by Avery Aster
“Book it under my credit card. Lex is like a sister to me. I’ll pay for the medical fees.”
“One hour and I’ll have some answers for you.”
Embarrassed that she’d mauled her assistant, Taddy folded her arms and called her back. “And, Kiki…”
“Yes, Miss Brill?” Kiki stared down at her boss’s nails.
“I didn’t mean that crap about Eddie.” She pulled her damp hair from her face and noticed her hands trembling. “I’m upset is all.”
Her assistant looked into her eyes. She stepped forward maybe to extend a hug.
“Thank you for your assistance. I’ll let you get on with your day.” Taddy didn’t embrace or cuddle her staff so she shooed her away.
The second Kiki closed the door, Taddy dropped to the floor. I knew I should have taken Birdie to the hospital when this all started. Shit. Taddy was the one in the group who always got everything done. Sitting on the sidelines to watch how this played out wasn’t in her nature. She was pissed at herself for even trying.
If Lex lost her mother and father both within a two-year period, she’d break. Taddy would do whatever was needed for Birdie to get through this. Yes, Birdie breathed crazy, but in the very end, Lex’s mother wasn’t a bad person, at least not intentionally. A drug addict and a scatterbrain—all influenced by the celebrity Eddie Easton’s doing. She loved her man more than herself or her child. However, on those rare days when Birdie sobered up, she adored Lex and even Taddy at times—in her own way. More than Countess Irma Brillford ever did.
Chapter Four
Mud Mask Wishes with Auntie Muffie
December 23
Vancouver, Canada
No doubt Kiki had tracked down the best medical expert possible. She called New York University’s medical center, which patched her through to the US Department of Health and Human Services. The physician’s assistant referred her to an article published in the American Journal of Health-System Pharmacy, and she contacted the expert quoted at the Mayo Clinic. The clinic then suggested Dr. Rothman in Canada.
Confident they’d get some answers, Taddy secured an appointment the very next day for Birdie and Lex to meet Dr. Rothman at Concord Van General Hospital in Vancouver, Canada. They flew out that night for the West Coast.
A mess over Birdie’s diagnosis possibilities, Lex didn’t speak.
Taddy put herself up at a hotel down the street. She gave the troubled mother-daughter duo enough privacy to mourn, but remained available in case the worst proved yet to come. She’d spent bleaker Christmases by herself. This was nothing. Alone in a hotel room watching A Christmas Story on cable wasn’t hell. If the TV played Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, Taddy might feel otherwise.
Covering her body in a Baden Cosmetics moor mud mask, Taddy opened a detox drink she’d agreed to test market. The Baden Cosmetics beverage can sat on the table waiting for her feedback. Not yet FDA approved, the product’s formula was still being tweaked. She remained brave for client adventures. Taking a sip, Taddy worked on her New Year’s goals for Brill, Inc. Her strategy next year involved supersizing her firm for global domination.
She wished Vive had come with them. Vive’s ability to deflect one’s negative thoughts during times such as this with her irreverence would be refreshing right about now.
Fear and sadness came over Taddy. She struggled with a rare urge to call her parents. That video in Birdie’s room reminded her of what her parents had looked like. Taddy had tried so hard to forget. This sentiment—to belong to something, to someone—came each Christmas. It was hard not to hear their voices. Irma could capture anyone’s attention with her society gossip and snide jokes. And the interest her father had always shown in what she read and thought about the world around her still kept Taddy on her toes with current events. They were happy memories, few, but ones she elected to keep with her.
So much time had passed and still no word. She’d written countless letters telling them off, but had never mailed them. Wasn’t Taddy good enough to be their daughter? Mental health doctors prescribed her the latest happy pills on the market to help her through the pain. From Ativan to Zoloft, nothing worked. A few years ago, Taddy made peace with not having a relationship with her folks. No one would be okay with abandonment. It didn’t feel natural. However, to breathe, to walk, to not crumble, she knew no other choice. The gaping hole in her heart remained.
She picked up the phone and dialed her Aunt Muffie, who answered on the third ring and greeted with, “Happy Holidays.” Taddy inhaled a sharp breath, preventing a tear. Why does your voice always make me cry? Because you sound just like Mom. “Merry Christmas.”
