Читать книгу Addy's Redemption: A Novel - Juliana Ormsby - Страница 9

Chapter III

Memories of

Sound View Beach, Connecticut

During the ride home from Middletown, Lionel suddenly announced that he was planning to rent his co-worker’s summer cottage in Maine.

Oh, hell, thought Addy. How will I be able to tolerate him all day every day for a week?

“Charlie says he has two weeks available,” he continued.

TWO WEEKS, Addy thought with alarm. What a perfect penance.

“Of course, I can’t take two weeks off from work, but you and the kids can go.”

Addy straightened up and replied, “Of course. What weeks will we be going?”

“August 14^th through the 27^th. I’ll be in Denver, but I think you can manage the kids all right without me. After all, it’s about time you started to show some responsibility.”

She was dumbfounded. Had she heard him correctly? Did he say he would be in Denver? Does that mean he will be letting us go without him? Maybe there is a God after all. As soon as they got home, Addy would start crossing off the days until vacation on the calendar.

The last time Addy had stayed in a cottage by the shore was when she was a child. It was at the ocean that she felt truly alive. Although Addy did not realize it at the time, as a child, she believed there was something wrong with her because she had lost her parents. That was a very unlucky thing. Aunts Sophia and Hazel used to take her to Sound View Beach to stay with some Italian friends who rented cottages in a little Italian enclave every summer. During those two weeks, Addy became someone else. She spent her days floating in the ocean, collecting shells, digging in the sand, and fashioning elaborate castles with canals and moats. All the kids would hunt for snails, and the women would boil the hapless creatures for supper. They would use an open safety pin to dig out the snail’s body. Addy just could not stomach the snails. Fortunately, there were always other delicious choices like homemade raviolis or veal cutlets.

The women, joking and laughing, standing over huge pots of boiling pasta, and brushing the hair away from their sweaty brows with bent wrists, could have been a Van Gogh painting. Addy didn’t know Italian, and the women knew very little English, but no one cared. At times, a look of sadness clouded the women’s happy faces as they observed Addy, commenting, “Poveretta.” Addy later learned that translates something like, “Poor little thing.” They felt sorry for Addy because she was an orphan, but they treated her as if she was one of their own children. Even Addy’s aunts loosened up at the shore, smiled more, and treated Addy with greater warmth. In Addy’s mind, Italians were magic. They loved life, no matter what the circumstances. Food, wine, music, children, nature…. these were the treasures of those beloved people.

In addition to the snails, the kids collected buckets of indigo blue mussels, and the Italian men would pry open the shells, then slurp and swallow the slimy orange bodies of the mussels live. Addy nearly threw up at even the idea of this practice, but she had to admit, the mussel-slurping men stirred admiration for what was to Addy a solely masculine pastime. There was so little masculine influence in Addy’s life.

The Italian ladies were fat, but they didn’t seem to care. They all wore long, dark swim dresses, rubber bathing caps, and water shoes. Later in the day, when the cooking was done and the sun less intense, the women would wade into the shallow water, link hands, and sing in their broken English, “Ring arouna da rosy.” They coaxed the children to join the circle, and when they came to the verse, “Ashes, ashes, all fall down,” everyone would dunk into the water, squealing with laughter. Addy was sure this was how life was supposed to be.

The old Italian ladies would jokingly call Addy, “Cigar Mail.” Well, at least that was how it sounded. Addy later learned they were saying “Zia Carmela,” which means “Aunt Carmela.” The practice she shared with this “aunt” was to change her bathing suit every time it got wet. Addy hated when the sand collected in the rear of her suit, making it droop, as if she had a load in her pants. Thankfully, her aunts did acquiesce to this one simple pleasure and brought along an ample supply of swimwear for Addy. Some suits had coordinating bathing caps decorated with floppy rubber flowers.

The grown-ups warned the kids not to track sand into the cottages, so when Addy needed to change her suit, she rapped dutifully on the wood frame of the screen door, hoping to get the attention of one of the adults inside. Sure enough, “Cigar Mail,” amused by their mutual habit, brought out a fresh suit from Addy’s dresser drawer. It happened to be one of Addy’s favorites: it had a gray background printed with small yellow flowers and a flounce around the bottom.

Addy thanked “Cigar Mail” politely and then ran down to the changing rooms. This little group of shorefront cottages owned by a short-tempered Italian widow who rented to the same group of Italian families every year boasted outdoor cold-water showers and rustic wood privacy stalls with long doors that latched from the inside.

When Addy grabbed the handle on one of the changing stalls, the door flew open. Apparently, a woman had forgotten to slide the latch to secure the entrance. Addy stood there frozen, gaping at a sight she would never forget. She had never seen anyone naked, but in her wildest dreams, she couldn’t have imagined anyone’s backside being so enormous, saggy, and pink. The poor woman said kindly, “Closa da door, honey, closa da door.”

After she changed her suit, Addy spent the entire afternoon floating on her back in a plump tire inner tube. She bobbed along on the waves, humming her favorite tunes, heart bursting with joy and thanksgiving for the gift of her ocean. She had usually remembered to head for shore before high tide, but this one particular day, she was lost in dreams of mermaids and mermen in their underwater kingdoms. Voices calling to her from the shore shook her abruptly from her fantasy. Glancing toward the beach, Addy saw her aunts, the Italian women, and the kids motioning for her to come back.

