Waterbury Winter, page 6
“You’re welcome. Don’t overdo the booze.”
He pushes through the guests, wanting to find Julia. She’s dancing with a tall man, an accomplished dancer, and doesn’t see him. He sits in a corner with his drink. Julia was always popular. Why would she be interested in him, other than as an old friend? He had enjoyed holding her in his arms, though, and the music from South Pacific had brought back happy memories of his wife. The exotic setting of the musical had inspired them both to think about moving to California, a place where palm trees grow by the sea and the sun shines all year, a place of endless opportunity. The old dream has now become more urgent as an escape from a life that he doesn’t know how to fix. He checks his watch—only eleven, an hour to go until midnight. What’s he going to do to kill the time? He could have another drink or two, but then he remembers: he promised himself he wouldn’t drink too much. In fact, he probably should give up drinking altogether. He’ll stay long enough to ask Julia for her phone number.
The jostling crowd becomes rowdier as the midnight hour approaches. Barnaby has had enough to drink to feel slightly tipsy, and he sits with his eyes half shut, opening them every once in a while to search for Julia. He doesn’t see her. Perhaps she has met someone else. A man hands him a glass flute.
“What’s this for?” Barnaby asks.
“Champagne,” the man replies, “and there’s cake. You’ll have to stand up. The toasts are about to begin.”
The music stops, and the dancing couples separate from one another. Barnaby stands, and someone fills his glass. Lisa climbs onto a chair in the middle of the room.
“Listen up, everyone. We’ll have speeches now. Anyone who has anything to say, please stand in line. Then at midnight it’s time for cake and ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Thanks for coming.”
The first person takes his place on the chair and raises his glass. “This is for parties like this one. Here’s to our host. To Lisa.”
“To Lisa,” the crowd roars, and applauds.
A second man stands up. “To the people of Waterbury, who are all about to get older.”
“Whoa, speak for yourself,” a young man yells. He sways as he attempts to stand on the chair, and several hands reach out to steady him.
“I think he’s had a few too many beers,” Julia says, suddenly appearing at Barnaby’s side.
His face lights up as he sees her. He takes her arm, guiding her to the side of the room. “I’ve been looking for you. Would you be willing to give me your phone number? I’d like to stay in touch.”
“Sure,” she says, digging in her purse for a pencil and paper.
“You know, that guy has a point,” Barnaby says. “Why should we act older each year? Why not try to find our way back to ourselves when we were younger? To our best selves, I mean.”
“I agree. When we talked this evening about our younger days, I felt transported back. I’d love to recover the sense of optimism that I knew then. Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Exactly,” Barnaby says. “I’ve resolved to make a fresh start this year.”
“Good for you.”
He wrinkles his forehead and takes a breath.
“Uh, just wanted to ask. Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”
“I’d love to. Or dinner. Call me.”
His face relaxes as he exhales.
The guests count down to midnight: “Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” and begin singing, “Should auld acquaintance be forgot . . .”
Julia gives Barnaby a hug. “Happy New Year. I’m glad we met again.”
“Me, too,” he says and kisses her lightly on the cheek.
Barnaby walks the few steps home elated. Seeing Julia so radiant and friendly gives him hope. He resolves to make a real effort to turn things around this year. As he opens his front door, Popsicle greets him from the kitchen.
“Hello, hello, top of the morning.”
“Top of a very good morning,” he says. “And a happy New Year to you, too.”
“One for the road,” the parrot says.
“Not today,” he says, throwing a handful of peanuts into her food dish and covering her cage for the night. “Not tomorrow, either.”
CHAPTER 7
Julia Morgan keeps a close eye on her rearview mirror as she drives home. Sparse traffic in the first hour of the new year allows for easy viewing of the few speeding drunk drivers. Inconsiderate folk, endangering the lives of others, she thinks. Her thoughts turn to the party.
Lisa’s considerable accomplishments include lavish entertaining, and this evening’s event proved no exception. She’s a superb baker—the chocolate cake tasted luscious. Julia sighs. Compared to her friend and co-worker, Julia lives a dull life: she works too much, and doesn’t pursue hobbies in her free time. She hasn’t had a role in a theater production for over three years now. When younger, she’d fancied playing a character on stage added spark and intrigue to her everyday presence. Now she wants to make the most of the next phase of her life, her middle years. She needs a change. Her efforts to dress up tonight had paid off, though. She’d caught the attention of Barnaby Brown. Now, that made attending the party worthwhile. She hopes he’ll call soon.
She locks the car in the garage and enters the condominium. Her cat, Molière, curled up in a chair in the living room, opens a lazy eye when she comes in but doesn’t stir.
“I know. You’re annoyed with me for not celebrating the new year with you,” Julia says. “I’ll give you a special treat.”
She goes into the kitchen, opens a can of his favorite cat food, and spoons it into a dish. Molière springs from the chair and struts into the room, tail high. Julia ponders if Barnaby has a pet he talks to. If not, he might find her strange for having conversations with an animal. The cat joins her on the bed in due course, a warm presence at her feet.
The next morning, the phone awakens her.
“Hey Julia, happy New Year! Nancy here. The sun’s out! Want to go for a walk?”
