Time's Harlot: The Perils of Attraction, Seduction, and Desire

by Brenda Kuchinsky

  She had checked on Barbados weather before booking the flight. Barbados happened to be one of the least hit Caribbean islands and nothing was brewing. Generally, hurricanes arced to the Northwest. The notion of enduring a hurricane on a Caribbean island was appalling. Although, if she thought about it, she was on an island on Miami Beach. Somehow everything seemed sturdier, even if it was an illusion. After all, Ma and Ta were right on the ocean, facing the Atlantic head on.

  Sophia trudged up the dusty stairs, instinctively holding her breath against the olfactory tidal wave of cabbage and camphor, and thrust the creaky door open, expelling a burst of air. The unexpected sight of Ada, Max, and Mathilde, turned out in three matching kimonos, red, blue, and green, like a pandemonium of parrots, chattering away at the kitchen table, burdened with food, stunned her. Since when was Mathilde welcome at Ada’s table? Since when did Max mix and match the two women?

  A renewed Ada, momentarily abandoning grief, stood up to enfold Sophia in her arms. Quickly returning to anguish, she flooded Sophia with tears, before abruptly changing course and smiling bravely as she separated from Sophia’s sodden shoulder. “You finally came to me Zophitchka. See what Ta bought us? Three kimonos with Menorahs on the back. He had them specially made at that fancy Jewish store on Lincoln Road. They fit like gloves. Even skin and bones Mathilde’s.” She managed to shoot Mathilde a disparaging look before resuming a sunny smile, straining her seamless plump cheeks.

  Mathilde, bristling at the dig, rushed over to Sophia while motioning to Max to get an extra chair for their guest. “Sit down. Setz dich zu mir,” she chirped. She was appropriating Sophia with that sickly sweet command to sit by me. “Some people need a tent for a kimono,” she shot at Ada, who chose to ignore her.

  Max, his blue kimono swishing, rushed to fetch a hard chair from the living room. Sophia obediently sat next to Mathilde, wondering how soon she could escape from this hell hole.

  “Terrible about Rudy, nein? How will your Mamman live without her friend?” Mathilde leaned into Sophia, her lids drooping under mounds of smudged purple eye shadow and her emerald green kimono alarmingly gaping open to reveal two walnuts posing as breasts.

  “I’m here, Mathilde. I can hear you,” Ada shouted across the table.

  “Tragique,” Mathilde intoned, ignoring Ada. “Your Mamman’s best friend wiped out, comme ca,” she continued, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “Shot like a dog.”

  Sophia’s head was beginning to throb. This war between Ada and Mathilde was just warming up. How long would Ta be able to juggle these two? Maybe the tension turned him on. He sat back and watched the show. Sophia studied him surreptitiously. The pasha in his royal blue kimono. He was busy swiveling his head back and forth as if he were watching an engrossing tennis match. Yes, the tension definitely was his cup of Swee-Touch-Nee.

  “Ess, Zophitchka.” Ada was towering over her, shaking her arm. “Vau bist du gegangen, where did you go? I was so afraid you were having a fit, a seizure. Your eyes were empty,” Ada said. She had a vise-like grip on her arm.

  “What?” Sophia was so engrossed in studying Ta and speculating about his mastery of these two women, it took Ada’s tight hold on her arm to break the spell. She shook her arm free from Ada’s grip, noticing the red marks left behind.

  “Zophitchka, a bite to eat? Some of my stuffed mushrooms?” Mathilde, not to be outdone, chimed in, her shrill squeak grating to Sophia’s ears.

  “No. I’m fine. I came over to make sure you’re all right, Ma,” Sophia said, rubbing her arm.

  “Nu? How can I be all right? How will I ever be the same? What will happen to me?” Ada began sobbing again. And on Yom Kippur. After schul, I was all dressed up in my finest. The red suit. A color like cherries. Waiting and waiting to break the fast with him,” Ada said struggling through sobs.

  Ta ran over to her and led her to her seat. “Time for some Slivovitz,” he said. He went over to the cabinets and returned with the familiar round bottle, plums dancing merrily on its label, and the four shot glasses.

  “Let’s have a toast to life. L’chaim,” Sophia said, inspired to change the mood before announcing her vacation plans.

