Desire Stirring

Desire Stirring

by

Tragudis

Langley Funeral Home is crowded. No surprise, Dave Hartley was a very popular fellow. He had lots of friends and two older brothers. He also had a wife, Shannon, and two daughters, Natalie age nine, and Merl age twelve. A tearful Shannon stands off to the side of the carpeted room, greeting those who have come to pay their respects. A slideshow video plays on a screen set up on one wall. There's Dave in happier times, healthy times, before the onset of the cancer that took his life at forty-nine. Some mourners find it hard to watch, because many of the scenes show Dave with his girls, hugging them, playing with them.

The girls seem to be okay, at least for now. They're in the back of the room, mingling with their friends. Shannon does her best to hold up as her tears flow. People walk up, hug her, say a few words and move on. Funerals might be the most awkward of social gatherings. We grope, sometimes agonize over what to say and how to say it. Nothing's appropriate, and yet just about everything is. What do you say to a still young woman (forty-three) who just lost her husband?

Roy Lerner isn't sure. He's known Shannon for close to thirty years, when she was barely into her teens. He'd see her at family gatherings because she's actually a distant cousin by marriage, a connection so convoluted, he's given up trying to explain it to those who ask. Roy, in his late forties, is a divorced dad of two sons, both grown. He'd like to one day marry again. Truth to tell, he's had his eye on the comely Shannon since she was a leggy middle school student. He's feeling somewhat guilty even thinking that Dave's death has granted him a possible opportunity to get closer to her. The woman's husband has just been laid to rest, for Chrissake! And yet...

He stands a few yards away, wearing his business casual, blue blazer over khakis and loafers, watching her greet the people. She looks uninhibited in her teary display of grief, yet strong at the same time. She's got to be strong, what with two girls to raise alone and a demanding job to hold down. Shannon's an oncology nurse, of all things, and Roy wonders who will take care of her while she takes care of her patients. Well, here goes, he thinks, and steps up to her. She reaches out, and he nearly buries her five-foot-five slender form in his bulky six-foot-two. While she's still in his arms, he kisses her on the side of her head, his lips connecting with her hair, long, silky and dark brown; hair he could get lost in. She smells good, he thinks, so fresh and clean, like she just took a shower, like she might have smelled for Dave before they made love. Of course, he's got enough sense not to say that. Instead, he says, "I'm so sorry for your loss. We don't know each other that well, but if you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to call me." He slips her his business card, more of an appointment card he carries in his wallet.

She nods, even manages to smile. "Thanks for coming," she says.

He backs away, sticks around for another few moments, then leaves for his day job as an orthopedist. His thoughts meander as he drives for work. He doubts she'll ever call. Her brothers-in-law appear supportive and she's got enough friends and family to give her solace. Her mom's still living but her dad, the distinguished professor of English Lit, in one of life's cruel ironies, died of the same cancer that killed Dave. That's life, right? So wonderful at times, so cruel and shitty other times. Who can figure it out? Or, maybe there isn't anything to figure out. God works in mysterious ways, some will say. Not Roy, who gave up attributing life's causes to the All Mighty a long time ago. If there is a superior being—and Roy's not fully convinced either way—he's a gross underachiever as someone once said. He wonders what Shannon thinks, wonders if she's trying to make sense of why this happened, beyond the clinical. Like he told her at the funeral home, he doesn't know her well enough to even venture a guess.

Her marriage to Dave was also somewhat of a mystery to him. Dave came from a working-class background. He was a contractor, made good money when he worked, when the season called for building backyard decks or when the economy was good enough for homeowners to redo their kitchens and bathrooms. Dave never went to college, unlike Shannon who earned a four-year degree, plus a degree in nursing. Dave's two brothers are also contractors, while Rick, Shannon's brother, a computer tech whiz, earned a degree from prestigious Cal Tech on full scholarship.

