by Cyndi Myers
I stared at her, stunned and relieved by her outburst. “I never said there was.”
“But you were thinking it. You’d never pick up a man in a bar and take him back to a hotel, would you?”
“No. But then I don’t have the kind of confidence you do. I haven’t had a lot of experience with men.”
“Ha! You think I spent the night with Tom because I’m confident?”
I frowned. “Didn’t you?”
She shook her head, then stared out the windshield for a long moment, biting her lip. She blew out a breath and straightened her arms, pressing back against the seat. “Have you dated much?” she asked.
“Not much.” I shifted. I could count on one hand the number of actual dates I’d had in my life. I told myself it was because no one wanted to date a fat girl, but then again, I’d never given anyone a chance, my attitude as much as my bulk keeping other people at a distance. I sighed. “Hardly at all, actually.”
“Well, I dated a lot. After Travis left I told myself I didn’t need him, that there were plenty of men out there who were better-looking or had more money, and who would really appreciate me.” She glanced at me. “But I think what I was really trying to do was prove to myself that a man could still want me.”
“Of course they wanted you,” I said. “You’re pretty and fun to be with. You were always popular in school.”
“Yeah, well, the older you get, the less that counts for anything. I didn’t want to get married again, but I didn’t want to be alone, either, so I always had a boyfriend.” She shrugged. “It was part of my life, like having a job and a car and a good hairdresser. A man was another accessory.”
“It sounds…a little impersonal.” Depressing even.
“I don’t mean it that way. I did care about every one of the men I dated.” She ran her hands along the steering wheel. “But I never wanted to depend on them, you know?”
I nodded. “People can be undependable.”
“Exactly. And my last boyfriend proved that point ten times over.”
The bitterness in her voice made my stomach tighten in sympathy. “What did he do?” I asked.
“When I was diagnosed with cancer, he was as shocked as I was, but he swore he’d stand by me.” Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “But after the mastectomy, while I was still in the hospital, he told me he couldn’t handle it.” She took a ragged breath and swallowed. “He couldn’t handle having a lover who wasn’t a…a whole woman.”
Tears stung my eyes and I leaned toward her, but the still way she held herself warned me away. “That must have hurt a lot,” I said quietly.
“It did. But it made me mad, too. I said fuck him. I’ll show him. There are better men than him out there.”
Understanding opened a door in my brain. “Was Tom one of those better men?”
“I like to think so.” Her eyes met mine, a plea for understanding in them. “Sometimes I just need…I need that confirmation that I’m still a woman, even if I am a skinny one with no breasts.”
How much courage had it taken her to be with any man again after that kind of rejection? And here I sat, too afraid for too many years to so much as flirt with a man. “Oh, Alice…I never thought… I’m sorry.”
“Forget about it. I just wanted you to know there are a lot of reasons two people might decide to go to bed together—and some of them don’t have anything to do with sex.”
“I guess I’m really naive about these things.” I sighed, realizing once again just how sheltered I’d been. There was so much I didn’t know about, so much I wanted to know about, but I was torn between wanting to retreat to my safe cocoon—my condo and Frannie and my familiar job and acquaintances—and wanting to stay on the road forever, constantly experiencing new places and people. I couldn’t yet see my way to a middle ground.
Alice grinned at me. “I think two stunning, single babes like us deserve a break from the open road,” she said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I hear St. George, Utah, has a terrific outlet mall. How about we take a little detour for some retail therapy?”
“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in days.” I laughed. “I may not have much experience with men, but I am an expert shopper.”
Zion Factory Stores was a suburban paradise of designer closeouts, name-brand seconds and this year’s bargains that held the tantalizing promise of a “deal.” We left Cocoa at an adjacent motel and set out to make our contribution to the local economy.
“We should check out Bass and Factory Brand for shoes,” I said, studying the directory. “Tuesday Morning is a good place to look for household stuff and this time of year Ralph Lauren will have end-of-season mark-downs on women’s clothing.”
Alice stared at me as we set off across the central plaza toward the Ralph Lauren store. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were an expert at this.”
I shrugged and failed at an attempt to look modest. “When I was fat, I was determined not to look frumpy. I learned which designers had clothes in my size and bought the best pieces I could afford. And of course, my choice in shoes and purses wasn’t limited, so I always had fabulous accessories.”
“When you lost all that weight, you must have been like a kid in a candy store.”
I nodded. “I had to limit myself at first, I was so afraid I might replace one obsession with another.” I pulled open the door to Ralph Lauren and we stepped inside. I paused to take a deep breath. The wonderful smell of new cotton and polyester and leather filled my senses. There’s no other aroma quite like it.
“You look great,” Alice said. “Maybe you could help me pick out some things that would flatter me. I’ve been wearing the same styles for so long I’m not even sure what would look good.”
“I can definitely help you there. Come on.” I took her arm and led her toward a rack of dresses. “Let’s pick out some things to try on.”
For the next four hours we literally “shopped till we dropped.” We tried on shoes, dresses, pants, blouses and jackets. We tied scarves and modeled purses. We paraded in evening gowns and draped ourselves in costume jewelry. And we laughed and laughed.
