Chapter 6: All that Eden Allows
The second day of Maggie’s training on the computer system is again productive, and Eugene, the computer rep, tells her she’s a quick learner. He even forgets to discuss computers during their lunch together at Denny’s on the beach. This shows he’s taken with her. He asks if he can call her next time he’s in town and she says yes. He’s good company, Maggie thinks. The rest of the week at work passes uneventfully, though there’s no thawing of the cold shoulders from Kate and Hilda. Curiously enough, Ophelia seems even friendlier toward her. Must be the calm before the hurricane, she reflects.
#
Maggie’s at work Friday morning when Max calls and asks if she can meet him for lunch. Her first reaction is to decline, but he doesn’t give her time.
“This will be our last chance to see each other before I leave for pilot training. I wanted to say bye in person.”
“When are you leaving, Max?”
“I’m flying to Dallas Sunday evening.”
“Isn’t that kind of sudden,” she says, feeling an abrupt, disturbing sense of loss.
“If I miss this session, the next one isn’t for another year.”
Despite her guilt and regard for Pam, she knows she can’t let Max walk out of her life without seeing him again. As a friend. And after all, it’s just for lunch. “Yes,” she says, “I’ll come.”
They meet at Friday’s. After passing through the buffet line, they sit at a table against a wall and a waitress brings iced tea with a lemon slice on the glasses. This is the first time she’s seen Max since that fateful night he “rescued” her from the company of Mr. Burns.
“I thought about calling you before now, but didn’t know if I should,” he says.
When she looks into his eyes, she reddens and feels flustered, remembering how easily she lost herself in them before and what that led to–how wonderful it had been, but how terrible it made her feel because of Pam. This time Maggie will not allow herself to succumb.
“I’m glad you did,” she says. “I would hate for you to leave without at least calling.” She tries to make her voice sound casual. She knows he too must be thinking about that night and wonders how it might have affected him. Certainly not as much as it did her, she’s sure. Why should this realization make her feel regret? She knows why really: Her self-esteem would be hurt if it had stirred him only casually. But on the other hand, she should not want him to be too strongly bound by it, because it might serve to increase the rift Pam said was forming between her and Max, for which she feels enough guilt as it is.
She meets his eyes evenly and says, “Max, I wouldn’t do anything again that could undermine your relationship with Pam.”
“I know that, Maggie. I have no regrets about what happened between us. Do you?”
“It was an accident,” she said. “I didn’t realize what I was doing–I felt so battered and vulnerable, I lost my control.”
Max touches her hand. “You needed someone. I’m glad it was me.”
“I know it was my fault and I feel so guilty,” she says. “I don’t blame you. I blame me.”
“No one’s to blame,” he says gently. “What happened was innocent and natural.”
She wishes she could rationalize it like that. Max is so sincere and charismatic that she could almost believe his words if she lets herself be mesmerized again.
He squeezes her hand. “Please don’t feel bad. I don’t want our last time together to be anything but a good memory. Okay?”
Maggie smiles and squeezes back. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve become too absorbed in myself lately. What airline are you planning to fly for?”
“Pan Am. They offer an attractive package.”
“How long is the training course?”
“About ten months, give or take time for on-the-job training. This time next year I hope to be flying the friendly skies.”
“I’m so happy for you,” she says. She remembers what Pam said about his leaving her behind and wonders how much there is to it.
“When does Pam join you?”
Max looks down. “I don’t know that she will.”
Maggie remains silent. Wonders why she’s suddenly aware of the pulse in her finger pressing against the tablecloth. “Max, I hope nothing is seriously wrong between you two.”
“It’s just that–” He shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain. Besides, you don’t want me unloading on you.”
“You’re not unloading,” Maggie says. “I needed you to listen to me the other night. If you need a shoulder, I’m here for you now.”
After a moment, he speaks in a cheerless voice, “Seems like we’ve been going in separate directions for a long time. She’s against my becoming a commercial airlines pilot. I’d be away from home a lot. She prefers I keep my ownership in the pharmacy and not shake the status quo. But it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
“It seems like Pam would understand that if you really explained it to her.”
