Chapter 15

Sheila had been sleeping for nearly 18 hours, when she heard the phone ring. She turned in bed, to look at the alarm clock. The red numbers were blurry at first and she rubbed her eyes until she saw 11:45 AM appear. She reached a hand out to search for the phone, but as she lifted the receiver to her ear the caller had hung up.

It had been two months since she had signed off on the divorce papers between herself and Charlie. Chad had brought over the papers two weeks after that, so she could return her driver’s license, bills, and bank accounts to her original name, Sheila Polk. They were still unsigned and sitting where she had left them that day, on the dining room table. Still embarrassed by her sexual harassment of Chad, she had told him to take a month’s vacation. He was reluctant to go.

“I’m really worried about you, Sheila. I don’t think I should let you be alone for a week, let alone one month,” he had told her.

“Oh, please don’t be worried. I’ll be fine. I’ve been through bigger problems than this before in my life.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, ok? Just, believe me. I can get through this on my own. I need to do this, alone.”

She didn’t believe her own story then, and she was proving her doubts, and Chad’s, right.

She couldn’t sleep without taking a pill, and she couldn’t stay awake without taking another pill. The doctor was concerned about issuing her a prescription, since she hadn’t had sleeping problems before. He didn’t know about the divorce, but could tell that she was not in a good frame of mind.

“Are you getting any exercise, Miss Polk?” He had been instructed over the phone by Chad earlier that day to use her maiden name. “Perhaps some light activity would allow you to relax?”

“I’m walking everyday, doctor. I don’t think it’s exercise. I have just been working so damn hard, you know?” She had started to cry. It was so easy to produce tears normally, and in her exhaustion the tears were even easier to come by. “I just need something to help me stay asleep. Please, Dr. Miller?”

He wrote her the prescription for some Dalmane, but only gave her 10 pills and no refills. After those pills ran out, she went to see her gynecologist, and got another prescription for Ambien. The  pills were starting to run low, however. She was thinking about seeing Dr. Miller again soon, trying to craft another story in order to get more pills.

She tossed her feet out of bed, and stood up. Feeling wobbly she placed her hand on the wall and walked to the bathroom, and ran a bath. As the water filled the tub, she flipped on the light switch, and was immediately blinded by the bright lamp above the bathroom sink. She tried to take a look at her reflection in the mirror, but couldn't bear to open her eyes wide under the light.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked into the kitchen with her eyes half-closed, still holding on to the wall for balance. The coffee pot was still filled with yesterday morning’s coffee, so she poured herself a mug and heated it up in the microwave. She ran some cold water from the kitchen faucet and wiped her eyes with it. When the microwave was done, she took out the mug, filled it to the brim with  milk and sugar, and took it back into the bathroom.

She tried to test the water with her toe, while holding the mug of coffee with both hands. Her head started to spin and she spilled the coffee on to her arms. This shocked her so much so that she slipped into the bathtub. Her hips hit the edge of the tub, and sent her face into the tile wall behind the tub. She immediately tasted blood in her mouth, and this sent her into a panic.

Her heart racing, she crawled into her bedroom. The bath was still running and the coffee  spilled on the white tile floor, but she didn’t have time to deal with this. She feared that she had broken her jaw. She dialed 911.

The operator had a hard time hearing her, as she couldn’t open her mouth up. She started to gag on her blood, and the operator – hearing this – told her to calm down, that the paramedics were on their way. Sheila blacked out.

“Looks good to me. Nurse, will you please let them know that she’s ready for Dr. Geary to take a look at her?”

Sheila heard the voice, but couldn’t see who it belonged to. “What – what’s happening?” There was silence, darkness. “Where am I?” She started to panic again.

“It’s ok,” the voice said again. A sheet was lifted from the side of her face, which had been covering her eyes. “You had a fall and you needed some stitches in your mouth and on your cheek.” Sheila turned her head to look at the person, but immediately felt sore.

“Ow,” she grabbed her neck.

“Yes, you’re going to be sore for a while.” She felt hands turning her head, very gently. “I’m Dr. Phillips, Mrs. Polk.”

Sheila tried to sit up, but felt Dr. Phillips’ hands pressed on her shoulders. “No, don’t try to sit up just yet. You’ve badly bruised your hip. It looks like you were pretty close to breaking it, so you need to take it easy. Just lie back.”

He was handsome, olive skinned with big, black eye brows and dark brown eyes. His hair was covered up by a blue paper hat, and he was wearing blue paper scrubs.

“What happened to me?”

He picked up a manila folder sitting at her feet, and said “Patient found at right side of bed, in prone position. Looks like you passed out while talking to 911. There’s also some notes here about a conversation you had with the paramedics.”

