Chapter Sixteen

Allison stood on the front porch of her parents' house, staring at the button for the doorbell, petrified. Eventually she mustered enough courage to press that button.

Allison heard a distant chime from deep inside the old, familiar house. She ground her teeth. Footsteps approached the front door. An eyeball peered at her through the peephole.

Allison heard someone unlatch the chain. The door swung open with a metallic creak and there was her mother, standing in the doorway, staring at her.

"Can I help you?"

Allison smiled—a big, bright smile. "Hi, Mom!"

Mrs. Reynolds took an involuntary step backward. "Allison?"

Allison nodded.

Mrs. Reynolds put a hand on her chest, covering her heart. "Is it really you?"

"Mm-hm."

Mrs. Reynolds threw her arms around Allison and wept. "I've been so worried about you."

A pang of guilt transfixed Allison. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Reynolds released Allison and composed herself. "No, honey, I'm the one that's sorry. I know your father and I neglected you—it was inexcusable. We were both alcoholics, and we—"

Allison squirmed. "You don't have to explain."

"Please let me finish." Mrs. Reynolds sighed. "Your father and I were so young when we had you. I had to drop out of college. It really set my career back, not having a degree, and, I don't know—maybe, subconsciously, I blamed you for that. But I was wrong, because none of it was your fault." She paused and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Well, anyway, I've been clean and sober now for six years. No more booze, and no pills—except for the ones prescribed by my doctor."

Allison smiled. "I'm so glad." She scrutinized her mother. "You've lost weight. You look good."

Mrs. Reynolds blushed. "What I've lost in weight, I've gained in gray hairs and wrinkles." She fanned herself with her hand. "It's so warm out here!"

"Can I come in?"

Mrs. Reynolds opened the door all the way and stood aside. Allison stepped inside and looked around, blinking as her eyes adjusted from bright sunshine to the gloomy interior of the house. The carpet in the living room was different, and there were no ashtrays, but otherwise it was pretty much the same as she remembered it. She felt like she was like going back in time. Goosebumps erupted on her bare arms.

"Where's Dad?"

Mrs. Reynolds pursed her lips. "Your father and I got divorced."

"Oh." Allison felt thrown off balance. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's all right. Here, have a seat."

They sat down on the sofa, which was lined with clear plastic to prevent stains.

Allison cleared her throat. "What happened?"

"Well, I stopped drinking and taking pills, but your father wasn't ready to change. If I'd stayed with him, I would've ended up backsliding and falling back into the same old bad habits. So, we got divorced." Mrs. Reynolds waved. "I got the house, as you can see. I let him keep his precious Cadillac. Every three years, he'd trade in his Cadillac for a new one. You know, I think he cared more about those stupid cars of his than he ever did about you or me." She frowned. "I shouldn't say things like that. After all, he's still your father."

"Where is he?"

Mrs. Reynolds hung her head. "He lives in Cleveland with his new bride."

Allison felt cold inside. Cleveland!

"I can give you his phone number."

"Okay."

Mrs. Reynolds jotted down a long-distance phone number and handed the slip of paper to Allison. "I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

"You really think so?" Allison looked earnestly into her mother's hazel eyes.

"Absolutely. We both missed you." Mrs. Reynolds knitted her eyebrows when she noticed Allison was starting to cry. "What's wrong, dear?"

Allison sniffled. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

Mrs. Reynolds squeezed Allison's shoulder. "It's not your fault, sweetie. Your father and I are co-dependent alcoholics and drug addicts. We had to get away from each other for our own sake. It had nothing to do with you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Allison hugged her mother and sobbed against her chest.

xxx

They chatted for a while, catching up on old times, gossiping about relatives and neighbors. When Mrs. Reynolds mentioned she attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings once a week, Allison told her about Mrs. Bender.

"She's a real nice lady," Allison said. "I've been meaning to talk to her about going to AA."

"You mean, like an intervention?"

"Kind of. If she agrees to go, is it okay if I introduce you to her? She needs someone her own age to talk to. You know what I mean, right?"

"I think so." Mrs. Reynolds nodded. "All right."

"Thanks, Mom." Allison kissed her mother's cheek.

Mrs. Reynolds felt a warm, glowing sensation. Her little girl had finally come home. She was so glad ... and so relieved. "You know, I probably never told you this enough, but I love you."

Allison gulped. "I love you too."

Mrs. Reynolds smiled. "You'll always be my little girl." She choked up. "Excuse me."

Mrs. Reynolds got up to turn on the air-conditioner. Allison groped inside her sling bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Is it okay if I smoke?"

"I quit smoking when I gave up all my other bad habits. You'll have to go outside."

"Okay, no problem."

"I'll have a nice glass of cold water waiting for you when you come back."

xxx

Allison stepped outside and shut the door behind her. She never thought she would miss this place, but she had. For better or worse, this was where she grew up. That made this place special—special to her, anyway.

