After Life (18 page)

knows? At least we'll be moving away from it.

She sat silently for a moment and then leaned back in defeat.

What about all the things that disturbed you? The team, the community

.. .

I had those boys turning today, Jess. It took a lot more effort, but

they were different. I think they're beginning to understand, and onr

face.

just listen for a minute, Jess. I did go there to resign, just as we

discussed. I began by bawling him out for his behavior with the team

after the game.

So?

He didn't get upset with me. In fact, he admitted he had been wrong. He

said he had gotten caught up in the rivalry and excitement just like

everyone else. He promised not to have anything more to do with the

running of the team.

And you believe that'

I don't see why he would lie about it, Jess. Then, contrary to what we

thought, he was terribly upset about my leaving. He went on and on

about how well I was doing and how quickly and enthusiastically the

other staff members have taken to me.

Lee, he was just saying these things because it will be hard for him to

find a replacement, she insisted but he couldn't quell his new feeling

of pride.

I don't know; the school family has been very congenial and I have

received a number of compliments from other teachers, secretaries- Lee,

she cried. I can't stand it here. I can't I know, and that's another

thing Henry told me.

He's spoken to DeGroot on our behalf and the lease can be broken. He

and Dr. Beezly have found us a new apartment in a much nicer area and

cheaper rent too. We're moving at the end of the month. You won't hear

any more of those imaginary noises or be spooked by old man Carter.

How's that sound?

Did you see if there was a funeral today? she demanded.

I looked in the paper during lunch hour. Nothing, Jess, he said.

I didn't imagine the digging. I heard it, she insisted.

All right. So maybe there are grave robbers out there at night. Who

knows? At least we'll be moving away from it.

She sat silently for a moment and then leaned back in defeat.

What about all the things that disturbed you? The team, the community

.. .

I had those boys turning today, Jess. It took a lot more effort, but

they were different. I think they're beginning to understand, and once

I change their behavior, I can mold them into a halfway decent squad.

I'm not saying we'll break records or even be contenders, but at least

I'll bring back a semblance of normalcy and She shook her head.

No, you won't, Lee. You're just deluding yourself Something's happened,

she said perceptively. Some thing's changed you, blinded you.

What are you talking about? he replied guardedly.

Before she could reply, he took the offensive. Look, Jess. Where are

we running to anyway? Do I have another position waiting for me in the

wings? What were we thinking about when we decided to hightail it out

of here? Hightail it to where? To live with your parents or mine? Me

going back to driving a cab or some other such job while I wait to find

another opportunity like this? I'm a teacher, a coach; I want to do

what I'm supposed to do.

He realized he had made his hands into fists and pounded his own thighs

for emphasis. Jessie said nothing for a moment, sensing the tension in

his voice; then she nodded.

Okay, Lee, she said, relenting. We'll do what you want.

Once you're in a nicer apartment in a more pleasant atmosphere, it will

all change for you, and you will see it's what you want, too. It was a

mistake to jump to take this place just because it was so large and

inexpensive.

I regret that now, but thanks to Henry and Dr. Beezly, we can correct

it shortly. Listen. He reached across the table to put his hand over

hers. Do you think we would have people so willing to help us in the

more urban areas? Small-town life has its advantages.

Your hand feels so hot, she said. Instantly he lifted it from hers.

She's going to sense it, he thought. She's going to know.

I'm probably still overheated from practice.

Didn't you shower?

Sure. Well, I'd better get back to our dinner. I'm working up one of

my special meat loafs, the recipe that won your heart.

She didn't smile.

Okay? he pursued.

I don't know, Lee, she said firmly. Is it okay?

Sure... He stood up quickly. Sure, it's okay.

You'll see. We'll be fine.

I'm going to go wash my face, she said, standing.

I'll be right back.

Everything's under control, he repeated. He watched her walk away. She

looked twenty years older, her shoulders slouched, her steps short,

ponderous.

It'll be all right, he whispered to himself. It has to be.

Jessie didn't eat much for dinner, even though she said everything

tasted good. He managed to get her to smile a few times, but the veil

of sadness and depression over her face didn't lift. She complained of

still being tired.

He tried to make light of it by joking about her having a hangover, but

she said it wasn't like a hangover.

It's more like I've been drained, invaded, she insisted.

If you still feel this way tomorrow, Lee said, you should tell Dr.

Beezly while he's here.

She raised her head. The way she was sitting, face forward, her

shoulders and back stiff, she looked hypnotized. Then she shook her

head softly, the lines in her mouth relaxing.

You don't think it's odd then, his coming to see me? she asked.

Oh no. From all I have heard and from what I've seen of him myself, he

seems to be a bright, compassionate person, a holdover from another time

when life was less complicated. People take each other more seriously

in these small towns, Jess. Don't you think that's all it is?

I don't know, she said. I want to feel that way, but I don't. Instead

I feel . . . frightened.

Oh Jess. Afraid of a doctor? After all you've been through?

She hesitated for a moment, thinking. Then she nodded softly.

