She hadn’t thought about it until now, but as she looked at the photos on her desk, she realized that her husband wasn’t in any of them. Yet she was an only child, so it was her husband she called first, dialing his private cell line that was separate from his work number; the number was basically reserved for family emergencies. Your emergency contact, she thought. That’s the person you call when there is an emergency. Even if you couldn’t remember the last time you had dialed their number. Joe answered immediately.
“My mother,” Eva began. It took her a moment to even form the words. “Is dead. She died. In a car accident.”
“Oh, God. I am so sorry, Eva,” said Joe. “What happened? When?”
“She hit a deer on her way to her knitting class a few hours ago,” answered Eva, tears running down her face. “She didn’t suffer. I am taking the next flight home in two hours.”
“Are you ok to travel?” Joe asked.
“I guess so,” she said.
“Let me know what time your plane lands and I’ll pick you up from the airport. Call me when you land. I will speak with the boys.”
“Thank you,” said Eva, and she hung up the phone. And then she screamed, not loudly, but an aching, choked sound, before collapsing onto her desk in wrenching sobs.
Maggie placed the phone receiver down, devastated at her friend’s news, just as Ted walked into her shop. They had plans to go see Cabaret, which was playing at the historic downtown theatre Wes managed. It was “vintage movie night.” Ted looked handsome as always. She felt badly going out for a night on the town while Eva was in such a bad place, but Eva had told her they’d get together the next day when Eva was back home.
“What’s wrong?” said Ted. Even though she hadn’t said anything, Ted could see the concern etched on Maggie’s face.
“I just got some really sad news about Eva’s mother,” Maggie said. “She was in a car accident and died.” Maggie thought for a moment about how to this day she didn’t know if her own mother was alive or dead.
She had just left a lunch with Dave, and she was feeling conflicted; a feeling she was growing weary of. She couldn’t understand why she seemed to need so much attention from men (make that “people,” she thought), and it irked her. Do I really need to have multiple dates with my ex-husband and my lover (um, one of them) in the same day?
Maggie put down her copy of Madame Bovary. “And also, I was just reading our Scarlet Letter Society book club book, and I have a feeling things are going to go badly for the heroine somehow.”
“I’ve never read it, so I couldn’t tell you,” said Ted,. “But historically, women adulteresses don’t do very well, do they?”
“Not a bit,” said Maggie. “’Punish the Whore’ is a true literary theme for the ages.”
Maggie picked up her laptop to order flowers to send to Eva’s house. She thought about the irony of how annoyed she had been getting at the female characters in these books, when she wasn’t liking her own choices much better. She could only hope that like Isadora Wing, she’d burn through a bunch of madness and finally work it all out at the end. She sure as shit didn’t want the Karenina kill or the Wifey wimp-out for her own ending.
She realized how ridiculous it was that she felt lonely much of the time. Between her two ex-husbands (though technically she didn’t ever see the most recent ex), her two current lovers and some great girlfriends, she really should have no reason to feel lonely. But the fact of the matter was that most mornings she woke up alone. And for some reason, though going to bed could be lonely, especially if you woke up for some reason in the middle of the night, waking up and drinking coffee or eating breakfast alone was absolutely the loneliest thing in the world.
There was no lonely worse than coffee lonely.
“So how are things with your band?” she asked, changing the subject intentionally.
“Really good,” said Ted. “I may have to quit my day job!”
“For real?” said Maggie, genuinely happy. “That would be great.” She loved going out to listen to the band play, and the venues around Baltimore and DC had gotten bigger and bigger. She knew the band’s following had grown online and that Ted was exhausted trying to maintain a “real” 9 to 5 job in addition to writing music and singing for the band.
“Yeah, we’re heading down to Nashville for a week actually to play a few gigs and meet with a record producer there,” said Ted. “Not bad for a bunch of middle age guys everyone expects would be hanging out in local bars playing Jimmy Buffet cover songs by now.”