Roy also knows how they met—at a pool hall, of all places, a cultural incongruity in Shannon's case, it seems to him. Seeing Shannon at family gatherings, Roy sometimes got the impression that hooking up with Dave was a form of rebellion against the intellectual, studious background from whence she came. But then he also sensed that Shannon had this bad girl edge to her, one rarely seen in the cultural milieu her brother and her dad traveled around in. Whatever her psychology, her union with Dave had worked well enough for the two of them to stay together and raise two children until Dave passed away. Now she's alone, her support system notwithstanding. But she'll do okay, he believes. She's strong and earns decent money, not to mention that she's retained her youthful cute sexiness into her forties. He'd almost bet she'll once again find a special man in her life. Quality women like Shannon don't stay single for long, not unless they want to.

*****

Diving into another relationship is not on Shannon Hartley's priority list. Number one is staying strong for Natalie and Merl. She doesn't have the "luxury" of breaking down every time she feels like it, and these days, she feels like it just about all the time. She does her crying after she leaves work and after her girls are tucked into bed. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. The strain of taking care of Dave in his final months have taken a heavy toll. Dave died in hospice care, only days after entering. Her last memories of him alive are hearing him struggle to say his final words. "I love you. Take care of our babies."

She was Merl's age when her dad died of the same thing that took Dave. The same damn thing! She remembers Jean, her mom, carrying on, doing what she had to do; she became Shannon and Rick's tower of strength. Once a housewife, Jean went to work as a secretary for the county school system, earning enough to support the three of them, even enough, with savings, to keep up with the mortgage on their suburban rancher. Shannon's no stranger to adversity, but she never dreamed of one day facing the same kind of adversity. Yet here she is. She's tired of hearing well-meaning friends telling her how unfair life is. She knows it all too well, knew it when her dad died.

She keeps busy. She makes the girls' lunches, gets them off to school, puts in her shift at the hospital, then helps them with their homework and kisses them goodnight. "You're our mom AND dad now," Natalie said to her just days after the funeral.

Jean never remarried, never even dated much during her widowhood. She never found much time for dating and besides, Lester had been the love of her life, irreplaceable, she thought. "But don't be like me," Jean tells Shannon. "You're still young and pretty, and after a year or so of grieving, you might want a man in your life. Not necessarily one to marry, but one to fulfill needs we all have, including me. But I was overly stubborn, proud to the point of silly. Don't be like me."

Shannon puts the advice on a back burner. Like her mom did after she became a widow, Shannon takes things one day at a time, doing her best to get through each day. She still cries, even manages to joke about it with friends. "I've got to have at least one good cry every day," she says. "It's now part of my daily routine, like my yoga and jogging. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Her career actually helps. She sees sick people every day, some with the type of cancer that took Dave. But caring for others helps take her mind off her own problems, including the heartache that leaves her perpetually aggrieved, though not so aggrieved that she can't function. On the contrary, she functions quite well at her job and at home. Keeping busy. She does, one day at a time, week in, week out, month in, month out. Months later, she's able to socialize with friends, meeting them for lunch or dinner, while her mom babysits. "By the way," Jean informs her one day, "I've heard through the family grapevine that Roy Lerner's been asking about you, concerned about how you're doing."

"Roy Lerner, the doctor?"

"Right."

Shannon remembers his warm hug and his invite to talk. "Well, okay."

"Honey, not to get pushy, but it sounds like he's interested in you. If you know what I mean."

Shannon sighs. "Mom, I'm not ready for that."

"He's single and has a hot career going. Handsome, too. Plus, you're both in the medical field. Hint hint."

She laughs out loud, a rarity these days. Then she sings. "Match maker, match maker, make me a match..."

"Make fun if you'd like, but it's been almost a year. Remember what I said about needs? And don't tell me you don't have them."

Shannon shakes her head. "Of course, but...Look, I'm just not ready. But thanks, mom. I know you mean well."

Still, she thinks it over after clicking off. Roy Lerner. Yes, that distant cousin, so distant nobody can determine exactly how they're related. Handsome. Yes, mom's got that right. Tall, blue eyes. Looks too Norse to be a relative. But, he's not a blood relative, although that seems to be in dispute. No one seems to know for sure. Big, as in solid, football big. Hot medical career. Right again, mom. She and Roy have that in common. But how would Natalie and Merl take another man in her life? They could resent her and him. And what would she say if she called him? 'Hi Roy. This is Shannon Hartley. I hear you might be interested in taking me out. Well, here I am.'

Ridiculous. She makes a face, waves the air in front of her. No way she's calling him. Yes, he invited her to, but she can't, she just can't. Too awkward. Besides, as she told Jean, she's not ready.

