“This here’s Vitus,” I said. “He’s a friend of mine.”
We been getting closer, me and Vitus. At night when he comes to watch TV, we might cuddle a little. And we been talking, kind of jokeylike, about busting out of here. Just for fun, we say what if I got my house back, we might live out our days there.
“Hello there,” Glenda said. “I’m Mrs. Sledge’s daughter.”
Vitus can be charming when he wants to, but he’s not a man to kowtow. Plus it was time for The Price Is Right, one of his favorite shows. He gave Glenda a halfhearted wave without taking his eyes off the screen, and that didn’t sit well with her. She screwed her mouth up and squinted at him while he chuckled at his program like there was nobody else in the room.
“Let’s get going,” I said. “I’ll just change my clothes and we can get a move on.”
I hustled into the bathroom and stripped down fast as I could. Having the two of them sitting out there in the room together made me nervous as a cat. I put on the pumpkin-colored suit and ran a brush through my hair. No time for extras. I wanted out of there.
A commercial was playing when I came back to the room, and Glenda was giving Vitus the third degree, asking him how long he’d been at The Palisades and where he came from, if he had a wife, and who knows what else. Vitus didn’t seem to mind a bit. He’d gone to my cabinet and gotten a bag of chips, which he munched like he was at a ball game.
“Well, well. What have we here?” he said when he saw my new outfit. He gave me his devilish look and twirled his finger like he wanted me to spin around. I obliged. When I came back to face them, Glenda’s jaw was in her lap, poor thing. Vitus clapped. Then his program came on and he went back to watching.
“You ready?” I asked Glenda. “All I need is my purse.”
She looked over at Vitus, who was chuckling again as he watched the TV and ate the chips. She looked at me. Then at Vitus. Me, Vitus.
“Better get going,” I said. “Before it gets too crowded. I don’t want to wait for a table.”
“Don’t we need to lock up here?” she asked, shifting her eyes toward Vitus. “With all the things that’s turning up missing and everything?” She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward him, to make sure I knew what she meant.
“Where are you going?” Vitus said.
“Glenda’s taking me out to lunch. Marie Callender’s. One of my favorite places.”
“Shall I come along?” he asked.
It had crossed my mind to invite him, but right then I wasn’t in a mood to juggle the both of them. Glenda frowned her heart out.
“You better go get ready for lunch,” I told him, winking so he’d know that I’d explain things later. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
He walked us out to the lobby. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said to Glenda as he held the door for us.
IT’S BEEN A long time since I was outside The Palisades. Crossing the parking lot was like heading out on a big vacation. It seemed like I could see for miles in all directions—out, up, to the left and right. The roads and stores and sky spreading every which way, the wind flapping, cars coming and going.
“Oh, my goodness! Lookee here!” I said when Glenda got her keys out and unlocked the door to a fancy new car. It’s silver, with leather seats the color of butterscotch. She was in a pout, but I decided to ignore it. “When did you get this?” I asked. “I feel like the queen of Sheba getting into her carriage.”
She shut my door without a word and stalked around to her side of the car. I watched her through the windshield. Her lips were pressed so tight together they could have bent nails, and her shoulders were way up around her ears. She has always been so touchy. Tough titty, I said under my breath. I decided to enjoy myself, no matter how big a snit she was in.
Bells rang, air started blowing, and that damn tinkly music she likes came on when she turned the ignition. “Goodness gracious!” I said, hoping to joke her into a better mood, but she sighed like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She was grim as a hangman as she backed out of that space and headed out of the parking lot.
“Bernie buy you this car?” I asked. It’s a wonder I can even remember the names of all her husbands.
Her mouth twitched. I decided to take that for a yes. I ran my hand over the armrest, nestled down deeper in the leather seat, then flicked the button for the window to go up and down a few times. It opened and closed smooth as butter. The dashboard had as many dials and buttons as an airplane.
“Well, it’s real nice.” You can’t say I wasn’t trying. “Reminds me of that Lincoln your aunt Ruby had. You remember that?”
Not a word. Not so much as a twitch.
“You must feel pretty important riding around in this. What kind is it?”
“Acura,” she said, barely moving her lips.
I finally took the hint and busied myself looking out the window. There was plenty to see: car washes, nail salons, restaurants from every country you can imagine, and so many cars I felt like I was inside a hive of metal bees. And with all I was seeing, what I remembered was the way this place was when we first moved to California. There where a man stood on the corner waving a sign that said HUGE MATTRESS SALE used to be a drive-in called Oscar’s where the carhops came out and took your order on roller skates. Across from that, where a Mexican girl waited to cross the street with one kid in a stroller and another holding her hand, was where a dirt road used to cross the old trolley tracks. In the spring you could get off there and walk down the dirt road through meadows of purple owl’s clover and those bright yellow flowers we called tidytips. Now there was a Shell station next to a Big and Tall Shop for men.
