Standing Room Only

Home > Other > Standing Room Only > Page 9
Standing Room Only Page 9

by Heidi Mastrogiovanni


  “Sometimes it’s just easier to not think about certain things,” Lala said. “Sometimes, and I know this sounds counter-intuitive, but sometimes it’s less lonely to have a boyfriend who lives thousands of miles away. Because you can’t really miss them and obsess about them dying, because they’re kind of not really there anyway.”

  The subject of the lunchtime discussion, up until a moment before Lala’s pronouncement, had been selecting locations for the film.

  “Are you okay?” Zoe asked.

  “Seriously, is this the best tomato, brie—because I substituted brie for mozzarella—and olive tapenade on a baguette in the universe, or what? I’m great! Why?”

  “Because that was like your twelfth non sequitur today,” Eliza said. “And, no offense, but you look kinda weird. Not unattractive at all. Just weird.”

  “Oh, okay,” Lala said. “Hey, you know what happened to me yesterday? I was at the Beverly Center, and I wanted to check out a book at the Beverly Hills Library—which is ridiculously gorgeous, isn’t it—and so I walked there on Burton Way because I love the architecture on Burton Way, and it’s such a lovely, wide boulevard, it feels like you’re in Europe. And this guy driving a Bentley pulls up next to me as I’m walking and rolls down his window and says, ‘How much?’ And I look at him in utter and entirely understandable confusion and say, ‘Pardon?’ and he says, ‘How much? Nothing kinky, just straight missionary position.’ And I think I must be losing my mind and I say, with visible astonishment, ‘I’m not a hooker. I’m a pedestrian!’ The nerve of that guy, huh?”

  Zoe and Eliza were staring at Lala with what she was happy to recognize as sympathy and understanding. Lala smiled at their reaction, because she always loved it when people shared her outrage.

  “I don’t get it,” Eliza said. “Why were you walking?”

  “Why . . .? What do you mean why was I walking?”

  “You walked from the Beverly Center to the Beverly Hills Public Library?” Zoe said. “Why would you do that?”

  “Why are you both asking me why I walked?” Lala demanded. “It was a beautiful day. It’s a beautiful boulevard. Why wouldn’t I walk?”

  Zoe and Eliza looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “I can see why the guy was confused,” Eliza said.

  “Yeah,” Zoe agreed.

  “Are you kidding me?” Lala asked. “Didn’t you two walk when you were in college? Like, a lot. Across campus and everywhere else ’n’ stuff?”

  “Sure,” Zoe said.

  “Sure,” Eliza echoed. “But that was in Connecticut.”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said. “This is LA”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Lala huffed. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. Let’s get back to work.”

  Lala did her best to focus on the tasks at hand in the office for the rest of the day. She went to the gym after work, and when she got home Geraldine was tending to her lovely, drought-resistant garden that took up large swaths of the courtyard of the fourplex.

  “Are you okay?” she asked when Lala opened the front gate and entered.

  “I’m great!” Lala said. “Why?”

  “You look weird. Should I be worried about you?”

  “No, no, not at all.”

  Yes, Lala thought. You should.

  She gave her adopted auntie a big, reassuring hug and went upstairs to walk her dogs and then shower. David wasn’t home yet, and when he got home a few hours later, Lala was on the couch with the dogs working on a new idea she had for a novel that centered on a miserable old Siberian nun who is granted a dying wish by her Guardian Angel and ends up in Manhattan as a beautiful young model, but it’s not until the nun reforms the bitterness inside her so that her soul is as wonderful as her body that she finds love in the afterlife with the sexy angel.

  Love after death, Lala thought, just before she heard David’s key in the lock. I’m guessing I’m not going to be able to write about much of anything else for the foreseeable future. Well, I can only hope that I’ll be able to make it funny and charming.

  David walked into the living room, pushed their snoring beagle aside so he could sit next to Lala, and gave Lala a kiss. Then he took a second, more studied, look at her.

  “Are you okay?” David asked.

  “I’m great!” Lala said. “Why?”