“Oh?”
            “You said that you were trying to take a bath and you slipped and fell into the tub.” He looked up from the folder and looked at her. He smiled at her and said, “How do those stitches feel?”

“I can’t feel anything, really.”

“That’s good.” Putting back the folder, he said “Why do you think you slipped?”

She was quiet, thinking to herself if she should mention the pills, or start with the divorce that left her unable to cope with even the idea of sleeping.

“The pills? I guess, the pills I was taking to make me sleep made me dizzy.”

“Ambien? They found the bottle in the bathroom. And a bottle of Dalmane. Why did you need sleeping pills, Mrs. Polk?”

The question sounded accusatory to Sheila. “It’s Miss Polk, Dr. Phillips.” She closed her eyes and tried to turn as much as she could away from his glare.

“Miss Polk, sorry. Are you upset about something?”

“Are you a psychiatrist or a physician?”

He leaned over the bed, putting his arms right beside her body. “Miss Polk, I am a physician who cares about you. I could send in a psychiatrist, if you’re telling me that you want one, or maybe that you need to talk to one?”

The tone in his voice melted away the armor she had so quickly put up. She expected to start crying, but she couldn’t feel the tears in her eyes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of everything. But I can’t stay asleep.”

“Is that what you want – to just stay asleep?”

“Not forever, no. Just to sleep through the night, not waking up at any little sound or because of something I thought I felt, you know?”

“Ok. Well, I think you need to try and get some rest now. Dr. Geary is going to come in and look at your stitches and the bandage on your hip, but you can close your eyes. Do you want me to close the blinds and turn off the lights?”

“No, that’s ok.”

He patted her shoulder, and left the room. With the door closed, Sheila could hear the humming of the fluorescent lights, and started to feel the sting of her hip. She rubbed her tongue on the inside of her jaw and felt the stitches along her gums. “Oh my god,” she thought, “What the hell do I look like?”

Dr. Geary entered, not expecting Sheila to be lucid. He picked up the file folder and looked over the notes. Sheila moved her feet in the bed to make him aware of her presence, and he looked over to her. “Hi there. I’m Dr. Geary. Looks like Dr. Phillips did a great job with the stitches,” he leaned in to her face to get a closer look. “Very nice.” He smelled like pine needles and cedar.

“Does it look bad?” she asked him.

“Well, take a look for yourself,” he turned around to find a small mirror and handed it to her. “You had a bad spill, and you’re going to see that bruise on your cheek grow about three times that size. It could have been much worse, though.”

 She looked at her reflection and saw the red and blue spot just below the stitches on her cheek-bone. “Oh my god,” she said, out loud this time. “I look like someone beat me up.”

Dr. Geary took the mirror from her, “All done? I told you, it could have been worse. You could have damaged your eye socket, or lost some teeth.”

“So my teeth are ok?”

“You did get cut on the gums, but no tooth damage that we could see. You are going to have to call your dentist, however. He’ll want to make sure of that for himself.”

“Chad.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Ask Chad to call my dentist, he’ll have the number.”

“Who is Chad, Miss Polk?”

Sheila was confused for a second. Surely Chad had followed the ambulance to the hospital, and would be getting reports back from the doctors and nurses. “Isn’t Chad here?” she asked him.

“I’m sorry. Is he a relative that we should contact? Your boyfriend?”

“He’s my assistant.” She recalled that he was away, and wouldn’t be back until the next day. “I forgot, he went to Jamaica for a month.”

“Do you have his phone number, where we could reach him?”

“He’s gone until tomorrow, but maybe someone could leave him a message on his cell phone?”

“I’ll have the nurse get the number from you.” He made some notes on a pad of paper that he got from his breast pocket. “I’m going to have her call Chad and tell him that you are in the hospital.”

“He’ll freak out,” she mumbled.

“What’s that? Oh. Well, we won’t tell him any more than we have to. Your hip is very bruised and will be considerably painful for at least two weeks now, Miss Polk. Try to not roll over on to your left side, ok?”

Sheila nodded at him. “When can I go home?”

“We’ll see what we can do about getting a hold of Chad.”

Knowing that she couldn’t wait for him to return and then come retrieve her from the hospital, she called out to the doctor, who was making his way out the door. “Wait! Call my hus… my ex-husband. I know the number.”

Charlie was in the studio, working on the sound editing of the song he and Terry wrote several weeks ago. It was called Enough, and Frank, Jean Marie, Lana, and anyone else who heard the rough version of the song thought it was magnificent. Terry was still dealing with his cancer, and made several trips a week to the studio to help Charlie with the songs they had written. However, Charlie couldn’t stop fussing over Enough, wanting it to be perfect. He imagined listening to this song after Terry had passed away, and was racing against an invisible clock to finish it, perfect it, so that he could present it to Terry and the rest of the world, in all its glory.