Allison lit a cigarette. She felt strange, but in a good way. She was all tingly, and her stomach was queasy, but she was happy to see her mother again. It felt good to be home.

Guess I'll have to call Dad one of these days.

Allison hoped her father would be glad to hear from her. If not, at least she still had her mother—and the Breakfast Club, of course, including Mrs. Bender.

It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny. Spring had always been her favorite season. It was a time of renewal and regeneration. She felt reborn, like a wide-eyed infant entranced by the limitless wonders of a vast, incomprehensible world.

Allison smelled the honeysuckle that was starting to bloom. She heard the whine of bees buzzing around it, spreading the pollen that made the plants grow. Next door, at the Kimmels' house, a strapping young man was trimming the hedges. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't connect a name to that face.

It was a handsome face, lean and rugged, tanned by years spent working outdoors. The young man stopped, wiped his forehead on a towel, and removed his shirt. His body was taut and muscular, glistening with sweat, with some kind of tattoo on the right bicep.

Allison blushed. She felt like a voyeur watching him, but she couldn't look away. The primal yearning of her repressed sexuality overwhelmed her.

Allison decided to take a chance, for once. She treaded slowly but steadily to the Kimmels' yard, her eyes fixated on the virile young man.

I wonder what kind of tattoo he has.

He bent down to pick up the hedge clippers, then stopped when he saw Allison approaching. He stood up straight, staring at her. He raised a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Allison?" he said. "Allison Reynolds?"

She nodded. "You remembered me."

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

Allison racked her memory. "Bobby? Little Bobby Kimmel?"

Bobby smiled. "It's been a lot of years."

"No shit. How have you been?"

"Great. I just stopped by to mow my mom's yard."

"That's nice. How is she?"

"Pretty good. I usually come by on the weekends and help her with stuff that needs to be done around the house."

Allison brushed a sheaf of hair behind her ear and smiled. "So look at you. Wow! All grown up." She admired Bobby's physique. "You look like you work out."

Bobby shoved his hands in the back pockets of his faded blue jeans. "When I was in the military, I got in the habit of staying in shape." He grinned. "You look great! No kidding."

"Thank you. So what've you been up to since high school?"

"Well, after I graduated, I joined the Navy."

"Are you still a sailor?"

Bobby shook his head. "I've been out for a couple years."

"You've got a military haircut."

Bobby brushed a hand over his crewcut blond hair. "After six years in the Navy, I got used to wearing it this way. I like it. It's low-maintenance."

Allison laughed. "I remember when you used to have hair down to your waist. You were a real rock-and-roller back then."

"Oh, I know. I show my friends pictures from back then and they can't believe it's me." Bobby noticed Allison was smoking, so he lit a cigarette of his own. "You know, I had a big-time crush on you when we were kids."

Allison studied Bobby. He had piercing blue eyes—just like Andy's. Eyes that gazed right into her soul. "How come you never told me?" Allison pouted. She knew that pouting act drove men crazy.

Bobby blushed. "Oh, I don't know. I was just ... shy, that's all. You were a year older than me, and you looked like you didn't want anybody to bother you, so I left you alone. Stupid, huh?"

Allison rolled her eyes. "Why are the good ones always so shy? A lot of guys are total jerks, and believe me, they aren't shy."

Bobby was tall, well over six feet tall. He stooped so his face was closer to Allison's level. "Am I one of the good ones?"

Allison gave him a cool look of appraisal. "I don't know. I'll have to get to know you better."

"How?"

Allison clasped her hands behind her back. "Well, you could start by giving me a call sometime."

"Maybe we could go out to dinner, or something."

"Sounds good to me. Oh!" Allison slapped the back of her hand against Bobby's chest. "What kind of tattoo is that on your arm?"

Bobby flexed his right arm so she could see. It was a U.S. Navy tattoo, with an eagle and an anchor and a shield bearing the colors of the American flag. Beneath it was a bee wearing a sailor's hat, holding an adjustable wrench, a hammer, and a machine gun. A banner circled around it read: "Seabees. We build, we fight. Can do!"

Allison surveyed the tattoo, mentally critiquing it. "It's pretty."

Bobby frowned. "It's not supposed to look pretty, it's supposed to look tough!"

Allison chuckled. "Sorry, tough guy. I didn't mean to tarnish your macho image."

"Well, you can make it up to me by giving me your phone number."

Allison batted her eyelashes. "Maybe I will."

Bobby flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. "You know, the only time I was on a ship was when we deployed to Kuwait. Then, when we got there, we slept on the desert sand for the first couple of weeks. We were still expecting the enemy to attack us, so we had to stand watch every night and guard the camp. I didn't get much sleep. It was a trip."

Allison felt her heart bleed. "Was it bad?"

Bobby shook his head. "By the time they sent in us ground-pounders, the war was pretty much over. The zoomies already bombed Iraq back to the Stone Age. All we did was stand around guarding a bunch of raggedy-ass Iraqi prisoners. They were just glad we fed them. They were starving from the blockade."

