Chapter 13
G ladys called Lisa late the following morning. “How are the girls?”
Lisa battled with the long-sleeved T-shirt she was pulling over her head while holding the phone to her ear. She didn’t want to be late to her meeting with Stephanie, but she also didn’t want to miss the opportunity to talk to her mother—in case this world vanished. She had spent yesterday avoiding any radio or streaming station, afraid that the song that had started all the traveling would pop up randomly. She needed time here, and she wasn’t taking chances. “The girls are fine, Mom; they’re in school. I drove them, which was weird since I had to be surreptitious in getting directions. And then I didn’t know at what time they started. Thank goodness for Zelda who seems to know everything about everyone in this house.”
“Honey, the real purpose of my call is to wish you luck with Stephanie today. Are you nervous? What will you say? Are you going to ask her about the affair?” Gladys’s questions were rapid-fire, not giving Lisa a chance to answer.
“Mom, I have no idea. She asked for the meeting. And I don’t know if I’m confronting her about anything. I feel disingenuous questioning her about an affair with the man I know is her husband in my time. But he’s my husband now.” Lisa dropped her phone. “Aargh! Hold on,” she yelled into the air.
Finally dressed, Lisa sat on the blue bench at the foot of the bed. She leaned against the large matching blue pillows, their softness massaging the small of her back. They reminded her of the pillows her mother laid in her room when she was a child, and the fragrance of lavender sachets inside a small basket on the corner of her mother’s dresser. She remembered being left with a babysitter on the evenings when her mother worked late. On those occasions, she would sneak into her mother’s bedroom and inhale the fragrance as if it could magically transport her mother home. She closed her eyes now, transfixed by the sound of her mother’s voice.
“I’m back, Mom.”
“You sounded like you were in a war and losing badly. Now, what are you going to say?”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why are you so concerned with what I’m going to say?”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me!”
“How do you know that? You can’t see me!”
“I know you; I know how you react when I ask you a question you don’t want to answer. Mothers know their daughters.”
Lisa chuckled. “I obviously don’t know mine.”
“Never mind that. You just need a little more time with them, that’s all.”
Sighing, Lisa left the bench to check her clothes in the full-length mirror in the corner. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how much time I have with anything anymore.” The woman in the mirror gazed back with a furrowed brow. “Mom, I hate to hang up, but I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
***
The diner was bustling when Lisa arrived at noon. She couldn’t sit at home waiting, so she figured she’d stake out a table to watch Stephanie from afar when she arrived. Lisa wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation. She studied the menu, rapping her fingers rhythmically in between staring at the door.
After what felt like hours, Stephanie appeared at the hostess counter. Lisa saw her say something to the hostess, then step into the main area of the diner, looking around. Lisa stood up and waved her over. She was glad she had been early. This gave her a chance to pick the seat instead of having to take the side that Stephanie didn’t want.
Stephanie wore blue jeans, black boots, and a pink blouse with a light pink sweater over her shoulders. Her hair was slicked back in a ponytail, making her look youthful. The pink look was sweet. Her face betrayed the fashion tricks. Her eyes were puffy, despite the makeup she had obviously applied. She smiled at Lisa, but it looked almost shy, half-hearted. Not the cheerful person Lisa knew from the hospital in the past.
Lisa broke the ice. “Hi. It’s good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too. You look well. How are you feeling?” Lisa sensed sincerity in Stephanie’s voice.
“I’m feeling fine. Living the dream.”
The waitress cut in. “What do you girls want?”
Lisa leaned into Stephanie and smiled. “I studied the menu before you arrived. The soup special is mushroom barley.” She turned to the waitress. “I’ll have a chef salad and a cup of soup.”
“And you, honey?”
Stephanie took her time in responding. “I’ll just have a cup of soup, please.” She turned to Lisa. “I’m not very hungry.” She added as the waitress walked away, “And a cup of coffee, please. Black.”
As the waitress shuffled away,Lisa didn’t know where to start. The diner was loud, filled with the lunch crowd. How does one introduce a conversation about traveling through time?
Stephanie interrupted her thoughts. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I have something to ask you.”
“Ask away.”
Stephanie lowered her eyes and picked at the cuticles of her fingers. She spoke slowly. “Are you happy with your husband? I mean, do you have a good life together?”
Lisa was taken aback by the question. She straightened herself and moved the silverware around, so it was perfectly aligned with the plate in the center. Just as she was about to speak, the waitress returned carrying two bowls. “Careful, ladies. It’s hot.”
“Thank you,” they said in unison. Smiling awkwardly, they turned their attention to the soups.
Lisa stirred hers while she thought. “I don’t know how to answer that question. I think that my husband is not who I thought he was.” She waited for a response, but getting none, she continued. “To be honest, I don’t think he’s happy with me.” She looked at Stephanie, whose head was bent over her soup bowl, yet not touching it. “Why do you ask?”
Stephanie raised her head but averted her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked straight into Lisa’s. “Your husband is unfaithful to you. That’s why I ask.”
Lisa noticed the sound of her breathing as she uttered her next words. “You sound very certain. How do you know?”
With a firm voice, Stephanie responded, “He’s my lover.” She shook her head. “Was my lover—until last night.”
The noises in the diner disappeared as if the world had stopped while Lisa took in the enormous revelation. Even though she knew the truth, facing it was another thing altogether. In some corner of her heart, she had hoped she was wrong, that she had misunderstood Adam’s moods, that maybe there was something she could do in this world to make things work the way she wanted them to. Tears sprung to her eyes when she realized she had been holding out for hope.
