They ordered their lunch, each having a Cobb salad, which once again surprised them. “Yet another thing in common,” Carol noted.
“Who knew?” Joy said, her voice teasing. She wanted to slap herself for sounding so stupid. She was not skilled in the flirting department.
Carol laughed. She had a nice laugh. Joy had changed her opinion of Carol being an ice queen. There was a lot more to Carol than Joy knew. They took their trays and sat down at a table that looked down on the mezzanine. Everything was always so clean and fresh and organized at an IKEA store. She wished life could be like that—clean, fresh, and organized.
“You’re right about us not knowing anything about each other,” Carol said, taking her salad off the tray and doing the same for Joy as if she were the wait staff.
“I’d like it if we could. It’d make everything easier,” Joy offered, hoping she wouldn’t be rebuked.
Carol laughed again. “It would. Look, I’m sorry about the way I treated you. I just needed to leave off my old life and I had to do it fast. I’m sure we can make this work. I’d like to make it work. I have to say I’m glad now that I have you. I haven’t lived on my own much. This will be a change. If I step on your toes in any way please let me know; deal?”
“I didn’t even know we were talking deals,” Joy said, a she pulled piece of lettuce off her front tooth.
“Don’t be difficult. I’m baring my soul here,” Carol said, poking at her salad but not eating it.
“I’m sorry. I do want to make this work. It’ll be good for both of us and as soon as you fill out this questionnaire, we can resume becoming world-winning roommates.”
“Questionnaire?” Carol asked alarmed.
“I actually went out with a woman who wanted me to answer her questionnaire before we could go any further,” Joy said.
“Did you?” Carol said, picking around her salad. Joy wondered if she didn’t like it.
“No. I finished my coffee, told her I thought she was a very nice person, but upon inspection of the questionnaire I didn’t think we were well matched.”
“Brilliant exit strategy,” Carol said.
“Good thing we’d only gone for coffee. Dinner would’ve been excruciatingly long. I hate scenes in public but coffee is quick, and not really a date.”
Carol laughed again. She was even more beautiful when she laughed because, for a brief moment, she looked less sad. Something bad must’ve happened to give her such great sadness. “The infamous lesbian tactic of coffee if you’re the least bit tentative about the person,” Carol said.
“Or you go to bed with them after one date,” Joy said. She’d done that a time or two and it was always a mistake. After that, she was more choosey and careful with her love life. Lesbians could be dangerously clingy especially when you were breaking up. Joy’s main problem was that she was a poor judge of character when it came to girlfriends.
“Been there, done that. A few times. I hate messy scenes,” Carole said.
“See... we could come up with our own questionnaire. Beginning with: how prepared are you for a breakup and do you make public scenes ad nauseam?” Joy said.
“I’m starting to like you,” Carol said.
“That’s a good thing since we’re living together,” Joy said. Her heart leapt thinking about having Carol as a friend and not an apartment adversary. She didn’t want to be the Odd Couple. It seemed like too much work.
“Okay, here’s another question,” Carol said. “How did you get into real estate?”
“After my father ditched us, my mother got her real estate license. She wasn’t one for single mother poverty. She’s great with people and she made enough money to put me through college. I couldn’t get a job after college, so I decided I’d give real estate a try.”
“And evidently you’re good at it, too.”
Joy smiled. It was a nice compliment. “I do my best.”
“I bet your best is pretty darn good,” Carol said.
“What are you basing that on?” Joy asked. She was curious to get insight into Carol’s thought process. Knowing people was her business.
“Your clothes,” Carol said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Poor people don’t wear designer labels. And a poverty-stricken, unsuccessful real estate agent doesn’t inspire confidence in a client. You dress the part well.”
“Are you complimenting me?” Joy teased.
Carol smiled her response. “Okay, your turn,” Carol said.
“Are you sales or management at the Boutique?”
“I own it,” Carol said.
Joy was impressed. Carol wasn’t just a pretty face; she was an entrepreneur and business owner. Her esteem of Carol grew.
