And Yesterday Is Gone (34 page)

“I'll go home when I please. Why don't you mind your own business.” I had the pleasure of seeing his face flush.

The little redhead said, “Say, honey, I'll take you home and we can stop at my apartment for a nightcap. I'm just going off shift.”

“Good idea,” I slurred as I tried to get upright.

I hung on to the bar, slid off the stool and got both my feet headed in the same direction. She put her arm through mine and we made a couple of false starts toward the doorway.

Juan caught up to us there, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I tried to move, but the three of us seemed stuck in the entry.

“C'mon, sweetheart, don't stay mad just because we had a little disagreement,” he said as he planted his lips on my cheek.

I tried to push him away, but I was held mostly vertical by the girl, the doorjamb, and now his arms around my waist holding me tight.

“You know you and I go back a long way, sweetie. What would we do without each other? Let's go home and get some sleep. I'll even make you breakfast in bed.”

The girl looked from one of us to the other, then realization dawned. “You're gay,” she exclaimed.

“Honey,” Juan laughed, “we are so gay we are probably the happiest men you'll ever know.”

In a second, she had untangled herself from my arm. Without her support, I started to fall. Only Juan's arms kept me upright.

Struggling to regain my balance and free my arm so that I could take a swing at him, I finally got one arm to respond and swung a haymaker, which he merely pushed away with his hand. Then my legs betrayed me and I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Picking me up, Juan flung me over his shoulder, stuffed me into the car and took me home.

I woke up slouched down in our big chair and managed to call J.W. I told him not to stop the presses because I had food poisoning. His response to that bit of information was ominous.

“You had better make me believe that or I may reconsider the raise I gave you a few months ago.”

Rica was outraged and not speaking to me. She took Billy and the car keys and was gone all day, completely ignoring my sudden close relationship with the commode. She remarked unsympathetically, “You may as well say your prayers; you're in the right position.”

I was going to remind her of that part of our wedding vows that said “in sickness and in health,” but she was already out the door.

For the next few days, I worked overtime. Just as well; it seemed that I was an outcast in my own home.

Finally, after days of solitude and dinners of tacos and beans, the silence was broken. Shattered, really, with Rica's shocking statement.

“I've bought a house with a yard.”

I choked and coughed until the prospect of widowhood entered her mind and she gave me a glass of water. When speech returned, I spoke furiously, only a few octaves below the mating call of a bull alligator.

“You can't be telling me you've spent our savings on a house I've never even seen or we've even discussed. You
can't
be telling me that.”

I stood so suddenly from the table that a plate splattered to the floor.

With a voice as cold as an Arctic glacier, Rica said, “Sit down, Cowboy. I'm in the saddle. I'll lead you to water and if you don't drink, you'll die of thirst. I'm moving and you're sure going to get thirsty in that tent.

“Yes, I bought a house from an old lady who recently acquired it, but then decided she didn't want to move. The payment is the same as our rent and there is no due date on the deed.”

In my mind, a tiny seed of suspicion sprouted.

“Where is this house?”

“Telegraph Hill.”

“Does it happen to have five bedrooms?”

“No, four bedrooms and a library.”

“I guess Juan wants to see me sleep in a tent.”

“Juan has no part in this. It was put together by myself, with your mother's encouragement, and Sara Rafferty.”

“How did Sara come by this property?” I asked.

“Juan said that he had no use for it and gave it to her to do with it what she pleased.”

“And she was pleased to sell it to you with such incredibly generous terms?” I asked, not without sarcasm.

“Yes, and your mother offered to make a down payment, which was refused. Mamá Sara suggested that the monthly payment be put in a special account for Billy's college.”

Apparently, I had been bested by three women. Three women whom I loved.

But in my heart, I knew that Juan had made it happen.

With complete disregard for my feelings on the matter, Rica had gone over my head and bought the house—and then dared to give me an ultimatum. I had no choice in either matter—I would move or I would live in a tent.

