Chapter 17: Two trips home

Wallet, car keys, key to the condo, what else? Should I change clothes? No, I'm ready to go. What was keeping me? Something was drawing me to the doors leading to the balcony. How many times had I looked down at the pool, the garage, the rolling lawn, and the tree line beyond? What had gone through my mind that day I awoke in July 1985, and looked down at my surroundings? The water looked inviting then, and it looks inviting now.

One shoe hit the floor before I got to the door, the other one came off in the hall, followed by my shirt and pants on the stairs, one sock in the front foyer, the other one as I was passing the kitchen, and my shorts fell as I reached the back door.

Bare feet on the walkway, open the gate, bare feet on the grass, bare feet on the apron, splash, DAMN!, go back, no, it would take too long to turn in the water, swim, Damn it, cross to the other side, DAMN!, what was I thinking?

Grab the side of the pool, push up, DAMN! What happened to my balls? They've disappeared. Run, did I lock the door? Stop laughing; it's ridiculous, but not funny. Good, it's unlocked. Run, down the hall, up the stairs, run, damn it, in the room, bathroom, grab a towel, rub, create friction, collect moisture, grab another towel, DAMN! That water was cold! Idiot, this is April, not July.

I was using the second towel to dry my hair as I dialed the number. Penelope answered.

"Hi, just checking to see if you arrived safely?"

"Sammy, we're here. Do you want to speak to Suzanne? She's in the pool, but I can put her on the phone if..."

"That's okay, Penelope. I was just..."

"Sammy, I left meals for you in the freezer, and Irene will be stopping by to tidy up."

"Really, Penelope, have you forgotten that I attended a military high school. I learned how to make my own bed."

"I heard you have the key to the condo. Leave her a note if she needs to change the beds and run the vacuum."

"I won't be using the condo."

"Oh ... Say hello to Jane for me, and have a safe trip home."

"Thanks, Penelope," I said, and hung up without telling her that I was already home, and had gone for a swim.

My cock was still shriveled up, and my balls were like marbles, as I stepped into sweatpants, sweat sox, and pulled a sweatshirt over my head.

Mrs. Harvey answered, and for a second, I thought the line had been cut when she heard that it was me asking to speak to her daughter.

"She's getting ready for a date," she informed me in a cold, austere voice.

What time was it, six-thirty, or maybe seven? Was it a dinner date? "Please tell her I called," I said, and heard a gruff, but affirmative reply.

There were water spots in the hall, on the stairs, and all the way to the back door. I found a mop and picked up the water along with my abandoned clothing.

Why had I gotten the urge to jump in the water? Moreover, why had I changed my mind about taking Sophie to the condo? In the back of my mind was Karen's voice. Did I put too much stock in her words, 'play with me'? Was there really hidden meaning, or was it wishful thinking on my part?

I put the mop away, and took the clothes upstairs to discover that my phone was ringing.

"Sammy, did you call me?"

"It's not important, Kelley. Your mom said you were getting ready for a date."

"What's not important? I'll call Danny. He will understand."

Danny, was she talking about the guy who had taken her cherry? "You seemed anxious to have the earring back. I can put it in the mail or you could..."

"I'll pick it up. Is it all right if I come to your house?"

"That's what I had in mind."

"Give me ... I'll be there in thirty minutes," she said, and was gone before I could tell her okay.

I opened the freezer and looked at the array of meals Penelope had left for me. Not wanting to defrost anything, I opted for scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of milk. I ate quickly, and was placing my dishes in the dishwasher when I heard the back door open.

Kelley was dressed for spring, in white Capris, a green sweater, matching sneakers, and a tweed riding jacket with leather patches on the elbows.

"You cut your hair!"

"Do you like it?"

I wasn't sure if I liked it cut short or not. Only last week I had admired her shoulder length hair. It was her most distinguishing feature. She was the only redhead I'd ever dated. "Yes," I said, without elaborating.

She took a step back to look into the sun room. "Are your parents out?"

"They're away. Is your date ... is Danny waiting in the car? You could have brought him in."

Kelley swung around, and I saw a slight grin come to her lips as she absorbed the knowledge that my parents were not here. "He's ... I cancelled."

"Well, let me get the earring. It will only take a second."

I was halfway to the stairs when I turned to see her following me. She must have seen my surprise. "Sammy, I've seen your room before."

She caught up with me when I reached the top of the stairs and walked with me to the room. I went directly to the desk, and when I turned, she was looking around the room, reacquainting herself with the layout, I suppose. Other than the two towels I'd used to dry myself, and the bundle of clothes I'd picked up, the room was in fairly decent order.