"So you never got in any gun battles or anything?"

"Nah. I extended my tour of duty because we were going to war, but when we finally got over there, we just sat around with our thumbs up our asses most of the time. It was a real drag. I never thought a war could be so boring."

"Were you scared?"

Bobby shrugged. "I mean, I thought we were in a real shooting war at first. But when you're in the military, that's the way it is." He smiled. "I'd do it all over again. I got to do a lot of fun stuff, met some cool people, plus I got to shoot some really kick-ass guns. It was a blast."

Allison smirked. "Too bad they didn't turn you loose on Saddam Hussein. You look like a real action hero, like Dolph Lundgren, or something."

Bobby tilted his head, lost in thought. "I guess I'm lucky. At least I don't have nightmares about my buddies getting killed, or people getting blown to bits all around me. I can live without that."

Allison winced. "That's awful."

"My mom said my dad used to wake up scared shitless in the middle of the night, thinking he was back in the jungle. She said he came back a different person after the war. It really fucked with his head."

Allison's eyes said so much more than words ever could.

Bobby yawned and stretched his long, sinewy arms. "Anyway, that's all in the past."

"How's your dad?"

"He died a few years ago when I was stationed overseas. They granted me emergency leave. I flew home in my dress blues. They sent an Army color guard, since he was a war veteran. They folded up an American flag and gave it to my mom—you know, all that toy-soldier stuff."

"I'm so sorry."

Bobby hunched his broad shoulders. "Nobody lives forever."

"So what do you do these days?"

"I'm a crane operator in the city."

"Do you like your job?"

Bobby scratched his head. "It's okay, but it's the same old thing I used to do in the Navy. The pay's good, but it's kind of boring. I've been thinking about trying something else."

"Like what?" Allison twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She was trying every trick she knew, every subtle nuance she had picked up from Claire. She rather liked this grown-up version of Bobby Kimmel, the erstwhile little boy who had grown up next door to her.

Bobby grinned. "I don't know! I can't decide on a major."

"Are you in college?"

"Well, I've been going to Shermer Community College three nights a week, just taking some basic courses."

"I went there. It's a great way to save money."

"Actually, Uncle Sam's paying my college tab. I get the GI Bill since I was in the Navy, so that pays for my education. Your tax dollars at work."

"I'm glad the government's doing something good with the money they take from me."

"How's your folks?"

"They got divorced a few years ago."

"Aw, that sucks."

"It's okay, it was for the best. My mom still lives here."

"So you're just visiting?"

"Uh-huh. I haven't been by to see her in a while, so, here I am." Allison frowned. "I need to call my dad. It's been a while since I talked to him."

"So, are you gonna give me your phone number, or what? Don't make me get rough. I know hand-to-hand combat."

Allison elbowed Bobby in the ribs. "God! You really come on strong, don't you."

Bobby winked. "Didn't your mother ever warn you about flirting with sailors?"

Allison giggled. "You're too much, you know that?"

Bobby heard the sound of a lawnmower in the distance, further down the block. He smelled freshly-cut grass. "I love this time of year."

"Me, too." Allison jotted her home phone number on a scrap of paper from her sling bag and handed it to Bobby. "I'd better get going. My mom's waiting on me, and you've got a yard to mow, mister!"

Bobby tucked the scrap of paper inside his wallet. "It was good seeing you again."

"Same here. Talk to you later—you big stud."

Bobby grinned, then turned his back and bent to pick up the hedge clippers. Allison strolled next door, back to her mother's house. Her head was spinning.

Oh my god. Did I really just say that? No fucking way!

Allison felt dizzy and giddy, like she was on Ecstasy. Her body was twitchy, her mind keen and alert. It was only ten o'clock in the morning and already so much had happened. It was funny how people from the past came back to you sometimes. Life was so unpredictable.

Allison's senses seemed heightened. The sunlight dazzled her eyes. The chirping of birds and locusts was deafening. The gentle breeze chilled her skin. The scent of honeysuckle and wildflowers intoxicated her. Her mouth tasted like stale coffee and cigarettes.

Allison felt like she was about to have an anxiety attack, but she couldn't stop smiling. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to take it easy. No expectations, just go with the flow. Don't push too hard. The same kind of advice Claire would have given her.

Claire. She said something wonderful might happen today.

Wait till she hears the news!

Allison stopped to smoke another cigarette before she went back inside to see her mother. She needed to calm down.

It was a storybook day, without any clouds. The sky was such a vibrant blue—just like Bobby's eyes. Allison felt vital; her nerves were honed to a fine edge. She was anxious but happy. She felt like there was hope for her yet. Hope that a reformed basket case could find love, happiness, and peace of mind. Hope that she would meet that elusive soulmate she had been searching for all of her life. Hope that she might bear children of her own someday. Hope that she would finally know how it truly felt to be accepted and cherished for who she was.

Allison felt something else she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in years, she felt alive.

And it felt wonderful!

She couldn't wait to call Claire and tell her all about it.

The End