Confessions
I put Walt’s station wagon away in the garage and closed the doors on it. I set the pad lock and went around to the front of the building to get into the apartment. The time was almost three in the morning. I counted the hours between three and nine. If I allowed one hour to get ready in the morning, I could get five hours of sleep before I’d have to wake up to see Scofield. Five hours wasn’t enough, but I’d functioned on less many times.
Walt’s Special was closed and dark. I wondered if business had been good that night. I wondered if the Firestone inspection had happened yet. I wondered if Owen had been allowed to work his full shift. I wondered what my husband’s mood had been when he went to sleep.
I hoped Walt hadn’t been worried that I wasn’t home, then I hoped he had been worried. If he’d been worried, it meant he still loved me in spite of what he’d said. I unlocked the door and went into the stairwell. I stepped out of my shoes because I planned to climb the stairs quietly in my stocking feet. Walt needed his sleep. I didn’t want to be the reason he missed any of it.
I climbed the stairs into the sitting room. As I got to the top, I noticed the kitchen light was on and there was a pall of cigarette smoke in the air. The scent of smoke threatened to destroy my resolve to give up tobacco. I was badly in need of a cigarette, or a cigar, or a chew.
Walt called me from the kitchen. “Law, is that you?” He asked.
I dropped my shoes in an alcove at the top of the stairs and went into the kitchen. Walt sat red-eyed and exhausted at the head of the table. The coffee percolator kept him company from a cast iron trivet which had rubber feet to protect Walt’s mother’s table. In front of Walt was a half-filled coffee cup, a pack of my cigarettes, a box of matches, and a full ashtray. Walt exhaled smoke and stubbed a burned down cigarette into the tray.
“I was worried.” He said as he crushed the cigarette out. “I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing. We didn’t talk this morning, not about what you’d be doing today or when you’d be home. You didn’t kiss me. I felt…I felt like I used to, back when I lived above your office, and you would disappear on a case and I wouldn’t hear from you for days or weeks. I was worried, and I didn’t know what to do.”
Walt shook another cigarette from the pack and stuck it between his lips. He put the cigarette in the center of his mouth and tried to talk around it while he reached for the box of matches. “I made coffee. Do you want some?”
I approached the table in a few long strides and snatched the unlit cigarette from between Walt’s lips. “What are you doing?” I asked.
Walt answered the words of my question, but not the intent behind it. “I was waiting up for you.”
“No,” I said and held the cigarette up to him, “why are you smoking?”
Walt dropped his eyes to the full ashtray, then returned them to my face. “I don’t want to live without you!” He said. “Today has been horrible. I hated it. I hated not having you with me. I’ve been teaching myself to smoke. I thought if it’s bad for you, then…then it will be bad for both of us.”
I didn’t understand what Walt was getting at. I asked him to explain himself. “What are you talking about?”
Walt peered up at me from his seat at the table. “I realized that I don’t want to live without you.” He said. “I’m always after you to quit smoking because I think cigarettes are bad for you. You either can’t quit, or you won’t. I know you’ve heard the saying, ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.’ I decided to join you because…because I don’t want you to…to go away and leave me here. I would rather…I would rather go with you.”
At first, I didn’t understand what Walt meant, but I caught on quickly. My husband was afraid I’d die, and he’d be left alone. He planned to use cigarettes to shorten his life to match the length of mine. The love and selflessness which motivated Walt’s plan touched my heart and chased away the anger I’d nursed for him all that long day. My anger turned to shame. I was ashamed that I’d indulged in a bad habit which worried my husband. My shame reinforced my faltering resolve to give up my lifelong tobacco addiction.
I grabbed the pack from the table and returned the cigarette to it that I’d taken from Walt. I threw the pack away and emptied the ashtray into the trash. I put the box of matches in the drawer next to the stove where it belonged, then I pulled a chair next to Walt’s and sat down facing him. I took his right hand in mine and held it.
