by Sadie Black
“You’re smirking.” Dad was not impressed.
“Only at what you’re wearing.”
“Ok, smart-ass.” He smiled and ribbed me. Whatever the airs he sometimes liked to put on, I knew he wasn’t like the rest of these guys.
“Shall we? The piranhas appear to be in full form today.” I put out my elbow dramatically, indicating that we should lock arms and walk into the parlor together. Dad ignored the gesture.
“Piranhas? Last time they were sharks.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. But I’ve decided that ‘piranhas’ is a more fitting term. They swarm on you and pick away until you’re nothing left but bones.”
Dad seemed to consider this for a moment. “Huh. I guess so. Reminds me of your mother’s friends before we were married.”
I liked it when he talked about Mom like this, casually. For a long time after her death, he wouldn’t talk about her at all. Then, suddenly, he’d blind side me on a Sunday afternoon, recalling their first date, first kiss, first walk in the park, first baseball game, and so on. Mom had become the elephant in the room. I hated those times. Now, he could talk about her fondly. That meant I could talk about her too.
“Let’s not keep the piranhas waiting,” he said, tipping his hat in a bootleg fashion and strolling into the parlor. I followed, adjusting my polo and feeling like a real jackass.
The parlor was equally as lovely as the lobby. Though its name gave it a cozy sound, in reality, it was an exceedingly large space. Floor to ceiling arched windows covered three of the four walls. Stairs on either side of the entrance led to a second level that matched the first but for a giant hole in the middle. From there, country clubbers could look down on those entering, figuratively and literally. Chandeliers hung high over the tables. Though tablecloths hid the tables themselves, the high backed chairs with ornate backings hinted at some truly quality (if not a bit gaudy) furniture.
My Dad and I chose a table near a window. Though it was not strictly reserved for him, he considered this table his regular. It overlooked a sloping bit of woods that lost itself to a miniature creek. The occasional rabbit could be seen skittering away the way rabbits do. My Dad liked laughing at them and commenting on the colors of the birds. On a really good day, a cardinal would come through and he’d spend what felt like an hour discussing the reasons why male birds were so much flashier than female ones.
As we sat there, gazing out at the creek and considering our menus, there was a conga line of Dad’s friends coming to greet us at the table. I hated this the most about country clubs. Eating in the parlor was like going to a restaurant where everybody knows you and feels entitled to bother you. Of course, my Dad relished it. He was like a king on his throne, recognizing his subjects as they passed. I, on the other hand, maintained that, if I didn’t come here with you, I don’t want to talk to you. I did my best to smile and shake hands and exchange pleasantries. I was a terrible country clubber, but I was a good son.
“Francis,” a man in a tweed getup said with way too much pressure on the ‘a’. “You missed out last weekend. We had a string quartet out on the green. Cocktails and everything.”
“Yeah Cutter, I heard. Can’t catch ‘em all though. I was on a trip.”
“I heard. Vegas huh? Midlife getting you down?” Cutter gave a shockingly healthy laugh considering how nasal his voice sounded.
“That’s the one. And I don’t just recommend it for mid-life. Go there any time and you’ll have a blast.”
“No kidding. I would, but the missus would lay into me real good.” Cutter leaned forward, one hand cupping his mouth, as if his wife were waiting just around the corner to bite his head off.
“That she would. Well, that’s the bachelor life I guess. You miss out on a string quartet every once in a while.” Dad grinned and tipped his glass toward Cutter.
Thankfully, it appeared that Cutter was the last of our admirers. It was just in time too as the waiter brought over a shrimp cocktail and some dry martinis. I cherished the olive for a moment, mashing it joyfully between my teeth. I did not often drink martinis, but when I did, this was my favorite part. The pop of vodka in my mouth reminded me of gushers from when I was a kid. Only, these gushers could get you drunk.
“So.” I narrowed my eyes at my Dad. “Vegas? You didn’t tell me you were going on a trip?”
