Mary and Alvin Ch. 05

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Alvin had promised to call Mary every day, and he kept to that promise. He called her on Tuesday evening and they chatted for more than an hour. He did not like to talk about himself, and would deflect personal questions with a joke, but little by little, she managed to learn more about him. But the more she learned, the more she wanted to know. Their dinner at the sushi restaurant had made her realize that she had been, to some extent, seeing him through biased eyes. He was no yokel, no country bumpkin. He was, if she could steal his own terms, wicked smart and right cunning. But she sensed that there was an inner core that she had not yet been able to touch.

It occurred to her that she had not been particularly forthcoming with him, either. She had told him a bit about her childhood, and that she'd been married and divorced, but not much else about her past.

He asked her to meet him for lunch the next day, and she eagerly agreed. They met at Wendy's Diner, just up the hill from her apartment. She'd gone past it many times, but had not gone in. It looked a little shabby from the outside, but she trusted that if Alvin suggested it, it wouldn't be too bad.

She arrived first and was shown to a booth along the wall, about halfway to the back. She had a clear view of the door and saw Alvin as soon as he entered. As he approached her, she thought about how good he looked in his jeans and chambray work shirt. It amused her that she found that look attractive. If Wyatt had worn the same clothes, he'd have just looked grubby. But Alvin carried his masculinity with an easy grace that she found incredibly sexy. And he was in damn fine shape for his age.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then eased into the booth across from her.

"How's your day going?" he asked.

"Just fine, but it's nice to get out of the office on such a nice summer day. How about yours? Busy?"

"Oh yes," he sighed, "school's out and tourist season is in full swing."

"What do you do in the winter?"

"Well, we sell Christmas trees down to the wharf. I do some plowing. But I do get a fair bit of downtime. Guess I'll be milking alpacas or something before long."

"I don't think you need to milk them," Mary laughed.

"You don't know Jen, she will likely figure out how to make alpaca cheddar or something."

The waitress came over to their table and greeted Alvin by name. He said hello to her and introduced her to Mary, who noticed the woman's eyebrow cock a bit when she looked down at her.

"Pleased to meet you, dearie. What would you like?"

Mary looked at the menu and ordered a BLT. Alvin suggested that she try the onion rings, and she agreed. He ordered some for himself as well, along with a cheeseburger.

"Looked at the weather report?" he asked her as they waited for their food, "Supposed to be a wicked heat wave late in the week."

Mary smiled, "Glad I have my brand new AC."

Alvin laughed. "Let's see if you even turn it on."

"Let's see if you don't come knocking at my door when it gets too hot for you."

"Don't expect it will be the heat outdoors so much as indoors that brings me knocking."

She shook her head at him. "You're too much."

"I sure prefer that to being not enough."

The waitress bought their food. The onion rings were very good.

"I was wondering," Alvin said between bites of burger, "if you might be interested in taking another sail with me this weekend. I've got Sunday free."

"That would be wonderful. So, I'll come down to the wharf on Sunday morning."

"I was thinking Saturday night."

"Oh." She chewed a bite of her sandwich. "So we'd sleep on the boat or go someplace?"

"I was thinking a night on the boat would be nice. Have you ever spent a night out at sea?'

"No, I never went out to sea at all before I met you, silly."

There was a wistful look in his eyes. "Mary, you never saw so many stars. And the peacefulness," he paused, seeming to search for the right word, "the serenity. I'd like to share that with you."

"I'd like that very much."

They finished lunch and Alvin walked her to her car.

"I'm going to be as busy as a horse in clover the next few days, but I'll call you when I can," he said.

She kissed him and touched his cheek. "Alright. I've got a thing Friday. A dinner with people from work."

"I'll see you Saturday, then."

"But you'll call."

"I'll call," he nodded. Mary got in the car and backed out of her parking spot. She shifted to head uphill, and, waved. Alvin waved back, then blew her a kiss.

The afternoon was uneventful, the work that crossed her desk, routine. Mary's mind kept drifting back to Alvin. She thought again that there was much more to him than she had anticipated. He was a man who read, who reflected, who was not shy about showing his emotions. She thought about Wyatt, and the comparison was not flattering to her ex-husband. He turned out to be less than I expected, she thought, then felt a flush of shame for being so uncharitable to him.

