The Fourty-Niner Diner
W 49th Street and 10th Avenue,
New York City,
June 6th, 1964
Joey Baird had escorted his date to the Belmont Stakes out of the front gates of the Aqueduct Racetrack and stuck his arm out to catch hers as they crossed the parking lot. The sun was beating down on them, the stench of lead gas filled the air, and the day was still young. He grinned as Kaye got her short heel stuck in between the cracks of the roadway and the grass, and had to walk half-barefooted to the car.
"You should have let me drive." Joey said, opening the passenger door and sitting down.
"I wouldn't be caught dead in your car." Kaye said, rolling down the window of the Mercedes-Benz.
"I meant your car." Joey said.
"Oh. Then I wouldn't be caught dead letting you drive my car." Kaye said starting the engine. Joey scoffed. She turned on the radio. I Get Around by the Beach Boys came blaring through the speakers.
"We always take my car 'cause it's never been beat, and we've never missed yet with the girls we…"
Joey's musical intermission was cut off by the sound of Kaye rolling the Becker Mexico's dial to a different station.
"Okay Father Killjoy." Joey pulled out a cigarillo and lit the end with the car's coil lighter. "You should lighten up, you know. Your looks could drop a man at a mile but your attitude is like biting into an onion."
"I aim to please." Kaye said, pulling out onto Rockaway Boulevard. "An onion a day keeps the boys away."
"No more clever retorts. I think I owe you a drink anyway. Your horse beat mine."
The drive went quickly. Traffic had congested at a few entry points down Rockaway, but it was mostly clear once they hit midtown. Down West 49th Street was a bar and eatery that Joey frequented with Stan on Tuesday afternoon's for their sandwiches. Kaye pulled up out front and parked up at the curb. Joey held the door as they entered into the egress and they walked to a booth facing the street side window.
The drinks came quickly along with food, and by 5:30, both Joey and Kaye had eaten and were tipsy. The Skyliners Since I Don't Have You was playing on the jukebox in the recess of the bar.
"So you've been dreaming of your name on the door, eh?" Joey said.
"What makes you say that?"
"You aren't someone to stay put long." Joey drank down his beer. "You either move up, or move out."
"I'm half a year in. Let's leave the hunt further down the line."
"They better give it to you when the time comes. Can't imagine you against us. You're the female Don."
"I resent that." Kaye smiled.
"Why? The man's a machine. He always gets what he wants."
"He's divorced and alone at 40. That speaks to something."
"He ate too many cakes at the same time."
"Don't hire two caterers for the same event and you won't have that problem." Kaye said. "Doesn't take a genius to figure that out."
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about him."
"Every woman at the office has." Kaye said placidly.
Joey drank.
"Hurt's your ego doesn't it."
"What does he have that I don't?" He demanded with a coy smile.
"You're cute. He's handsome. He's our husband. You're the milkboy we talk to the other country club wives about."
"Always a bridesmaid, never a bride."
"Your time will come." Kaye said, sipping a Tom Collins and lighting a cigarette.
"Could I take you to dinner?"
"Aren't we at dinner?"
"You know what I mean."
"No." Kaye replied instantly.
"Why not?" Joey pleaded.
"Why do you want to go to dinner?"
"Because I like you. Do I need another reason?"
"I suppose not." Kaye smoked. "No, because I don't like you."
"I don't believe you. You called me your milkboy!"
"You are. But I'm faithful in my marriage and I don't step out on my husband."
"And who's that?"
Kaye flicked the ash from her cigarette, looking intently to Joey.
"Stan?" Joey scoffed. "Please don't tell me it's Stan."
Silence.
"It's not Stan! Tell me it isn't true."
"Stan has it for Peggy."
"Oh god, really? Not that tight wad. I can't tell what's worse. That you love Stan, or that Stan loves Peggy."
Kaye exhaled smoke towards Joey.
"To each his own." Joey raised his glass. "You never really answered my question."
"Why don't you like Joan?" Kaye interrupted.
"Hmm?"
"You're always so raunchy and rude to her."
"I don't know." He paused. " I guess because nobody tells her no. She thinks the world is her oyster. She can always have whatever she wants because she has big tits and a smug grin. All the guys fawn over her for attention. Makes me sick."