“What time is it?” Julia answers sleepily.
“After ten. Did you celebrate last night?”
“Yes, sort of. I went to a party. I would like to walk. Give me an hour and I’ll be ready.”
Nancy Hamilton and Julia would both turn forty this year and had already promised to celebrate together on their birthdays. Celebrate, or commiserate? Julia asks herself. Nancy and she had met years ago at the gym where they had agreed to follow an exercise program to stay in shape as they progress into their forties.
Julia pulls on blue jeans and a thick sweatshirt and downs a glass of orange juice with a slice of toast before jogging the three blocks to her friend’s house. Nancy appears, dressed in a rainbow-colored wool hat, a purple coat, and red running shoes. Her intense brown eyes twinkle in the winter sunlight.
“It’s a new year,” Nancy says. “Let’s make it happy.”
“All right. Where are we going? Our usual trail?”
“Let’s go to the Green, run downhill to the river, and then climb back to get a cardio workout.”
Nancy sets a fast pace, and Julia increases her stride.
“If you keep this up, I won’t have any breath left for talking,” Julia says.
Nancy slows down. “All right. You want to talk. So talk.”
“Don’t you want to know where I went last night? Lisa invited me to her New Year’s Eve party. First time. Pretty nice, more than I expected.”
“Not like you to go to a party. What persuaded you?”
“I think I agree with Lisa that I need to get out more. Anyway, I met a man. Actually, I re-met someone I knew more than twenty years ago.”
“Really? What’s he like?”
“He’s different from when I knew him back then. Older, of course, and somehow sadder. He told me his wife died. That obviously affected him.”
They stop at a spot by the Naugatuck River and watch the water swirl past. Two mallards hug the edge, dipping and muttering softly to each other. The male’s green neck shimmers opalescent in the sunshine.
“I’ve always admired ducks,” Julia says. “The way they don’t let things get to them.”
“Uh huh. Good to have a thick skin, sometimes. It sounds as though this new man has a softer side, though.”
Just like me, Julia thinks.
“He does,” she replies. “But when he was in his twenties, he was a hunk! All the girls adored him.”
“Was he a boyfriend?”
“No. He and I never dated, partly because I went out with Sly, his friend. We spent entire days at the beach swimming, playing volleyball, and sailing. Sly had a sailboat.”
“I didn’t know you sailed.” Nancy rubs her hands together. “It’s getting chilly, standing still. Let’s move on.”
They sprint along the Main Street, dodging families with dogs and children. A scarlet cardinal darts from a tree, reminding Julia of the party and the special red dress she had worn. After a while, they slow to a walking pace.
“The best thing about Barnaby is that he’s an artist,” Julia says. “A good one.”
“Cool,” Nancy says. “I hope he’s a decent guy. You, my friend, have a genuine talent for falling for losers.”
“True.” Julia growls. “The last one was a disaster. But I think this one is okay. I’ve known him for a long time.”
“Sure, but what do you actually know about him now, with all those years in between? He could be an axe murderer.”
“Silly girl. If you saw him, that’s the last thing you’d think.”
“So tell me more,” Nancy says. “Why are you interested?”
Julia takes a breath. “I’m not sure. He’s sort of tired. But he has the same warm smile. And he has a romantic streak.”
“How do you know that?”
“We danced together. I could tell.”
“Aha. Has he asked you out already?”
“No, but he wanted my number and said he’d like to go out for coffee. I think he’s actually rather shy. He used to act more confident, like our friend Sly.”
“You’ve never talked about Sly. Another mistake?”
“Yep. Good looking. A womanizer, I learned later. I fell into his trap. But I was still in college, and he was five years older. At least I have an excuse for that one.”
Nancy rolls her eyes. “Okay. Good luck. Keep me posted.”
They reach the downtown area. No one is around, and some of the industrial brick buildings they pass gape hollow, with broken windows.
“It’s too bad about this crumbling old town,” Nancy says. “Did you know that last year Forbes magazine rated it one of the worst places for businesses and careers in America? Hard to conceive that for nearly a century Waterbury was the brass capital of the world! Still, I wouldn’t mind moving to one of the older neighborhoods, the ones where the houses have brass doorknobs, but they’re way out of my price range.”
“I’ve no idea where else I’d go if I left.” Certainly not back to Boston, not as long as my father’s still there, she thinks. Pushing the uncomfortable thought away, she turns to Nancy and says, “Anyway, where else would you want to go?”
“California, a place full of opportunity, Problem is, I’d need to find a job first. I’d have to pass the bar exam there, too. That’s not easy. Most people fail the first time.”
“You’ve built a good practice here. Why would you want to give that up?”
“I wouldn’t. It’s only a pipe dream.”
“Right. You have to have a dream, otherwise how can it come true? Remember the song from South Pacific?”
“Sure. Saw the musical in New Haven a few years back. Robert Goulet sang the main role. Loudly.”
“Well, they played the song last night at the party. Brought back memories. Barnaby and I both took part in a production of that play in Providence.”
“Oh, so he’s an actor as well as an artist. Sounds fascinating.”
“That’s what I think.”
