As for Sherry, she was dead to the whole world except for her new toy and her very happy pussy. She came twice and might have managed number three but for the Valium, entertaining a small army of fantasy lovers, and making her husband watch her with every last one of them.
When she finished, and began to drift away into sleep, she wasn’t exactly happy or content. But she was too spent to be miserable, and that was an improvement.
December Twenty-fifth
All of the Fords stood before the big living room window at seven twenty-two that morning. The twinkling tree stood behind them, ignored. They were looking at the snow.
It had snowed all night. That same ridiculous light fluttering of snowflakes. Yesterday the world outside had a thin covering of the stuff. Now they had inches of it. It made a big pyramid in the birdbath. It all but buried Jasper’s doghouse, which lay in a depression near the fence. Josh’s Charger, which he and Neal had spent a precarious hour pushing home the previous evening, was heaped high with it. And it was still coming down.
For a long while silence hung in the air as they surveyed the scene, in disbelief. A Currier and Ives scene, but for the white-shrouded palm trees.
“Dude,” said Josh, breaking the silence. “It really snowed!”
In spite of everything Neal laughed. So did Sherry.
“Hey Josh, I saw that movie about you,” said Vanessa. “A Beautiful Mind?”
“Oh fuck you.”
For an hour or so they opened gifts, chatted fairly easily, acted like a family. There was an undeniable coldness between Sherry and Neal that would not thaw, but they seemed to be keeping their barbed remarks to themselves. Vanessa cooed and giggled over all the baby items she opened, bibs and rattles and androgynous dresses, altogether behaving in a giddy, feminine manner that Neal had never seen in her before. Josh found it hilarious that his sister had given him swim fins and a diving mask, considering the weather outside. Sherry was thoroughly surprised at the stack of Cary Grant and Clark Gable DVD’s Neal had given her — it was a thoughtful, knowing gift, reminding her of the old Neal for the first time in weeks. He must have bought them ages ago, she thought. And Neal was frankly blown away that Sherry had found a first pressing of Sergeant Pepper on vinyl — complete with psychedelic rainbow wrapper and punch-out cardboard toys. The card read “From Josh,” so he directed his official thanks to his son. But he knew Sherry had been the one to find it for him; his son knew as much about the Beatles as he did about Quantum theory.
The good spirits, the joviality, the nonchalance and humor lasted about three hours, long enough to see them through the gift giving and an early lunch. Around eleven thirty Sherry cleared away the plates and brought out dessert number one: strawberry rhubarb pie.
But there was a lot of talk about the weather, and that led to trouble. Neal said that the snow would shut things down pretty quickly, suggesting that they get to the store and stock up on a few supplies. Sherry asked him just how he proposed to do that. Neal said they could try her Volkswagen, it would probably get them to the convenience store and back, at least. Sherry asked him if he was trying for two cars in the ditch.
Neal, full of turkey and stuffing and potatoes and pie that his wife had prepared, was reluctant to respond to her sarcasm the way it deserved. Instead he fell silent, and the gloom returned to the house.
***
Around one, Neal tried to pick up something — anything — on the television in the den. But the cable was still out, and he didn’t know where the antenna was, or if they even had one for this set. So he brought the old TV down, the one from the bedroom. His wife disavowed all knowledge as to the whereabouts of the remote.
After fussing with the rabbit ears for twenty minutes he managed to get one station from Jacksonville, and he and Josh laid about in the den, watching The Grinch. After that a parade came on and he left the room. Parades bored him shitless.
He snuck into his office, a small room off the den, and the coldest room in the house. He knew that Sherry was in the living room, talking with Vanessa, so he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be disturbed. Once connected he quickly logged into his free email account to see if he had a reply to his message.