"Because it's true, or because you're jealous?"
Joey thought for a moment.
"Probably both."
"So Joan is contemptible but Don is admirable."
"It's not that simple." He paused. "She's always treating me like crap. It's like I can't be an adult around her. She treats Stan fine. It's like she raises her voice and is talking to a toddler when she asks me to do things. Can you do this for me, idiot?"
Joey said in a pitched tone, talking to no one in particular. Kaye laughed.
"You two seem to get along." He continued.
"We've bonded over things." Kaye smoked. "I like her because she's exactly who you imagine her to be. There's no facade."
"Surely she has secrets. Maybe she's slept with every man in existence."
"Wouldn't that just assuage your jealousy."
"That's a big word for a little girl."
"I read a lot. You should too. You might learn something."
"Maybe." He put down his mug of beer. "Dance with me?"
"Now?"
"No, in 1970. Yes now." He motioned to take her hand. Kaye looked up to his bright eyes and slid her cigarette onto the divot in the ashtray. She took a long swig of her Tom Collins and followed him to the small hardwood floor near the jukebox. Joey walked up to it and rolled a nickel into the machine. He hummed, running his fingers over the buttons.
"While I'm young." Kaye said, standing off to the side.
"Gimme a minute. Most of these songs my mother would approve of."
The soulful sound of Unchained Melody came through the crackling speakers. Joey reached out his hand and clasped Kaye's into his. He drew her into himself, and began swaying with the music. She placed her hand over his shoulder, and followed him closely. They were the lone couple on the floor at half-past five on a Saturday evening.
"You're good at this." She said, moving slowly.
"I'm not all bad."
She had nothing to say. It was a peaceful moment. Joey was quiet. Kaye dropped her shoulders and leaned her head onto his shoulder.
"What happened to your skull?" Joey began. "Looks like you got cracked pretty good."
He was staring at the gash on her scalp which had become visible from his private angle.
"Don't worry about it."
"Didn't know you were a clutz."
"Say another word and I'll leave you on the curb."
They danced on as the song became more grand. The volume filled the air around them. There was no tension to be witty or sarcastic in the following moments.. They slowly danced in circles until the song came to a faded ending. Kaye withdrew from him, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"Thank you." She said, moving back towards their table.
"That must be worth a second date."
"I should be getting home. I'll drive you."
Joey pursed his lips, sighing.
"I'll get the tab then."
He walked over to the barman, paying the bill. Kaye slipped on her overcoat and finished the cigarette. Joey led her out of the door. The streets were busier, people pushed past them on the sidewalk and traffic was running both directions quickly.
Joey lived in a cinderblock tenement in Navy Hill. Kaye resented having to cross the river and waste time. She cut off of Flatbush after the Manhattan Bridge, taking Sands Street until it met Flushing Avenue, heading east.
"This place gives me the heebies." Kaye said quietly.
"Told you we should have driven my car. People give an old Ford no mind."
"Surely we pay you more than this." Kaye looked to him.
"I'm freelance. What do you expect?"
"You're not an employee?" Kaye accelerated the car.
"No." Joey laughed. "They have me on retainer. Easy way to keep the costs down guess. I'll strong arm Don into a job someday. How'd you get the job? Peggy says you slept with Don."
"Of course she did." She paused. "I strong armed Don into a job."
"Of course you did." Joey smiled. "Just up here."
He pointed to a small 4-story apartment, painted in a ugly shade of faded light blue. Kaye turned into the small cul-de-sac, driving up to the curb.
"Now get out before my car gets nicked."
"So that's it? You come all the way here and you don't even let me give you a horribly burnt instant coffee?"
"I like coffee as much as I like your company." Kaye said.
"In love?"
"Bearable." She grinned.
Without another word, he leaned over, kissing Kaye. His movements were sudden, but not forceful. He slowed down when he'd accomplished his mission. Kaye jolted at the first presence of his lips. She relaxed and kissed him gently. With her right hand she pushed his chest away.
"Tell me you don't want it." He whispered.
"What I don't want…" She said, sitting up and adjusting her sunglasses. "Is to ruin a perfectly good night…"
Joey kissed her again. This time, he maintained pressure, moving over the shifter on the floor with his foot. His hand wrapped around her neck, holding her head, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Kaye entertained it for a moment.