“Don’t smoke.” I begged. “You were right about what you said about smoking. Earlier tonight, I saw how bad it can be for you. I’m quitting. No more cigarettes. No more cigars. I don’t want to leave you on your own. I’m not going to. You’re stuck with me, love.”
I tried to add to my pledge of loyalty with a small physical gesture. Instead of just holding Walt’s hand with one hand, I clasped it between both of mine. When my burned left palm touched Walt’s hand, I yelped in pain and swore. “Damn this hand!” I said and shook it angrily in the air.
Walt was instantly concerned. He took my hand to see what was wrong with it. “Oh!” He exclaimed in a motherly voice he used when I was hurt or sick. “Look at your poor hand. It’s burned and blistered. Let me get the butter and a bandage.”
True to his word, Walt carefully dressed my hand with butter and gauze. When he was done, he kissed the back of it. “We’ll have to keep an eye on that, so it doesn’t get infected.”
Walt’s kindness touched my heart again. He’d done exactly what I’d needed him to do, what I’d longed for him to do. With one small act of caring, he’d proved his love and devotion to me. He’d already done that with his misguided attempt at learning to smoke, but somehow, the first aid which he performed was even more moving.
The tenderness Walt displayed was at odds with the bitter words he’d said to me the night before. I didn’t understand what had changed in his attitude toward me. I asked him because I was tired of trying to guess. Walt turned his head to hide his face from me when he answered. I used my bandaged paw to turn it back toward mine. “Tell me.” I said. “Even if it’s bad, I’d rather know than wonder.”
“I was jealous.” Walt admitted.
Walt’s mention of jealousy was the last thing I expected. “Jealous?” I asked. “Of who?”
“Of you and David!” Walt exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Whenever you talk about him, you describe him like he’s a mythical creature or a character out of some Greek epic. I always felt a little jealous to hear you talk about someone that wasn’t me. I never worried very much about it because I never expected you to see him again. When he showed up here, I got scared.”
I felt a pang of guilt when I thought of the mutual suck-off session I’d had with David earlier that day. I wondered if I should tell Walt about it or not. I consoled myself with the fact that I’d refused David’s every other advance. I told myself that my limited resistance counted for something. Plus, sucking David off hadn’t made me fall out of love with Walt. I tried to convince myself that the act had been a momentary lapse of judgement, nothing more. I started to tell Walt that he was silly to worry about losing me to David.
“Let me explain.” He insisted. I closed my mouth to allow him to finish.
“You know how nervous I’ve been about this Firestone thing. I feel like my dream of the restaurant is walking a knife’s edge and it could fall either way. I want so badly to succeed. A Firestone star would mean so very much to me.” Walt shook his head to acknowledge that I already knew how badly he wanted a star. He tried to make his point.
“Yesterday, being without you all day, I kept thinking about the star and what if the inspection happened when you weren’t there and what if I won it without you and what if I lost it without you. I thought of you out all day with David. My mind kept painting pictures of you falling in bed with him, or maybe running away with him.
“By the time you showed up yesterday evening, I was so upset. I was upset about the soup too, but I couldn’t get my mind off the idea that you were going to leave me for David. Then as soon as you got into the kitchen, you took Owen’s side over mine. I felt betrayed. I saw red. That’s why I said those terrible things to you. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to get back at you for choosing David over me.”
I defended myself against Walt’s accusations. “But I didn’t.”
Walt shook his head again. “I know you didn’t. It’s just how I felt. I’m sorry.”
Walt’s explanation made sense, but it felt incomplete. The vicious accusations he’d leveled at me were too specific for Walt to have chosen them on impulse. I pressed him for answers. “What’s the rest of it?” I asked. “I appreciate the apology, but there’s got to be more behind what you said. If we’re clearing the air, let’s clear all of it. You said I was getting old. You also said you were in charge. You said I’d be in the gutter without you. Explain that.”
