Calling Mr Lonely Hearts Read online

  “Let’s talk about it tonight,” he said.

  She ran a hand through her hair. She’d become so thin that her collarbone stood out and her small breasts sank away from their bra cups. He could hardly stand to look at her.

  “You want to go to dinner tonight? I’m sorry, you know,” she said. “Really sorry.”

  Sorry for being insane? Sorry for sucking up almost eight years of my life? Sorry for making me feel like a pissant loser? Pick one, sweetheart.

  “I’ll be home at six-thirty,” he said.

  “Thaddy still loves Alice?” she said. She’d slipped into the little-girl voice she’d often used when they were first married.

  “Of course,” he said. So easy. Automatic.

  He wasn’t one of those dentists who liked to cause people pain, even though, for most of his patients, it was their own fault that they had holes the size of the Grand Canyon in their teeth.

  Madge, the best dental assistant in Hamilton County, sat on her stool across from him, irrigating the mouth of a college-age young woman who—from what he could smell, even through his mask—hadn’t bathed in several days.

  “Hm,” he said, looking into the girl’s mouth when Madge had finished. “Hey, hand me a number twenty-three explorer, would you? I want to make sure this is nice and clean in here.” He paused, checking the tooth again with the mirror. “So these two nuns were talking, and the first nun says, ‘I was tidying up Father Murphy’s room, and, would you believe—saints preserve us—I found a pile of dirty magazines?’ Then the second nun says, ‘Oh, my. What did you do, Sister?’”

  Madge rolled her eyes at him. He tried to keep his jokes fresh, but they were together four, sometimes five, days a week, and it got tough to remember which he’d already told. “I’ve told you this one?”

  Madge nodded. “Go on,” she said.

  He continued scraping the decay out of the girl’s tooth, liking the feeling of accomplishment it gave him.

  “The first nun says, ‘Why, I threw them out, of course!’ Then the second one says, ‘When I was cleaning out Father’s room, I found a box full of condoms.’ And the first one says, ‘That’s terrible, Sister! Did you throw them out?’” He glanced at the girl’s face. She wore thick black eyeliner without mascara and had a pierced eyebrow. “Have you heard this?” he said.

  The girl shook her head slightly. It didn’t matter what she thought, really. She was stuck here in this chair and had to listen.

  “The second nun says, ‘No, of course not, Sister. I poked holes in them!’”

  The girl in the chair groaned.

  “He’s in rare form today,” Madge said.

  Thad pushed back on his stool and pulled down his mask. “Madge, you’re the love of my life,” he said. “Let’s wrap it up so this young lady can get on with her day.” As Madge prepped the amalgam, he checked the schedule taped on the wall. With any luck, and no emergencies, they’d be finished by four o’clock.

  Amber, one of his two hygienists, looked in the doorway. Her lightly freckled face was framed by strawberry blond hair pulled back in a regulation ponytail. There was a freshness about her that never seemed to fade no matter how long the day got to be.

  “You better be careful about those priest jokes,” she said. “Father Johansen’s coming in for a cleaning today.”

  “Father Johansen loves me,” he said. “He tells the dirtiest jokes in town. And Amber.” As he took in her bright green eyes, he had to force himself from letting them slide down her body, lithe, even with its just-noticeable pregnancy bump beneath her penguin-dotted smock. “Tell Jennifer to order lunch for everyone from Immos. My treat. Salads, too.”

  “You’ve got it,” Amber said. “Oh, and Mrs. Turner’s ready in four.” She smiled and turned to go back down the hall.

  “There goes my diet for today,” Madge said. “What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion,” he said.

  A boy with a broken tooth from a skateboard spill was the only emergency, but it was still almost five o’clock before he got out of the office. He and Madge and Liza were the only ones left—he didn’t make the others stick around, even though any one of them would have. His staff’s loyalty was something he was proud of.

  He found a parking space in the alley beside Wildeflowers, the florist on Victoria Square, and left the car running while he ran inside. It was a risky thing to do, he knew, but he felt like nothing could touch him today. No car-thieving punk, no nosy cop. Today was his day.

