“There he laid, with penny-pieces on his eyes,” I said like a pirate.
My son Kelly was here now. He was coming to visit Gerry and me for the first time in nine years. He was at the gate in a rental car, and I yelled to Gerry in the backyard. But my husband didn’t hear me.
I buzzed my son in and he drove through the gate. Someone was in the car with Kelly. Was it his sister? Both car doors opened at the same time and I saw Kelly get out of the car, a dark, long beard had grown on his face. He looked older and tired, and I saw no smile there.
Then I turned to the passenger as he got out and I recognized his shaved, oversized head and that awful, reddish short-cropped mustache.
“Hi, Mom,” Kelly said, and I looked over at him.
“Hi,” I said, weakly.
“Hello, Mare,” my ex-husband Sean said. Sean! My son had brought my ex-husband through my gate and into my presence. I was on fire with anger.
But I calmly asked, “What is this?” looking at Sean and then back to Kelly. Kelly said nothing but Sean started walking toward me, I turned to look at him, and started to back up.
“What are you doing on my property?” I asked Sean directly, and he stopped walking. I said the magic word; ‘property’. Sean knew he was trespassing if I didn’t want him here, and knew he could be arrested. But I opened the gate, didn’t I? They’ll lay the blame on me for letting him in, and then shooting him in the knees. Sean will say I entrapped him.
He started moving toward me again as I was backing up, and then he said calmly, “I just want to talk.” He acted as if I were the one causing the problem by my unreasonableness. He then put his hands on me, grabbing my elbow, and refused to let go. “You look good,” he said, acting like he had only good intentions.
“Get away from me,” I seethed, jerking my arm but he didn’t let go. He was starting to hurt me.
"Dad, stop!" my son said in a raised voice. Then I felt of whoosh of air as Gerry’s big fist hit Sean square in the jaw! It was all slow motion after that; the skin on Sean’s face made that rubbery look, like it was flapping in a breeze, and I could tell immediately that he was unconscious. But he was still on his feet, yet to fall. His hand on me went limp and my ex fell backward on the pavestones in a sitting position, then fell over forward with his head on his knees. He can't even fall like a man; he falls like a Raggedy Ann doll.
I looked over at Gerry and he was looking at me with a questioning look. “Gerry, that's my ex-husband, Sean,” I said in what sounded like slow motion. “Hey, Sean, this is my husband, Gerry,” I said, putting my arm through Gerry's. But Sean wasn’t paying attention because he’d gone to sleep.
My son seemed momentarily frozen in place before he ran to his dad. He pulled at Sean’s shoulders, pulling his head up, and lay him down on the pavestones while I just stood there and watched the whole thing. I was unwilling and unable to move.
“Mrs. Gerry!” I heard Cook call me and I turned to look at her. She was wringing her hands, wondering what was going on.
“Call an ambulance, Cook,” I said without emotion. “And bring a wet washcloth and a dry towel.” My ex-husband has had a sinking spell.
“Mare?” Gerry asked, looking at me, puzzled.
I shrugged, practicing my speech for the police. “I didn’t see him when I opened the gate,” I said matter-of-factly, looking at Gerry then down at that sad sight. That’s the truth, I hope someone will believe me. Whenever Sean is nearby, no one believes anything I say.
People were moving all around me and Kelly stood off to the side, watching Gerry as he was kneeling over Sean. My husband was patting his stupid, awful Sean-face. I heard sirens coming up the hill in the distance.
Suddenly, I was outside of myself and I saw Sean lying there. Little cartoon Xs were over his eyes, my big, brawny, happy husband kneeling over him. My tall son was standing in the weeds, as if he’d been thrown clear of this tragedy, and just wandered upon the scene.
“There he laid, with penny-pieces on his eyes,” I said, like a pirate, to myself. I pulled out my phone, leaned down opposite Gerry, smiled and took a selfie of the three of us.
No, I didn’t do any of that and my lawyer will back me up on that point. I was still standing where I had been the minute Gerry socked Sean and then he opened his eyes. His eyes fluttered, like Bambi’s mom’s eyes fluttered right after the hunter showed up. One shot and he went down; what a glass-jawed pipsqueak.
“How ya doin’, buddy?” Gerry asked in such a cheerful way as he lightly patted the unpunched side of Sean’s face. That struck me as laughable; I wasn’t fantasizing, he really called Sean “buddy.” I’ll bet Sean won’t show up uninvited at our house again. Or put his hands on me or try to force me to do anything ever again. A terrified look came over Sean’s face when he realized Gerry was kneeling over him. He tried to get up and Gerry pushed him back down.
“Whoa, there, you might have a broken neck. Just stay still until the ambulance gets here,” Gerry calmly told him. Sean tried again to sit up, and Gerry pushed his pointy shoulders down again.
“Stay down and your neck won’t get broken,” Gerry clarified, and assured him in a kind voice that belied the message he was sending. Sean lay back down, the whites of his eyes visible from space.
Copyright Mare Loch 2021, 2022 © Excerpt from Orange Grove: The Reformation of a Midlife Wife by Mare Loch. All rights reserved.
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