Walt sighed and looked at the floor. My questions made him uncomfortable. I guessed that whatever he was about to say was something he’d been chewing on for a while. “The one about me being in charge is my main complaint. I think you’re too passive.” Walt said. “When it comes to the restaurant, or anything really, you never have an opinion. I hate being alone in every choice I make. I want your input. I want to know you’re with me, or if you’re not, I want to know that too. I need a full partner. I’d rather you disagree with me sometimes than follow me like the back wheel on a bicycle.”
Walt’s words set me back on my haunches. I never offered my opinion about much of anything because I didn’t think I had much to add. I never spoke up about the restaurant because every choice Walt made always seemed to turn out right. Even back to when he picked the location. That was the one time I’d argued with him. ‘There’s a Horne & Hardarts Automat right across the street!’ I’d said at the top of my voice. I was terrified by the presence of a cheap eatery so close to where Walt wanted to open a fine restaurant.
Walt was thrilled the Automat was there. ‘It’s perfect!’ He’d said. ‘Everyone who just wants to eat can go there. The ones who want a real experience can come here.’
Walt had been right, and I had been wrong. I used that one decision to prove to myself that Walt was the expert, and I was the novice. As the novice, I thought that I should let the expert have his way on everything. I never realized that my lack of participation made Walt feel isolated. I wished he would have told me. “I’m sorry.” I said to apologize for my lack of input. “I thought I was being supportive of whatever you wanted to do. I didn’t know you needed me to have an opinion.”
“I should have said something.” Walt admitted. “Instead, I learned to make every decision like the captain of a ship, and I resented you for obeying all of them like my first mate.”
Walt sighed and broached the next ugly thing he’d said. “What I said about you being in the gutter, that’s a little different, but I guess it’s kind of the same thing. For a long time, before we got together, back when we were just neighbors in the same building, you acted like you didn’t much care about your own life. When I invited you into mine, you went along with everything I suggested. I kind of felt like, if it were up to you, if I hadn’t taken you in, you would have laid down and died back when the landlord evicted you in ’44.”
I admitted that I might have done just that. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. Everything felt so pointless and empty.”
“I remember.” Walt agreed. “Since then, you’ve done everything I wanted you to do and you never complained. I know you hated washing dishes in the cafeteria at the Navy Yard, but you never said a word. I know you didn’t want to learn to cook, but you did it anyway because that’s what I asked you to do. I feel like you’ve made me responsible for your whole life. It’s too much. I’m afraid of making the wrong choices. I’m afraid you’ll come to resent me. I need you to participate. I need you to take responsibility for your own life.”
“Alright,” I agreed, “you’re right. In the beginning I did everything you wanted because I felt like I owed you. I guess it became a habit. I didn’t mean to leave you all alone. You’ll have to remind me sometimes, but I promise to do better.”
“Thanks, love.” Walt said. “It should be simple. When I ask your opinion, have one. If I’m doing something you disagree with, tell me and we can talk it out.”
“I will.” I promised. “Now, what about the last thing you said? What about me getting old? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re just about the same age. If I’m getting old, then so are you.”
Walt’s awkwardness didn’t return when I asked him to explain the last accusation he’d made. He was very direct. “Do you remember that robber you tossed out of the counter place where I worked in Passyunk?”
I nodded that I did.
“That was the toughest, manliest thing I’d ever seen anyone do, EVER. The robber put a knife to my throat, and I was so scared. The way you looked at him, when you whispered that he should leave, it was like you were possessed by a demon. When the man didn’t leave, you dragged him away from me and beat him up. He stabbed you. I watched him push the knife into your chest but you acted like you didn’t even feel it.
“After the robber was knocked out, you came back into the restaurant and finished your dinner. You didn’t bandage your stab wound or even wash the man’s blood off your hands. You sat down at the counter, took a bite, and complimented the meal. I was a nervous wreck, but you were steady and calm. I thought maybe you were crazy.
