Chapter 14

Philadelphia, March 31, 2009

It took three more long dates, including one children’s choir concert and two extravagant dinners followed by two orchestral concerts over the course of three weeks before Jeff gave Debbie a kiss worthy of most second dates. And it happened just inside the front door of her building. He pressed her against the wall and leaned in very close, asking her first if a bigger kiss would be appropriate. She nodded, and when he held her tightly and began to kiss her she felt his erection. Debbie was embarrassed, and didn’t quite know how to react. Instinctively, she pulled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “It’s been a long time. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay. But maybe we should call it a night,” Debbie replied. A kiss was a moment of romance to her. Making it so blatantly sexual ruined the moment. Debbie was disappointed he hadn’t simply said she was irresistible. His face was flushed and this time he didn’t ask, but kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her. He was breathing very heavily. She felt even more uncomfortable.

“May we go upstairs to your apartment?” he asked.

“Well, okay, but just for a little while,” Debbie said. She hadn’t felt sexual desire for a long time, and wasn’t expecting to confront any of these feelings yet, with the slow rate their dates had been progressing. Although she thought that Jeff might be her last chance at marriage and a family, she wasn’t sure he was the one for her. Until now, nobody had been, and she had begun to wonder if she would ever meet her match.

Nevertheless, Debbie had been preparing for the moment Jeff might come up to visit. With Catherine’s help, she had made a big dent in the mess in her apartment. Thankfully, she had a spare bedroom, and for the past two weeks she had been piling all the unnecessary stuff into the spare room, in boxes, bags and on the one table in the room. The pile of clothes had been removed from her bedroom floor, and the room had become quite respectable. There was now space to sit comfortably in the living room as well.

When they walked through her door, Debbie realized Jeff would not have noticed anything around them. He was entirely focused on the moment, and on how much he felt for Debbie.

“I want you,” he said. “I want to spend tonight with you, if you will have me.” He unbuttoned her blouse and helped her take it off. He admired her round shape and once again held her close to him.

Debbie made a conscious decision not to fight the moment, even though she was not feeling nearly as aroused as Jeff obviously was. She led the way into her bedroom, and switched on a small lamp at the side of the bed. She sat down, turned to him and said, “Jeff, you should know that I’m not very experienced. I hope you aren’t disappointed with me.”

Jeff smiled, put his glasses on her night table, and pulled her onto the bed.

“Let’s get under the covers,” she said, standing up and taking off her skirt. He undressed quickly and got under the covers, taking her hand and bringing her along with him, then unhooking her bra and taking both her breasts in his hands. Suddenly she felt a surge of excitement, as if this was exactly the right thing to be doing. Nobody had touched her breasts in a long time. She liked the feeling, although she wasn’t sure it would have mattered whether Jeff or anyone else was doing the touching.

Lying in bed with Jeff, she felt self-conscious. She thought of her friend Catherine, who during one girls’ night out, after three rum and cokes, had confessed to Debbie and another friend that she had celebrated her “750th fuck.” She presented it like an achievement deserving praise. Debbie was appalled, and a little jealous. She was desperate to know if Catherine meant 750 different days, or if she had doubled up. She was too embarrassed to ask. Debbie had wondered whether Catherine kept a chart, but she couldn’t seem to ask that question either. It didn’t increase her respect for her best friend, and Debbie said very little, other than, “Well, Catherine, you’ve certainly been very busy!”

Now she wished she had asked Catherine for advice, or talked to her more about how to please a man, how to move, what to do in bed. Most of her ideas came from reading novels.

Jeff didn’t waste much time with foreplay, although he was gentle enough with Debbie. He was prepared with condoms, and Debbie was torn between being annoyed that he may have planned this spontaneous moment and wondering if he always had condoms in his wallet. Debbie realized he didn’t want to give her time to change her mind. “Are you ready?” he asked, waiting for a quick “okay” from Debbie, who winced in pain as she realized she hadn’t known enough to tell him she wasn’t quite ready. But after the initial moment, she felt good, and proud that she had a lover. She put her arms around him, and felt herself somehow knowing what to do and how to move. “I think I love you,” he said after his orgasm. She was stunned, so stunned that she never got to finish her own. “Me too,” she whispered in his ear, not sure if that would do, but he kissed her, then buried his face in her neck and did not move for the longest time.