Weeks later, Shannon receives a wedding invitation in the mail. Her cousin, her uncle's daughter, is getting married. It's a big wedding, Jean informs her, with extended family members invited. Shannon's brother Rick, who lives out of state, can't make it. "We'll go together and sit together," Jean says.

Shannon still isn't up for large gatherings, yet she knows it might do her good to be among people, many of them who had paid their respects at Dave's funeral. Plus, she knows it would mean a lot to Jean to have her there.

Shannon puts Merl, her oldest daughter, in charge, then picks Jean up in her Nissan sedan. Jean still lives in the brick ranger where Shannon and Rick were raised, although she's been feeling that it might be time to sell it and then move into a condo or apartment. Some find it hard to believe that Jean and Shannon are mother and daughter. Where Shannon is slim and average height, Jean, in her late sixties, is short and stout, a body type she's had all her adult life. Shannon has silky, dark brown hair, long and straight, where Jean's hair is light brown, coarser and wavy to curly. Their facial features don't mesh either. Jean's mouth and nose are smaller, her head rounder. Hardly anyone would say that Jean is a picture of what Shannon will look like in twenty-five years.

Both are dressed appropriately for a January afternoon wedding, between formal and business casual. "If only I had the kind of figure to wear what you're wearing," Jean says, in reference to her daughter's green, figure-hugging dress hemmed a couple inches above her knees and a V-neck up top that drops just above her cleavage. Her black heels match the black sash around her waist.

"Thanks. I got this last week," Shannon says, keeping her eyes on the road. "Figured I'd treat myself to something nice."

Jean nods. "And well deserved, kiddo. By the way, doctor Lerner might be there, you know." She looks to her left and grins.

Shannon chuckles. "And if he is?"

"Just saying." Jean pauses to look out her side window, then turns to face Shannon once again. "I know, you're still not ready. Right?"

"You never give up. No, I'm still not ready, and besides, I'd bet that Roy Lerner has a lot more on his mind than me."

"Okay, I won't bring it up anymore."

Shannon reaches out to pat Jean's shoulder. "It's okay, mom. I know you mean well, know you want me to be happy. But I'm doing okay. Not great but okay, and I have you to thank for that, remembering how strong you were, how you carried on after dad died. You were my role model, my rock, my hero."

Jean sniffles and brushes back a tear. "It wasn't easy, kid."

"You can say that again!"

The both manage to laugh.

*****

Shannon couldn't be more wrong, because there's not much more on Roy Lerner's mind right now than Shannon Hartley. He didn't see her during the ceremony, but now he does, sitting a couple tables over in the reception room of the old Tangier Hotel, a classic city landmark. Over a hundred guests sit at round tables atop thick carpeting in this spacious room with chandeliers hanging from an ornate, high ceiling and walls of dark wood paneling wedged between large windows. She's sitting next to her mom, just starting on her salad served by young male and female waiters attired in classic black and white uniforms. It's nice to see her smiling, having a good time. He hasn't seen her since the funeral. She never called him, but then he didn't expect her to. He also sees a few well-wishers coming up to her, obviously to ask how she's doing. Should he be one of those people? Well, why not?

Slipping his napkin off his gray pinstripe suit slacks, he gets up, strolls over to her table and taps her on the shoulder. "Hi Shannon. Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to say hello, see how you're doing."

Fork still in hand, she looks up and smiles. "Doctor Lerner...hi. Doing okay, considering. Getting by. How are you doing?"

"Shannon, you know this man well enough to call him by his first name," Jean interjects, wearing a mock look of pique.

Roy grins and takes Jean's hand. "Well, Shannon and I don't see each other that often and—″

"No, mom's right," Shannon says. "Sorry, Roy. And look, I haven't forgot your offer to talk. But, doing okay, like I said."

He nods. "Good, glad to hear it. Okay, well, enjoy your meal."

