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When she returned home with the right kind of laundry soap and two packs of toilet paper, Alice told me the story of Julie’s visit to the Palm Hill police. I rubbed at my chin, uncertain of her conclusion that the detective had turned out to be a louse. “I don’t know him well,” I said, “but O’Connor doesn’t seem the type to string a woman along.”
“Men do whatever it takes to get what they want,” Alice said with conviction. “Once they have it—” She snapped her fingers.
My wife doesn’t like to talk about her first marriage, but I know her husband was an abuser who appeared to outsiders as a good guy and a great family man. In private, things were so bad that the day after her youngest left for college, Alice packed a bag and escaped into the night. She spent years on her own, working cash jobs and living in fear that her husband would find her and kill her, as he’d threatened if she ever left him. She lost contact with her children for long periods of time, though she sent money and called when she could. When the husband died in a motorcycle accident, she finally felt safe, but by then he’d convinced their kids that she was the one who’d broken up the family. Her son wants to know why she didn’t leave early on if things were so bad. Her daughter chooses to believe that Daddy was perfect, and Alice’s claims of abuse are imaginary.
Years of working in bars and hash houses didn’t improve Alice’s opinion of men. She’s a beautiful woman, and too many saw her as a potential conquest. To repel their crass comments, she developed a tough protective shell. That changed one afternoon when just the two of us were at the bar, and we started talking. Alice was well-read, insightful, and intelligent, and I soon realized I didn’t ever want to be without her.
I’m working to convince my wife that I’m different from that first guy and from men who treated her like she didn’t matter as a person. It’s slow going. She expects to be lied to. She anticipates a time when the “real” me will emerge and begin mistreating her. It isn’t easy, but the fact that we love each other helps.
After we had supper, I went out to the carport to clean my golf clubs at the outside faucet. A passing resident stopped to report that one of the shower heads at the clubhouse was leaking badly.
Most of the park’s maintenance work falls on Bill, who lives on the premises. Though he’s supposed to work eight to five, he gets called when somebody’s sink won’t drain at 6:00 p.m. or when the wind blows a wi-fi gizmo off kilter overnight and people wake up to no internet. One of those talented types who can figure out most anything mechanical, Bill doesn’t mind that his work hours get extended. This time, however, when the woman had stopped to tell him about the leaky shower head, Bill was not at home. I told her I’d go down with a pipe wrench and have a look. If nothing else, I could shut off the water line until Bill was ready to make the repair.
Julie was outside, seeing to some heart-shaped lights she’d strung along her carport roof in honor of Valentine’s Day. “It’s supposed to storm tonight, so I thought I’d better make sure these are fastened securely.” Climbing down from the small ladder she was using, she moved it a few feet.
“Alice told me about the trip to the police station. I guess you cleared things up somewhat.”
Julie seemed less certain of O’Connor’s intent than Alice had been. “I wonder if this stressful situation messed up his thinking,” she said. “Sometimes when you focus on one thing, it drives other things right out of your mind.”
“Do you think it’s normal to forget stuff?”
“It happens to me all the time.” Her hands glowed red as she added more duct tape to the string of lights.
Darkness made it a little easier to say what was on my mind. “Sometimes I worry about my memory.”
“Tommy Murgasson, you are not losing your faculties,” Julie said reprovingly. “You’re the smartest person I know, even if you did come home without toilet paper this morning.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Still doubtful, I asked, “But if you or Ron ever get the notion that I’m losing it, would you—? I mean, we’ve been friends a long time, so you could tell me. I’m not sure what I’d do about it, but I can’t stand the idea that people might start talking behind my back, like they did with Alta Dunn.” I tried to lighten the moment. “If I appear in public with my pants on backward, please tell me it’s time to go get my brain checked.”
“If you promise to do the same for me,” Julie said. “But honestly, Tommy, if forgetting grocery items is a sign of dementia, I’ve had it since I was twenty.”
I arrived at the shower building to find two women coming out. The first one I recognized, Gloria Van Buren. A month or so back, when she moved in, I’d stopped to welcome her to B-Bird. She’d insisted on taking a picture of the two of us. For a second, when her free hand grazed my rear end as we stood smiling at her tablet, I’d been discomfited. Since then, I’ve heard she takes pictures with everyone. The touch on my backside was probably an accident.
The woman with Gloria was someone I’d never seen before, but she had similar features and the same wavy hair, now damp from the showers.
“Good evening. Is the women’s shower empty?” Holding up my pipe wrench, I said, “I heard we have a leak.”
“Hello, Handsome,” Gloria said. “We were the only ones in there.” She put a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “This is my daughter Lorna, who’s staying with me for a while. Lorna, Tommy is head of the resident council. Isn’t he the cutest thing?”
I was raised in Texas, where complimenting women often and extravagantly is simply good manners. Being the jealous type, Alice hates it, but she wasn’t around to hear. “I’m always at my best in the company of lovely ladies.”
The younger woman only glared at me, but Gloria lit up like a lamp. “Cute and sweet,” she said, giving me the flirty eye. “Don’t mind Lorna’s bad mood. Our shower is on the fritz, and she hates using public bathrooms.”
“No shower?” I said sympathetically. “That’s a pain.”
“We’re dealing with it.” Lorna’s voice was higher than her mother’s, her tone flatter.
Many snowbirds count pennies to keep up two residences, and unanticipated repair bills can wreak havoc on a budget. It’s worse for Canadians, since the exchange rate isn’t usually on their side. “I can do simple plumbing repairs,” I said. “If you’d like me to take a look, I’m willing.”
“No.” Lorna’s tone was firm. “We called someone already.” She gave her mother a poke in the ribs, which I interpreted as a suggestion that they be on their way.
Gloria seemed to be embarrassed by her daughter’s rude tone. “Thanks for the offer, Tommy,” she said, putting a hand on my arm. “It was very sweet of you.”
Lorna’s voice rose, and she ordered, “Go, Mother. You’re keeping the man from his work with your jawing.”