A Striking Resemblance

I hadn't been with anyone since before getting hired at the hospital, before moving to Pueblo, before divorcing my husband for cheating, and before my last deployment with Doctors Without Borders. It had been a long, long time and this fit, handsome man was standing in front of me, my fingers lightly brushing his hip, him looking down at me.

I felt myself starting to blush.

"Um, so this has to do with the fight Pop got into?"

I looked down at the unpeeled banana on the table, then quickly looked away, eventually finding his eyes. There was an intensity, a hunger in them that I couldn't deny. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back towards the sink.

"Yeah. Look, things happen. Don't make this out to be more than it is. Once he got involved, I couldn't just stand there and watch."

"And he got into a fight with some guys from the Army because they called you by a girl's name?"

He shook his head. "Where did you hear that?"

"He came down to the picket line, which was crazy. We got him to go inside and get checked out and the woman he was seeing, and Shannon's mother and aunt came by. They were talking." I shrugged.

He began cracking his eggs as he spoke. "They didn't call me by a woman's name. Not really. They called me a Jody. That someone who sleeps with the spouse of an active duty member of the military. It's... It's despicable. It's gotten people killed. You're out there, you're thousands of miles from home, sometimes you're encountering the enemy on a daily basis and you find out that your husband or wife has been with someone else behind your back. You make bad decisions, sometimes on purpose. It is as if there's nothing to go home to. That's a Jody. The piece of crap who wants to get some strange and is willing to put someone else's life in danger to get it. Yeah, so, we were at the VFW and some guys heard about me and Emily and thought that they would share their opinion.

"Pop leaned forward, his lips next to the guy's ear, and quietly asked him to repeat what he just said. He made the mistake of doing so, Pop head butted him in the nose, it shattered, and things went south from there. I get it. We sound like Neanderthals, but I'm not ashamed to say that there were five of them and two of us and we walked away in much better shape than they did."

I was shocked, but I couldn't keep quiet. If Steve wanted me to know, he would've told me, but still, I pressed. "Who's Emily?"

He grabbed a fork and started beating the eggs. "Remember when we met at the bistro and both ordered the croissant with apple jam? I told you that morning I was going away for a few days? She was the woman I was going with."

He told me about Emily, and her revelation about being married. Steve didn't know how the men found out, whether her husband discovered what was going on and told friends, or if Emily had said something stupid to someone. What I knew was that he was absolutely furious that she had turned him into something that he despised. I'm usually someone who's not at a loss for words, but I had nothing. I stumbled through a brief commiseration, peeled the banana and sliced it up. We spent most of the rest of our breakfast in silence, but oddly, it wasn't awkward.

I helped him to clean up when he mentioned that he had to grab a shower and get ready for work. I put things away as he washed the dishes. Oddly, it felt natural. The only awkward part of this domestic scene was when he noticed me watching him washing the dishes. He'd sort of pin them against the corner of the sink so the bowl or the plate or the pan couldn't shift and then scrubbed it with his one hand. I know, could I have been more rude? When I noticed him watching me as I stared, I blushed again. He didn't seem irritated and had an amused smile on his face. Steve just shrugged, and we both kept working.

I assumed that he was used to people's curiosity by that point in his life.

"Thanks for breakfast, Steve. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about your relationship with Emily."

He shook his head as he put the last few things away. "It's not her. Look, she was fun and enthusiastic, and that enthusiasm was contagious, but we barely knew each other and it probably wasn't going anywhere. I've had the love of my life. I'm grateful for it and I will always treasure what I had with Gus's mom, but it's in the past. I'm a middle-aged guy living a boring life, not making a ton of money, and getting by with one arm. It is what it is. I like women. When the situation is right, I enjoy spending time with them, but the great romances are in the past.

"No, I don't miss what could've been with Emily. I'm furious at what she did to her husband and how she used me to do it. Sorry. This turned into more of a rant than a breakfast. I'll do better next time."

I was halfway to my car, and he was probably halfway up to his shower when I realized he said next time. And he was right. Our breakfasts became a regular thing.

Two days later, I was approached by Liz, the lawyer. She had a smile on her face and was carrying a briefcase.