When he finally moved, he rolled her on top of him. “That was fantastic,” he said. “I want to marry you. Tomorrow.”

Debbie sat up. He was ready to start all over again. “We hardly know each other,” she said. “What about our families? Where would we live?”

Debbie knew this was a big departure for him. His life was so deliberate, so orderly, yet at the same time his life was about music, which was so deep and emotional. She couldn’t put it all together. She didn’t really understand Jeff very well. And she had heard of women who refused to accept a proposal while in bed. Then she remembered that was actually a scene from a movie, so she discarded the thought swiftly. Debbie was desperate for marriage, for closeness, and for a family. She could probably learn to love Jeff, she thought.

“All that will come in time,” he said. “You can meet my mother afterwards, and we can figure out where to live - after all, it’s my place, your place, or somewhere new. Just say yes, Debbie.”

“OK. Yes. I will marry you.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said. They made love again, and this time Jeff said, “I love you, Debbie. You’ve made me so happy.”

They fell asleep holding each other.

Early in the morning, Debbie called the school office to ask for a personal day, and as soon as the municipal offices were open, Jeff began making phone calls to see about getting married in the afternoon. He was surprised to discover that they would need three days for a license.

“That’s okay, Jeff,” Debbie said. “Let’s use the time to meet each other’s families.

Jeff jumped up. “I’m going to talk to my mother. We’ll go together later, but I must speak with her first.”

“You haven’t even told me about your family. Your father. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, it’s just my mother and me. But I promise you, after you meet her, I’ll tell you everything.” He didn’t wait to ask about her family, but dashed out through the door. “See you later,” he said.

Debbie’s first phone call was to her mother. “Mom, I’m coming over right now. I need to talk to you.”

“Is everything all right, honey? Your Dad and I are going out to lunch, but you can join us.”

“Everything’s fine. I just need to talk to you. Bye.”

With one leg in her slacks, she answered the phone. It was Catherine. “What’s going on? I heard you weren’t in today.”

“Catherine, we’re getting married. In a couple of days!”

Debbie held the phone away from her ear, anticipating Catherine’s shriek. “Married! You’ve got to be kidding. This happened last night?”

“Yes.”

“Well this is a shocker. Gotta go. I’ll call you when school’s out. Hey, congratulations! Wow, can’t believe it.”

Debbie hung up and finished getting dressed. An hour later she got off the high speed line and walked the last ten minutes of the trip to her parents’ well-groomed suburban home in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Her parents lived there with Debbie’s younger sister, Joan, who was divorced and had moved back home with her seven-year old son in order to work nights and save enough to get her own place. Debbie thought her sister was taking advantage. In two years, Debbie told her mother, Joan should have saved enough to move out. “Honey, we’re just trying to help. If Joan needs another year, it’s okay with your father and me.”

Debbie’s mother was waiting at the door when she arrived. Her father was at the kitchen table, reading the paper. “So what’s the news that brings you here?” she asked, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s talk over lunch,” Debbie said. “Where are we going?”

“Just to the diner. Ed, are you ready?”

“Hi honey,” he said, looking up from his paper. “Come over here and give your Dad a hug,” her father said in his deep basso voice. Debbie gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and they all piled into the car parked in front of the house. Debbie sat in the back seat, behind her mother. For just a moment, she felt like she was five years old again. Now she was about to give her parents some big news, and didn’t know where to start.

Even after all these years, Debbie had no idea who her parents were, what was important to them, why they were even together. Before retiring, Debbie’s father was a salesman for a large company, and often on the road. Her mother was largely responsible for taking care of the two girls. But Debbie learned to live with their phony sweetness and pretense that all was well. The darker side remained with Debbie, and she could still hear the fights in her mind. The biggest one was always there, just under the surface, playing on a distorted tape loop inside Debbie’s head. The other scenes rotated playing whenever something triggered them.

“What the hell do you want from me?” Ed shouted. “I do my best, but nothing is ever good enough for you.”

