“If I can,” she said.
“Am I… Was I really as bad as this book says I was?”
Claire shrugged. “Well, they say you did some drugs. That’s how you died.”
Elvis nodded. “I know about the drugs. But did I do all the other stuff?”
“You ate too much peanut butter and bacon. You got fat,” Claire said. “Sorry to be so blunt, but there you have it.”
“I’m not talking about my girth. What I meant to say was… did I treat Priscilla that bad?” he asked.
“I think you had an affair with Ann-Margret,” Clair said. “And some others, too.”
Elvis covered his face with both hands and sobbed again. Claire waited a few moments then got out of bed and knelt on the floor in front of him. She gently took him by the wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. “You weren’t all bad, Elvis. You brought a lot of joy to a lot of people.”
“I loved Priscilla. I really did. She was everything to me. Her and Lisa Marie. Why did I ruin it all?” he sputtered. “When she left, she took my heart with her. I tried to fill it with food and drugs and women…” He cried a moment then said, “Don’t be cruel to a heart that’s true. I sang those words but didn’t understand them.”
Claire patted his hand, saying, “Sometimes we don’t know what love is even when it’s staring us in the face.”
Elvis looked into her eyes and said pointedly, “Don’t let it happen to you. If you are lucky enough to love and be loved, take my word for it, don’t throw it away.”
Claire swallowed. “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Claire walked back to her bed and when she turned around, Elvis was gone. She crawled back under the covers and clapped off the lights. She slept peacefully for the first time in over a week.
Fred
The next morning Claire was feeding another dozen yellow roses down the garbage disposal. Scarlet had sent a dozen roses every day this week. And instead of making Claire happy, the flowers made her sad. They were a constant reminder that something was dreadfully wrong with her relationship.
Meyer sat on the counter watching her. It seemed to fascinate him that she could make the roses disappear. Oscar sat at her feet looking up at her with soulful brown eyes.
“At least you two haven’t abandoned me,” Claire said, feeling sorry for herself. She finished with the roses, knelt down and hugged Oscar. “I’m sorry I thought I was allergic to you. And I’m glad you peed on Scarlet’s bag. She deserved it.”
“The problem is that you don’t like Scarlet either,” a voice said. “Your butt hasn’t itched once since she’s been gone, has it?”
Claire whirled around. The blind lady from next door stood in the doorway looking in her general direction. She must’ve come in when Claire was using the garbage disposal and she didn’t hear her.
“And if you don’t want the flowers I wish you’d stop wasting them like that. I’ll take them to the cemetery. I’m sure someone there would appreciate a little color on top,” the blind lady said.
“A little color on top?” Claire asked, standing back up.
“On top of the graves. I go there to see my husband every day. Lots of the graves could use some sprucing up. Those flowers would help.”
“How did you know I was disposing of flowers?”
The blind lady tapped her nose. It was at that moment Claire noticed something she’d never seen before. Peeking out from under the blind lady’s sweater sleeve was a row of numbers. A row of faded numbers was tattooed on her left forearm.
Claire pried her gaze away from the tattoo. Somehow it felt like prying or peeking through somebody’s living room window when they weren’t home. “Oh. Okay, I’ll start saving the roses for you.”
“Thank you, but I have a feeling you won’t be getting many more.”
“Why?” Claire asked. “Wait a minute. I thought you were deaf and blind. How do you know the graves need sprucing up?”
“It’s not hard to imagine neglect,” the blind woman said. “It’s everywhere.” She gestured around the room like maybe neglect was cowering in a corner of the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you tell us to feed the cats? Why did you keep doing it if you knew we were here? We tried to explain but we thought you were deaf.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “It’s funny how much you can learn about a person when they think you can’t hear them. I’m sorry, it was awful of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. You made the assumption and I just rolled with it. I must say the lot of you have been mighty entertaining.”
“Well, I’m glad we could be of some use.”
“I want you to come to the cemetery with me. Bring the girls too,” the blind lady said.
“What girls?”
“Oscar and Meyer.”
“I thought Meyer was a boy hedgehog.”
“No, he is all she.”
Claire didn’t want to know how she knew that. “I didn’t think you can bring animals to a cemetery.”
“You can if you own the place. I’m Frederica Von Lenkenburg, proprietor of the Shady Oaks resting sanctuary. Please call me Fred.”
“I’m Claire.”
“Oh, I know who you all are. Damn, if this place isn’t better than listening to the soaps.”
“How come you didn’t answer us when we first got here? Were you pretending to be deaf?”
“No, I had my ear bugs in. I was streaming NPR. It wasn’t until the next day I figured out that you were here, but by then you all had your own ideas about me. Now, get your coat and we’ll go see Hans.”
“Who’s Hans?”
“My husband.”
“I sold my car. I can’t go anywhere.”
“We’ll take the bus, honey. Terence stops right in the front of the house at eleven sharp every day.”
“There’s a bus stop in front of your house?”
“There is if you’re blind and tip the driver.”
“What about Oscar and Meyer? Are they allowed on the bus?”
“Meyer can ride in my purse. And nobody ever tells a blind person they can’t have a dog on a leash.”