"Good morning, Shelley. Do you have time to talk?"

We sat down on the folding chairs next to the table where we held our pamphlets and flyers. She pulled some papers from her briefcase, three sheets that were held together with a paperclip.

"I can't coach you, and I can't write it for you, but you need to submit a complaint about Lyle to the Office of Attorney Regulation Counsel. These are three letters that were submitted within the past twenty-four months. They can give you a feel for what other people have written in their complaints. They are public record, so it can't be considered me coaching you.

"What I can suggest is that you be as comprehensive and as honest as possible. You'll get a phone call from the office within the week. They'll ask pointed questions. Before that, they'll set up an appointment for their phone call. Once you have the date and time, come and see me. I can't help with the letter, but I can help prep for the phone call. I'll be honest, they're supposed to get back to you within a week of your filing of the letter, but it will probably be a lot quicker than that. My partner, Judge Sallister, has a lot of sway around here. He'll nudge a few people."

When I was at Shannon's house that evening, I looked up the Office of Whatchamacallit and it seemed so official. Being run by and about lawyers, that shouldn't have been surprising. I read over the three sample letters, took out my laptop and got to work. When I was done, the complaint seemed too dry, but fair. I would've preferred to explain how smarmy Lyle had been and how betrayed I felt when I realized he was using me against the union, but an unemotional, factual recollection seemed like it would be more effective.

I jumped at the voice behind me.

"You know, I'm officially on leave from my aunt's firm."

Turning, I saw Shannon looking over my shoulder as she leaned against the door jamb.

"Okay. I didn't know you worked for her, but I guess that makes sense."

"What I'm saying is, I'm not working for her now. Which means there's no moral or legal issues if I look over your complaint letter."

"Oh! Would you mind?"

"Not at all. I do, however, demand I be paid in the form of one of those pastrami sandwiches you brought over last night. The aroma's been driving me crazy all day."

Laughing, I agreed. "Deal."

I had thought that I'd done a good job with the letter, but in no time, Shannon had drastically improved what I put down. She reiterated and underscored points that needed emphasis, she improved the organization and provided a bullet pointed summary at the end. When she was done, we discussed it for a minute and then I closed the laptop.

Shannon headed into the kitchen and spoke over her shoulder as she walked. "And you get mustard on that sandwich, right? I think that's traditional."

"It absolutely is." I couldn't imagine living in a city where you didn't know that mustard was a given on pastrami. The sour pickle and rye bread would blow her mind. I wondered if she even knew what a knish was.

"Send it tomorrow. Don't show it to Aunt Liz. Give her plausible deniability."

I heard back from the very regal sounding Office of Attorney Regulation Counsel for the Supreme Court of Colorado within forty-eight hours. We set up a day and time for a phone meeting, and I immediately followed up with Liz.

She had mentioned it before, but she reiterated that it wasn't going to be good for Lyle no matter what happened, but it would be considerably worse if whoever oversaw the complaint process determined that I had been represented by the union's legal counsel. That part was going to be up to her and her partner, the former judge. It was my job to handle the phone call. I needed to come off aggrieved, but reasonable, sure in my answers, but not rehearsed.

I went down to her offices and sat through a few hours of preparatory questions and some light grilling from lawyers at her firm while she and her partner observed and offered feedback. When the actual phone interview took place, I was almost disappointed by how mundane it was. The gentleman asking the questions seemed genial and professional. The whole thing was over in less than forty minutes.

When I called Liz to let her know how it went, I followed up with the concerns.

"When all of this is over, I'm going back to work at the same hospital where he's the legal counsel. Is that going to be an issue? Is he going to hold a grudge?"

Liz had a low chuckle. "I can almost guarantee that will not be a problem. He's not the best lawyer around, but he's not an idiot. He'll probably studiously ignore you and avoid you like the plague. After what's going to happen, the last thing that he'll want is a complaint that comes close to resembling an issue with harassment. If there is an issue, and I'm positive that there won't be, I'll represent you."

That was music to my ears.

Marianne, Shannon's mother, approached me the next day. She had been with Shannon and Lucinda that evening and was getting ready to leave as I arrived.