“I’ve tried. It’s not just that, though. You know, we were married while I was still in college. I was an ROTC guy. After graduation I attended air force flight school in Lubbock. Flew a jet in Nam the last year of the war. The things I experienced during that time changed me a lot, Maggie. Gave me a perspective on what’s important in life. Pam wanted the society thing, the garden parties and so forth. Which is fine. It’s what my parents did, what I did after we were married. It’s just not for me anymore. I don’t want to wake up one day when it’s too late and realize I passed up the chance to do what I really wanted in life.”
“Do you still love her?” Maggie’s surprised at the presumptuousness of her question.
“It’s not just a matter of love, Maggie. Some types of love can be selfish and destructive. (God, how true! Maggie thinks.) But I do believe I love Pam. It just takes more than that. I don’t know. Things might work out for us. I need to get away for a while and think it through.”
He looks at his watch. “You’re going to be late getting back to work. See, I told you not to let me unload.”
He takes some bills from his wallet and lays them on the table, then helps Maggie slip into her coat. Outside, he opens the door of her car and Maggie slides in and rolls down the window. In the backdrop of sky framing his face are high snow clouds. Cirrostratus she seems to remember from somewhere. Snow clouds that don’t snow on the Coast. Random thoughts bombard her, as if her mind is instinctively trying to lessen the pain of this final goodbye. Frustrated, she can think of absolutely nothing to say suited to the occasion.
Max breaks the silence. “I’ll have a couple of hours free time early Sunday afternoon. I could stop by your place.”
The penetrating blue eyes have a softness in them. And a sadness. Maybe he does feel for her what she feels for him. She looks down, fingers the steering wheel uncertainly. Finally, she says with effort, “Max, you’d better not.” She looks back at him, trying to gather strength in case he presses her.
His gaze doesn’t leave her. Only a slight shift of the brows changes his expression. Then he smiles. “I understand how you feel,” he says.
He leans into the car window and kisses her lips lightly, too quickly for her to respond. Then he squeezes her hand without looking at her and turns away. She looks up and watches the slope of his shoulders shift with his steps. Tears well in her eyes. The one man she could give herself to fully is going out of her life, probably for good, and she can’t call him back and tell him how much she really wants him.
#
Maggie tries to push thoughts of Max away for the rest of the afternoon at work. It’s been a long hard week in more ways than one, and she’s never been more relieved when closing time comes around.
When she turns into her parents’ driveway to pick up Wendy, she notices a familiar-looking car parked at the curb on the opposite side of the street. With a sudden clutch of fear she realizes it’s Perry’s. Her parents’ car is in the driveway, which means they’re home. And that means Wendy’s there, too. The Gremlin jerks and throws her forward in the seat when her foot hits the break too hard. She clambers out and rushes through the kitchen door. She stops cold at the entrance to the den. Perry’s sitting on the sofa with Wendy on his lap. Her parents, in their usual chairs, look up with calm expressions.
Wendy’s looking at her with big, happy eyes and a grin. “Mommy, Daddy’s here!”
Perry wears a thin smile, looking as uncertain as she’s sure she looks. For a moment, no one says anything. Then Perry says in a limp voice, “Hi, honey.”
“Hello,” she hears herself say, but the voice is unfamiliar.
Her mother is up and taking Maggie’s arm, nudging her back into the kitchen. “He came to the door about an hour ago,” she explains. “Said he just got in from Kentucky. Wendy saw him first and before I knew it she was in his arms. I didn’t see the need to cause a scene in front of her, so we just let him in. He’s been acting perfectly harmless.”
“So far.” Maggie puts a hand to her forehead and rubs it, trying to gather her wits. “What will I do if he tries to leave with her?”
“You’ll notice your father’s chair is near the closet. And he can get his shotgun in an–“
Maggie frowns away the possibility. “Mom! No guns. My daughter’s in there.”
“I was just trying to make you feel more secure. We will not allow him to leave this house with Wendy,” she says with finality.
“Maybe I’m over-reacting,” Maggie says, taking a deep breath to relieve the tension she’s feeling. “Will you and Dad take Wendy out back to the swing for a few minutes so I can talk to him alone?”
