Bad Habits Part 9

"You like it, huh?" she asked.

Every woman wanted to be complimented for her cooking. Nurse Kim's praise was well deserved. He sat back and patted his belly. One of the twins imitated him patting his belly too. The other laughed. So did Kim. "I haven't been fed this well since I left home."

"Tell you what, the lasagna's yours. I'll wrap it up for you to take home. Keep you off the tuna."

"Tuna!" repeated Danny.

Mathew reached over and picked up Danny's spoon.

"He doesn't like to be fed. Thinks him self a big boy. Just leave it, and he'll eat," Kim said shaking her head at her son's half eaten plate.

Mathew scooped up some sauce and noodles, then offered it to him. Danny opened his mouth and accepted it, chewing. He pa.s.sed the spoon off to the toddler who began eating again on his own.

"You really are good with them," Kim said, her brow pleated into a deep frown. "Danny's going through that stage where he eats when the mood strikes him. It's hard to keep him on a schedule. I think he's trying to impress you."

"Didn't have to. I was impressed from the moment I met them."

"Why's that? I mean you and kids? You seem to like them a lot."

Mathew sat back. He winked at Denny who grinned before he sipped more from his Winnie the Pooh cup. The question had him searching. He could only think of one answer. "I like families. Love them in fact. Kids, mothers, families."

"Oh? That's right. You have twelve brothers and sisters. So you're used to a big family. Mother and father raised you right."

"Just a mother, no father."

She paused and tried to hide her shock, but he saw it. He understood. A woman with twelve kids and no husband definitely had a story to tell. "My father worked at a paper mill and died in an accident when my oldest brother was 16. I was four. So not too many memories of him. Mom was pregnant with Sally, the youngest. By then we were one big family."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was tough, especially for her. She had to take in laundry, and my older brothers had to drop out of school and farm out. We lived in a four-bedroom house. Imagine that."

"She sounds remarkable. To raise a doctor, she did a good job."

Mathew tried to share in her smile, but even now it hurt to think of the loss of his mother. "Yeah, me being a doctor came too late. I was in college when she died of breast cancer. She didn't get a chance to see me graduate." He looked over to Denny who was sipping his juice. "Still, she showed me a lot, taught me a lot about the love of family."

Kim fell silent. He looked up to her and noticed the sadness return. He understood why. Sitting in the living room while she set the dinner table, he saw her life with her husband. Pictures were on the shelves and the lamp tables from their wedding to his receiving an award from the Mayor in a firefighter's uniform. Every one of the photos featured a smiling beautiful black couple, but not a one of them with her sons. Her husband's death must still be painful for her.

"Well, time for baths," she said. "It's easier to settle them in if we go straight for it."

"Can I help?"

"No," she snapped. He looked to her for an explanation, but she dropped her eyes away. "Sorry, they can be a handful. Besides, you're a guest. Why don't you watch TV, have another gla.s.s of wine. It won't take long."

"I didn't mean to impose. I just thought-"

"No worries. Thank you for offering."

He watched her rise and fight with one son then the other to get them out of their chairs. It was hard not to offer to help her again. But he resisted. She picked up Danny and put him on her hip, took Denny by the hand and hurried them away from the table. He figured he should be content she didn't show him to the door.

The bath was a disaster. Maybe it was the wine. It could have been the fact she had a man in her house. Either way, she couldn't get the boys to behave. They drenched her. When she finally got them bathed, changed and in their beds, she had to run out to get them fresh cups of milk. The only bargaining tool she had was milk and turning on their TV. Though she caught Danny yawning repeatedly, just maybe she'd be lucky.

Returning to the living room, she found Mathew seated, watching television. She should have sent him on his way. She was surprised that he waited. Part of her was okay with it. She was rude at the end, and she didn't mean to be. He was a nice enough guy. However, she was uncomfortable with how at ease he was with her and the boys. Possibly because she felt so at ease in return. Kim fixed the boys milk, got them settled and returned.

"All done."

He looked up and his eyes stretched. She'd forgotten her appearance. Kim looked down at herself. Shirt wet, front of her jeans wet. Her hair that she always wore pulled back into a neat tuck was loose in strands around her face. She looked like she'd been in a battle, a water fight.

"Did they get the bath or you?"

She laughed. "Maybe I should have taken you up on your offer." She came over and plopped down. "I can deal with cranky hospital patients but those two are a challenge. I don't know. I think they like making it tough on mommy."

"Mommies are tough."

Kim folded her leg under her and looked to the TV. He was watching the hunting channel. She frowned at the men in fatigues hiding in the bushes waiting on a deer. "You like to hunt?"