“I wish I had you to shop with all the time,” I said as we sank into chairs in the food court, our purchases piled around us. “It’s never this much fun by myself.”
“Doesn’t Frannie go with you?” Alice shoved a tall paper cup of diet soda toward me and took a long sip from her own drink.
“Frannie has no interest in clothes,” I said. “She wears a black beautician’s smock over black slacks and a black sweater at work and when she gets home in the evenings, she changes into sweats. I’ve tried to get her to let me dress her up, but she refuses. She thinks black is slimming and chic. I think it makes her look like she’s in mourning all the time.”
“Doesn’t she ever go out?” Alice asked. “With friends or on a date?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She’s even more of a recluse than I was.” It hurt to think of Frannie, alone and hiding from the world. I’d come a long way toward healing the hurt in my own heart. If only I could find a way to heal hers, as well.
“When I’m settled in Ojai, you’ll have to come see me,” Alice said. “I won’t let you be a recluse anymore.”
“It’s a deal.” I looked at the shopping bags scattered at my feet. “What are we going to do with all our fabulous new clothes?”
“I have an idea.” She pulled out a sequined minidress that had been a steal on the clearance rack and held it in front of her. “Don’t you think this would look great in Las Vegas?”
“Las Vegas? Are you serious?”
“Why not? We’re free, single and over twenty-one. Let’s live it up.”
The idea made my heart race. I had a sudden image of myself in a fabulous gown, winning at roulette, surrounded by handsome men in tuxedos, a glass of champagne in my hand. Why not live it up? “Let’s do it!”
She raised her cup of soda in a toast and I joined her. �
��To Las Vegas,” I said.
“To Vegas,” she echoed, then added, “Sin city, here we come!”
The morning after our shopping expedition, I woke up excited about our trip. Alice and I needed a fun break from the road and Vegas seemed perfect.
But when I returned from taking Cocoa for her morning walk, I was surprised to find Alice still in bed. “Get up, sleepyhead,” I said. “Vegas is waiting.” I pulled open the drapes, flooding the room with harsh sunlight.
Alice moaned and rolled over, her hand covering her eyes. “I can’t go today,” she mumbled into the sheets.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I hurried to the bedside. Cocoa jumped up beside Alice and whined.
“I’m sick,” Alice moaned.
“What kind of sick? Is it the flu? Do you need to see a doctor?” I fluttered my hands, feeling helpless. I wasn’t good at dealing with sick people. Frannie and I were almost never ill.
“I think I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.” She rolled onto her back again and looked up at me. Her skin was ashy, almost translucent, the blue veins visible beneath the surface. Her eyes were sunken, dark circles beneath them.
I bit my lip, unsure whether to fuss or leave her alone. “Are you in pain?” I asked. “Should we call a doctor?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I just need to rest. Get my strength back.” She closed her eyes again. “I just need to rest,” she said again. “I’ll be fine, really.”
I looked at her a long moment, undecided. “If you needed to see a doctor, you’d tell me, right?” I asked.
“I’d tell you.” She pulled up the covers. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow, I’m sure. Go do something fun.”
Reluctant to leave her, yet even more reluctant to spend the day in a darkened hotel room, waiting for Alice to throw up or pass out or worse, I collected my purse and Cocoa’s leash. “You have my cell number if you need me,” I said.
She made a noise I took for consent. I snapped the leash to Cocoa’s collar and we fled the room.
I didn’t know what opportunities for fun were available in St. George. I could return to the outlet mall, but with Cocoa in tow I wouldn’t be able to do much shopping. I saw a sign for Historic Downtown and decided to check it out, though it meant driving the moving truck, not exactly a convenient method of transportation.
Thankfully I was able to find parking in a lot two blocks off the main street, and Cocoa and I set out walking. We amused ourselves window-shopping the boutiques and antiques shops in the restored downtown area.
The sign on a café caught my eye and I had to stop. The Two Sisters was set back from the street a little, with a wrought-iron fence enclosing a patio area with tables for outdoor dining. I studied the menu that was posted on a marquee by the gate.
“We don’t allow dogs inside, but you’re welcome to sit out here on the patio.” A pretty teenage girl looked up from laying out silverware on one of the tables.
It was barely past eleven, but I was hungry, so I opened the gate and led Cocoa to a table in a corner. “What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked.
“Iced tea would be nice,” I said.
“I’ll be right back with a menu.”
As the waitress was entering the restaurant, a striking older woman, her gray hair in a neat chignon, stepped out. “Are you the bride?” she asked.
I looked around, but no one else had arrived. “The bride?” I asked.
The woman shook her head. “I take it you’re not. We do catering, too, and I’m expecting a bride this morning to go over the menu for her reception.” She checked her watch. “She’s already ten minutes late.”
“No, I’m not her.” I resisted the urge to apologize, though the woman had the kind of schoolteacher demeanor that always made me feel I was guilty of something.
“I wondered about the dog, but I did do one wedding where the matron of honor was a golden retriever and the best man was a German shepherd,” she said. “I had to make special dinners for both of them.”