Wyatt had loved her, and it had been Wyatt who lifted her out of the long blue funk that followed the death of her father. And there was a period, in the early days of their marriage, that had seemed idyllic.

She was lucky to get a position at First American that paid enough to cover almost all of their expenses. Wyatt took a job in a camera store. It didn't pay much, but they would get by. Eventually, his photography career would take off. She had hoped that they would be able to move out of the small apartment they had shared through college and into a house, but she knew that was not realistic yet, and she understood that a marriage is a partnership that demands the investment of time and effort, not just love. Concerns about finances and careers seemed trivial compared to the joys of going to sleep every night next to someone you loved that loved you back, and waking up the next morning to spend another day of your lives together.

For the first few months after the wedding, just the idea that they were married filled her with a sense of elation. She would find herself looking at her wedding band and feeling a grounded security that she had lost when her father died. Things would be alright. Things would get better and better as she and Wyatt built a life together.

Time went by, and things stayed exactly the same. She went to work at the bank and Wyatt did his shifts at the camera store. Every once in a while, he would get an idea for a photo shoot, but as far as Mary could tell, he wasn't making any effort to advance his career. If he had shown his work to any galleries, she was not aware of it. But, she dutifully went along to his shoots, and he would often have her pose for him. They took photos at the Santa Monica Pier, at Venice Beach, and farther afield, in the wine country of Napa and at Joshua Tree. They were good, he certainly had an eye for composition and color. She tried to subtly urge him to show more ambition about his work, and he would talk about plans to do so, but nothing seemed to come from them.

Mary grew frustrated at carrying so much of their financial burden. When their first anniversary approached and she realized that she'd have to pay some of their bills late in order to afford even a relatively inexpensive night out to celebrate, she decided to confront Wyatt about the situation.

He was sitting on the couch playing a video game when she arrived home from work. He grunted a greeting to her as she kicked off her shoes. She sat in a chair across from him.

"Wyatt? Honey? Can you pause that for a minute?"

"Can't pause an online game, babe," he said, without looking up. Mary watched him for a few minutes, then crossed the room and unplugged the internet router.

"Hey, what the.."

"Oh," Mary said, staring down at him with her arms crossed in front of her, "Maybe you can pause an online game after all."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I want to talk to you."

"I was almost done." Mary sat down and stared at him until he added, "Okay, what did you want to talk about?"

"Wyatt, do you know how much our phone bill was last month?"

"No," he scowled.

"Electric bill? Car insurance? Cable?"

He shook his head. "You're the one with the head for money, I trust you to know all that."

She nodded, "And I do. And I go to work every day. And I clean the house and I make supper and I do the laundry."

"Hey, I help out." He sat upright, clearly agitated.

"Once in a while, yes.But I do most of it, in addition to making most of the money."

"That's not fair. The agreement was that you'd carry most of the finances until I started making money off my photography."

"That's right, and it's about time you do."

"It isn't so easy."

"It might be easier if you put more effort into it."

Wyatt jumped up and stalked into the kitchen. Mary listened to him slamming around in there for a couple of minutes, then he came back, holding a can of Mountain Dew. He flopped down on the couch, silent and sullen.

"Did you even think to ask me if I'd like a drink?" she asked. As soon as she said it, she remembered something her mother had told her; if you fight with your husband, always keep the fight about what the fight is about. She started to apologize, but it was too late.

"Fuck!" Wyatt shouted, " I can't do anything right with you." He stood up and stomped to the front door. He glared at her as he opened it, then slammed it behind him. Through the open window, Mary heard him spit out one more word, "Cunt," and she felt her whole world shift.

She was lying on the couch when Wyatt returned. She had tried to sleep, but managed only a sporadic fitful doze. When she hear his key in the door, she sat up. The clock on the cable box said it was almost one o'clock.

He stopped in the middle of the room, and looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to talk?" Mary asked.

"No."

"But we should."

"Yes."

For several minutes, they sat in silence. Then they both started to speak at once.

