The Last Bathing Beauty

by Nathan, Amy Sue

  “You must be starving.” Boop rose from her chair and collected the blueberry muffins and chocolate bridge mix and set it all in the center of the table instead of on elaborate serving platters no one cared about. Georgia opened the box of chocolates and plucked out the chocolate-covered peanuts. She had a lifetime of practice and a sixth sense about this, and always ate the peanuts first. Boop didn’t know whether that meant the peanuts were Georgia’s most or least favorite.

  Doris placed a muffin onto a napkin. “Do you have any—”

  Boop raised her index finger, and Doris said nothing more until Boop retrieved the butter and a knife and arranged them in front of her. “Thank you.”

  Hannah tittered and shook her head. “You knew what Doris wanted and she didn’t say anything. That’s amazing.”

  “Not really,” Boop said. But she knew it was.

  “We know everything about one another,” Doris said. “From butter to big things.”

  “Big things like Boop moving to San Diego?” Hannah asked.

  “You finally told her,” Georgia said.

  “I was just waiting for the right time.”

  “You didn’t know I was coming. If I hadn’t shown up, would you have left without telling me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Boop said.

  Georgia raised and lowered her eyebrows. She knew Boop didn’t want to talk about leaving South Haven.

  “Try to understand,” Doris said. “Your grandmother wants a fresh start. We’ve done it.” She motioned to Georgia and then back to herself.

  “I’m not leaving until after Labor Day,” Boop said. “Hannah, visit as much as you can this summer. We’ll talk about this another time—can we change the subject?”

  Without missing a beat, the conversation turned to Georgia’s tennis game, Doris’s most recent Vegas wedding, Hannah’s favorite students, and Boop’s square-dancing class, each of them filling in details omitted on the phone or too lengthy for email. Even repetition was welcome in person.

  Hannah’s demeanor softened. No more urgency, no more tears. Instead, laughing and lively conversation. How quickly Boop, the girls, and Hannah had eased into joyful repartee, but sorrow didn’t dissolve that quickly. This was a temporary remedy for Hannah, which would do for now. It reminded Boop that what mattered was how much she and the girls cared about one another and how that could be a tonic for any ailment.

  Even Dr. Georgia Lemon agreed.

  Georgia had always been a little different from Boop and Doris—science- and math-minded, she’d earned her MD in 1959 from Chicago Medical School, the same year Boop had been voted president of the PTA and Doris had followed her first husband, the doctor, to Indianapolis. In addition, Georgia had been the only one of their group who’d never married, and also the only gentile.

  Georgia and Boop had become friends because of Nannie, at a time in Boop’s life when her grandmother could do no wrong. “A new family bought the big store on Phoenix Street,” Nannie had said. “So be nice to the new little shiksa in your class, Betty.”

  Nannie had always used slurs for non-Jews, so as a girl, Betty thought nothing of this descriptor. Now, Boop cringed at the thought of Nannie’s easy insult.

  Of course, Bitty Betty Stern had done as she was told. Georgia had also been told to be nice to Betty, since her grandparents would order their resort staff’s embroidered shirts through the store.

  The little girls hadn’t cared about that, only that they both liked hopscotch and collecting beach glass.

  Boop and Doris had met in kindergarten, as evidenced in a packed-away sepia class photograph. Neither of them remembered a time when they didn’t know one another. And then, by extension, Doris and Georgia became friends.

  Why had she waited so long to insist the girls come back? Better late than never, she supposed. Still, the passage of time and the subsequent limits on possible future gatherings struck Boop like a cold shower. She swallowed a bite of a blueberry muffin that pushed down regret and kept it inside like a cork. Like Hannah.

  Boop’s heart and head wouldn’t settle until she knew what made Hannah cry. Her own disquiet, her craving for time alone with the girls, would have to wait.

  The animated banter around her trickled into Boop’s head and heart, scattering her troublesome thoughts like cake crumbs. Unaware of Boop’s subconscious wandering, Hannah, Georgia, and Doris chitchatted about the dry heat of Scottsdale and how Georgia’s doubles partners were twenty years younger.