Stephanie’s confession crushed her. She wanted to be home, in her actual home, back where she was the lover, not the recipient of this news. A baby crying at the table next to theirs brought her back to the present. She noticed that Stephanie was still looking at her, not defiantly, but defeated, embarrassed almost. She was wringing her hands and playing with a silver braided ring with a ruby rose on her right hand, twisting it, pulling and pushing it off her finger.
“Did Adam give you that ring?” Lisa’s question was barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” came the soft reply.
“And you’re in love with him?” Lisa wasn’t sure why she was asking questions when she felt she should run away, but her own conscience wanted confirmation. Not getting an answer immediately, she pressed on. “Well, are you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Stephanie played with her napkin, folding it into long rectangles. Lisa stayed quiet while she watched the other woman busy herself, avoiding direct eye contact.
When she had created a complete paper fan, Stephanie spoke again, the words rushing out as if talking would bring her relief. “It started out innocently, just some flirtation. We met at a cocktail bar where I waitressed part-time a few years ago. I was saving money to buy a condo, and the bar hours were flexible with my nursing job. I needed to do something different from nursing on my days off. He came in one night for a drink. We chatted, and he didn’t wear a wedding ring, so I thought he was single. I told him my schedule once, and then he started coming on the evenings I worked. I remembered he liked bourbon, neat. He never took a receipt, so I was used to throwing it away. Then one day, he asked for it, gave it back to me, and told me to write my number on it. So, I did. He called me. We met for coffee in another town one afternoon. We had a great time. He walked me to my car, and that’s when he kissed me. I was already smitten, but that kiss sealed it for me. I was done for.”
Stephanie paused for a drink of water. Lisa waited, knowing there was more to the story.
“We started dating after that, mostly on weeknights because I worked a lot of weekends to earn overtime pay. He convinced me to quit the cocktail bar, so I’d have more time for him, so that delayed my house purchase, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with him. Several times I asked him to stay over at night, but he never did, and I found that odd, but I didn’t question it. As the months passed, I questioned why we couldn’t do more things in public. I wanted to introduce him to my family, but he absolutely refused. That’s when I started having doubts. Why was this guy so hesitant to be seen with me? When I confronted him, he confessed he was married to you, that he had daughters, that he had a whole other life that I didn’t know about.”
Again, Stephanie took a sip of water, her hands trembling as she held the glass. “I was devastated. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. And we didn’t…for a while. But I was so lonely without him. He sent me flowers and wrote me poetry. Haiku is his specialty. Did you know that?”
Lisa smirked. “Yes, I’m aware of his poetic prowess.”
Stephanie leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, he’s quite the romantic. And persistent. I finally bought the townhouse I live in, and I agreed to let him come see me, so we could talk. He said he wanted closure, that he had done a terrible thing lying to me like that, and that he wanted to apologize in person. That he couldn’t stop thinking about me. And like I said, I was lonely, and I missed him terribly. So, I put away my pride, and he came over. He was so sincere that night. He told me that the two of you essentially lived separate lives, that he hadn’t left you because of the children, that if he divorced, you wouldn’t let him see them, that you had told him this once, and that you’d clean him out financially. Swearing he loved only me, he promised that he’d get a divorce as soon as the kids were a little older. They were babies then. He said he had spoken to a lawyer who told him he’d get joint custody if the kids were out of diapers, but that as babies you could deprive him of the right to see them. And that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his children, that I wouldn’t want a man who could do that to his daughters. He was right; I wouldn’t want someone like that. Then he continued to promise that he loved only me, and that as soon as he could, he’d divorce you, and he’d marry me.”
Stephanie stopped, almost out of breath, looked down at her hands again, and continued quietly, “I believed him. I waited and waited, but the kids were getting older, and I was losing my patience. We were having fights frequently, and he convinced me I was crazy with jealousy, irrational, out of my mind.”
Lisa didn’t want to interrupt, even though she had a million questions. She let Stephanie empty her sadness onto the table between them. “Then you showed up in my hospital, on my floor, in my care. What are the odds of that? I wanted to buy a lottery ticket that day. I was ready for a witch. He had described you that way—cold, heartless, sexless, mean, always putting him down. But you were none of those things. I could tell when I spoke to you, how you talked about him. You didn’t know who I was and had no reason to pretend with me. You were genuinely in love with him. And you were sweet.
“He came to my house on the day you were discharged. I knew it was wrong, but I still hoped that he’d tell me he was leaving you. I was waiting. I’d been waiting for years. But that night, something struck a chord in me. I couldn’t believe he had left you at home alone after having that terrible diagnosis with the pineal gland. I wondered what kind of man is this? And I threw him out. I did. I really did. You must believe me.”
Her eyes and voice pleaded for mercy. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m just so sorry.”
Lisa felt miserable now, not only for herself, but for this poor wretch of a woman who was baring her soul to her, when she was the one who should be sorry. She knew she was in the wrong, not Stephanie. She’d tampered with time and had ruined this woman’s life. Lisa reached out her arm and took Stephanie’s hand in her own, squeezed it, and held it there for a while, just looking at her, wondering how she would tell her how she was the guilty one. “It’s OK,” was the only thing that came to mind. Stephanie smiled through tears and reached out her other hand and took Lisa’s. They sat there, holding both hands across the table, the wife and the lover, both in the same role in different times.
Lisa felt warm, and her head was achy, but she didn’t want to break the connection just then. Something good had to come out of this mess she had created. But she was feeling nauseous, and she wondered if there was something wrong with the soup. She hadn’t touched the salad. That’s when she heard it. I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, that muc h is true.
That song—it was there again. It got louder with a chorus of voices. She turned; it was coming from a few tables away, where some teenage girls were singing it at the top of their lungs. Stuck here with Stephanie holding her hands, the song playing, and her vision getting blacker, she didn’t have enough time to say “Stop” or to let go. She went blank.