Memories in the Attic Read online

  She caught sight of his wristwatch. The digital face indicated a quarter after seven. “Wait long? Of course, you waited long. I was supposed to be here at―”

  “Not long.” He went on stroking her hands.

  “We should order. You must be hungry. I know I am.”

  He gave her a strange look, parted his lips as if to say something, but instead searched her face. For what she didn’t know. A sign? An explanation? A good excuse? She never had to make excuses before. He never doubted her.

  She hunted for the nearest waiter. When she clicked her fingers, he swept by without a backward glance and disappeared into the kitchen. She looked at Joel again. He was brooding. Holding back. “What’s bothering you?”

  “I was going to ask the same of you.”

  Interrupting the strain between husband and wife, the waiter reappeared. He wore a white shirt and checkered tie over a washer board chest. His bright red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Kendra stared at Joel but said to the waiter, “Can you clear away this mess? Also, the menus seem to have walked off.” She charmed him with her broadest smile, the same smile she had given the stiff maître d’. “Also, a carafe of your house merlot.”

  “The wine doesn’t suit?” He nodded toward the half-empty decanter.

  Joel poured cream into one of the coffee cups and stirred. “Please bring the lady whatever she wants.” He set the spoon down on the white linen, leaving a stain on the cloth, one of many.

  The waiter hesitated for a moment before signaling a busboy. Brisk and efficient, they set to work. While the setting was freshened, Kendra leaned forward. “That coffee must be cold by now. Besides―”

  “Still warm.” To demonstrate, he lifted the cup to his lips and drank.

  She spoke over the clatter of dishes being taken away. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

  His eyes did not leave her. He barely blinked. The pupils of his eyes were large, obscuring the blue irises “I was waiting for you to tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Where you’ve been.”

  “I told you.”

  The waiter returned with a butter knife and scraped away the crumbs. She smiled up at him. He didn’t seem to notice.

  When they were alone again, she said, “What the hell’s the matter?”

  Joel avoided answering her. Instead he removed his wire-rimmed glasses and buffed the lenses with the tip of his tie.

  “Does that mean nothing’s the matter? Or you don’t want to say?”

  The waiter reappeared and presented a menu.

  Kendra glanced at the cover and handed it back. “Not the dessert menu.”

  He plucked it away and vanished, showing his irritation with a shake of his head.

  She tore her eyes away from his departing back. “The staff must be on strike.” That must be it, she told herself. That’s what was wrong. The staff had a disagreement with management and was taking it out on the diners.

  “The idea was to get me away from work. Not bring it to me.”

  “Well, excuse me, Counselor.” His head jerked up. His stare was pointed. She did not know what to say. The waiter returned and handed her a dinner menu. She mumbled her thanks without glancing up. He sped away. She leaned forward and whispered. “Is something going on at work? Has your father been getting on your back? Or maybe the Salvador case―”

  He shrugged. Whatever was on his mind, he did not want to talk about it.

  “You’re tired. So am I.” She glanced at her menu and noticed he was missing his. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “Not hungry.”

  “You went out with Jordan,” she said, running her eyes over the menu. “To talk shop. You stopped off at the club before coming here. You should’ve said something. He’s your father. Why should I mind?”

  “I didn’t stop off at the club. Or have dinner with Dad.”

  The waiter returned and cleared his throat. Kendra asked about the specials. He reeled off a rehearsed list.

  “What the previous diners ate looked good. Was that the salmon piccata?” She smiled in Joel’s direction. “Except with angel hair pasta. And marinara sauce on the side.”

  “You wish to order the salmon?”

  “Did they forget to swim upstream this year?”

  “Yes, madam. The salmon.” He scurried away without taking the menu.

  She leaned forward, asking Joel, “Is it me?”

  He was about to say something when the wine steward arrived with a fresh carafe and stepped through the proscribed ritual of allowing the lady a first taste before pouring generous amounts into both glasses.