“What’s the matter kid? Worried your Dad has more of a night life than you these days?”
“No. Not really.” I grinned at him. “Vegas just doesn’t seem like you, Mr. organization, responsibility, synergy, whatever.”
“Well, I’m learning too late in life that life is, in fact, short. I wanted to step out a little and what better place to do that than the city that never sleeps?”
“That’s New York. Las Vegas is Sin City.”
“Even better!”
I laughed and popped a shrimp into my mouth. I liked seeing my Dad like this. He’d been wound too tightly for too long. I just wondered why he wanted to tell me about his trip here. It would have been way more fun to discuss at a pub downtown.
“So, you had fun?”
“Oh yes.”
“Win any money?”
“A little. Although I didn’t do as much gambling as I’d planned.”
“No? Why’s that. Decided to catch a magic show instead?”
“No smart-ass. I met someone.”
I almost choked on my second shrimp. Dad met someone? The same man who had been on three dates in the past ten years and hated all of them?
“Was it terrible?” I asked suspiciously.
“No. It was wonderful. I really enjoyed her company.”
“Her? So it was a human woman?”
“Yes, she was a human woman. Jesus Cole, I’m not that out of practice.”
“I’m just saying, if you’re last three dates are a testament to anything, human women are not your favorite people.”
“What are you talking about? Those ladies were lovely.”
I paused and took a tour through memory lane. Three years after Mom’s death, he had tried to clamber back onto the wagon. Most of what he’d described of the date made it sound like a lovely evening. But then he started complaining that he didn’t like the way she’d ordered her meal. He hated how she pronounced gnocchi with too much ‘o’. Apparently, and this was news to me, that makes a date completely unsuitable for further consideration.
His second date was with a gorgeous socialite. Five years after Mom’s death, Dad took her to a museum and the park. By all accounts, it should have been a lovely date. However, she liked juice cleanses. I remembered Dad calling me in a huff, exclaiming that he could never love a woman on a cleanse.
His third date was probably the most promising. Seven years after Mom’s death he went to the Arboretum and, later, to an Italian bistro in the North End with an adorable bookshop owner. That one ended with a kiss. When Dad told me, I thought he’d finally found someone he could explore a relationship with. Alas, she was two inches too short. Unbeknownst to me, my Dad has an ideal height range and she didn’t make the cut.
“So what’s wrong with this one?” I didn’t hesitate to ask.
“Nothing. She’s perfect. She’s beautiful and free-spirited.”
“Does she like cleanses?”
“No. But it would be ok if she did.”
“Really? So is this true love?” I smirked over my nearly empty martini glass.
“You know. I think so.”
What? True love? In ten years, he can’t find a woman he can stand. He spends one trip with one and suddenly they’re meant to be?
“So…Dad…I gotta ask.”
“Ask away. I’m an open book.”
“Are you still drunk from Vegas?”
“No. But that is neither here nor there. I love her sober. I love her drunk.”
I had to lean back for a second. I caught myself praying that a cardinal would flutter by the window and change the subject. Something wasn’t adding up here and
it made me very uncomfortable. After a few moments of respite, I thought I had the answer.
“I get it. I do. You had a great trip with a woman in an exotic place. You remember her fondly because you know you’ll never see her again. It’s a big step forward for you Dad, it really is.” I tried to look impressed, but my head was still spinning.
“Actually. She lives in the area. On Monday, I would like you to meet her.”
I supposed this must be what going crazy feels like. Meet her? Monday?
“I can’t Dad. There’s only a week before the restaurant opens. Moneka will kill me if I take off. Even for an hour.”
“Well, it would be longer than an hour. It’s really important to me, Cole. You recall my track record? This is a big deal.”
I did recall his track record, in vivid, Technicolor hilarity. I wasn’t just bullshitting though. Moneka might actually kill me if I disappear during the week.
