Cracks in the Sidewalk(17)

“I don’t understand how it can end this way,” she sobbed. “How he can stop loving me just because I’m sick. What about our kids? What about all the things—” She fell into her mother’s arms and wept like a child. “It’s unfair, so unfair…”

“Yes, it is,” Claire said. “But Jeffrey’s the one to be pitied. He’s got a cancer far worse than yours. His eats the soul and lets the body walk around more dead than alive.”

She put her hand beneath Elizabeth’s chin and tilted her face upward. “Try to understand, Jeffrey’s not mad at you. He’s mad at himself. He looks in the mirror and sees a man who’s failed at life. He can’t do anything about those failures, so he gets angry and smashes the mirror.”

“But,” Elizabeth sobbed, “I still love him.”



On the second Tuesday in September Claire took Elizabeth to Sloan Kettering for a consultation. That same afternoon JT visited Charlie at his office, asking again for a loan and upping the ante to twenty-five thousand.

“No,” Charlie said flatly without apologies or explanation.

“No?” JT repeated with a slit-eyed expression. “No?”

“That’s right, no.”

“Didn’t Liz talk to you? Didn’t she explain? I gotta have that money to keep going. How am I supposed to support my family if the store goes bankrupt?”

“That’s not my problem,” Charlie answered. “I imagine you’ll have to get a job like most other men.”

“A job doing what? I’m a retailer. Women’s clothing, that’s what I know. I’m no good at anything else.”

Without lifting his eyes from the ledger sheet in front of him, Charlie said, “Well, since your store is about to go under, you’re probably not very good at retailing either. Maybe it’s time to consider a change.”

JT slammed his hand on the desk. “I need that money! It’s not just the store, I’ve got bills! I can’t pay the mortgage, how am I supposed to pay for food, gas, electricity, and a babysitter for those three kids? You got any idea how much babysitters cost?”

“Liz has been begging to see her kids. Bring them to our house, and Claire will watch them for free.”

“If Liz gets the kids during the day, will I get the loan?”

“No.”

“I’ve got more than babysitting bills! What about all the other things, food, gas, electricity? What am I supposed to do about those?”

Charlie’s sympathy was long gone. Although he never mentioned it, he knew of the telephone conversations that left Elizabeth in tears.

“As I suggested,” he said icily, “get a job.” He handed the classified section of the Newark Star Ledger to Jeffrey. “This should help.”

JT whacked the paper aside. “Don’t push me.”

“Or what?” Charlie said. “What can you do?”

JT didn’t answer. He whirled on his heel and stormed out of Charlie’s office, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. As he crossed through the outer lobby of the bank he muttered loudly, “You’ll find out what, old man! I’ll fix you and your whole damned family! Just wait!”





Elizabeth Caruthers


Some days I hate Jeffrey. Other days I realize I’m still in love with him; then I hate myself. I want to stop thinking about him, but I can’t. Forgetful as I’ve become, why can’t I forget him for even a minute? In the darkest part of the night, when everyone else is sleeping, I lie here remembering his warm breath in my ear, the weight of his body circling me like a protective shell. I can picture mornings when the kids climbed in bed with us and wriggled around until we looked like a spaghetti bowl of arms and legs. Memories like that are so painful, I almost convince myself that it would be a blessing to drift into that black hole and remain there. In the light of day I can think more rationally and then I accept that those memories are what I have to hold on to, if I’m to keep my sanity and make it through this.

Jeffrey wasn’t always this way. At one time our life together was absolutely wonderful. Things began to change about a year after he bought the store. At first he’d come home bubbling with enthusiasm. All through dinner he’d talk about how great business was, how he was gonna upgrade his merchandise and expand the store, how he’d change the look of Westfield.

Failure, that’s what changed Jeffrey. He’s always expected everything to be storybook perfect, even people, and especially himself. After all that pursuit of perfection, look where we are now. Both of us are broken—his spirit, my body.

Mom’s right when she says JT hates himself. He hates himself and me too, because neither of us are what we once were. I understand his anger, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

The problem is Jeffrey can never settle; he always wants more. He wanted a store that would make him the envy of all the merchants in Westfield. Instead of trying to have more than everybody else, I wish he could’ve seen we already had everything that mattered. Try telling that to JT, and he’d think you were ninety-nine cents short of a dollar.

He’s not one to take suggestions from anybody. Daddy tried to tell him he was getting in over his head, but he said Daddy had a negative attitude. JT developed this nasty streak when the business didn’t pan out.