Night Deposit Ch. 02

"I'm sorry, I'm just upset," she backtracked, not wanting to burn the last bridge behind her. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, she should tell Don they're exclusive... at least, until something better comes along.

I looked at my front door. My anger last night had destroyed it and the whole thing needed to be replaced. I walked back into the kitchen and set my coffee cup down. I hated coffee.

"Hello, Steve? Vince... I need a new front door at my house... yeah, it's pretty much gone... this afternoon? OK, great... I'll be here. Thanks."

"Here, put these on..." Don handed her a pair of slacks and a belt and looked for a shirt she could wear.

"Why can't you take me?"

"Wouldn't look right, you know that. Unless you can convince him to take you back, we're going to have to wait until your divorce is final. Hebsit at the bank isn't going to like this if it gets out. You know he's all about appearances.

"C'mon, let's go see what Vince wants to do with you. If he asks how you got home, just tell him a friend from work came and got you from the police station.

"If he's as dumb as I think he is, he might just want you back. After all, you are crazy in bed."

"Don, you know I've never done those things with him."

"His loss. Whatever... I'll bet he takes you back, anyway. He doesn't want the publicity... He's a very respected man around here." Don smirked. 'Respected by everyone except his wife and her lovers...'

The ride back to the house seemed to take forever, she was so nervous.

"You want me to come up with you?"

"No... there's no telling what he might do if he saw you. I'll go." She walked up to the front porch and looked into the house. There was no sign of me but she knew I had to be home, the front door was still nailed shut.

"Vince? Vince, honey? It's me. Please, let me in. We need to talk about it, Vince. Please?"

I sat up on the couch, startling her.

"Vince, please let me in. I've learned my lesson, last night. I swear. I'm sorry. Vince?"

She put her hands up to her face so she could see inside the house. "Vince, if you're not going to let me talk, at least let me get my clothes."

"Clothes? What clothes?"

"Vince, where's my clothes? C'mon, Vince, stop playing around. Where's my clothes?"

"Where's my money?"

"Oh..." was all she could say. That I knew was enough to tell her it was over; there was no chance of fixing it until she wanted to move on.

I could almost understand the cheating... I wasn't there Friday nights but it was only ten to fourteen nights out of the entire year. But, that's not right; I was there every other night of the week and before she came home, waiting with her dinner.

Alisa had given me the name of her own divorce attorney and I made the call to her. I expected to get an answering service but her secretary answered the phone.

Mentioning Alisa, I asked for the quickest possible appointment.

"Would you be able to come within the hour? If so, I can get you in today. Would that work for you?"

"Yes, very much, thank you..."

"You're going to kick her out, aren't you?" Alisa asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Damn shame, I still love her." I was pretty close to crying and looked out the window as I drove to the law office.

I arrived much sooner than I would have wanted and had to wipe my face before entering the building.

With a great deal of trepidation, I entered her office on the fifth floor.

"Mr. Vince Chamin? She's expecting you. You're the last appointment for the day."

I walked into the back office and met a very attractive woman in her mid-fifties. Alisa told me that her lawyer only represented women so this was a change, to say the least.

"Mr. Chamin, please sit down. Let's see what I can do for you. Alisa called after you left her office and told me to help you so I'm going to make room for you on my calendar."

I briefly outlined what had actually happened, my suspicions about what may have happened and my fear and sadness for the future. At that one moment, I was glad I wasn't a father.

No one in my family had ever divorced. Oh, there had been some pretty incredible fights over the years with some of my cousins and their husbands and wives but it had always worked been worked out before it became toxic.

I decided that when everything was over, one way or the other, I was going to sell the apartments and use the money to actually enjoy life for a change and get the hell out of Los Angeles.

On the ride back to what had been a happy home, or so I thought, I thought back to the day I had met her at her aunt's house. It was a Saturday morning...

A year before that, her aunt told me that she would be coming for vacation the next year and if I was still unattached, I might be interested in showing her a good time in Los Angeles.

I made some inane comment that seemed to please her. What I actually said, I don't remember and forgot all about it.