  The bells on the door jingled behind him as he stood at the counter paying for the enormous bouquet of small-headed sunflowers he’d come for. The saleswoman glanced up and nodded to whoever had come in.

  “Thad, buddy.” Someone clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  Thad turned to see Jock Connery grinning above his Brooks Brothers club tie and khaki blazer. Jock’s smile seemed to announce that his life just couldn’t get any better.

  “What’s up, Jock?” he said, amused at Jock’s hearty, firm handshake.

  “Hey, what’s up, Doc?” Jock laughed at his own joke, a joke Thad heard way too often. “We didn’t get out of this hellhole once this summer. Can you believe it? What about you and Alice?”

  “Every mother wants her kids at the dentist before school starts,” Thad said. “It was a no-go for us, too.”

  “I haven’t bought Del flowers in months,” Jock said. “But I screwed up and forgot the anniversary of our first date. Picked up a bracelet, too.” He slid a miniature Tiffany-blue box from inside a jacket pocket. “What are you in for?”

  Thad signed the credit card receipt the saleswoman offered and made a mental note to shut down his credit cards and open new ones that Alice didn’t have access to. It wasn’t likely that she’d try to hit him there, but, really, he didn’t know what to expect. He glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. She’d be getting ready for him, probably was in full makeup already.

  “Independence Day,” Thad said, picking up the bouquet.

  Jock’s eyebrows came together, giving his face a bunched, uncomfortable look. “You’re a couple months late for that,” he said.

  Some look must’ve passed over Thad’s face that Jock recognized. He wasn’t one of the city’s most aggressive divorce lawyers for nothing.

  “Shit,” he said. “No shit.”

  Thad didn’t say anything. He wanted to get out of there, but he was, strangely, enjoying this moment. If someone like Jock knew, then it was really happening.

  “Man, I always know,” Jock said. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear it, Thad. You and Alice. You two seemed solid. We were just talking about having you two over the other night.” He paused as though he might go on, but didn’t.

  Thad knew what he was thinking. Alice couldn’t fool anyone. She looked good, even acted normal most of the time: attending luncheons, working on the occasional committee, volunteering with The Literacy League. But no one really liked to be around Alice. He had just pretended the longest.

  “It happens,” Thad said. He shifted the flowers into his other hand, feeling a little dopey to be standing there with them. The movement caught Jock’s eye. At the full realization of what they were—Thad obviously hadn’t bought them for himself—Jock’s face got a shade redder.

  “Listen,” he said. “You call me when you want something handled. Del may fuss, but I’m your man. Right?” He waved the saleswoman over, signaling the end of their conversation. “You just let me know.”

  Although the house was in Mt. Adams, it wasn’t one of the expensively renovated ones with an unobstructed view of the Ohio. Its only view of the river and the opposite shoreline was from a tiny alcove window on the third floor. But there was a frequent breeze on the hillside, even on the hottest of days, which made it pleasant.

  Mt. Adams was a village within the city, with narrow, curving streets and colorful houses that crowded together as though trying to make room for everyone who wanted to live there. People walked in the evenings or sat on their
porches—at least the ones who hadn’t renovated their houses to the point of unfriendliness, with enclosed patios and rooftop gardens. Even though he’d been coming up here for more than a year, he hadn’t dared to show his face in the village’s trendy taverns, art galleries, or even a dry cleaners. Now, he didn’t care.

  He stood on the porch, noticing for the first time that it needed painting. He thought he might do it himself. Alice had laughed at him when he’d once suggested that he do some of the painting when they renovated the house after her father died. His suitcase rested on the boards beside him, the flowers were tucked beneath one arm, and the house key was in his hand, but he hesitated. This was a big damned deal, he knew. He’d wanted it for so long, and here he was, where he thought he’d never be. Be careful what you wish for.

  The door opened and Amber was there, a T-shirt stretched over her baby bump. He remembered they’d bought the shirt when they’d gotten away for an overnight at the B and B she loved down near Maysville. It was there that she’d told him she was pregnant.

  “Look at you,” she said.