“How is my favorite niece?”
“Auntie Muffie, you only have one niece—me.” Taddy laughed for a second then remembered the circumstances that had brought her to Canada. She filled her aunt in on Birdie.
“I heard about Birdie while lunching at the Colony Club last week. I haven’t seen her around town lately.”
When Taddy and Lex were younger, Birdie had befriended Aunt Muffie through her longstanding association with Countess Irma. When she and Lex went off to the Avon Porter Academy, Birdie stopped talking to Irma and Muffie. She never gave her a reason and Taddy didn’t pry, however Birdie made it obvious she wanted nothing to do with the Brillfords. Birdie kept up a good face of hellos but that was about it.
“Yup, Lex’s mom is sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re stuck with her for Christmas, dear. But that’s very much like you, Tabitha Adelaide.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d do anything for Lex, you always would. You gave her and Birdie the start-up capital to get Easton Essentials off the ground.” Her aunt coughed and then divulged, “You may not have much for parents. Thank heavens you have Lex for friendship.”
“Right.” No argument there.
“Have you heard from your mother this holiday?”
“Nope. I don’t know if she even has my number.”
“Irma has your cell. I’ve given her your number on many occasions.” Muffie cursed a few words before offering, “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Auntie.”
“Maybe your assistant at your office has spoken with them. It’s possible they’ve called there. No?” Muffie’s voice rose an octave. She was always so hopeful for a reunion.
“No.”
Dead silence between them. Taddy fisted her right hand. Her aunt pressed on with the usual denial.
“What about your father, has he—”
Stop, Auntie Muffie. “Please don’t.”
“My dear Tabitha Adelaide, I’m sorry. We won’t bring it up again. I don’t know what to say or do over it. Every holiday I hope for the best.”
“Me too.” She hated to admit it, but she’d give anything to see them again.
“You have every right to those feelings about my sister and the swine she married.” Muffie knew the truth about her parents. Her dad had made her mom choose. Taddy and a divorce, or stay married and denounce their child. By blood, Taddy wasn’t her father’s daughter. Joseph Graf won and the choice was made. Aunt Muffie did her best to be there for Taddy. Although Taddy’s natural instincts kept anyone related to her mother away.
Her cell phone chimed with an incoming call. Her screen flashed, “Viveca Farnworth”.
“I have to go, Auntie.”
“Be a dear and call me if Birdie gets worse. We must make arrangements.” That meant funeral. “Your mother and I have known Mrs. Easton longer than anyone else in this town.”
“Yes, I will see you soon. I—love you.” Taddy clicked over, not waiting for her to respond. She knew better. Aunt Muffie never stated, “I love you too.” Love didn’t exist in the Brillford vocabulary.
“Vive, thank God you called.”
“I just hung up with Lex. I feel so guilty spending Christmas in Anguilla while you two are in Canada.”
“Stop. Enjoy the time with your family.”
“Have you called home?” Vive slurped loudly into the phone.
“What are you drinking?”
“A piña colada with an extra rum floater on the top.” She made a licking lips sound into the phone and sassed, “Don’t change the topic. Answer my question.” Vive muffled the phone, asking whomever for a refill.
Lex had been the first to suggest to Taddy that perhaps Vive had a substance abuse problem. More specifically, diet pill addiction. Taddy had booked her at a facility in Malibu. No one knew, not even her parents, until Los Angeles paparazzi broke the story. Vive’s parents owned Farnworth’s Firewater, an aperitif meets schnapps with an eighty percent proof. To have the daughter of a liquor fortune go into treatment for anything, in particular drugs and alcohol, was salacious. Farnworth’s number-one rival was Jägermeister. Her family questioned if they’d leaked the story to the press.
Regardless, when Vive returned to New York from rehab, she kept on drinking. Her parents hailed from the vodka belt and drank more booze than water, so Vive came by it naturally. At least she’d quit the pills. It was a start.
“I’ve spoken to Lex, Auntie Muffie and now you today. You ladies are my home.” Taddy’s throat grew tight. Family topics made her queasy.
