Borders

I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. The early morning sun fell lazily into the room. My eyes met the fade of his familiar smile as he quickly reversed his intentions, closing the bedroom door between us. The sound of his step whispered softly down the hall as I sat motionless in the bed. Sleep still silenced my voice but certainly not the pounding of my heart.

He stirred beside me, reaching to pull me closer. I quickly offered a reassuring touch before I slipped out of bed and into the adjoining master bath. The wave of nausea began to calm itself. I held steadfast to the cool porcelain bowl giving time enough for it to settle. After all, in time all things settle, or at least that’s what my mom had always said.

When my husband, Andy, had first suggested that we take in a boarder to help meet expenses, I admit, I accepted the idea easily. Economics aside, the two of us sharing space in this huge, old house had pretty much stopped making sense. This, at least, would add some purpose.

In the beginning I had imagined so many things, just simple things that fill the day; the bustle of morning activity, a new voice around the dinner table, late evening conversations on the porch. I imagined life in this old house, maybe even a little laughter. I never imagined falling in love.

It was a crisp September Tuesday when I placed the ad with the New Castle Journal. Andy had scrawled out the two-line offer of room and board on the back of an old bank statement with a request for me to “run in this week’s Journal”. Friday brought the first inquiry, with Saturday came two more. This effort produced two “rejects'' and one mutual “no thanks”. Hoping that the three strikes rule wouldn’t apply we waited for the next call. It was on the following Wednesday afternoon that we arrived home to find him sitting comfortably on our front porch, newspaper in hand.

Jesse slid onto the worn wooden bench of the breakfast nook with conversation flowing as easy as a hot cuppa jo. His words seemed to eat up the room, leaving you breathless to keep up. The familiar banter gave the impression of close friends when in reality it had been at least ten years since either Andy or I had seen or even heard from Jesse. But, some things never changed and seemingly that included Jesse.

His dark hair still swept past his shoulders ever so slightly, leading you down to tanned and muscular arms. Jesse had never been exceptionally athletic, but his body was evidence that he kept fit. He held the appearance of someone who knows the outdoors. He’d mostly worked at construction or other labor jobs when last we knew him. I was guessing it was still the case. Of course any inquiry as to where or how he’d been passing time these last ten years only brought the reply

“ Oh, here and there, a lil this and that and a whole lotta nothing!”. But it was Jesse’s eyes that told you that that was far from the truth. Wild and hungry, undoubtedly just how he lived his life as well.

Sitting here now with them both, laughing and reminiscing, it was almost like stepping back in time, a time when life still felt hopeful. And for just a moment something stirred in me and for an instance I remembered what it’s like to feel alive.

Now without hesitation or formality Andy gave Jesse the nickel tour of our place. I don’t recall any discussion of Jesse staying on, I guess we all just assumed that was the plan.

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“Rachael, where the hell is my Pink Floyd T-shirt?” Andy’s voice echoed down the hall over the slamming dresser drawer.

“It’s in the laundry basket by the hall banister; I didn’t get a chance to put that load away, yesterday…sorry” I yelled up the stairs.

Why are those old rock t-shirts so important to him, I thought to myself. A lot had certainly changed with us in the near decade that we had been married, but classic rock and Levi’s remained constant. He was wearing a Tull t-shirt the night we met. His hair was still long then, wavy too. I remember thinking how pissed off my parents would be if they knew their sixteen year old daughter was at a party with a bunch...but what my parents would have slandered as a gang... of long haired rockers. Luckily they thought I was at a sleepover for Amber Vacanti’s birthday. Which if they even remotely knew anything about me would have smelled the suspicion on me immediately.

I, of course, thought the party was amazing, just how I felt about Andy that night.

I waited at the bottom of the stairs until I heard the hard plastic of the laundry basket brush against the wooden banister. Assuming the ensuing silence meant Andy had found what he was looking for, I moved toward the kitchen. I hadn’t expected a thank you, but I guess I still thought about it for a moment. Those kinds of niceties had stopped some time ago between us.

The rattle of metal rang out as I continued on my way to the kitchen.