He had sent Melanie a short note early yesterday morning. The cold and the loneliness in his own home made him think of her pityingly. She didn’t have family in the city, and he didn’t think she had too many friends either. The thought of her spending a solitary Christmas in her tiny apartment made him sick and miserable, caused him to miss her all the more. He hadn’t written much — just a few short lines, testing the water as it were. But he had admitted to her that things weren’t well with Sherry and him, and that he was seriously considering calling an end to the whole thing.
Neal had hoped that his message might bring some good feelings to poor Melanie, would let her know that he hadn’t forgotten her. Maybe it would even give her something to look forward to, once the holiday was over and the weather cleared up.
He was thrilled to find that yes, she had indeed replied to him. There among her older messages, dated from October, was a new unread one whose subject was FOR YOU BABY. His heartbeat quickened as he opened it, the term of endearment melting all his reservations and fears at once.
There was no text in the message, only an HTML page for him to download. He clicked on it eagerly, wondering what she had sent him. Maybe a clever little computer Christmas card she made herself — the kind of silly, juvenile thing that might have annoyed him once, but which he would utterly welcome now. Or maybe . . . it was a nude picture of herself or something? He could see her doing that — turning up the heat a notch, trying to get him back.
The download was complete within a minute, but he was a little disappointed to find that it was a fairly simple text message, on a buff colored background:
“Dear” Neal;
How very sweet of you to drop me a line. It’s only been six weeks or so after all. Imagine how thrilled I was to find out that you and your wife are still fighting. Oh oh oh might there be a chance for me after all??? I’ll be sure to hold my breath until you come back to me, dear.
For your information I’m spending Christmas with my parents in Tampa. So when you do manage to get away from the house, you can forget about coming for a little visit because I won’t be there. You can forget about it permanently. I wouldn’t let you within a mile of me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about us for the past few weeks, dear sweet Neal, and have decided that really I need to thank you. You made me aware of just how bad it can get. Thank you for showing me just how fast and how cruelly a man can leave — I’ll know better next time. Thanks also for all the nice things you said about my body. Now I’m not nearly so afraid to get naked in front of guys. Which guys have I been getting naked for? Wouldn’t you like to know?
Goodbye now and don’t ever, ever write me again.
Melanie
P. S. Thanks also for downloading this attachment. Next time you go fishing off the company pier, you might not want to fuck with the girls from programming. You now have three or four of the more destructive, faster acting computer viruses in your system. It was the least I could do:)
Have a nice crash!
Neal finished reading the last lines just as the cursor froze. When he tried to reboot, he got an empty black screen.
***
Vanessa managed to corner her mother around one. She’d been looking to catch her alone, and finally got her chance while the men watched TV. Sherry Ford was sitting in the living room with a cigarette and a Scotch, staring blankly out into the glowing white yard. She smiled when Vanessa came in and kissed her cheek; she smiled even more, and blushed a deep crimson, when asked if she was having a nice Christmas.
“I had a much nicer Christmas Eve,” she all but whispered.
Vanessa giggled softly. “Did you like it then?”
“Oh baby,” said Sherry, exhaling smoke. “Of course I did. I don’t know how you knew I needed one — I think you can read my mind.”
“No, I can just hear you moaning and groaning,” she said, laughing mischievously.
Her mother blushed even deeper. “Oh no,” she said, grimacing.
“Mom, I don’t know when you’re gonna figure out these walls aren’t sound proof. It’s okay, don’t worry about it!”
“What all did you hear? No, never mind that. What have — I mean, have you heard us — your father and I — in the past?”
“Duh. Yes, of course. Try not to listen if I can help it.”
“Oh my God,” Sherry groaned, cradling her forehead in her hands.
“Mom, I swear, it’s okay. Kinda sweet, really. Actually, it was when I stopped hearing noises next door that I started to worry . . . ”
Her voice trailed off. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“Yeah, well,” said Sherry, stubbing out her cigarette. “Not without good reason, as it turns out. I’m sorry — I shouldn’t be smoking around you and the baby –”
“S’okay. So you did like it, then. I’m glad.”