Jean Marie was lying on the floor of the bedroom, practicing some yoga stretches she learned from a videotape her sister sent her. Her pregnancy, now five months and one week along, wasn’t causing her significant discomfort, but with her physical therapy background and her desire to stay moving, she was eager to try as much as possible with her ever-changing body. As she lifted her right leg straight into the air, the phone rang.

“Oh, great timing,” she said. She brought her leg down and rolled on to her side, propping herself up from the carpet, waiting to see if it was a wrong number. After the third ring, she got up and rushed to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Charlie Clark residence?”

“Who is calling, please?”

“This is Meridian Hospital, Nurse Lee calling. Is Charlie Clark there?”

“This is his wife, can I help?”

“I am calling on behalf of a patient here, Miss Sheila Polk. She requested that we notify Mr. Clark. Is he available?”

Jean Marie was searching her memory, trying to think of who this Sheila Polk could be. Finally it clicked. “Oh! Sheila Clark? I mean, Polk? Um, can I call you back? I need to find Mr. Clark, Charlie.” The nurse gave Jean Marie a number to call, and hung up immediately.

She took the number with her down the stairs and out to the studio. She knocked on the doors, as had become customary during the recording sessions so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. She didn’t wait for a reply, though, instead entering immediately.

“Charlie? I just got a really strange phone call for you.”

He looked up from the sound mixer. “Huh? A phone call? Who was it?”

“Well, it was the hospital. Meridian Hospital. They said that Sheila Polk wanted you to be notified that she was there.”

Charlie’s face was smacked with surprise. “Sheila? What happened?”

Jean Marie handed him the phone number, and said “I don’t know, you’ll have to find out. What do you think happened?”

“Well, knowing Sheila,” he waved the paper in the air, “something tragic, dramatic, tragically dramatic, or none of the above. Let’s find out.”

Charlie went to the phone in the kitchen, dialed the number on the paper and waited. A nurse answered and told Charlie about the situation. She asked him if he wanted to talk to Sheila.

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“One moment, please.” There was a horrible song for the hold music, and he pulled the phone away from his ear while it was playing.

“Hello?”

The voice was muffled. Charlie pulled the phone back to him, “Hi, Sheila?”

“Yes, who’s this? Charlie?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Oh, thank God you got the message.”

“Are you ok? Is it something serious?”

“No, luckily it isn’t. I just had a really bad fall. I hit my face and my hip, and I got stitches.”

Jean Marie tapped Charlie’s shoulder, looking for any information about what Sheila was saying. Charlie looked up at her and nodded with a serious look on her face, and she grimaced.

“Is anything broken?”

“Well, I almost broke my hip, and they said my teeth could have been damaged. But it just seems like I’m going to have some really painful bruises and bumps for a while.”

“Ok.” Charlie paused, waiting for any additional information, but there was none. He finally said, “So, why did you need me to call you?”

“Oh yes. Well Chad is in Jamaica on a vacation – great time for me to give him a vacation, huh? They said I couldn’t leave the hospital unless I had someone give me a ride home, and I don’t want to leave in a taxi like some orphaned woman. So I was hoping you would help me. Please.” She said it more as a matter of politeness, rather than pleading with him.

“Let me talk to Jean Marie and I’ll see what I can do. Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s the Meridian Hospital. There’s a number on the phone – it’s 9H.”

“Ok, She. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up, without waiting for her to say goodbye. He looked back at Jean Marie whose arms were crossed at her chest, and she still had the grimace on her face.

“Is this where I have to be the understanding wife and let my husband go off to save his ex?”

“You don’t have to be understanding at all, honey. I’m just giving her a ride home, that’s it.”

“I trust you Charlie. I don’t trust her, though.” Charlie rolled his eyes at this. “Don’t look at me like that! I’ve heard all the horror stories – stories you yourself told me, about how domineering she can be and how she made you the villain of the band. Maybe I should go with you?”

“If you want to come along, that’s fine with me.”

“Do you think she’ll flip out?”

“Probably.”

They both looked at each other for a bit, thinking about the possibilities. “I’ll come, it’ll be a little adventure.” Charlie stood up from the barstool and gave her a hug.

“You are an understanding wife. And I will get you a present for this, when we’re all done.”

“Just as long as it isn’t something from the hospital gift shop, though.”

Chapter 14

Lana and Jean Marie watched the two men walk off into the studio, and found themselves sitting in silence. Jean Marie smiled at Lana and asked her if she wanted a drink.

“I’ll just have some soda, if you have any?”

“Sure thing.” Jean Marie got up from the couch and made her way into the kitchen. “Oh – is diet ok?”

“That’s fine.”

“Good – looks like we’re out of the hard stuff.”