“Once a few days passed, and you kept coming to eat every night, I realized you weren’t crazy. You were angry that the man threatened me. You did what you did because you cared for me. Once I understood what was behind your action, I fell in love with you. The rage I saw didn’t worry me, because it wasn’t directed at me. Your rage protected me.”
I nodded to acknowledge that I remembered the incident the same way Walt did. “That’s the only time I ever lost control.” I explained. “That was one of the few times I ever hated the man I was beating on. As you said, I hated him for threatening someone whose company I’d come to enjoy. It would be simple for me to say I started to love you then, too. I don’t know if love is quite what I felt, but I certainly cared. I cared enough to pummel that robber until you dragged me away.”
I finished agreeing with Walt and realized I still didn’t understand what any of that had to do with my original question. I raised it again. “What does that have to do with me getting old?”
Walt explained. “You haven’t changed, up here.” Walt said and tapped my forehead. “You still carry yourself like no one is tougher than you. I worry because you’re not indestructible. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to lose you over a fight.”
“I see.” I admitted. “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is fifty-three years old.”
Walt grinned at my hackneyed Shakespeare quote. “Something like that.”
“Alright, love.” I said and patted Walt’s hand with my own. “You’re right. I don’t want our time cut short either. I’ll work on that as well. To be honest with you, I didn’t act the way I did because I thought I was tougher than everyone else. I did it because I didn’t have anything to lose. You reminded me that hasn’t been true for a long time. I’ll be more careful.” I added another apology to my agreement. “Along those lines, I’m sorry I threatened to hit you. I never should have done that. No matter what you said to me, I had no right to threaten you with violence.”
To my surprise, Walt didn’t agree with my apology. “Actually, I’m glad you did. When you threatened me, I knew I’d taken things too far.”
I was tempted to argue with Walt. I almost insisted he let me apologize, but I didn’t. I wanted Walt to have things his way, so I let the matter lie. Instead of insisting on anything, I leaned towards him and kissed his salty lips. Walt’s lips parted and our kiss deepened. I tasted tobacco smoke on his tongue. The flavor triggered my craving. I kissed and licked the inside of his mouth for as long as I could.
By the time we separated, Walt’s face was flushed with sexual excitement. “I wish I wasn’t so tired.” He said. “I’d show you how sorry I am instead of just telling you.”
I told Walt that I felt the same. “As much as I’d love it, I’m tired too. I have to get up early. We made progress on the case today. I have to meet Larry’s lawyer tomorrow morning at nine. Let’s get in bed and try to rest. You need your sleep as much as I do. You’ve got a restaurant to run and a star to earn.”
Walt stood from the table. He gathered the coffee pot and took it to the sink. He kept talking as he rinsed out the pot. “I took tomorrow off. I told Harold that he was in charge. I missed you so badly today. I promised myself that I wouldn’t rest until we made up. Harold is going to open tomorrow, him and Owen.”
“Owen?” I asked.
“You were right about him.” Walt admitted. “He’s an excellent chef. He’s also as stubborn as a…I almost said a mule, but mules don’t have anything on Owen. I know why you like him. He’s just like you.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
Walt finished with the percolator and set it on the drainboard to dry. He wiped his hands on the dishtowel and hung it to dry before he answered. “At the start of the shift, I told Owen that I didn’t want him here. He refused to leave. I warned him that if he didn’t leave, I’d make him leave. He threatened to ‘drop me where I stood.’ The way he said it made him sound like you. And just like you, I believed he could do what he said. I gave up and let him stay.
“By the end of the dinner rush, I realized I’d been wrong. Owen did a great job tonight, like he always does. I apologized to him and welcomed him back to work. When I told Harold to open tomorrow, I told him to bring Owen in to help. I’m certain they’ll do fine.”
“I’m glad.” I said to express my true feelings. “Owen admires you. He said he’s wanted to work here for a while so he could learn from you.” I yawned and changed the subject. “Let’s go to bed.”
