“I don’t mean to be a pessimist but just because you got in doesn’t mean you’re actually going to go,” Paulette starts in.
“I’m going,” I say.
“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Bunny says.
“I’m going,” I say.
“When you walk through the doors and sit your behind behind a desk, that’s when I’ll believe it.”
“Look, I can’t lie. I’m scared as hell.”
“Scared of what?” Bunny asks.
“That my life is about to change.”
“Hallelujah,” Paulette says, after she finally swallows what apparently is very doughy sourdough bread. “But all change is scary. Like it’s supposed to be.”
“Why should it have to be scary?” Bunny asks on my behalf.
“Because there’s safety in sameness and predictability. But when you’re not quite sure what’s around the corner it gives rise to a little trepidation. Some people freak out and get stuck right there. But like they say: ‘Opportunities just don’t keep knocking at your door.’ Especially when you get to be our age.”
“Whose age?” Bunny says, looking over the top of her tinted sunglasses even though there’s no sun in here.
“I’m doing this. I swear I am.”
“I believe you,” Paulette says, and leans back in her chair. “You’re long overdue, girlfriend. The biggest debt you owe is to Marilyn.”
I nod while trying to convince myself that I’m enjoying this Caesar salad when what I’d really like to do is snatch a few of those fries off the guy’s plate sitting at the next table and ask if I could just take the first bite out of that thick juicy hamburger he’s about to bring to his mouth. “Did Aretha braid your hair like that, Paulette?”
“You know Aretha can’t do this. So don’t be cute. This girl in Oakland did it and she’s cheap. I can get you her number.”
“Great. I could use a new look.”
“Took you long enough to realize it.”
“Bunny, you should chill with the negative comments.”
“I’m just trying to be a motivating instigator. How’s Leon doing in Costa Rica by the way?” she asks.
“I’ll be honest. I want to know what the deal is, too,” Paulette says. “I mean I’m not trying to get all into your Kool-Aid—yes I am—but you gave us a sip and now we want to drink the whole glass. What’s the latest word?”
“He called to say he got there, but that’s it.”
“Get out,” she says.
“Aren’t you just a little paranoid about this whole thing? I mean, come on, Marilyn. Four wife-free weeks in the Caribbean with his buddy?”
“I’m not really worrying too much about Leon these days if you want the honest to God’s truth. It’s weird, but I don’t even miss him.”
“Then I’d file those papers and put them into his sunbaked hands as soon as he walks in the house. Sort of a welcome home present,” Bunny says.
“You can be one cold broad,” Paulette says, “which is one reason you’re by yourself. And it’s not that simple.”
“Sometimes you have to be cold to make your point because they certainly go out of their way to make theirs, don’t they? And if you happen to get your feelings hurt while they do it, sorry Charlie, tuna’s not for cats. That was a bad analogy. Forget I said that.”
“Consider it forgotten,” I say, “whatever it is you think you just said. Anyway, who’s on your plate these days, Bunny? We haven’t heard you spit out his credentials or possessions so you must be on empty.”
“Thank you very much for reminding her, Marilyn.”
“I’m in the early no-name stage. Don’t worry. You’ll know when it’s time to know.”
“What did you just say?” Paulette says.
“Nothing,” Bunny says, leaning on her elbows and staring at me. “But I have a different bone to pick with you, Marilyn Manson.”
“What now?”
“What’s the big idea coming to the club and signing up for membership when I wasn’t there?”
“I didn’t know it was your day off. And I don’t want to go to the same gym as Leon.”
“I could’ve gotten you a discount, but you’re not going to come anyway. You should just call the business office and get your money back.”
“Are you PMSing today or something?” Paulette asks.
“No. But Marilyn’s been talking a lot of shit about all the stuff she was going to do after her kids left for college and I haven’t seen her start—let alone finish—a doggone thing. So to think she’s actually going to go back to college and go to the gym, too, it’s just hard for me to believe.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” I say. “I’ve been looking over the schedule but was hoping you’d help me with a course of action. I’m serious. I need to do this.”
Bunny holds out her hand, palm up. “How long do you think you’ll last?”
“I’m making a lifestyle change, Bunny. I’m not going on some little stupid diet so I can lose twenty pounds in six weeks and kill myself at the gym to get into a string bikini. I want to make exercise be a regular part of my day-to-day life so it’s just as important as breakfast.”
“But it is as important as breakfast, girl. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you lazy Negro women for years.”
“Don’t look at me, Bunny. I walk three times a week around Lake Merritt and lift my grandbabies at least twice a week, and plus I still do my Jane Fonda tapes.”
“She’s serious, you know that, don’t you?” Bunny says to me.
“Jane still works.”
“Anyway Marilyn. I don’t mean to be so cynical, but here’s the deal. The first thing we need to do is get you a fitness evaluation.”
“I’m out of shape. I already know that.”
“We measure your entire body and determine your body fat.”
“I can show you where the fat is right now.”