"Enough." She said quietly, pulling away.
"Why?" He kissed her neckline, and ran his right hand down her chest and over her breast.
"Joey." She took her elbow and pressed into him. "Enough."
"You're saying no…" He whispered. "But you mean yes…"
Joey moved his hand between the buttons on her blouse and began running underneath it, over her bare breast. Inhaling deeply, Kaye slid back in her seat, tilting her head down and away from him. Suddenly, it became a hard tiled floor. The car became a room; a small dark room with a single hanging bulb from a triangular fixture above her. Kirk Lorrie's hands were at her neck; she was gagged and bound at the ankles and wrists. His smile was monstrous, his eyes empty and void of fear.
"Come on Kaye," Kirk pleaded. "Let me have you."
"No..." She whimpered. "No."
"Stop resisting it. You know you want me."
"No." Kaye said louder. "No!"
"Huh?" Joey's voice came through the mirage.
"Get away from me." Kaye said. "Get the fuck away from me!" She shouted.
"Okay!" Joey yelped, leaning off her. "I'm sorry… I thought…"
Kaye was ready to bolt. Her hand was on the chromed door handle. Her eyes were wide, blood coursed through every nerve ending. A migraine came over her, and her vision blurred. Two realities came crashing together.
"I was getting mixed signals..." Joey said, slouching back into the passenger seat.
"Get out of the car."
"What?" He said.
"Get out of the car now!" She stared as a deer in a set of rapidly enclosing headlights. "Get out, get out, get out and fuck off!"
Her voice trembled in high pitched screams.
"Okay, my god, I get it. I'm sorry..." His voice trailed off. He snapped open the passenger door, and slammed it shut. Kaye gazed in the mirror, watching him ascend to the sidewalk, and make his way towards the blued building. Her breathing slowed with each step he made away from her. Reaching into her purse, she snapped open her flask and downed the rest of what remained from the Stakes. She dumped a dollop of Benzedrine onto her compact mirror ,extracted from her small makeup bag, and snorted the entire pile. It singed her inner nose terribly, and she pinched the bridge to mitigate the painful sting. Leaning back into her chair, she sighed. A cigarette emerged from her purse and was plucked into her mouth. In the silence inside the cab of the Mercedes, Kaye snapped her lighter open and lit it, inhaling in short successive bursts. Her fear slowly subsided, and the mental fog lessened.
The Mercedes started, and peeled away from the curb. It swung around the stubbed cul-de-sac, and jutted out into traffic. Black tears ran down her face and her nose began to run. Cigarette smoke pooled in the car. By the time she hit Chinatown, the amphetamines were kicking in. Her hands stopped shaking, the headache disappeared. Her breathing slowed and the pain in her chest lessened. The soothing warmth of the whiskey reminded her of home. Kaye sobbed on and off throughout the drive as the sun set in her rearview mirror.
Apartment 3R
104 Waverly Place,
New York City
June 7th, 1964 – 7:13PM
Sally Draper sat near the large window of her father's apartment. She was trying to peer over the ledge outside the window, but was having difficulty because it was obscured by the ledge . There was someone in the building across the street, hanging their clothes outside on the fire escape. A shirt was taken by the wind in the gusty Sunday evening air, and thrown into the street below. Sally smiled.
Bobby was sitting in front of the television, which was tuned to the news, playing with two toy trucks. Gene was asleep in his crib. Don was seated on his couch, leaned back; the Saturday Evening Post in his hands. A cigarette dangled from his lips and a tumbler of scotch sat on the small side table beneath a desk lamp. He was deep into a story about the Birmingham Church Bomber when the phone rang out. He didn't look up from the paper.
"Sally, could you get it?"
Sally stood up from her perch and moved over behind her father near the kitchen where the telephone hung from the wall.
"Hello? … Yes, who's this? … Nancy?"
Don threw the paper down and stood up.
"I'll take it." He shot quickly. Sally brought the receiver away from her ear, and hung it out for her father to take. She went back to the window.
"Hello."
"So what happened Friday?" Nancy started.
"What?"
"You never called. You didn't even call yesterday to explain yourself."
