In Laymon's Terms

Brian Freeman

VERYONE MAKES MISTAKES, a truth Patty knew all too well from her lifetime of experience, which was why she believed in the power of forgiving and forgetting when a wrong had been committed against her.

She even told this to the women at the rundown motel where she had been staying lately, but she didn’t think they understood. Not that it mattered. She would never go back there or see those people in that terrible part of the city again. The motel was loud and dirty and everyone was rude. The walls were made of dirty cinderblock and her neighbors were so dangerous all of the windows had metal bars on them.

Patty had never been in such an appalling place before, and she loved God and she loved her husband, which was why she had to get away from there as fast as she could. She was relieved she would never have to go back again. Today she would forgive Roger and then they would begin their new life together.

“Everything will be better now,” Patty stated, trying to stay focused on her goals while she drove. “I understand what we did wrong and I’ve learned from our mistakes.”

The noise of the city hammered Patty as she slowed the rental car to a stop at one of the many busy intersections between her and the suburbs. The summer day would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been trapped in the middle of the polluted city. A tractor-trailer roared past, horn blaring, engine snarling, black puffs of smoke spitting out of the chrome pipes behind the cab as the driver ran the red light.

While Patty waited for the light to change, she made sure the large bottle of cheap champagne was still upright on the seat next to her, and then she pulled a compact from the side pocket of her new purse. The price sticker and bar code were still affixed to the bottom of the peach-colored plastic shell.

Her tight white dress was also brand new, as were the red bra and panties and the high-heeled shoes. She had never dressed like this before in her life. She wondered what her mother would say. Then Patty pushed the thought from her mind.

She flipped the compact open and checked her makeup, lipstick, and hair in the tiny mirror. She felt so much older now. Dark lines had formed under her eyes and wrinkles were carving niches in her skin. All of the emotional turmoil had done this to her, she realized.

Could be worse, Patty thought, returning the compact to her purse. The stoplight was still red. She checked the large bottle of champagne again—she wasn’t used to having alcohol in the car and she was afraid a police officer might see it—and then she opened the glove compartment and reached for a tiny bottle of perfume called Noix Cheres, which she had purchased especially for tonight.

The perfume cost her over $50 and she knew Roger would kill her if he discovered she had spent so much on so little. She was terrified she might somehow lose the bottle, too. After leaving the fancy store, Patty had hidden the bottle behind the assorted collection of paperwork in the glove compartment. She felt relief when she confirmed the perfume hadn’t moved.

Patty hoped Roger would like the scent. He was always looking out for her, trying to make her happy and keep her safe, and she knew she needed to be more aware of his needs if their relationship was to stay strong. Yes, there had been some problems lately, but she now realized those problems weren’t all Roger’s fault. During the time she had spent in the rundown motel, she had begun to see the world differently.

“Tonight I’ll make up for lost time,” Patty said as she liberally sprayed the Noix Cheres onto her neck. The perfume smelled like spoiled fish to her, but the saleslady had said the scent was perfect for an evening of romance. The lady had said the perfume was divine.

The light changed and someone behind Patty honked. Patty raised her middle finger—something else she had never done before in her entire life—and then she headed home, not looking back.

An hour later Patty slowed to a stop in front of the two-story colonial house deep in the heart of the suburbs. The street was tree-lined and the sidewalks were decorated with children’s chalk drawings. The kids playing around the neighborhood always made Patty a little sad since she and Roger could never have a baby due to his incredibly low sperm count.

The proper lawns were dotted with trimmed shrubs and beautiful gardens for as far as the eye could see. Everything looked so much more alive than when she left. So much more beautiful.

Patty realized she really was seeing life differently now. She checked her watch and smiled.

“Perfect!” She had at least an hour until Roger came home from work. The champagne bottle would be chilled when he arrived and she was positive the evening was going to work out exactly as she had dreamed.

Patty got out of the car and stepped onto the lawn. The grass was green and soft. She loved her home and her yard and her neighborhood. She never wanted to leave again.

She approached the front door and shifted the bottle of champagne under her arm. Then, as she reached for the doorknob, she stopped dead in her tracks, her hand freezing in midair as her mind processed what she had just realized. She didn’t have her keys!

If Patty couldn’t get inside the house, her plans would be ruined. She wasn’t even sure when or where she had lost the keys, but it had probably happened that dreadful day when she fled from the house, her mind full of confusion and anger.