"If you're working this upcoming Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday, would it be possible to switch to daytime hours?"

"I guess. Is everything alright?"

It seemed as if she was regretting having to discuss something distasteful. "Yes, everything is fine. It's just that Gus will be here for a four-day stay and..."

I smiled. "And Shannon and Gus would like to spend their evenings alone."

"Exactly."

"Of course. It won't be a problem. I'll switch things around and I'll have a new schedule for you by tomorrow night."

"Thank you, Ms Acton. You've been, well, we all have a great deal of faith in you and appreciate what you've done for my daughter and the baby."

I smiled. "They're great, both of them. I'm happy to be here."

Gus arrived a day early. Okay, technically it was a lot less than a day. I had no idea how schedules worked in the military, but apparently, he was able to leave early, get a different flight, and arrive in Pueblo by six. He was already there when I arrived at a quarter to ten. There was a confused look on his face as he turned to look from me to Shannon.

"I'm sorry, I thought somebody would've called you. I was able to get here today. Well, I guess that's obvious. I sort of planned on --"

I smiled. "Spending some time alone with your wife and daughter? I get it." I handed him a bag I was carrying. "Welcome home, soldier. Maybe you could share this with Shannon. It's a pastrami on rye with deli mustard and a garlic pickle. I'll see you tomorrow."

I barely knew the man, but he seemed the stoic type. I was surprised that he was apparently trying not to say something but couldn't stop himself.

"Marine."

I was confused. "What?"

"Sorry. It's Marine, not soldier."

"Oh, I thought that was the same thing."

"No, soldier is for the Army. It happens a lot. It's just that Marines,,, It's not important. Thank you. I'll give her the sandwich. Please tell your father I said hi. There were times while I was at college when he made life livable."

"Dad?"

"I made custom flip books. He saw one and commissioned a few and then got some bands to do the same. They paid much more than they should have, and I was able to come home to see Shannon because of them."

I nodded. "I remember him talking about them. I'll let him know."

My car was parked on the street and as I unlocked it with the fob, I heard a voice call out.

"You want a beer?"

As I looked over at the other house, I saw Steve stand up from the chair he had on the porch. I thought about it for a second and decided I had nothing better to do. I sat down in his living room and when he came back; he was holding the neck of two stouts in his large hand. I noticed the way that the muscles in his forearm rippled as he put one down and handed me the other.

"They're from a brewery on the Riverwalk. I like them. Let me know what you think. Have time for a movie?"

He laughed when he saw my raised eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"Bridge Over the River Kwai. Maybe another military movie. You know us inactive Marines. If we're not drinking at the VFW, we are building tanks from model kits or watching John Wayne movies."

I smiled and shook my head. "You're screwing with me."

Steve had a slight smile as he shrugged. "Well, it is a military movie, but not really. I was going to watch Casablanca. What do you think? Before you answer, I should tell you I'm making homemade popcorn with sea salt and chipotle butter."

"If the popcorn is as good as the French toast, I'm in."

We were halfway through the movie when Steve cocked his head and muted the volume. I could barely hear some music, but it was there. Walking over to me, he reached out his hand. When I took it, he helped me stand, let go, and led me to the back door. Your hand is empty almost all of the time, but you never really think about it until someone lets go and it's empty again. He held up his forefinger to his lips and opened the back door.

It was almost the witching hour and floating through the night air was a violin and trumpet duet. I didn't know what the song was, but it spoke of peace, harmony and love. It was beautiful.

I had been lost for a few minutes, swept away by the music. As it faded, I took a deep breath and noticed Steve staring at me. There was something about his eyes, a gaze that said he was both content and intrigued.

Silently, he nodded back towards the interior of the house, took my hand again, and let me back to the living room.

I decided to see Dad and Haliaka the next day, so I was a little tired when I showed up for Shannon and the baby at noon. I had been down to the picket line that morning and answered some questions for a reporter from the local newspaper. She warned me that the coverage in the print edition would be brief, but it would be expanded in the online version.

When I arrived, Gus stared at me and seemed to be trying to work something out. He was wearing a suit that was slightly too small for him and he looked very handsome. Watching Gus, I could easily picture what Steve had looked like twenty years earlier.