  Boop nodded at no one in particular and at all of them, mentally catching up on the conversation and silently swearing to stay alert and involved and to remain rooted in the wonder around her.

  At sunset, Boop watched as Hannah sat sideways on the low concrete divider that separated the porch from Lakeshore Drive, the narrow one-way street separating her house from the beach. She faced south. They all faced south.

  A crowd gathered at the pier and stood witness as a resplendent wash of marigold and honey crept over the blue-gray dusk. Neither the girls nor Hannah spoke, their collective breathing as deep as a sleeping baby’s. Boop flicked on the porch lights, then stepped inside the house, as her well of sunsets was filled for the moment.

  Besides clicking on the lamp in the screened porch, she clapped on the light in the TV room. Both would illuminate the porch. She grabbed four cotton throws from the living room and hurried back outside. The sun was gone, and it had taken the May warmth with it.

  Boop handed Doris and Georgia their coverlets, and they draped them over their legs. She wrapped a rose-colored throw around Hannah’s back and shoulders like a shawl.

  Hannah slid off the divider and into a blue Adirondack chair. Boop sat in her old wicker rocker, the caning ripe for repair, worn from many seasons of sunset gazing. She laid her blanket over her. How lucky she was to have a full house and a full heart.

  “Can I tell you all something?” Hannah asked.

  “Of course you can,” Boop said. Hannah had been waiting hours to say whatever was next.

  “You have to swear not to tell anyone.”

  “Who are we going to tell?” Doris asked.

  “That’s not the point. Do you swear?”

  Boop would never betray a confidence, but a prickle traveled down her neck and across her shoulders, her personal three-alarm warning.

  “We are the best secret keepers on the planet,” Georgia said.

  “Troubles are better out than in,” Boop said. “You know that.” She trembled. Oh Hannah, what is going on?

  “Clark proposed,” Hannah said.

  “Clark proposed what?” Boop knew, but she wanted to hear Hannah say it.

  “He wants to get married?” Doris clasped her hands with glee. “How wonderful. Mazel tov, dear.”

  Hannah stared at Boop. “I said I’d think about it.”

  Boop hadn’t been shy about her opinion of Clark. He’d gone to law school and now he was a hippie artist or something.

  “You didn’t say yes?” Doris asked.

  “Thank God,” Boop and Georgia said in unison.

  Hannah was young. Twenty-six. She didn’t need to settle down to something so official, so permanent; she should explore the world and her own dreams before committing to marriage.

  “Maybe Clark isn’t the one,” Boop said.

  Hannah leaned forward. “Is there such a thing?”

  “Absolutely,” Doris said.

  “How can you say that?” Georgia asked. “You’ve been married five times.”

  “And each time he was the one.”

  “How did you know?” Hannah asked.

  “I have a sixth sense,” Doris said.

  “You’re being logical, Hannah,” Boop said. “Good for you.” She knew deep inside that logic was not the preferred method of handling one’s heart. She also knew sometimes it was best. “Doris is a hopeless romantic.”

  “I am nothing of the kind,” Doris said. “I’m a hopeful romantic.”

  Hannah reached out to B
oop. “I need your advice.” She glanced at Georgia and Doris. “And yours too.”

  “If you have doubts, that speaks volumes,” Boop said.

  “And maybe not,” Georgia said. “Sometimes a leap of faith is warranted.”

  “A marriage shouldn’t be a leap of faith,” Boop said.

  Georgia opened her eyes wide. “Is that so?”

  “I have a list of pros and cons,” Hannah said. She tugged a paper out of her back pocket and unfolded it four times.

  Boop stood slowly and held out her hand. “May I?” Boop asked. At least she knew now what was bothering Hannah. Yes or no, this was the decision of a lifetime. But it was a choice, and it was Hannah’s choice alone.

  She handed Boop the paper.

  “Why I Should Marry Clark.” Boop glanced at her granddaughter. “Catchy title.”

  “Just read it,” Georgia said.