“I can maybe do it if I have permission to tell Moneka that you’re dying from a wasting disease. I think that would be enough of a family emergency.”
“Very funny. Just tell her I had a heart attack, we can fake that.”
“Done. So what’s happening on Monday that you need me for the whole day anyway?”
“Oh. She’s moving in.”
I gave up. He was obviously messing with me at this point. I wondered how far he was going to try and take it. Did he have an actress lined up with a bunch of stuff piled in a truck? Why did he feel the need to tease me anyway?
“Very funny Dad. You really had me going there. And I thought you’d finally moved on.” I finished off the martini and placed it down with emphasis. “I’m going to go get another drink. When I come back, I want to know how Vegas really went.” I began to rise from my chair when I noticed a stern look on my father’s face.
“I am telling you how it really went,” he said. “I met a woman early on in my trip. We hit it off. We spent the time together. We fell in love. She is moving in on Monday and I would like you to help.”
I lowered myself back into my chair. I could barely feel the motion of it. Instead, I felt a thousand miles away, hovering over the golf course from space. This must be what an out-of-body experience feels like.
“Uh, ok,” I said.
“Ok?”
“Yeah. Ok. But…just…don’t you think this is moving just a little fast? You have to be messing with me.”
“I’m really not. I promise you, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t feel it was the right thing.”
“You hate feelings.”
“Not this time. At my age Cole, you start living again or you get ready to die. I’m living.”
I watched his expression closely, trying to appraise his take on this entire situation. I had no shortage of legitimate concerns. Was she in it for the money? A scam artist or gold digger of some kind? Was this just a stupid mistake that they would both regret the moment they see each other in the harsh light of New England? Whatever it was, it was clearly making him happy. I had no right to deny him that. If she could keep him from dying the slow country club death that he’d resigned himself to many years ago, then maybe it’s not all bad. At this point, any change, no matter how jarring, was evidence of new life. I could get behind that. Plus, if I was appropriately understanding, maybe he’d let me skip on the “playing golf” part of the afternoon.
9
MONEKA
When I had told Sonia that my Mom was moving out of her condo, she kept commenting on how ‘sad’ it was. I never thought about it being sad. I mostly thought about how little I approved of everything that was happening. I supposed that, in the movies, when the parents fly the coop, it’s sad for some people. Childhood memories get relegated to storage or sold to strangers. Pieces of the life you had before you were an adult are no longer preserved like a museum exhibit. That wasn’t my experience. I’d never lived in this condo. Mom bought it seven years ago after Kaila and I had gone to college. It wasn’t even sad then since we had moved so many times as children, chasing that most mythical of beasts, reasonable rent.
Helping my mother move was, therefore, not a particularly emotional experience. Unless the emotion in question is frustration. Right now, Kaila and I were packing the last of her boxes while she made half-hearted attempts to help us. To her credit, she had done most of the work over the weekend and I knew that she was very excited to move. However, the moving truck was due to arrive in less than two hours, and her kitchen wasn’t finished. I was tempted to yell at her that if she wanted to move in with this stranger so badly, she should try harder to get the job done.
“Mom, help me with these glasses. If you wrap them in the bubble wrap, I can work on fitting them into this box.” I tried very little to conceal my irritation.
“Of course, sweet-pea.” She picked up a glass and began wrapping it with one of the pieces I’d torn. As her fingers traced the design on the side, a far-away look crept into her eyes. “Oh you remember these?”
“Yes Mom.” She had asked me if I remembered something about three thousand times this morning already. That was why she was incapable of being productive. I found it best, at this point, to just say yes whether I remembered or not.
“That was such a lovey gift. Oh that party was fantastic wasn’t it? Best Christmas party I’ve ever thrown. Sherrie and Tucker from downstairs both got sick over the balcony. You remember that?”
“Yes Mom.”
“And they’d been drinking from different eggnog bowls? Sherrie liked it spicy so he had the one with the red dye and Tucker had the green one? They’re vomit was red and green.”
