Chapter Fifteen
Off the shoals of Laguna under a dissolving layer of low clouds, the ocean pulsated, rising and falling with its incessant tidal rhythm. Meanwhile, the sun streamed down from its midday zenith, bathing the south coast in winter’s yellow light. Julie headed her Mitsubishi Mirage off the PCH and up into the hills toward her dad’s condo. More than three weeks had passed since her last visit on Christmas day.
Though her life has not become meaningfully intertwined with theirs, having her dad and Lora nearby has been good for Julie. It has lent a sense of belonging, of family, and permanence to her existence and validated her choice of a homeland. But unfortunately, she and her dad have never actually been close.
With her parents divorcing when she was a young teen and her mother subsequently taking her east to Michigan, a relationship with him had been a practical impossibility. And, since moving back here to California eighteen months ago, she has yet to bridge the gap that time left between them. Consequently, their relationship has not progressed beyond the perfunctory.
She has, however, developed a new sense of appreciation for Lora. Her long-held view of Lora as home-wrecker and “snake” has been annulled by the reality of Lora herself — a loving, understanding, witty, intelligent, and sensitive human being, far different from the image her mother had forged for her out of hurt, jealousy, and retribution. And so, while her dad has remained aloof (his true nature in Julie’s opinion), her relationship with him has become coupled through Lora, a somewhat amazing coincidence, for sure.
Then again, Lora was her senior by only ten years, so it was perfectly logical that Julie might find it easier to relate to her stepmother than to her own natural father, whose coming of age coincided with the ending of the big war. Plus, she and Lora were both women.
Either way, on this visit, Julie was primarily looking forward to seeing Lora and catching up with her. If perchance an opportunity to converse and possibly connect in some meaningful way with her father presented itself, so much the better, but she harbored no false hope in that regard.
Lora answered the door when Julie arrived. As usual, the house was neat as a pin. Walking in, Julie handed her the bottle of California Merlot she’d brought and complimented her on her appearance. Lora was Julie’s height, about five-six, rather tall for an Asian woman, and today she wore heels to accentuate her stature. Her ensemble consisted of a pair of perfectly creased, deep-brown, wool-flannel slacks and a collarless silk blouse, tied at the neck.
Julie always regarded Lora as beautiful, but today she looked especially so. Her complexion was flawless. She wore no foundation at all and only had a hint of blush on her cheeks to take some roundness out of her face. Her lips were glistened with a fresh application of red-orange gloss. Her perfect eyes, dark and slightly upswept, needed no accent whatsoever. She had pulled back a cluster of her long, sable-brown hair and fixed it in back with a jeweled clasp. From there her locks cascaded down past her shoulders, shining radiantly in the ambient mid-day light, like fine spun silk. How lucky her father was to be married to such a beauty, Julie thought. And she wondered if she herself had ever been so lovely, let alone now, at the threshold of her middle age. Meanwhile Lora, who was already over fifty, appeared ageless.
“Is dad home,” Julie asked after stepping inside?
“I expected him by now, but he’s not back from the marina yet. He insisted on going fishing this morning. Days like this are too few and far between this time of year, and El Niño has been bringing in fish like crazy.”
“That’s okay. We’ll have some time to ourselves,” Julie said. “I was hoping to get you alone anyway.”
Lora invited her to the kitchen where she said they could talk while she continued the dinner preparation. She was roasting a duck and fixing some brown rice and steamed broccoli. She washed the broccoli, and, as she began breaking off the flowerettes, Julie told her about her dilemma — the whole story, right down to the passionate embrace. She didn’t even leave out Tracy’s warning to stay far away from the man she referred to as “bad news.”
Lora mostly listened, asking only a question or two here and there to be sure she was getting things straight. Occasionally, she looked directly at her stepdaughter and smiled a knowing smile.
“What would you do?” Julie asked, realizing full well that Lora was a romantic, and as such, she would most definitely have an opinion. “Should I continue to lead him on, or am I playing with fire?”
“Everyone who falls in love ends up playing with fire. You cannot have one without the other; they go hand-in-hand.” Lora wiped her fingers on a dishtowel and took a seat at the kitchen table next to Julie. “For some, the fire burns out quickly. Others get burned by it. Still others find a way to get it under control and keep it going for years. The problem is, you never know how it will go for you.”
