed the small fluorescent light above her vintage stove, and the welcoming beams it cast in the hallway made her happy.
“Home sweet home,” she said out loud.
Quickly unpacking, she didn’t want any memories of the experience. The wonderful cab driver and the train ride had made up for it. Taking a hot shower and slipping soft sweatpants on was an additional nod to comfort.
“I’m starving,” she said to the air.
A bowl of homemade chili and a hot corn muffin with melted butter on it were the final touches of well-being. Reaching for her purse, she dug out her phone that she’d shut off after the last communication with Brenda.
She had six messages. Skipping over five from Brenda, she went right to the one from Arvin.
Where are you? I had a meeting after work and was here by eight. Thanks a lot for hanging in there.
Stunned at his lie, she would keep her power by letting him have the last word.
Going to Brenda’s messages next, Terry smiled at her friend’s loving concern.
I’m fine, at home in bed, no worries. Then she shut the phone off, not wanting to talk.
Sitting on the window seat with her Kindle, she read till midnight, heartache soothed by the rhythm of the neighborhood.