Claire grabbed her coat on the way out the door. She had to hustle to keep up.
White Knight
“Good morning, Terrence. This is my friend,” Fred said to the bus driver as she climbed the bus steps.
“Good morning, friend,” Terrence said, tipping his hat. Claire thought he looked like an off-white version of Morgan Freeman.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Claire.”
“I am Terrance,” the driver said. “The gallant knight who escorts Fred around this fair city.”
“Oh, how you do talk,” Fred said, patting him on the shoulder. “Put Claire on my tab. Do you charge for the dog?”
“Naw, not for you, sweet lady,” Terrance said. Oscar sniffed Terrance’s pant leg and got his head patted in return.
Claire and Fred took a seat right behind Terrence.
“So what brings you out today, Claire?” he asked as they pulled away from the curb.
Fred answered for her, “She needs to reorient her perspective on love and life. I thought Hans could help.”
Claire was alarmed. They were going to the cemetery to talk to Fred’s dead husband about the fuck-ups in her love life?
“Well, Hans should be able to help with that,” Terence said amiably. “After all, the man married the city’s best looking woman and kept her for life.”
“Hans changed Terrance’s life,” Fred said. “Isn’t that right, Terrance?”
“Ah,” Terence said. “He changed my world. That man may be dead, but he sure knows what he’s talking about.”
“I’m lost,” Claire said. “How can I possibly talk to Hans?”
“Oh, he may be dead as a doornail,” Fred said. “But there’s something about going to a grave that forces you to look at your own mortality and realize what is important in life and what’s not.”
Claire let that soak in. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
*
Fred had been right. A lot of the graves were neglected. Claire felt guilty for throwing away perfectly good roses.
“Hello, Hans,” Fred said, stopping before a headstone. “This is my new friend, Claire. She’s the one I told you about.”
“Hi,” Claire said. She felt foolish talking to a headstone. “Nice to meet you. I wish I could’ve met you while you were still alive.”
This dialogue seemed to please Fred. “He says it’s nice to meet you, too.”
Claire smiled. She didn’t know what else to do, so she did nothing. Fred said, “You can ask Hans anything. He’s a good listener and very non-judgmental. I’ll give you two some privacy.”
“You’re leaving?” Claire asked.
“I’ll be sitting right over there,” Fred said, pointing to a bench under the shade of a majestic oak tree. “Take as much time as you need.”
Fred used her cane to tap over to the bench. Claire watched her sit and tilt her face toward a small patch of dappled sunlight. Oscar and Meyer curled up together under the bench. Claire turned back to the headstone. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
There was no answer, of course.
“Fred thinks I’m going to talk to you and somehow my life will be changed for the better. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. I mean, come on, really? My life is so screwed up that it defies fixing of any sort. First, I left a woman I loved who didn’t live up to my idea of what my life partner should be. Then I found a woman who fit my idea of what my partner should be… the only problem is that I don’t love her. Pretty screwed up, am I right?”
Claire shuffled her feet. “You had it easy. You loved a woman and she was perfect for you.”
Claire knew that supposition probably wasn’t fair. Marriages take work. At least that’s what everyone always says. Hans and Fred probably had some hard times.
That’s when it hit her. Hans was a German name. And Fred had those numbers tattooed on her wrist. Which meant she was Jewish. And she’d been in a concentration camp.
So Fred, a Jew in a concentration camp, and Hans, a German, had fallen in love. And somehow, their love had survived. Against all odds, against the backdrop of a world war that tried to separate them, their love had survived and flourished and was still alive!
That realization made Claire feel very small. Very small indeed. What was a tiny pool incident next to a holocaust? And if their love could flourish, why couldn’t hers?
Trembling, Claire walked over to Fred. “Fred?”
“Yes, child?”
“I have to go. I have to find Ollie now.”
Fred smiled. “Go. Don’t worry about us. I’ll bring Meyer and Oscar home later.”
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“Of course I will. Terrance will pick me up in about forty-five minutes. He always does.”
“Okay,” Claire said. “I’m going to go now. I’ll meet you back home later.”
“Bye, darling,” Fred said. “Mazel Tov.”
“Thank you,” Claire said. She turned and walked toward the cemetery gates.
“I would run if I were you,” Fred called out.
So Claire did. She ran.
Just Married
It only took about three blocks before Claire realized she couldn’t run the whole way to Sleepy Hollow. She slowed to a walk and tried to catch her breath. She looked both ways up and down the street but didn’t see any taxis. She didn’t even see a bus stop. Just as she resigned herself to walking all the way, she spotted her salvation. A limo was parked outside a church. It had Just Married soaped across its back window, and tin cans strung behind it. The limo driver was leaning against its hood, smoking a cigarette.
Claire walked straight up to him and without preamble said, “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to drive me out to Sleepy Hollow.”
The driver looked at her, looked at the church door, looked at his watch and threw his cigarette to the ground. He stomped it out with a twist of his heel and opened the limo’s door. Bowing from the waist he said, “Your chariot awaits.”
Claire slipped inside and breathed a giant sigh of relief as the limo pulled away from the curb.