  “You look a little weird. Not bad weird. Just not like yourself.”

  In the weeks that followed her demi-engagement, Lala did her best to distract herself and move forward in her future and not dwell in the past that she still missed so much. And, other than being asked by many people who knew her well or casually if she was okay and other than the adjective “weird” being applied to the way she looked a lot more than she would have liked, Lala was successful in staying focused and staying very busy. She put in extra hours and devoted extra energy to working on the film and to working on her new novel. The new novel involved lots of discarded drafts and lots of heavy-handed editing to remove “bathos, miles and miles of bathos,” but she kept at it, and she also put in her usual time at the gym, and she stuck to her willing determination to spend fun time with David, all of which had the happy side effect that when she got into bed every night she, after having wonderful sex with David which was just getting more and more delightful, fell sound asleep because she was too exhausted to be terrified.

  Lala could tell that Zoe and Eliza were continuing to be sensitive to her weirdness, and that her two lovely young colleagues were treating her with extra tenderness. And that touched her heart profoundly. She brought treats to the office every day, and got them little gifts, and bought them lunch every day and dinner too if they worked late, which they often did. And so as each week passed, Lala got used to her new state of generalized anxiety that had been the result of the prospect of being married again, to a wonderful man she loved.

  I should be on Say Yes to the Dress, Lala thought one morning at the office. Not just to pick out my dress, which would be way too much fun, but because they get widows on that show. They understand how difficult it is to move on. The ambivalence. The fear. They get it. Granted, I haven’t seen any widows quite as whacked out as I am on the show. But I feel sure they can deal with me. I’ll have to look into getting on that show. I’ll probably have an epic meltdown while they’re filming my episode. Which will make for great television.

  “Lala?” Zoe said.

  “Mmm?”

  Before Zoe could respond, the phone rang. Lala watched Eliza grab the receiver.

  “Were you doing another inner monologue just now?” Zoe asked.

  “Lala!” Eliza whispered fiercely. She had her hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver and a look of aroused terror in her eyes. “Clive Ellis is on the phone! For you!”

  “Why are we whispering?” Lala whispered.

  “He’s so cute!”

  “That’s why we’re whispering?” Lala said. “Because cute boys have super hearing?”

  She took the phone and patted Eliza’s hand with maternal affection.

  “Hi, Clive. ’Sup?”

  I sound like an idiot, Lala thought. ’Sup. Who says that anymore? I guess maybe I’m being a doofus because Eliza is right, because he really is quite cute.

  “Hey, Lala. I’ve been wanting to film the Paris scenes in Paris, right? Well, the director and I really want you to be there while we’re filming, right?”

  “Why am I getting the feeling that this is not a good idea?” Geraldine fretted.

  Lala had gotten home from the production office to find Geraldine sitting in the courtyard of the fourplex. Geraldine told Lala when she walked through the gate that Monty and David had gone to their favorite Chinese restaurant to get take-out so they could all enjoy dinner al fresco. Before Lala got home, Geraldine had brought Petunia and Eunice and Chester out to lounge in the sunshine with her. And now th
e two women and the three dogs were sitting together waiting for dinner, and Lala had just told Geraldine her incredibly exciting news.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Lala responded, sincerely and obliviously perplexed. She studied the goblet of sangria Geraldine had poured for her from a large pitcher Geraldine had whipped up following “a treasured family recipe, because my Bubbe Rachel lived in Mexico at the end of the Nineteenth Century and she knew how to make sangria.” Lala tried very hard to think of a reason why being on the set of her film in the City of Lights would be anything but delightful. “I love Paris. Terrence and I went to Paris on our honeymoon.”

  “Right! And you’re thinking of going there now and your new fiancé-to-be-your-fiancé—which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, and it makes you sound like a sorority girl during the era of the Cold War—can’t go with you because he’s scheduled to teach a class at UC Davis! There’s something off about that.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Lala said uncertainly. Her aunt’s frenzy was starting to have an effect on her enthusiasm, and she was not happy about that. “Damn, this sangria is insane. Your Bubbe Rachel must have been fierce. I wish I could have met her.”