“But, I don’t want everything I’ve worked so hard for to go up in smoke if things don’t work out. That’s the real problem, not whether I can handle him or not.”
“Then, perhaps you should break it off right away. That way you won’t be putting yourself or your job at risk. But if you’re looking for a relationship without risk, you’ll be looking for a long time.”
“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of. It won’t be long before I’ll be too old and unattractive, and guys like Mike won’t even give me the time of day.”
Lora took her hand into her own. “Oh, Julie, I think that point in your life is far off in the distance. You are still very beautiful. Any man would be proud to have you by his side.”
“You’re too kind, Lora.” She kissed her stepmother’s cheek. “You must have known you were playing with fire when you married dad. How’d you keep your marriage together all these years?”
“Now you’re giving me too much credit. I was too young to know anything at all about love. I think maybe I was just lucky. But when I first met your father I discovered one of the secrets of keeping a man’s attention.”
“I can almost guess what that is.” Julie said, laughing.
“You’d probably guess right. Men like it when you’re passionate. The more passionate you are, the more they want you around.”
“But what if you don’t feel passionate?”
“Then you’ve got to act like you are anyway. Eventually, it pays off. Believe me. Your father is a very responsive husband. I’ve made sure of it. And I don’t mind that he spends time on his boat either. Everyone needs to have some privacy, some time to just be alone with their thoughts. Myself included.”
Julie agreed with the latter axiom at least, the one about private time. “Well, one thing’s for sure,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not going to try being too passionate with Mike. Not right away, at least.”
“I can understand that,” Lora acknowledged while getting up to check the stove. “Just don’t wait too long, Jul. If you really want to hook this guy, that is. I’m sure he’s not looking for a relationship based on conversation, even if that’s what makes you feel good. Women like that are far too plentiful.”
Julie was trying to think up a response when she heard the garage door open. Shortly thereafter, her dad came in, trailing the smell of the Pacific and carrying a bucket containing three large fish. Evidently the morning had been somewhat profitable.
“Hello there girls,” he said.
“Hi dad.” Julie said.
“Take those damn things out back, Jack, before you stink up the house,” Lora told him. “And get yourself cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
Julie left shortly after dinner. She claimed to have homework, which she did. But she really just wanted some time alone. Halfway back to Newport, she stopped at the Crystal Cove State Park to take a walk on the beach in the bright afternoon sun. The day had turned warm yet there were few others who had come out to enjoy it, at least on this little stretch of stone-strewn coastline, bounded by cliffs on either end. One couple walked hand-in-hand while a woman searched for shells or perhaps some small pieces of worthwhile driftwood. Julie took off her shoes and socks and carried them as she ambled along the surf line. She loved the sounds of the waves and the gulls, the fresh salt breeze blowing back her hair, the sting of the spray hitting her face. Much like her father, she realized, she was happy being alone, pleasing herself, perhaps because of all the years when she could never find a private moment. If it wasn’t the kids needing something, it was Danny. Then there was work and meals and cleaning and laundry and shopping and chauffeuring and...
It felt good that all of that was behind her. No wonder Lora has managed to stay so young and lovely, she thought. She’s never had kids and only worked for her own amusement, certainly not out of necessity. Dad made plenty of money at Hughes.
But now, her life was at a crossroads. She couldn’t have it both ways. She either had to give up some independence or stop hoping she was going to find and keep another man. Mike, she imagined, would be at least as demanding as Danny had been. She could already see that he wanted to possess her. And he would certainly demand things of her. So she could not help wondering how long she would be willing to give him those things before developing resentment toward him for boxing her in, for keeping her from whatever life there was to be lived apart from him and his world.
She noticed two gulls taking turns chasing each other as they flew in ever-widening circles over the sea. They seemed to be in perfect balance with themselves and with nature. But they kept screeching at each other, and Julie could not tell whether they were being playful or if there was anger between them. There was a fine line between the two, she realized, a line easily crossed in every relationship. Successful couples manage to come back quickly after that happens, however — her dad and Lora, for example. Julie had been around the two of them enough to know that they were not immune from angry words. But she could also tell that the predominant mood between them was love, and from what Lora had said earlier, a passionate love at that.