He returns to his seat and starts on his own salad. He chats with the other guests, most of whom are coupled up, but his mind stays on Shannon, looking prettier than ever. Obviously, she's not interested in getting together. At least she didn't give him any indication. Either she's not yet ready to date or he's simply not her type. Maybe, when she is ready, she'll gravitate toward blue collar, working class types like Dave and his brothers. Or, maybe that's unfair. It's all speculation on his part. The only thing he's sure of is how pretty she looks, what with her blemish-free, peaches and cream complexion and her hair, tied in one long ponytail that drops to the middle of her back. And that figure, slim and cute and no doubt kept that way through diligent exercise. Oh well...he tried.

*****

Right after he returns to his table, Jean looks at her daughter, holds up her right arm and says, "I'm only going to say this one time, and then I'll never mention it again. Doctor Roy Lerner is interested in you. There, I said it. Now let's eat, drink and be merry."

Shannon grins and shakes her head. "Are you sure about that mom? His interest might be purely platonic."

Jean shoots her a look that says, 'are you kidding me?' Then she says, "Look, honey, I can tell when men are interested and so can you. Stop playing coy."

"Okay, maybe you're right," Shannon finally concedes. She glances over at his table, catching his handsome profile. He is good looking, she thinks, tall, handsome, successful and apparently available. Which would be fine if she were ready to start dating. But she's not. Well, at least that's what she keeps telling herself. Will she ever be ready? Or, will she, like Jean, grow old without ever letting another man back into her life?

She tries to bury those thoughts while eating and sharing conversation with others at her table. It's mostly light talk, comments about the young bride and groom, the weather, news of the day, movies seen, books read. Her own wedding had been a lot smaller and simpler. She and David had opted for a civil ceremony, then repaired back to a VFW hall for the reception. It had been nothing like this gourmet feast of veal, seafood and champagne and some fancy desert of coconut, pine nuts and custard, so delicious she could eat three of them and would if she wasn't so figure conscious. That would mean another five miles or so of calorie-burning road work, not something she'd look forward to. The coffee is delicious also, and she takes her first sip as the band begins to play and bride and groom appear for the first dance. So young, so happy, she thinks, watching them slow dance to We've Only Just Begun, that old staple of wedding numbers that never seems to grow old. Parents of the bride and groom then appear, followed by guests who alternatively rock and slow dance on the parquet dance floor.

If Dave hadn't gotten sick, she thinks, they'd be among those couples. Both of them enjoyed dancing. She could even picture them out on this very dance floor, swinging and jumping during the fast numbers, then pressing their bodies together when the band slowed things down. Feeling her eyes misting up, she looks away, wipes away a tear and then stares down at the table.

Jean notices and takes her hand. "It's hard, honey, I know," she says. "We can leave if you'd like."

"I was doing okay until the dancing," Shannon says.

Jean nods. "I get it, believe me, because I went through the same thing. You're doing okay one moment and then you're waylaid by something that triggers memories. Like couples dancing together."

She nods, then looks up toward the table where Roy is sitting. He's looking at her! Suddenly, she feels all giddy and excited. She smiles, he smiles back. Then she sees him pointing to the dance floor. 'Okay?' he seems to be saying if she's reading his lips correctly. Well, why not? It's better than sitting around this table moping, feeling sorry for herself. She grins and nods yes.

He comes over and looks at Jean. "Mind of I steal your pretty daughter away for a few minutes?"

"Please do," she says. "It's about time she gets out there."

The band is already into But It's All Right, a rousing oldie but a goodie dance number with no discernible steps—ideal for those who yearn just to get out on the dance floor and move, to work off steam. Shannon hasn't done this in ages, not since Dave first got sick. Roy moves pretty well for a big guy, she thinks. He's agile and he's got rhythm. He's got his suit jacket off, his colorful tie tucked inside his blue, long-sleeve shirt. He's smiling at her, she's smiling back and she's having fun, actually having fun for the first time in...it's been too long.

"Thanks, I needed that," she says when the music stops. But not for long, because then the band launches into a slow number, Bob Dylan's Make You Feel My Love.

"I'm game if you are," he says.

She nods. "Sure." Shannon loves this song, especially Adele's version of it.

This is awkward, she thinks. Awkward but nice. She's slow dancing with one of the best-looking men in here. The chiseled features and full head of sandy-colored hair, neatly parted on the side. The blue eyes and the warm smile. He's keeping his distance too, respecting what she's been through, she surmises. She shakes her head, feels she's blushing.