  He wanted to take her in his arms right there and make love to her on the porch, not giving a damn who might see. Instead, he held out the flowers. He had wanted his decision to leave Alice to be a surprise to Amber, and he had thought of a hundred ways to tell her, but now he didn’t have the words. Seeing the smile on her face, he knew he didn’t have to say anything at all.

  CHAPTER 6

  Week 17 1/7

  Del stood in the cereal aisle at Wild Oats trying to figure out the difference between the four different kinds of organic cereal bars on the shelf in front of her. One of the cereal bars had nineteen grams of sugar, which seemed excessive to her—she might as well give Wendy sugar-coated corn flakes or a Pop-Tart. Another one had seventeen grams, but also contained high fructose corn syrup. What was it doing in an organic store? The third was gluten-free, which seemed a little disgusting—who knew what was holding it together?

  Wendy sat in the basket of the grocery cart playing with a sticker book.

  “These are furry cats, but some cats don’t have any fur,” she said, holding out the book. “Daddy says cats are smelly and they make BMs in a box.”

  “Yes,” Del said, distracted. “Cats are furry.”

  “Hunter has a cat,” Wendy said.

  “Some people do,” Del said. She picked up the fourth box. It had only eleven grams of sugar. She glanced at Wendy. Fresh blueberries tended to make her stool loose and grainy, and so she didn’t feed her a lot of them, but a few in a cereal bar shouldn’t be so bad. She put the box in the cart.

  “Let’s find some fish for dinner, shall we?” she said. “Cats love to eat fish.”

  Wendy had taken one of the cat stickers—a Siamese whose long brown tail she’d accidentally torn off—and wrapped it around her index finger. She knelt in the cart, waving her finger in the air and making meowing noises.

  “Shhhhh,” Del said. “Quiet meows, please.”

  They had forty-five minutes before Wendy’s ballet class at Miss Trefford’s Dance and Deportment School. She would be cutting it close if she took the groceries home first, and Wendy got fretful if she arrived at the dance studio to find that all the other girls were wearing their leotards and she was still in her street clothes. Once she had complained to Jock that Mommy Del had “hurried upped,” causing her to fall down in the parking lot and scrape her hands and knees. That had been almost a year before, and Del was sure that Jock had probably forgotten it, but Wendy mentioned it every time they were running late for dance class. But if she didn’t get home first today, the dairy stuff would spoil.

  She looked at her watch. They would be okay if they got in line now. She would have to think of something else for dinner.

  They were about to swing into a checkout when she almost ran the cart into one belonging to another dance class mother. What was her name? Del just thought of her as a Donna Karan Mommy. Her clothes were always casual, yet styled in sharp, chic lines and always in black or white or denim with the occasional dash of red thrown in for whimsy.

  “Why, Miss Wendy,” the woman said. She beamed a natural-hued lipstick smile at Wendy and bowed forward to speak directly to Wendy’s face. “All ready for dance class? Trexie’s at Mom’s Morning Out, but she can’t wait to get there.”

  Wendy stopped meowing and blinked at the woman, considering.

  “We just have to get our groceries home and we’ll be right there,” Del said. Put-together women like Trexie’s mother made her feel as though she might as well be wearing a faded housedress instead of the perfectly lovely clothing she was actually wearing. Unlike Roxanne and Alice, she’d never developed a strong style of her own (of course, Alice’s was newly acquired and filtered through a personal shopper). Other women’s clothes often looked like better ideas to her.

  “Oh, I’m so glad I ran into you,” the woman said. “I’m getting a little petition together to give to Miss Julie at the school. I think that four hours for a recital is just too long for these kids, don’t you? I don’t see why we should have to sit through twenty or thirty other performances, even if they are each only five minutes long. Wasn’t it ridiculous last spring? I have it right out in the car. I think other people would be interested, too.”

  “Fine,” Del said. “That would be fine.”

  “I just knew you’d agree,” the woman said. “Maybe you could ask some of the other parents to sign it? After I drop Trexie off at class, I’ve got to scoot on to a meeting. Then you can just give me a call when you’ve talked to the other parents. Or just drop it in the mail to me.”

  “Mail it to you?” Del wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about, but she was slowly realizing that she was being asked to do something. Although “asked” wasn’t quite the word.

