by Cyndi Myers
I hadn’t thought about it like that before. “I guess I always thought a wedding should be a solemn, sacred affair,” I said.
“Maybe. Then again, it’s all the stuff that comes after you say ‘I do’ that determines how solemn or sacred it is. The wedding is just the party to get things started.”
I nodded. “I’ve always wanted a big, fancy wedding like the ones they show in bridal magazines.” The idea of being a fairy princess for a day appealed to me. But that was just a dream, and real life so seldom measured up to dreams. “I guess all I really want is to settle down with a good man. Everything else is just trimmings.”
“Then see? Elvis would be perfect. Especially a Grandpa Elvis. He sounds sweet.”
“He was sweet.” We paused at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. I pulled my shirt away from my chest, hoping for a breeze to dry the sweat. “He told me that instead of looking for a place where I fit in, I should find a place I liked and make it fit me.”
“Sounds like Grandpa is pretty smart.” She surprised me with a wink. “Besides, I think fitting in is overrated. It’s the noncomformists in the world who stand out. And they probably have more fun than the rest of us.”
The light changed and we crossed the street and passed in front of a brightly painted storefront. Vegas Tattoo, proclaimed the sign in bright pink neon.
“Did you know I have a tattoo?” Alice asked.
“No, you never mentioned that.” Not that I was shocked. Alice had always struck me as the type who’d try anything once. “What is it?”
“A hummingbird and some flowers.”
“And where is it?”
“On my right breast. Or where my right breast used to be. After I’d stared at the scar from my mastectomy for a year or so, I decided to put something beautiful there.”
“So you decided not to have reconstruction?”
“I just couldn’t face another surgery, and keeping the scar was sort of my badge of honor. My reminder of everything I’d been through, and that I was still here, still fighting.”
“Why a hummingbird?”
“Because they’re beautiful and look fragile, but they’re about the toughest creatures in nature.”
I smiled at her. “Like you.”
“At least the tough part.”
“The rest, too. You are beautiful, and to some people you probably look fragile.”
“But not to you?”
“I know better.” We reached the Venetian and followed the crowd inside. “I think it was really gutsy of you to decorate your scar that way.”
“We all have scars,” she said. “I just didn’t want to hide mine anymore.” She reached out and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I’m glad you know the truth about me and my kids, and I’m glad you understand. I was afraid you’d hate me if I told you.”
“I don’t hate you.” I didn’t really understand, either. How could a mother abandon her children that way?
Then a sharp pain of realization pinched at me as I thought of the way Frannie and I had left our mother after our father died. She’d seemed distant and uncaring at the time, but maybe that was only a way of walling off the hurt. Why hadn’t I thought of her that way before? Was it because Frannie had told me over and over that Mother didn’t need us?
Or because it was easier to believe that than to deal with my guilt?
I believed Alice was truly sorry for what she’d done, and that she’d suffered for it. “I’m glad you told me the truth. That took a lot of courage, too.” More than I’d ever had.
“It feels like a weight has been lifted, knowing you know.” She grinned at me. “We should celebrate.”
“No more mai tais or dirty martinis,” I said.
She laughed. “Not that kind of celebration. Tonight let’s put on our fancy new dresses and treat ourselves to a really nice dinner. We’ll see the show, then try some real gambling.”
“Real gambling?”
“Not those Mickey Mouse slot machines. Let’s hit the table games—blackjack, craps and roulette. We’ll flirt with all the handsome men and pretend we’re high rollers.”
My Vegas fantasy come to life. “Let’s do it.”
Martin called that afternoon while I was waiting for my turn in the shower. “I saw your number on my caller ID last night,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. We’re in Vegas.” I shoved Cocoa over and lay back on the bed, the phone cradled to my ear.
“Won any money yet?”
“No. I’m a terrible gambler.”
“So am I. Too conservative, I guess.”
I bit back a laugh. The man didn’t know conservative. He should meet Frannie, a woman who kept all her retirement money in a regular savings account because she didn’t trust the stock market. “Where were you when I called?” I asked, then immediately regretted the question. What business was it of mine?
“I had to deliver flowers for a funeral that was held this morning.”
“You do a lot of funerals,” I said.
“Weddings and funerals. The big events in most people’s lives.”
I thought again how different our lives were. Martin was so involved in his community, there for every milestone—at least in the form of the flowers he provided. In my condo in Bakersfield, where the sun shone most of the time and the weather was always perfect, I lived in a fantasy world, scripted drama and artificial occasions replacing real human events. I’d loved it because it was safe and predictable, but I realized now it was also a world where I never really had to feel anything—good or bad.
“I was thinking about something you said before,” I said. “When you suggested I open a retail business to go along with my movie work. I think I’d like that.”
“You’d be good at it,” he said. “You’re very empathetic.”
“How could you know that just from talking to me on the phone?”
“I heard what you and Alice did for Ruth. And you’ve told me how concerned you are for Alice. And you took in that stray dog.”
