by Hope Lyda
“How do I get out of this?”
“You don’t, young lady. You take advantage of her knowing something is up and you dive right into this. Or I’m walking. No, wait. I drove. If you don’t do this I will drive back to a place without gates and security guards.”
“And to think I brought you here for moral support.”
“Correction—you brought me here for my strength. And sharing my strength is precisely what I am doing. Now let’s go, missy.”
I stand behind my friend and force her to shuffle toward the soufflé and her future.
Something Old
I cannot believe I am losing two of my bridesmaids. I’m tempted to eat carbohydrates.”
“Don’t do it!” Caitlin protects her pretzel with extra mustard. “And I don’t know about New York yet. I’m visiting one more time before I make a decision.”
Sadie is chewing beef jerky, which is absurd since she is a filet mignon filly and even more comical as she is sitting on a child-sized chair at the city park—the only place we could all get to for an emergency meeting.
“Did Beau take it better than Sadie?” Angelica straddles a rocking mini-dolphin while sipping her lunch of iced tea. Since seeing the scary horizontal stripes of the bridesmaid dresses, Angelica has been living on wheat grass, wheat germ, and green tea.
I dig through my brown bag filled with grapes, yogurt, and tortilla chips. Nothing is appealing. “He was great. First we had to get through about fifteen minutes of apologizing for recent behavior.” I balance a plastic spork on my nose.
“I’m so sorry about your dad. I think it is great how you are willing to give up work and love to help your family,” Caitlin said, romanticizing my actions.
I hold up my hand in protest. “Wait. I’m not giving up any of those things. Am I? I can go home, be of help for a few months, and return to everything. Who knows, maybe I will be back before the wedding. It is strange, but I didn’t even have to think about it.”
“Well, I could not leave that to chance. Here.” Sadie hands me a piece of paper with a lot of digits.
“Lottery numbers?”
“No.” She looks around shyly as if having second thoughts. “These are the numbers for Carson’s mileage account. He insists that you fly home, Tucson home, once a month. Or more, if you want to.”
I stare at the paper. In my mind I visualize a United States map and a cartoon plane leaving dashes in its wake as it moves from DC to Tucson and back again. “This is too generous, Sadie. Carson barely knows me.”
“He is doing it for me too. His life will be unbearable if my maid of honor is not available at my beck and call.”
“I’m a beck-and-call girl now? Uh-oh, maybe these aren’t my lucky numbers.” I tuck the piece of corporate envelope into my pocket. “Thanks, Sadie. Tell Carson how much I appreciate this. It will help ease the hurt of being away from you guys and the residents. I will miss them.”
“And Beau,” Angelica prods.
“Of course Beau. That is a given.” I hedge back to an appropriate answer. I will miss Beau. But I’ve been missing him for several months, and we are in the same town.
“How will they do without you at Golden Horizons? You put in tons of hours there these days.”
“Well, that isn’t all diligence. Beau is working a lot, so I stay late. But I’ve been training Sonya to take over some of my responsibilities and,” I nod toward Angelica, “our friend and her little sister, Rachel, are volunteering to cover the reading hour, music sessions, and the Scrabble tournament.”
A round of praises for Angelica. “You stuck it out with the Big Brother, Big Sister program?” Sadie asks, impressed.
“I quit quitting, don’t you know?”
“How long do we have you?” Caitlin asks me a bit reluctantly.
“Until the end of the week. Everything is set. Beau is even taking some time off from his busy schedule to hang out with me…”
“About time,” Angelica mumbles somewhat loudly.
I ignore her and continue. “And remember my former neighbor, Yvette? She and Zane are going to use my apartment while they wait to move into their new house.”
“No pouting during your last week. Everything will turn out fine, Mari. Your dad will be back to good health soon, and before we know it…”
“Get off! You’re too big!” A little and yet loud voice interrupts Sadie.
“And old!” Another annoying set of vocal cords adds.