“Let’s stretch and speed uphill. Kick off the new year,” Nancy says.
“You and your health nut routine. Drives me nuts.”
Nancy laughs. “Come back to my place and I’ll make us coffee and you can talk to me about Barnaby.”
She takes off. Julia follows more slowly, flashing on the image of her friend soaring in her career, while she, despite considerable skills in social work, flies closer to the ground. Casting her mind back, she reflects that she has never been able to help those closest to her. Her former husband, for one. She had known they were headed for trouble the first time he raised his voice, saying green didn’t suit her and she should never wear green. He had practically ripped the bright emerald blouse from her body. At the time, she attributed his behavior to his color blindness and forgave him. But she should have recognized then that he was blind in more ways than one.
Maybe a new relationship would add some fresh color to her life.
CHAPTER 8
Barnaby starts New Year’s Day with a song in his head. After greeting Popsicle and removing the cover from her cage, he shaves, then makes for the shower. Then he determines, in keeping with his new resolutions, to do laundry. He collects towels, various items of clothing, and Popsicle’s cover, and throws them all in the washing machine. After he sets it going, he strips the sheets from his bed. He can’t remember the last time he changed them, so they’re surely overdue for a wash. He whistles as he works. It’s a few minutes before he realizes the tune is the enchanted evening song from South Pacific. His thoughts turn to Julia. His heart skips a beat. He’ll pluck up courage to call her soon. This evening.
While he’s waiting for the washer to finish its cycle, he decides it would be a good idea to pay some bills. He receives his paycheck the next day so he can write checks before he spends too much of his money on booze or at the pub. Then he remembers: he’s giving up drinking. Damn. He’ll miss it. But it has caused so many problems in his life, it’s the new year, and he wants a different life in California. He opens the drawer containing the paperwork. Right on top sit two bills from the bank with red PAYMENT OVERDUE stamps on the envelopes. He slits the envelopes. The first bill is for $150 plus a late fee of $15. The second is for $150 plus a late fee of $50. Goddammit, that’s already $365. His two-week paycheck nets less than $700. So much for paying for the car repair. They cancelled his credit card years ago, and he has no other source of income—except for the sale of his paintings. He can go to O’Malley’s and ask Sean to send an email to Sly, as his friend offered to do.
He pushes his arms into his old coat, responds to Popsicle’s “bye-bye” salutation, and heads for the bar.
Barnaby’s eyes adjust slowly to the relative darkness inside O’Malley’s. Sean stands in his usual place behind the counter. The place reeks of stale beer.
“Well, hello there, stranger,” Sean says. “Missed you last night.”
“Went to a party. Nice change, but not my style.”
Sean places a glass on the counter and reaches for the scotch.
“Not today, thanks. I’ll have a cup of coffee instead.”
Barnaby perches on a stool and faces the bartender who regards him with raised eyebrows.
“Overdo it last night?” Sean asks, pouring coffee.
Barnaby shakes his head. “No. I’m giving the stuff up. New year resolution.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Good luck to you with that.”
“Reason I came in, besides seeing you, is to take you up on your offer to send my friend an email. I need to contact him about selling my paintings.”
“Sure thing. What’s his address?”
Barnaby pulls it from his pocket and hands it over. Sean puts a laptop on the counter and takes a seat beside him.
Barnaby casts his eyes around the room. No one else is there. He’ll miss drinking with his companions—and the booze, for that matter. This isn’t going to be easy. He’s tempted to ask for a drink.
“Okay,” Sean says. “What do you want to say?”
“How about, ‘Hello Sly. I’d like to talk to you about the paintings you said you’d like to see. Give me a call or send me your phone number. Thanks, Barnaby.’”
Sean types the note and presses the send key.
“Guess I’m going to have to get myself a computer someday,” Barnaby says.
“Yeah, hard to get by without one. So what else is new?”
“I met an old friend at the party last night. A woman.” He fingers his coffee cup, raises it to his mouth, then sets it down. “Might ask her out.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess you’re already havin’ a happy new year. Goin’ off the drink and gettin’ a girlfriend. Good for you, fella. We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll still come around. I might even do a painting of the place, as you suggested.”
“That’d be nice.” Sean wipes the counter, takes glasses out of the dishwasher and sets them on the shelf. He turns to face Barnaby again. “What’s her name?”
“Julia.”
“Julia. I knew a woman with that name. Used to come in with a guy who caused trouble. Forget his name. He’d drink too much and start fights. Had to throw him out more than once.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone this woman would know. Can you describe her?”
“Pleasant smile, dark hair. Sometimes wore somethin’ sparkly in her hair.”
“Hmm. Could be Julia. Has she come here recently?”
“Nah. A few years back, I guess.”
Barnaby is relieved. Julia had not given him the impression that she was in a relationship, but then she might only consider him an old friend, not a potential romantic partner. Or perhaps she likes that guy she danced with. It doesn’t hurt to try, though. He’ll call her soon. “How are things with you?” he asks Sean.
“Oh, not too bad. Goin’ to hire a guy to work the bar when the weather improves so I can go fishin’.”
“That’s good. You work too much.”
“I do, but I like the job, talkin’ to people, you know?”
