in time, at the same money sitting in the same dusty account gathering its paltry interest. George’s nest egg had probably been sitting there for twenty years while they got along on the nursery money and lately the Social Security.
Her eyes went back to the most recent statement. With forty-two thousand dollars they could be doing so much to make their lives easier, for Cathy, for the girls… George could get a medical consultation at Stanford. They had a secret fortune!
She heard the back door rattle. Then she heard George saying “Now, what’s this?” to himself, and the door rattling again. Meantime she was pulling out a blank withdrawal slip from the savings book, closing the file up, closing the file drawer, and locking it up just like before.
Rattle rattle. “Goddammit!” George roared. “Jo-lene!”
“I’m comin’!” she called. She whisked across the kitchen and opened up, the withdrawal slip crammed into her pants pocket.
“Somebody locked the goddamn door!”
“Those little rascals,” Jolene said, “played a trick on you. Well, come on in.”
At 3:00 A.M. Elizabeth woke up. She went out onto the deck to see the stars, wrapped in a blanket. Looking out into the quiet black, she lay down on the chaise lounge. The Milky Way was an old creviced lane of light. She followed the handle of the Big Dipper to Arcturus and on to the Corona Borealis and Vega. A satellite moved across the sky, a solid point of light, consistent, fast. Soon the night sky would fill with such man-made lights, glittering space stations would wheel around, rockets would leave trails of brilliant debris…
Darryl had called and left one of his urgent, inane messages around noon. It disturbed her deeply. She had a hard enough time keeping herself together without this insistent male interest intruding on her life.
He better leave me alone, she thought. And felt such a pang of loneliness that she had to clench her teeth and wrap herself tight in the blanket to make up for the arms that weren’t there. Darryl, damn him, had reawakened some needs that she had tried hard to forget.
When she could think again, she told herself many things: about how connections are not worth it. About how all is impermanent and transitory, most especially human relationships. It all led to nothing but acute suffering. Loneliness was nothing compared to loss. She had made her decision to remain alone, and it was so unfair for this foolish married man to bring his warmth and wanting to her home, to interfere with her and knock her off-balance.
But then, perversely, she thought, if only I had someone just for a few minutes, I could open my arms and he would fill them and I could press my cheek against his warm living cheek…
She went back inside and flipped up the computer screen, brought up her journal, and wrote:
Then, finally, she could sleep.
That first moment, opening her eyes and seeing the red line across the trees that meant the night had finally left her, Elizabeth was content. Morning, hope, the dawn, old and effective symbols, drew her from bed into the weary round once again.
Today is a special day, she told herself, trying to hold on to that evanescent hope.
Downstairs, she made herself breakfast, listening to the sparrows and jays. She ate oatmeal, because that was the current health fad, which should keep her alive to suffer the indignities of an undeservedly long life, and then she dressed carefully. She needed to present an aspect of mental and physical health. She wanted to look important.
Today she would present a progress report to her thesis committee at the University of California, Santa Cruz. She repacked her burgundy briefcase, making sure she had everything, and went out to the Subaru. The mountains lay gentle under the morning sun, and in the quietness she began to feel a strong urge not to go out there to the land of freeways and people.
Get a grip, she told herself, you’re getting phobic. She decided to get it over with efficiently and get out. There were some problems with the study right now that she didn’t want to get into with the committee.
She went over Los Laureles Grade to Highway 68 and picked up Highway 1 in Monterey, entering the coastal fog bank. As she drove north up the coast toward Santa Cruz she thought again, I don’t feel up to this, and admitted to herself that her thesis was in danger. Her little group of subjects faced so many conflicts from so many directions right now-Green River, Danny’s death, the suspicions, Britta’s increasing outrageousness-maybe she should put off the meeting.
Oh, well, I’m halfway there, might as well struggle through it, she thought, and then, just at the turnoff for Manresa Beach, she felt a thunk, then a thud. Flap-flap-flap. Left front tire, damn Michelins too. Even at sixty-five the Subaru steered straight and the brakes didn’t let her down. Pulling over to the side of the road, Elizabeth read the number taped to the back of her mobile phone and punched it in.