Our impromptu gathering is invaded by the three-foot-and-under set. A young girl in a neon purple swimsuit with turquoise piping pulls on Angelica’s leg while a little boy pokes his index finger in Sadie’s ear. They are both armed with suckers.
“Well, you heard them, ladies. We’re fat and old. Guess we’ll go eat worms.”
“Gross.” The Mini Me bathing beauty confuses her universal signs and pinches her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
“Where’s your mother?” Angelica insists.
“Where’s your mother?” The girl bellows back in the same tone Angelica used.
“Let’s go. If the police get involved, we’ll lose. I guarantee it.” I motion for my friends to follow me before this turns to Blow Pops.
“Can you believe kids today?” Sadie brushes grass off her slacks and rubs sucker residue out of her ear with the hem of her blouse sleeve.
Angelica starts laughing uncontrollably. Between fits and starts she manages her joke. “Sadie, at least your ‘something old’ is taken care of for your wedding.”
Blind Faith
I have chosen Ray Charles followed by Al Green as the soundtrack for this last night in my apartment. My mood is melancholic and spiritual. I’m surprised how right this feels and how calm I am about this choice. A few years ago, even if my decision was a meaningful one or a no-brainer, I would torment myself about other possible paths.
Just to show myself how much I have changed, I limit myself to a medium-sized roller bag and my computer pack. No packing for every possible scenario once I get to DC. No second-guessing my packing list and tossing in six more clothing items at the last minute.
By the time Al Green is exposing his soul in the confines of my apartment, I am finished and, amazingly, have some room left in the case. I look around at my bookshelves, mementos, and jewelry case. Nothing seems important enough to take with me on this pilgrimage. Each piece has special meaning in my home but does not warrant a place on this particular journey.
My last bit of business is to write out instructions for the care and feeding of Elmo. Yvette and Zane are happy to take care of Elmo as part of their stay at my place. It’s funny. When I met Yvette, I would never have guessed that within a couple years she would be married, happily adjusted to married life, and looking to move into her very own house. My apartment has been home ever since I decided to make a life in Tucson, far away from my family. I view it as an extension of me. But for Zane and Yvette, it is a transitory location. A waiting room with its own bathroom and refrigerator. I examine the minimalist rooms warmed by lots of bookshelves and colorful pillows, rugs, and vases. But for the first time I see that it is livable, yes—but also leavable.
Do we only notice such things when the time is right?
I check the clock. Nearly nine o’clock, the time I asked Beau to come over so we could have a short time of prayer together. He will be taking me to the airport in the morning, but departure days are too crazy, intense, and public. This will be our true goodbye. The one I will need to set aside in memory while I am on the other side of the country.
It strikes me that this goodbye will be one of our few shared memories lately. Even with our best intentions, life’s busyness has kept us apart. Neglect doesn’t start out as a choice, a preference, a decision, but when it enters a relationship, it certainly dictates all of those.
I drape a scarf over my blouse for a bit more elegance and let my hair out of its captive state on top of my head. The slight natural curl and the kink from my barrette gi
ve me a wild look. I am wearing my long black jersey skirt, trying it out for comfort and wrinkle resistance to see if it should be my travel attire. The overall look is very “granola,” as Angelica would say.
A sharp knock at the door startles me.
I twirl a couple times to fluff out my skirt and tame a few curls by my face. The mirror by my door shows pink cheeks and warm skin from my evening of packing and tending to details.
“Entree,” I say while opening the door and bowing down low to the ground.
“Kiss our feet!” A female voice surprises me, and a I fall back onto my sandals. Through the veil of hair over my face I see Angelica, Sonya, Lysa, and Caitlin standing in my doorway.
“What are you guys doing?”
“You are coming with us, little harem girl.” Angelica brings me to my feet with one harsh yank on my wrist.
I start to protest. “But I’m seeing Beau, and I am packing.” I add the packing part hoping that I could get a tad bit of sympathy about the daunting task before me. I kind of want to be alone with my thoughts on this last night.