Jean Marie returned with a bottle of water for herself, and the soda for Lana. Handing the can to her, she asked “How are you doing, you know – with Terry’s cancer?”

“Thanks for the drink.” Lana took a sip from the can. “It’s pretty hard to think about it.”

“I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine with me.”

“No – it’s alright, I don’t mind talking about it. In fact, it’s better I think to talk with people about it. Kind of like free therapy, you know?”

Jean Marie smiled at her. “I just don’t know how I would be handling things, if I was in your place.”

“Well, I don’t even know how I’m doing it, personally. Terry, for all of his faults, is such a sweetheart. I think that no one really knows that side of him, and maybe it’s because of the cancer or maybe because the band broke up.”

“He’s let his guard down?”

“Exactly. I didn’t know him before he started singing for Accelerator. But I do know what his reputation was like, from all the things I’ve heard and read about him.”

“How did you meet?”

“It was fate, I guess. He walked into my bar and ordered a gin and tonic, and when I handed it to him I said ‘There you go, governor,’ just mouthing off at him. And he asked me if I was from England. I laughed – I haven’t even left this country and I’m 37, I told him. We started talking, and he took me out to dinner the next night. I guess he swept me off of my feet.”

“I know what you mean. Charlie, he’s such a charmer when it comes right down to it. All he would do when we first started getting to know each other was go on and on with these ridiculous and hilarious stories about the band. I think that’s how he melted my heart – he’s so good natured and funny.”

Lana touched the thin gold bracelet on her left wrist, and said “Terry gave me this just a couple of days before he found out.”

“What happened? How did he know he had cancer? I mean, what made him go see the doctor?”

“Oh, it was awful. I was staying with him that night. In the middle of the night he sat up in bed, and I heard him making these moaning sounds, and kind of breathing really hard. I turned on the light and he was pale and sweaty, so I called 911. I thought it was a heart attack. The doctor just touched his stomach and Terry doubled over in pain. Then they did an ultrasound and found several tumors.” Lana put her hand to her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Lana,” Jean Marie said, as she reached over to her, placing her hand on her knee.

“I know. It’s ok. It is just so overwhelming sometimes. I see him on days and he just lies there. The pain must be terrible sometimes, but I guess he loves me too much to show me. He’ll just go off into the study, or say that he’s going to take a bath and stay in the bathroom for an hour.”

Jean Marie got up from her seat and grabbed a box of tissue on top of the mantle. She handed the box to Lana as she sat down next to her.

“He’s a really great guy, huh?” Jean Marie asked.

“He’s just wonderful, you know? I love him.”

“I’m sure you do – you take really good care of him. That’s all he needs from you, you know? To know that you love him.”

Lana nodded in agreement.

“Listen, do you want to go get some ice cream? I am having the worst cravings right now, and could use an excuse to get out of the house for at least a couple of minutes.”

“Sure, ice cream sounds great right now.”

Terry and Charlie pounded out song after song from their glory days together, in Charlie’s studio. They started with some more recent tunes, and found themselves trying to remember the lyrics and melodies to the first songs they ever played together.

Charlie’s hands were developing new calluses from all of the playing. He held his hand up to show Terry. “Look at this? This is ridiculous. Shows how little I am getting to play, nowadays.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard you’ve made quite the living recently from all of your collaborations. I told you that I really liked that J.B. Parker tune you made. What was it called?”

“Liked it that much, huh?”

Terry laughed. “Wait, I’m being serious. I did like it. Didn’t it go something like this?” Terry strummed out a slow couple of chords on his guitar, while Charlie listened on. “Is that it?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it. Now, A major. Good. E. Excellent.”

“Thanks, teach. I think I’ve got it now.”

Charlie threw a wadded up napkin at him. “Don’t be so insolent, young man.”

“Come on, Charlie. Sing this one. You got me crying all the time…”

“No, it’s You’ve got me crying all night long, you bad bad girl.”

“Yeah, man!” Terry egged him on, playing a little louder now. “Sing it, pops!”

“You’ve got me crying all night long, you bad bad girl. 
Chord change!
I can’t stand to see you running, leaving my heart on the curb. 
You’re a tear jerker, baby.
Making me cry like I do.
You’re a tear jerker, baby.
Making me cry like do.
I’ve be crying so long, baby,
Like I don’t know what else to do.”

Terry wrapped the song up with a quick bluesy ending. “Marvelous. That’s a great song, Charlie. We need to write something now.”

“Are you serious? You want to lay down a track or two?”

“I don’t know – are all these microphones and recording devices just drawn on the wall or do they really work?”

“I get your point. Well, we’re going to need some refreshments. What do you want? Or, maybe I should say what can you have?”

“Probably even better to ask what can’t I have. Nothing too salty, or rich.”