The Happy Ending
Ollie snowboarded every day after she clocked out of work. It was one of the perks of the job. Today, she finished pulling on her boots, grabbed her hat, gloves and goggles and set off for the hill, her board tucked under her arm. The day was another crisp, blue-skied beauty and Ollie wished Claire was there to share it with her. Then she remembered Claire was not talking to her.
Delilah was operating Lift Two when Ollie approached the chair. “Hey, there, sweet thing. How’s it hanging?” Delilah said.
“You do realize I’m old enough to be your mother,” Ollie said. She amazed herself at how prim and proper she sounded. The girl was obviously flirting with her, why didn’t she flirt back?
“I like the Mommy thing. We can play house if you want. I’ll be Daddy,” Delilah said with a lascivious smile.
A couple of years ago Ollie would have been so all over that. She and Delilah would’ve been rolling around in bed all day. But now all Ollie could think about was Claire. Damn her. Claire was screwing up everything. She’d probably never be able to have sex again because all she would ever think about would be Claire.
It was all Ollie could do to return Delilah’s smile. “Better luck with somebody else,” Ollie said.
“Ah, you’re no fun.”
Ollie hopped on the chair but not before Delilah had a chance to swat her ass. The chair took off. “Got a pretty firm ass for an old lady,” Delilah said.
Ollie laughed.
The
Real Happy Ending
Claire didn’t know a person could perspire when it was so cold outside. By the time she got to the Sleepy Hollow rental shop, she was huffing and puffing and sweat was dripping down her back. She threw open the door and dragged her wet feet over to the counter. She didn’t see a single soul. “Anybody here?” she called out.
There was no answer.
She looked at her watch. Damn. It was ten minutes after closing time. Ollie was already gone. That was when she saw the message on the counter in Ollie’s handwriting. It read, “G-Ray, I closed up shop and went snowboarding. See ya later! Ollie.”
So she was snowboarding! She could find Ollie out on the slopes. Do they call them slopes when snowboarding or is that just for skiing?
Claire looked down at her soggy feet. There was no way she could go back out in the snow and cold with wet clothes and wet feet. She looked around the shop. Maybe she could borrow a snowsuit and boots. She could pay later.
It took Claire about ten minutes to fully outfit herself and head out in search of her one true love.
Okay, Seriously, This Is the Real Happy Ending
“There’s the ever fair Claire. Are you looking for my dolly, Ollie?”
Claire laughed politely. She didn’t want to offend Delilah, but secretly she didn’t trust her. She had an inkling that Delilah had the hots for Ollie, so she didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her. “Do you know where Ollie is?”
“Maybe,” Delilah said. “Who wants to know?”
“I do, Delilah. It’s really important that I find her. So, if you know where she is, I’d appreciate you telling me.”
Delilah looked her up and down. “You going to break her heart again? ‘Cause you look like that’s what you’re going to do.”
“I’m not going to break her heart. I’m going to ask her to marry me, if you must know.”
“I thought you were already married to her.”
“I am. I meant I’m going to ask her to stay married to me.”
“Hmmm…” Delilah said. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
“So you’ll tell me where she is?”
“She’s right behind you about fifty yards.”
&
nbsp; Claire turned and watched as Ollie effortlessly glided down the hill. Ollie was a beautiful snowboarder. Her turns were carved perfection. Claire imagined herself following behind Ollie for the rest of her life, crisscrossing her tracks and making perfect figure eights.
“Listen,” Claire said, “Can you get us on the lift together? I don’t think she really wants to talk to me, so I need to, you know…”
“Trick her and hold her hostage?” Delilah said.
“Well… yeah. I need her to sit still long enough to hear me out.”
“Can do, sweet lady,” Delilah said. “You’re lucky I believe in true love. Here she comes now. Don’t let her see your face.”
Claire pulled the rented goggles down over her eyes and turned her head as Ollie swooshed in on her board. Ollie didn’t give Claire a second look as she clicked out of her binding and shuffled toward the lift. Two guys got on and a chair went by. Delilah motioned for Ollie to hold up. She let another two chairs go by and then said, “You can get on now.”
Ollie did as instructed. Delilah gave Claire a little shove. Claire quickly hopped on the chair next to Ollie. Ollie said to Delilah. “What? There aren’t enough empty chairs?”
“Not today, my friend,” Delilah said.
“No offence,” Ollie said to her mysterious chair companion who was leaning away from her on her side of the chair.
They rode in companionable silence until Claire figured they were a quarter of the way up the hill. “Nice day for snowboarding,” she said.
Ollie swiveled in the chair. “Claire?”
Claire pulled her goggles up. “Hi, Ollie.”
The chairlift stopped. “What the…?” Ollie turned to look downhill but there was nothing to see, as there was a slight rise in the hill that blocked the lift shack.
“I need to talk to you,” Claire said.
“What’s going on? Why all the subterfuge?”
“Because I was afraid you wouldn’t listen to me. Delilah stopped the lift so you would hear me out. I know you don’t want to talk to me, so just let me say what I have to say, okay? ‘Cause I’m really nervous and my stomach has butterflies and my butt itches,” Claire said.
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