Rule Fifty
Alvin woke to the smell of coffee. For a second he thought he'd had a wonderful dream, then realized it had been real. Mary was not beside him. He sat up and pulled on his shorts and t-shirt. He looked out the window and saw the first rays of the sun illuminating the harbor. He had never seen the view from this angle, although he had watched dawn break on the water many times over the years. Since before she was born, he thought, with a pang of guilt. The difference in their ages shouldn't matter, but he feared that it did.
Those thoughts faded when he stepped out of the bedroom and saw Mary standing at the stove, wearing a pair of plaid sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. Her hair was a tangled mess, but he still thought she was beautiful.
She looked at him and smiled.
"Good morning," she said, "I was just about to cook some bacon."
Alvin crossed to her and she leaned back into his arms. He hugged her around the waist and kissed the side of her face as she dropped the slices of bacon into the hot pan.
"I need to get down to the yard, I should have been there already."
"Uh uh," she said, shaking her head, "You are not running out on me without breakfast."
"I'm not running anywhere, believe you me." He kissed the back of her neck.
"Go wash up and get dressed," she said, pushing him away, "Scrambled eggs okay?"
"That'll be fine." He kissed her neck again, then went to get ready for work. When he was washed and dressed, they sat down together at the little dinette table and ate their breakfast. After a few moments of silence, Mary reached across the table and touched Alvin's hand.
"I had a wonderful time, yesterday," she told him. "All of yesterday."
He grinned and took hold of her hand. "So did I. And not for the last time, I hope."
She shook her head. "No, I don't think it will be for the last time." She looked at his clothes. "Are you going to stop home and change?"
Alvin lifted the front of his shirt to his face and sniffed. "I think I'll be all right."
Mary chuckled. He was so unlike her ex-husband, or any man she'd known before. She leaned forward and sniffed. "Not too bad. Maybe you can jump in the ocean some time during the day and take a bath."
Alvin laughed. "Mary, you are not the first woman to tell me to go jump in the ocean, but you are the first one to make it sound like a kindly suggestion."
"Where do you live anyway?" she asked him.
"Out the Puddledock Road."
"Puddleduck? Why is it Puddleduck Road and not Duck Puddle Road?"
"Not "duck", "dock." Puddle Dock. If you didn't have that accent, you'd understand."
"Well, I have no idea where that is."
"I can tell you," he said, drinking the last of his coffee, "it's in bike riding distance."
He stood to leave and she followed him to the door. He turned and took her in his arms. "I'll not have it said I didn't say thank you Mary, for breakfast, for sailing with me, for everything."
They kissed, and he did not want to leave, and she did not want him too, but he opened the door and clumped down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he turned and waved. Mary waved back, and raised her hand to her lips to blow him a kiss, but he was already out the door.
She sat back down at the table and finished her coffee. She reached for a note pad. She had one close at hand, she always did. She found a pen and began making a list of chores for the day. There was still so much unpacking and arranging to do. Just shelving her many boxes of books would take hours. There were her winter clothes to put away, as well as a good portion of her kitchen utensils. At some point, she needed to get to the grocery store and she wanted to go to a nursery to buy some house plants.
She cleared the table and put the breakfast dishes in the sink. As she began working on her new household, she couldn't help thinking about how different it was from where she had begun or where she had ever expected to be.
Mary thought of herself as a conventional person. She did not think there was anything about her that was extraordinary or unusual. Even her name seemed so ordinary. When she was young, she had dreamed of being a dancer, and for several years, her mother had hauled her from one practice or recital to another. But in her early teens, a growth spurt ended that dream, and no other had risen to replace it.
High school was easy for her, at least at the outset. She got good grades, had a wide circle of friends, and was involved in many activities.
A handsome boy named Charlie Mendoza asked her to go with him to the Freshman Dance, her very first date. It was a lovely evening, and he kissed her twice, once on the dance floor and again at her door. Her head filled with fantasies about Charlie, about becoming his girlfriend, about a big traditional wedding. She filled the back page of her math notebook with variations on her imagined future name; Mary Mendoza, Mrs.Charles Mendoza, Charlie and Mary Mendoza. But Charlie didn't ask her out again.
The rejection hurt for a while, but there were soon other boys asking for dates, and Mary moved on. It wasn't long before someone else caught her eye. His name was Jason Bell, and he was in two of her classes. It took her a while, but she eventually got up the nerve to speak with him in the hall between classes.The next day, he walked her home. Then he began to walk her home very day.
But just a few weeks later, her whole world changed. She remembered vividly the day that she came home from school to find her parents and two of her three older brothers waiting for her in the living room. Stephen, the eldest, was away at college.
"Sit down, Mary," her mother told her, "Your father needs to talk to all of you."
Her stomach turned over. She knew something was terribly wrong. Her father sat, hunched over, in his favorite chair, squeezing his hands tightly together. He cleared his throat, then looked up at his children.
"Kids, I need to tell you." He paused, struggling to go on. "We didn't want to scare you, so we haven't said anything. But we have been waiting on some test results from the doctor, and we got them today."
Mary heard her mother sob, and crossed the room to sit next to her. They took each others hands as her father continued.
"The news is not good. I have a very advanced case of pancreatic cancer."
For a minute, no one said a word. Then both the brothers, Robbie and Dan, began peppering him with questions. He held up his hands and quieted them. Mary sat in silence, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"One thing at a time," her father said, "first of all, I will be going in for surgery next week. There is a reasonable chance that they can get it all out."
Mary did not think a "reasonable" chance sounded optimistic. She wanted to hear him say there was an excellent chance, even just a good chance. The room was quiet, but finally, she spoke.
"What if they don't?" she asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated, then explained to her that they could try chemotherapy if the operation wasn't entirely successful. He put on a smile that did not convince her and said, "But it's going to be alright, sweetie, don't worry."
She worried. She could not think of anything else. When Jason called, she made excuses not to talk to him. In the rare moments when a book or a television show took her mind off her father's illness, she would feel guilty when the reality of the situation returned to her thoughts.
The surgery was not a success. The cancer had spread. Within weeks, her father had wasted down to a shadow of his former self. Mary sank into a gloomy mood. Her mother continued to put on a face of optimistic good cheer, but Mary knew they were just waiting for the inevitable.
The end came less than two months after that family meeting. The family gathered around his bedside, and Mary sat, her hand on his shoulder as he drew his last breaths. But her eyes were on the floor. She could not look at her father as he passed away. She was afraid that if she did, she would never stop crying.
Mary felt like she was walking in a fog in the days that followed. It lifted only a little bit after the funeral, but the slightest reminder of her father would plunge her back into gloom. One day she noticed that his slippers were still in the bathroom, and she broke down in tears. Only when her mother had taken away the slippers could she regain her composure.
Gradually, her mood lightened, but she remained withdrawn at school and among her friends. As the holiday season approached, she struggled not to slip back into despair. When one of her friends invited her to a New Year's Eve party, she agreed, with some reluctance, to attend.
When she entered the decorated banquet room, she thought she had made a mistake. Nearly all the guests had come as couples. A DJ was playing records, and the dance floor was crowded. Mary sat by herself at a table in the back of the room and watched for a while, wondering how soon she could gracefully slip back out.
She noticed a boy sitting alone a few tables away. He wore big black glasses and his hair stuck up in a cowlick, but he was sort of cute, in a nerdy way. After a minute's hesitation, she went over and sat down next to him.
"Mind if I sit here?" she asked.