“Seriously. We can tell you what your target heart rate zone is so when you do any cardiovascular work—like running, spinning, jogging, the treadmill, climber…”
“Okay, WE GET IT!” Paulette says. “Now get to the damn point would you, Bunny?”
“Anyway if you…”
For the next ten minutes, Paulette and I eat and watch Bunny exercise her lips.
“…and let me just give you something to think about until our consultation.”
Paulette’s eyes are going up in her head and I kick her under the table. But it’s not her leg, it’s Bunny’s.
“See I told you, you aren’t serious! I’m going to Neiman’s to find something pretty to sleep in.” She raises her hand for the check.
“Okay, I’m sorry. What should I be thinking about until we meet?”
“Set yourself a goal and write it down. Not your ideal weight. Say you’re a fourteen and you want to get back down to a ten. Is that a realistic goal, you might ask?”
“Yes, that is the question.”
“Go to hell, Marilyn. You have any important stuff coming up that you want to look good for?”
“Divorce court.”
“Aren’t you going anywhere this summer?”
“I hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead.”
“Well, since your husband’s taking four long ones, you should give yourself at least a week’s worth of vacation and so you won’t feel lonely, Paulette and I will be more than happy to go with you. Let’s say around the end of August after you finish your class.”
“We haven’t done that in a long time, have we?” Paulette says. “We’re overdue.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
“And by then you should be able to slide into a size ten swimsuit without rupturing those thighs.”
“A twelve will suffice.”
“But where can we go?” Paulette asks.
“Any place that’s cheap,” Bunny throws in.
“Somewhere outside of the U.S.,” I say.
“But not Mexico! I’ve had enough of
Mexico,” Paulette says.
“We’re getting off the subject,” Bunny says.
“Wait a minute, Bunny,” Paulette says. “I don’t think we should wait until August. That’s when I go to Vegas for the Magic Convention and you guys know I can’t miss that. If I had nothing but time, I’d kill to go to Greece for the Olympics.”
“Me, too,” I say. “I’ve got a Greek Isles calendar that’s so unbelievably pretty it doesn’t even look real. Hey, why don’t we go to a swank spa or something?”
“I wouldn’t mind going on that black cruise,” Bunny says.
“No way,” Paulette says. “I did it once and that was enough. Too many horny and ugly men trying to get laid and there’s no place to hide unless you jump off the damn ship. And do I look Puerto Rican? I don’t think so. They can’t have any more of my money.”
“Okay, we’ll figure out somewhere to go but for right now, let’s forget about it! Anyway, Marilyn, back to the subject?”
“No, we’re finished! I’ll give all of this some thought.”
“Are we ready?”
“One last thing and this is really important.”
“We’ve heard enough! Are we going shopping or not?”
“I forgot what I came over here to look for,” Paulette says.
“I just need a good pair of running shoes.”
“To do what in?” Bunny asks.
“Don’t let it worry you. Now whose turn is it to pay?”
“You really need to stop asking such silly questions when you already know the answer,” she says, and walks off. Paulette has the nerve to follow her.
Chapter 22
You always know when you’re in Berkeley, that’s all I have to say. What did you think of it?” Paulette says, waving to everybody in the room like she’s on a float in a parade.
“I liked it.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I didn’t like that oily flower smell in the room and I didn’t like that creepy swaying-in-the-wind music they played, and the sound of that water oozing through those little rocks got on my damn nerves. And I don’t like walking on nobody’s floor without something on my feet, and I certainly didn’t like Luna touching my ass. All in all: it’s just too slow. I’ll stick with Jane.”
“Did you know that Jane gave up aerobics for yoga?”
“She did not.”
“She did so. Anyway, to hell with you and Jane. I liked it and I’m going to do it again.”
“Knock yourself right on out. The next thing I know you’ll be burning incense and candles and eating tofu and drinking soy milk and wearing gauze and those flat sandals with no heel and no socks even when it’s cold as hell outside. Watch.”
“Shut up, Paulette. I can’t help it if you don’t know how to be still and quiet at the same time.”
“And I’m going to keep it like that. I could sure use a cappuccino. There’s gotta be a Starbucks on one of these corners and yes I’m a sucker so don’t start in. All this inhaling and exhaling mess doesn’t work half as fast as caffeine. Plus I’ve got too much on my mind to be squirming around on a hard-ass floor.”
“Is this about Mookie?”
“Girl, one of his ex-girlfriends, who’s got two kids she swears are his has been calling the house all hours of the night looking for him since he’s been out, even after I’ve told the girl ten times that he doesn’t live here. Cleopatra is a dope-fiend, just like all of his other women. But when she told me I need to stop lying to her, I finally cussed the bitch out.”
“You did say Cleopatra, didn’t you?”
“I did. And she looks just like Mike Tyson. Even built like him. Except she’s only five-two.”
I’m laughing, trying to picture her. “So you cussed her out, now forget about it.”
“But this child is crazy. She ran her car into this dude’s Lexus while he was in his house sleeping after she found out he’d been dealing with somebody else. This is when Mookie was still locked up of course.”