“That darn cat is in the cupboard again!” I spat under my breath

Expecting to find our oversized Persian, Butterscotch, making himself at home next to my pans, I entered the room ready to give that old cat a scolding, but it wasn’t

Scotch. There was Jesse standing in front of my O’keefe & Merritt stove, bare chested with a broad grin across his face, spatula in hand, flipping a pancake.

“ Hey, beautiful! You don’t mind me cookin’ up some trouble in your kitchen, do ya? “

“What, oh, no…ah no, make yourself at home.” Good god, you‘d think I never saw a man without his shirt on before, what’s the matter with me? I’ve been keeping myself locked up in this house for too darn long, that’s what! I mean, for Pete’s sake Rachel, you’ve known Jesse since high school.

“Hey, man! Working for your keep already? “Andy’s voice trailed into the kitchen as he eyeballed Jesse from the hall making breakfast.

“Need an apron? I’m sure Rae can loan you one!” A small chuckle escaped Andy’s lips.

“Funny man you’re married to Rae, is he always this entertaining in the morning or does he usually save the good stuff for the Gong Show?”

And the banter begins… What is it about men and their childhood friends that make them unable to progress past the mental age of twelve when in a room together? …giving me the necessary interruption to make a break for the breakfast nook, grabbing my mug of coffee on the way.

“A short stack for the lovely lady and one tall stack for Chuck Barris.” Jesse sent a playful wink my way as he slid the two plates gently across the table to each of us.

“Thanks, but I’ll be on my way in a minute. All I need is my coffee. I don’t do the breakfast thing.” Andy gestured for Jesse to take the plate. Which he did as he enthusiastically reached for the maple syrup.

There it was in a nutshell, Andy with his black coffee and Jesse diving into his tall stack. Jesse had always been like a stack of pancakes. Warm, inviting, offering the sweet parts of life, just plain indulgent, but even as you went for your fork you knew too much of a good thing could turn bad. When did Andy become a cup of coffee though? Strong, but slightly bitter, practical, no cream or sugar just a jolt to carry you over to something more substantial. When did that happen?

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The autumn days drifted into winter weeks. No snow just yet, but the northeastern air held a bite. Jesse had landed work with a local construction company. He’d heard back in September about the explosion of new construction taking place in neighboring Bear, Delaware. Sprawling housing developments and contemporary shopping centers were appearing rapidly up and down route 40. Super K-Mart, Shoprite Grocery, and Happy Harry Drug Stores dotted the once fertile farmland replacing the crops of corn and grazing cattle. Hmmm,Progress. The winter months slowed construction, but there was enough interior work to keep Jesse a float till spring. His work hours were sporadic though and I’d often find him wandering around the house looking for ways to fill his time.

This was one of those afternoons. As I made my way onto the front porch after a quick trip from the Cellar Café, I caught a glimpse of Jesse’s blue flannel work shirt through the beveled glass of the living room window. As I reached for the front lock, I hesitated to smooth my hair from under my favorite, cherry, silk scarf. For a split second I wondered why.

The wood door sprang forward with help from a gust of winter wind, so I quickly closed it behind me to keep the cold from the warm foyer. Butterscotch jumped from the stair banister and scampered off toward the kitchen at the sudden sound of the door closing. Shaking the cold off, I hung my coat and scarf in the closet and headed across the foyer.

“Is that you, Rae?” Jesse’s query met me as I entered the room to find him bent over the coffee table flipping through a photo album.

“Yeah, it’s just me. Where did you get that?” pointing at the album that I immediately recognized from my junior year in high school.

“Holy shit, look at how young we were! Jesus, Rae you’ve barely changed.” Jesse’s grin widened as he looked from the photo to me and back again. “How did I let you out of my sight?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you were preoccupied…you know…with Amber va va voom Vacanti, I cupped my breast to indicate where the nickname had come from, or Jennifer Williams that snotty rah rah, or how about Dani Parker? Oh, or …”

“Ok, smart ass so I had a few dates in high school. And by the way, I’m pretty sure it was all that love at first sight crap…

‘oh, Andy!” Jesse clutched at his heart, swaying his body back and forth in imitation of a typical love struck teen. Giggles escaped my lips as I fell softly onto the couch grabbing the photo album from Jesse on my way down.

