“I knew damn well something was going on. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. He brings the boys over to his mother’s, it takes two hours normally, back and forth. No, he comes home again at eleven. Quarter after. I don’t say a thing. Just keep watching the news. But inside, I’m boiling up. He thinks he’s winning. I’m keeping my big mouth shut. One three day cruise and my mouth’s sealed for good. That’s what he thinks. You’re never gonna believe what I did, Olga, you’re never gonna believe …”
“Cecilia, put sometin’ on you head to protect you. I don’ wan’ de wind to burn you! You hear me?”
Ursula waited for my mother to turn back to her so she could continue her story.
“For hours I listened to him snore away. Nothing could trouble Harry’s conscience. I think I could’ve killed him in his sleep. Finally, I couldn’t stand it, I got up, must of been three in the morning. By dawn, I cracked the code of his briefcase. It was both our sons’ birthdays, backwards. You had to think of it. I took his keys and made doubles before he was up; he was singing La Bamba in the shower when I came back. I don’t think he even noticed I was gone, the s.o.b.”
My mother opened the cooler and gave Ursula a plastic cup of wine with pieces of our neighbours’ fruits in it. A boat’s wake struck us and half of it spilled.
“Monday, I waited in the street two hours ’til his secretary left for lunch. I had to force the key, but it worked; I go in expecting to find all kinds of stuff, you know, pictures of her naked, jewelry bills, that kind of thing. What do I find? Our wedding picture right there on his desk like it always was. After a while, I start wondering if I’m not paranoid. But some voice inside me says, ‘Ursula, wait.’ So I wait. Then I can’t stand it, I’m tired, I’m starving, I go back outside and grab myself a beef-n-chedder at Arby’s, and as I’m about to leave, a voice tells me, ‘Ursula, go back’.”
A tingle went down my spine. Something was nibbling on my bait. The nose of my pole dipped once, violently, and rose. Whatever it was, was gone. The shrimp was on its way to something else. I could feel the hook snagging the seaweed on the bottom as I reeled it back in. My mother contemplated me angrily.
“I couldn’t have been gone more than ten, fifteen minutes. The door was unlocked, I walked right in. Olga, you’ll never guess what I found, oh my God, Olga …”
“Girls, go for a lil’ swim for you circulation, it do you good.”
“The water’s cold, Mótina. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Cecilia echoed.
“Do I have to coun’ three?”
Cecilia doggy-paddled towards the sand bar. The sand-pipers guessed her intentions and were far up in the air before she’d accomplished two strokes, or rather, splashy slaps. I hung onto the back of the boat.
“There they were, both of them! On the floor on all fours! Like animals! She was wearing an apron, and her dress was up over her big fat ass and Harry was busy smacking it with the sole of his shoe! Can you imagine? The sole of the shoe I gave him two years ago for his birthday!”
The image of a butcher striking a strip of meat with a metal block utensil came to my mind. Was Harry tenderizing the woman’s ass? I fell back into the dead man’s float.
“Oh my Guard! My Guard!”
“That’s not it. I stood there watching. They didn’t even see me. The more I looked at the woman, the more I said to myself, ‘Come on, Ursula, you know the lady,’ but I couldn’t quite place her out of context. I thought at first it was one of the boys’ teachers, then it dawned on me. You remember Betty, the baker from Winn Dixie? I’ll never buy bread from her again!”
I looked around for Cecilia; she was squatting on the sand bar, poking sea pencils into the wet sand.
“Tsu, tsu, Ursula, calm down, it not worth you healt’. Please.”
“I didn’t know what the hell I should do! Scream or cry or run. The next thing I knew, I took off my shoe and gave it to Harry! The more I hit him, the more he squeezed her ass and yelled in pain, and the more she thought he was liking it! I was about to shove it up her you know what, but he wrenched it out of my hand. Defending her, when he should have been thinking about me, about my feelings!”
“When you have chil’ren, you don’ do such tings! You put de chil’ren first!”
“Harry says I was spying on him. I don’t trust him. I ended up having to apologize. I said, quote, ‘I am very sorry to have disturbed you and your piece of ass,’ unquote. Haven’t seen him since. He says if I really loved him, I would understand he needs it. Don’t know what he’s trying to prove. That he’s still got enough juice to go around? She can have it! I’m not going to share any more!”
“Drãmos! Nè, nè! Juokãvo!! Baislùs, baislùs, bjaurlùs!” When my mother depleted her stock of American interjections, she spoke Lithuanian to God in the sky, with her arms as well as her words. Actually, she spoke less than she hollered, bellowed in Lithuanian; when she addressed God, she figured her words had a longer way to go.