The following year, she phoned and said that her niece had arrived and was looking forward to meeting me. It all came rushing back and I realized I had 'niced' myself into a corner.

How bad could it be? I asked myself. So, I made a date to come over the following afternoon and meet her.

And I did and fell in love. She was smart and she was funny and she was so beautiful, I couldn't understand why she was still single or interested in meeting me.

I'm a nice looking guy but no movie star... of course, today, the movie stars aren't movie stars.

I shyly asked her if she'd like to go to dinner and she accepted. It was a done deal before I even had arrived.

We were married a month later.

I unlocked the door to the suite and followed her in. Wedding night jitters danced around the back of my head. Would I be able to satisfy her enough? That night had to be the most special night of her life. It certainly was for me.

She smiled and one tantalizing button at a time, she took off her wedding dress.

Then, her tone changed but I hardly noticed, caught up in the belief that all my fantasies were coming true. "Go, take a shower."

A reasonable request, I believed; after all, the reception had been a long celebration and I was a little sweaty. Not as sweaty, I hoped, as I would be later.

Turning on the water to warm, I hastily disrobed in the bathroom, leaving the tux on the floor. After shaving again, I went into the shower and scrubbed myself down... down to my toes.

The excitement of the moment had aroused me sufficiently that I was hard and ready. I only hoped that I wouldn't do anything wrong that first night with my bride.

It would be crude to just walk out with my erection pointing at her; I wrapped a towel around my waist and went back into the bedroom.

The covers had been drawn back and she was there, naked, legs closed.

I wondered why she had not taken a shower herself. She had danced just as hard as I had and we had been inseparable at the party.

However, there she was, just staring at me, now. I wanted to say something romantic and had thought about it all week, finding just the right words to express my happiness and love.

Just as I was going to speak, she looked at me and with half-closed eyes, said, "Get it over with."

Not quite the welcome I had been expecting, not at all. I left on the nightstand light, something to see by. She was the first naked woman I had ever seen outside of a film years earlier and a few Playboys my friends had given me in high school. I had just been too busy working on my science degrees and work.

"Will you hurry up? I'm tired and want to go to sleep."

Moving onto the bed, I quickly was kneeling beside her, just inches away from what I had dreamed about so long. I went to kiss her but she turned her head.

"Look, it's late. If you want to do it now, just do it... or, you can wait 'till tomorrow."

I gently moved her legs apart, got in between and touched her with it and pushed. It refused to go in no matter what I tried. I was so damn naïve and uninformed it was pathetic. I felt that rush that came whenever I thought about this night and tried to hold it back. Unfortunately, I couldn't and was amazed at how far it sprayed across her body and even onto the pillows.

That first great moment was lost forever and nothing would ever bring it back. It was too much for me. She rolled over away from me and said nothing.

The middle of the bed was quite damp and we both moved to each edge to avoid it and what happened. For her, there was nothing. For me, an embarrassment that would follow me to the day I died and probably after that.

What had caused her to change so quickly? At the reception, she had said she couldn't wait to get to the hotel and kissed me over and over. I was confused. Something happened, I just didn't know what.

Maybe, she was frightened about losing her virginity.

The next morning, she was once again the girl I recognized as she gave me a deep and probing kiss.

Admittedly, I felt miserable, my failure the night before weighing heavily on my mind.

What must she think of me, unable to accomplish the simplest of husbandly duties? I felt ill and spent a long time staring out the room's eighteenth floor windows as she took her shower.

For a moment, the thought crossed my mind to join her under the falling water, perhaps, if not to consummate there what should have been done the night before, then to at least arouse her enough to bring her back to the bed and make love like I had hoped.

However, as I held the doorknob in my hand, I discovered it was locked and the sound of the shower made it obvious she wasn't going to open it any time soon.

I returned to my chair, feeling worthless as a man as tears finally began to fall down my cheeks. I wasn't a wimp but this was new country for me and I didn't have a map.

I still didn't know what had happened to change her personality so drastically last night from the smiling, happy bride she had been just an hour earlier at the reception.