“Alice took in the dog. I just happened to be in the truck, too.”
“A minor detail. The thing is, you’re a warm and compassionate person. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”
I wanted to ask him to list what else he liked about me but thought that would be too self-serving. “Thanks,” I said. “I really like you, too.”
“I’m glad to hear you say it. I hope we’re going to be friends for a long time.”
The words made me feel funny in the pit of my stomach. I sat up and took a deep breath. The bathroom door opened and Alice came out, rubbing her hair with a towel. “I have to go now,” I said. “It’s my turn in the shower.”
“The idea of us being friends shouldn’t make you nervous,” he said.
“Of course not!” I stood and began pacing. “That sounds great. I really do have to go.”
“Goodbye, then. Have fun tonight.”
“Bye.”
I closed the phone and laid it on the bedside table.
“Was that Martin?” Alice asked.
I nodded. My face felt hot and I covered my cheeks with my hands, trying to cool them.
“What did he say to get you so flustered?” Alice asked. She took a comb from the dresser and ran it through her spiky hair.
Pretty much everything Martin said left me flustered, trying to make sense of a tangle of feelings. “He said he wants us to be friends.”
“I thought you were already friends.”
I wet my lips. “But I think he really meant more than friends.”
She smiled at me in the mirror. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
I nodded again, feeling foolish and helpless and more than a little silly. “I think…” I hesitated, then tried again. “I think Martin is a little like Frannie’s prom dress.”
Alice laid down the comb. “Come again?”
I twisted my hands. “I’m not explaining this well at all. What I mean is
that, well, you know how I told you Frannie hid her prom dress so our dad wouldn’t take it away?” She nodded.
“I think…I think I still do that sometimes. When I really, really want something I try not to let it show. In case something happens to take it away.”
A soft look of sympathy filled her eyes. “And you really want Martin.”
“I think so. Yes.”
She turned and put her hand on my arm. “Then don’t give in to your fear,” she said. “You’ll be okay.”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah.” I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that I would be okay—that the future would be a happy one, even better than any fantasy I could create. I wanted to believe, but I hadn’t had much practice yet.
Alice and I put on our slinky sequined dresses and highest heels, coiffed our hair and used every trick in our cosmetics bags. Afterward, we stood side by side and studied our reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Are we a couple of hot babes or what?” Alice asked.
“We’ll have to fight the men off,” I said, half believing it as I stared at the glamorous, skinny version of myself I’d only imagined before now. Despite all the weight I’d lost and all the new clothes, most of the time when I looked in the mirror I still saw a plainer, plumper version of me that I now realized was firmly in the past.
We had dinner at the Lutece, overlooking the Grand Canal in the Venetian. Sitting at the white-draped table, surrounded by the other diners dressed in their finest, I could immerse myself in my fantasy of wealthy woman about town. We flirted shamelessly with the waiter, who flattered us by flirting back.
After dinner, we took a cab to Treasure Island for Mystère and marveled at the acrobats and clowns. A pair of handsome older men bought us drinks, but we declined their invitation to spend the evening with them. “This is a girls’ night out,” Alice said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the casino.
Over the next couple of hours, I learned I was horrible at blackjack. The rules of craps confused me and I was intimidated by the überserious poker players.
But I found my calling at the roulette wheel. A game where the chief elements you had to remember were even, odd, red or black was just my speed. I enjoyed a heady dose of beginner’s luck as well, winning again and again. Soon I had a pile of chips in front of me and an appreciative crowd around me, including a number of handsome men, some of whom even wore tuxedos.
I leaned forward and placed a stack of chips on the first range of numbers and waited for the dealer to spin the wheel.
I glanced up to smile at Alice and a tall man moved into my field of vision. He was so familiar I was sure at first I was dreaming. He looked right at me, his expression bland, and I almost doubled over in pain. I had to grab on to the edge of the table and started shaking uncontrollably.
13
“Ellen? Ellen, are you okay?” I was dimly aware of Alice calling me.
“Move back. Give her some air.” Alice clutched my shoulders and shook me gently. “Ellen, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay.” I stared at the spot where the man had been, but he was gone. Had I imagined the whole encounter? Was my conscience playing tricks on me?
Someone brought a glass of ice water and I drank half of it in one gulp. “I…I’m tired,” I said, pushing the glass away. “I think I’d better go back up to the room.” I turned to go, leaving my chips on the table, but Alice remembered to collect them. She swept the pile into her purse, then put her arm around me and led me toward the elevator.
By the time we got up to the room, I was feeling more stable and very foolish. “I’m sorry,” I said, and sank onto the edge of my bed. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Cocoa came over and shoved her nose under my hand and whimpered. I absently rubbed her ears.
“What happened?” Alice shoved her purse into the room safe and locked it, then came and sat across from me on the other bed. “One minute you were fine, then the next you looked like you were going to pass out.”
“It’s silly.” I stared at the floor.