Addy never learned to swim and was scared of deep water. She tried to turn over on her stomach with the tube ringing her waist so she would be in the best position to paddle back to shore. As she shifted her body, the tube began flipping. Panicking, Addy lost hold of it. She was sinking, realizing too late that the tide had come in, and she was very far from land. The tiny figures on the shore waved frantically but helplessly because none of them knew how to swim either.

Addy’s mind raced with what she knew to be true: “If you go under three times, you will drown.” Addy was drowning. As she disappeared into the bottomless sea, she knew this was the end. How surprising to die so young. Yet, she was not afraid. She often thought that maybe Mommy had become a mermaid and Daddy a merman now living under the magnificent sea. Perhaps she was going to join them.

Suddenly, she felt a strong arm grab and pull her. Someone was rescuing her. The trip from way out in the ocean and back to shore was a blur. All she knew was that a strong, hairy Italian man had jumped in, lit cigar and all, to get her. The strangest part of this near-death experience was neither Addy nor her vacationing Italian friends had ever seen this man before and never saw him again. She was convinced a cigar-smoking angel saved her life.

In the evenings after dinner, the kids would walk to a nearby concession stand for Italian ice. There was a merry-go-round, too, with a long metal arm that dispensed brass rings. As your horse whizzed past the outstretched mechanical contraption, you had to lean far out to try and grab a ring. Most rings were silver, but if you caught the rare golden one, you got your next ride free. Addy strove to catch a ring but was frightened she might fall if she leaned too far off her horse. This was after all, a very fast-spinning carousel. One time, the merry-go-round attendant cheated and placed the golden ring in Addy’s fingers. She never forgot how proud and special she had felt that night because of that man’s simple act of kindness.

There was a penny arcade where the kids could play all kinds of games such as pinball and skee ball and stuff themselves with popcorn, candy apples, and cotton candy. Aunt Sophia and Aunt Hazel did not want Addy to spend too much time at the arcade because the older boys always hung around there. The Italian kids could go out alone, but as expected, the aunts chaperoned Addy on these evening excursions, which put a damper on things. In spite of her “shadows,” Addy had great fun. As the sky darkened, and they all walked back to the cottages, the kids felt exhausted but exhilarated. All day in the salty water and hot sun erased every thought from their minds. With the cottages’ windows open, the drowsy, sunburned children drifted off to sleep to the reassuring music of the waves rolling gently to shore.

Addy kept these precious recollections of the Sound View Beach vacations locked up in her heart and took them out when things got tough. The two weeks at the shore were her redemption, her escape from a flat, gray existence into a short chapter of her life that was once brimming with vitality, hopes, and dreams.

As Lionel drove toward town, she thought again about the poor woman she had burst in on at the changing stalls at Sound View. To a small child, an enormous derriere is a shock, but Addy suspected her own ass was probably that large by now. As some men often say about women, she had “let herself go.”

* * * * *

Addy’s reminiscence suddenly shattered with a sharp remark from Lionel.

“Earth to Addy. Earth to Addy. Are you listening?”

Startled, Addy replied, “Of course. You said we would be going to Maine from August 14^th through the 27^th, and you’ll be in Denver.” Hallelujah! She thought mischievously.

Summer finally arrived, and the kids were ecstatic, counting the days until their first real vacation. School usually got out in mid-June, but by the end of July, the children were usually bored already. This year they had something marvelous brewing; Mary took charge of crossing out the days on the calendar.

Weeks before the vacation, Addy started to iron and pack. Her petite figure ballooned in recent years, and one thing she dreaded was shopping for a new swimsuit. God knows she would never fit into the relics she had saved in case she lost weight. Food was Addy’s drug. She turned to it when she was nervous, stressed, or depressed, which was most of the time. Lionel and the children loved dessert after dinner (and she did, too) so she continued to bake. Lionel golfed and lifted barbells in the basement, and he hadn’t blown up with age like Addy. He criticized her weight, but that did not keep him from wanting sex nearly every night.

One morning, Addy reached up to the closet shelf to take down a suitcase Lionel no longer used for his business trips. He had recently purchased a new set of expensive leather luggage for his travels. Addy had no need for suitcases because she and the kids never went anywhere. Inside the suitcase was a piece of paper that looked like a receipt of some kind. Before discarding it, Addy noticed it was a voucher for Mr. and Mrs. Roberge for two nights at the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs.

As much as Addy despised Lionel, her heart sank. So he had a woman in Colorado. That must be where he was going. What infuriated Addy was imagining how he probably treated this woman. Broadmoor was a luxury hotel featured in one of Addy’s magazines. Lionel, in his warped sense of morality, might think one woman outside “the holy sacrament of marriage” was not as bad as having several, particularly if he were “in love” with this person. Addy doubted if this lady was his only lover. Over the years, he traveled to several cities for business meetings, and his drinking escalated. He must have picked up his share of bar flies.

I wonder if this woman knows Lionel is married with children? Addy mused. She was undoubtedly married and did not give a hoot. On the other hand, maybe she was attracted to his charm and lavish spending habits, thought Addy sarcastically.

“What a joke,” Addy laughed, crumbling up the receipt, and then rushing to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. If Lionel suspected Addy knew something about his conniving to go to Colorado, he might explode and cancel her vacation with the kids. Their first real vacation…she just could not believe that James, Peter, Mary, and she were about to share two whole weeks together without Lionel. Could it really be possible?