Full Circle

He turned and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

"Why aren't you married?"

"Well, I could ask you the same question."

"Fair enough," Sarah replied. "I'll tell you after you tell me."

Pete sat back down. "The honest answer is, I don't know. I was gone in the army for four years. I had a couple of girlfriends, nothing serious. I got moved around a lot, so there was no real chance of meeting anyone." He took a sip of his margarita and continued. "When I came back here, most everyone I knew had either gotten married or, like you, had moved away. Am I boring you yet?"

"No. Please keep going."

"I had a couple of girlfriends for a bit after getting back, but nothing ever came out of any of it. Then I started my own business about five years ago. There never seemed to be time for trying to date. Then mom got sick about a year ago. It's like looking back and wondering where all the time went."

"I can understand that," Sarah answered. "So it was never that you didn't want to get married."

"No, not at all." Pete sipped his margarita. "Okay, your turn."

Sarah took a deep breath. "Well, I got closer than you did. I almost got married. I got engaged to a guy in my senior year, we were supposed to get married after I graduated."

"I remember mom saying something about you getting engaged."

"Well, it didn't last. I showed up at his apartment one day after class, unannounced. I caught him having sex with another girl on his sofa."

"Holy crap!" Pete exclaimed.

"Yeah, and after all his talk about remaining pure for each other. That devastated me. I broke up with him. I was so hurt. I felt so betrayed. I didn't go out with another guy for well over a year after that. And I guess like you, I got busy with my career."

Pete raised his glass. "Here's to us. What's that line in that Pink Floyd song? We're like two fish, swimming in a fish bowl, year after year."

Sarah laughed. "You know, that sounds appropriate."

The supper was a success. The chicken was delicious. Pete and Sarah sat in the back yard well after dark talking and laughing. Sarah couldn't remember feeling so happy in a long time.

"Do you want some help cleaning up?" Sarah offered.

"No, there's not much to do." Pete shook his head.

"I know you need to be up early in the morning, and I need to get to bed. Another busy day ahead of me." Sarah sighed as she looked at the house.

"If you need any help, just call me." Pete offered.

Sarah looked at Pete and then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thanks Pete."

She turned, and began walking across the grass leaving Pete standing there in astonishment. She turned her head and called back to Pete, "Phone me when you get home."

Later in bed, Sarah wondered what it would be like to be held by Pete, the way lovers held each other.

Her hand slipped between her legs, and she began to touch herself. There was no guilt on this night.

---

Sarah set her coffee cup in the sink. She wasn't looking forward to cleaning out her father's closet. So much of what was in there was personal. She knew there would be a fortune hidden in his closet. Not a fortune of money or valuables, but a currency measured in memories.

It was harder to pack his clothes into bags for Goodwill. Everything seemed to hold a memory. She sat on the floor and held one of his old sweaters close to her face. The aroma of his aftershave still lingered on them.

She laughed, tears rolling down her face, when she found his two suits. The grey was his Sunday suit, and the dark blue was his 'good' suit. In his words, the 'good' suit was for weddings, funerals and other solemn events.

His life was in this closet, that's what he used to tell her. He had built shelves in the back. Neatly stacked boxes lined the shelves. The first box made her smile. It was full of all of the cards she had made when she was in elementary school. She sat and looked at each one, trying to remember what she felt when she had made them.

One card looked odd — it didn't look like her work at all. She opened it up, and smiled. It was from Pete to her father. Her heart almost broke when she turned the little note over.

Uncle Frank,

I don't got a dad to give this card to. I would like to give it to you.

Peter Radcliffe

As she looked through the cards, she found several others from Pete to her father. Sarah set the box aside.

Many of the boxes held bank statements, tax returns and other legal looking documents. Those would have to be gone through carefully.

Some of the boxes were stuffed with miscellaneous items. She had no idea what these things were and wondered if Pete could use any of it.

Finally, all that remained was the green steel box at the back of the closet. She remembered seeing it as a child, but had no memory of seeing what was inside. The latch was locked, but the key was in the lock.