“Good for you, Ted,” said Maggie. “I’m really happy for you.” She walked over, hugged her handsome lover, and felt a pang of sadness. How much longer would this affair last? She knew he was seeing other women, though it wasn’t something they ever discussed, it was something she suspected. She hadn’t asked because she hadn’t wanted to know the answer.
“So are we ready to go watch Liza Minnelli do some jazz hands?” said Ted. She kissed him, squeezing his hand.
“Hell yeah,” she said. “Let’s go watch some vintage Broadway history while we make out in the back of the theatre.”
He laughed, and they held hands as they walked through the town together.
At the historic Patrick Theatre, Wes greeted them in the lobby.
“Well look what the cat dragged in,” he said.
“Nice to see you, too, Wesley,” said Maggie.
“Hello, there, Ted,” said Wes. “Didn’t know you were a Liza fan.”
“I’m a fan of anything playing here,” said Ted, “and as a musician it’s mandatory I have an appreciation for Judy Garland’s daughter.”
Ted and Maggie walked over to the bar and bought cocktails and candy: a pair of Caramellos.
“These are such a random candy to have,” said Maggie to Wes as she sipped her rum and Coke. “I love Caramellos. And you have Whatchamacallits and Zero bars, too. All my favorites.”
“We try to do a vintage candy thing to match the history of the theatre,” said Wes. “There are all kinds of candies through the ages.” He pointed out the display showing the decades: penny candy from the 20s all the way through the 90s and the 00s.
“This is such a great idea,” said Ted.
“Well, everyone gets sick of Sno-caps and M&Ms at regular movie theatres,” said Wes. “Though we do carry those, it’s fun to pick out candies from the vintage candy companies online. Can’t say I hate the candy buying part of my job.”
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room,” said Maggie, finishing her drink. “I’ll meet you inside in a sec.”
“Alright,” said Ted. “I’ll pick out great seats.”
And as Maggie walked back out of the ladies’ room, she saw a couple standing at the candy counter, where she had been just moments before. She’d recognize that longish curly hair and that flannel shirt a mile away, with the dressier jeans, not the ones with holes in them. It was Dave. And he was with an absolutely gorgeous woman about ten years younger than they were.
She should have ignored them, simply walked by and gone to her seat. But she didn’t. Something took over her common sense, and she marched right up to the unsuspecting couple, feeling like a complete hypocrite since her own lover was right inside the theatre.
“Hi Dave,” said Maggie in what she hoped was a genuine-sounding, neutral voice.
Dave looked a bit surprised, but her smiled at her warmly.
“Hello, Margaret,” he responded. Maggie looked at the younger woman. Her caramel-colored hair was in perfect blown-out curls, her makeup flawless, her black dress clinging in all the right places.
“Hi, I’m Maggie,” she boldly addressed her. “I’m Dave’s wife. Well, first wife. Nicer than the second wife, I’d argue.” Dave looked simultaneously annoyed and horrified. “It’s funny, from the back I would have thought you were one of our daughters.”
Dave cleared his throat (which Maggie recognized as essentially saying Fuck You under his breath.)
“Margar
et, this is Callie. She works at the national preservation office in PR.”
“Oh, a building saver,” said Maggie.
Callie looked at Maggie evenly and coolly, with a slight hint of condescension that made Maggie want to kick her in the shin, like she would’ve done to the bully on the blacktop playground 30 years ago.
“We do what we can,” she said,. “Nice to meet you Margaret.” And then she turned her back, as if selecting candies whose brands were older than she was more interesting than this conversation.
Maggie glared at Dave. “You two have a good evening!” she said, in the most even tone she could muster. She stormed toward the theatre, willing away the tears in her eyes.
How ridiculous! She thought. What the goddamn hell am I crying about? Of course he has some slutty gorgeous girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? We aren’t together. He knows I have two lovers. One of them is right here in this building.
So she pulled herself together and walked into the theatre just as Cabaret’s opening strains of “Willkomen” began to play.