Glenda braked at a red light. She still hadn’t given me the time of day. She’s the kind of driver that leans way forward over the steering wheel, nose against the windshield. Since she was set on keeping quiet, I started jabbering about the rusted old Studebaker that we drove out from Michigan, how the last leg we drove all night because we didn’t have money for a motel, and besides, we were excited because we were almost there. I told her how her and Dean sang “California, Here I Come” for two days. We’d crossed the border into California right around when night was falling, came down through the pass and across the Mojave. We smelled the orange groves in the Valley. By the time we got to San Diego it was the wee hours of the morning and we were dead tired, but we drove straight to the beach. We fell asleep in our seats, and when the sun came up the next morning, I felt like I’d reached the promised land.
“Are you listening to me at all?” I interrupted myself to ask Glenda.
“I’ve heard this before.”
“Not like this you haven’t. It don’t hurt you to listen. You got nothing better to do when you’re driving, anyway.”
“Well, go ahead then. Looks like I don’t have a choice.”
“The ocean spread out in front of us and the waves rolled in one after the other. I told myself I was never leaving this place. We took off our shoes and ran across the sand. I’ll never forget how that water felt lapping at my legs. It pulled me like it wanted me to come farther, farther and farther until I was out to my waist right there in those stale clothes I’d been wearing for days. After all that driving and being awake and eating peanut butter sandwiches and drinking warm water out of a jug, I couldn’t believe I was there, on the edge of the world.”
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Glenda said.
I was dreamy, seeing everything like it was yesterday. “Who?” I asked.
She turned into the shopping mall where the Marie Callender’s was. “The man you told me about. The one you say you love.”
The parking lot had those humps that throw your innards up against your front teeth. “Mmm,” I said, grunting as we took the first one.
“I don’t like the looks of him, Mommy.”
“Now why would you say that? Why would you pass judgment on a person
you don’t know the first thing about?”
She wasn’t paying attention to driving. We came within inches of a woman pushing a shopping basket, then a car nearly backed into us. “I just get the feeling that you might not be able to trust him,” she said in her peppy way. “It’s just a vibe I get.”
That was Glenda, always using words like vibe.
“You just have a hard time imagining me with anyone but your father.”
We hit another one of those damn bumps and my teeth smacked together. I nearly bit off my own tongue.
“Maybe, but I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to see you rush into anything.”
She was getting me riled up by acting so patient and understanding. “Drop me off in front of the restaurant,” I told her. “It’s too far for me to walk. And can’t we just go have lunch? If I knew I was going to get a lecture, I would’ve eaten the slop in the rest home.”
“It’s not a rest home.”
“What is it, then?”
“Assisted living.”
I snorted. “Well, I don’t need that kind of assistance! I can help myself! And if I feel like helping myself to a man like Vitus, I don’t see why it’s anyone else’s business!”
Glenda poked along like a turtle, creeping up one row and down the next. “Here we are fighting again. No matter how we start out, we always end the same way.”
“Turn that damn music off. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to fight, either. I just want a nice lunch. Especially after you bought me this nice outfit and everything.”
Finally, there was Marie Callender’s with its ruffled curtains and hanging ferns and sweet smells floating out the door. I practically jumped out of the car while it was moving.
“Wait right there by the door,” Glenda said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She must have given herself a talking-to while she was parking, because when she walked out of that ocean of cars she’d screwed a smile on her face. Her scarf was tied fancy on her shoulders and she’d put on fresh lipstick.
The hostess led us to a booth over on the side, with a window that looked out on the parking lot. They had those wooden venetian blinds and a bouquet of straw flowers on the table. I have a hard time getting into those booths and scooting around to the middle, but I managed.
No sooner had I opened my menu than Glenda started up again. “It’s just that I’m concerned you’re having some kind of reaction,” she said. “I think that moving out of your house stirred up a lot of things. Emotions, you know. Unresolved issues.”
I didn’t want to hear words like issues. All I wanted was to read that damn menu. It has pictures that make your mouth water like a fire hose: chicken pies, pot roast, sandwiches piled high as skyscrapers, and, of course, those pies.
“I think you’re still mourning Daddy,” she blathered on. She had on about twenty bracelets that clanged against the Formica table. “I don’t think you’ve gotten over that yet. Now, with this different environment, and these other men around, you’re acting out a lot of your grief.”
I dug my fingers into the vinyl seat to keep from smacking her. I was just ready to let go and give her a good piece of my mind when the waitress showed up.
“Oh, goodness,” Glenda said, snatching up her menu. She didn’t have to look long since she always orders the same thing, Caesar salad, which is nothing but a bunch of watery lettuce with a few cubes of stale bread thrown on top. Even though she’s skinny as a rail, she’s always on a diet. She ordered dressing on the side. No pie.
All my life, all I ever did when I went into a restaurant was look down the column with the prices and order the cheapest thing on the menu. Just being in a restaurant was treat enough. It’s a hard habit to break, even when you’re not paying. But I told myself it was really that rich husband of Glenda’s who was paying, and he had money to burn. He was more my age than hers, and anybody with a wife half his age should splurge once in a while. It wouldn’t hurt him a bit, so I ordered the ham stack I’d been dreaming of and a slice of banana cream pie.
The waitress had no sooner turned tail and headed for the kitchen than Glenda started in about Vitus again.