“Hmm. How about some water and bread?” Terry rolled his eyes at this suggestion. “I know! How about some ice cream and root beer?”

“Take it easy there, you’re sounding like a teenage girl now. That sounds great, though.”

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” Charlie hopped out of his stool, and rushed out of the studio, jolting himself by the sudden exposure to sunlight. Covering his eyes, he made his way into the house and announced, “Don’t mind me, ladies. Just getting some provisions.” In his excitement he didn’t notice the lack of a response, as they were out getting their own treats.
He charged his way into the kitchen grabbing glasses, the near empty tub of vanilla ice cream, and two bottles of root beer. Quickly assembling the floats, he then placed them on a tray, and grabbed several water bottles and a bag of unsalted potato chips. “This should do it,” he said to himself. He charged his way back out to the patio and into the studio.

“Ah, looks great, Charlie.”

“Here,” he handed him a float, and set the tray on the floor.

“Where’s the spoon? Or do you have a straw?”

“Oh, damn, I must have forgotten them. Do we need that stuff? Can’t we just sip it?”

“Sure, I’m game if you are.” Terry waited and watched as Charlie tried to take a sip of his float. Charlie’s eyes were wide open as he tried to keep the glass tilted enough to sip some of the root beer, without slamming the ice cream into his face. It was, however, hopeless.

“Great moustache!” Terry shook his head at his poor friend.

“I’ll be right back,” and Charlie went back out to the patio bar, grabbed two straws and some large serving spoons, and presented one of each to Terry.

While eating, they brainstormed about what kind of songs they would like to write. Charlie suggested another blues tune, and Terry requested a rock ballad.

“There aren’t any good rock ballads out there, anymore. At least nothing that gets played on the radio.”

“Well, we can write one up. Why don’t you start playing something, though, and we’ll just see what happens.”

“Ok.” Terry polished off the last bit of foam at the bottom of his glass, set it down and picked up his guitar. He started at first strumming some chords, and then plucked out the notes in the same chords.

“That sounds nice,” Charlie said.

Terry continued playing, feeling inspired, and began to sing a bit to the music.

“Isn’t it enough?
Is it too late, now?
Did I go away too long, and did you find me out?
Isn’t it enough?
Or am I already late?
You slipped away, nothing more I can say
Isn’t it enough?”

“That is a fucking hit, man.” Charlie said.
Terry opened his eyes and smiled at him. “Go get in the fucking sound booth then, you bastard. I don’t have all day.”
Charlie got up and went into the booth.
Terry said to himself, “Oh wait – I do have all day. What am I saying?” Charlie heard this, and laughed.

Out at the ice cream shop, Lana and Jean Marie were making their selections.

“I’ll just have a single scoop of the chocolate, in a cup please.” The clerk behind the counter set to work on her order.

“That’s it?” Jean Marie asked her.

“Yeah, I can’t have too much or I’ll be way too hyper.”

“Oh,” she nodded at this. The clerk handed Lana her cup of chocolate ice cream and a spoon and turned to Jean Marie.

“I’ll have a triple scoop – better make it a banana split – with two scoops of vanilla and one scoop of mint chocolate chip. Extra hot fudge on top, no whipped cream. And three cherries, please.” She felt Lana’s eyes staring at her, and she turned and said “I am eating for two, you know.”

Lana laughed, and said “I know! I’m just surprised! You’re so tiny, and I can’t imagine how all that will fit into tiny you.”

“Well, you won’t have to imagine it in a few minutes. I’ll let you watch!”

“Ok, and maybe you can give me some pointers.”

Jean Marie paid for their ice creams and waited for her banana split. “Pointers on chowing down on some ice cream? Please, I’m a pro.”

“Well, that and eating for two.”

Jean Marie turned completely around and stared at Lana. “You’re joking?”

Lana shook her head. “I just found out two weeks ago.”

“What does Terry think about this? Is he elated?”

“I haven’t decided how to tell him just yet. I want to make sure I’m ok, you know?”

Jean Marie flung her arms open to Lana and gave her a huge hug. Lana had to stoop down a bit to reach Jean Marie’s shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, I needed to tell somebody.”

“Well, it’s wonderful news, and you should be very happy.”

“It’s just such an impossible time, you know? I can’t believe it, still.” She started to cry, and Jean Marie quickly pulled out some napkins from on top of the ice cream counter. “I should get one of those dispensers, you know?” They smiled at this little joke, and Jean Marie’s banana split was presented to her.

“Mmm, yummy! Let’s go sit outside, the air will be good. So, tell me how far along are you?”

“I’m five weeks now.”

“I’ll be four months in two days.”

“Wow! How does it feel?”

“Not too different right now, although I am beginning to feel the first signs of morning sickness. Which, by the way, does not only happen in the morning. I don’t know why they call it that.”