The box was nearly empty. Only a few folded letters lay in the bottom. She reached in, pulled out a letter, and began to read.

Dear Frank,

I got the note you left. Please don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing happened that I didn't want to happen. I wanted you to make love to me, Frank. I needed to feel like a woman again.

Debbie

Sarah's jaw dropped. With a shaking hand, she selected another of the letters.

Dearest Frank,

I love you too. I just want you to know that I never expect anything from you, except what you are willing to give. I know you love Ellen, and I do as well. I would never do anything to hurt her or Sarah.

I can never thank you enough for the time you spend with Peter. He looks up to you, and you are the father figure in his life. I can't think of a better man for him to look up to.

Love,

Debbie.

The other letters were similar in tone and content.

Sarah didn't know what to think. Her emotions were confused. She couldn't believe her father had been Pete's mother's lover for all of those years. She felt hurt, and betrayed by her father. Questions ran through her head, questions with no answers.

---

Pete was surprised to see Sarah sitting on his front steps when he pulled into his driveway. He parked his truck, picked his thermos and cooler off the seat, and walked around the house. His smile vanished when he saw the tear streaks on Sarah's face.

"What's wrong, Sarah?"

She looked up at Pete with a sad expression and handed him the bundle of letters.

Pete felt his heart sink as soon as he read the first letter. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry." He was overwhelmed by the urge to hold her in his arms and make her hurt go away. "Come inside, Sarah, and I'll tell you everything I know."

Sarah stood up and followed Pete into the house. He walked into the kitchen and put his thermos and cooler on the counter. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "I don't understand, how could he─ they have done that."

Pete let out a long sigh as he rested his arms on the table. He looked at Sarah, wishing there were something he could do or say to take the hurt away.

"Mom didn't say much about the how, or why it began, and I didn't ask." Pete looked up at the ceiling, searching to find the right words.

"You knew?" Sarah couldn't believe her ears.

Pete nodded. "Two days before she passed away, that's when she told me. She made me swear not to say a word to you."

"How long did it go on for?"

"I don't know for sure. From when we were young right up to the end I guess, over twenty-five years."

"It goes against everything he taught me. How he could have treated my mother like that?" Tears began pouring from her eyes.

"He loved your mother. I know that. He told me that many times."

"Well, he had a funny way of showing it." Sarah wiped her tears. "I don't know if I want to keep that damned house now. It's a house full of lies and deceit."

Pete felt helpless. "I wish I could say something that would change it all around."

Sarah felt her anger burst. "You could have done something, anything! Surely you must have known my father was coming over here to..." Sarah stopped herself when she saw the hurt in Pete's eyes.

"No, I never knew or even suspected anything." He stood up from the table. "Wait here, I have something for you."

He returned with a letter in his hand. "This is for you. Mom gave it to me and said to only let you have it if you found out. I have no idea what is in there, I've never read it."

The envelope felt thick in her hand. The only word written on the white envelope was her name.

Suddenly, Sarah felt ashamed of her outburst at Pete. She mumbled a goodbye, walked out of his house, and returned to her own. She laid the envelope on the kitchen table and stared at it. Did she want to read words from the woman who her father had cheated with?

Sarah tried to sustain her anger at her father and Pete's mother. She feared that by reading the words, she might feel sympathetic towards them. Sarah suspected Pete felt that way. What was Pete? He was a man, and what was a man? A walking penis. That's all men thought about, their penises.

---

The morning sun streamed through her bedroom window. Sarah lay there, staring at the ceiling. She hadn't slept well, her night filled with fitful dreams of her father and mother.

Even the shower did nothing to improve her mood. She had planned to clean out the rest of her parents' bedroom. She took one look at the room, walked downstairs, and started the coffee pot. Her funk was still with her. For a moment, she wished her father were alive just so she could scream and yell at him.

The letter still sat on the table where she had left it. The urge to burn it without reading it had come to mind the previous evening. Nevertheless, she hadn't read it, and it still sat there, unopened and unread.

What excuse could she possibly give? What would her rationale be? Sarah stared at the letter. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her, so she picked up the letter and tore it open. It was dated the day after her parents' funeral.