Walt and I went to our shared bedroom and started to undress. I emptied my pockets into my nightstand like I usually did. I stopped for a moment when I took Larry’s quarter from my inside pocket. I held the worn coin up to see if the bust of Queen Victoria looked anything like old Madam Mitch. I chuckled to myself when I saw that the weak chin and aquiline nose did bear some resemblance to the deceased whorehouse operator.
I stowed the quarter in a safe place in the corner of the drawer and shed my jacket. I unstrapped my holster and gun and returned them both to the nightstand. Walt didn’t comment on the fact that I’d worn the gun, but he did keep the conversation going while we got ready for bed. He asked about the progress I’d made on the case. I told him an abridged version of the day I’d had, and the work David and I had done to discover Ted was alive. Walt was suitably astonished.
Because I’d astonished Walt, he decided to astonish me. “Your brother came by today just before closing.”
“What the fuck did Georgie want?” I grumbled as I buttoned the pajama shirt I’d put on.
Walt smirked at me. The smirk he wore was his ‘I know something you don’t know’ smirk. “Your brother, George, came to walk his niece home from work.”
“Julie?” I asked.
“How did you know?” Walt asked in response to my question.
I explained. “I stopped back earlier tonight to get my gun. Julie caught me outside. She was worried about us, you and me. While she and I talked, she said her mother’s maiden name was Millie Edwards. I asked and she told me she also had an uncle named Georgie and an aunt named Edie. I figured that made her my niece.”
Walt agreed that I was right. “Your sister, Mildred, married an Irishman named Liam Flanigan. Liam is a printer. He works for the Philadelphia Inquirer at their pressing plant a few blocks to the north of here. They live on the other side of Vine, two blocks west of the Broadwood where David is staying. Julie had no idea you were her uncle. She didn’t even know she had an uncle besides your brother George. I think she probably still doesn’t know.
“George asked Julie to introduce him to the owner. She brought him to me. We shook hands and George asked your niece to leave us alone. I offered your brother a chair at the break table in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t sit. He told me who he was and who Julie was. He asked how you were. He asked who I was. I told him what he wanted to know. He asked if he could come back sometime with both of your sisters. I told him that would be up to you.
“I also told him a little about what you’ve been doing these last couple of days. I told him that I didn’t know when you’d be done. George said that he waited thirty-five years and another week or so would make no difference. He gave me his telephone number and left.”
“Fucking family bullshit.” I muttered in response to the explanation Walt had offered. “They could’ve picked a better time for a fucking reunion.” Walt didn’t say anything one way or the other. He left my line of sight to walk around the bed to his side. His movement left me with nothing to look at. I tried to rub my face again, but the gauze on my left hand stopped me. I swore at my hand. “Damn this hand!”
The bed shifted as Walt laid down on it. He tapped his finger against my back. “It’s time to sleep, love.” He said. “Don’t forget to set the clock.”
I wound the alarm clock and set it for eight. I turned the light out and got under the covers to lay down next to Walt. By the time my head hit the pillow, I’d wrestled some control over my scattered emotions. I shared my feelings with my husband. “You know, from the time Julie came to work here, I thought she reminded me of someone. Tonight, when I was talking to her, I realized who it was. She looks just like my mother. She even has some of my mother’s mannerisms.”
I thought about my recent encounter with Georgie and all the things he blamed me for. I remembered that he’d been a little kid when my father threw me out. He had no way to know what really happened, especially if my father told the family a lie. “I think I will see them.” I decided with no more thought. “My brother and my sisters, I mean. They didn’t have anything to do with what my father did. My poor mother didn’t either. Maybe Georgie was right the other day. Maybe I should have gone home after I read my father’s obituary in the paper.”
“Why didn’t you?” Walt asked.