"Shannon went to see her therapist. We are taking the baby out. Can you go with us? Are you supposed to stay here at the house? I don't know how this works with the nurses and private duty stuff. Are there insurance issues?"

Shaking my head, I felt an urge to touch his arm or his shoulder and reassure this overly serious young man. Something held me back. There were intimations that Gus was on the spectrum, and I noticed that the only people he seemed comfortable touching were Shannon and Lucinda. Not wanting to reflexively do something that would make him uncomfortable, I put my hands behind my back and tried to look casual.

"There's no issues at all, Gus. When are we leaving?"

"As soon as pop gets his suit on."

My jaw literally dropped. The thought of Pop in a suit was so foreign that I didn't know what to say.

"Okay. I'm going to go check on Lucinda."

The three Kirschbaum men looked good. Surprisingly good. They each wore suits with ties, all in dark colors. It was clear that the suits were off the rack and nothing like what Lyle or my husband would have worn, but they made it work. Pop's girlfriend, Kate, was there. She was dressed to match. I felt awkward and oddly out of my depth outside their homes. Pop and Kate took his old-school Caddie and followed behind Steve, Gus, myself, and the baby. We were halfway there when Gus turned around to look at me in the backseat.

"It's my mom's birthday."

Not knowing what to say, I nodded. Fifteen minutes later, we were at the cemetery.

The two cars parked on one of the small private streets on the property and we all got out, Gus carrying Lucinda. Pop and Kate pulled bundles of flowers from the backseat of their giant car. Offering me a sad, sympathetic smile, Kate split her bundle of flowers and gave me half. I nodded appreciatively.

We stopped in front of the gravestone for the baby's namesake. Gus was not only silent, he was still. There was a depth to the young man that I hadn't recognized. He was hard to read, but at that moment, his pain was evident to everyone. Steve stood by his side, close enough for Gus to know that he was there, but not quite touching. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be struggling to compose himself. Pop was the only one who was able to speak.

"Hey, kiddo. Haven't been down here for, I guess, three months. The place looks good, you know? And they must've mowed the lawn this morning. It's got that fresh grass smell. Yeah, well, we wanted to introduce you to your granddaughter. Gus and Shannon named her after you. She's a beauty, Lucinda. She takes after her grandma. We miss you every day, you know that, right? We love you, kiddo."

We were all quiet for a moment before Steve started mumbling something. As his voice grew stronger, Pop and Gus joined in, and I realized it was probably a prayer in Hebrew. When they were done, Pop, that bear of a man, that giant that would fight five soldiers who questioned his son's honor, broke down and began crying. Kate wrapped him in her arms and they both cried while clutching each other.

Gus's voice was firm as he recited the Pater Noster. When he was done, he stared up towards the sky. There would've been some fanciful romantic notion that he was gazing towards heaven, but I thought he was trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath and shuddered. When he turned to me, I could see the tears streaming down his face and my heart broke.

"She, she wasn't... Mom wasn't Jewish. She was Southern Baptist. I, I wanted to..."

As much as I wanted to hug that young man, all I could do was nod.

Steve coughed and then spoke. "Can you give me a few minutes?"

His voice was shaky, and I followed suit when Pop, Kate and Gus laid their flowers on the grave. I quickly walked back toward the car as I heard Steve start to speak to his wife. It felt like an invasion that I could hear him telling her about their granddaughter. The four of us waited by the cars and I held Lucinda in the carrier. Eventually, Gus walked back to his father. They stood side-by-side, and I saw the son slowly raise his arms, lower them and hesitantly raise them again before embracing his father.

I didn't know what that cost him, but I couldn't hold back my tears.

When we returned from the cemetery, I spent more time with the baby and tried to stay out of the way of Gus and Shannon. They had four days together, and I wanted to afford them as much privacy as possible. Others were doing the same.

They had some sort of a schedule where people would come by and spend time with Shannon and the baby while Gus was serving. The day we had gone to the cemetery was Kate's day to spend time with them. She clearly had the same concerns that I did about being intrusive, and instead stayed with Pop and Steve next door.