Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,44
on the forsythia in their carefully tended gardens. Sunny kept her face turned away from the bags of garbage, heaped layers deep, that lined the curb. The trucks had not yet arrived to pick up the trash. Another change from the neat plastic or metal cans that sat at the end of the driveways in her childhood suburban home. The acrid odor couldn’t be good for Rachel. She always worried about disease when the pungent smell entered her nostrils.
Sunny held her daughter’s hand tighter as she crossed the road to escape the offending litter. Brick prewar buildings lined the street. Most were six or seven stories high, with an occasional restaurant or store on the street level. Her own apartment building was one of the highest in the neighborhood, at twelve stories. But neighborhoods in Manhattan were strange. Just one or two blocks away, their character changed completely. So unlike the sameness of Byron, its streets lined with simple ranches and the occasional two-story, the lawns carefully manicured, the backyards fenced because even in the Midwest one had to be careful the toddlers didn’t run out into the streets even though the drivers were always cautious.
“Look, Rachel, Billy’s at the park.” They were just steps from the entrance to the playground. When Rachel saw her friend, she dropped her mother’s hand and ran to him, plopping herself next to him in the sandlot. Sunny strolled over to Billy’s mother, Ellen, and sat next to her on the bench.
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Ellen said as she smiled at Sunny. “Didn’t you say you were meeting Eric for lunch?”
“We are, but it’s so lovely out that I left a few chores for later so we could get some fresh air first.”
“I know how you feel. I couldn’t wait to get outside today. It almost feels like spring.”
“Well, it is spring.”
“Yeah, the calendar says it’s spring, but in New York, spring is about five days in May. Before then it’s cool and rainy, and after it’s hot and steamy. We don’t get too many gorgeous days like this.”
Her eyes closed, Sunny bent her head back and let the sun stream over her face. On a day like this, sitting among the greenery of the park, it almost felt like being back home. She could hear peals of laughter coming from her daughter, and the sound brought a smile to her face. Yes, having Rachel made everything worthwhile.
“Have you heard about MaryLou?” Ellen asked. “She walked in on Stephen in bed with a young floozy. She was supposed to be at the theater, but she must have eaten something rotten at lunch because she felt so sick she left during intermission.”
Ellen was a notorious gossipmonger, a neighborhood busybody who thrived on scandal and could prattle nonstop. The drone of her voice melded into a sonorous hum as soothing as the white noise of an air conditioner. Sunny knew she didn’t need to respond. A few grunts here and there would suffice.
“Stephen just looked at her and said, ‘You’re home early.’ Can you imagine that? He didn’t even try to hide the girl or make some lame apology. Well, you know the rumor’s always been that MaryLou had her own flings on the side, so maybe she got what she deserved. I heard she bedded the boy who delivers her groceries from Gristedes. He brings me my groceries, too, and he’s adorable, but my God, he can’t be more than 18!”
Sunny opened her eyes and looked for Rachel. Her daughter was still happily ensconced in the sand with her little friend. As she glanced toward the entrance to the park, she saw Ralph approach with his daughter, Brianna. The brief flutter of her heart unnerved her, but she caught herself. In the past, she’d felt foolish around Ralph, stammering her responses to his polite conversation. But she was better now, able to smile and be composed without betraying the nervousness she always felt in his presence.
“Morning, ladies,” he said as he approached their park bench. “Have room for me?” Brianna ran off to join the other children as Ralph squeezed onto the end of the wooden seat. “Hard to stay indoors and paint on a day like this.”
“When’s your show?” Ellen asked.
“Opening is two weeks from tomorrow. But I’m set for the show, I’ve just got to pack up the canvases and get them to the gallery. There’s some new stuff I’m experimenting with now. That’s what’s keeping me busy. Never too