"No, you go first," Mary said, "I pretty much said what I had to say."

"You don't understand," Wyatt said, his voice trembling slightly, "I don't like the fact that you do so much compared to me. No guy wants to feel like he's the junior partner."

"Do I make you feel like that? Like the junior partner?"

"Sort of, yeah. And, I know that's mostly because you are unhappy that you have to carry most of the load. And I really do feel bad about that."

"But Wyatt, you don't do anything to try to change it."

He got up and crossed the room, sitting beside Mary and putting his arm over her shoulder. "Alright, then, it's time to get serious," he said, "maybe you can help me create some kind of business plan. I mean, even an artist has to deal with the business side of things. I suck at that stuff, but you are great at it."

Mary nodded. She was tired and wanted to go to sleep. But she was wary of Wyatt's promises. She felt like he was setting her up. If he didn't succeed, it would be her fault. After all, it would be her business plan that failed.

"Wyatt, before we got married, I told you I wanted a real home, an actual house, not some cramped apartment. This is not a home. And I told you that someday I wanted kids."

"I know, honey. Someday..."

She shook her head. "No, Wyatt. If we put together a career plan for you, it's going to have specific goals. And those goals are going to include buying a house, and they are going to include a plan for having a family."

Wyatt sighed. "Okay, but we need to be realistic."

"Oh, honey," she said, "I'm much more realistic than you are."

She stood up, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. Wyatt took her hand as she started to turn way.

"Hey, Mary, I love you."

"I love you too, Wyatt." She bent down and kissed him. "Let's go to bed."

Wyatt was asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow. Mary lay awake for a long time. She was sure that, no matter what plan she formulated, Wyatt lacked the drive to carry it out. And she had lost any hope that he ever wanted to have children. He just didn't want that responsibility. Somehow, she would try to make it work. But as she sought sleep, the one thing that she could not get out of her mind was that he had called her the one name she had never imagined he would utter.

Mary packed a small suitcase for the overnight sail with Alvin. Then she decide that the clothes she had chosen were too nice, too dressy. It was just a sailboat, not a luxury yacht. She unpacked and picked a more casual selection. She did not know where they might end up on Sunday, though. Alvin had said they would likely go ashore somewhere. What if it was place where she'd rather be dressed nicer? She managed to squeeze a dressy blouse and a nice pair of slacks into the bag.

She had just finished packing when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw that it was her mother calling.

"Hi Mom," she said, cheerfully.

"Hello, sweetheart, how are you?"

She had not mentioned to her mother that she was seeing someone, and decided it was probably time to bring it up.

"I'm good,Mom. I'm getting ready to go out. I've got a date."

"Oh, really." She sounded pleased.

"Yes, we've been out a couple of times. He's very nice."

"A local boy?"

Boy. Mary chuckled quietly. "Yes, Mom, he grew up here.His family owns a, well, I guess you'd call it a marina."

"It sounds like you are really starting to find your way there, honey."

"I get homesick, but I am starting to learn my way around more, and meeting some people."

"Okay, well, I will let you get ready for your date. But you'll have to tell me all about this fellow, okay?"

"I will,Mom.Love you."

"Love you too, Mary."

Mary hung up, and realized how eager she was to tell her mother all about Alvin, but how much she dreaded bringing up the issue of his age.

She gathered her things and went out. I'll bet she calls first thing in the morning to ask how the date went, she thought as she headed down the street towards the waterfront.

Alvin saw her as she crossed Front Street. She looked good in her tight jeans and t-shirt, but that suitcase had to go. Who takes a suitcase on a sailboat? He made a mental note to buy her a seabag before they went out again.

"Hey, mister," she called as she approached, "You think it's hot enough to use an air conditioner?"

"i suppose your more sensitive types might," he replied with a grin, "But it's not but about eighty degrees. I'd think a hearty California girl would just take such heat in stride."

He met her on the dock and kissed her. She handed him the suitcase and he stepped onto the deck of Sea Jay, set it down and then reached out a hand to her. She took it and he helped her board.

"Where's this famous sea breeze?" she asked.

"You can't feel it?"

She stood still and concentrated. She felt a little bit of wind on her face, and nodded.