He sighed, reaching back with his hand and putting it on his head.
"I'm sorry. I was busy all weekend at work; I hardly had time at home."
"You couldn't have called and let me know?"
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine." She paused. "Why don't you make it up to me tonight? If you don't disappoint, I won't."
Don looked over to Sally and Bobby, both in their own worlds. Bobby had driven the cars away from the TV and was now entering the bedroom.
"8:30." He said, still watching his children.
"Good boy." She said. "See you soon."
The line went dead. Don hung up the receiver.
"Was that Nancy the nurse? It sounded like her." Sally said, facing her father.
"No, it was one of the secretaries at work. I have to go in to work late."
"What are you working on?" She asked.
"Actually," Don said, sitting back down and butting his cigarette into a crystal ashtray. "I wanted to talk to you both about that. Bobby, come here."
His son appeared back in the doorway. Don gestured for him to sit beside him on the couch.
"I'm going to California this week for work. I'll be gone the whole—"
"And you can't take us on the weekend." Sally finished.
"No," He said, picking up the tumbler. "I want both of you and Gene to come with me, to San Jose."
"Why?" Sally asked.
"Why? Because it's beautiful there, there's lots of beaches and the ocean, and it would be nice to get away."
"Who's going to take care of us while you're working?" She continued.
"Your mother is coming along. You'll stay together at the Ritz in San Jose. We'll go out to the beach most days. Don't you want to go?"
"Yes." Sally said. "I'm just waiting for the catch."
"There is no catch." He smiled.
"I get to ride on an airplane!" Bobby shouted.
A slight smile creased Sally's lips.
"I've already bought the plane tickets, including the one for your mother. You'll have to pack soon because we leave on Wednesday morning."
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?"
"Because this all came together yesterday. Just be happy, Sally." Don said.
"I am happy."
He looked down at his watch. Don stood up, walked over to the TV and spun the dial, turning it off.
"Get your coats, we've got to go."
"Why don't we just sleep over here until we leave? You can drive us!" Bobby said.
"Because your mother misses you. Now go get Gene. If you're quiet, he might stay asleep. Put him in the buggy." He instructed Sally.
Phelps Hospital
Sleepy Hollow, New York
June 7th, 1964 - 4:15PM
Betty Francis pulled her Lincoln Continental up to visitor parking at Sleepy Hollow Hospital, and began doing her lipstick in the car. She dropped down the visor, and applied it liberally, checking the rest of her makeup, and dealing with a few stray hairs out of place. She closed the visor, exited the car, and walked up the path leading to the entrance doors. As she was approaching the door, it opened.
Henry Francis stood in the jamb, a wide grin on his face.
"You look beautiful today." He said as she approached. "Thought I'd catch you on the way out."
"I'm impressed." She said.
"It's harder than it looks." He said. "Never thought I'd say that. I discharged myself, by the way."
He let the door go, and took calculated steps forward. With each carefully placed move, he was closer to his wife. He kissed her.
"Thanks for picking me up."
"Of course." She said, holding her arm out for him.
"I've got this." Henry said, turning down the path towards the parking lot. His first steps were quick. He walked as a child; heel first, then toe. Betty walked beside him, looking down to his feet.
"See? I could have come home Friday. Wasted time." He beamed. As the steps progressed, he became slightly uneasy and slowed down, gathering focus. Towards the edge of the parking lot, he misstepped, rolling his ankle on the edge of the sidewalk and falling on to the grass.
"Henry!" Betty shouted. She ran over, leaning down beside him. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine." He huffed. "I wasn't watching. That would have happened to anyone."
"Do we need to take you back?"
"For god's sake, no!" He shouted. "Help me up."
Betty leaned down, grabbing his arm, and pulling firmly as he stood back up. Henry steadied himself with his arms, and then began walking slowly.
"I'm lucky. My ankle doesn't hurt." He said.
"You should be using the cane Dr. Crenshaw gave you. It will help—"
"I don't need that stupid cane. Can you just open the door?"
Betty walked around the Lincoln and opened the passenger door for Henry, who slid inside, grabbing his right leg to prop it up in the footwell. She walked back around to the driver's side and got in, starting the car.