“Knock it off.” I was never that bad. Jesse plopped next to me regaining control over the album. We spent the better half of the afternoon looking through those pictures. Remembering, laughing, feeling, yes, that’s something I didn’t do regularly anymore, feel. It was good though. It was like that first cup of coffee in the morning. Suddenly I was flushed, and warm, and my heart was moving. Jesse was pointing at a picture of Andy and I on a swing set together in Battery Park. Jesse’s arm draped casually around my shoulder at the back of the couch, recalling as he pointed at the photo, how Andy and I fell shortly after the shot was snapped. It seemed like a lifetime ago. God, where had it all gone, time that is, how had we arrived here, at this moment?

Caught in memory I didn’t hear Andy enter the room. Jesse’s sudden movement drew my attention upward; Andy was shuffling through mail with barely a nod toward Jesse and me. Yet, I sensed a brief hesitancy when he did eventually glance our way. Jesse had moved from the couch, his warmth evaporated quickly into the empty space next to me.

“Hey, let’s all head down to Portafino’s for some crab cakes and brew?” Jesse broke through the temporary silence filtering the room.

Andy looked up from his pile of envelopes to me and then back down, “ Ah, you two go ahead. Really not that hungry, there was a big faculty lunch today, I’m still pretty full. “

I hadn’t expected Andy to accept the invitation. I couldn’t even remember the last time we shared a dinner together with friends, unless you count last September when I helped him set up his classroom for the school year and the math teacher and her son had brought soda’s and sandwiches to share in the empty cafeteria. But, that’s not really true. I could remember a dinner before that, no matter how hard I worked to forget, any ordinary moment could push it to the surface, just like now.

“That sounds good. Can we bring you back anything for later?” I brushed off the lingering thoughts and jumped off the couch toward the foyer for my coat. Jesse followed my lead and we were out the door with resolve, each for our own reasons.

We returned home from Portafino’s later than I had expected. I guess after my third glass of red wine and Jesse’s steady stream of Coors we had both managed to lose track of the time and probably a bit of reality as well. I suppose that’s why I gave credit to the spirits when Jesse reached over the table and placed his hand over mine. The light hearted dinner conversation added to the easy feelings of the relaxed exchange. It had been quite some time since I felt this relaxed with anyone, or really spent any length of time socializing for that matter. Jesse had always had that ability though, even in high school. He knew how to make you feel as if you were the only person in the room, hence the long list of William Penn High conquest. I was surprised by how nice it felt; maybe it was just the wine. Andy spent most of his evenings in the den grading his students’ English papers leaving me to my own devices. I usually ended up falling asleep in bed under a book that I really had no interest in to begin with, waking mid-night to the hum of the television drifting down the hall from the den. His absence from our bed was gradual, an excuse of added papers to grade or waiting up for impending sports scores from the late news eventually fell on my deaf ears and I grew accustomed to the arrangement though acceptance was far from my heart.

The stroll home from the restaurant through the icy December air washed some of the evening’s glow away as Jesse and I stumbled up the front steps onto the porch and into the dark house. In the closeness of the foyer, I suddenly became aware of Jesse’s breath on my cheek. I pushed ahead of him in the darkness and made my way up to my bedroom, only turning to say goodnight at the top of the stairway. Jesse stood lingering in the entryway, the moonlight casting his silhouette against the entry hall. I could sense he was looking up at me and I briefly hesitated, contemplating the silent exchange.

“Good night, Rae. Sweet dreams.”, Jesse’s voice floated up in the darkness. Suddenly flushed, I rushed toward the bedroom passing the hum of the den and into the coolness of the empty bedroom. I drifted off to sleep with the ease of the red wine, my dreams filled with uncertainty.

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The remaining winter months that followed were filled with the routine of the holidays and the passing of another year. Neither was particularly memorable, or no more so than any recent years past, but having Jesse in the house made the time move more quickly. And with that, something in me had shifted. I no longer lingered in bed in the mornings, I was finding that I had a reason to get up in the morning, I treated myself to a manicure and I even baked my once family famous chocolate oatmeal cookies the other day. Andy commented that the house smelled like Christmas and for a few brief moments a flash of normalcy passed between us. I wondered how it might have been if things had gone differently. Then Andy gathered up his share of cookies and headed to the den to grade papers.