Everything about those events was a painful blur, and Patty pushed the awful memories away again. She had to forgive and forget, she reminded herself. The past was the past and the only way to move on with her life was to accept the mistakes people sometimes make.

Patty suppressed the growing panic that threatened to ruin her plans, took a deep breath, and walked through the garden to the back of the house, her shoes leaving a trail in the brown mulch. A large hedge wrapped around the lawn, guarding the property line. A tall oak tree towered above her like a sentinel, the thick branches shaking in the breeze. The cool air felt good on such a warm summer day.

Just as Patty expected, the sliding glass door at the rear of the house wasn’t locked. She slid the door open and stepped into the house, the bottle of champagne gripped tightly in her hand. Cool air washed across her sweaty skin.

The white linoleum in the kitchen was spotless and the ceiling fan turned in slow, clockwise movements. Next to the microwave was a wooden block that held seven specialty knives. The knife set was new, which Patty found to be a curious development. Was it a surprise gift to her from Roger? Had he already come to the same conclusion she had about their future?

Patty had always wanted a knife set like that, had pointed them out to Roger a million times, but she quickly forgot about the knives when she noticed an even more dramatic change in the kitchen: the brand new Kenmore refrigerator!

Patty crossed the kitchen, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. She had wanted a new refrigerator since they first moved into the house so many years ago! But then Patty stopped again, a frown forming on her tired face and deepening the creases in her skin.

On the door of the refrigerator were comic strips and newspaper clippings and “honey do” lists held in place by a wide variety of magnets. Some of the magnets were shaped like animals, others like clouds, and still others like fruits and vegetables. One was from a grocery store chain she had never heard of before.

None of these magnets and collected pieces of paper belonged to Patty. “Who are you?” a woman asked from the doorway to the dining room. “What are you doing here?”

Patty spun around, the champagne bottle slipping from her hand, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter and shattering. Patty and the other woman both cried out in surprise as the liquid inside the bottle sprayed across the room like a foamy wave breaking on the beach. A long moment passed and neither woman moved, as if they were statues frozen in time.

“Who are you?” the woman asked again. Then she laughed nervously. She was much younger than Patty, with blonde hair and blue eyes and long legs barely concealed by a sexy red dress, as if she had been preparing for a night out on the town. The woman reminded Patty of the slutty girls she had known in her college days, back when she met Roger for the first time. She had seen how he looked at those girls.

“I think the question is, who are you?” Patty asked, glancing down at the pieces of glass shimmering in the bath of champagne. A cold block of ice filled her stomach, forming a tight knot of nervousness and anger.

“My name is Sally.” The woman’s voice was a little less harsh this time, showing a hint of concern. “Are you okay, hon? What are you doing here?”

“I live here with Roger. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. You must be confused,” the woman said. “This is my house.”

Suddenly Patty realized who this woman was, who this woman had to be. The whore! The goddamned whore who had seduced her husband! Patty looked at the broken bottle and the spilled champagne pooling on the linoleum; the rage she had been suppressing for a lifetime boiled over, melting the block of ice in her gut. The nervous panic burned away, replaced by anger and bitterness.

Patty turned to the wooden block on the counter and selected the largest knife. Then she turned and took a step toward the woman, kicking the base of the broken champagne bottle across the kitchen with a loud thump.

“No, wait a minute,” the woman cried out as she backed into the dining room, raising her hands. “What are you doing?”

As Patty moved forward, she remembered the events of a day much like this one many, many years ago, when she came home early from work to surprise Roger but he surprised her instead: Roger and that woman from down the street, doing terrible things on the kitchen floor like animals in heat. Patty remembered her anger and confusion...and the endless river of blood splattering everywhere.

Now Patty was home again and those horrible sights rose before her eyes, overwhelming her, sending her back to that terrible day. She saw every little detail and she had to do something to make the two heathens stop. She had to stop them again!

The woman named Sally, now backed into a corner, said: “Please don’t hurt me! Please listen!”

But Patty couldn’t listen. She just wanted to make Roger and the awful woman pay for what they were doing. The terrible whore! The whore-husband! It was all too awful and Patty just wanted Roger to come to his senses, to understand what his love meant to her.

Patty accepted that everyone made mistakes, so she just had to help Roger understand the mistake he was making. Forgiveness was love, love was forgiveness, and she loved him so goddamned much. Why couldn’t he just understand that?

Patty raised the knife above her head and prepared to show her husband how much she loved him—and she would keep showing him as long as it took for him to understand that her love was endless and eternal.

She would love him again and again, and she would never, ever stop.