  “You’re a doll,” the woman said. Then she pointed at the cereal bars in the cart. “I’m so impressed you can get Wendy to eat those things. It’s all homemade food for Trexie. Mommy gets tired of making oatmeal or muffins every morning, but the darlings are so worth it, aren’t they?” She wheeled the cart into the next checkout lane. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot!”

  Del knew she should feel angry, that the woman had just dumped something on her that she didn’t really have time to do. But, actually, she probably did have time. She told herself she was being too sensitive.

  “Here, Wendy,” she said. She picked up the box of inadequate cereal bars and handed it to Wendy. “Put this on the belt for Mommy Del.”

  “How was dance class today, sweetie?” Jock said, picking Wendy up from the floor. She allowed him to kiss her on the cheek, but then strained away from him. “What did you learn?”

  “Put me down, Daddy,” Wendy said. “I have to go see my bird.” Reaching the floor, she turned and ran to the hallway. Del and Jock both listened as she made her way up the front stairs.

  “It went great,” Del said. “We were even on time.” She didn’t mention the petition in her purse. He would just tell her that she shouldn’t let herself be taken advantage of. Although she knew he’d be right, she just hadn’t seen a polite way to get out of it.

  “Of course you were,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist. “You’re doing a lot better, and I’m very proud of you.”

  “There’s just so much to do,” she said. “I need more hours in the day.”

  He smiled. She knew he didn’t actually think she had a lot to do, but that was okay. She finished snipping off the ends of the flowers he’d brought her and arranged them in a vase.

  Wendy was in bed, and they sat talking over the remains of their dinner. She had found some shrimp in the freezer and put together a quick mix of tomatoes, oregano, garlic, feta cheese, and olive oil to serve on some pasta with the shrimp. Fortunately, she’d tossed a sourdough baguette into the shopping cart at the last minute before running into the Donna Karan Mommy. (She reminded herself to look up the woman’s name on the dance class phone list.) But she had
n’t eaten much. Jock had given her the bracelet—platinum with a diamond heart charm—before they’d finished their first glass of wine.

  “I was just teasing about the anniversary of our date,” she said. “I really wish you hadn’t.” Still, she couldn’t keep her fingers off of the diamonds. She knew she didn’t deserve such a gift, but Jock insisted that she have nice jewelry. There was a whole safe-deposit box full of his former wife’s jewelry that would be Wendy’s when she turned twenty-one, except, he’d told her, for the pearls she’d get at sixteen.

  “I know. I just wanted the excuse,” he said. When he took her hand and held it to his lips, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Listen,” he said. “I don’t want to spoil our evening. Maybe you already know about this.”

  “What is it?” Her smile faded.

  “It’s about Alice,” he said. “Alice and Thad.”

  “Did something happen to Alice?” She’d felt bad about her last conversation with Roxanne. Alice was a pain, but she was still their Alice. “Is she okay?”

  “I’d say probably not,” he said.

  “Open it,” Alice said.

  “But it’s not Christmas yet,” Del said. It was the week before Christmas of their sophomore year and she hadn’t yet bought Alice’s gift. She only had about five dollars left in her Christmas envelope, and she knew Alice would expect something expensive. There was the new Janet Jackson album, but she didn’t know if she could afford a CD. Maybe a cassette.

  “I got it in Paris,” Alice said. “I can’t wait!”

  “You’re such a dork sometimes,” Del said, embarrassed.

  “I know, I know,” Alice said. She was practically bouncing where she sat on Del’s bed. She’d gained about five pounds on her trip, but she had a cute haircut and was wearing makeup that made her look older. Her bright coral cashmere sweater had a boat neck and extra-long sleeves that she had pushed up to her elbows. It wasn’t flattering, but she was trying hard.

  The box was pink, with a black velvet ribbon. Del untied the ribbon, setting it aside for her mother’s gift-wrap supply box, and lifted the lid. When she laid back the finely striped tissue paper, she found a sweater just like the one Alice was wearing. She took it out and held it to her chest. The cashmere was as soft as her baby brother’s curls.