Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [38]
“Jack?” He looks at me, and I must say, I love that look. He gives of himself completely when he listens. (I don’t think I do that.) “I guess I thought when we got married, since I had gone for so long without love in my life, that everything would be perfect. That because I had waited, time had made this perfect bubble, and you and I would climb in and float till we were old and died in each other’s arms.”
“Come on.” Jack smiles and shakes his head.
“No, really. I did. I thought since I had been sad for so long, let’s say for the first half of my life, that once I opened my heart, it would be beautiful and wonderful and … easy. So maybe what we have here is my unmet expectations biting us on the ass.”
“What made you think it was going to be easy?”
“I believed the hard part was finding love.”
“You didn’t find me; you decided you deserved it.”
“Do you think?” I sit up.
“Yeah.”
“What about you?”
“I knew what we were in for.”
“Am I that bad?”
“No, you’re not bad. Not at all. You just don’t think of me first.”
I want to disagree with him, but I know he’s right.
“You’re not happy, Ave.”
“I am. Sometimes.”
“When was the last time you were truly happy? Be honest.”
“January fifteenth, 1983. You made chili. It was snowing. Remember? You and me and Etta and Joe baked a chocolate cake. We drew a snowman in the icing. And we played Go Fish. And we laughed all night.”
Jack sits quietly for a while; I can see he remembers Chili Night, and for a moment I cannot imagine that we won’t work out our problems and be happy again. I am about to tell him this when he interrupts my thoughts. “He’s gone, honey. But you and me and Etta. We’re still here.”
“I know.”
“We matter.”
Jack says this simply, and I know it’s true. But it just makes me feel like a bigger failure. My mother was surely the center of my life and our family life, and here in my little family, I have let everybody down. I have a husband who feels rejected and a daughter who can’t really be happy because she can’t be herself and her brother too. She cannot fill that void. But she tries. Maybe that’s what we’ve become, the three of us. We’re trying to fill the space left by Joe and none of us are successful, and the harder we try, the bigger the void becomes.
“Ave?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to sleep in this room again, are you?”
For a second, I want to tell Jack about The Dream, but I can’t. Instead, I tell him, “No. I want to be with you.” I take his hand and lead him down the stairs. Sometimes, even when I’m failing, I do the right thing.
CHAPTER FOUR
Iva Lou and I sit on the old stone bench outside the Slemp Library, eating lunch. We’re bundled up; it’s an overcast late November day, but we need the fresh air. Besides, we have the entire winter to cram into Iva Lou’s tiny office for our weekly get-togethers. The bench is a low, wide half-moon of blue slate resting on ornate concrete pedestals. It faces an old fountain, a series of jagged fieldstone steps stacked delicately up a low hill. At the top, brass cardinals hold a pitcher from which water cascades down rocks covered in green velvet moss. When it reaches the bottom, the water flows into a small triangular pool filled with pennies. It’s a romantic place, hidden by poplar trees. At night it’s a make-out spot for teenagers. Young lovers have thrown their pennies in the pool (lots of them), hoping their luck will last.
Delphine Moses made us meatball heroes. Iva Lou peels the tin foil down the sides of the long bun like a banana.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Iva Lou asks me as she takes a bite.
“I’m not hungry.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Jack and me.”
“What happened?”
“He’s mad at me because I took on managing the Pharmacy without asking him.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?” Iva Lou takes a swig of Coke.
Iva Lou asks me this