The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes (19 page)

BOOK: The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes
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“Of course,” she said, drawing away from him.

“So,” he said, “show me what you found in the old psych book.”

They sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, flipping through the pages of the musty old book.

Afterward, he gave her a tour of the inner workings of the Helms Theater, where she’d seen his play. He talked about wanting to teach drama to high-school kids. She told him how she planned to work for a while after graduating, then go back for her master’s in counseling. Soon, they knew nearly everything there was to know about their lives in the here and now. That was how she planned to keep it. She had no past. The here and now was where they would begin.

Chapter Twenty-Six

W
hen the school year ended, they fell into a pattern. Eve took a class four mornings a week and worked at an adolescent halfway house on the weekends. Jack’s summer job with the Virginia Theater Company was primarily on the weekends as well, so they had only a few weekday evenings together, most of them spent with Cory in tow. Jack was an amazing man, willing to share the little bit of time he and Eve had together visiting amusement parks or roller-skating rinks or working on Cory’s bicycling skills. She’d gotten much braver on the bike, which gave Eve both hope and trepidation.

On the Fourth of July, Cory helped Marian prepare a picnic dinner, while Eve and Jack had some time alone. They spent a lazy afternoon in the bookstore, ending up back at the house Jack shared with two other guys, both of whom were out of town for the holiday. In the four months they’d known each other, this was the first time they’d been alone together in one of their houses. Eve had started taking the pill two months ago in preparation for this day when she would have him to herself, undisturbed. She’d fallen in love with him, although she had not yet told him that. She loved his energy and playfulness, his patience and generosity with Cory. Occasionally, though, she wondered if he had the ability to be serious about anything. That concern was what kept her from saying those solemn words, weighted with expectations, to him.

As soon as they walked into his house, he shut the door behind them and drew her into his arms. “Ah,” he said, kissing her. “Alone at last. Would you like to see my etchings?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see your etchings.”

“You go upstairs and I’ll meet you in a minute. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thanks.” Refreshments were the last thing on her mind. She was twenty-one and felt like a virgin. CeeCee had made love; Eve had not. CeeCee had been so stupid, so gullible, so naive. She’d needed Tim to guide her, to teach her. Eve did not.

Upstairs, she pulled the shade in his bedroom, and the room filled with a pale mellow light. She took off her clothes, folding them and setting them on his dresser. His double bed, which took up nearly all the space in the room, was neatly made, and when she climbed between the sheets, she smelled the sunshine-and-soap scent of freshly laundered linen. He’d prepared for this, too, she though happily.

She stretched out beneath the covers, the touch of the sheets exciting against her bare skin. Folding her arms behind her head, she waited.

“I’m coming, don’t give up on me,” he called. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and in a moment he appeared in the doorway. He grinned when he saw her.

“My woman’s hot to trot.” He laughed. He had something in his hand which he set on the floor by his side of the bed.

He lay down next to her, rolling onto his side. “You look beautiful,” he said, running his fingertips over her cheek. “There’s a stripe of sunlight on your hair and face.”

She touched her cheek as though she might be able to feel the sunlight there, then smoothed her hand over his arm.

“You’re precious to me, do you know that?” he asked. He
could
be serious. She was wrong to think otherwise.

“I feel the same way,” she said. Her voice felt thick.

He bent over to kiss her and she pulled his T-shirt over his head as he drew away. He stood up and unbuckled his khakis and let them fall. He pulled off his shorts, and she rolled to the edge of the bed to touch his erection, to press it against her cheek. He groaned, then lay her back on the bed. The next thing she knew, she felt something cold on her neck and heard a hissing sound.

“What…?”

He licked her neck. “Mmm,” he said.

She pulled back laughing, spotting the red-and-white can in his hand.
“Whipped cream?”
Well, he could be serious for a few seconds, anyway.

“Hold still.” He drew the sheet from her breast. “Oh, stunning,” he said. Then he slowly covered her nipples with whipped cream before lowering his mouth to them, and she knew their lovemaking would be long, passionate—and very, very messy.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

1982

E
ve sat on Cory’s bed and turned the last page of the book they were reading together. Cory already recognized many words. Puppy, for example. Elephant. Run. Boy and girl. And for some reason, asparagus.

Eve tucked the covers beneath Cory’s chin and leaned over to kiss her forehead. Her own mother used to read to her at night, then sit and talk with her about everything under the sun. She’d loved that tender time with her mother, and she loved recreating it with Cory.

She brushed a lock of red hair from Cory’s cheek and slipped it behind her ear. “Marian said you saw a dachshund at the park today,” she said.

Cory nodded. “And I wasn’t afraid of it because it was little,” she said.

She
had
been afraid of it, Marian had told Eve, but she didn’t correct her. She’d let Cory have her fantasy of bravery.

“Mommy,” Cory said suddenly, “is Marian my daddy?”

Eve had been waiting a long time for Cory to ask about her father, but she’d never expected the question to come in this form.

