by Hazel Yeats
“No,” she said, trying to sound indifferent. “I don’t generally read the Bunny Chronicles.”
This was true. She had learned the hard way that opening Jude’s website at least once a day, reading her blog, staring at her picture, remembering all the things they had done, imagining all the things they hadn’t done but that she wished they had, didn’t exactly help her move on. Which is why she had gone cold turkey. Which is why she had missed the publication of a new book. Now that she was staring at it, she couldn’t stop a sudden flood of memories from washing over her. She saw Jude’s face with a hundred different expressions on it, one slowly merging into another—smiles morphing into frowns, joy into anger, tears into bliss—and she saw her own face next to Jude’s, as if she was watching a kaleidoscopic image of all their moments together. One memory was singled out—the day they had argued about Cara’s alleged lack of respect for children’s literature. She remembered trying to help Jude overcome that strange and sudden loathing of what had been her passion for so long. Jude had shared with Cara her fear of running dry, of the creativity her livelihood depended on suddenly disappearing to never return. She’d stopped talking and had started to touch Cara, the subject making her edgy and fearful. Their lovemaking, colored with a tinge of sadness, had enabled them to reach a new level of intimacy. Cara remembered feeling almost guilty for relishing the state that Jude was in—there was something languid and hyper sensual in the way she was touched, and although Cara knew it was brought on by Jude’s desperate attempt to immerse herself in something that would chase away her demons, or at least keep them at bay, she had basked in it nevertheless.
“Hey!” Myra brought her face so close that Cara could almost count the freckles on her nose. She pointed at the rabbit on the book cover. “I said, funny you should say that!”
Cara shook her head to chase away the disturbing images. “Why?”
“Because this book is a Bunny volume, but it has the glummest title ever.” Myra held the book in front of Cara’s face.
“’Bunny Cries,’” Cara read.
“See? Now what kind of depressing title is that? For a children’s book! And did you see who it’s dedicated to?” Myra opened the book and read, “To my muse, wherever she may be.”
Cara stared at her sister, wishing she would go away, wishing everybody would go away, so she could crash to the floor and just stay there, until she died. Somehow, she kept standing. She even managed to maintain her composure. “That’s weird,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
“Very weird,” Myra said. “Do you suppose it’s a hidden message?”
“I—”
“Oh, my God.” Myra looked at her wide-eyed. “What if it’s a hidden message to you?”
“Nah,” Cara said, shaking her head. “She’s just being dramatic.”
Myra shrugged. “You’re probably right.” She tapped the nail of her index finger on the book in Cara’s hand. “I wouldn’t recommend this, by the way. It’s a little garish.”
CHAPTER 13
“Here we are.” Inge made a sharp turn and drove into the parking lot of the hotel, where she planted her Volvo in the first available spot.
It was late afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon and there was that typical smell of autumn in the air—the deep and herbal scent of earth and mushrooms and rotting leaves and wood burning fireplaces. Cara stuck her head out the window and inhaled deeply. She loved this time of year. And she loved being away. She’d been in dire need of a change of scenery without realizing it. As usual, in any new situation, her thoughts drifted off to Jude—a strange and slightly alarming habit, given the circumstances. It was almost as if she were observing life through Jude’s eyes, as well as through her own.
She wasn’t sure if Jude had ever been to the south, to Limburg, which was so uniquely different from the rest of the country. She imagined spending a romantic weekend together, taking long walks through the hills and valleys, following trails along murmuring brooks with water mills and age-old farmsteads. Trying the local delicacies at rustic inns. Spending the night together in an enchanting B and B.
After indulging the fantasy for a second, she fought to push the images away, because she knew from experience that daydreams would turn into nightmares at the realization that Jude was gone from her life. Only this time, it was even harder than usual to stop herself from reminiscing. Having seen the new Bunny book made the memories come to life and it made them shine, as though they’d been dusted off and polished. It had made her realize that Jude wasn’t a person from her past at all, and that she should stop trying to convince herself that she was. Maybe it was better to accept and acknowledge the pain—at least it was honest. At least that way, she could stop kidding herself. She might as well admit that the thought of spending the rest of her life without Jude made her feel as desperate as ever. It was pretty obvious that she was the muse the new book was dedicated to, and she wasn’t sure if this made matters better or worse, but she decided on worse. To pine for someone was one thing, but to know that that person was pining for you just as badly, while there was no way to connect with them, was so much more than just painful—it was, somehow, a cosmic unfairness.
“Hey! Cara!” Myra pushed her. “Are you with us?”
“Totally and completely,” Cara said.
Inge snapped open her seatbelt and opened the car door. “This, ladies, is the end of our trip.” She smirked. “Please, don’t forget to tip the driver.” She put her nose in the air and sniffed, like a wolf detecting the scent of its prey. “Ah,” she said, getting out of the car, “autumn. Don’t you just love it?”
“Is there a drugstore here somewhere?” Myra struggled with her seatbelt. “I need to find a drugstore.”
“Run out of tampons?” Inge inquired.