Eva walked out from the baggage area into the rainy, breezy air at Baltimore Washington International Airport. Just as she exited the sliding glass doors, she saw Joe’s Hummer pull up to the curb. She was thankful not to have to wait in the cold. He got out of the car, hugged her a bit stiffly, saying, “I’m so sorry,” then put her suitcase in the back.
She got into the car.
“I don’t know how to do funeral arrangements,” she said blankly. “And I’ve never hated being an only child as much as I do right now. There’s no one to call to help me.”
“I’ll help you get through this, Eva,” said Joe matter-of-factly. His medical precision and attention to detail were going to be a huge benefit to her over the next few miserable days. “I called the hospital where your mother was taken and contacted the funeral home. You just have a lot of decisions to make about a service, cemetery, obituaries, those kinds of things.”
“I don’t know how I can make any of those decisions,” said Eva. “I still can’t believe Mom is gone. It still feels like the next time I drive to the island, she’ll come out the door of the cottage to greet me.”
“You’re still in denial,” said Joe. “It’s the first step in the grieving process, and you’re going to be experiencing many different emotions in the coming weeks.”
She realized he had given this speech to countless patients’ families over the years, only the horror of discussing death with the parents of a dying young child was unimaginable to her. She still didn’t appreciate his clinical tone in such an emotional set of circumstances, but she had grown to expect it. She didn’t want to talk about her mother anymore.
“Do you love her?” Eva said, and she turned to face her husband.
“What?” said Joe. “What the hell are you talking about, Eva?”
“I know you’re seeing someone,” she said.
“You know what, Eva, there is a time and a place for everything,” said Joe, “and if you want to sit down and have a discussion our marriage and our future, we can do that, but I do not think that right now is a good time for that conversation. You have enough to deal with.”
“So you do love her,” said Eva, absently. She looked out the window and began to cry. She was so sick of crying, and as a normally strong woman she absolutely hated crying in front of people, yet crying seemed like all she ever did lately.
“I didn’t say that,” said Joe. “I simply said I don’t think now is a good time to be discussing relationships given your state of crisis.”
“I think now is a perfect time,” said Eva. “If my life is going to fall apart, it may as well fall all the way apart. I know you’re seeing someone.”
“Are you going to pretend you aren’t seeing anyone?” said Joe. “I guess if you want to do this now, we can do it, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You and I haven’t had sex in so many months I can’t even remember the last time,” said Eva. “I am not sure where our marriage train ran off the tracks, but it hasn’t been viable for a long time.”
“I know,” said Joe. “I have thought about it for awhile and I know I am partly to blame. I’m sorry. My career took over my life for so many years.”
“You definitely chose career over family,” said Eva. “I practically raised those boys alone while trying to advance my own career, which is equally as important as yours. The au pair spent more time with your sons than you did.”
“Look, Eva, it’s hard enough for me to say I’m sorry for anything when you know those are words I am not used to,” said Joe. “I have done the best I could to be a provider for this family, even if it meant working ridiculous hours over the years to try to provide the fine home and lifestyle we all enjoy.”
“I was working very hard too, Joe,” said Eva, annoyed that he was giving a martyr speech when she had carried the weight of both a full time career and motherhood.
“I’m sorry,” said Joe. “I am trying my best to be open here. I don’t know if it helps for you to hear it, but I am. We just grew apart, we became different people, and I should’ve done something to fix that.”
And in that moment, where Joe used the words “I’m sorry” a second time, words she knew he never, ever said, she momentarily remembered why she had fallen in love with him those years ago. His vulnerability, so carefully tucked away behind his years of medical training and jaded years of losing patients, was one of the things that once drew her to him. So strong on the outside, so emotionally fragile in many ways on the inside. Like everyone, he struggled with his own past demons. Regardless of the hurt and anger and sorrow of the present, she felt a profound sadness for the loss of the past.