“I think I made a mistake,” I interrupted her.
Would you believe that she broke out in a big smile?
“With the pie,” I said real fast, before she got too far along in her celebrating. “I should have got the lemon meringue. That’s what I really have a hankering for. Or the pecan. Lord, I loved having that at Thanksgiving. They got that chocolate satin pie and all them different cheesecakes. I should have taken my time. I should have been more careful.”
Glenda tapped her fingers on the table. She wanted to strangle me just as much as I wanted to strangle her. “You like banana cream,” she said after staring daggers at me a minute. “It’s your favorite.”
“That waitress came before I was ready and I just said the first thing that came to my mind!”
“Do you want me to call her over here so you can change your order?”
“I love lemon meringue. Remember that lemon tree we had when we first moved out here? Over by the gas meter, growing up the side of the house? It had the biggest, juiciest lemons in the world. Sweet as sugar.”
Glenda waved her arm at the waitress and all of a sudden I saw the layers of that banana cream pie, so fluffy and rich, ready to melt in your mouth. “Never mind!” I spoke up. “It’s too late now. I’ll just live with it.”
“I am trying to have a serious talk with you,” Glenda said. “All those years you and Daddy spent together, then suddenly you’re alone. It jarred something loose inside your head. Now you’re trying to get that feeling back. But, like you just said, you’re making a mistake.”
“I was talking about the pie!” I cried so loud the old lady in the next booth spun around. “Listen here,” I went on, lowering my voice. “I know you and your daddy were thick as thieves. You were his princess. The two of you worshipped each other and you got away with a million things he never tolerated in the boys. But you’ve got to understand—”
“He worshipped you,” she interrupted. “He loved you like life itself. You and him were like the same person.”
“That’s not the least bit true, Glenda. We were different as night and day. More like opposites.”
“Opposites attract. They complement each other.”
Lunch came. My sandwich was steaming. The smell would drive you wild.
“You don’t know nothing about any of that,” I said while the waitress refilled our water glasses. “You don’t know what went on behind closed doors.”
“I was behind those doors, too. I was right there with you.”
“Anything else I can get you?” the waitress said. She must be used to that kind of talk, because she smiled real big, not turning a hair.
“Fine, thank you,” Glenda said.
Much as I wanted to tear into that sandwich, I blurted out, “I want my house back. Me and Vitus want to live together.”
She gaped at me. I’d gone and done it again, jumped the gun and shot off my big mouth. To keep myself from digging the grave deeper, I sunk my teeth into my sandwich. Lord, it was good. I could shut out the whole world chewing on that sweet, salty ham.
The whole time Glenda watched me like I was a monkey in a zoo. “You’re not eating,” I said after a few bites. “Good thing you got a salad. Otherwise your lunch would get cold.”
She answered in a raspy voice, “He loved you. He loved you so much. I wish I could find a husband who loved me half as much. How can you do this, after he loved you like that?”
Would I ever get to enjoy my sandwich? Glenda took up her fork and worried a few leaves of lettuce. She’s always been a picky eater.
“I don’t want to explain to you what it’s like between me and Vitus, just like I don’t want to explain what went on between me and your dad,” I told her. “Now, it’s real nice of you
to buy me these clothes and take me here for lunch, but the rest is really none of your business.” I held out my sandwich. “Do you want to try a bite of this? It’s real good.”
“No, thank you.” She finally took a bite of her salad. “I’m just stunned. This is so out of the blue, you wanting to move in with this man, a person you hardly know.” She shook her head and stared down at her plate like some accident had happened there—a car wreck or an earthquake. “Into the house you and daddy lived in,” she added with a tremor in her voice.
“It’s my house! I should have never left in the first place, but I’ll let that pass. I’m ready to go back now.”
Glenda was suddenly hungry. She got busy with her salad, eating leaf after leaf without looking up.
“I’m in better shape now. And it’ll be easier living there with Vitus than by myself. I want Lulu back, too. I pine for that dog day and night.”
Since she just went on eating like she hadn’t heard a word, I finished my sandwich. I was sorry to eat the last bite, because God knew when I’d get another one. I ate the potato salad, too, and the slice of dill pickle.
Glenda ground her croutons between her molars. When she was done, she wiped her mouth and asked in a cold voice, “Are you planning on getting married?”
Even though I was scared to hear what would come out of my mouth next, I couldn’t stop talking. “We’re not sure.”
The waitress brought my pie. It was beautiful, piled a foot high with a layer of yellow custard, a layer of bananas, and a big layer of whip cream. It smelled like heaven itself. Exactly what I’ve been dreaming about these last months while I laid in bed knowing that I’d have to get up and eat that same dog food the next morning.
I lifted up my fork, but didn’t have the heart to dig into it. “All this talk has taken my appetite away,” I said.
Glenda, the queen of sighs, heaved a big one. She rolled her eyes and slumped back in the booth like her spine had turned to Jell-O. I looked at my pie, and remembered what Marcos said about Renato. “I make love to him with my eyes.” Well, I tried it with my pie and, lo and behold, it worked.
Breaking Out of Bedlam Page 15