“Oh yuk, do we have to talk about this?” Alice shook her head. “Can’t we all just take care of our sanitary needs in private?”
“Stop whining, okay?” said Myra. “You prude. It’s not tampons I need. Thank God.”
“What do you need?” Cara said.
“It’s private.”
“Do I have it? Could I lend it to you?”
Myra broke out in a fit of laughter. “I doubt that very much,” she said. “Besides, it’s not something one tends to borrow.”
“Are you…in a great hurry getting it?”
Myra shook her head. “Tomorrow will be fine. There’s no rush.”
They all got out of the car and looked around, taking in their new surroundings. The hotel was a large, modern, glass and chrome monstrosity, at least ten stories high. Nobody said anything as they stood staring at the brightly lit entrance.
“What?” Inge said.
Nobody answered.
“Oh, come on, you guys! This was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. I hardly had the time to find some quaint B and B in a castle on a hill, with a wishing well and a flock of grazing sheep outside our window!”
“I was actually taking a minute to admire it,” Alice said. “I know this chain of hotels well, and they’re excellent. Clean, large, efficient, and full of competent staff.”
“I like it too,” Cara said. “Look at this.” She turned around, the others following suit. “We’re smack in the middle of town. It’s full of restaurants and bars and old-fashioned street lanterns and happy people, just like you promised. What’s not to like?”
Inge opened the trunk of the car and they all flocked around her to get to their luggage.
“Great,” Alice said, “my whole beauty case has been dented by all your stupid heavy bags. Why pile everything on top of something so delicate?” She stroked the thing as if she was afraid it might be in pain.
“You’re going on forty, sweetheart,” Myra said. “Your beauty itself is about to be dented. Permanently. And please, allow yourself to sag a little.” She touched her right breast with t
he back of her hand.” It’s so…liberating.”
The lobby was a welcoming place with a large front desk and lots of comfortable chairs, and tables with glossy magazines to read. There was a view of a bar on their right. Behind them was a dining hall where a man in chef’s whites was setting the tables for dinner.
The elderly woman at the front desk checked Inge’s reservation. “Let’s see,” she said. “You booked a deluxe, family room for four.”
“Four?” Myra said, looking over Inge’s shoulder. “We’re all bunking together?”
“It’s deluxe!” Inge gave Myra a slight push with her elbow.
With the practicalities over, they took the elevator to the ninth floor. Their room really was deluxe, with four single but large beds, an impressive wall cupboard to hang clothes, and a spectacularly large bathroom with a hot tub. The window had a view of the city and the hills in the background.
“I may well move here,” Cara said. She took some clean clothes for the night from her suitcase and then pushed it under the bed with her foot, deciding not to go through the trouble of unpacking if they were only going to stay the night. Then they all took turns taking a shower, changed, and went down to the lobby to discuss their plans for the evening.
In their absence, the elderly woman at the front desk had been replaced by a stunningly pretty, dark-haired girl in her mid-twenties, who flashed a dazzling smile at them.
“Maybe you should ask her to join us,” Myra said, when she saw Cara staring at the girl. “Or at least close your mouth.”
Cara blushed and shook her head.
Myra smiled. “She actually looks a little like a young Jude. I guess that’s your type then, huh?”
Cara shrugged. “Let it go, okay?”
They decided to have dinner in one of the many restaurants downtown, and to go for drinks afterward.
“We’re not going dancing, are we?” Myra said as the doors of the lobby slid open.
Inge shook her head. “No. Why? Did you leave your dancing shoes at home?”
“I don’t know.” Myra shrugged. “I feel like I left my stomach at home.”
They stepped out into the cool night air—a crescent moon lit up the darkening sky.
“It’s pretty chilly in this neck of the woods.” Alice hugged herself.
As they were crossing the square, Inge reached into her handmade, quilted purse and produced a city map that she flashed in front of Cara’s face before she unfolded it. “Did you know that there are some great gay bars here?”
Cara shrugged. “So?”
“We thought it might be nice to take a bit more interest in your…you know, world,” said Alice.
Cara caught up with her. “You make it sound as though I’m living on a different planet from everybody else.”
“Let’s walk, okay?” Myra took the lead. “And argue about this somewhere inside, where it’s warm.”
“After dinner,” Inge said, “we’re going for drinks at a place that has live music. She smiled. “Jazz.” She slapped her thigh. “Hot, smoky jazz.”
“Jazz?” Cara made a face. “That’s great, but jazz tends to have a special kind of effect on me. Which means that you guys have to promise you won’t let me get drunk. Not even a little. If I do, I’ll give you more trouble than I’m worth.” She looked at Inge. “But anyway, I thought you wanted to go to a gay bar. Is it…gay jazz?”
“It’s gay friendly,” Inge said. “Or rather…” She checked her notes. “Open-minded.”
“Can’t get much vaguer than that,” Cara said.
Inge nodded. “It’s an open-minded bar that happens to have live jazz tonight.”
“Does that mean I won’t get bashed?”