Perhaps you're right, she said. I'm just tired. She stood up like one

accepting her fate. You want any help with the dishes?

No, no. Just go lie down. I'm going to do some reading and watch a

little television. There's a game on cable I want to see.

All right, she said, starting away. Oh. She turned in the doorway. I

almost forgot. Check to be sure we have at least ten pounds or so of

potatoes. I've got to make potato salad.

Potato salad? What for?

The PTO dinner dance, she replied. Then she almost smiled. You know

about it, don't you?

For a moment he couldn't speak.

Er. . . yeah. It was mentioned to me today.

She nodded as if confirming a suspicion. It had to be his own guilty

conscience making him imagine things, he thought. There's no way she

could have guessed what had happened. No way, he chanted to himself.

It was more like a prayer.

He lost himself in the televised game. The Knicks were playing the

Lakers. While he watched he fantasized himself becoming an NBA coach

someday. Why not? He could do something here and then move on to a

college, and from there . . .

A few weeks ago coaching a high-school basketball team again seemed like

a near impossibility. Now he was imagining all sorts of possibilities.

His wounded ego had rebounded. He felt invincible, full of potential

and promise, as eager and enthusiastic as he was when he played college

ball. After all, he was just outside that circle of players who were

contenders for professional ball. If he had been another three or four

inches taller . . .

Making love to Monica London seemed to have restored his youth. He had

been living under the gloomy clouds of defeat and anguish too long.

Sure, it was wrong to be an adulterer, especially to betray a woman like

Jessie and especially at this time in her life, but the erotic incident

had come just at the right time, he thought. He rationalized that it

was more like a treatment, a psychological boost, than an immoral act.

He would be an even better husband to Jessie now because his confidence

had been restored.

These thoughts lifted the weight of guilt from his conscience. He

promised himself it would never happen again. It served its purpose and

it was over. The end justifies the means, right?

There was a time-out and a beer commercial broke in.

He would barely have listened or watched, only suddenly the girl at the

pool table in the commercial looked just like Monica London. The

close-up confirmed it. He shook his head and covered his eyes. When he

looked at the set again, the girl was different.

He laughed at the workings of his own imagination.

I'm getting as bad as Jessie, he muttered, and sat back to watch the

remainder of the game. It ended late because there were two overtimes

and he couldn't pull himself away from the set. Finally, a little after

midnight, he turned off the TV. Just as he reached over to turn off the

lamp, he thought he heard whispering.

He spun around, expecting to see Jessie in the doorway, but the room was

empty. He listened again and then turned slowly to look toward the

front window. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

It was Monica London.

Jesus, he muttered, his heart pounding. She smiled and beckoned for him

to come out. Oh damn, he said, and stepped into the hallway. He

listened for a moment to see if Jessie had awakened, but it was deadly

quiet.

Then, as silently as he could, he slipped out of the house, closing the

door gently behind him. When he stepped onto the porch, he saw no one

and for a moment thought it had been his crazy imagination at work, just

as it had been with the commercial. Then a shadow moved and became

Monica.

What the hell are you doing here? he whispered loudly. Are you crazy?

I couldn't sleep, she said, smiling. She was wearing a jacket over a

sheer nightgown. In the yellow light of the porch fixture, he could see

her legs and triangle of pubic hair clearly. I kept thinking about you,

about us, she added.

You've got to get out of here. My wife . . .

She's asleep, isn't she?

Yes, but. . .

So, she said, giggling. She reached out and seized his hand firmly.

Come on, she coaxed. There's some thing I've always wanted to do. She

tugged. He tried to resist, but it was as if his legs heard different

messages.

As she pulled him along he felt like his head and heart were merely

passengers on a runaway body. All the avenues of communication between

his brain and his limbs were shut off. The lines emanating from his

conscience were down.

It was a partly cloudy night with just enough moon light filtering

through and in between the clouds to provide a dimly lit pathway through

the darkness. The trees that were silhouetted against the night sky

looked like morbid observers, bent and twisted sentinels guarding a

fortress of evil. Nothing moved except Monica and he.

Even the bats seemed to have fed and gone contentedly to sleep. It was

as if he were being dragged into a painting, a tableau created out of

the nightmare of some brooding and macabre artist.

Monica pulled him through the entrance of the cemetery. As if the moon

followed orders, it broke free of the wispy clouds that had surrounded

and trailed it. A wave of bone-white light washed the tombstones.

Monica stopped before a large monument and a long marble slab.

Isn't this kinky? she whispered, and giggled. She sat on the slab and

pulled him down with her. He wanted to resist. He kept telling himself

this wasn't really happening; this was a dream. He was back in the

house, in the living room, asleep in his chair while the television

played on. But Monica's hands were all over him, unbuttoning,

unfastening. And when he gazed down at her, he saw her beautiful body

shining as softly as the marble slab. She was as smooth as polished

stone. He couldn't keep his hands away.

He slithered out of his pants and underwear like a snake shedding its

skin, and in moments he brought his erection to the mouth of her vagina.

She wrapped her right hand around the back of his head and pulled him