"Country boy. Yeah, I like to hunt. Deer, wild boar-"

"Boar?"

He nodded. "And quail."

"You hunt quail too?"

"Sure did. If I'm with my brothers, I do a little dip, right here," he patted his chin. Kim didn't quite understand.

"Dip? What's dip?"

"Chewing tobacco. Bad habit, but it's my vice back home. Funny, don't seem to have a need for it in New York."

Kim was fascinated. She never met a man like him. She didn't have a problem with white men. She grew up in a melting pot of all kinds of ethnicities. But a white southern boy was quite different. "So what do you do after you kill them?" she asked, looking back to the screen.

"Eat them. Skin them right there. Then cook them over an open fire, Venison, pork, all of it's good eating. Quail is the easiest." He sat up demonstrating on the remote. "You snap their neck here. Then press in your thumb on their breast plate and rip down, skinning them of the feathers."

"Are you serious? You can rip the feathers off birds?"

"Not birds. Quail," he winked.

Kim shook her head. "Wow, doctor, you're supposed to save lives. Hunting animals is..."

"Primitive?" he asked.

"I'm not trying to offend."

"No, I get it. It was part of my world. Growing up the way we did, we farmed, and hunted, but we always ate our kill. I know in the politically correct world today most think it's barbaric. I don't. I think it's kind of unnatural to pick up the meat in a grocery store line."

"You got a point, I guess," she chuckled. He handed her the remote and she accepted it, turning to the Style Channel. "Alright, I can't tell you much about hunting, but I sure can tell you how to accessorize."

Mathew roared with laughter. "Ah...well I rather enjoy a lady who's put together with accessories."

Kim was unsure how to come back after that. She flipped channels trying to find something neutral for them to watch. Eventually, she settled on an old episode of Seinfeld.

"Your husband was a firefighter?"

"What?" she asked looking from him to where he was staring. She looked up at the picture of Dennis on the bookshelf shaking hands with the Mayor. "Yes, he was."

"A serious job. Do you mind me asking how he died?"

Kim lowered the remote. She did mind. She minded a lot. But she invited this man into her house, offered him wine, and gave him access to her remote. Why mind now?

"If you don't want to talk about it I understand."

"It's okay. There was a fire. It was a twenty-four story tall apartment building and Dennis and his men were the first to arrive. They saved a lot of lives that day. I was told that he kept going in even after his captain told him not to. He thought his breathing mask was sufficient. He thought he could-"

She closed her eyes. She hadn't discussed Dennis with anyone outside of the family. Her girlfriends were shut out shortly after his death. In fact, she realized she'd shut everyone out that she could.

"The doctors said he inhaled toxins because he kept taking off his mask to help those he rescued. That may be true. He would do that. But he wasn't the only one sick after that fire. Many of his friends from the same station house were sick too. They had new breathing apparatuses and the investigation led there, but the other problem is Dennis collapsed after the last person he saved when the floor fell in beneath him. He was burned and rescued. It's all complicated. Oh, G.o.d, I can't believe I'm talking about this," she wheezed. "He survived for three days. Then he was gone. Lawyers, they're working through it. I guess." Kim squeezed her eyes shut. "The city won't pay his pension for his sons. The insurance money is tied up in the investigation...and there are bills." She sucked in a deep breath. She felt him move in closer and shot him a look. "I think you should go."

"Okay. Okay, I'll leave, but let me say this first," he said, his hands up. She didn't want to be touched and somehow he knew that. "I know how hard it is. I know the kind of strength you have to call on daily. Seen my mother do it for many years. I also know that you're doing a great job, holding it all together."

"Not really," she muttered, averting her eyes.

"Yes, really. You've lost a lot. Those little boys lost a lot."

She softened, looked back over to him. He lowered his hands and sighed. "Thing is, Kim, it's also okay to feel a little hope. Just a little that it'll get better. Make sense sooner, hurt a little less. Dennis sounds like a remarkable guy."

"He was," she said wiping at her tears. "He was."

Together they sat with the TV now on mute. In the silence between them, she found the safety to relax and reflect. Her eyes went to Dennis who smiled down from a picture off the bookshelf. So many good times, why remember only the pain?

Denny padded out of the hall and into the living room. In his hand was his toy boat. "Mama?"

"What you got there?" Mathew asked.

"Boat," Denny said, handing it to him.

He smiled. "I have a boat. Just like this one."

Denny rubbed his eyes looking for his mother. He pushed past Mathew's knees and went to her arms. "Maybe I should go. He looks tired."