Her mother squeezes her arm. “I’ll get Wendy’s coat.”
Now they’re alone in the den together. Perry speaks first. “I’m not here to cause any trouble, Maggie. I came to see my little girl. And you.” His eyes are innocent and earnest.
Maggie notices he’s lost weight–not a significant amount–but enough to make his eyes look a little more sunk, his cheekbones more pronounced. Not altogether unflattering.
“Why didn’t you wait until you were invited?” she asks apprehensively.
His hands twitch in his lap. He turns his eyes away. “I miss you–both of you. When were you planning to invite me?” His eyes meet hers again.
“You weren’t this nice when you threatened to come and take Wendy the other night on the phone.”
“Don’t make me beg, Maggie, please.”
Maggie softens in spite of her effort to be firm. “What are your plans?”
“Just to stay in town over the weekend. I got a room at the Ramada. I wanted to see Wendy. Hoped to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Maggie, why are you giving me the third degree? I’m your husband. You know what I want to talk about.”
“The way you acted the other night on the phone. The way you behaved toward the end in Kentucky. You haven’t been acting like a husband, Perry.”
“I know. But I can do better. I just need another chance.”
“I’ll call you at the motel tomorrow and we’ll talk. You’d better leave for now.”
“Can I say bye to Wendy?”
Maggie nods resignedly. He goes out the back door and Maggie stands at the window in front of the kitchen sink and watches Wendy run up and jump into his arms giggling, with the happiest expression she’s had in weeks. Crazy about him. Always was. Why are things becoming more confusing just when she’s starting to sort them out?
He leaves without incident, but only after promising Wendy he would spend time with her this weekend. Maggie asks her parents to keep Wendy overnight so that she could have time to think. She tells them both in a firm voice: “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
#
It’s dark when Maggie arrives back at her apartment. She sees the green Chevrolet–an older model Impala–parked in front of the other duplex unit. The U-Haul is gone. The curtain on the front window of the apartment is drawn and illuminated by an inside light. She’d hoped a family with a child close to Wendy’s age had moved in, but there are no toys or tricycle in view. God, please let it be someone pleasant, she thinks. I need pleasant.
Once inside, the first thing she does is pour herself a drink–straight J&B over ice. She sits on the sofa and swallows her first sip gratefully, feeling the tension begin to drain with the first warm flow of the liquid within her. She pushes her shoes off and leans back and closes her eyes. After finishing her drink, she lays down on the sofa, hoping to succumb to sleep. The intrusive ring of the phone causes her to start, jerking her out of a dream about–she can’t quite remember. She has the phone to her ear in time to prevent the third ring.
It’s Perry. He asks if he can come over.
“For what?” she asks quickly. “Wendy’s not here.”
“Can’t I come over to see my wife?”
She shakes her head. The scotch has dulled her mind. Else, she asks herself, why does she say yes? When she puts the phone down, she knows why: She longs to see Perry–but not the Perry that’s coming over now. She still hopes against hope that he can make the journey back to the old Perry.
He’s there in fifteen minutes. She takes his coat and asks if he wants a drink.
“No thanks. The doctor said to avoid alcohol while I’m on my medication.”
That’s a start, she thinks, if he’s back on medication and can follow the doctor’s instructions.
He sits in the recliner, she on the sofa.
“Have you been eating like you should?” she asks.
“My weight you mean? My appetite’s not what it was. And I don’t get home cooking like before.” He shrugs. “You look beautiful as always,” he says with a smile.
His all-American smile is still there, she thinks, feeling a sudden warmth pass through her. “Have you had supper?” she asks, more to change the subject than anything else, then realizes she hasn’t eaten herself.
He shakes his head. “I was thinking you might like to step out for a bite.”
“I’m really too tired. Could you eat a couple of eggs if I fixed them here?”
“You know I’ve always liked eggs for supper.”
So she does, on second thought. She wonders if that’s why it’s the first thing that came to mind.
