Chapter 11
Up went the garage door, screeching to a halt on its overhead tracks. Gert thought quickly for something to say, discarding "Good Morning" as somehow inappropriate, but failing to come up with anything better.
As it turned out, she was spared an instantaneous greeting. Her first glimpse of Larry was his back retreating toward the open door of the still-throbbing Buick. Sliding behind the wheel, he moved the car into gear and then into its spot in the garage.
He stepped out of the car and looked at the three of them. "Gert," he said, his tone noncommittal.
"Larry," she said, her tone matching his.
And then it was silence.
Until it was broken by the meter man:
"Hi there, I'm your meter man."
Gert quickly followed. "I was showing him where the meters were." Thank God he'd pulled up his pants and fastened them properly.
"I'm looking for the rake," the gardener said. "Where's the rake?"
"Gert," Larry said. "Larry?"
"I saw the side door open. I knew you were here. I honked."
"I heard you," she said.
"I did too," said the meter man.
"I was going to open the door," she said.
"So was I," said the gardener.
"None of you did," Larry observed.
"Very true," said the meter man. "Very true."
"The reason we didn't-" Gert began.
"Yes," said the gardener.
Gert looked to him for completion. He shrugged. She tried again. "The reason we didn't-"
"I was talking," the meter man said. "I was telling them-"
"About your experiences," Gert quickly said.
"My experiences?" the meter man asked.
"As a meter man. You know, the Girl Scouts."
He looked at her stupidly. "Was I telling you about the Girl Scouts?"
The gardener nodded. "Good wholesome group, the Girl Scouts. Where's the goddamned rake, anyway?"
"Gert," Larry said.
"Larry."
"In the house. We've got some serious talking to do."
Serious? Gert's tummy flashed hot and cold. Did Larry suspect? Rather, did he know? Did her face show it? Did the men's faces show it?
"Gert."
"Larry."
And they went out of the garage and into the house.
Larry poured himself a straight Scotch. Thinking about it, he poured two. Then he drank both and poured two more, this time passing one of the glasses to Gert.
"We've got to talk," he said.
"Larry-"
"I suspected it for a long time, Gert."
He stood there, in their kitchen, staring at her. God, she thought, God God God! What have I done? Whatever I've gotten but of it, it wasn't worth it. If the pleasures of the moment have broken up our marriage-God!
"I love you, Larry," she said lamely. "I know it doesn't do much good for you to hear that-now, I mean-but-"
"Then you know what it is I have to tell you," he said. But he said it strangely, as if it were a question, almost, and not a statement.
Gert paused. She was about to tell him-well, never mind what she was about to tell him. This was not the appropriate moment for her to be telling anything at all.
"You tell me, Larry," she said. But her fingers were crossed behind her back.
"It's over."
Her heart sunk. "O-ver?"
He nodded and took a large swig of the Scotch. "I've been promoted."
"Promoted?" He nodded again. "Head of sales services, office in the city. They've moved another man in from the field to take my old slot."
"Larry!" she cried happily, running to him, enfolding herself in his arms. He sighed and went on:
"I know. No more travelling for hubby. No new things, no sex souvenir treats from distant places. But we'll think of something, baby-we've got to!"
Gert stepped back from him, a bright smile on her face. "Larry, we've got a four-day Thanksgiving weekend ahead of us. We'll use the days to-well, experiment a little. In fact, let's go upstairs right now. Some thing you said just gave me an idea."
"Something I said?" He looked at her strangely. "Sure. You said treat. Well, treats often have to do with eating, don't they?"
Unsurely he nodded, watching her open a cupboard and bring out something.
"I guess so," he said, "but I ate on the plane. I'm not at all hungry."
"Perhaps, but I am-for you," she said, sure that he couldn't mistake the bedroom look in her eyes.
"But what's that got to do with that?" he asked, pointing at what she held in her hand. "Besides, I didn't think you like pumpernickel."
Gert laughed, a throaty kind of laugh. "Oh, but I do, husband mine. And I'll bet you will, too." And she turned and went into the living room where she remembered she'd left the mini-face-massager she'd bought not too long ago.
But as one might guess, Larry soon nestled into his new job, and also into his new secretary. That only took a month. It took another month before he began to figure out excuses why he had to visit certain cities (the names sounded oh! so familiar) and "put that idiot that took my place back on the ball!" Next were the excuses why he had to work late, even when in town. This, Gert discovered, turned out to be the daughter of a Pawnee Indian Chief who had a wild little apartment on the other side of town. And that finally gave Gert an idea. She rented her own little pad in still another part of town.
And from those two grubby rooms, one can still to this day find Gertie "operating" from ten a.m. to three in the afternoon most days of the week. Two weeks ago it was a guy who worked for the city, testing the safety of elevators in her building. Gert showed him how completely unsafe her own ups and downs could be. Last week it was a Marine recruiting sergeant who seemed to have lost one of his young recruits. Gert "recruited" the sergeant with no trouble at all, then located the lost enlistee hiding out in a top floor apartment. She showed him what boot camp was all about. "Hut-two-three, four, pump in cadence you bastard!"
And today, ah, today! A jerk with a truck parked downstairs.
"I sharpen scissors, knives and tools, lady?"
"Come in, buddy boy. And I'll sharpen your tool 'till you go ape!"
And then Gert looked at her watch. One o'clock. Only a couple of hours to spare on this one. She'd have to do a quick "grinding" job and get home. Larry had said something about being tired this morning, may be home about four for an early evening nap.
Gert knew better. He was scheduled to catch a plane in the morning for God-knows-where. He just wanted to be in good shape for the fun 'n games, that's all. Well, she'd see to it that he was!
She thought about this as she "scissored" her legs high up around the sharpener's waist.
"Ohh, that's it, honey, I'm getting sharper every minute! Unnnggg. Ohhh. Ahhhh!"