“Gotcha, girlie.” Vive burped. “Screw Christmas. Let’s talk about next week. Debauchery is slated to cosponsor a New Year’s Eve party on South Beach with Farnworth’s Firewater, but I’m backing out.”
“Why?”
“SoBe parties are aspirational. No real movers and shakers for my magazine’s image.” Vive laughed. “Not enough for me to be seen on Lincoln Road. You get what I’m sayin’?”
“That’s Miami, darling.” She reached over and took a sip from the detox beverage and made a face. It was too damn grainy and bitter. Baden executives, this isn’t going to sell.
“I’m staying in Anguilla with my brother and his dippy wife. If everything turns out okay with Birdie—and it will—do you and Lex wanna jet down?”
“Oh I’d love to. But I don’t want to get my hopes up.” Hope and Christmas didn’t go together for her. Taddy hoped to have heard from her parents. Fooled again. Taddy hoped she could go a year without Birdie drama. She didn’t come close. Her dream to spend this week in the warm sun, topless and admiring hot male bodies who in return admired her—shit, Taddy didn’t score that either. Canada? I still don’t flippin’ believe this.
“Understandable. My folks have their pilot on standby to fly back to New York if Birdie…you know.”
“I see…” Taddy noticed for the first time Vive, the fastest mouth in Manhattan, had fallen silent. She did too. Dumbfounded over their loss for what to say next, she ended their talk with, “Call you tomorrow, honey.”
Taddy hung up. Then she finished the Baden Cosmetics detox beverage. It tasted as close to shit as she ever wanted to come. She showered the mud off her body. Once in bed she tried to sleep. Nightmares about being abandoned woke her at midnight, again at three and five a.m. Just when she dozed off the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Taddy, I’m dying,” Birdie cried.
The doctor was ready to give his diagnosis.
* * * * *
“Eddie, I’m coming. I’ll be dead before the New Year,” Birdie chanted over and over again as if it were lyrics from one of her songs. She stayed for seven days. Observed, tested and analyzed. Medical reports concluded the same as what Dr. Fassenbender had speculated. Birdie did not have Stevens-Johnson syndrome. Rather acne rosacea, a mild case no less. Brought on by an at-home peel application she’d stolen from her local plastic surgeon’s office on East 63rd Street. She’d made it all worse with a Crème de La Switzerland night cream application, which had expired ages ago, but she was too cheap to replace.
“When I finish with you—you’ll wish you were dead,” Taddy mumbled to herself in Birdie’s direction. Concord Van General Hospital charged $175,253.84 to her American Express and somehow she managed not to even blink. She questioned herself as to why she even got involved to begin with. Dr. Fassenbender was right. Why didn’t she listen to him? When Taddy looked over at Lex, she remembered it was all for her. Not Birdie. Acne rosacea aside, this stunt didn’t hide the fact that Birdie was still in pain from losing Eddie. This was a cry for help, an expensive one at that.
Tempted to tell Birdie off, she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. This one takes the cake of all buttercream frosted cakes to take. Jesus. I don’t ask for much in life. I don’t get much in life. But you owe me. I’m not keeping a scorecard or anything, but you better write this puppy down. She splashed her face with cold water and then texted Kiki to confirm Birdie’s seat on the plane ride home. Taddy didn’t want to see her, let alone sit by her. Birdie sat in the last row, middle seat, near the lavatory in economy.
Booked in first class, Lex scoured over Harper’s Bazaar and ate sugar candy. Taddy required a good laugh and watched the movie My Man Godfrey. She identified with the character Irene Bullock, an all-over-the-place socialite desperate for love who falls for her butler, a man who cared for her every need. However, did a man similar to William Powell’s character really exist? Taddy felt clueless as to how any such devotion felt, but the desire for a man similar to Mr. Godfrey Park was starting to increase.
* * * * *
December 30
JFK Airport, Queens New York
An Air Canada flight attendant came over the aircraft intercom when they landed back home and announced, “Good morning, welcome to JFK International Airport. The local time is 8:10 a.m. The temperature in New York City is minus fifteen degrees. From your entire flight crew, have a happy holiday wherever your final destination may take you.”
