The next day, the Fourth of July, is another scorcher, blistering hot and humid all over again. That teasing shower the night before has not broken the heat wave. I wake when the sun comes up and it comes up before six. The ceiling above my bed has no writing revealing the future. I shut my eyes, hoping for a few moremoments of oblivion to stop the constant question but I might as well have hoped to stop time. I was either going to marry him, or not, and I’d know the answer before the day was done. If you want to marry someone, you know, right? You aren’t undecided between something from Column A and something from Column B at Won Ton Charlie’s
Take Out. It’s either YES, or, no. Somewhere inside I was
listening to a language learned before I was born: This is your
fork in the road, kiddo. Don’t screw it up.
I shower, slip into navy shorts and a hot pink tube top, put on makeup. I
make my coffee strong so it will stand up to ice. I curse the milk gone sour. I
cannot leave to buy fresh milk, and besides, would any store be open? It’s a
holiday.
We need some time. He needs to be constant.
I write out Mrs. Thomas Kleskowski on a scrap of paper and stare at it.
Even if I don’t really change my name legally…Mrs. Thomas Kleskowski.
His wife. I like the sound of that even if I am not changing my name.
Meet Tom’s wife, Lorraine Dusky.
Okay, he hasn’t finished college yet, like he should have.
But he’s smart. We'll figure this out.
I could have written again when I didn’t hear from him—he says he was
depressed—probably because he hated his classes, needed to be not there.
But I got caught up in dating Jim though that was never going anywhere past
graduation.
Nine-fifteen. He’ll be here any minute. The apartment is already oppressive,
it barely cooled off at night, there is no breeze, I have no fan. When he gets here, I
will hug him as soon as I see him. I’ll know. When we got back together before, I
wanted to be with him forever as much as I did before, no question about that. He
is The One, right? Life will be settled. We will figure this out—why didn’t he
graduate yet?
It will be better to be with him. Than not.
I find I am leaning to yes.
Ten. The heat is crawling up my mind. It was late when he left, he needed
rest, maybe he overslept.
But remember the time he woke you up with only three hours of sleep? At
the motel in Dearborn.
He’ll be here any minute, is that a car on the road I hear? Yes….
But the car goes on by.
Eleven.
I can hardly believe this is happening. Exactly how far is Flint?
He will not do this now. He will be here.
Noon.
I cannot see the street from my rear apartment so I cannot look for cars. I
cannot go out, because I must wait. Besides, Miss, where would you go? I cannot
call him because I do not have a phone yet. Nor does he. Even if I find a phone
downtown—who do I call? He’s not at home, his mother is not speaking to him,
and I’m some broad or maybe not anymore and what if he comes while I’m gone?
After last night, he’ll assume the worst.
Is it possible…he is not coming? If someone wants to marry you, he shows
up, right?
I have to wait.
Tick tock two o’ clock.
Three.
I sit in the back yard. No one is having a barbeque on the block, there is no
calling over the fences to neighbors, no sound of bottles being opened or kids
playing with sparklers. The lady downstairs and her girls have been gone for hours,
off to some family picnic, I imagine, and the woman across the hall was picked up
by someone a while ago. The silence is deafening, the heat is oppressive, the
apartment is suffocating, my heart is already lamenting. How did something once
so fine get lost?
I can do nothing but wait. I have nowhere to go.
Four.
He has not come. He is not coming. Why didn’t I say, Let’s seal this with a
kiss?
Five. Six.
Finally, night comes, bearing a shroud.
But fate is not yet done with Tom Kleskowski and me. The gods were
playing games and we were the pawns.
-lorraine from hole in my heart: memoir and report from the fault lines of adoption
From Chapter 1, Back Story. Next: Conclusion of Chapter 1
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Jane will be posting next.
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I've read your books before, but thank you so much for sharing here again. You are such a beautiful writer... you make me feel everything you experienced as I walk through it like I am there with you.
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