"If it wasn't coming in, it would be ninety."

He stowed the suitcase below deck and returned.

"Alright, First Mate Mary, you ready to cast off?'

"Aye aye, sir," she said, standing up straight and snapping him an exaggerated salute.

"Take the wheel, swabbie."

"And do what with it?"

"Just hold her steady until I say otherwise."

She nervously held the wheel while he untied from the moorings.

With great patience, Alvin coached Mary as she steered out of the harbor and into the broader bay. As the waves grew larger, it was harder to hold her course, and after a few minutes, she slid over and let him take control. As he held the wheel, he raised his face towards the sky. It almost looked like he was sniffing the breeze. He made the slightest adjustment to their course, and the sails billowed out. He has a sense for the wind, she thought.She doubted that a thing like that could be taught, it was something you could only do after a lifetime around the water.

The wind pushed them forward at an increasing speed. They sliced though the waves in an arch that seemed to take them back towards shore. Mary leaned into Alvin and he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight. She looked up at him and saw an expression on his face that she would never forget. He seemed perfectly in the moment, as if he were captured in a portrait, his hair rippling, his eyes focused, his lips parted in a satisfied grin. This is no boy, Mom, she thought, this is a man.

Alvin tacked hard to starboard, and Sea Jay slowed. They glided on, eastward across the bay. The wind had almost completely died, but the air above the water was much cooler than it had been on land.

"Looks like we've still got an hour or so of sun," Alvin said, squinting to the west. "You alright if I drop anchor here? Long way from land, that makes some folks nervous."

Mary looked around. She could seethe tree line along the horizon on three sides, with open water to the south. It was a bit disorienting, but she nodded her head. "This will be fine," she told him.

Alvin killed the engine. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull. He lowered the anchor, then turned to face Mary. They were two feet apart on the gently rocking deck and for a moment they just stood and looked at each other. Then Alvin raised his arms towards her and she took his hands in hers. He guided her to him and their mouths met in a long, tender kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned her head on his chest.

"You know you are always safe with me, don't you?" he asked her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I do," she whispered back. She squeezed him tightly and he squeezed back.

He released her from the hug. "Well, I don't know about you but I could use some supper."

She was curious what he had planned. He ducked down the steps into the cabin, gesturing her to follow.

"It must be hard to cook on a boat," she said, "what happens when there are big waves?


"Well, that's easy, you just lose your appetite."

From a small refrigerator under the counter, Alvin retrieved a bulging burlap sack. He untied the top of it and held it for Mary to peer inside. It was filled with some sort of wedge shaped black shellfish.

"What are those?"

"You never had mussels?" he asked, looking surprised.

She shook her head and he smiled. He enjoyed introducing her to new things.

Alvin put the sack on the counter, returned to the refrigerator and took out a plastic baggie.

"I am nothing if not prepared," he said, "onions and garlic, already chopped."

"What a good boy scout."

"Boy Scouts didn't want me," he laughed, "I'll tell you that story some time. Oh, and I already bearded the mussels."

"I don't know what that means and I'm not sure I want to."

"Just be glad I did it," he said. He removed the lid from a pressure cooker that sat on the counter. Mary noticed that it was actually screwed into the counter top. That seemed reassuring.

Alvin went to the fridge one more time and came up with a bottle of white wine. He popped the cork and took a sip, then handed it to Mary. She sipped and handed it back. Alvin emptied the bag of onions and garlic into the pressure cooker, then poured in about a quarter of the bottle. He handed it to Mary and picked up the sack of mussels. He dumped them in the cooker and sealed the lid.

"Grab a couple of those plastic cups and head up top, I'll join you in a few minutes," he said.

"Aye Aye, Captain."

Alvin came on deck only a few minutes later. He carried the same tray he'd used to serve lunch on their first sail. In the crook of his arm was a long loaf of french bread. Mary slid to one end of the aft bench and Alvin sat at the other, setting the tray down between them. The mussels gave off a steam that smelled of the garlic and the wine and the ocean. Mary handed Alvin a glass of wine and he ladled mussels and broth into a bowl and gave it to her.