As the saying predicts, March was in like a lion and out like a lamb this year. The early thaw brought with it the first colors of spring. The rich, deep pink of the peach blossoms began to fill the landscape, while a bevy of wildflowers pushed forth on the banks of the Delaware River weaving a carpet of purple aster and yellow archangel. Soon more would follow with the green of the oaks and maples awakening, the sky dotted with the return of the many feathered friends of the bird sanctuary just beyond the park, a time of renewal.

It was too early for roses just yet though. I would stop by the flower shop and pick some up on my way. Secret Garden usually had hothouse grown roses in the store. I’m sure Andy was aware of the date. He’d left the house long before his normal departure time. Of course, he had stopped going along with me two years ago. The first three years he had dutifully accompanied me, but it had become too much to ask of him. It just seemed to add to the distance between us. I simply stopped asking him to go. I could not bring myself to stop the yearly visits.

The sun was soft this morning as I made my way down to the Secret Garden and back toward the church. Our Lady of Peace Garden is the newest part of the cemetery, added to the 200 year old church grounds roughly a decade ago. A glistening, white statue of the Blessed Mother is the focal point of the yard. I had found great comfort in knowing Mary, a mother, would be here with her, to watch over her always.

Winding with the brick path I counted 5 down 3 over, next to the lilac bushes. I could see from the path that the lilac was budding, and soon the gentle fragrance would cover the garden for a brief while before the blossoms faded away.

I knelt down to lay the bundle of delicate, white roses across the dewy grass, reading the marker in front of me as if I didn’t know what to expect.

Amanda “Mandi” Rose Walker, March 31, 1979 – June 08, 1981, precious daughter and keeper of our hearts, rest peacefully. The tears flowed with ease in the solitude of the garden. It was only within the borders of the real world that I felt it necessary to keep my grief private. People didn’t know what to say after it first happened, then life went on and the world just assumed that Andy and I did too. It became awkward to deal with friends and slowly they left us to ourselves. Only we didn’t know how to be ourselves and soon life became what it is.

I reached to take two single roses from the bundle on Mandi’s grave to place on the adjoining double plot, John P. Walker July 10, 1940 – June 08, 1981 and Anne R. Walker April 12, 1941 – June 08, 1981 loving parents and grandparents, rest dearly in heaven.

Andy’s folks had wanted to give us a night out and the added bonus of babysitting their little Rose, as they called her, made it all the better. The June evenings were already warm and humid, the smell of night jasmine hung heavy in the air when we left to join friends for a summer supper at the Green Frog Pub. I can still see them so clearly, Anne and John on the porch swing, Mandi hopping around the yard chasing lightning bugs. We never looked back, never thought…

The confusion upon returning to the house later that night still haunts me, and I’m sure Andy as well. Sheriff Baker’s car was parked outside and he appeared to be at Anderson's front door, the neighbor’s house. Curious, but not alarmed we approached the front steps. Mr. Anderson waved his hand toward us and Sheriff Baker nodded what looked like a thank you before he headed down the drive. My heart didn’t start to race until he motioned for us. The feeling was like being underwater, darkness fell over me and my body felt weightless. I wish I could say I knew what was happening to Andy, but I was blinded by the sheer intensity of the pain. It would be weeks before I fully understood what had happened.

Dairy Palace wasn’t far; the chocolate dipped cones were Mandi’s favorite. It wasn’t unusual for her grandparents to take her there for a before bedtime treat. Sheriff Baker said most likely they never knew what happened, the tractor trailer crossed over into their lane in a matter of seconds, the truck driver had had a heart attack.

Jesse lifted me from the grass into the comfort of his arms. My face fell into his chest letting go of the grief that I had held hidden for so long. My trembling body accepted the warmth of his embrace. I had nothing left to hold the wall up. There in the garden, with Mary watching over us, I begged the Blessed Mother and Her Son for the grace to go on, the strength to love again.

In the days that followed, Jesse kept close. Like two children with a secret, the subtle glances, the hidden signals, whispered exchanges, we had shared something.