“It was very festive if I recall.” Kaila called from the dining room where she was carefully laying out decorative plates.”
“Mom.” I placed my hand on hers to draw her out of memory lane. “You’re not leaving the glasses behind. They’re coming with you.”
Mom laughed and settled the glass gently on the counter. “I know. But, Sherrie and Tucker aren’t. Neither is the balcony.” She turned toward the sliding door, indicating the balcony with one hand. Pausing there, she seemed to consider it for a long moment. “Do you think Francis’ place will have a balcony?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “It won’t have a Sherrie and Tucker though. Not to worry. These two will travel.”
I watched my mother closely as she pulled herself away from the balcony and started working on the glasses again. I couldn’t help but feel for her a little. True, she’d only been here seven years. But, that was a long time for some people. Seven years was as close to having a stable home as she’d ever gotten. I made a mental note to be more sympathetic. She was making a significant change. Hopefully, this guy would be worth it.
My sympathy was finite though, as soon as she started in on the corner of carpet that she had seared when one of her candles had fallen from its perch, I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on the box at hand. Reminiscing wasn’t going to get us any more ready for that truck.
“Oh. I still can’t believe I did that. That’ll be a hole in my security deposit for sure. Do you two remember how that happened?”
“Yes Mom,” we said in unison.
“Julie and I had too many of them lit and had too much wine. Oh that’ll do it. That was the night after her split with Frank. She really does have abysmal taste in men.” She placed a hand against her cheek, gazing at the scorch mark as if it were her child graduating from High School. “It could have been this weekend; it feels so recent.”
“But it wasn’t this weekend,” I reminded her. “This weekend you packed your apartment so you could move in with some guy you’ve known for little more than a week. And you’re not getting there any faster standing around and cooing at burns in your carpet.” My tone was so frosty, it gave my sister a chill.
“I won’t even have carpet in the new house.” She continued as if I’d never spoken. I felt deliberately ignored. “All hard wood flooring. Maybe that’s for the best.” She said that like the choice
of whether or not to have carpet was on par with choosing to put your pet down. Maybe it’s for the best. Please. I looked at her scornfully and imagined her thinking about what a carpet-less life will be like.
“Mom. If you’re just going to reminisce, can you reminisce while getting more packing peanuts from the van?” I tried to make my sigh as audible as possible.
As she went in search of more packing material, Kaila stole back into the kitchen. She turned to the cupboard for more plates. Holding a stack firmly in hand, she adopted a whimsical look and traced the edges of the dishes.
“These plates. These plates!” She cried.
Grabbing my shoulder, she spun me around and I almost lost the glass I was holding. “Kaila! You could have…”
“Do you remember these plates? How we used to eat off of them? They would hold our food so proudly. Then we would put them each in the dishwasher and they would get clean?”
I wanted to tell Kaila we didn’t have time for this, but the simpering look on her face made me erupt in laughter. I allowed myself a moment of repose as I enjoyed Kaila’s little joke.
Encouraged, she continued. “Then we would stack them, one right on top of the other, in the cupboard. They stacked so perfectly. Almost…well, almost as if they were designed that way.”
“Stop.” I was choking with laughter. Kaila had succeeded in getting me to make the high wheezing noise that she cherished so much. I sounded like a cartoon foghorn.
“Stop.” I managed to make the second one more audible.
“Why? She's not going to.” Kaila rolled his eyes and turned back to the plates.
“I know. Which is why I need you more than ever right now. You know how those moving guys get. If we’re not ready to go it’ll be an earful and probably a billion dollars in bullshit fees. We are so close to finishing. Can we please just get this done?”
“I know I know. Hey, I’ve been working in here. This is the last of the plates. Then I’ll help you with the glasses, we’ll give the place a sweep, and we’ll be golden.”
I still had the tears of laughter in my eyes when Mom returned with the peanuts. She paused and gazed at me suspiciously.