  “Half your darn book takes place in Paris,” Geraldine grumbled.

  “More like two-thirds.”

  “Right!” Geraldine spat, aggressively grabbing the pitcher and refilling her niece’s glass. “You’ll be there forever! When will you and David start planning your wedding? My GOD, when are you getting officially engaged? What exactly is going ON here? Should I be worried about you?”

  Yes, Lala thought. Absolutely.

  “Of course not,” Lala said. “I’m great!”

  “Then when are you getting married?!” Geraldine wailed.

  “What’s the rush?” Lala said. She took a big gulp of sangria and giggled. “It’s not like we have to hurry to have kids before my biological clock tolls a death knell that would make Big Ben’s chiming sound like a whisper. He’s got grown kids and I don’t want to have kids. I want to follow in your gorgeous footsteps of being the best childless aunt in the world. We’ve got all the time in the world. Look who’s here! Two of the handsomest, kindest, smartest, sexiest men in the world! And they come bearing Chinese food! La vie est trop belle!”

  Lala ran over and kissed David and grabbed the take-out bags Monty was carrying. Lala and David brought the bags over to the table, and Monty sat on Geraldine’s lap and kissed her.

  “Oof,” Geraldine grunted when Monty landed on her.

  “We got two jewels here, David,” Monty said. “Our lovely ladies are our beautiful pearls.”

  “They sure are,” David agreed.

  “Monty,” Geraldine grunted. “My legs are falling asleep.”

  The dogs woke up while Geraldine was distributing the chopped tofu and mushroom and ginger mixture into four lettuce boats on four plates. The greyhound put his head on Lala’s thigh and looked at her with pleading eyes. The borzoi/Shar Pei mix walked around the table, stopped momentarily at each occupied chair, and sighed loudly and constantly as he traveled.

  Petunia watched all of this activity by her canine siblings unfold for a couple of minutes. And then she let out a resounding beagle bay, which conveyed outrage a dowager empress would have labeled excessively self-righteous.

  “Sweet Mother of GOD!” Lala yelled. Her sangria goblet jumped in her hand and she scrambled to hold onto it. “Monty, are you okay? Has the shock affected you adversely? Do we need to do CPR?”

  “I’m fine,” Monty said, looking quite composed. “Dogs make noise. That’s life.”

  “Don’t be so flappable, Lala,” Geraldine said. “Be unflappable, like Monty.”

  Okay, Lala thought. She has a point. I have been way too skittish lately. I need to get my balance back on track.

  “You are right, my dear auntie,” Lala said. “Look at us. Lovely food. Lovely sangria. The best men in the world. And precious dogs who think I don’t know that their great-auntie fed them dinner half an hour ago. Nothing to worry about. Everything to savor.”

  The dogs seemed to sense, in unison, that their scam, which they attempted to perpetuate on an at-least-daily basis (“Did she tell you she fed us? Because she didn’t. She must have misunderstood your question, because we haven’t had dinner yet. Nope. We sure haven’t.”), had once again been busted, and they reluctantly returned to their outdoor beds and went back to sleep.

  A leisurely and convivial dinner hour among the humans began. When everyone was done eating, there were no leftovers, even though David and Monty had ordered more food than four people with very hearty appetites could normally be expected to eat, because Lala went kind of nuts over how exceptionally delicious the dry sautéed string beans were that night. When half the carton was remaining and David and Geraldine and Monty were leaning back in their chairs, clearly beyond any level of sated that would register below glutinous, Lala kept pointing to the carton and kept asking “Anyone want more? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna finish it, okay? Anyone want more string beans? Because if not, I’m—” and Geraldine told her to eat the rest of the darn string beans already, for goodness’ sake.

  They had grapes and sliced watermelon for dessert, and then Lala told Geraldine and Monty to go back to their apartment and relax while she and David and the pups cleaned up outside.