“Why didn’t I?” I said to parrot my husband’s question. “A lot of reasons. I was hurt and angry. If I’m honest, I don’t know why I didn’t. I think I was afraid that my mother and my brother and sisters would reject me like my father had. I think my pride got in the way. I was too proud to go back to them, too proud to go crawling back to beg them to love me. I wanted them to come to me.
“I stayed in this city. I could have gone anywhere, but I stayed here. I lived under my own name. My family could have found me if they wanted to. All they had to do was open the telephone book. They never did. The more time went by, the more I felt like they rejected me by never seeking me out. I never considered that my father might not have told the truth about why I left. It never dawned on me that the man who taught me to be a man might have been a cringing coward when it came to his wife. I guess I should have done…something, but I never did.”
Walt rolled toward me to kiss the side of my face. “Don’t beat yourself up. You did what you thought was best at the time. How could you have known? Look at what you’d been through. Your father disowned you. You fought in a war. Your friend Peter rejected you. You almost died. You were hurt over and over and over. You didn’t want to risk being hurt again. That reminds me,” Walt continued, “this morning you were hurting again, but you seem alright now. Did something happen?”
My stomach rumbled over Walt’s mention of it. My brain screamed obscenities at me. It cursed me for indulging in mutual blow jobs with David. I berated myself for allowing David into my bed in the first place. I told myself that I should never have gone to his room at all.
Walt grew suspicious of my outward silence. He pressed me for an answer. “Law?” He asked. “Did you have sex with David?”
“NO!” I blurted. “We didn’t have sex. Not really.”
“Not really?” Walt asked. “How do you ‘not really’ have sex?”
I took a deep breath and blew it out as a ragged sigh. With that sigh, I decided to tell Walt the whole truth and accept the consequences of my actions, whatever Walt decided those consequences would be.
I told Walt about the last two days I’d spent with my old friend. I told about how David praised me for being smart while he called himself stupid. I told about how David got drunk and kissed me, about why I rejected David’s advances when we sat in the dim glow of the lights from the bridge named for Walt. I told about how David made advances toward me again when I brought him to his hotel and how I’d held myself apart from him out of duty to my husband.
I told Walt about the pain I felt after he and I argued in the alley behind Walt’s Special. I was honest about all the worry which went through my mind during the day. I also told Walt about the confusion I endured after my brother’s accusations, how I wondered if maybe I had somehow caused all my family’s misfortunes.
I told my husband about when I revealed my scars to David and how I told David the story of where the scars came from. I explained how David comforted me and what that comfort led to. I ended my story with a full admission of what David and I had done together. I even told Walt of my rationalization that all David and I had done was something we should have done years ago.
I reached the end of my story and stopped talking. I almost apologized for my actions, but I didn’t. As I listened to my own explanation, I felt less guilty than I had previously. I realized, at the time, I’d been distracted and hurt. What David and I had done, allowed me to get back to work on the case with my full attention and ability. The act had been more of a bandage for a wound than an act of love. I didn’t love David. I loved Walt. I reasoned that the emotion behind the act meant more than the act itself. I waited to hear what Walt thought.
“I don’t think I’m upset.” He said at length. “I don’t condone what you did, but I’m not going to chastise you for it either. I think I’m going to look at it like you decided to, as something which happened long ago instead of earlier today.”
Walt pulled his pillow from behind his head and kneaded it into a fuller shape. He put it back where it had been and laid his head on it. “Let’s get some sleep.” He said. “I’m tired and so are you. We’ll sort the rest of it out tomorrow. I’m spending the day with you, so get me up when you’re done in the shower. I can help cook breakfast for Mister Scofield and David.”
Walt closed his eyes. A few moments later, his breath slowed, and he was asleep. I was tempted to try to reason out why Walt had so easily dismissed my indiscretion, but I was too tired. I needed sleep, and I knew I wasn’t going to get very much of it. When I wound the clock, the hands stood at four in the morning. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift to dreamland.