“Why is New Year’s Eve always the coldest week of the year in this city?” She grabbed her Louis Vuitton roller bag off the carousel and noticed an advertisement above the signage. The slogan read “Leave Your Socks at Home. Dance Barefoot in the Caribbean This Season”. It spoke to Taddy as if she’d penned the damn jingle herself. “Lex,” she whispered over to her friend who drooled at the poster. “Are you thinking what I am?”
“Give me ten minutes.” Lex picked up Birdie’s luggage, then grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Alexandra!” Birdie shouted as Lex tugged at her old mink coat. One Eddie bought for her when he’d won his first Grammy.
“Let’s go outside, Mother.” Lex marched Birdie to the taxi stand.
Taddy watched from the windows. Lex put Birdie in a yellow cab and shouted to the driver, “Manhattan.” Slamming her fist down on the car’s hood, Lex gave a tight smile. “Happy New Year, Mother!” A quick turn and she was headed back inside Terminal Seven, determined to go someplace warm.
“This is why we remain friends.” Taddy hugged her.
Away from Birdie, Lex broke down once they reached the check-in area. “I’m sorry my mom ruined our Christmas.” She pulled Taddy into a nearby bathroom.
“It’s not the first holiday she’s messed up.” Disgusted at their get-up, Taddy frowned at the bathroom mirror. “We look like shit.” They’d flown for over seven hours. She reached for some facial tissues.
“Remember my dad on Thanksgiving?” Lex chuckled. She had a way of seeing humor even through the bad times. “My mom didn’t always ruin our special times. Dad ruled as king of wreck-the-holidays long before her.”
“How could I forget? We must’ve been ten or eleven. Eddie, may he rest in peace, with his own rock-n-roll float in the Macy’s parade.” She held onto the sink to brace herself while she fixed the sock riding up in her snow boot.
“NBC producers didn’t expect to secure such an erotic pan shot. My dad being ridden by his backup singer as fifty million viewers tuned in at home.” Lex laughed.
“It’s nice to see you smile again.” As they crept closer to thirty, it became easier to poke fun at their childhood.
“I promise I’ll pay you back, Taddy, for my mom’s hospital visit…I will. Easton Essentials is taking
off. The money will flow in soon.”
“Darling, if Birdie had kicked it six feet under, I’d say not to worry about reimbursement.” She pulled her close, fixing her hair and whispered, “With Birdie living on to wreak havoc—you’ll return every dollar plus ten percent interest.”
Lex pulled back. “You understand why Mom is this way—don’t you?” Tears streamed down her porcelain face.
“Eddie.” Taddy wiped her friend’s cheeks. Their parents’ bad choices sewed a common thread between them. Birdie had become Eddie’s fashion doll and life sacrifice. Her mother, Countess Irma, had lost herself and Taddy as her daughter a long time ago. Taddy couldn’t discern which felt worse, Birdie being a nut job but still keeping one foot in the game, or her mother sitting penthouse classy, going along with whatever her husband demanded but abandoning her kid. Either way, both women had left scars.
Lex shook her head and tried to answer her own question. “Yes…promise me something, Taddy.” Her best friend gazed at her with an expectation.
“Sure. Anything.”
“It’s obvious men screwed up our mother’s lives.”
“True.”
“Let’s do what Manhattanites do best—focus on our careers—not let a man ruin our opportunities for happiness.”
“Umm, dah.” To such an uncomplicated bestie request, she reassured, “No problem. We’ll swear off men together for future dating and relationships. But I’m still using ‘em for sex.” Taddy pushed her friend’s honey-colored bangs back one last time and positioned her to face the mirror. “Let’s try to have some fun.” She handed Lex a Baden Cosmetics lip gloss tube in the shade Double Penetration.
“Taddy—have you ever noticed as we get older we look more alike?” Jaw up, Lex leaned in and tilted her head to the side.
“We’ve always had similar bone structure, but different hair color. It’s the New York water.” Taddy smiled. “Let’s go.”
The departing monitors flashed two flights to tropical destinations.