"Oh, well, thanks for coming and hanging out with us."

"You have no idea how much it was my pleasure. I had a good time, Kim. With you too, Denny."

Her son put his face in her neck, his arms holding on to her. "Let me get your food. I put some away for you." She struggled to rise with him and Mathew helped. He followed her to the kitchen where she wrapped dinner for him. She delayed him a minute longer, insisting on adding some garlic bread. He helped by holding Denny while she did that with care. Kim's eyes slipped over to him rubbing her son's back and how soon he fell asleep.

"If it's okay-"

"Sure, just down the hall, put him in my bed," she said.

He walked out, returned soon after. "All set," she said handing him his food. He hesitated a moment, then said goodbye once more before she showed him to the door. Then he was gone. But that feeling wasn't. That feeling of hope.

Chapter Seven.

Fool For You Simone Simone pursed her lips and blew over the steamy brew to cool her tea. She stared down at the herbal bag dissolving in a murky mix of brown and yellow. Kimberly always made the best tea-when upset, or in need of a friendly ear, it always started with tea. A splash of honey and a slice of lemon was her secret specialty. However, without the love of her sister's touch, it never quite tasted the same.

As children, they learned to rely on each other solely for comfort, like most sisters close in age do. Their mom, a bipolar alcoholic, who refused her meds, was constantly losing her job and slipping into depression. Their father, a sanitation worker, constantly moved in and out of their lives and left them both lacking in emotional support. But she and Kim had each other. And they vowed to one day be good mothers, with pinky promises on the roof of their Brooklyn brownstone.

Her gaze slipped from the condensed windowpane to her sleeping husband. She could see the rays of sun spreading over the shadows of his form. Simone drew her feet up to the chair. Her gown shifted up to her hips and her toes wiggled off the edge. The therapist gave them coping exercises to use. She said it offered ways to improve communication and respect each other's feelings. She was trying. She all but accepted his infidelity, gave him everything, and he was here giving in return. So why wasn't she happy? Why d.a.m.n it?

Keith stretched. The covers eased down his chest as he twisted toward her instead of away. In doing so, he revealed the wonderful muscular definition of his chest. Hard angles she once loved to wake-up to pressed against the sheets. Now it felt different. The spark was gone. Desire was gone. He had shared it with another woman and what was left felt different.

Simone lowered her eyes to her mug of tea with a soft sigh. She would have to stop. She made the choice. She decided their marriage was indeed enough. She needed to believe it.

"Morning," he yawned.

He was awake.

"Come back to bed." He motioned to her. "Need you near me."

"Where were you last night?"

Keith's arm dropped like a dead weight to the bed. She made sure he heard the accusation in her voice. She wouldn't back away from the question or from the painful insecurities his arriving late evoked. Not anymore. Respect was mutual, a two-way street. She deserved it. f.u.c.k, she earned it!

"Work."

"Not true. I called work."

"Not the office, Simone. I was out with Andrew Hollingsworth at his private club. It was work, and he kept me out late."

Simone stared at him. She felt so insignificant in that moment. "A call, Keith. I waited all night. All I needed was a call."

He sat up in bed. "Simone, we've been here two, three days? Three days? You knew how hard this would be for me. What I was facing. Do I have to rea.s.sure you every minute for you to trust me again?"

The question hurt. It cut her deep. She looked away. "I guess not."

"I'll call every hour on the hour if it makes you happy. Just cut me some slack!" He huffed from bed and crossed the carpeted floor to the bathroom. She flinched when the door slammed shut. She refused to cry. It wasn't worth it, and he wouldn't appreciate or understand tears. She was failing at this-failing at getting pregnant, failing at being happy, failing at being a good supportive wife. She wondered what it would take to truly make her feel happy and safe in their marriage again. Was it all on her?

The toilet flushed. She heard him beyond the door; washing his hands, firing up his electric toothbrush, and methodically cleaning each tooth, gurgling, splashing water on his face. She saw it all in her head. When he returned, she didn't bother to look up. Instead, she sipped, swallowed and watched the day usher in over a town she didn't know or care to. As always, her thoughts drifted to Kim and the twins.

"We've been invited to join the Bella Sh.o.r.e Country Club," Keith announced, his chest swelling with pride. "We'll be the first blacks in the history of the club. I checked. It's 2013. Can you believe that s.h.i.t?"

"I know. A personal invite came in the mail." She cut her eyes to the dresser where the envelope lay. "Sounds like a real charming place for minorities to fit in," she mumbled.