out the words.
He realized, guiltily, that he generally had dinner with Faye once
a week and missed it last night. One thought diverged to another
and he recalled how he spent last night.
Faye slammed the telephone back onto its base
and walked to the kitchen window. She still lived in the same house
Derek West built for them on the Warren River, although it was
beginning to look rundown compared to her neighbors' homes. She
didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about the fact
that the yard needed mowing or that the gutters were full of
leaves. When Jay lived with her, he kept the house maintained. Now,
with the boatyard and his own place, he barely had time for his
grandmother anymore, she thought.
She called back and once again, the men
ignored her telephone call. "I need you to come and take care of
the lawn," she told the answering machine, "and look at the garage
door, too. Something's not right. Stupid remote doesn't work
anymore."
Faye suffered from depression and never
sought help. Instead, after the betrayal and death of her husband,
and the subsequent addiction and death of her daughter, Faye
retreated into a familiar world of bitterness.
Jealousy consumed her as a young wife and she
detested the bright and beautiful Rose Windham. Fair haired, blue
eyed, educated and wealthy, Rose was everything Faye wasn't. She
even had a roly-poly son who gurgled and bounced on his daddy's
shoulders, while Faye delivered a premature, sickly and demanding
daughter. Faye thought Derek was disappointed; he wanted his first
born to be a son. Derek looked up to Don Windham and wanted
everything his older friend had.
That included Rose Windham, and it cost him
his life.
In reality, Margaret was a beautiful little
girl and Derek had been thrilled with his small family, but the
insecure Faye imagined intrigue and unhappiness where none existed.
And when it did exist, after more than ten years of accusations,
Faye's bitter anguish became vindication.
She detested Rose Windham still, blaming her
for Derek's death and for Margaret's. If the young girl had a
father around, she would not have turned to drugs and alcohol, Faye
reasoned. The girl wouldn't have gotten pregnant at the age of
seventeen, would have finished high school and made something of
herself.
Faye gazed despondently out her kitchen
window and waited for the telephone to ring. Waited for the only
person in the world she loved, and the only person who loved her,
to call. She stood in the kitchen unmoving for more than an hour
until the telephone rang. She smiled skeletally.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Jay took a break and
went upstairs to his apartment. Sabrina hadn't come back, and he
wanted to see if she'd left anything behind, a sign she may
return.
The apartment was silent and empty, shadowy.
Sabrina straightened the bed before she left and her scent lingered
in the bathroom. Jay stood in the bedroom for several minutes, his
eyes closed as he savored the memory of Sabrina's goodbye kiss.
Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Faye and he
flinched. He returned her call and agreed to have dinner with her
the following evening. He also promised to stop by on Saturday, mow
the lawn, and check her air conditioner. Normally, he didn't mind
Faye's demands, but now that Sabrina had materialized, he resented
having to choose. He also didn't look forward to keeping the two
women apart.
His apartment phone rang and he checked the
caller ID before picking up the received.
"Yeah, Brett?"
"Hey, Sabrina is on line one. She's at the
grocery store and doesn't remember how to get back here. You want I
should tell her to take a hike?"
"Nah, I'll talk to her. Put her through."
He waited as Brett cycled the telephone
system and soon he heard her breathy voice. "Hello, Jay?"
"Hey. I hear you're lost again," he
teased.
Sabrina shifted her cell phone to her
shoulder and reached into her purse for the Cadillac keys. "Not
really; I know where I am. I'm not sure
He realized, guiltily, that he generally had dinner with Faye once
a week and missed it last night. One thought diverged to another
and he recalled how he spent last night.
Faye slammed the telephone back onto its base
and walked to the kitchen window. She still lived in the same house
Derek West built for them on the Warren River, although it was
beginning to look rundown compared to her neighbors' homes. She
didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about the fact
that the yard needed mowing or that the gutters were full of
leaves. When Jay lived with her, he kept the house maintained. Now,
with the boatyard and his own place, he barely had time for his
grandmother anymore, she thought.
She called back and once again, the men
ignored her telephone call. "I need you to come and take care of
the lawn," she told the answering machine, "and look at the garage
door, too. Something's not right. Stupid remote doesn't work
anymore."
Faye suffered from depression and never
sought help. Instead, after the betrayal and death of her husband,
and the subsequent addiction and death of her daughter, Faye
retreated into a familiar world of bitterness.
Jealousy consumed her as a young wife and she
detested the bright and beautiful Rose Windham. Fair haired, blue
eyed, educated and wealthy, Rose was everything Faye wasn't. She
even had a roly-poly son who gurgled and bounced on his daddy's
shoulders, while Faye delivered a premature, sickly and demanding
daughter. Faye thought Derek was disappointed; he wanted his first
born to be a son. Derek looked up to Don Windham and wanted
everything his older friend had.
That included Rose Windham, and it cost him
his life.
In reality, Margaret was a beautiful little
girl and Derek had been thrilled with his small family, but the
insecure Faye imagined intrigue and unhappiness where none existed.
And when it did exist, after more than ten years of accusations,
Faye's bitter anguish became vindication.
She detested Rose Windham still, blaming her
for Derek's death and for Margaret's. If the young girl had a
father around, she would not have turned to drugs and alcohol, Faye
reasoned. The girl wouldn't have gotten pregnant at the age of
seventeen, would have finished high school and made something of
herself.
Faye gazed despondently out her kitchen
window and waited for the telephone to ring. Waited for the only
person in the world she loved, and the only person who loved her,
to call. She stood in the kitchen unmoving for more than an hour
until the telephone rang. She smiled skeletally.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Jay took a break and
went upstairs to his apartment. Sabrina hadn't come back, and he
wanted to see if she'd left anything behind, a sign she may
return.
The apartment was silent and empty, shadowy.
Sabrina straightened the bed before she left and her scent lingered
in the bathroom. Jay stood in the bedroom for several minutes, his
eyes closed as he savored the memory of Sabrina's goodbye kiss.
Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Faye and he
flinched. He returned her call and agreed to have dinner with her
the following evening. He also promised to stop by on Saturday, mow
the lawn, and check her air conditioner. Normally, he didn't mind
Faye's demands, but now that Sabrina had materialized, he resented
having to choose. He also didn't look forward to keeping the two
women apart.
His apartment phone rang and he checked the
caller ID before picking up the received.
"Yeah, Brett?"
"Hey, Sabrina is on line one. She's at the
grocery store and doesn't remember how to get back here. You want I
should tell her to take a hike?"
"Nah, I'll talk to her. Put her through."
He waited as Brett cycled the telephone
system and soon he heard her breathy voice. "Hello, Jay?"
"Hey. I hear you're lost again," he
teased.
Sabrina shifted her cell phone to her
shoulder and reached into her purse for the Cadillac keys. "Not
really; I know where I am. I'm not sure
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