“Why did you call it that?” Joy asked.
“Do not laugh. There’s a reason for it.”
“Do tell,” Joy teased. She was glad they were getting along so well. It felt nice. Living in animosity would make living together like the last, gasping, days of the end of a love affair when you discover that you don’t even like the woman you’re supposed to love.
At forty, Joy was beginning to understand the mystery of women and she still wasn’t good at relationships. She usually put the blame on herself, but there had been time or two when she had been the victim. Joy seriously considered swearing off dating. Evidently, so did Carol or she wouldn’t be single and living with a perfect stranger because she needed a place to live so badly. Carol pulled Joy back from her ruminations.
“Because instead of people having to remember the name all they have to say is, ‘I got it at The Boutique,’ It’s like Madonna or Sting,” Carol said.
“It makes it sound more exclusive,” Joy said appreciatively. “That’s smart.”
“Why thank you. It wasn’t my idea though. I have to give credit to my ex business partner.”
“Well, it’s a good one. How long have you had the store?”
“Seven years now,” Carol said. She looked sad. “It was always my dream to have one. I love clothes. I always have. I went to college and specialized in textiles.”
Joy was impressed. Being a real estate agent had never been her dream. She hadn’t had one. Life just happened to her and she went with the flow. She was good at her job, but it wasn’t her idea of a dream job. Her problem was that she lacked the imagination to find her dharma. Maybe selling houses was her dharma and she didn’t know it yet. She’d have to give that a good think.
“I’m glad you achieved your dream. It’s rare in this world. Most people, like me, fall into things,” Joy said.
“It all started with playing dress up when I was a little girl. My mother used to say it all started with a barrel of old castoff clothes.”
Joy noticed the use of the past tense. Carol was either estranged from her mother or her mother had passed on.
Seeming to anticipate Joy’s question if she was going to ask, Carol said, “She died of breast cancer last year.”
Hence the gentle sadness Carol’s demeanor exuded. Her mother had died, and she was alone; no supporting wife, alone. But not anymore. Joy would make her feel better... or give it the old college try at least.
“I’m so sorry,” Joy said.
Carol nodded. “I’m getting used to it. We weren’t really close, but she was my mother and I’m sad she’s gone. Perhaps we could’ve remedied that had she not worked all the time. That’s one of the reasons I only keep the shop open from ten to five. That’s enough work for one day. I intend to do more with my life than work all the time with nothing left for rest and relaxation.”
Joy felt immensely grateful for being close to her mother. Joy couldn’t imagine not being able to pick up the phone and listen to her mother’s voice. It was hard enough when her mother moved to Palm Springs to semi-retire and spend time with more people her own age. “Honey, it makes me feel less elderly,” her mother had said, to which Joy had replied, “You’re not old.”
“It appears we are doing a questio
nnaire after all,” Carol said.
Joy smiled. “I think we’re going to be compatible. Who knew?”
They both laughed.
***
Fern was as good as her word. She knocked on the door at six o’clock armed with her toolbox and a P-trap for the kitchen sink. “I ran into Orville on the way in. I told him he should expect a bill. Serves him right for not doing what he’s supposed to by contract.” Fern was a correct fairy who believed in morals and ethics—a truthful tradesperson. “He won’t pay for months, but I get my fee in the end. Believe me.”
She looked around. “The place looks nice. I especially like the big, brown, comfy chair. Looks like just the place to put your feet up after a long day.”
Joy refrained from smirking. She wanted to stay on Carol’s good side. They were both getting used to Joy’s chair.
Fern made her way straight to the kitchen. Carol looked over at Joy, “She doesn’t mess around.”
Clanking commenced and they went to see what Fern the Fairy was up to. Fern had hung her wings on the back of a kitchen chair. Joy supposed it was difficult doing plumbing with wings.
“Joy, can you hand me the medium pipe wrench?” Fern said.