“Maybe it was supposed to be mourning sickness, for the loss of your figure.”

“Too true. I can just imagine how big I’m going to get. Now you – you’re so tall, all that weight can just spread out on you and you’ll still look like a freaking model!”

“I just don’t want stretch marks.”

“Sorry, I don’t think you can prevent them really.”

Lana looked at her half eaten ice cream, and glanced at the banana split in front of her. “Well, in that case, do you mind?” She held her spoon up to Jean Marie, who said “By all means, dig in girl.”

They finished up the banana split, while watching people go by through the strip mall. They saw a woman with triplets go by, pushing all three in a specially made stroller.

“That’s a handful, I bet,” Jean Marie said.

“No kidding. Can you imagine the diaper bill?”

“Can you imagine the feeding?”

“Or the birth?”

“The pregnancy?”

“Ouch.”

“Triple ouch, I’d say.” Jean Marie scooped up some last bits of fudge sauce from the dish, and finishing this then threw her spoon in. “I’m full now!”

“Me too. What do you want to do? Should we head home?”

“Nah, they’re going to be playing in that studio all night long I bet. Want to go shopping for some maternity clothes?”

“You think I should?”

“You’re what, five weeks now? I think you could handle a top or maybe even just some shorts, or something.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just help you pick stuff out.”

“That’d be great – all Charlie ever does is pick out the shirts with horizontal stripes, or the culottes.”

Lana scrunched her nose up, “I guess he must have had a stylist all these years, helping him!”

“I know – but now I have a new shopping buddy!”

Looking at her, Lana reached out and patted Jean Marie’s hand. “Me too. Thank you so much for this. I think I really needed to talk to someone, and you’ve been very nice to me. You hardly know me!”

“Well I know you now, right? Come on, before I lose this sugar high.”

Chapter 13

Wednesday morning Charlie woke up as Jean Marie got out of bed. He laid there, listening to her turn on the shower spout, humming to herself like she normally did. He called out to her from the bed.

“Jeanie! I told you that Terry was coming over today, right?”

She poked her head from around the corner of the bathroom wall. “Yes, you remembered to tell me. That’s why I’m up this early, you fool.”

“What? What time is it?”

Jean Marie pointed at the bed side table, and Charlie turned to look at the alarm clock on it. “Six forty five! Jesus! I haven’t been up this early in ages.” He threw his head back into the pillows out of disgust.

“Too bad!” Jean Marie shouted from the bathroom. “Now you can get up and help me clean the house before your buddy gets here.”

Charlie thought about this for a few seconds, and waited for her to get comfortably lathered up in the shower. He got out of bed and snuck into the bathroom and ran his fingers on the shower door, to make them look like a spider.

“I’m going to get you, my pretty!”

“Ah! Charlie! Don’t scare me!”

He opened the door and entered the shower with her. “Now I can make sure that my back gets properly scrubbed, madam!”

Charlie called Terry’s house when he was dry and dressed from the shower. Only after several rings did he realize that he was calling them at 7:15 in the morning. Happily, Lana answered, assured him that he did not wake them up from a sound sleep, and told him to expect them around 11:30.

Charlie reported this news to Jean Marie, who was starting to make the bed.

“Here, let me get my side,” he said, walking over to the opposite side from her.

“Thank you. Well, since we have several hours, maybe we should go out to breakfast then?”

“Sounds like a splendid idea to me.”

They finished putting away various clothes from their room, and Charlie opened a window to air out the bathroom. Then they hopped into the car and drove off to a friendly diner.

The diner, Kelly’s Place, was practically empty of any other customers when they arrived. The only other people in the dining room were two old men, eating at the bar, and a woman with her two young children, a boy and a girl, both with bright red curly hair. The waitress quickly walked up to Charlie and Jean Marie, holding a pot of coffee at her hip like it were a gun, and asked them how many people were in their party.

“Just two,” Jean Marie answered.

“Great,” the waitress said, grabbing two menus before swiftly turning around and marching up to a booth table. She slapped the menus down on the place settings, asked “Coffee?” to both of them. Charlie raised his hand, and Jean Marie turned her mug over.

While they looked at their menus, Jean Marie said, “I was thinking about the studio this morning.”

“At least one of us can think straight before 9 am,” Charlie said from behind his menu.

“Oh, stop whining. Anyway, I was thinking that you and Terry should hang out in there for a while, and I can talk to his girlfriend. Maybe she and I can go out shopping for some maternity clothes while you boys work?”

“That’s funny – that was exactly what I thought you could do, too.” Charlie said this innocently enough, but it struck a nerve in Jean Marie.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She put her menu down and looked at him.

“Huh?” He looked over the menu to see that she was staring directly at him, and he put it down as well. “What’s the matter?” He leaned over to her, across the table.