“ Are you all right, Rae? I’ve known people who’ve been through it, it changes them at the core, they go places and sometimes they don’t come back.” Jesse expressed his concern for me since the days in the garden.

It’s true I had been keeping a low profile since then, but not because of grief, instead I was figuring out how to live with a little less grief, the grief I had left in the garden that day.

The following week the first delivery of Roses arrived, the card read

“Once it seemed there would always be

a time for everything.

Ages passed I knew at last

my life had never been.

I'd been missing what time could bring….

Meet me at Battery Park behind the Terry House at 3pm”

I was filled with trepidation, like a schoolgirl skipping class for the first time. Would anyone see us? If they did, would they wonder? What is he doing? I wanted to go; it was where I wanted to be. I wanted to find my way into his arms again. Outside of Mandi it was all I ever gave any real thought to. The longing was burning inside me. I wanted to find a way past the guilt and out of our solitude.

The April breeze was still cool, but it carried a hint of warmer days to come. I rounded the corner onto Delaware Street and headed for the grassy yard behind the federal style building that was now a bed & breakfast. The elegant double porches of the house looked out over the park. He was leaning against the weather-worn, wood fence that separated the two property lines; he hadn’t had a hair cut for a while; his Cream shirt was smooth against his wide chest. He was fidgeting with a blade of grass. I took that to mean he was equally nervous. He looked up just then and saw me coming down the path, his expression changed from one of concern to relief. Meeting me halfway he grabbed me by the waist pulling me forward into his arms once again. He leaned in and his lips pressed against mine, and like a flood gate all the emotion we’d held in came rushing out in that first kiss.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and talking some more. Suddenly we were free to speak everything that we had felt. The words tumbled into the air and when evening fell and we grew tired of talking we held each other tight. And for the first time in six years I felt truly awake.

Each week the delivery of roses arrived along with a handwritten note with a meeting place and time.

“You're the only woman.

Show me what love can be.

You're the only woman

that understands a man like me.”

Meet me at the Cellar at 12pm

“I was blind and I couldn't see that was right in front of me

You could tell that I lived in a shadow

Locked away in my darkness and pain

And my heart was shut down and in prison

You were sent here to free it again”

Meet me at Green Frog at 4pm

“Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better”

Meet me outside Amstel House at 7pm

Each encounter brought us closer together, the level of intimacy rising with each tryst. I believed my prayer in the garden to the Blessed Mother was being answered; my heart was beginning to love again.

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The spring fell into summer and June was upon us. The months prior made the summer seem a little less solemn this year. Physically, I hadn’t been feeling up to par for several weeks, but emotionally I felt I could face the 8th day of the month as long as we were together. We decided to meet at home early in the day and drive out to Buck’s County for lunch. He had made reservations at Indian Rock Inn off route 32. Neither of us had ever dined there before, it's how we wanted it, a fresh start, new memories. Mandi would always be in my heart and memories, but it was time to move forward and let life write a new story. The rustic riverside setting was warm and welcoming. We stuffed ourselves with Mediterranean delicacies, sweet cocktails, and the inn’s specialty dessert, Crème Brule. I only cried a bit and he dried my tears with hope.

We ran round the circle of emotions as we shared our meal then headed out for a long drive along the river. The tranquility of the scenic Pennsylvania backroads was the perfect complement to the day. We came across a roadside antique shop nestled by the riverfront. The quaint two story building was like entering another time. The air held the smell of age, the floors and walls meant to catch an artful eye. Decorated with colorful antique quilts and primitive folk art paintings. The treasure box of old collectables was neatly crowded atop bookcases and wooden table tops throughout the shop. An old orange cat popped out from under a woven basket on the red pine floor. He reminded me of Butterscotch as he scampered off into the day. On a curio just above the basket the sun beamed a reflection of dancing pink diamonds into the musty air. It was a rose pink vase, depression era glass I believed. The woman at the cash box confirmed that yes, it was depression era glass and inquired if I would like to purchase it.

“It would be lovely for fresh roses”, she said while writing up the sale ticket. “

Yes, it would be, wouldn’t it now” I agreed. Admiring my new found treasure

We ended up back at home in the late evening, exhausted and yet exhilarated. The house was empty when we arrived. We found ourselves falling into bed and enjoying the reality of our new love. The borders that had held us back from one another were no longer in place. All the heartache life had heaped upon us was melting away in the heat of our desire. We had moved on and without guilt we loved one another.