Was it all a sham? Was it possible she just married me so she could leave her parents and stay in Los Angeles? Who could I talk to without feeling worse? Oh, what a mistake I had made and for the first time in my life, I truly wished I was dead.

Eventually, the door opened and she emerged fully dressed, wearing the tight pair of jeans I had bought her Thursday before the wedding and a light blue blouse.

She was beautiful. Maybe, she was just afraid, as much as I had been nervous, myself.

She kissed me. "Breakfast?"

I took her hand and looked her in the face, searching for some clue but found none. "Sure," I said, quietly, "let's go."

The elevator took us from the eighteenth floor down to the lobby floor and we walked to the restaurant hand in hand. We were quickly seated in the nearly deserted café.

It was eight in the morning and the maitre de' was surprised to see us. He had met me a few weeks earlier and again at the reception. I could tell he thought it strange that a young couple would be out of bed so early, especially the morning after the wedding.

It just seemed strange. Sitting there, she was attentive to me. I had an uncomfortable look on my face. It just seemed so strange.

We got up and went to the new Sunday buffet. She stood closely to me, her body pressed against me the whole time. It aroused me.

Following breakfast, we returned to the room.

I looked anxiously at the bed, still unmade, but she was already packing her suitcase to leave.

"If we leave now," she said, "we can get to San Diego before lunch."

"Fuck it," I wanted to say but kept it to myself. Not a good way to start off a marriage, I thought to myself.

A half-hour later, we were heading south on the freeway. Usually too talkative, I said nothing, concentrating on my driving, keeping my feelings under control.

What should have been a wonderful evening quickly had become a fiasco. Maybe, in San Diego she would be more comfortable. Maybe the entire day, the wedding, the reception, the whole idea of having sex for the first time, maybe it was too overwhelming and she just panicked.

I glanced over at her. She was looking out the window at the Goodyear blimp rising above us. I took my right hand off the wheel and reached for hers. She smiled, interlacing her fingers with mine.

No mention was made of the night before. I was willing to pretend it never happened if she was. Hopefully, this night would be better.

A little after eleven, we reached San Diego and checked in. Not as luxurious as the Marriott, the motel was still very nice and the room opened out onto the ground floor.

She unpacked, hanging the clothes but keeping everything else in the two suitcases.

"You never know," she remarked, happily, "what's been in these drawers and if they've ever been cleaned."

I appreciated her concern and realized I had never thought about that before. On the other hand, the only other time I was in a motel was 15 years earlier traveling with the family to San Francisco.

After dropping Mandy back at the apartments, I drove over to Woolworth's Five and Dime. I wanted to buy a kite. Life had told me to 'go fly a kite' long enough I figured I might as well do it.

I walked around a little in the store, looked at the goldfish swimming around with their mouths gaping open and closed and even bought a couple books: Action Comics #309 which amazingly enough, had the assassinated president in the story, Superman and my personal favorite, Rip Hunter, Time Master #19 where they meet Cleopatra. Nice silly reading at twelve cents each...

As it turned out, it was my last visit to my football field. As much as I loved working with the boys and the thrill of the game, it seems that my absence of just one night a week had been enough to thoroughly disrupt my marriage. I knew, though, that the problems I had with Nancy had nothing to do with my coaching, but it was just going to be too big a distraction.

I parked on the track and wasted over half an hour trying to fly the stupid box kite. Frustrated, I threw it down on the grass and walked away.

The wind actually picked it up and away it went.

I jumped and hollered like a little kid as the kite's tug captured my attention. Higher and higher it went until the string broke and it disappeared an easy quarter mile away.

Holding the limp string in my hand, I sat down on the grass and cried like the lovesick fool that I was. I loved my wife and honestly didn't know what to do... Catholics didn't get divorced in the 60s... separated, maybe, but divorced? No. How many people stayed in loveless marriages is impossible to know, but advice... no, almost a command from God himself, delivered by someone who had never been married and had left his family when he was fourteen years old, was as useless as the penis he supposedly still had.