Perry makes pleasant small talk while she scrambles a batch of eggs. She fries bacon in a separate skillet. Perry puts bread in the toaster and butters the toast. They eat, and Maggie’s thinking they really are getting along well. Very well. But then they always got along well in portions–the portions just kept shrinking. Perry catches her gaze and holds it for a moment with his ever winsome brown bedroom eyes, and she feels the incipient urge of physical attraction. Don’t be a fool, she thinks. But she can’t help wondering if his personality is not the only thing that’s improved since they were last together in that way.
Maggie clears the table and begins rinsing the dishes. Perry goes into the den. As she finishes up, she hears the voice of Melissa Manchester singing softly. She enters the den quietly and sits on the sofa. Perry comes over and sits beside her.
“I put one of your records on. Hope it’s okay.”
He didn’t ask if it was okay to turn the overhead light off, which he’s done also. She tries to think of something to say. All she can come up with is, “Perry, I don’t know if this a good idea.” She deliberately avoids meeting his eyes.
“If what’s a good idea?”
She looks up in exasperation and his face is only inches away. She smells the familiar after shave. Sees the familiar angle of the jaw and chin. Dark brown hair. The eyes reflecting a long ago passion. His face moves closer, slowly.
“Perry, please.” But her eyes don’t leave his.
His cheek brushes against hers. He says softly, “Don’t you feel what I feel? Want what I want? It’s been so long.”
She remembers the last two times he’d tried to make love to her–how it had ended in humiliation for him. He’d been unable to perform. Their sex life had been deteriorating slowly, but he’d never had that problem before then. He was crushed all the more because he knew he’d once been a superior lover. She had tried to be understanding. She blamed it on his medication, a side effect. He was inconsolable. He hadn’t touched her since, like that.
She doesn’t know what might happen if he fails again. But she senses his need to feel like a man again and that the last thing he needs now is rejection. Perhaps she should have spoken up before, prevented it from going even this far. Admit it, she says to herself. You miss it, too. It’s true. She feels the desire returning.
The second time his lips press against hers, she responds lightly. Then she draws back and regards him for a moment. She’s giving him an out if he wants it. But his eyes keep saying this is what he wants.
She gets up wordlessly and walks slowly into the bedroom. He follows. The first shuffles are made with averted eyes. Soon, they lie naked together and Perry seems to regain his lost self-confidence as Maggie responds to the familiar touches, feels the dormant longings returning like an ember rekindled to flame.
He’s on top of her, now slowing down, then hastening–at just the right moments. The pleasure mounts, the fire grows brighter, to white-hot, then, moving in synchrony, their bodies quench it as one. She looks at Perry and squeezes his arm. Sees a measure of the self-esteem once mirrored in those eyes returning.
Then the reality hits her. She must not let him expect this to correct all the wrongs. Sex is only one part of it. And this is just one apple in that barrel.
“This doesn’t change things,” she says gently.
He starts to speak, then hesitates. “I know,” he says finally. “But can’t it be a start?”
Why not? she thinks, if this can somehow motivate his efforts to get better. She should certainly not chance underestimating its effect on him.
“Yes,” she says in an even voice. “It can be a start, Perry.”
His head moves to touch hers. She feels a drop of warm fluid on her cheek. “I love you,” he says in a tiny voice. They lie together in contented but awkward silence for a long while.
Maggie slips into her robe and goes into the den. There’s no reason not to let Perry spend the night if he wants, she thinks. As she turns off the record player, there’s a knock at the door. She turns on the porch light and opens the door as far as the lock chain allows. A bespectacled, bearded face peers back shyly at her.
“Sorry if I disturbed you. I just moved in next door and wonder if you might have an extra light bulb I could borrow? Just till tomorrow,” he adds quickly.
She looks past him to his front door, ajar enough to see the light through the crack. Light bulb? She looks at him quizzically.
“I know this sounds silly,” he says, “but the bulb in my desk lamp conked out and I’m working on something important.”
“I think I’ve got an extra bulb,” she says and opens the door. “Come in.”
“I know you’re probably wary about letting a stranger in. I promise I’m harmless,” he chuckles.
She smiles limply and goes to the kitchen pantry. “All I’ve got is a 40-watt,” she says from the kitchen.
“That will do fine,” he says.