  “And when I say that the pups will be helping with the clean up, I am, of course, kidding, because they don’t do much of anything except sleep and eat and be wonderful and precious and loving and very loud on occasion and, like Yootza and so many before him, leave an eternal memory in your heart. Which is more than we have any right to expect or indeed deserve.”

  After they finished cleaning, David and Lala went back to their apartment and Lala made some chamomile tea. As the evening went on, she had been feeling more and more nervous about telling David that she would be going to Paris for at least a month or two, especially because she knew he wouldn’t be able to join her.

  I don’t want him to think I’m being glib about this, Lala thought. I don’t want him to think I’m skipping town and that marrying him isn’t a priority for me. I have to be really calm and reassuring about this.

  “DAVID!” Lala suddenly yelled. David’s mug clattered to the floor and chamomile splattered around the kitchen. “I NEED TO GO TO PARIS FOR THE MOVIE AND I KNOW YOU CAN’T COME BECAUSE OF YOUR CLASS AND I AM REALLY GOING TO MISS YOU!”

  Lala was euphorically amazed when things didn’t go deep south after her outburst. Though David’s pants were caught in the flying tea and were quite wet, he seemed to be wonderfully enthusiastic about Lala’s travel plans.

  “That’s great! Ow! Delayed OW! I think that tea was hotter than I realized.”

  Lala grabbed David’s arm and led him to the bathroom. She sat him on the edge of the bathtub, undid his belt, and slid his pants off. She got a washcloth out of the linen closet and ran it under the faucet to soak it with cold water, then she wrung it out and handed it to David.

  “Hold that on your thigh,” she said. She got another washcloth, ran it under the cold water, and handed it to David. “And this one on your other thigh.”

  Lala ran to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She brought it to David. She opened the medicine cabinet and got out a bottle of Tylenol. She handed two pills to him.

  “Take these,” she said. “I’ll hold the washcloths.”

  Lala knelt on the floor and held the compresses while David swallowed the pills and finished the bottle of water. They were silent for several moments.

  “Better?” Lala asked.

  “Better,” David said.

  “Good?” Lala asked.

  “Good,” David said.

  That night began an epic sex-a-thon that put a veil of joy on the two weeks leading up to Lala’s flight to Paris that was almost too much fo
r Lala to endure. Sex with David had always been great, and this elevated phase left Lala unbearably happy, because beneath all of it was the scar left by Terrence’s death, the scar that put the fear that it might all disappear never far from her thoughts.

  The drive to LAX on the afternoon of Lala’s overnight flight to Charles De Gaulle Airport was much more cheerful than Lala expected. Maybe it was because of the just-about-always reliable California sunshine. Maybe it was because David had not deviated from being calm and encouraging from the moment he heard about Lala’s travel plans. Maybe it was because Lala was consciously refusing to do anything other than pretend everything was going to be just dandy.

  Petunia and Chester and Eunice were cozily dozing in the backseat of David’s car, and Lala was chatting at them.

  “Okay, so, Papa will be going to teach in Davis, and I’ll be going to work in Paris, but we’ll be back soon and you’ll be staying with Great-Auntie Geraldine and Great-Uncle Monty, and you know how much they love you. You will have so much fun together! And of course Papa and I will miss you very much, and before you know it, we’ll all be together again.”

  Before I know it, Lala thought. It’s all going to be okay. Nothing to be worried about.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” Lala told her dogs. “Nothing to be worried about.”

  Petunia snorted, turned over on her back with her legs in the air, and in short order began snoring again. Chester suddenly yipped, presumably because of a very exciting dream. Eunice passed gas, quite loudly. The sound did not wake her up.

  “Do you think they’re listening?” Lala asked David. “I mean, as a veterinarian, what is your expert opinion?”

  “I do think they hear you, sweetheart,” David assured her. “In their subconscious.”

  “You’re humoring me, aren’t you?” Lala asked, rhetorically and with great affection.

  “Maybe to some extent,” David admitted. “I do think you should feel assured that they did in fact hear you when you told them all that this morning at breakfast, when they were actually awake. And on their walk, when they were actually awake. And at the beginning of this ride, before they fell asleep.”

 

‹ Prev