For some reason, I wanted to have lunch with Mary. Only she and I knew the whole story about Nancy and the problems we were having. She unwittingly became the third person of the trinity.

I still had my key to the 'Vette and left a note inviting her to lunch at Anthony's. I stupidly thought she might be tired of Mexican.

I had failed to listen to my own counsel. Lunch with Mary was a disaster from the moment we walked into the restaurant with all the stares we received. Damn it! We should have gone to the Mexican place where we seemed to be accepted.

We left without ordering.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I wasn't thinking." El Segundo was and still is as white as any town could be.

"That's all right, Vince. I'm just going to go home now. Thank you for trying." She left me there, standing on the corner all alone, again.

I had to believe that I was a total idiot around women.

I parked in front of St. Joseph's Catholic Church and walked across the street to Chip's for a burger and a drink. I watched some poor kid trying to bus the tables and he seemed to do everything wrong. I couldn't laugh, though. It seemed that both he and I were trying to do something we didn't know a damn thing about. When I was finished, I washed up and went to the apartments I had in Inglewood near Sears.

I wandered around the building, just looking to kill some time until I could pick up Nancy and got 'caught' by Mrs. Snyder.

She was a very lovely but lonely woman, about ten years older than I was but still only about 40 years old and a survivor of the camps. She always wore a scarf over her head and I had eventually figured out that she was very, very orthodox. She had no family left so when I came around, she immediately 'adopted' me to fill some of that emptiness. It was good and it was bad.

If I was single, I would have pursued her eagerly but I wasn't and I never cheated on my wife. As soon as I had that thought, however, I wondered what had made me invite Mary to lunch a second time.

Besides, what would an orthodox Jewish woman want with a Catholic Italian-American, anyway?

That day, I understood how she felt and it was good to have her to talk to me. I really just wanted some companionship. My head was so messed up.

We talked about her life in Germany before the War. We never ever spoke about the camps or the loss of her family. Over the years, I discovered by chance that she had three small children that were sacrificed to the Nazi god, Hitler.

I had those few hours to kill; she made some chocolate raisin cookies, and we talked about everything except what was making each of us miserable.

That had been the longest I had ever spoken with her and I was impressed how knowledgeable she was on so many different things.

I finally had to leave and to my surprise, she invited me back whenever I wanted. The invitation seemed more personal than a chance meeting with the landlord. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, there was a chance... ah, who was I kidding?

I let that thought hang in the air while I drove back to Hawthorne.

What the hell was I doing? Had Nancy's perceived infidelity pushed me subconsciously to seek out other women? Now, I had four women on my mind and I didn't have a clue about what to do with any of them.

They all knew I was married, including my wife who seemed to forget it recently. What the hell was I doing?

After all that happened, I avoided Mandy as best I could. I knew that another man would have taken advantage of the situation and it was glaringly obvious that Mandy wasn't a sweet, young, innocent virgin.

For a while, I depended on Mary letting me know if there was something that needed my attention at the beach apartments while I spent my time at the other two buildings.

Because of that, I was seeing Esther on Tuesdays and Thursdays starting the late morning and Mary on Wednesdays and Fridays sometime during the afternoon or evening.

Esther and I had become very comfortable with each other; we were kissing when I arrived and when I left. I began to learn phrases in Yiddish. We would go to the Fairfax District to shop and have lunch.

Canter's was a very strange bakery-restaurant for an Italian Catholic to be in. Esther would order in rapid Yiddish and things would arrive that I had no idea what they were but I ate them, anyway.

Afterwards, we would walk hand in hand around Farmers' Market and then over to the Tar Pits to watch the bubbles burst in slow motion.

I don't remember when we started holding hands but I never wanted to let go.

Mary and I would go out dancing in clubs that were safe for a mixed couple, as it was known then. We took the white ship to Catalina and spent the night there, the first night of many.

I found myself overwhelmed with what was happening in my life... and didn't know what to do. Why was I so damned confused?

And, then, I realized that I had given my heart and soul to Nancy and while we were together I did everything humanly possible to make her feel happy and loved... and was reticent to do it again.