“Honey, that’s not true. I only asked if we could take the children on a real vacation this summer,” Doris said.

“You always want more and more. New ways for us to spend money we don’t have.”

“It’s for the children - your children. If you didn’t gamble it away, we’d be in great shape.”

“How dare you challenge me,” Ed shouted, grabbing the nearest lamp and throwing it on the floor.

“Stop it. Stop it now,” she yelled. “Do you want to wake the girls?”

“I don’t give a fuck. You don’t like this? Maybe you should get a job - go live by yourself. See how you like that.”

He picked up pieces of their best China, smashing them, one after another.

Debbie and her sister huddled together at the top of the stairs. With their father still smashing things, their mother came upstairs, locking the three of them in a room until his rage ended.

Nobody ever spoke of the incident again. Ed’s rage surfaced infrequently, but in Debbie’s teen years it was occasionally directed against her, never her sister. Debbie came to understand that nothing in their family dynamics would ever change. They were happy when he was away. When he came home, they lived with constant fear of his rage.

Only once, when Debbie was 15, did she try to stop her father.

“How can you treat my mother like this? All she does is take care of you? You show her no respect at all.”

“It’s not your business,” he said, slapping her across the face. “You’re an interfering little bitch. I can’t wait until you are out of the house.”

She never challenged him again.

As they walked into the diner, the ugly scene in her mind stopped. Like a videotape, it would pause and resume again on another occasion, just where it had left off--often when she was trying to fall asleep at night. After one very bad period of time, when she was unable to sleep without panic attacks, her doctor prescribed Phenobarbital. Nothing else had worked for Debbie and she was grateful for her ‘wonder drug,’ which knocked her out in a few minutes and allowed her to get through the long nights without reliving her trauma.

She wondered if it was the same for her mother and sister, but never asked. Debbie noticed that her parents seemed much older than when she had last seen them two weeks earlier. This made her feel sad, and she wondered if she only noticed it because she was about to begin a whole new life, with a husband of her own. Once they were seated, Debbie looked idly at the menu and settled on a cheeseburger deluxe and a coke. This was no day to be dieting, she thought.

“Honey, the suspense is killing me. Whatever it is - tell us!”

“I’m getting married.”

Her mother shrieked as loud as she could in a public place. “Married! That’s wonderful....but I didn’t think you were dating anyone. You’re not....”

“No Mom, I’m not pregnant. We’ve only been together for a few weeks. He proposed last night, and I accepted!!”

“I don’t know what to say....I’m so....surprised.”

“Well I think we should just say congratulations, Doris, and give the girl a kiss,” Ed chimed in. “Well who is the lucky fellow, and when do we get to meet him?”

“Pretty soon, I think. Maybe tomorrow evening. We’re getting married at City Hall sometime this week. So clear your schedules, and I’ll talk to Joan later today.”

“That’s so fast,” Doris said. “What’s the mad rush?”

“His name is Jeff Sadlers, and he writes for the paper, about music. We just decided...why wait? Why not right away?”

“I’ve read his name,” Ed said. “Isn’t his mother somebody well-known from the Main Line?”

“Yes. He’s taking me to meet her this evening.”

“Oh, honey, this is wonderful news! I’m so happy for you.”

Debbie was quiet. It was wonderful news, but for a brief moment she felt sad. She was back in her childhood again, the third time during the same short visit. Sitting in the living room of the family home one evening, trying to read a book. She was about ten, and nearly a quarter century later she could still remember the feeling. Her father was out and her sister was asleep. Doris sat at the dining room table, and Debbie saw that she was crying softly.

“What’s the matter, Mommy?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay, Mommy. Why are you crying?”

“I made Daddy upset. I feel sad. It’s nothing important.”

Debbie didn’t know why they had fought. She rarely knew what any of the fights were about, except for the ‘big one.’ Many years later, her mother had confided that she had threatened to leave, and that Ed had sought help for his gambling problem, and things were “much better now.”

I hope my marriage will not end up like theirs, she thought.

Back in the moment, it was time for dessert.

“So what will you wear?” Doris asked. “Oh, good heavens. What will I wear? Mother of the bride! I’m so excited for you. I can’t wait to meet Jeff.”