  After the obligatory toast, Mathilde, known for her nonsensical non-sequiturs, shrieked, “Maybe he was atoning for his sins.”

  Ada, enraged, focused on Mathilde, lightning shooting from her blazing eyes, “Du bist meshuggah. Max do something.”

  Mathilde continued to babble, “Well Rudy wasn’t Jewish, but he could atone for his sins. Sophia why don’t you go to temple with us on the high holidays? Temple Emanu-El is so gorgeous. Everyone is there.”

  “Schweig,” Max kept repeating this one word despite its inefficacy.

  “Why don’t I go? I’ll tell you why because it’s all a bubbe meise, a tall tale and women are considered second class citizens.”

  “It’s tradition,” all three chorused, animosities forgotten while all the outrage was channeled towards the heretic in the room.

  “Tradition my ass. To me it’s crap and mumbo jumbo.” I know the place is beautiful, but religion is dead to me.” She thought of the stunning Moorish architecture, modelled after a temple in Algeria, the rich green and blue tiled walls, the red carpet, the magnificent copper dome. All worthy as a museum, but not a house of worship.

  Ada resumed crying about Rudy. “What will I do without him?” she wailed.

  Ta rushed over to refill her glass. “Don’t get hysterical,” he said.

  A little late for that, Sophia thought.

  “Don’t worry, Ada. We’ll find you another faygeleh. A Yiddishe faygeleh this time. He can take you to the temple,” Mathilde said.

  Ta diverted an explosion by shouting, “Das ist genug. Enough. Zophia came over to help and we’re making it impossible. Ada, Mathilde say nothing for a minute.” Silence, a soothing relief, reigned. Then Ta turned to Sophia. “We’re planning to go to Kristall Nacht Remembrance Day at the Temple on November sixth. But before that, Ada and Mathilde are going to the Holocaust Memorial. Just the two of them. I want them to be good friends and that will be a good place to start. We’re going to Wolfie’s first for a bite to eat and then the girls are going to the memorial.”

  Ada and Mathilde squirmed in their seats.

  Sophia couldn’t help it. She wanted to keep quiet and maintain the peace, but this Holocaust Remembrance nonsense rubbed her the wrong way. “Why, oh, why do you go to all these Holocaust things? You like a celebration of the unspeakable horror, but you never talk about what happened to you? It drives me crazy.” She stamped her foot in exasperation.

  “Why? You said it. It’s unspeakable, but we must never forget,” Ta said.

  “You’re all contradictions. I give up,” Sophia said.

  The three stared at her, three pairs of eyes overcome by howling memories, rising to the surface, stirred up by the conversation, like the still silt at the bottom of a lake, agitated by sudden motion, swirling and muddying the water.

  Sophia knew this was a good time to change tack and head out in a different direction. “I’m going to Barbados for a week,” she announced.

  All eyes were on Sophia again, but everyone was at a loss for words. Then Ada started keening, the eerie wailing growing louder and louder, filling every space and crevice in the place with an abominable misery.

  Forty Four

  Two days later Sophia was on the morning American Airlines flight to Bridgetown, enjoying first class for the first time in her life. She would get there by early afternoon and her luxurious week of solitude would begin.

  She was contemplating spa treatments, walks on the beach, drinks on the terrace, and sleeping in, when her phone tinkled. Lili at last. They had been playing phone tag for days.

  “Hi, darling. Finally. I’m on a plane which will be heading for Barbados in a little while. Wish you could join me.”

  “Barbados? What’s going on? You never go anywhere. You’re always too busy. And Ada and Max. You’re abandoning them
?”

  “I had to have a week off. A lot of crazy has been going down. With Ada and Max too. They may be getting back together.”

  “You’re kidding. What about the possessive girlfriend and the slobbering gay friend?”

  “Mathilde. Yeah. Maybe they’ll have a polyamorous relationship. Ta will be a Mormon.” She guffawed, growing self-conscious when she noticed how odd it sounded in the hushed plane. Luckily, the seat next to hers was empty. She wasn’t going to mention Rudy’s fate.

  “You didn’t answer me. I want you to join me.”

  “Ma, you’re being ridiculous. I’m late for Parsons Paris. I should have been there last week for orientation. They assigned me my very own French student to help acclimatize me. Her name is actually Chanel. Isn’t that too, too French?”

