THEN THERE WAS THE TIME #4

Crystal Ball / 2018 / Collage on paper / Russell C. Smith

Then there was the time when Jim and Diane got married right out of High School. Our whole group of friends were stunned. Marriage wasn’t even a remote possibility, or on any of our minds. Whatsoever. The two of them were on the opposite ends of the scale with communication skills. When they disagreed, Jim shut her down with shouting and scary looks. And she’d give in. Something behind her eyes gave her away. She was a girl with unspoken ideas and feelings Jim was yet to find out. He, of big belly and bluster, and she of gentle smiles and slender frame, yet with an iron spine. His own brother could see the storm clouds on the horizon. He’d suggested maybe Jim should wait a while, and laughed nervously. Didn’t make a dent in Jim’s resolve. The wedding day got off to a bad start when his brother was put in charge of decorating Jim’s car. There were the usual messages with markers, and cans ties to the bumper of the couple’s getaway car. Luckily, none of the rest of us had been involved in the types of markers chosen. Big bold black and green markers on a cream-colored car, not made to be easily washed off the hood and trunk of a vehicle afterwards. Jim was out of his mind mad on his wedding day. Luckily, his brother took most of the heat, and the marker’s words would remain on the car until it got a new paint job. On the wedding day, I made up the word, unwipe-offable. Directly following the honeymoon there were screaming fights, and much unease for months after. Diane stayed out of Jim’s way when she could. Gradually, things settled down. Within six months, there was a baby on the way. More than one of us said, “Yikes.” They named their kid Charley, and they both loved him in their own way. The thing about being a teenager is you’re always interested in trying new things. Growing up, we knew more than one school friend who’d pushed the envelope too far, and did something life-endingly dumb like drowning in a secret underground cave. The High School daredevil became one more cautionary tale about living in the Sunshine State. Time passed, and we spent time at our favorite bar, just a few streets up from the apartment building where Jim and Diane lived. Charley turned three before we knew it. We all met girlfriends or boyfriends, and found slightly better crummy restaurant jobs at Red Lobster. A rumor had started about Diane. Not sure who knew it first, but Jim let it slip one night while we drank pitchers of beer at Clancy’s. Jim took a big swig from his pint glass, and grew really quiet. Finally, he said, “Diane’s moved out.” Then he got up from the beer-scented wooden table and stumbled out the side door. Joyce spoke after a while, saying, “Jim called and told me a week ago, and said she’s met someone else.” Bill blew out a long breath, and said, “Might as well tell everyone the rest, Joyce.” She gave Bill a semi-annoyed look, then said, “Diane met a girl. Girlfriend. Moved in with her.” Within two months our friends got divorced, and were awarded joint custody of Charley. Trouble was, joint custody didn’t sit well with Jim. He packed up Charley in their wedding car, and drove up I-75 all night long, cutting through the center of Florida like a shiny knife blade. None of us heard from either Jim or Diane for close to four years. One night, from out of nowhere, Joyce got a call from Diane, who was living in Austin, Texas. By this time, I’m in New York City, on the second floor of a Hell’s Kitchen tenement. Going to art school. Joyce wants to know if it’s alright if Diane calls me. “Sure,” I said, out of curiosity more than anything else. So, Diane called one afternoon before I rode my bike through Central Park. Up to the Metropolitan Museum, where I protected artwork on the Early Watch. A few niceties were exchanged. Diane was living with a different woman in Austin. Said they were happy. “Have you seen or spoken to Jim?” she asked. “No, I haven’t,” I said. “I saw his brother once, in the Village. He’s working on a farm somewhere in New Jersey. We haven’t stayed in touch.” “I have a feeling Jim’s also in New Jersey,” she said. “I’m thinking of coming up there to find Charley. Could I stay with you?” “Yeah, you could,” I said. “Never liked what had happened to you. Didn’t think it was a bit fair.” Diane’s intuition had been spot on. She called Joyce back, and pressed harder. Joyce admitted she’d talked with Jim within the past month. While she didn’t know where he and Charley lived in New Jersey, she knew for sure it was the state they were in. A day later, Diane flew up to New York City, and took a cab from JFK to Hell’s Kitchen. From there, Diane followed her nose. She found a car rental place around the corner on Tenth Avenue. Drove to East Orange, the town where Jim’s family lived before moving to Florida. Diane walked into the police station and told the cop at the front desk who she was looking for. From the look on his face and his body language, she knew something was up. The cop said, “Wait here.” Turned out, Jim lived next door. The cop knew Jim and Charley, and he told Jim his ex-wife was waiting for him next door. Diane called me to let me know she was going to stay in East Orange for several days, focusing on being with her son. Figuring out what she was going to do next. There was just one more thing. It happened when Jim walked upstairs along with Diane, as she came to get her luggage. No words were exchanged. But as the saying goes, If looks could kill, I would’ve been dead.