“Oh, you’ll see Beau—ouch!” Caitlin rubs her arm where Angelica punches her for giving away part of their unfolding secret.
Caitlin self-corrects. “I mean, you will see Beau tomorrow. Tonight, however, you won’t see anything for awhile. Get her, girls.”
Sonya and Angelica show their hands and the several bandanas they have been hiding from me. The strap of Angelica’s lavender bra and her silver-and-turquoise cross are the last things my eyes get to take in before I am nearly hog-tied and led to a car that is running.
“Keep the blindfold on!” Lysa hollers at me from the front seat of her old Buick while Angelica and Caitlin hold me down in the backseat. She is playing up the drama.
“I can tell where we are by your turns.”
“Nuh-uh,” copilot Sonya insists.
“You are on Tanque Verde…just about to pass the tofu yogurt stand.”
“You’re cheating!” Angelica elbows me in the side and I decide to play dumb the rest of the road trip. It is clear they are headed for Golden Horizons, and I am glad. All week I have been avoiding any acknowledgment among the residents or staff about my departure, yet, in some small way, I need to have a goodbye. While held captive, I have time to think about my life and my captors.
Last year may have been about learning to walk in faith, but this year is all about blind faith—for all of us. Angelica is just figuring out that blind faith is the ingredient she needs in order to trust her feelings for Peyton. Sadie is in love and is afraid of all the unknowns. For someone very much in control of her life, her marriage will be the most wonderful and difficult thing ever. And Caitlin is maybe the most courageous of us all. Her blind faith will likely lead to her dream of the New York fashion scene, and she wants to do it completely trusting in God and not in her parents’ connections.
“What are you laughing at? This is a serious abduction,” Angelica says sternly but with a hint of humor.
“I was just thinking how being blindfolded is the perfect symbolic gesture for what is going on in my life right now.”
“This is not the time for you to get philosophical. Don’t you ever turn off that part of your brain?” Lysa swerves around in a circle a few times to get me good and dizzy and confused. I know we are in Golden Horizons’ parking lot.
“So what is this time for?”
The car comes to an abrupt stop. “This is your time to dance, my friend.”
I am escorted in through the security doors, which open and close with electronic wheezes. For good measure, Caitlin and Angelica spin me around and catch me when I am about to topple over.
“Good thing for you I didn’t eat a big dinner.”
Once the forced-motion stops and my thoughts calm down, I prepare for a chance to enjoy this night with everyone who means the world to me. With three people guiding me, my first steps into what seems to be the courtyard are sure and quick. Maybe blind faith is not as scary as it seems—not when you have the support of good friends.
Water Under the Bridge
Let the music begin!” Beau calls from somewhere off to the right, and a band to the left kicks in with Van Morrison’s “Moondance.”
The blindfold is removed and I am able to take in the graceful courtyard adorned with Christmas lights and cardboard cut outs of Washington, DC, monuments, including a quite tall mini-Washington Monument at the end of the man-made pond.
Before I can look for Beau, the residents usher me over to the buffet table and each person stands before their creation. Rose asks me to try her capital cream cheese bars. Wanda presents her presidential panini with pepperoni. Chet beams with pride before his Georgetown peach pie. Bite by bite I consume enough calories to jog to the East Coast. Even my stretchy skirt is beginning to rise up in resistance.
My eyes are covered from behind by slender fingers. I am holding a slice of Linda’s Lincoln lemon cake, so I use my free hand to gain clues to my new captor. The huge ring on the left hand is a dead giveaway. “Yes, Sadie? I’ve already been kidnapped, but if you choose to steal away my seventh serving of dessert, you are most welcome to.”
The hands fall away and Sadie about-faces me and stares at my offering. “Are you kidding? And risk not getting into my designer gown? I’ve been sucking on carrot sticks all evening. You’ve been here less than an hour, but I’ve been here for several.”
“I knew you were behind these decorations. Fabulous. They are so romantic. If only I could locate Beau.”