“No, honey,” she said. “Daddies have to be men.” She wondered if Cory was thinking about Lorraine, Bobbie and Shan. Clearly, there was no man in that triad, and she wasn’t sure how to explain those family dynamics. “Marian’s just a very special friend,” she said. “She’s not related to us.”

“Then is Jack my daddy?”

“No. Jack’s a very special friend, too.”

She waited, and for a moment thought that was the end of it.

“What makes you ask about your daddy, honey?”

Cory pressed her lips together until they nearly disappeared. “Kelsey’s daddy brings her to the park every morning,” she said, referring to the only man who took part in the morning get-together of moms-and-kids at the park. “And Hank has a daddy. And Calvin. I think everybody at the park has a daddy except me. I said I had one, too. I said Marian was my daddy, and Hank laughed at me.”

Eve’s heart broke a little. She wished she could remember having this conversation with her own mother. How had her father’s absence been explained to her? She didn’t recall, but she did remember the pain of being fatherless when it seemed that all the other children had two parents active in their lives, even if they were not living together.

This would be the first outright lie she’d told her daughter.

“You had a daddy, Cory,” she said. “But he died.”

“Like Dino?” Cory asked, referring to a dog who used to play with the children—the
other
children—at the park.

“Yes. Like Dino.”

“My daddy’s in heaven?”

“Yes.”

“Was he really sick like Dino?”

“No. He had an accident.”

“Oh.”

“I grew up without a daddy, too,” she said. She wasn’t sure if this was too much information to give her, but it seemed important to say.

“Your daddy died, too?”

She could make it easy on herself and say yes, but she didn’t want to tell any more lies than she had to.

“He just wasn’t a very good daddy. I never even knew him.”

“Will I ever get to meet my daddy?”

She didn’t get it. She was still a little mixed up about the concept of death.

“No, honey. I’m sorry. He can’t come back. Just like Dino can’t come back.”

She saw the tears welling in her daughter’s eyes and felt her own eyes burn.

“Come here, Cory.” She drew the covers back and pulled her daughter into her arms. Rocking her, she felt Cory sniffling against her chest, grieving for the father she could never know.

 

“I had a painful conversation with Cory tonight,” she said to Jack when he phoned her that evening. “She suddenly realized she doesn’t have a daddy. I guess the other kids at the park talk about their fathers. She asked me if Marian was her daddy.”

“Oh,” Jack said. “Poor baby.”

“Then she asked me if you were her daddy.”

Jack was quiet. “What did you tell her?” he asked after a moment.

“I told her no, of course. I explained that her daddy died in an accident.”

“Do you think she understood what that means?”

“I don’t know. She asked if he could come back. I think she finally got it, though. She cried, and so did I.”

“I’m coming over,” he said.

“Now?”

“I just want to hold you. I know this must have been really hard.”

Her eyes burned again. “It’s late,” she said, although she suddenly realized how much she needed him to be with her.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said.

She hung up the phone, grateful that this compassionate man was a part of her life.

 

Sitting on the sofa with him later that night, she let him hold her. His arms had become her favorite place to be.

“Evie,” he said after they’d sat in silence for a while.

“Hmm?”

“I’d wanted to do this in some well-planned-out, dramatic sort of way, but I don’t think I can wait.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to be Cory’s daddy,” he said. “And I want to be Eve’s husband.” He leaned away to look into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

A thousand responses ran through her mind.
Are you sure you want to take on a woman with a little girl?
And,
You don’t know the truth about me and you never can.
But she thought of all he’d come to mean to her. He was her dearest friend, her playmate, her lover—one who had taught her that she was, indeed, capable of having orgasms with him inside her.

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Yes,” she said. “Absolutely, yes.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

1983

I
n May, Eve graduated with honors and a bachelor’s degree in psychology, and in June, she and Jack were married in the wedding chapel on the grounds. Jack’s family was there, along with Marian, of course. Lorraine, who was now a production assistant at television station Channel 29, was Eve’s maid of honor, even agreeing to wear a dress for the occasion, and Jack’s brother, Rob, was his best man. Cory was supposed to be the flower girl, but she had an attack of nerves at the last minute and wound up sitting next to Marian in the pew instead.

Jack taught high-school drama now, and a few of his students attended the ceremony, along with several of Eve’s classmates. It was a quiet, simple wedding, with Jack as serious as Eve had ever seen him. There were tears in his eyes when he spoke the vows he’d written. He promised to be faithful, devoted and honest. She said nothing about honesty in her own vows and hoped no one noticed.

They moved into a small rental house a half mile from the university and within walking distance of Marian’s. Although Eve felt a huge loss in leaving her safe haven at Marian’s house, she was more concerned about leaving the older woman alone. Marian was sixty-seven now and starting to show her age. Eve noticed it for the first time when everyone gathered outside the chapel after the wedding. The sun illuminated every wrinkle on Marian’s face and left shadows under her eyes. She wanted to let Marian know she would always be there for her. She and Cory would not have survived the past six years without her help. Maybe the time was coming for her to return the favor.