“You spend your entire days trying to fix people,” said Eva. “And I don’t blame you for letting our marriage fail. I let it fall apart, too. When I didn’t have my needs met by you, I found other ways to have them met. I should’ve thrown a flag years ago when I knew I was miserable. But when you’re raising kids and trying to manage a career, sometimes your marriage just takes a backseat. It’s sad.”
“It is sad,” said Joe.
“When all of this is over with my parents, I want a divorce,” said Eva. “Our marriage is too broken to fix, and neither one of us would even know how. But I don’t want it to be ugly and awful and I don’t care about money and things and if there is any way to have it somehow be peaceful, then that is what I want for us.”
“Ok,” said Joe. “I do not want to fight with you. We can talk more about all this when things settle down, but Eva I don’t want this to be ugly either. We have the boys to think about.”
“I just want to get home and hug my boys,” said Eva.
“You know they love you,” said Joe. “I probably never said it, but you have always been a good mother to them.”
Eva swallowed, looked out the window where the rain fell softly, and now that she was home, she finally let the tears flow freely for the loss of her mother.
Zarina swept the floor. The coffee couldn’t brew fast enough when it was dark outside on a cold fall morning. Maryland autumns were the strangest: one day it could be raining and miserable and 42 degrees, and the next day it could be sunny and 70. “Dress in layers,” her mom used to say. And to this day, she did. Short sleeved t-shirt, hooded zipper jacket, and a warmer, waterproof jacket on a hook somewhere nearby.
The smell of pumpkin cheesecake muffins baking filled the air of the shop. Zarina knew the SLS girls would eat the hell out of those, and so would Stanley. Her mom’s recipe was a pain in the ass to make but every bit worth it. And the crumb topping? To die for.
“Good morning, Zarina,” said Lisa as she walked into the shop, shuddering her shoulders against the chill. The fake fireplace heater was cheesy-looking, but it worked well enough to warm the couch area. Lisa scurried over to it right away, warming her hands by the “fire.”
“Hi, Lisa,” Zarina greeted her. “Good to see you. How’re things?”
“Oh. Oh my God, that is so awful. Poor Eva!” said Zarina.
“I know, I feel so badly for her,” Lisa answered. “Especially with Thanksgiving and Christmas around the corner.”
Zarina walked over to the shop door to open it for Maggie and Eva, giving Eva a huge hug and telling her how sorry she was.
“Welcome, ladies,” Zarina said. “Pumpkin cheesecake muffins coming up in a few minutes. Let me know what kind of coffees you’d all like today.”
“Thanks, Zarina,” said Eva.
“I’m just glad we’re all able to be together,” said Maggie, and the ladies took their usual places in the cozy brown leather couch area, settling in.
Zarina had a feeling October would mean pumpkin lattes, so she set about making their coffee orders while they began their gathering.
Lisa walked over to where Eva was sitting and hugged her.
“I’m so sorry,” she told Eva.
“The memorial service was really lovely, Eva,” said Maggie.
“Joe really helped me out with all of that,” said Eva. “And my mom’s neighbor Marv helped me with all the details of the burial and the reception at the house on the island.”
Eva paused for a moment. The mention of the burial flashing her back to the cemetery. As her mother’s body was lowered into the ground next to her father’s, all Eva could think about was why would she want to buried next to that drunk asshole who did nothing but make her entire life miserable? She shook off the memory along with the chill from outside.
“It had to be so hard to get through all of that,” said Lisa. “When my dad died, my mom was a mess. Even though he had cancer and we knew that it was coming, it didn’t make it any easier when it happened. My brother and sister and I were devastated.”
“I don’t think you can ever be ready for something like death,” said Eva. “I’m glad Mom didn’t have to suffer in any way, because she had talked about being afraid of being in pain. If she had to choose a way to go, it would have been something like this, where at least she didn’t have to suffer and I didn’t have to see her in pain. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
The Scarlet Letter Society Page 12