“I did flowers once for a wedding where the bride and groom were Lhasa apsos,” I said. “I’m a florist near L.A.”
“Oh, L.A.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t surprise me a bit.”
The gate squeaked and I turned to see another woman coming up the walk. She was older than I was, but younger than the gray-haired woman. Turned out she wasn’t the bride, either.
“Did you remember to call Mr. Anderson about the problem with the drains?” the older woman demanded. “And I hope you didn’t let him put you off until next week. He needs to see to it today.”
“I spoke to him and he’s going to take care of it,” the younger woman said placidly. She straightened a vase of flowers on one of the tables, a half smile on her lips.
“Did you get those forms we needed from the tax office?” The older woman followed the younger one to another table. “And did you talk to Anthony about working the Wuensche family reunion next weekend?”
“It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry.”
They both went inside as the waitress emerged with my glass of tea, a bowl of water and a menu. “I thought your dog might like a drink, too,” she said, setting the bowl in front of Cocoa, who wagged her tail and began lapping at the water.
“I take it those are the two sisters,” I said, nodding toward the entrance to the restaurant.
“Yes. That’s Karen and Kelly.”
“Have they had this place long?”
“Twenty years, can you believe it?” The waitress grinned. “I could never be in business with my sister. She’s too bossy.”
“Older sisters tend to be that way,” I said.
She left me to study the menu and I thought about sisters. At one time, Frannie had tried to talk me into going to beauty school and joining her at her salon. I’d hated the idea of doing hair and nails for a living and had told her so.
I wondered now if I should have stood up to Frannie more often. It had been easier to go along with most of her ideas, but I wasn’t sure I’d done either of us any favors by being so acquiescent.
The sisters came out of the restaurant again. The older was carrying a pitcher of ice water, the younger a stack of trays, which they carried to a serving station in the opposite corner. “I think you should wear the blue pantsuit to the Chamber dinner,” the older sister was saying.
“That’s your favorite, isn’t it?” the younger sister replied. “Maybe I will wear it.”
I winced at words that sounded too familiar to me. Was this how Frannie and I appeared to outsiders? Silently I rooted for the younger sister to tell her older sibling to back off, that she was capable of choosing her own clothes.
The waitress emerged again. “Mom, we’re almost out of Asiago cheese,” she said.
The younger sister smiled at the girl. “There’s a delivery this afternoon, but thanks for letting me know.”
I could see the resemblance between the teenager and the younger sister now. They both had honey-blond hair and dimples when they smiled.
The waitress was still smiling when she approached my table. “Have you decided what you’d like?”
“I’ll have the Greek sandwich,” I said, handing her the menu.
“Great. It’ll be right out.”
When she was gone, I returned my attention to the women, who were bickering over the arrangement of tables. The gate squeaked again and a good-looking man entered. He was dressed in jeans and a pale pink shirt that stretched across broad shoulders, a touch of gray at his temples. He walked over and kissed the younger woman on the cheek. “Hello, beautiful,” he said. “Wanna buy me lunch?”
The younger sister’s eyes sparkled. “Play your cards right and you can have dessert, too.”
The gate announced yet another arrival. A dark-haired young woman and a harried-looking older one bustled in. “I’m so sorry we’re late,” the older woman said. “We had a fitting at the bridal shop and it took forever.”
“That’s quite all
right. Why don’t you come inside.” The older sister led them away. The younger sister and her husband followed, their arms around each other. He stopped in the doorway to greet the waitress, who hurried over with my sandwich.
I smiled to myself, remembering the cozy domestic scene. Maybe I was wrong about the younger sister. Maybe she didn’t feel the need to argue with her older sibling because she was aware of all her blessings, and didn’t begrudge her sister the illusion of control.
After all, it was just an illusion. No one else can really control your life unless you let them.
12
Though she still looked pale, the next morning Alice said she was feeling well enough to head for Vegas. We arrived that afternoon and I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Anyplace where the predominant decorating theme is rhinestones and neon and nobody thinks twice about seeing Elvis walk by is not the real world.
“It’s Disney for grown-ups,” Alice said as I followed her through the lobby of the Venetian Hotel, where we’d splurged and booked a room. Cocoa was tucked into an oversize tote bag slung over my shoulder. I could feel her shifting around in there, but she was being quiet. For all I knew, this fancy place allowed dogs, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
The Venetian Hotel was more opulent and definitely cleaner than the real Venice had ever been. From the elaborately frescoed ceiling to the canal winding through the adjacent shopping center and the musicians strolling through the lobby, I felt as if I’d stumbled into an over-the-top Italian restaurant. Just looking at the plastered columns made me hungry for cannoli.
Of course, there was more to the hotel than frescoes and canals. Even at registration I could hear the bells and whistles of the casino, which a brochure boasted was 120 thousand square feet, with twenty-five hundred slot machines.
“What should we do first?” I asked when we were settled in our room. Cocoa had curled up at the end of my bed and promptly gone to sleep, unimpressed by the grandeur of her surroundings.
Alice grinned. “I feel like a drink. Something fancy, with an umbrella and fruit in it.”
Ten minutes later, mai tais in hand, we stood in the lobby again, looking around.