That summer was one of the most stable and comfortable periods Eve could remember enjoying in her life. She, Jack and Cory were a true family. Jack taught summer school, while Eve looked for a job she could start in September. She planned to work part-time, while Jack began a graduate program in drama so he could teach at the university level. Eve understood. He missed being part of UVA. She already felt the same way.

Eve and Cory puttered around in the mornings, going to the park or visiting Marian, who would play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on her cello while Cory sang along. But the day really began for them when Jack came home. They would go to a museum or a movie or have a barbecue with friends. At night, they’d crowd into Cory’s bed and read a book together.

In early August, Eve and Cory spent a week at a cottage in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, right on the beach. The cottage cost them nothing; it belonged to one of Marian’s friends, who encouraged them to use it. Eve missed Jack, but she loved having the quiet, bittersweet time alone with her daughter. In a few weeks, Cory would start kindergarten and everything would change.

A few days before Cory started school, Jack legally adopted her. Cory quickly took to calling him “Daddy,” and her occasional questions about who and where her father was came to a halt.

Kindergarten, though, marked the end of their idyllic, celebration-filled summer.

Cory’s elementary school was two blocks from their house, and Eve walked her there on the first day. Cory was quiet at her side, holding tightly to Eve’s hand, ignoring the other children who raced past them on the sidewalk.

“Your new shoes look adorable,” Eve said to her. Marian had bought Cory a first-day-of-school outfit: blue pants, a blue floral T-shirt and navy-and-white sneakers that looked like little saddle shoes. Cory had put the outfit on very slowly, a somber expression on her face as though she were dressing for a funeral.

Inside the school, Eve saw that Cory was not the only child in distress. A mother tried to calm her weeping son in the hallway, and the teacher, an extremely tall black woman, coaxed a little girl into the classroom. The teacher, Mrs. Rice, looked scary even to Eve. She was fortyish, with blue-black skin and teeth as white and smooth as porcelain. She wore her thick, straight hair in a bowl cut that framed her face. Cory took one look at her and started to whimper, her arms wrapping around Eve’s legs like a vise.

“Oh, my, now,” Mrs. Rice said, walking toward them where they stood just inside the classroom door. “What’s going on here? Oh, you’re a lovely girl. Isn’t she?” She looked at Eve as if for confirmation.

Eve nodded. “Yes, but a bit nervous about the first day.” She whispered the word “nervous.”

“Well, we’re going to have so much fun today,” Mrs. Rice said. “We’re going to play some games to help us get to know one another.”

“Cory, did you hear what Mrs. Rice said? You and the other children are going to play games this morning. And I’ll be back in just a few hours to pick you up.”

“No, Mommy!” Cory hugged her legs, looking up at her with her pleading blue eyes. “I don’t want to stay here!”

Eve’s armpits suddenly felt damp. “Maybe she’s not ready for kindergarten,” she whispered to Mrs. Rice.

“Oh, I bet she is,” the woman said. “Maybe her mama’s not ready, though.” She smiled at Eve with her porcelain teeth, and the look in her eyes said,
Gotcha!

Mrs. Rice excused herself to talk with another parent, and Eve knelt down in front of Cory, putting her hands on her arms. “See all the other boys and girls in here?” she asked. “Most of them are already having fun together.”

Cory sniffed, her lower lip trembling as she looked around the room. There were a few kids seated on the edge of an indoor sandbox. Others worked with clay or played with blocks. The weeping boy trudged past them, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands as he walked toward the sandbox. His mother rolled her eyes at Eve with a smile as she left the room. “He’s my third child to have Mrs. Rice,” she said. “And my third to scream the first time he laid eyes on her. In a week, the kids’ll think the sun rises and sets on her. You wait.”

“Thank you.” Eve appreciated the reassurance.

She stood up as Mrs. Rice returned to her and Cory.

“Okay, Cory.” Mrs. Rice had a singsong, upbeat voice now. “It’s time to come into the classroom and for your mama to go home. You loosen up now, Mrs. Elliott. Come on. You’re holding her tighter by the minute.”

Was she? She looked down to see the white of her knuckles where her fingers clasped Cory’s shoulders. Opening her hands, she took a step back, leaving Cory in Mrs. Rice’s grasp.

“Perfect!” the teacher said. “You go now. Go.” Eve took another step backward, this time into the hallway, and Mrs. Rice closed the door between her and Cory.

“Mom!” Cory wailed. “Mommy, don’t leave me!”

Eve put her hand on the doorknob, let it sit there for a moment. If she opened the door, she had the feeling Mrs. Rice would throw something at her. She let go of the knob and walked quickly from the building and into the sunlight, and she swore she could still hear Cory screaming as she crossed the street to walk home alone.

BOOK: The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes
5.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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