I offered the earring to her, and she closed the distance between us to accept it. She didn't thank me or explain how she'd lost it, not that I expected her to. The way she was watching me made me nervous. What did she want?

"Are you hungry?" I asked, thinking that she'd cancelled a dinner date to come after the earring.

"Thank you, but I ate earlier," she said, still watching me closely.

"Shall we go back downstairs?"

"Sammy, I made one mistake, and you've treated me like a criminal. That crack you made about the photographer was cruel. You're not blameless, you know."

"I know, Kelley, it was insensitive of me to bring up the photographer. I apologize."

She disregarded my apology, probably knowing I was not being sincere. "You lied to me. You led me to believe that I was number twenty-five on your list."

"It was an oversight, Kelley. You wanted the list, and I supplied it without checking it over the way I should have. Tammy completely slipped my mind."

"Are you keeping your list up to date? How many have there been since me?"

Her line of questioning was beginning to irritate me. "What do you want, Kelley?"

"I want to know what number I would be if we ... you know ... we fuck again. I've heard that you took up with that older women in Florida, and I know that you lived with Mrs. Collingsworth, so that would make me number twenty-nine?" she asked.

I would have laughed if she hadn't sounded perfectly serious. "Adeline was number twenty-seven; Cynthia was number twenty-nine. Megan Freeman was in between them."

Kelley didn't blink. "Oh yes, Megan, I knew you would get around to plucking her. That means I'll be number thirty, right?"

"It doesn't work that way, Kelley."

"It doesn't? Don't tell me there's already been a thirty."

"Let me explain it this way. If I check a book out of the library, and return it before I finish reading it, and I read three other books before I check out the first book again, it's still the same book. It doesn't change."

Kelley's dimple became indented more than usual as she pondered my analogy. She edged her body against me. I felt her breasts touch my chest, and her lips were not two inches from mine. "Admit it, Sammy. We're just alike. You know the score. When we see something we want, we take it. I'm not asking you to marry me. You can keep your number thirty, too. I'm already engaged. Finish me, Sammy. You'll like the ending."

I must admit that I was tempted. Her thighs were doing wonders for my shriveled up cock. The vision of her naked body in the hammock became clouded by the Seattle photographer sweet talking her into his bed.

What was happening to me? Why couldn't I look beyond questionable behavior? For the second time in three hours, I was taking a pass. Don't be cruel. Let her down easy.

"You're engaged? Who's the lucky guy?"

She took a step backward, seemingly shocked that I hadn't put my arms around her and sucked her tongue between my lips.

"You haven't changed. You're still the despicable person I once loved and gave myself to, without expecting anything in return."

She took another step backward, obviously surprised at my placid demeanor. It occurred to me that for the second Saturday night in a row, I was letting a female attempt to discredit me without retaliating.

"Who's the lucky guy?" I repeated.

She was out the door and half way to the stairs when I heard, "It's Danny, of course. It's always been Danny. He's the only man that understands me."

I could have corrected her. "Danny's the only man that takes your crap," but I remained silent and went to the far end of the room to watch her get in her car and drive away.

I dreamed of Kelley's slim, swimmer's body, pale green eyes, short red hair, and the dimple in her left cheek for the next three nights. Every time I remembered the time she told me to, 'fuck my tits, ' I ridiculed myself with every deprecating name I could think of.

It was only when I was reminded of something she'd once said; "You require that we're sexually compatible. I'm willing to prove to you that I'm lights-out in bed. At the same time, I demand unconditional love and faithfulness," that I knew that taking a pass was my only option. I'd been faithful; she was the one that had not.

The closest I came to laughing was when I called Marcie on Sunday. Su Ling answered and we chatted for a couple of minutes.

"Sammy, have you heard what happens when you eat a Chinese girl?"

I'd heard the joke, but I said 'no' so she would have to tell it.

"You're hungry thirty minutes later," she said.

"Maybe you can teach me to use chopsticks sometime?"

"You didn't get it. You don't use chopsticks, Silly. Here's Marcie, she'll explain it to you."

Marcie knew I had something on my mind as soon as she came on the line. She laughed at my library book analogy, and hearing her laugh made me chuckle.

"I can't wait to tell Su Ling," she said.

"Can you tone it down a bit? Number thirty makes it sound like I'm addicted to sexual encounters."

"Okay, Tiger, how's twenty?" she asked, and I told her that sounded better.