  When he left, Kendra raised her glass for a toast. Joel was sitting back, arms crossed, eyes hooded with fatigue. She blinked down at his untouched wine glass. “You’re not drinking?”

  “Had one too many.”

  “I wasn’t that late. Fifteen minutes―”

  “The reservations were for five,” he said. “To beat the dinner crowd, you said.”

  Almost two hours ago.

  Her mind scrambled. She tried to think. Had she missed something? Did they miscommunicate? “We were meeting at seven. I told you. I left a message. We had to put finishing touches on the presentation.”

  He reached forward, but his fingers fell short of the wine glass. The deep color of the merlot shimmered in the candlelight.

  “So you didn’t go to the club. You’ve been here the entire time.” She feared asking but did anyway. “Did you go ahead without me?”

  He didn’t answer. Sweat joined the pasty whiteness of his face. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  “What did you order?”

  He was slow to say anything but eventually came out with it. “Shrimp scampi.”

  “I see.” Her vision swept over the table. The plates, silverware, and glasses were in their proper places. Dinner for two. Seven-twenty-five. Friday evening. A day in October. All as it should be. To trust her eyes, her memory, and her sensory perception put at risk her very sanity. “I see. You ate with Jordan. Why didn’t you tell him I was coming? We could’ve eaten together.”

  Deciding he was in a drinking mood after all, Joel drained his glass. Very slowly and very steadily. When he set the glass back down, he did so with absolute precision, sliding it across the tablecloth before withdrawing his fingers with utmost care, his eyes impenetrable.

  “Or did you bring along an associate. What’s-her-name. Your new little law clerk.”

  “Tina Ambrose.” With the hands of a surgeon, he refilled his glass, twisting the carafe in the same fussy manner the wine steward had applied. “And no, I didn’t have dinner with her. Our dinner reservations were for five. To beat the rush.”

  “For you and whoever ordered the salmon.”

  “For me,” Joel said. “And you.”

  “Seven. I distinctly remember it was for seven.”

  “Five sharp.”

  “You’re not saying that I―?”

  She replayed the evening in sequence. Nothing was amiss. She left the office at six-forty-five. Late, but not that late for a dinner date at seven. She hit the street at ten to. She walked from Michigan Boulevard to Madison Avenue and headed west. All of twenty minutes counting stoplights. She tried to reach Joel, but he didn’t pick up. She noticed the flasher. The gentleman past his prime. His trophy girlfriend. The maître d’ who couldn’t find the reservation until he flipped his book back several pages. The table covered with the leftovers of an intimate dinner for two. One of diners wearing burgundy lipstick; the color Kendra favored; Midnight Rage.

  “Joel?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Who did you have dinner with?”

  He took a steady breath. The fragrance of melting candle wax saturated the air. Neighboring conversations solidified like cold soup. The romantic lighting amplified a notch.

  “You,” he said. “No one but you.”

  Chapter 3

  STRANGERS STARED AS Kendra bolted to her f
eet and fled from the dining room. Joel called out her name just the once.

  The stairs toppled before her as she made a mad dash for the exit. Unable to breathe, she clutched at her chest.

  When at last she rushed into the night, darkness slapped her across the face. Awakening from a nightmare of a thousand deaths, she breathed in cold, searing air and rejoiced in the sharpness. Her eyes flew across the cityscape. Downtown wore the clothes of desertion. She did not recognize anything. Frantic, she reconnoitered the terrain and gathered her bearings. Eventually she turned towards the sunset that was no more. The wind was fiercer. A freezing drizzle soothed her burning cheeks. After less than a block of sprinting, Kendra began to hyperventilate. She pulled up and squeezed the sharp spasm in her side. The drizzle turned into a soaking rain. The animal inside her wanted to cry out and bay at an invisible moon. She gladly pushed her face to the sky and let the rain cascade down on her.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder followed. The downpour changed into a sheet of steel. She had no idea where she was going, no destination mind, just to run until the rage consumed itself.