  Boop resisted the urge to yell that if you’re in love, you don’t need a list. If you’re in love, you don’t run away to your grandmother’s house. Boop now knew that Hannah would have shown up that day even if Stuart hadn’t tattled about having to leave voicemails.

  Hannah had needed South Haven. Hannah had needed Boop.

  “‘Number one: he’s kind to animals. Number two: he’s polite to waiters. Number three: he puts the toilet seat down.’ Hannah! Is this a joke?”

  Hannah grabbed the paper. “No, it’s not a joke. These are fundamental character strengths. Well, maybe not the toilet seat, but it’s thoughtful.” She looked at her list. “He’s a talented artist. He likes independent films. He’s ambitious.”

  “I don’t think he’s ambitious, dear,” Boop said.

  “Oh right, he quit law school,” Doris said.

  “No, it’s worse,” Boop said. “He graduated law school and quit a job at a law firm. That’s not very responsible.”

  “What’s he doing now?” Georgia asked.

  “He’s an artist,” Hannah said. “He’s following his dream.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, but don’t think he’s going to suddenly work a nine-to-five job and bring home a steady paycheck when he stopped doing that after just a year,” Boop said.

  “He’s very passionate about building his sculptures. And the weekend craft fairs. A friend even commissioned him to build something for his backyard.”

  Boop wanted her granddaughters to have security—the kind that she’d had with Marvin. But she also wanted them to have undeniable love—the kind where you don’t say “maybe” to a proposal.

  “Are you in love with him, Hannah?” Doris asked. “I was deeply in love with each of my husbands.”

  “With all due respect, Doris,” Georgia said, “Clark or no Clark, I think you’d agree five marriages is not the goal.”

  “Of course it’s not,” Doris said. “But it has been a blessing.”

  Boop crossed her arms. The choices she made long ago chilled her to the bone. “Are you in love with him, Hannah? Can you imagine yourself with anyone else for the next sixty years?”

  “We’ve been together since freshman year of college. I love him.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  Hannah folded her hands in her lap, something Boop’s grade school teachers would have asked of a class full of rowdy children to quiet them and command attention. Boop mimicked Hannah and set her hands in her lap.

  “I’m not denying the value of friendship, or of loyalty, but those aren’t good enough reasons to marry someone,” Boop said.

  “How about this?” Hannah coughed. “I am pregnant.” She enunciated each word as if Boop would be wont to understand. “Is that a good enough reason?”

  “Oy vey,” Georgia said.

  “Might be,” Doris said.

  “This is awful!” Boop blurted out, though that wasn’t what she meant. Babies were wonderful, but Hannah wasn’t ready. Her life wasn’t ready. Boop wheezed and inhaled but couldn’t fill her lungs. Shallow breaths would make her dizzy but what choice did she have? She couldn’t hold her breath. The girls grabbed her hands.

  “Breathe,” they both said.

  Boop blew a slow stream of air. She inhaled through her nose and didn’t look at Hannah. This couldn’t be happening again.

  In that moment everything changed. Moving away didn’t matter. Even Georgia and Doris didn’t matter. She wanted to scoop Hannah into her lap, brush the flyaway hair from her face, and tell her everything would be okay. Because it would be okay, and it would be fine, in time. Then Boop’s thoughts flipped to practical.

  “Is the baby Clark’s? Have you been to a doctor?”

  Hannah sat in the yellow chair, closest to Boop. “Yes, I’ve been to the doctor and of course the baby is Clark’s!”

  “What do you mean ‘of course’? It happens.”

  “It certainly does,” Georgia said.

  Hannah gasped. “Well, it didn’t happen to me.”

  The worry that Boop had collected inside her dispersed like grains of sand, pouring over her, prickling her limbs, and dissipating. “And you’re sure you want to have the baby? Keep the baby?”

  “I’m sure. And so is Clark.” Hannah broke out into a smile. “We heard the heartbeat.”

  Boop placed her right hand over her own heart, connecting her somehow to this new heartbeat. “So why didn’t you say yes?”