At the Monday morning staff meeting, I called upon Ruby to give the executives an overview of the upcoming sales meeting. She stressed all the points that we'd gone over, the vast amount of material to be presented, what we hoped to achieve, and the importance of maintaining a rigid schedule. I don't know if her audience absorbed the points she was making, but she certainly held their attention.

Wanda gave me a questioning look when I told her that I would be occupying my dad's office. "It's a matter of convenience. Ruby and I will be consulting on the sales meeting," I explained.

"It's not fair. She gets to use Suzanne's office, and I have to stay here," she complained, but she brightened when I told her Ruby would be leaving for Florida on Thursday.

"You can have Suzanne's office for those two days," I said.

Stepping into John Oldham's shoes was more difficult than I'd imagined. Making decisions, answering questions, and settling squabbles among employees was no problem. It was the business acquaintances, friends, and partners that I had trouble with. Hearing Stacy answer John's phone, advise the caller that he was away, but that his son was here, followed by a short pause while she listened to their question, and hearing her give the caller the telephone number where Mr. Oldham could be reached, gave me a feeling of inadequacy that I'd never experienced before.

On the rare occasions when the caller said they would talk to me, I got the impression that they were testing me with ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with our business.

On Tuesday, I asked Stacy if John had told her to give out the Florida number.

"Yes, he did," she said, adding, "Suzanne is also taking calls."

On Thursday, I took Ruby to the airport and returned to the office to find that Wanda had installed herself in Suzanne's office. After being asked by a caller if I was really John Oldham's son, I told Stacy to stop telling callers that I was available to speak to them. Later that same day, Tom Collingsworth called to ask me to stop by his office on my way home. It was quite late before I was ready to leave for the day, and I told Tom that I was surprised to find him still at work.

He laughed, and said that with Cynthia out, everything fell on his shoulders.

"How is she?" I asked, already wishing that I'd kept my mouth shut.

"She's much better. We're hoping that she'll be able to return to work on Monday."

"That's good. I guess you heard that I moved back home?"

"Daisy told us about the scene Cynthia made at the party. You were justified in leaving, Sammy."

"Justified? She told me to get out," I said, with more irritation in my voice than I'd intended to show.

"Well ... yes, I know, anyway, she sent these things to you," he said, handing me the travel bag Cynthia had confiscated."

He started to tell me that she felt badly about the way she had treated me, but I wasn't interested in listening. I thanked him, and went home to find that Irene had been there. She had placed a letter from Heather on my desk. It only took her three sentences to tell me that my trip home had been ineffective. According to her, I had not stayed long enough to solve their problem. I translated her complaint to mean that I hadn't written a check. She knew that I was coming. Why hadn't she been at home? K.O. was her kid. Why was it our mother's responsibility to take care of him? Why was it my duty to solve her problem?

The travel bag contained my suit, shirt, tie, shaving kit, and running shoes. Remembering that Margaret had pressed my suit and shirt meant that Cynthia had repacked the bag. Should I send her a note to thank her for returning my stuff? Hell no, it was my stuff. She owed me an apology for trying to humiliate me at the Reapers' meeting. She was the reason I drew strange looks for being unshaven, and wearing jeans, a sweater, and sneakers that night.

Wanda recognized that I was upset about something the minute she saw me, and I found myself telling her about my sister's ability to send me into guilt hell. I went so far as to tell her that I'd always credited Heather with my own good fortune. If I hadn't come home to find her being raped by our mother's boyfriend, I would not have been sent to live with Mr. Oldham.

"She's after more money. That's what this is about. I should never have let her get by with stealing from me," I lamented.

"You have to make another trip, but this time, make sure she's there," Wanda said.

"I'm picking Ruby up at the airport, and..." I stopped short of telling her that I wanted to attend Karen's softball practice.

"I'll pick Ruby up," she said, and that freed me to make another trip home.

I called my mom and asked her to make sure Heather was available for a short meeting the following morning. "If she won't live up to her responsibilities, we'll have to do something so you can return to work. Do you know of a babysitter we can hire?" I asked, and she said she had a responsible person in mind.

"I'm glad you are coming. I hope you'll be able to explain to K.O. that he mustn't kick that ball you gave him in the house," she said.

Before we left for the day, we made sure the two offices were left in the same condition we'd found them. Wanda switched our phones back to our offices, and asked if I wanted to send the Baltimore package to the partners. My recommendation to purchase the building had been ready to go out for days, and I felt that my case was strong, but when it came down to pulling the cord, I couldn't do it. Something was missing, and I decided to take another few days to find out what it was.