"You need to be careful." Betty said. "You've come all this way, and it would be a pity if you ruined it in the first ten minutes by being a show-off."
"I've been stuck in a hospital for 6 months. The only people I see are 20 years my senior and we move at the same speed. Nothing ages you quite like that."
"Well you're coming home now." Betty turned the corner. "Things are… finally getting back to normal."
"Thank god too. I was questioning my sanity at the end there."
Betty smiled at him.
"Are the kids coming home tonight?" Henry asked.
"Don's dropping them off around 8:00, I think."
"Good. We'll have some time alone this evening."
Betty stayed silent, looking out the window at traffic.
"We'll you're awfully quiet." Henry turned. "You're not happy?"
"Of course I am. I'm sorry, my mind is wandering."
"That's alright. I hope I haven't disappointed you. I've felt horrible leaving you at home. I'm just glad Nancy was there to help with the children."
"She has been good. It's nice not always having to have an eye on them." Betty said.
"Maybe we'll hire her full time as a nanny."
"No, I've already terminated her services. The children need their mother, not a stand-in 20-something."
"Alright." He said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes down Broadway, which turned into the Nine North through Rockefeller State Park.
"It feels like I was in there for 20 years." Henry started. "I called Nelly this morning. He says I can come back whenever I'm ready. I told him I could start as early as Tuesday."
"I was hoping you'd take the week off, I have something I want to talk about."
"Oh?"
Betty reached into her purse and lit a cigarette. She snapped the lighter shut.
"Don wants to take the children to California this week." She smoked. "From Wednesday morning to Sunday."
"Why's he doing that?" Henry pressed a button and the window rolled down.
"He's meeting a client. And he wants to take the children to the beach, show them around."
"I don't see why not."
"He wants… me to go along. To babysit Sally, Bobby and Gene while he's in client meetings."
"What?" Henry faced his wife. "You aren't serious."
"We wouldn't be in the same hotel. He would drop off the children for the meetings and pick them up afterwards."
"Absolutely out of the question." Henry said. "He's got some nerve asking that of you."
Betty said nothing. He looked over at her.
"You want to go!" He snapped. "I just get home, out of the hospital, and you want to leave to go to California with your ex-husband."
"I would be going with our children to California, to make sure they have time with their father. I would hardly see Don."
"Betty, you cannot be this naive. He's manipulating you. He could hire a day-nanny, or use the hotel's services for child minding."
"I don't like those services. They have no incentive to do anything other than sit inside and watch television all day."
Henry reached over and grabbed Betty's hand.
"Dear, you need to open your eyes. He's just trying to weasel his way back into your life long enough to fool you. He plays Dad only so long as it benefits him. All he needs to do is prove to Sally, and Bobby, that he's good for two minutes while you're watching and the whole world falls at his feet. He's just using you. It's in his nature."
Betty smoked, rolling down the window a crack to exhale.
"Do you have anything to say?" Henry said, letting go of her hand.
"What do you want me to say? I hate him? There. Are you happy now?" Betty said coolly.
"No, I want you to wake up. Hate's a very strong word." He paused. "Do you still love him? Is that why you're blind to him? Perhaps we got married too soon. I think—"
"How dare you say that to me." Betty mumbled.
"What?"
"How dare you say that about our marriage." She jumped her tone. "As if I'm some child, who doesn't understand personal sacrifice."
"I never said that—"
"Yes you did. I know you think I'm a silly fool; your mother certainly does. She has nothing but contempt for me. And now you're saying such things about our marriage."
"I'm not trying to aggravate you, Betty. I don't want you getting hurt. I love you." Henry grabbed her hand once again. "Ignore my mother. She's just insufferable sometimes."
Betty flicked her ash into the chrome tray, popped open on her armrest.
"I know how to take care of myself." She smoked again, and added, " If it upsets you so,why don't you come with me? We'll take the kids together. We can expense the room to Don."
Henry looked out the windshield. They were pulling into Ossining now, driving towards Pleasantville Road.
"Alright." He said.
"Alright?"
"Tell Don we'll both come. Are you happy now?"
"I just want to settle back into my life." She said. "I'm not trying to win."
"It seems like it." Henry watched the houses on the boulevard pass by. "It doesn't matter. We'll get away to California. I'll tell Nelly I can start at the beginning of next week."