Dear Sarah,

If you are reading this letter, then you already know about your father and me. I am dying, and do not have much time left. Even Peter has no idea how serious it is.

I wanted so much to talk to you after the funeral. There was so much more that I wanted to say. I wanted to tell you what a wonderful man your father was, and how I wished things had been different for your mother.

Please don't be angry with Frank, hate me if you wish, but not your father.

I'm not sure where to begin.

When you and Peter were very young, your father would come over and help me work on the house. Your mother had gone downhill so fast. She shut him, and everyone else, out of her life and he was confused. We would often talk for hours. He loved your mother very deeply and didn't understand what had happened to her.

I was going to school, and working at the time. No boy at that time was interested in a young woman with a baby. Used goods. And there was never any time. If I wasn't at school, then I was working.

I had been married a total of seventeen days when my husband was sent off to Vietnam. He was killed in his second week of duty, before I even knew I was pregnant. A few months later, I realized I was pregnant. I was alone, and with a child on the way. Your parents were my support, as my family had pretty much disowned me for getting married without their blessing.

I'm not going to go into the details of our relationship, for I feel I would be betraying him. It started by accident, in a moment when we were both weakened by the stress of our lives.

After the baby died, your mother refused to have any sort of physical relationship with your father, yet he stood by her. He never gave up on her.

Our relationship was never sordid, it was one of love. Each gave the other what was missing in their lives. It made us stronger. Your father saw Peter as the son he never had, and I saw you as the daughter I never had. We saw the five of us, your mother included, as one family.

We loved each other deeply, Sarah. Your father's love for your mother never diminished. Not once in over twenty-five years did either of us discuss him leaving your mother.

I miss him so much right now. I know he would have made my last days brighter. He does live in my heart.

I hope this letter helps. Please forgive us for our weaknesses. Most of all, if you are angry with your father, please forgive him.

Debbie.

PS. I will leave it up to you if you want to share the details of this letter with Peter.

Sarah set the letter on the table and stared out the window towards Pete's house. The letter wasn't what she expected. She had fully expected to be able to use its contents to fuel her anger. As she read the letter a second time, she felt her anger towards her father begin to wane.

Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn't been able to attend the funeral for Pete's mother. She hadn't been able to get the time off from her position at the school. Now, she regretted not coming even more. She wished she had been more forceful in her request for the time off.

Debbie had been much like a mother to her. She remembered how Debbie had enjoyed having long girl-to-girl talks with her. Sarah began to cry as she remembered sitting on Debbie's bed, trying different shades of nail polish and laughing. Then, just before going home having to take it all off, because her mother didn't approve of nail polish. She said it came from Satan.

The anger she felt towards her father vanished. A deep sadness overtook her. She tried to imagine what it must have been like for the two of them, sharing a love that couldn't be shared with anyone else.

Pete's driveway lay vacant well after dark. Sarah wanted to apologize to him. Her outburst at him embarrassed her now. She fell asleep before he got home, and by the time she woke up, his house was dark.

The next three days blurred together. She would get up in the morning and see his truck gone. She continued going through the house, deciding what to keep and what to give away. Each night his truck remained gone until after she had gone to bed.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap. Sarah's eyes opened. There it was again. Tap. Tap. It was coming from her window. She glanced at the clock and groaned. It read 6:04. Tap. Tap.

She opened the curtain and looked outside. Her heart leapt and a smile formed on her face. Sarah poked her head out the window and waved to Pete. "What on earth are you doing?"

Pete gave her a big grin. "I wanted to see if you wanted to go out for breakfast."

"Why didn't you just phone me?"

"This was a lot more fun. Like when we were kids."

"It's only six in the morning."

"We'll beat the rush and get a good seat."

Sarah found his mood infectious. "Okay, give me a few minutes to run a brush through my hair and throw something on."

"I'll be down here."

---

The café was busy with the morning breakfast crowd. Most of the patrons looked like they were involved in the construction trade. Some of the diners waved and greeted Pete by name.