“Try me.”
I took a deep breath. If she could trust me with the secret she’d revealed last night, I could tell her this. “I swear I saw a man who looked just like my father. As if his ghost was right there in front of me.”
“A doppelgänger,” Alice said.
“A what?”
“A doppelgänger. It means double in German. Someone who looks just like someone else.”
“I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“It’s happened to me before, too.”
“It has?”
She nodded. “I’ve seen men who reminded me of both my ex-husbands. It’s unnerving to say the least.”
“No kidding.” I still felt queasy with the aftereffects of the encounter. “I know he’s dead, but there he was—it was too creepy.”
“I guess it’s like they say—the past always comes back to haunt us.”
The idea angered me. “Why should it have to?”
“Retribution? Redemption? Karma?” She shook her head. “All I know is I’ve been trying to put my past behind me for years and I never could. I’m hoping things will be better for me now that I’ve decided to own up to my mistakes and face the consequences, but I can’t be sure.”
“We can’t make amends for every mistake we’ve made in life,” I protested. “That’s impossible.”
“You’re probably right. But it’s impossible to forget them, either.”
“I just want to forget about my father,” I said. “I don’t want him—or his doppelgänger—sneaking up on me when I least expect it.”
“Maybe you need to do something to bury him again.”
I shuddered. “How would I do that?” Frannie had accused me of digging up the past when I’d gone back to Ridgeway, but I don’t think she had this in mind.
“I don’t know.” Alice lay back on the bed, her feet still on the floor. “Don’t mind me. It’s probably just a weird coincidence and it doesn’t mean anything. Or maybe it’s your Puritan conscience getting back at you for winning at roulette.”
“You think I have a Puritan conscience?”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that, but I’m guessing living it up in Vegas is not exactly your style.”
“I’m doing a lot of things on this trip I’ve never done before,” I said. “That’s sort of the point.”
I had left home unsure of what I wanted from life now that I’d met my goal of losing weight. I only knew I hadn’t found it yet—not in Virginia or Kansas or Las Vegas. Maybe Alice was right—I couldn’t move forward because the past continued to drag at me, an anchor pulling me down.
“Good for you.” Alice sat up again and looked at me. “Maybe it’s all part of making your own place in the world, like Grandpa Elvis talked about.”
“What would seeing my dad have to do with that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You’re sort of leaving your old life behind, right?”
I nodded.
“Then maybe your dad just stopped by to say goodbye.”
I called Frannie the next morning, needing to hear her voice. “Where are you?” she asked, then before I could even answer: “When are you coming home?”
“I’m in Las Vegas. I should be home in a few days.”
“What are you doing in Las Vegas?”
Planning an Elvis-themed wedding. “I’m doing what people usually do in Las Vegas. Gambling. Seeing some shows.”
“It’s a waste of money.” She sniffed.
“I won more than four hundred dollars playing roulette last night.”
She had no answer for that. “I went over and cleaned your place yesterday,” she said. “There was dust everywhere and everything in the refrigerator was bad. I threw it all out.”
I winced at the idea of Frannie tossing out my rotten eggs and spoiled milk. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I would have taken care of that when I got back.”
“I changed your diapers when you were a baby. That was a lot worse than dealing with spoiled food.”
I made a face. Frannie brought up the diaper thing as a way of putting me in my place—a not-so-subtle reminder that there was nothing about me she didn’t know. “You were three years old when I was born,” I said. “You couldn’t have done much diaper changing.”
“I was five by the time you were toilet trained. Believe me, I changed my share.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t call to argue over my diapers,” I said.
“Then why did you call? To brag about your gambling winnings?”
She was peeved, though whether at me or at life in general I couldn’t tell. “I called because I wanted to talk to my sister. I’ve missed you.”
A long silence, then, “I’ve missed you, too.”
“I had an odd thing happen to me last night,” I said. “While I was playing roulette, I looked up and saw a man who looked just like Daddy.”
“You never did hold your liquor well.”
“I wasn’t drinking. I just looked up and there he was. It was such a shock I almost fainted.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor when you get home. When was the last time you had a complete checkup?”
“I’m not sick. Or crazy.” At least I didn’t think I was. “Alice says it was a doppelgänger—Dad’s double.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Then she changed the subject again. “I’ve been working on a new scrapbook. It’s all about my most famous clients. I’m going to put it on display at the shop when I’m finished.”
I refused to let her avoid this topic anymore. “Do you ever think about him much? About Daddy?”
“No. Never.” The words were clipped. Final.
“I think about him all the time,” I admitted. “Even when I don’t want to.” Lately I’d been thinking about him more than ever. Wondering if things could have ever been different between us. Could I have done something, said something—
“Don’t,” Frannie said. “No good will come of it.”
I pushed on, refusing to drop the subject, no matter how painful it was. “When I was in Ridgeway, I thought I should go by the cemetery, visit his and Mama’s graves. But I couldn’t make myself do it.”