  “Why are you late?” Sophia asked, sensing something may be amiss. Lili was secretive, carrying on the family tradition of silence.

  “Oh, nothing. Something came up and it delayed me.” She sounded rattled, stuttering out her sentences.

  “Lili, you’re not telling me something.” Sophia was suddenly on full alert.

  “It’s nothing. I told you. Stop pestering. Once you start, you can’t stop. Listen I have to go. I’m glad you’re getting a well-deserved break. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll tell you all about Paris once I’m settled in. And you tell me about Barbados. Although coming from Miami Beach, won’t you be jaded? Isn’t it similar? And, by the way, can you afford it?”

  “Lili, it’s completely different. I wish you were coming with me to experience it.”

  “Some other time, Ma. I appreciate the offer. Is it expensive?”

  “Don’t worry. I can afford it.” She chortled.

  “Why? What did you do, Ma? Rob a bank or flog your ass?”

  “Flogged my ass, of course.”

  “You’re funny. I’ve got to get going.”

  “Okay my love. Kisses.”

  She was unsettled by the call. A morning brandy with her coffee was just the ticket. She didn’t want to think about anything.

  As soon as she finished the laced coffee, she fell asleep in her cozy first class seat, the soft leather arms embracing her. Dancing, four-armed Shiva, his skin tinged pale green, his girlish, red-lipped physiognomy welcoming, and his snake companion wrapped snugly around his neck, the numerous serpentine coils looking like an exotic necklace with his magnificent Cobra-hooded head protruding like a second head, came to her, holding out two of his hands. Wordlessly, he invited her to dance, one of his four arms beckoning her to dance the dance of Shiva, the creator and the destroyer.

  Together, they danced away her old worlds and created new ones. They undulated sinuously. Shiva’s other two arms moved lazily and rhythmically, vanquishing the old, which no longer served her, and generating the new, full of hope and promise.

  The Momma’s Boys vanished. Maria was gone, swept away by a magical waving arm. Kurt went up in a puff of smoke. Mathilde disappeared and Ma and Ta were together again, but blissfully this time around. Jonathan Constable appeared, mesmerizing azure eyes, shining shaggy hair, and an authentic untouched smile lighting up the atmosphere. A bright Lili emerged, loose-limbed and dark-eyed, her ebony hair flying as she danced towards Sophia. When she moved towards Jonathan and Lili, like twinkling stars almost in her grasp, Vasuki the snake struck, uncoiling from Shiva’s neck, slithering up Sophia’s body to her pale neck, and lashing out with lightning speed.

  She woke screaming, her hand rubbing the side of her neck. The flight attendant was at her side in a flash. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. A silly dream. How about a glass of champagne to chase the blues away?”

  “Of course.” The attendant glanced at her quizzically.

  Sophia felt like shouting, “what the fuck are you looking at?” She kept the peace.

  Yesterday’s break up with Kurt came flooding back. Incensed, hurt, and surprised, Kurt shot up from the nubby living room chaise lounge, her favorite reading chair, where he had been lolling, (much to her chagrin because she coveted that chair for herself) not a care in the world, when she told him it was best if they parted ways. With a sudden adroit flip of his wrist, as if well-schooled in this action, he tossed his drink in her face.

  “How dare you,” Sophia shouted, spluttering, shocked at his loss of control.

  “How dare you,” he echoed. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.” To her horror he started to sob tears of frustration. “Nobody does this to me.”

  Sophia headed for the kitchen to get a paper towel to dry her face. Her eyes were burning. Now that she was done with him, she couldn’t wait for him to leave.

  She strode back into the living room where he was still standing, sobbing. Even in her impatient anger, she instinctively wanted to appease and conciliate. “It’s not you, it’s me. You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” she managed to say with a straight face. “But all good things come to an end, Kurt”. She pretended to be crestfallen.

  “You’re being an ass, Sophia. You’ll regret this for the rest of your life. You’ll see. You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” he said, shaking an admonitory finger in her face. Then he swiveled around and marched to the front door. Head held high, nose running, he wrenched the door open and disappeared from her life.

  “Check that one off my list,” she said pitilessly. Relief washed over her. She felt ten pounds lighter.