“What is that supposed to mean, ‘that’s what I thought you could do’? You think you can plan my day out for me just because you’re having a friend over?”

Charlie was confused. “Jeanie? What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, right. You think you can just have someone over and forget about me? Or do you think you need to plan my day out for me, because I just stay at home all day and pick up after you? I need to have someone to play with, too?” She turned her head towards the window, but Charlie could see that she was crying.

The waitress came back to their table and had her tablet and a pen ready. “Are you ready to order?”

Jean Marie was silent, unmoving. Charlie looked at the waitress and said, “I think I’ll just have two eggs and some toast. Honey?”

Without turning her head, she said, “I’ll have some oatmeal and toast.”

The waitress was either playing ignorant to the drama at the table, or didn’t even care to notice what they were doing. She simply responded with “What kind of toast? White, wheat, rye, sour?”

“White,” Jean Marie answered.

“Me, too.”

“Back in a flash,” she said, turning and marching up to the kitchen counter.

“Now, are you going to look at me or just stare at the window all morning?”

“You can’t make me look at you,” she said under her breath.

“Jean Marie,” Charlie said this with a louder voice, trying to sound stern with her.

“Knock this off right now. I don’t know if you’re feeling hormonal or what, but this needs to stop.”

She turned to face him and her eyes were wide and red. Shaking her head, she said, “You can walk home!” She stood up from her seat and left the table. She started to run out of the diner, and left so quickly Charlie couldn’t chase after her in time. He followed her to the door of the restaurant, and watched her get in the car and drive off.

“Wonderful!” He shouted at her, inside the diner. The few people in there turned to look at him. He went back to his table and sat down. Immediately the eggs, oatmeal and toast were brought to him. He said to the waitress, “Can you put the oatmeal and her toast in a box, please? And I’ll take the check.” She swept up the extra food and took it back to her counter.

“Well, I’m eating my breakfast,” he said to himself. Putting a fork full of eggs into his mouth, he looked up and caught the glaring eyes of the red headed children. He bugged his eyes at them, and they quickly turned away.

The box of food and the check was plopped in front of him, and he finished his meal. He tossed some cash on the bill, and walked up to the kitchen counter.
“Do you have a phone book, please?”

The waitress tossed the phone book out on the counter, and said “Pay phone’s around the back.”

Charlie found the number of a taxi cab company and arranged for a ride home.

As the cab eased into the driveway, Charlie was relieved to see the car parked neatly in its place in front of the garage. He paid the fare and walked up to the front door. He stopped for a moment, to brace himself for possible warfare, and opened the door.

“One obstacle down,” he thought, having worried that she would have locked him out in her rage.

He decided against shouting her name, for fear of either making her want to hide or scream back at him. He couldn’t decide which would be worse, so scratched the idea altogether.

Instead, he took off his shoes and quietly made his way through the house. He walked past the dining room, and into the living room. There was no sign that she had been there. In an instant of panic, he ran to the back door to look into the pool. He checked and didn’t see any sign of her in there either. He did notice that the studio door was opened. He walked out to the patio, trying to be quiet so that he could hear if she made a noise.

Entering the studio, he saw her. She was lying face down on the floor, beside the sound booth.

“Darling,” he said, getting down on his knees and crawling beside her.

“Leave me alone!” Her shouts were muffled by the carpet and her crossed arms.

“Shh, shh, come on now,” he moved her hair away, and peered into the darkness where she was hiding her face. “It’s alright now, you can be mad at me. It’s ok.”

“I’m not mad at you, anymore.” Moving to her side, she wiped the tears off of her cheek. “Do you know why I’m so upset?”

“Is this a loaded question? I can just move out of the house if you want me to.”

He made her laugh, but she quickly stopped. “No, I mean it. Do you know why I’m mad?”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t have anything anymore, except you and this baby!” She broke down into sobs again, and buried her face into her hands.

“Oh, stop. Come on, that’s not true, Jeanie.”

“Yes it is! Don’t patronize me!”

“Ok, sorry.” He sat on his heels and put his hands into his lap. “Tell me why you say that you have nothing.”

“I just,” she wiped her eyes, “I just feel like ever since we got serious, my career got wiped out and took a back seat to yours. And now that I’m pregnant, I just think that this is it for me. I’m gonna be a mom to the baby and a wife to you.”
Charlie was quiet. Knowing better than to interrupt her, he simply nodded along to show that he was listening.

“You know? I don’t have to help you out anymore with your recuperation, thank god. But I don’t have any other clients I’m seeing, and the gym is gone so I can’t bring anyone here.”

“Do you want to have the gym back?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Charlie. I know how much you love this studio. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“No, if it made you feel bad, then I don’t want the studio at all. It shouldn’t stay if it makes you upset.”