And how many times had I told her not to call me Cowboy. Who was wearing the pants in this household?

Adding fuel to the flame was the knowledge that Juan had made all this possible. Momentarily, I shuffled his goodness to the back of my mind—even the fact that he had saved my drunken self from disaster only days ago. Then there was my deserter mother.

With my thoughts in a civil war, my anger simmered.

Slowly, the unbidden thought pushed its way into my reluctant brain. Okay, this did seem like a golden opportunity—Ma had said so—that I had brushed aside. I wanted to be angry until it was clear that decisions stopped at my desk first. An apology from Rica might get things into perspective again.

But then the right side of my brain appealed. “Why are you spoiling this for her?” Answering myself, my manly pride shouted, “Because
I
wanted to find the house.
I
wanted to do it.”

•  •  •

The apartment was so quiet; we spoke only when necessary.

Juan's car had not stood at the curb for a week. Billy was irritable and whining, probably cutting a tooth, I lied to myself.

Like the drip of a leaky faucet, the steady knowledge that I had made an ass of myself persisted. Still, my stubborn pride did not know how to put Humpty Dumpty back together again without losing face.

Dr. Teddy solved the problem.

She called me at work. “Let's have lunch, Steve. Meet me at that little café around the corner from my office.”

After a quick hello, we ordered coffee and a sandwich. Then she fired from the hip. “Steve, how long are you going to act like a spoiled child?”

“Dr. Teddy, you sound just like my mother.”

“I've been thinking I should call her,” she replied.

That brought me to my knees.

“Steve, you've put your pride before Rica's happiness. You ought to be proud of your wife. She made a sound decision. Sara has made herself happy in the process. Sara's happiness makes my life complete. I'm sure Rica's happiness is your priority as yours is to her. You and yours are Juan's life—don't hurt him. No one will ever love you more.

“I find it almost impossible to believe that a man of your intelligence would allow macho pride to hold Rica's happiness hostage.”

Surely macho pride doesn't rhyme with manly pride, I thought.

“I love you, Steve. Take off your spurs.”

Driving back to the office, I felt thoroughly chastised. Dr. Teddy had forced me to tell the truth. No stalling, no excuses, just the plain, unvarnished way it was.

I had shattered the happiness that had been Rica's dream—the house that had been given with such love. My foolish pride had stolen her pleasure with the house. I was so ashamed and embarrassed to have made such a fool of myself.

Now, how to make amends?

“Face up to it like a man,” I heard my mother's voice as clearly as if she were standing next to me.

On the way home I fumbled around in a florist shop and chose two dozen long-stemmed roses. As the girl behind the counter wrapped them, she laughed. “Got caught, did ya?” I felt myself blush as red as the roses.

I knocked on the door of our apartment.
She will probably tell me to go to my tent. Then what will I do with all these damn flowers?

I knocked again and the door opened. Rica looked at the flowers, then up at my face, then threw her arms around my neck.

The flowers fell to the ground and I heard them crunch beneath our feet. With my face buried in her hair, I whispered, “I'm so sorry, so ashamed.”

She stopped my words with her kisses. “I love you, Steve. Love you, love you…”

I whirled her around and kissed her every place I could reach.

“Shh, you'll wake Billy.”

“You mean he's actually asleep?” I whispered, disbelieving my good fortune.

She sat down on the bed and pulled off her shoes.

“Sound asleep,” she said as she held out her arms.

•  •  •

The phone finally woke all of us.

It was Sara. “Mrs. Mackey has made a soufflé like no other. Please come over. Let's see if it's as good as she says.”

Sara met Rica and Billy at the big door in front, but I made a dash for the back entrance and bounded up the stairs to Juan's apartment. I pushed open the door to the room and found it empty, then opened the door to his studio. There he stood, holding a paintbrush and looking surprised. He reached his hand out in welcome.

I pushed his hand aside. “Juan, I'm so sorry,” I mumbled as I hugged him with both arms around his waist until he grunted.