"It will be a lovely time away." She said stoically.
The great black car pulled down Bullet Park Road. They approached the house slowly. Henry snapped his view to the road.
"That looks like James' car."
The Lincoln pulled up behind a baby blue 1959 Chevy Impala. It was parked out front of 42 Bullet Park Road.
"Is James here?" Henry asked.
"Why would James be here?" Betty exited the car quickly, shoving her cigarette butt into the ashtray and snapped it closed. Henry opened the door, leaning out and steadying himself using the door. He reached out for his wife's arm and stood still briefly before beginning to walk over the grass and up the path to the house.
"We need to find a place of our own." Henry said.
As they approached the front door, it swung open suddenly. Henry recoiled.
"Surprise!" A loud shout came from inside the house.
There were balloons tied to the walls; a banner hung from the opening into the dining room. It said "Welcome Home." James walked up to Henry who stood in the egress silently.
"Well? Are you gonna say anything, Dad?" James outstretched his hand to shake his fathers.
"Yes…" Henry hesitated. "I didn't expect this."
"That's the point of a surprise." Annette said placidly. She approached Henry, kissing him on the cheek cordially. "We're glad to have you home."
Betty smiled. Henry looked over to her.
"You arranged this?" He said, stepping into the entrance hall.
"Yes, since last week. I'm lucky everyone could come on short notice."
"Hello Henry dear." Pauline said from behind the dining room wall. She was seated at the table.
"Hello, mother." Henry said. "I'm surprised you came."
"Nonsense." She said. "Why would I miss my son returning home? I've barely seen you."
Pauline stood up and approached her son, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"I'm glad you're alright. It was nice of Elizabeth to set this up." Pauline sat back down at the dining room table. Henry took a moment to analyze the room. There was a cart filled with finger sandwiches in the corner and plates laid out at the table. He could see scraps of food were already littered on some of them.
"What's the matter, Dad?" James said from behind. He walked past his father and took his plate from the table, getting food from the cart.
"I'm just a little shocked. It's nice to see everyone." Henry sat down at the table with one of the empty plates. "Get me one of those." He instructed his son.
Betty walked into the hall and hung her coat on the rack. She looked at herself in the mirror, pouting her red lips. She walked into the dining room, sitting next to Henry and James on the opposite side.
"Where are the children?" Pauline asked.
"They're with their father." Betty said.
"Oh. I thought they would be here to greet Henry."
"They will be coming home in a few hours and spending time with us. Don needs his time with them."
"Yes. I had just assumed an exception could be made…"
"Mother." Henry interjected.
"What? It was simply a question. I have a right to know what's going on with my grandchildren."
"What's done is done." Henry said. "They're coming tonight. They visited in the hospital."
"I see." Pauline finished.
A few of Henry's work colleagues arrived at the house with their wives, along with Hanson family, and Dr. Wayne. The small gathering turned into a party, and soon branches of people milled around at Bullet Park Road. Henry and Betty stood in the hall greeting them as they arrived. The party continued over the next few hours. Henry began relaxing his shoulders once he had a tumbler of scotch.
There was a brief lull in the party where Betty retreated to the kitchen, which was vacant, followed by Henry.
"Well done, dear." Henry said. "It seems you managed to impress the great Pauline Francis."
"I can make a great hostess." Betty reached up into the cabinet above the ovens and pulled down a bottle of red wine. She poured herself and Henry a glass. She raised it. "To your return."
Henry grabbed the opposing glass, chiming them together.
"This is what I wanted all along."
Betty sipped the wine.
"What do you mean?"
"I wanted to spend some time with my wife. Have a glass of wine, relax."
"So, you're not pleased with this, then?"
"I never said that."
Betty drank more wine.
"I prepared this whole thing so you'd feel welcomed home."
"And I appreciate it." Henry walked over and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Thank you for doing this. I don't mean to seem ungrateful."
Betty placed her glass down on the counter. Henry moved swiftly. He kissed her intensely, wrapping his arm around her back, and pulling her into his chest. Betty kissed him back, the smell of red wine filled her nostrils. Henry held her firmly in his grasp. He kissed her more voraciously. Hungrily moving to her neckline, he moved his mouth up and down her jugular vein. Betty closed her eyes, drifting off in his embrace. She went back briefly in time.