I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. The early morning sun fell lazily into the room. My eyes met the fade of his familiar smile as he quickly reversed his intentions, closing the bedroom door between us. The sound of his step whispered softly down the hall as I sat motionless in the bed. Sleep still silenced my voice but certainly not the pounding of my heart.

Andy stirred beside me, reaching to pull me closer. I quickly offered a reassuring touch before I slipped out of bed and into the adjoining master bath; the wave of nausea began to calm itself. I held steadfast to the cool porcelain bowl giving time enough for it to settle.

“Morning sickness, huh?”, Andy was hovering in the doorway of the bathroom.

I turned slightly to look at him; his face was filled with light, a grin making its way across his cheeks. He was holding the stick with the pink plus sign up to the light. I had taken the home pregnancy test yesterday morning before Andy and I met to leave for Indian Rock. I had ignored my symptoms for over a month now, but my body was telling me what was happening. I had planned to tell Andy, but thought it might be better to wait until after “the day”. We had just rediscovered ourselves over these last months and I was unsure of how he might feel about this new life. His expression made it clear, I shouldn’t have worried.

“Yeah, it will pass, all things settle sooner or later”

I stood to rinse my mouth and through the small window of the bath I caught a glimpse of Jesse walking across the front lawn toward the highway, his duffle bag over his back. I had heard the front door open and close shortly after jumping out of bed. I knew by his hungry eyes that he had come to ask me a question that morning, but the answer greeted him before he could ask. I so appreciated his kindness toward me and I hoped he knew that he would always hold a special place in my heart. I waved good-bye to Jesse through the window even though his back was to me and silently thanked him for that March day in the garden. He helped me cross the border from darkness to light. And more than that, if Andy hadn’t seen us there together he may never have realized what he was losing or taken the steps to gain it back. Andy had arrived at the garden, thinking I would already be gone, to share his grief with his daughter alone, the way he believed a man should, only to find another man comforting his wife. He told me during our first meeting in Battery Park that seeing Jesse give me what he could not was the painful catalyst that threw him into recovery.

“There was no way I was going to lose you, Rachael. Not after losing Mandi and my parents” he had confessed to me. “It was borderline touch and go there for me, I thought to myself, do something man before she leaves you or just get up on that damn Memorial Bridge and jump”

I understood why he felt this way, I understood how he could feel this way, because it was a pain that we shared and would share forever.

I believe now that in this world there will always be bits of darkness, but by the Grace of God, the darkness will border the light. You have to be the one to cross over the border.

“Come back to bed, woman.” Andy playfully requested

I ran the brush through my morning hair and headed back to bed with my husband. I stopped at the far dresser first to rearrange the roses that had been delivered yesterday. The pink vase looked soft, and sweet against the peril white roses. The card read

“And I never want to lose your inspiration

Time for a cool change

I know that it's time for a cool change

Now that my life is so pre-arranged

I know that it's time for a cool change”

Meet me at home.

I laid the handwritten card next to the others, each quote meticulously chosen by Andy from his favorite rock songs, and crawled into the bed next to my husband to dream of possibilities.

The days ran forward with the usual eastern, summer heat followed by the relief of the cool autumn months. Andy and I slowly began to rebuild our life. Friends began to reappear and soon time no longer was our enemy. My belly grew fatter with each passing month. The life inside me made the life outside worth living again.

Every once in a while something ordinary in the day would make me think of Jesse, a passing construction truck, a pretty girl on the street, or a tall stack of pancakes. I’d smile to myself and wonder where life had taken him.

January came barreling in on the tail end of a Nor’easter. It seemed like the snow would never stop. We managed to make our way to St Francis Hospital with the help of Sheriff Baker, leaving us to ring in the New Year with the arrival of Mary Grace Walker. <3 KC <3

Rock Lyric Credits - in order

A Time for Everything - Jethro Toll

A Man Like Me - Styx

Almost Said Goodbye - Peter Frampton

Hey Jude - The Beatles

Cool Changes - Little River Band