He laughed and held me off saying, “You weren't nearly this affectionate the last time I saw you.”

I had the decency to feel that prick of conscience for the ugly things I had said to him then. Trying to speak again, Juan stopped me, holding up his hand.

“Don't say it. Don't tell me something I already know.

“Let me tell you about this house situation. Of course, I wanted you to have it. It's perfect for you both—and close to me.” He smiled. “But how to go about it? I know your stubborn pride. Rica went to Mamá Sara in tears about her stubborn husband. Her heart was broken and she was angry with you. At that time, Mamá Sara turned to me and asked me if that house wasn't actually hers. I told her that, of course, it was—because how could I refuse her anything? Then she put her arms around Rica and told her not to cry, that she would deed the house over to her tomorrow and everyone will be happy. She added that Steve may find that ‘pride goeth before a fall.'

“So…exit Juan and Steve—we're in the clear.”

I had to laugh. We'd both been outwitted. And when I allowed myself to think about that lovely big house, I knew it would be perfect and that we'd never leave it, nor would we forget the generous gift.

When Juan and I walked out, the company below looked up to see us—both tall, but there the resemblance ended. He so dark, so graceful; me, blond and broad. A study in contrasts.

We moved as one down the wide, curving stairway, his one hand sliding lightly on the bannister, the other on my shoulder. The love that was manifested between us was the same, only different.

It was a wonderful occasion, a family reunion of sorts. Rica and Mamá Sara, their heads together, enthusiastically reviewed the plans for the new house as their food grew cold.

“Of course, it will be repainted…”

“The floors are worn and should be replaced…”

Juan reminded them not to forget about the plumbing fixtures.

Dr. Teddy caught my eye.

“Look at all the fun they're having. I can't remember when Sara has enjoyed herself so much. She has never decorated a house before. And look at Rica—she is positively glowing. I love our family.”

Her face lit in a devilish smile. “Steve, you seem so much bigger without your spurs.”

R
ica wore the key to the house on a ribbon around her neck, supposedly for fun, but I knew in her heart that she was dead serious.

At every opportunity, we would bundle up Billy and drive to “our” house. I knew she had generously put my name on the deed.

The workmen were coming soon, but we wanted to have the house to ourselves first. We examined every nook and corner.

Rica discovered a large space behind the bookcase containing many old magazines. I found the wine cellar complete with empty bottles. We roamed from room to room and, even empty and cold, they were beautiful in their spaciousness. So well arranged, they seemed not to be even a foot too large.

In the garage behind the house we found a wealth of Persian carpets, all rolled carefully and covered. Upon Rica's ecstatic examination, they seemed not to have a worn spot anywhere.

I gained my knowledge of carpets from the braided rag rug at the farm, and that was as scant as the ragged rug. Obviously my opinion was not sought after.

Juan said, to Rica's delight, that the carpets had probably cost more than the house.

I got raised eyebrows and amused glances when I asked, “Are you really going to cover those beautiful new floors?”

Rica laughed, answering, “You'd better start shopping for that bearskin rug.”

I gave that some serious thought and concluded that bare floors weren't all that appealing.

•  •  •

I was in my cubicle at the newspaper every day at J.W.'s beck and call and couldn't spend much time at the house.

Acting on the advice of Mr. Carter, Juan kept the various contractors busy at our house. There wasn't much more than cosmetic work to be done, other than the reflooring, so the project moved quickly.

The house started to glow. The musty smell of empty dissipated; instead, the odor of fresh paint that brightened the rooms greeted us when we opened the door.

We settled in more quickly than I could have dreamed. I guess luxury is easy to get accustomed to—I didn't give much thought to the cramped little farmhouse in which I was raised.

The windows sparkled, the floors gleamed. Now it wasn't just a house—it was fast becoming our home.

Sara and Rica had kept a relentless eye on the progress. I'd guess that the workmen sighed with relief when the job was completed.