It was difficult for her to imagine her father in that way, but as she did, she became overwhelmed with a feeling that she herself had been cheated. She had never experienced passionate love, except for a moment or two at a time. In her experience, love and marriage were conditions to be endured like a life-sentence which, luckily, she had been released from before turning old and gray. Now she wondered if such passion and playfulness could be found within a relationship at all, and most especially, with Mike. Or would he turn out like Danny, dominated by his own needs and desires, incapable of putting their relationship first. For that matter, could she?
She knew that she was outrunning herself again. There was no guarantee that any kind of meaningful relationship would develop with Mike. And she could very well be the one to stop it before it got started. Yet there was no denying the spark between them. So, as wrong as it might be to lead him on while trying to decide what to do, she could not force herself to keep shutting him out. She had to at least give him a try.
What a shame that men don’t come with a thirty-day money-back guarantee, she mused. Although, with this man there was more than money at stake — namely, her job and her reputation. One thing was certain, though. At some point in the not-too-distant future, she would have to start taking the risks Lora talked about. She would have to let Mike know that the feelings between them were somewhat mutual, that she might be willing to let him into her life as something more than a boss or a friend. Still, even with the benefit of Lora’s advice, she was not quite ready to pull out all the stops, not just yet anyway. But she also knew she couldn’t hold out much longer, playing the disinterested party. At some point, Mike would begin to lose interest in her. Then she might never know if a relationship with him could have worked, only that she did not give it a chance because she feared losing her own freedom and the price of having to think about someone besides herself.
Driving home, Julie began to feel a sense of guilt over her failure to respond to Danny’s last letter. She had previously made it seem as though she wanted him for a friend, which she did. But alas, she was very near the point of proving herself incapable of even the casual friendship she, herself, had suggested. All because she hated her egotistical self. How ironic, she thought. I have a problem, and he’s the one who ends up suffering. It’s just the opposite of the way things went when we were married.
Perhaps this was nature’s way of serving up retribution. But then again, she couldn’t be sure that he actually was suffering. Certainly, he couldn’t be sitting around pining away because I’ve failed to write him back. If he is, then it serves him right.
Nevertheless, she felt it now well past time to write him again. So, when she arrived home, she would make it her first order of business.
At three-fifteen she walked through the sun porch and into her living room. After opening a couple of windows to let in the fresh afternoon air, she settled down on her favorite living room chair and took her notebook computer in hand. She pulled up the file containing the letter she last wrote Danny but then subsequently never sent. After giving it a read, she decided to amend it rather than start all over again. Mostly, she’d have to soften the tone a little. She would try to seem interested in him and his life, even if she did not exactly feel that way in her heart. She could fake it and maybe eventually the feelings would follow.
First she would apologize for taking so long to write back.
Dear Danny,
Please forgive me for my slow response to your letter. I don’t have an excuse. Honestly, I’ve just been trying to get my own head together regarding relationships, and I didn’t know quite how to respond to you.
You really surprised me with your note. I thought sure my last letter would have gone unanswered. Not that I was trying to scare you off. Quite the contrary. I wanted to know if you truly had changed, like your letter seemed to indicate. I hoped you had, and then, after reading your note from “Siberia,” I felt sure you had, at least a little. (Unless you hired a ghost writer or something.)
Anyway, my dilemma is this: As I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in going back to the way things were between us before the divorce. The only way we’ll ever get along is if we can somehow start over, as different people than we used to be. And, naturally, the more I thought about it, the more I doubted that could ever be possible. I figured we would be kidding ourselves to think it could.
But then I thought that we just might have a “future” (as you’ve suggested) after all. And, that the past could be “history,” not to be repeated. This is of course what I hope is true. Still, it isn’t much of a relationship to simply write notes back and forth. But it is what we can do to separate ourselves from the past and take a step in the right direction...
She quickly re-read the letter and, satisfied that she had gotten it right this time, clicked on the send icon. It was a small risk, telling Danny that she had some interest in him, and that she wanted to work at building up their friendship all over again. Especially since by so doing she would also be proving to herself that she was an emotionally healthy person, and that she had not only survived the worst of their years and the divorce, but come out the better for it all. Plus, she suddenly felt like a risk-taker, a gambler of sorts. She felt strangely willing to put her feelings on the table while the wheel of life spun around, beyond her ability to control the outcome. Fortunately, not much was at stake here, nor could she imagine anything bad coming back to her as a result of what she had written. She only hoped to have demonstrated her willingness to be a true friend while simultaneously proving herself less self-serving than she feared she truly was.
Time would tell.