Joy looked hopelessly at Fern’s large toolbox. Carol picked out the wrench Fern had requested.
“Many thanks,” Fern said. She grunted and clanged around until she pulled out the old, rusted pipe. “Here’s the culprit. I’ll have it fixed up in a jiffy.” She pulled a P-trap out of her toolbox and set about installing it. It took her less than ten minutes. Orville could’ve gotten it fixed easily—what an ass, Joy thought.
Fern turned on the faucet and checked to make sure the pipe didn’t leak. “Well, ladies, you’re all fixed up.”
“Great, thanks, so much,” Joy said.
“Yes, thank you,” Carol said.
Fern packed up her toolbox. “What you all doing for turkey day?” Fern asked.
“You mean Thanksgiving?” Joy asked.
“Precisely,” Fern said, slipping back into her wings.
“I’m kind of at loose ends. Usually, I fly down and spend the holiday with my mother in Palm Springs but she’s going to Italy for two weeks,” Joy said.
“My girlfriend dumped me. I have no friends. I was thinking I’d order in Chinese,” Carol said. Her brutal honesty shocked them all. “Well, it’s true.”
Fern jumped up and down, making her wings flap. “You all can have Thanksgiving with me and Beryl. We celebrate it with each other every year. You see, neither of us has people. We’d love to have you all. And you can’t say no because you just can’t!” Fern declared.
It was hard to turn down a fairy.
Chapter Five
Joy awoke in the night, ravenously hungry. Her lunch had been her only meal for the day. After lunch she had gotten a call about a house with a potential buyer. She had gone off to deal with that and Carol had gone back to work, promising she would help do the furniture on the weekend. She had made Joy swear not to put together any more furniture on her own.
“I’m pretty sure it was a one-off on getting the footboard replaced. I don’t think I can talk them into a dresser. Just in case something untoward might happen,” Carole had said.
Joy looked over at the clock that was sitting on the floor next to her bed since her nightstand had yet to be assembled. It wasn’t illuminated. She crawled from bed and tried to switch on the overhead light. The power was out. She had just bought groceries, including ice cream and now the power was off! She knew enough that if she kept the refrigerator door closed the food would last for a while but not the ice cream. Time for a midnight snack.
She smiled. She hadn’t done this since she was a kid. She put her robe on and made her way to the kitchen, feeling her way out the door and down the hall. She was almost to the kitchen when she saw a flame flickering from a candle on the coffee table. Carol was up.
In the candlelight she looked more beautiful than before. She was truly magnificent in her white silk robe. She looked Classical, like she belonged on the Island of Lesbos. “Did we happen to switch over the electric bill from the dickhead?” Carol asked.
“You mean our shyster landlord? No, I didn’t. I’ve been so busy I completely forgot.”
“So did I,” Carol said, as she lit the rest of the designer candles she had positioned around the room.
“Certainly, he gave us more than a day to do it,” Joy said, knowing full well the guy was an asshole and probably had it switched the minute they signed the lease. It had just taken the electric company until the next day. “Maybe it’s a power outage,” she mused.
Carol pointed out the apartment window. The house across the way had its outside light on. Nope. It was a utility error.
“I’ll get it changed over in the morning. I’m only showing one house tomorrow,” Joy said, knowing it would be easier to go down to the electric company and explain the situation so that they’d have power by the weekend. Since it was Friday, she didn’t want them putting her off until Monday. Joy knew her way around the utility companies from having dealt with rentals and selling houses. Also, she knew someone who could get it turned on in a matter of minutes. It paid to have friends high up in the utilities department. Joy couldn’t believe she had forgotten.
“Thank you. That would be wonderful. I’ve got a shipment of clothing coming in and I need it racked by Saturday. It’s one of my busiest days,” Carol said. “I hope they’ll do it and not leave us hanging for the weekend. Surely they wouldn’t do that?” She seemed to think on that. “Would they?”
“I’ve got a friend. She’ll help us,” Joy said.