The tow truck took some time. She gave up and called her committee chair and postponed her meeting for a week. She felt delivered, light. The sand came right up to the road on the side opposite her and she could smell the ocean. Leaning against the car, her back to the freeway, she let her hair fly in the breeze and watched the gulls.
A long yellow truck finally pulled up behind her. A man got out of the cab.
She squinted behind her sunglasses, recognizing him. Ben Cervantes. And felt huge relief and a little excitement. No new stranger to deal with, just Ben from the neighborhood. Who looked really good smiling at her.
“
His words, following her thinking so closely, startled her, and she felt herself smiling back. “I have a spare in the trunk,” she said. While he went to work with the spare and the tools, jacking up the Subaru, unscrewing the nuts on the tire, she folded her arms and watched.
She had always felt comfortable with Ben. He had clarity in his eyes that she took to be a high level of awareness, although she didn’t really know. Most of the locals saw through a thick gray film of murk. Maybe he didn’t, or maybe she was just much more sensitive to him for some reason.
For two years at the parties, Ben had come alone or with Danny, never with a woman. Then on Saturday night he had brought the attractive woman along, the pseudo-Hungarian who Elizabeth already knew was a lawyer. Were they close? She wouldn’t have thought Ben would-
Or maybe Ben’s type was different from what Elizabeth had thought.
He knelt at her feet, putting on the spare. His hands in the leather gloves moved the big tire around effortlessly. He leaned over and she watched his back in the T-shirt, strong and V-shaped. The breeze blew across the dunes. The cars roared by on the highway.
“I didn’t know you worked for the emergency road crew.”
“New job,” he said.
“Are you a mechanic?”
“Used to do body work only, but I’m a quick study.”
He didn’t work for long. Minutes later, he slammed the flat into her trunk and pushed down the hood. “You’ll want to get that to a station. Don’t want to drive around without a spare.”
“It does make me nervous.”
“You’ll be okay.”
She stood there looking at him for a long moment. Time stretched out. He stuffed a rag in the pocket of his overalls then looked back at her, patient, with those clear brown eyes.
He added suddenly, “I’ll follow you if you’re worried. You can get it fixed later.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course.” Simple human kindness, she thought, he’s kind, and it felt like rain on her soul. “I’ll pay you for your time,” she said, but he smiled and shook his head.
He jumped back into the yellow truck, pulling the door shut behind him with a thump. She saw him making a radio call.
Observing his face in her rearview mirror, she started up her car. They cut through the fog and back into summer as they turned inland, driving past fields of red snapdragons and orange poppies. All the way down Carmel Valley Road, she studied him. He had lost his job and his nephew, both recently, yet here he was, out on the road helping her and whoever else needed that big helping hand. How must he feel, really?
Back home, she took her purse out and searched for her checkbook.
“Please,” Ben said. “My pleasure.”
“Oh, no. I owe you. This is business.”
“Not for me.”
He wasn’t joking. He meant, he had welcomed the opportunity. “Thank you,” Elizabeth said.
She hesitated, then said, “Today is my birthday.”
“Really?”
“I’m thirty.”
His smile widened. “Happy birthday, then. I hope thirty is a good year for you.”
“Thanks again.”
“I’ll be going, then. Take care.” Reluctantly, she thought, he turned and walked off. She fitted the key into the lock and opened the door to her empty house and looked back.
He had stopped and was watching her. She saw the desire in his eyes.
She stepped inside and held the door open. He bounded back up the steps and came inside with her, kicking the door shut. Then he had her tight in his arms, supporting her, his hands tangling in her hair, his mouth on her mouth. He was searching for someone, the someone behind the great gray fortress of words and money.
And he found a way in. He found her, exposed her, soothed her fright, caressed her. She began to moan and twist in his arms.
She took his hand in hers and led him into the bedroom. They hardly spoke.