When she returns, he’s still standing by the door looking stiff and uncomfortable. He’s slim, medium height, cute in a scholarly sort of way, she thinks. He smiles gratefully when she hands him the bulb.
“Thank you.” He starts to turn away, then looks back. “I could have taken the bulb out of my overhead light, I guess, but then I’d have to put it back in if I–” He seems flustered.
“That’s okay,” she says in a pleasant tone. “I understand. Nice to meet you. I’m Maggie.”
He holds out his hand. “I’m Danny McGowan.”
“Just come knock if there’s anything else I can do to help you get situated. Bye.” Reminds her of an absent-minded professor, but much younger. She guesses in his late twenties.
When she turns from the door, Perry is standing in the hallway in his jockey shorts. He looks at her with an odd intensity.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“My new neighbor. First time I’ve seen him.”
“What did he want?”
“Just a light bulb.” Maggie walks back toward the bedroom, but Perry is blocking her way. He doesn’t move.
“You let a complete stranger in at this hour–dressed like you are?”
“Yes,” Maggie says, looking up at him. “You were here.”
“What if I hadn’t been here?”
“Then, I guess, I might not have let him come in.”
“Or you might have.”
“Yes. I might have,” she says with an edge of irritation to her voice.
“I’m only trying to protect you,” he says.
She looks at him squarely. “Perry, I’m a big girl. I can use my own judgment.”
“You say that, but can’t you see? Do you really believe all that guy wanted was a light bulb?”
She breathes deeply, trying to remain calm. “That’s all he got.”
“He must have realized I was here. Saw my coat on the chair.”
She remains silent. Head down.
“Most other women would have just said they didn’t have a light bulb and sent him on his way. Why do you have to be so goddam friendly?”
This is getting zany, she thinks. Just like all the other times. She looks at him and speaks slowly, evenly. “I think we’ve been through this before.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. “You’re thinking that I’m thinking abnormally.” His eyes have a kind of wildness in them. “Well, dammit, how come the way you think can never be abnormal? Sometimes, I’m normal and you’re abnormal. Isn’t that possible? Every once in a while?”
“Let me pass, please,” Maggie says.
“Not till you admit I can be right and you can be wrong.”
“Okay. I admit it,” she says. “You’re right and I’m wrong.”
“You say it but you don’t mean it.” His fists come up on either side of his head and press against his temples. “Why do you provoke me like this?”
Maggie steps to one side trying to get through the hall. He catches her by the arm and shoves her into the opposite wall. It knocks her breath out but she keeps her footing and continues on into the bedroom and locks the door.
He bangs on the door and shouts. “Damn you, Maggie! Can’t you see how you are! You’re the crazy one. Not me!”
She starts to cry. It’s the same old story. Why did she let herself believe any differently? “Go away, Perry. Please just go away. We’ll talk again later.”
Maggie hears the front door slam. How strange, she reflects, that the moment of deepest closeness could be followed so quickly by the moment of greatest distance. She realizes he can’t be any different. Something’s snapped in his head and the medication is not making it any better. She feels sorry for him but she’s determined not to let him drag her and Wendy down into his mental chaos. If she could help him it would be different. She’s tried. She knows that she’s gone to the limit with him and it hasn’t changed things. If anything, being around her makes him worse. His condition seems to feed on her when they’re together. It’s as if their relationship had slipped through a one-way sieve, and what was past had become irretrievable. Soon, she must start divorce proceedings.
She does not tell Perry this when he calls her back later that night, repentant and begging for forgiveness. She won’t risk pushing him over the brink; he might try taking his life again. Later, when he’s back in Kentucky, she’ll ask his psychiatrist for help in telling him that it’s over for good between them and for him to start a new life without her and Wendy.
What Maggie does now is reassure him, forgive him, and console him–she gives him what he needs, like a child. She also tells him he cannot see Wendy again this time. She would not chance something happening to her daughter. Wendy’s the only anchor she has these days. When she hangs up the phone Perry is sobbing.
It has not been a marvelous day for her. Two men, one she’s loved and another she could love, have gone out of her life today. Maggie tries to be strong, but when she lays her head down on the pillow that night, she cries too.