"I wish you were waiting for me…" Henry said, standing in the hall of Roger Sterling's house. Betty turned to see his handsome brazen face. She brushed him off with a coy smile.
"So… who are you waiting for?" He pressed.
"A friend." Betty replied curtly. Silence.
"What is that like?" Henry looked down to Gene, who was still in her womb.
"I don't know. I don't think about it. Right now, it's uncomfortable mostly."
"But it moves around in there."
"It does."
Henry stumbled momentarily.
"I'm going to blame this on the martinis but, may I?" He extended his hand briefly towards her womb.
Betty exhaled slowly, coming out from the memory. The blood rushed to her cheeks and they shone red. She moaned lightly.
Suddenly the rear door opened to the house. Henry recoiled off his wife, spinning around to face the laundry room. Pushing in the door with his foot, Don let his children into the room. Sally threw her duffle pack onto the washing machine and unbuttoned her coat, placing it on the rack. She yelped as she noticed her mother and stepfather watching her only a few feet away.
"You scared me!" She said.
"Sally, don't be melodramatic." Betty huffed. Sally marched into the kitchen, walking past Henry and moving to the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of milk and reached for a glass.
"Are you not going to greet your stepfather and welcome him home?"
"Hello Henry." Sally said, looking up to him, smiling, and then pouring her milk. "Glad you're back."
"Hi Henry." Bobby said, standing near him. "You're okay now?"
"Yes, I should say so. I feel much better."
Bobby smiled, gave Henry a momentary hug, and then walked towards the dining room.
"Sandwiches!" he hollered as he saw the tray in the corner. Gene was in the crook of Don's arm, quietly observing the world around him.
"Why didn't you knock at the front door?" Betty asked.
"Didn't want to disturb the party." He moved into the kitchen, placing his hat on the counter and then gave Gene to Betty. Don walked over to Sally, who was drinking her milk. He kissed her on the forehead.
"Tell Bobby I'll see you both on Wednesday."
"Okay Dad." Sally mumbled. Don walked past Henry, reached up into the liquor cabinet, and withdrew a bottle of Lamb's navy rum. He snuck a tumbler from the shelf and filled it halfway.
"Make yourself at home." Henry said, leaning against the sink.
"This is my home." Don said, staring at Henry while drinking the rum. He placed the tumbler on the counter once it was empty. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out 3 tickets, tossing them onto the kitchen island.
"I'll be around to pick you and the kids up at 7:30."
"There's no need." Henry said. "I can drive them to the airport, as I will be joining them."
No one moved for a moment. Betty looked intently at Don. She scanned his lips and eyes.
"Alright. Give me the receipt for your ticket. I'll see you in California." Don picked up his fedora and placed it onto his head. "I have a meeting from noon to 2:00 on Wednesday. I'll come by the hotel afterwards."
"Goodbye, Don." Henry said.
Don moved out the rear door of the house. Sally put her empty glass into the sink.
"Why are you coming?" Sally asked Henry.
"Sally." Betty spat.
"Because I want to spend time with you, Bobby, Gene, and your mother. Is that a crime?" Henry retorted. At that moment Pauline entered the kitchen.
"Ah." She trumpeted. "I see the children are here now."
Sally sped into the hallway from the other kitchen entrance and disappeared.
"Where is she going?" Pauline asked.
"She's exhausted." Betty said. "It's been a long day."
Pauline huffed, turned up her head, and walked into the family room. Lights lit up in the driveway behind Betty and Henry, and a low rumble droned in the night.
"Do you see what I mean with your mother?" Betty whispered.
"I'll be right back." Henry said. He stepped out the back door, walking smoothly towards Don's Cadillac. He took intentional steps, watching where the pavement ended in his peripheral vision. Don dropped down the window upon his approach. Henry leaned against the sill of the car window.
"I know what you're doing." Henry said.
Don sat silently.
"It won't work. She's smarter than that now."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You did this to yourself. You could be the one going to bed with her tonight. You wasted your chance."
"Goodnight Henry." Don put his foot onto the brake and shifted the car into reverse. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and began lighting it as he released the brake.
