Works and Days

“So you were married too?” Patti said, pretending she’d never seen his ring.

“Um hum,” Chuck nodded.

“Divorced?”

“She died,” Chuck told her.

“Oh, my God,”

“It was a little over two years ago,” Chuck said.

“Her name was Jane. Nice sensible name. But she was just... wild. And fun and crazy. You remind me of her. Except, she had long golden hair, not just blond, golden, and these beautiful green eyes,”

“She looked like you,”

Chuck gave her a funny look, and then nodded reflectively and said, “People did call us the Twins sometimes. I guess we did look alike.”

“You loved her a lot.”

Chuck nodded.

“So much you’re still wearing your ring.”

Chuck looked at his finger, and then, puzzled, said, “Does it offend you?”

“No,” Patti shook her head with a slow certainty, taking a sip of wine. “I think it’s very... sweet. Not the way that people mean when they say, ‘Isn’t that cute?’ but really, really sweet.”

“Tell me about your husband. Soon to be Ex.”

“Oh,” Patti shook her head. “There’s nothing glamorous to tell you.”

“I guess that’s why he’s almsot the ex?”

Patti laughed and nodded ruefully.

“He didn’t leave me,” Patti said. “I should probably just say that now. I threw him out.”

“Before you throw me out, too, why don’t you tell me what he did?”

Patti sighed, “I had not planned to talk about Thom, tonight.”

“Well then don’t,” Chuck shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Patti put out a hand. “It’s partly my fault. I think. I guess it’s always partly your fault. Thom and I used to be in love—obviously. He was my husband. And when we married I was doing graduate studies, and he was a senior, and then our son was born and I went from graduate work to teaching. I earned my doctorate, started teaching.  I was really the one supporting the family, and I felt bad about that because Thom didn’t have a chance to shine, and I wanted him to. We moved back here, where Thom grew up. I took a job at the little junior college. Thom got a nice job in Grand Rapids, and when he got that job, that’s when he started to change. He got a life, and he got influence at our church, and his life wasn’t me or the family. I kind of let that slip by. I let Thom become Thom.

“And Thom becoming Thom didn’t matter until I lost my job. Then it hurt, because it was then I realized that he’d pushed me—and Russell—to the back of his life. It wasn’t our life anymore. He’d do things like call from the office and say, ‘I’m bringing home six of my closest friends, why don’t you whip something together nice.’ And I would. I tried to talk to him gently, and sometimes loudly. But it was just like he was incapable of listening. I needed someone there. Russell was it, and I was not about to make my only child my sounding board, not with the troubles boys have already.

“So one night, about two weeks ago, I was sleeping on the couch when I woke up and realized that things couldn’t go on this way, and if Thom wouldn’t hear me, then Thom had to go.”

Chuck Shrader was looking at Patti intently, and Patti was afraid that maybe he was judging her a failure. She was waiting for him to speak.

“It is a terrible thing,” Chuck Shrader said, at last, “to be ignored.”

 

It was still warm at eleven o’clock when Chuck brought Patti to the doorstep.

“It’s getting to be my bedtime,” he told her, stifling a yawn. “This was such a pleasure, but I’ve gotta be up early.”

“For work?”

“For school.”

Patti looked at him puzzled, “I don’t even know what you do.”

“Then we’ve got lots to discuss on our next date. I’m a school teacher. Not a lofty professor such as thou art. Thou art? Was that correct?”

“I’m a psychologist. Check with someone in English.”

Chuck took Patti’s hand.

“I teach at Our Lady of Mercy.”

Patti snatched her hand away, “My son goes there!”

“He does? Russell’s his name?”

“Russell Lewis—” Patti watched something in Chuck’s face. “Am I dating one of my son’s teachers?”

“No,” Chuck shook his head, looking mystified. “I know who he is. That’s all.”

“Is Russell famous?”

Chuck smiled and said, “You might say that.”

“So is it serious?” Felice demanded the next morning.

“It was just one date,” Patti said. “What does that mean?”

“Did he kiss you?” Jackie asked, her eyes lighting up as she rubbed her hands together.

“No.”

“What!” Felice was unimpressed and indignant.

“He is a respectable man,” Patti said. “He’s a widower. And a schoolteacher.”

“Then he likes kids,” Jackie nodded in approval. “Does he have any?”

“No,” Patti said, “and he teaches at Russell’s high school.”

“That is so...” Jackie shivered, “storybook.”

“So, how was the big date last night?” Jeff Cordino demanded, ribbing Chuck.

In his classroom, Chuck confided, smiling broadly, “She’s incredible,”

The students were coming in. Chuck Shrader became quieter. “And you’ll never guess who she was?”

“The Duchess of York?”

“Close...” Chuck said, “but even better. She’s your Russell’s mom.”

“What!” Jeff’s eyes flew open.

“Something wrong, Jeffy boy?” the older man patted his friend on the shoulder.

Jeff recovered, knowing that the students would be watching, and listening.