“Thank you,” she reached out and patted his hand. “But that’s not going to work, cause then I’ll feel guilty for pushing you out.”

Silently Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. “What would help you, then?”

“I think maybe I should get a job working at a gym, someplace. Or maybe in a physical therapist’s office. I don’t want to drive out to people’s houses anymore.”

“That would be a good idea, to get a job somewhere.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. But when you said to me that you thought I would just be all girlie with Terry’s girlfriend today, it just pissed me off.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“I’m just feeling stifled, you know?”

He nodded to her, and moved closer to her side, putting his arm around her shoulders. She laid down and put her head into his lap.

“Maybe you should take a nap. You don’t need to clean up the house anymore. I can put some crackers and cheese out for you and Lana, and Terry and I can just stay in the studio for a while. Or do you want me to cancel with him?”

“No. They can still come over. Maybe just a quick nap.”

He stood up and helped her on to her feet. “Are you feeling the weight of the baby now?”

“Well, I should be soon. It will be three months come Friday, and I can already see a little bump on my tummy.” Lifting up her shirt, she patted the tiniest hint of a belly to show Charlie.

“Well, there it is!” He patted it, too. “How neat!”

“I love it,” she said, looking down at her belly and at Charlie’s hand.

Terry and Lana arrived a little after 11:30. Lana carried a guitar case in each hand, and Terry had a portfolio tucked under his arm. Charlie answered the door.

“There you are!”

“Hey!” Terry said. He led Lana inside, and Charlie took the cases from her hands.

“I brought one for you and one for me, Charlie.”

“Oh, I have guitars, Terry. I hope it wasn’t any trouble for you.”

“Please, no trouble!” Lana patted Charlie’s shoulder. “I love to see him play.”

“Well, why don’t you follow me and we’ll find Jean Marie and give you both a quick tour.”

Jean Marie was waking up from her nap when she heard the doorbell. She walked down the stairs and saw Lana and Terry in the entryway. “Hello, down there!”

They both looked up and simultaneously said, “Hello!”

“Everyone, this is Jean Marie.”

Continuing down the stairs, she said, “I was getting some beauty sleep.”

“Not that you need it,” Charlie whispered to her.

Lana reached out and shook Jean Marie’s hand. “I’m Lana. It’s great to meet you.”

“Thank you. And you’re the infamous Terry Friedland, I presume?”

“Infamous? That would be fitting.” He walked up and gave Jean Marie a hug. “I’m here to occupy this fellow for a few hours, give you a break.”

“Sounds good to me. Lana, I thought we would just sort of hang around the house, maybe watch TV or a movie. Is that alright?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Charlie set down the cases, and said “I’ve got snacks, everyone!” He put his arm around Jean Marie’s shoulders and walked into the living room. “It’s just some crackers, and some cheddar and brie. But, help yourselves.”

Jean Marie offered drinks to the group, and they sat for several minutes on the sofa, making small talk. Finally, Charlie said, “I think it’s time we set off to work. What do you say, Terry?”

“Yes, capital plan Charlie.” He rose up from the couch and kissed Lana on the cheek.

“Let us know if you plan on skinny dipping in the pool later on with us, ok girls?”

“Terry, don’t scare them!” Charlie said. “I told you it would be a secret!”

Lana and Jean Marie laughed, and the two made their way out to the studio, Charlie holding the guitars and Terry with his portfolio.

“What do you have in there anyways, man? Looks like a book!”

“It’s some stuff I’ve been working on. Things get boring, sitting in chemo waiting for the bottle to empty out into you. So I started bringing in some paper, and wrote out some songs.”

“Like 500 songs?”

“Well, more or less,” he winked at Charlie.

“Here it is.” Opening the doors, Charlie let Terry walk in first.

“Wow, it’s like permanent night time in here, man.” Terry took off his sunglasses and let his eyes adjust before walking further in.

“I know – I had the windows darkened so I wouldn’t be tempted to leave my work unfinished. The pool can be really tempting, you know.”

“I bet. Wow, look at this place. This is great!” He walked into the sound booth and looked at all the equipment and instruments. “Oh, we’re going to have fun in here, man.”

“I hope so. Let me see what you have in these things.”

Terry took one of the cases from Charlie, and they both opened them up. In Charlie’s was the Les Paul Standard he had seen Terry play yesterday. In the case Terry opened was a Martin 12-string acoustic guitar. The top was midnight blue, and the fret markers were mother of pearl. “Hello gorgeous,” Terry said to it.

“Wow, you brought the big guns, huh?”

“I thought it would be fun to hear what kind of sound we’d get out of both of these. You got something to play with?” He smiled, seeing Charlie shoot him a dirty look.

“We can share, don’t worry.”

“Well, it is my house…”