“Oh, come on,” Alice said, “who gets bashed anymore? You people are always so dramatic.”
Cara pushed her. “If you really want to take an interest in my world, I suggest you stop referring to us as you people.
“Sorry. You people are always so touchy.”
“Would you people be terribly sorry,” Myra said, who had hardly spoken since they’d left the hotel, “if we went for a light dinner? Just thinking about food makes me want to hurl, actually.”
“There’s a permanent TMI alert on this trip,” said Alice.
“Light?” There was a bit of panic in Inge’s voice. “Light as in…a club salad and a club soda?”
“Is there no gay friendly…like Chinese food place?” Myra looked doubtful. “I might manage a little kung pao chicken, or something.”
Inge consulted the city map again. “There’s an Indian place nearby.” She kept her finger at a spot on the map. She peered into the distance, then pointed north. “It’s that way.” She turned, the others followed. “It’s a shopping area, you may well find a drugstore there, too.”
“How is Chinese the same as Indian?” Cara muttered under her breath, following them.
The first thing they saw when they rounded the corner was a drugstore with an Open sign in the window.
“Wait here.” Myra practically ran toward it. “I’ll be right back.” She came out looking very content. She had obviously found what she was looking for.
Once at the Indian restaurant, it turned out to be closed for the season. Because of the cold, and because Myra convinced them that she really needed to sit down, they decided to go to the seafood restaurant that was round the corner from the Indian place.
Cara hesitated by the door.
“What’s wrong?” Inge said.
“I wonder if it’s wise to eat seafood so far from the sea,” she said. “Can it really be fresh?”
“Ever hear of ice?” Inge was trying to push her inside. “And besides, you eat taco’s all the time. And Mexico is a hell of a lot farther away than the sea.”
“That makes absolutely no sense at all.” Cara shook her head.
“You know what, girls?” Myra walked past them and pushed open the door. “Argue all you want, but let me through, okay?” She walked inside and sat down at the first empty table she saw. “It’s delightful,” she shouted at them.
They all went inside. They were shown to a different table at the back of the restaurant, next to a giant fish tank filled with huge lobsters, claws bound, that seemed to stare at them reproachfully. The sight of them depressed Cara. To appease them, she studied the entire menu for a vegetarian dish, but failed to find one.
“Can I just have a baked potato and a salad?” she asked their waiter. He looked at her as if he was considering asking her to leave the premises, but he wrote her order on his notepad without a comment.
“I’ll have the same,” Myra said. “Without the baked potato. So basically just a salad. With the dressing on the side.”
Inge restored the good spirits of the cranky waiter by ordering the seafood special. Alice had the scallops.
Cara made a quarter turn to the left in her chair so she wouldn’t have to see the maltreated lobsters. They gave her the creeps.
“Isn’t this cozy?” Myra said, when the drinks were being brought. She raised her club soda in the air. “To us, girls.”
They toasted, and then Myra put her glass down, pressed a hand to her mouth, got up and stormed toward the restrooms.
“What’s her problem?” Alice asked. “She’s been acting weird ever since we got in the car.”
“Maybe she’s worried about leaving your brother behind with four children,” Cara said. “I don’t know how the poor man’s going to cope on his own.”
“Hey,” said Inge. “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
The food had been served by the time Myra came back from the bathroom. She was looking a little pale, but a faint smile curled at the corners of her mouth.
She sat down without speaking, taking a piece of lettuce from her plate and putting it in her mouth.
&nb
sp; “What took you so long?’ Inge said. “And what’s with all the cloak and dagger?”
“We’re a little worried,” Cara said. “You don’t seem quite yourself.”
Myra was smiling from ear to ear now. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure. That’s why I needed to find a drugstore.”
“I don’t get it,” Alice said.
“I bought a pregnancy test,” Myra explained. “And guess what? It’s positive.”
Inge, whose hand was on its way to her mouth with a shrimp the size of a boomerang, went deadly pale. Her hand went limp and fell on the table; the shrimp was catapulted to the floor.
Myra smiled from ear to ear. “How about that, huh?” She leaned over and kissed an astonished Inge on the cheek. “Congratulations, honey,” she whispered. “It seems you’re having a baby.”
CHAPTER 14
“Can we walk there? To the gay friendly jazz club?” Alice checked her phone for the gazillionth time, as they were waiting for the waiter to bring them their check.
“Bar,” Cara corrected. “It’s a bar, not a club.”
“Whatever. Can we walk there?”
“Can we please, please, please just go home?” Inge wiped the tears from her eyes. “So I can tell Bart? I want to be with him and share this. And not over the phone either. I want us to go shopping for cribs.”
“It’s early days, honey.” Myra put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Don’t freak out now, okay? You’ll give Bart a heart attack when you come home in the middle of the night with your face all puffy. Let’s just stick to the plan and do what we came out here to do. On Monday, we’ll tell Bart, and you can come with me when I see the doctor.”
“What do you mean,” Cara said, “do what we came out here to do? What did we come out here to do?”