“Did she get hurt?”
“Not a scratch. I’m not exaggerating, Marilyn. Roscoe told me to give the phone to him the next time she calls.”
“I would do just that. Can’t you block her number?”
“She doesn’t have one. She calls from a pay phone.”
“Then I’d talk to Mookie. Make him set her straight.”
“It’s on my list of things to do today. What’s on yours?”
“It’s fitness day for me. I had that evaluation already.”
“From Bunny?”
“No. I can’t deal with Bunny under these circumstances. She agrees. Anyway, I almost had a stroke doing all the stuff they made me do to figure out my fitness level.”
“And what was it?”
“Low. Very very low.”
“What did they really say, Marilyn? Is there any hope for your old ass?”
“My body fat is like thirty percent. Which is high. They said eighteen would be ideal and I said yeah, but twenty-two makes a whole lot more sense.”
“What percentage do you think mine is?”
“I don’t know. They have this thing they squeeze all over you and then do some math and that’s how they figure it out.”
“What do you think mine might be? Look at me.”
“I can’t guess, Paulette.”
“Guess, bitch.”
“Okay. Twenty-two.”
“I knew I was in better shape than you. It’s Jane. I’m telling you.”
“Bunny’s is probably ten or twelve.”
“Speaking of bunnies. What are you doing for Easter?”
“I’m actually going to church with Mr. and Mrs. Goodenough. You will not believe this but Arthurine went and eloped with Prezelle in Reno! I love it! Leon’s probably going to have a stroke when he finds out! Anyway, I got them matching jogging suits as a wedding gift: chocolate brown and beige no less. And, Paulette, I meant to get that girl’s number that braided your hair.”
“I’ll leave it on your machine. But let me warn you right now. She’s a talker, as nice as can be, but strictly ghetto. And her duplex isn’t in the greatest neighborhood, but it’s safe. She’s fast, too.”
“Okay. So what are you doing?”
“Probably taking my grandkids to Sunday school because they can’t sit still long enough to stay in church and then we’ll take them on an Easter egg hunt.”
I can tell Trudy’s been waiting for me to walk through the door. “Here you go,” she says, and hands me Bunny’s necklace. It’s finished. The ends are done perfectly, hidden inside the same silver cones I was looking at in Bead & Button.
“Thanks, Trudy. Don’t tell me you did this?”
“I did indeed. I have branched out, sister.”
“But this is real jewelry.”
“Don’t I know it? You were right about glass, but there’s lots of folks out there who still love plastic! You should check out my Web site or log on eBay if you want to see some of my handiwork. If it keeps up, at the rate I’m going, I’ll be opening up Trudy’s Treasure Box a year or so from now.”
I give her a bear hug and tell her how proud I am of her. And I am. She suggests we sign up for some craft fairs and if we’re lucky, we can get booths side by side. I might take her up on it.
After work I go to the gym to meet with my new trainer. I ask the guy checking our membership cards if he would see to it that Bunny gets the box I give him. He tells me that he has to check it first. It’s the rule. Since 9/11. No worries, I tell him. He holds it up in front of the scanner. “Nice,” he says. He’ll put it in her office on her desk. It’s safe, he says.
My trainer’s name is Ming. She is six foot three. She is Malaysian. She is also a lesbian and an ex-Olympic volleyball player. She has on a yellow polo shirt with the club’s logo on it and black warm-ups. I can tell that her hair was short but it looks like she’s letting it grow out. Her smile is warm. I like her immediately when she extends her long arm out to shake my hand. “So,” she sings, “you a
re ready to get into the best shape possible, then?”
“I am.”
“I read over your application. I read your goals—your fitness evaluation. I know everything. You said you are hoping to make a lifestyle change, and this is true?”
“This is true.”
“Then let’s go sit and talk and I can tell you what my feelings are for achieving these goals and you can tell me if you want to try. That sound good?”
“It does.”
“Follow me,” she says, using her head.
This place is awesome. Stainless steel is everywhere: corrugated pipes snake their way throughout the ceiling; the rails that lead to the second level are smooth and sleek. Most of the equipment is silver and white. The walls: purple. Mustard yellow. Orange. The sound system pumps and thumps Top 40 hip-hop music while at least sixty people ride, pedal, walk, glide, and run on various cardiovascular machines as they listen with headphones to their own music or to one or all of the six TVs on six different channels that hang from the ceiling.
There are very few fat people in here. But I do see quite a few out-of-shape folks so I don’t feel so bad by the time Ming and I sit down. She basically tells me the same thing Bunny told me at lunch last week. She’s just more specific. She says that I need to concentrate on getting at least four or five days of cardio in a week if I want to burn fat and calories. That she’ll start me out easy—just thirty minutes—but the goal is to get up to an hour in my target heart-rate zone five or six days a week.
“Are you serious?” I say.
“Yes. It’s not hard. Wait to see how much energy you have. How good you feel. You won’t be mad at me.”
“But what kind of cardiovascular exercise are we talking about?”
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