  She had decided that saying goodbye to Kurt, appeasing Ma and Ta in person before her trip, and telling Maria that she was going off alone for a fun filled week without her was all she could muster besides cancelling and rescheduling patients and Momma’s Boys. She would say farewell to the boys when she returned, rejuvenated and ready to take on the world.

  She needed Maria to take care of Titi. Extricating herself from Maria would be a massive chore. The scene when she told her she was off to Barbados for a week was returning to haunt her.

  Maria wheedled, pled, threatened, and exploded with jealousy in a roller coaster ride of extreme emotions, before she resigned herself to the inevitable. A bitter Maria agreed to take Titi for the week.

  “You’re really going alone? No fuck buddy?” Maria couldn’t resist asking, eying her doubtfully.

  “Maria,” Sophia flung her hands in the air in exasperation. “I told you I want to be alone. Like Greta Garbo. I need to recoup my lost self. I’ve been on a treadmill, serving others’ needs.”

  “I still think I’d be a great vacation partner. Think of all the hot sex. I’d wait on you hand and foot. Even wipe your ass for you.” She looked like a jumbo puppy dog drooling for affection at any cost.

  “Very funny Maria. We’ll have a wonderful dinner when I return. My treat. Or you can do it up big here like you love to do. I’ll supply the food and drink. Whatever you want. And I love this place. We’ll have a great reunion with our twin cats and I’ll take Remy off your hands. Come on be a big girl. It’s only a week,” she said, striding over to Maria and rubbing her finger under her eye. Even though, Maria wasn’t shedding a tear, Sophia felt as if she were crying.

  “We’ll do it up big here. I do love that,” Maria said, sighing and squaring her shoulders, tossing off the grief at Sophia’s abandonment. “Let’s definitely do it here and you’ll tell me all about your week.”

  “Yes, a cozy dinner for the two females and their two felines.” Sophia realized it would be best to break it to her at home and then go off into that gentle good night with Titi and Remy while Maria would undoubtedly rage against the dying of the light. She would have to call a cab to get away. The Gloria obsession gnawed at her, but she wasn’t Gloria. Maria knew that. She had finished Gloria off herself.

  Sophia sipped the champagne, allowing Kurt and Maria to recede into the shadows. After she finished the champagne, she slept again until they landed.

  Forty Five

  The silver haired livery driver, complete with a kindly smile and an adorable, distinctive Baj
an accent, whisked her to Sandy Lane in the obligatory Rolls. That’s what you get for two thousand dollars a night. A scene right out of Driving Miss Daisy. Will I be on a stage set the whole time? She vanquished these sardonic reflections and encouraged herself to be upbeat.

  Sandy Lane was picture perfect. They arrived at a low lying pristine site with living coral walls, sculpted dolphins and sea urchins, some spouting water, and, as a backdrop, a beach so flawless with white sugar sand, cloudless cerulean skies and azure seas, dressed up with immaculate pink and white beach umbrellas and chairs, that it looked unreal. Even the surf dared only to whisper as it tiptoed in to the shore.

  Slyly servile, impeccably turned out personnel catered to her sign in and a gentle, pretty young woman swished ahead of her, ushering her into her large, beach view suite, elegant, down to the monogrammed sheets and towels. When she saw the curlicued SL on the periwinkle sheets and pillow cases and then on the mauve towels in the astoundingly well-appointed bathroom, she thought, Some Living, rather than, Sandy Lane.

  Everything was faultless and she marveled at the view. But she was already starting to feel claustrophobic, smothered by the white washed perfection, the ne plus ultra, and all that money can buy. She was cocooned in luxury, everything designed for her pleasure.

  Get a grip, Sophia, she admonished herself. You’ve never used your money on you before. It was just the house and Lili’s education. Don’t be so critical. You’re just not used to it. You’ll adjust nicely.

  For openers, she ordered a bottle of La Grande Dame, changed into the plush, monogrammed robe provided for her, and pulled out the box of Balkan Sobranies she’d snagged from Jonathan. She might switch. She loved the look, feel, and taste of these cigarettes. The champagne came quickly, rolled in by another impeccable, discreet server on a silver tray table with a crystal flute and a bowl of strawberries and cream, the cream probably flown in from England.