  The el platform loomed ahead like a fat caterpillar, black against a blacker sky but stippled with confetti lights. She had galloped halfway up the stairs, her thighs burning, when Joel grabbed an arm and wrenched her around. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Making a scene in public like that!” He was angry. More than angry. He was enraged.

  “Tell me!” she yelled over the thunder. “Tell me you’re not seeing another woman!” It was the only logical conclusion. He was having an extramarital affair and doing a bad job of hiding it.

  He made a backing-off gesture, both hands raised, palms pressed forward. The gap of two stairsteps divided them. She wasn’t used to looking down at him. The skewed angle framed a different Joel Swain, this one contrite and beside himself with anguish. “You called,” he said. “Around four. Told me your meeting was cancelled.”

  “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I rearranged my schedule.”

  “We had a date for seven. So I was a little late. It’s no reason for you to―”

  “Five. You changed it to five.”

  “—play a mind game on me!”

  “You told me not to be late. Said you had a special surprise.” He blinked up. His face was clouded with several emotions. Confusion. Agony. Sorrow. “Don’t you remember?”

  “You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

  “You think I’m making it up?” His voice, normally a tenor, screeched an octave higher.

  “So you’re seeing someone else. I understand. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Even while her heart was exploding, she made excuses for him. Tried to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal. The marriages of all her friends were falling apart. Why shouldn’t hers?

  “I’m not seeing anybody else.”

  “You don’t have to sneak around. Or make up stories. I can take it. I’m a modern girl.”

  “I’m not making anything―”

  “Hell, we only invested three years of marriage. No big loss.” Her burst of laughter tasted sour in her mouth. “Irreconcilable differences, isn’t that how it goes? You’re the expert.”

  The driving rain melted his clear eyes into slush. He had pocketed his glasses, rendering him incapable of seeing her true rage in all its harsh lines and pinched nerves. His own outrage having been spent, he had given up accusing her of God knows what. Forgetfulness? Fickleness. Madness?

  “I’ll even make it easy for you,” she said. “You can have everything, including the cat. Seeing he’s a roamer too, you should get along just fine.”

  His face turned into the mask of a wrongfully accused husband. He reached out and snatched her into his arms, bringing her down to meet him. Rivulets of wetness poured down his cheeks. He shook her. Shook her hard. “Tell me … tell me you remember.”

  “So says Joel Swain, attorney for the prosecution, smooth operator.” She struggled to break free.

  He clasped an arm around her waist and held her so close she could not look anywhere else but into his face. His breath was rapid, his expression fierce, his grip constricting. He grazed his lips against her ear and whispered, “It’s okay. Really. I’m not mad. Just worried.”

  “Just tell me the truth. I can take it. I’m a big girl.” She drew back and threw out her arm. She heard the slap before realizing the palm of her hand had struck him flat across the face.

  He jerked his head aside. Clenched his jaw. Blinked as if to hold back tears. Stung by insult as much as pain, Joel slowly brought his face back around. The sad look in his eyes cut her in half. He pounded down the stairs. When he reached street level, the night swallowed him whole.

  Her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the stairstep and dropped a weary head into trembling hands. Numbness crawled up from her toes into her fingertips. Hail pinged against the metallic roofing above. Rain lacerated the street below. She was prepared to sit there until dawn, but to do so was this side of insanity. Since Kendra McSweeney Swain considered herself a sane woman, she pressed to her feet and trudged the rest of the way up, moving like an old woman with arthritis.

  Reappearing out of the night, Joel drew beside her and paid for both fares. A northbound train had just rolled out. In silence, they waited on the platform for the next train. City lights glittered through the downpour.

  “The car …”

  “We’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” he said.

  The high beam of another northbound train snaked around the corner. Other passengers joined them on the platform. They too huddled against the driving gusts. The train chugged into the station. The doors slapped open. Everybody piled inside and searched for seats.