“You will. But right now the girls want a few minutes of your time over by the south fountain.” She points to Lysa, Sonya, Caitlin, and Angelica, who are waving their DC-licious drinks and shouting “Cheers!”
“We had best get over there before they start a ruckus.”
Terra-cotta squares with intermittent topaz-colored tiles adorn benches that are built into a sloping hill that separates Golden Horizons from a golf club. The girls are lined up and kicking their left leg, right leg, left leg in unison.
“Too late. The Rockettes are well-past ruckus and have moved on to stage show,” I say as I sit between Caitlin and Angelica.
Sonya clears her throat. “Mari, honorable guest of honor, we wanted to give you a token of our esteem, a measure of our adoration, and a memento of memories before you leave.”
“Here, here,” says Lysa.
“And here it is.” Caitlin reaches beneath the bench and emerges with an extravagantly wrapped gift. A rainbow of ribbons cascade over a deep burgundy box.
“You shouldn’t have. This makes me feel like I am leaving for a long time.”
“Yes, we should have. Even if you are back in a week after discovering your dad is one hundred percent recovered, we would want you to have this gift,” Sadie comforts me with kind words.
“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say ‘You shouldn’t have—but I’m glad you did.’ ” I smile and accept the beautiful box. Someone takes a flash picture from a distance; the music playing is an old Ray Charles tune. And I thought I would spend the night alone with Ray C. and Elmo in my apartment. This is so much better.
I tear into the ribbons, the pretty wrapping, the delicate tissue paper, and beneath all of this adornment there are two velvet bags. One large, one small.
My hand goes to the small one.
“Other one first,” Angelica directs.
Sadie shakes her head and shrugs. “She’s probably right.”
I undo the drawstring of the large satchel and hope and pray this isn’t one of those bridesmaid purses. I reach in while trying to read everyone’s faces. There are no clues, only excitement.
A leather journal full of creamy pages with delicate borders feels the perfect weight in my hands. There are four sections to it, and each divider page has a double-sided photo window. The first has a photo of all of us at the fashion show last year just after Sadie got engaged. The second is a shot of Beau and me leaning against his Golden Horizons
office door the day before he took it down. We are pointing to his name on the door and looking at one another with overzealous surprise like we are in a forties romantic comedy.
“It’s amazing. I love it.”
“We figure the other photos will be of the memories you make while back with your family,” Sonya says, pointing to the empty cellophane squares.
I look down at the remaining gift. “I shouldn’t get anything else. This is too much.”
“True. But this one was my idea, so you must. Now open it before we are all old enough to get residency here.” Once again Angelica directs the scene.
“Okay. Okay.” I pour the contents of the small bag into my hand and the gentle sound of chimes seems to follow this action. I look down and discover a beautiful charm bracelet with colorful jeweled pieces: a cactus, a sun, a cross, and tiny but elegant initials for each of the women around me.
I’m speechless.
“Well, I would do anything to get you to quit wearing that darn single key on your wrist. I know it was from Tess and has sentimental value, but sentimental women can still have taste.”
And I was worried that Angelica would completely lose herself to her new leaf.
Caitlin rolls her eyes at our boisterous friend and returns us to a happy place. “If you will notice, there is a large vacant area on the links. This is so you can add Tess’ key,” she smiles broadly and sits up tall. “That was my idea.”
The band beckons residents and other guests to step up and step out onto the dance floor. I recognize the group as the one Beau used to be a part of. They formed during their college years to pay for tuition, and I suspect, to meet women. Due to the demand now they play oldies, but all of them are under the age of thirty-five. Romantic songs inspire the women to locate their dance partners and direct them to the special area marked off by potted yucca plants. Caitlin is with Jim the Cop, Sadie is with Carson, and Angelica is swinging with Chet.
My eyes scan the scene until they find Beau. It isn’t hard. He is the handsome guy, in a suit, standing on the far side of the bridge with a bouquet of flowers resembling the one he brought me on our first real date. I put my hand over my heart and walk toward him—and he toward me.