"It'll never work." Henry raised his voice slightly. "She's moved on now. She sees us for who we really are."
Don sailed out of the driveway. Henry stood still where he was, watching the Cadillac pull away and drive up the street. Betty walked up beside him, leaning against his shoulder.
"What were you talking about?"
"Arrangements for the week." Henry said. "We came to an understanding."
Nancy's Apartment
Interstate 9 and Van Cortlandt Avenue,
Ossining, New York
June 7th, 1964 - 8:55 PM
"Oh my god that was good." Nancy whispered.
Don had arrived shortly after 8:30, and immediately they moved from the doorway to the bedroom. There was no contest from Nancy; she expected it. Their foray had gone as expected.
She brought her lips to Don's, and kissed him excitedly. He kissed her, taking time to look into her eyes. Nancy crawled off of him afterwards, and laid down, sprawling her legs over his.
He thought of Betty. Their months of lovemaking and their relationship. While Nancy was climbing the ladder of their encounter to its peak, Don's gaze was stuck on the night sky outside his window. His mind wandered to Henry's comments as he pulled out of the driveway earlier in the evening.
"I think I owe you a returned favour." She grinned, running her hand slowly down his chest.
"No need." He said, resting his arm over her shoulder. "I have to go soon anyway."
"You aren't even staying the night?" She huffed, peering over Don's shoulder to look at the clock. "It's barely nine o'clock."
"I have work tomorrow."
"Do you suddenly have a bedtime?" Nancy paused. "I thought you dropped the kids off with Bitchy tonight."
Don leaned over to face her.
"I did, and that's why I could come here."
"So then stay. I'll make you breakfast in the morning. You can leave from here."
"I really do need to go." He leaned over, kissing her once further on the forehead, and then slinking out of the bed.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm taking this a lot more seriously than you are?"
"What do you mean?" He said, sliding on his undergarments and throwing his cotton shirt over his shoulders.
"I want to be with you. Now that I'm done with your obnoxious ex-wife, we can be together."
Don began buttoning his shirt. He remained silent.
"So you don't want the same." Nancy pulled the duvet over herself.
"I never said that."
"Your eyes said it." She paused. "I'm such an idiot."
"Stop." Don sat down on the bed beside her, taking her hand into his. "I'm not ready. I… I need time. To consider things."
"What is there to consider? Do you want me or not?"
He thought.
"Yes, I want you."
"Then why are you going home? Why do you always leave right afterwards? I feel like some cheap whore."
"Don't say that. If I wanted a whore, I could find one. I don't."
"Then be with me." She protested.
"It's not that easy." Don stood, going into the bathroom and replacing his trousers. "I have my children to think about."
"And I love them." Nancy said from the bed. "Sally loves me. She tells me everything."
"What has she told you?" Don questioned.
"Well, she's certainly not fond of your ex-wife or Mr. Francis."
Don smirked.
"What does she say about me?"
"Not much. Well, just that there's always something going on with you. I see what she means."
Don looked out the window into the pale moonlight. The streets were solemn and quiet.
"She loves you. In the way most 10-year-old girls love their father." Nancy continued.
"I'll take what I can get."
After replacing his tie and socks, he exited the bathroom.
"Am I dreaming?" Nancy said.
"What?"
"Am I dreaming, Don? Is this all we are? All we're ever going to be?"
He paused pensively. "What I do know is that you're mine for now, and that's important to me."
Nancy smiled.
"Good." She stood up, slipping out from under the duvet. She walked over and pressed herself into him, running her arms around his back and nuzzling her face into his chest.
"I owe you one." She rubbed his back.
"You can pay me back Tuesday evening. A goodbye present. I leave for California on Wednesday."
"I love the palm trees and the sun soaked boulevards. I could be your model as we walk on the beach." She looked up, right underneath his chin.
Don kissed her.
"It's a work trip. It's never as glamorous as it seems."
"Ahh." She scoffed. "Fine. When are you back?"
Don pulled away from her embrace. He reached down for his black Oxfords and slipped them on either foot, doing up the small laces.
"Sunday evening. I'll call you when I get back in."
"Okay."
As he stood, she kissed him, and ran her hand down the front of his trousers.
"Don't miss me too much." She batted her eyes.