Sarah didn't tell Pete, but she was relieved to find out his late nights and early mornings were because of a rush put on a job. The worry that he had found a woman had started to fester in her mind. She felt her face blush slightly when he told her about the job he had been doing.

After the waitress had taken their order, Pete looked at Sarah, "How is everything? I've been a bit worried about you. I wanted to come over and see you, but the job's had me going for about eighteen hours a day."

"Better. The letter helped. I still don't understand why, and probably never will. I'm not angry anymore. I don't condone what they did, but I can understand why it happened." Sarah shook her head in sadness.

"Your dad used to tell me, you can only do what you can do with the cards you're dealt. You can't make aces out of eights." Pete took a sip of his coffee. "It took me a long time to fully understand what he meant."

Sarah paused and thought for a moment. "What do you think he meant?"

"You take what life gives you and do the best you can with it." Pete looked directly at Sarah. "Life dealt him a bum hand. He lost a baby and a wife at the same time. He did the best he could with what he had." He paused for a moment and took a drink of coffee.

"Same with my mom, she lost a husband and was left alone with a baby. I can't say for sure because I don't know, but I think they supported each other."

Sarah thought about what Pete had just said. It struck a chord inside of her. For the first time, she thought she understood the reason why.

"Do you have to work today?" Sarah asked as Pete drove them home.

"Nope. I finished the job I was doing, and I don't need to start the next one until Monday."

"Any plans for the day?" Sarah asked. She was hoping the answer was no; she could use Pete's and his truck's help.

"Not really, the only thing I was planning on doing was washing my truck."

"My car could use it, too." Sarah replied.

"Was there something you had in mind?"

"I was hoping I could borrow you and your truck to haul some of the stuff down to the Goodwill."

"Sure, we can do that this morning, wash the car, and truck this afternoon." Pete suggested.

Sarah liked the idea of spending the day with Pete. She found herself attracted to him. She no longer saw him as the boy that lived next door.

---

Pete felt relieved Sarah was no longer angry over what had transpired between their parents. The thought of spending the day with Sarah appealed to him. Like her, he sensed a growing attraction between the two of them.

"That's the last of it. The rest is trash." Sarah was pleased with what the two of them had accomplished.

"Good!" Pete laughed and mimicked an aching back. "Between my mom and your parents, I don't think the three of them ever threw anything away."

"I know they didn't." Sarah agreed. "I think I found every piece of homework I ever brought home."

Pete looked at the back of his truck loaded down with bags full of clothes and other miscellaneous items. "I'll go drop this load off."

"I appreciate all of your help, Pete. I'll cook us supper tonight, okay?" She gave him a hopeful look.

"I'll hold you to that." Pete laughed as he got into his truck. He grinned at Sarah. "One thing a single guy never does is turn down a free meal." He paused for a moment. "Especially with a pretty girl."

Sarah felt her cheeks blush. As Pete backed out of the driveway, she yelled at him. "Flirt! Flattery will get you..." She felt her blush deepen and whispered. "...everywhere."

She watched his truck turn the corner before going back into the house. It felt like she had butterflies in her stomach as she walked into the house. She sat in the kitchen, trying to decide what Pete would enjoy.

Sarah looked in the freezer and smiled. "Perfect." She checked the pantry and the cabinets to make sure all of the necessary ingredients were on hand.

A rapping at her back door caused her to look up from her cookbook. She smiled as Pete poked his head in the door.

"Hey, pull your car over into my driveway and we'll wash both vehicles."

"Okay, I'll be right out." Sarah closed the cookbook and retrieved her keys from her purse.

Pete had a big bucket full of sudsy water ready, along with sponges and old towels. "We'll do your car first."

The dirt seemed to melt off her car as he sprayed it with hose. They attacked it with sponges, and then hosed the car off. The giggles and laughter began when they started flicking suds at each other.

It escalated when Pete sprayed Sarah with the hose. "It was an accident." His words said one thing, but the laughter in his eyes gave away his true intention.

"I'll get you." Sarah laughed as the soggy sponge she lobbed caught Pete on the side of the head.