“She works for the electric company?”
“Yep,” Joy said, feeling pleased with herself that she could help out like Carol was helping her with the furniture. She would return the favor by getting the power turned back on.
“Hopefully, our food won’t spoil because, of course, we both bought groceries. Our wonderful landlord probably figured on that, too,” Carol said. “He seems mean and petty that way.”
“I have two cartons of ice cream in the freezer. I don’t think those are going to make it.”
“We could have a snack,” Carol said. “I’m rather fond of ice cream.”
“Really?” Joy said then felt stupid. Carol had said it she liked it; why add the rhetorical ‘really?’ She always felt like she got tongue-tied being around Carol, especially now that she wasn’t being bitchy. Joy’s opinion of Carol was rapidly changing.
She was no longer a bitch; she was occasionally crabby. Carol’s behavior had improved since the furniture episode. Joy knew why she was single, but she couldn’t help wondering why someone as lovely and successful as Carol was.
“Let’s get eating,” Carol said. She picked up one of the designer candles. It smelled like sandalwood. Joy followed her to the kitchen. She got the ice cream out and Carol located two spoons.
Joy held up the two cartons of ice cream. “Chunky Monkey or Rocky Road?”
“I’m rather partial to chocolate,” Carol said.
“Rocky Road it is.” Joy handed her the carton. She was glad Carol was decisive. Joy had had a girlfriend who answered seemingly every question of preference with “You decide.” It was an irritating habit born out of being either indecisive or too polite to say what they really wanted and not what they thought Joy wanted. It was annoying. Especially because Joy had to deal with wishy-washy buyers and sellers. It drove her crazy. She liked that Carol hadn’t hesitated. Joy had offered her the choice and Carol had chosen. Carol was growing on her.
They went to sit in the living room, and, by candlelight, they quietly ate their ice cream. “Can I ask you a personal question?” Joy said, summoning up her courage. She wanted to know why Carol was alone. What had happened? She was alone with a sadness that hinted at a disaster of the heart... Carol was heartbroken, and Joy wanted to know why. It would explain a lot about Carol’s behavior.
“If it’s about my sex l
ife, then no,” Carol teased. “Let me guess. It’s confession time, but you have to go first. Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“I haven’t found the right one,” Joy said uncertainly, wondering if her lack of a partner was her own fault and not the fault of the women she had dated and lived with. “They all seem to be lacking or we didn’t get along after six months. I don’t know; maybe it’s all me.”
“You seem like a nice enough person and you’re attractive,” Carol said.
“Is that a compliment?” Joy said, embarrassed but pleased.
“It is. You could be correct though, maybe you haven’t found the right one.”
Now that Joy had started talking, she found wanted to keep going. She stuck a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth to silence herself.
They sat in the pleasant quiet and ate. The apartment felt cozy by candlelight. Carol spoke, “To answer your question, I had the right one and I lost her.”
Joy didn’t know if Carol meant the love of her life had died, suffered some terrible accident and was in a coma in a care facility. The only thing she could think of to say was, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I failed her and she left me.”
So, she was alive. “What happened? I mean, if you feel like telling me. I don’t want to pry,” Joy said.
“No, it’s fine. It might help. I haven’t talked about it much. People ask what happened to Debra and I and I’m forced to say it didn’t work out and leave it at that. We didn’t care for our relationship enough and one morning she woke up and told me she didn’t love me anymore.”
“Oh, my god. That’s awful.”
“I remember her getting out of bed, looking at me, and then leaving. I pleaded. She packed. It was the worst day of my life. She went off to her job and never inquired about anything to do with me ever again. One day she was in my life, the next she wasn’t. I sublet the apartment because I wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath. I walked away from it all, which was why I needed this apartment so badly. I needed this six-month hiatus before I deal with the detritus of my old life.”
Joy felt terrible. Here Carol was damaged and homeless, and Joy had been so mean about getting her own way. “I should’ve let you have it.”
Everything but the Girl Page 4