wasn’t unusual to hear polka music coming from a passing car or truck. In California they called it banda music, the familiar polka beat having migrated into Mexico in the eighteen hundreds from German settlements in Texas.
Rudy’s work-worn fingers moved quickly across the keys, and he opened and closed the bellows as he had for the last seventy years, as his father had taught him before leaving European soil. A blanket of melancholy threatened Karen. When the notes finally faded, Lorraine nudged her. “I think I heard your phone.”
Karen checked the display and called voicemail. Steve sounded upset, so she slipped into the back bedroom and called him at work.
“We need to list the house,” he said without preamble.
“I’m fine, thanks, and you?”
“Sorry. I’ve been trying to call you for the past day and you haven’t answered.”
“And now that I have, I find you’re calling to kick me out of our house.” She felt her pulse accelerate, readying for battle.
“Look,” he said, his tone softer, “I know you’re pissed, and I’ve told you a million times that I’m sorry. But let’s be practical. Sell it to me and we can skip the realtors and save ourselves a bundle.”
Her fingernails gouged half-moons into her palms as she pictured his new family in her house. The cul-de-sac, the multiple bedrooms, the pool–it would be a perfect nest. Just not for her.
“The upkeep is a bitch,” he said. “You don’t like the house anyway. This is your big chance to buy something more to your liking, and I can make you a generous offer.”
“You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”
“What difference does it make?”
“None, but I want to know.” She could picture him, head bent, fingers pinching the skin between his eyebrows.
“Drama doesn’t help.”
“Tell me,” she said. “When did you decide to go out and get a new life, Steve? When did you decide to get rid of your old wife and impregnate some kid?”
“She’s not a kid. She’s thirty-two.”
“Oh, fuck. You could be her father.”
“Come on, Karen.”
“So I just want to know, when exactly did you decide to obliterate our marriage?” She was shouting at him in a frantic whisper, pride gone, futility no object. “I want to know when, because I want to try to remember what I was doing when you were fooling around with Miss Thirty-Two. Or did you decide before that, with the red head? Or the brunette?”
“You’re hysterical.”
“Are you all right?” Lorraine stood in the bedroom doorway.
“Fine.”
Lorraine leaned into the phone. “Tell the asshole I said hi.”
“Very nice, Karen. Way to make your whole family hate me.”
“You deserve it.” Karen hung up. She reached a hand out to Lorraine, who pulled Karen to her feet.
“You’ll be fine, Cuz.”
Karen wiped the tears away with both hands. “I know.”
“Want me to tell them you don’t feel good?”
“No, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Lorraine closed the door, and Karen closed her eyes. She’d known about Steve’s women, but they were biennial blips that faded away, whereas she and Steve had hung together through miscarriages and parental deaths and that breast cancer scare a few years ago. Their marriage endured even as they grew apart, and Karen had taken this to mean that, while the gloss was gone, the foundation was strong. That’s what she saw with her mom and dad’s marriage, and she assumed that was how it would be for hers.
She noticed the distance between them, but figured adults grew apart as they matured. There was nothing wrong with pursuing your own interests. Both of them were workaholics–that’s what attracted them to each other in the first place. If Karen had to work late yet again, she knew Steve was self-sufficient. No matter what happened, she and Steve would be together until death. They would make the best of things.
But then, about a year ago, she noticed he was on the computer long after she went
Rudy’s work-worn fingers moved quickly across the keys, and he opened and closed the bellows as he had for the last seventy years, as his father had taught him before leaving European soil. A blanket of melancholy threatened Karen. When the notes finally faded, Lorraine nudged her. “I think I heard your phone.”
Karen checked the display and called voicemail. Steve sounded upset, so she slipped into the back bedroom and called him at work.
“We need to list the house,” he said without preamble.
“I’m fine, thanks, and you?”
“Sorry. I’ve been trying to call you for the past day and you haven’t answered.”
“And now that I have, I find you’re calling to kick me out of our house.” She felt her pulse accelerate, readying for battle.
“Look,” he said, his tone softer, “I know you’re pissed, and I’ve told you a million times that I’m sorry. But let’s be practical. Sell it to me and we can skip the realtors and save ourselves a bundle.”
Her fingernails gouged half-moons into her palms as she pictured his new family in her house. The cul-de-sac, the multiple bedrooms, the pool–it would be a perfect nest. Just not for her.
“The upkeep is a bitch,” he said. “You don’t like the house anyway. This is your big chance to buy something more to your liking, and I can make you a generous offer.”
“You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”
“What difference does it make?”
“None, but I want to know.” She could picture him, head bent, fingers pinching the skin between his eyebrows.
“Drama doesn’t help.”
“Tell me,” she said. “When did you decide to go out and get a new life, Steve? When did you decide to get rid of your old wife and impregnate some kid?”
“She’s not a kid. She’s thirty-two.”
“Oh, fuck. You could be her father.”
“Come on, Karen.”
“So I just want to know, when exactly did you decide to obliterate our marriage?” She was shouting at him in a frantic whisper, pride gone, futility no object. “I want to know when, because I want to try to remember what I was doing when you were fooling around with Miss Thirty-Two. Or did you decide before that, with the red head? Or the brunette?”
“You’re hysterical.”
“Are you all right?” Lorraine stood in the bedroom doorway.
“Fine.”
Lorraine leaned into the phone. “Tell the asshole I said hi.”
“Very nice, Karen. Way to make your whole family hate me.”
“You deserve it.” Karen hung up. She reached a hand out to Lorraine, who pulled Karen to her feet.
“You’ll be fine, Cuz.”
Karen wiped the tears away with both hands. “I know.”
“Want me to tell them you don’t feel good?”
“No, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Lorraine closed the door, and Karen closed her eyes. She’d known about Steve’s women, but they were biennial blips that faded away, whereas she and Steve had hung together through miscarriages and parental deaths and that breast cancer scare a few years ago. Their marriage endured even as they grew apart, and Karen had taken this to mean that, while the gloss was gone, the foundation was strong. That’s what she saw with her mom and dad’s marriage, and she assumed that was how it would be for hers.
She noticed the distance between them, but figured adults grew apart as they matured. There was nothing wrong with pursuing your own interests. Both of them were workaholics–that’s what attracted them to each other in the first place. If Karen had to work late yet again, she knew Steve was self-sufficient. No matter what happened, she and Steve would be together until death. They would make the best of things.
But then, about a year ago, she noticed he was on the computer long after she went
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