  The interior lights glared brighter than noontime. Though the train was largely empty, Kendra refused to sit. A pole near the exit became the strength that kept her erect. The el train groaned away from the station, its iron wheels stroking the tracks and quieting the thumping of her heart. Swaying with the motion, Joel closed his fists around her hands. She sniffed aftershave and the sweat of spent emotions. Garlic lingered on his breath. The sweetness of wine seeped through his pores, the kind of odor winos reek of, usually after spending the night in a stairwell and conversing with the moon. She expected a whispered cliché or a gushy kiss, but it was just the reverse. He wanted a gesture from her. A token of affection or a syrupy endearment. She had nothing to give him.

  He pried her fingers away and took her hand. She allowed him to lead her to the rear of the car. When he found the conductor’s cabin locked, he threw open the connecting door into the next car. Kendra resisted, skittish of making the leap. Grasping her hand more tightly, he guided her safely across the shifting platforms. They strolled through the length of the adjoining car, Joel taking up the rear. Passengers glanced up with disinterest. In the third car over, they switched places once more. After walking the length, he squired her into an empty conductor’s compartment.

  The train pulled into the Merchandise Mart station. Passengers hopped onboard, their muffled voices arriving from a distance. From a different car, the conductor’s voice squawked over the intercom. The doors shut in unison. The train pulled out of the station, wheels squealing at high frequency and lights flickering in answer to intermittent electrical power.

  Unexpectedly, everything went dark, extinguished like blown-out birthday candles.

  Kendra barely made out Joel’s profile in the dark. They fitted themselves lengthwise across the narrow bench seat. He reached beneath her clothing and located the seed of her wrath, nestled between pressed thighs. She protested, but he methodically nudged down her panties. His body weight made flight impossible. Her mewling complaints went unheard. Besides, she didn’t want him to stop.

  The train churned past a deserted el station. The platform lights switched his face on and off, highlighting the profile of the man Kendra fell in love with five years ago. Soggy outerwear frustrated her urgency to bring
him nearer. She leaned against the clattering window, raised her knees, and braced her pumps against the inner wall. They wrapped each other in damp wool and polyester while the compartment door rattled with a steady hammering impossible to suppress. She counterbalanced his immoderation with a dose of her own, yearning to make the many fractious noises women release during lovemaking. She did not dare in a public place. There were limits to impropriety, even for her.

  When the train rolled into a station and braked to a stop, Joel collapsed against her exposed breast. Beneath layers of clothing, her flesh received the exquisite caress of his fingers while his body, not quite ready to relinquish ownership, throbbed inside her. Kendra stroked the outline of his strong jaw. Beard stubble rasped beneath her touch. He reacted like a babe at its mother’s breast and transferred the suckling to her fingertips, and then to her encasing palm.

  An electrical short sputtered the train lights. The outer doors clacked open. A minute later, they slapped back together. When the train lunged away from the station, the cabin plunged into renewed darkness, sealing married lovers inside an illicit cocoon.

  She retreated to the merry-go-round of her childhood, reluctant to appear frightened in front of the boy propelling the whirligig on a fast run. She thrust her face upward and tracked the gyrating sun across a sky that was blue as a diamond. Her heart skipped a beat. Then a second beat. Her panic accelerated. She wanted off. Her only choice was to jump. If she let go, the centrifugal force would surely rocket her across the playground, tumbling her with humiliation and bruised pride. She clung to her handhold, praying for deliverance. The crowns of trees smeared the clouds across the sky. She imagined herself home, where it was safe, and where her mother was preparing a bologna sandwich and pouring a tall glass of cold milk. She sat at the towering kitchen table, her tiny hands reaching up to the red Formica surface and her gym-shoed feet dangling off the chrome chair. She smiled at two green frogs capable of spitting salt and pepper when called upon. Her mother placed a comforting hand at her neck and delivered a cooing kiss to her cheek. And yet the loving care of a devoted mother failed to stop her fingers from slipping off the table. She was losing her grip on the spinning carousel and falling into a bottomless pit ….