“I knew that Russell’s parents were having problems. I knew that they were splitting up. I—this means it’s serious.”

“I kind of hope it is. Patti’s a great woman.”

“She is,” Jeff nodded vacantly. “I don’t know her as well as I should. But her hus—almost ex, whatever—Thom. He’s my confirmation sponsor.”

“Shit, Jeff!”

“Thom doesn’t really tell me everything,” Jeff said. “So I didn’t know how... things had fallen apart.”

“Is he your friend?” Chuck asked with concern.

“Russell—”

“No,” Chuck shook his head with a little impatience. “This Thom? Thom Lewis?”

Jeff Cordino’s mouth was open a little as he tried to come up with an answer.

“I—ah... Yes. He is.”

“Now what we need,” said Faye, at the other end of the desk she and Chayne were bringing through the front door, “is a literary society! Where do you want this?”

“In front of the window.”

“Good idea. Speaking of good ideas, was it really a good idea to send Russell to school today?”

“It was his choice,” Chayne shrugged after they put down the desk. He sighed and looked out of the window where the yellow box of a Ryder truck peeked up over the shrubbery. “I guess being away for the better part of a week made him want to go.”

Chayne looked around the living room that was still pretty much empty and said, “with the stuff we brought back, I may not even have to get Grandma’s things out of storage.”

“Did you really throw down all of your money on this house and tell your parents you were taking it?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”

“That’s beautiful.”

This literary society you’re talking about—”

“For a little podunk town it’s a lot of writers here, and artists and musicians and stuff like that,” said Faye.

“That’s true. But my question was... how long are you going to be here?”

“Are you trying to throw me out?”

“Not at all.”

“I think I’ll stay a week or so,” Faye said. “Because I’m Faye Mathisson and I can do stuff like that.”

“Well can you help me bring in that sofa, Faye Mathisson?”

After swearing, Faye said she could.

They had both collapsed on the sofa when Chayne asked Faye how she was going to form this literary society.

She took a hand through her tired hair and smiling said, “My feminine wiles!”

Then, “Oh, shit.”

“Um?”

“I might have to use my feminine wiles on that angry little man coming up the stairs.”

“What?” Chayne started wearily, and looked out of the large picture window to see Thom Lewis.

“Oh, shit,” Chayne muttered, and then there was a pounding on the door.

“He’s rude,” Faye commented.

Chayne slowly pushed himself up while Thom hammered on the door, and now Chayne was standing before Thom.

“Yes?” Chayne said calmly, looking Thom up and down.

“I want to see my son.”

“He’s at school—with it being eleven a.m. and him being a fifteen year old. Speaking of it being eleven a.m., shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Don’t you tell me what I ought to be doing!” Thom said, pushing his way into the house. “What you shouldn’t be doing is carting my child around the country with you. And let me remind you, though you never seem to remember this and no one has a problem with you forgetting it: he is my child!”

“Really?” Chayne said calmly. “The way that’s my couch, the way that’s my desk and that’s my easy chair? The way Patti’s your wife—oh, wait a minute—”

“You’re an asshole!” Thom hissed.

“You really need to get the fuck out of my face.”

Thom looked like he was contemplating hitting Chayne. Chayne looked expressionless.

Suddenly, Thom shouted, “He’s my son! Not your’s Chayne! He’s my son! Russell’s mine and I’m his father no matter how much you pretend you’re his dad—”

Chayne laughed.

“Now you hold on a minute, Thom Lewis.”

“Chayne—”

“I said hold,” he lifted a finger, “on.”

“And when he says hold on—” started Faye from the sofa.

“Faye! Thom. Now if I wanted a son I would have had one by now. I know I’m not Russell’s father, and wouldn’t want to be. That’s your job, but it’s one you’ve been neglecting for a long time. And I never turned Russell against you. In fact, when he didn’t want to see you the other weekend, I made him go to Jackie’s apartment.”

“Then why didn’t he come?”

Chayne’s eyes went wide. He was about to come up with an answer when Thom continued, “Because you’ve always got to shine and be amazing and be Chayne and have everybody love you and make a name for yourself. You’ve got to be better than everyone even if it’s me, even if it means making me look like nothing in the eyes of my son next to you.”

“You think I’m jealous of you?” Chayne asked.

Thom was quiet, and then he said, “Yes... Chayne. I think you are. I think you want to be Russell’s father, and you’re not.”

“Would you like to hear something?”

“No, Chayne, I would not. I don’t want to hear a thing you have to say.”

“You haven’t in fifteen years. “

“That’s right,” said Thom.

“Well then you can get out.”

“You just take him to Chicago like me and Patti don’t mean anything, like we don’t know how to raise a child—”

“That’s right, now turn around and get out.”

Thom stood there facing Chayne.

“Get out, Thom.”

Thom breathed in, and then turned around and left.

He had not gone far down the path before he was hit square in the head by roof tile, and turned around to see Chayne shut the door and mutter, “Asshole.”