  The girls stayed quiet and still, allowing grandmother and granddaughter privacy within their presence.

  Hannah shrugged, looking like the wide-eyed girl who’d been caught so long ago eating blueberries on a farm outing instead of adding them to her basket, her purple tongue, teeth, and fingers betraying her.

  Boop cleared her throat. “Can you be happy enough if you marry someone you’re not sure about? Maybe. Is a baby a blessing? Absolutely. But you asked—and my answer is no. Being pregnant is not a good enough reason to get married. Not anymore.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Hannah said.

  “I believe it,” Georgia said. “Boop is a thoroughly modern grandmother.”

  Boop nodded at Georgia. How times had changed.

  “It’s the twenty-first century,” Boop said. “You’re a twenty-six-year-old college graduate with a full-time teaching job. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about doing this on your own.”

  “I want the baby to have two parents.”

  “Oh, Hannah,” Doris said. “Maybe it will all work out. The baby will have two parents. Even if you’re not married, nontraditional families can work wonderfully if you do it right.” Doris had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so many steps and halves that Boop couldn’t keep track.

  “No one is cutting Clark out of the picture,” Boop said. Or pushing him off a pier. Maybe Clark would be an unlikely provider and protector—those were a blessing as well.

  She knew that type of man existed because of Marvin. He’d excelled at the family-man thing most of the time. Fatherhood became him, a relief and joy when Stuart was born. Conversely, Boop’s father, Joe Stern, couldn’t have been bothered. Intrinsic nurturing had skipped a generation in her family. Nannie and Zaide cherished three generations of resort guests and a granddaughter, yet their character traits had whizzed right by Joe. Perhaps that was why he’d been attracted to her mother, the stunning yet non-maternal Tillie Feldman Stern—the two people responsible for her mostly wonderful childhood but only because they’d abandoned her. The summer Boop was four, her parents had dropped her off in South Haven for the weekend—a weekend that lasted until she was eighteen.

  Sometimes Boop couldn’t even bring herself to mutter, “May they rest in peace.”

  Hannah tipped her head to one side and smiled. Her eyes filled, glassy with emotion and memories. “I just wonder if I’m the marrying type. Because if I was, I have always wanted a marriage like yours and Pop’s.”

  Doris stroked the fringe on her blanket and Georgia stared at her hands. Hannah’s statement provided a fork in Boop’s roa
d.

  “Things aren’t always what they seem,” she said.

  “And sometimes they are,” Hannah said. “You and Pop were such good role models. I just want to do you proud.”

  “You’ll make me proud if your marriage doesn’t start like mine and Pop’s,” Boop said.

  Besides Boop, there were eight people in the world who knew why Boop would say that. Two of them were sitting on the porch pretending not to hear her, and the other six had died. She’d assumed her untold story would accompany her to the grave, sheltered in a broken corner of her heart.

  But like so many times before when her heart was involved, Boop was wrong.

  “I don’t need perfect,” Hannah cried. “I just need to know Clark is the one. Like you did with Pop.”

  “I didn’t know,” Boop whispered.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know that your grandfather was the one. I took a leap of faith—like Georgia said. And luckily it worked out. But I want you to be sure. Times are different.”

  “Why would you say that?” Hannah’s voice squeaked.

  “Because it’s true,” Georgia said.

  Doris nodded.

  Boop gathered all the courage that had forsaken her throughout her lifetime, as if it had been waiting right here for her on her forever porch. “I wasn’t in love with Pop when we got married.” Blasphemy! The words had been thick and heavy on her tongue, yet at the same time, they’d been easy to say, as if she’d pushed a boulder to the top of a hill and had finally let it roll down the other side.

  Hannah deflated, then roared up with laughter and smacked her knee as if a toddler had told her a knock-knock joke. “Yes, you were totally in love. You got married right here on the patio after Labor Day, months after you graduated from high school. You picked out your dress from a bridal magazine and Nannie went to Chicago to buy it. I’ve heard the story my whole life. I’ve seen the pictures. You were glowing.”