Stones

by Marilyn Baron

  I cringe. Knowing Little Jon, I know she is right. He’s going to have a lot to deal with at once. And I am determined to be there for him if he needs me. Because you don’t desert your friends.

  “Dr. Shack is trained to deal with those types of issues,” I say.

  “Not if it’s his own son,” Natalie points out. “I know Dr. Shack. He’ll say Greg just has deep-seated gender issues.”

  “You may be right,” I acknowledge, and wisely change the subject.

  “Does the bridesmaid dress I sent you fit?” I inquire, when what I really want to know is whether she has lost any weight since the dress was altered.

  Natalie hesitates. “Yes, it may even be a little tight.”

  “Really?” I respond, barely able to conceal my joy.

  “No, not really, but I thought that would make you happy.” Natalie laughs.

  “It won’t make me happy unless it’s true,” I chide gently. “Are you eating your porridge, Goldilocks?”

  “Yes, Mama Bear. But I think you’re in the wrong fairy tale. You’re more like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, always trying to fatten me up.” Natalie laughs again, and since she feels comfortable laughing about it, so do I.

  “To answer your question, truthfully, the dress is a perfect fit,” Natalie admits.

  “Good,” I breathe. “I still think the color is a little out there. Pink might have been nicer.” Do I always have to stick my two cents in where it doesn’t belong? Apparently, yes.

  “Zandy’s not a huge pink person,” Natalie responds. “Any other questions?”

  “Are you still getting along with your roommate?” I wonder.

  “When she’s not trying to impress me with her uniqueness. But she’s hardly ever home. She gets picked up every night at parties, multiple times, so yeah, we get along great. I think deep down she’s just insecure. I was wondering if I could bring her home for the weekend.” Natalie paused, then announced, “She’s anorexic.”

  “Good,” I reply cheerfully. “Then I won’t have to do any cooking, will I?”

  I can look back on those days now, because thankfully the worst of the ordeal is behind us. When Natalie went off to college, I threw away all of her old clothes I associated with her illness. I even tried to wipe away all the old memories by having the entire house repainted. I covered the cool, elegant taupe walls with pastel pinks and yellows and white, reminiscent of the bright colors of Bermuda. It didn’t help Natalie, but it lifted my spirits.

  Although Natalie no longer has to see her therapist, she still has “food issues.” And I still feel as if I have to watch her like a hawk. I’ll always wonder whether it was somehow my fault. Was Natalie chirping for my attention like a hungry baby bird in the nest? Was she sick because of something I had done? Or hadn’t done? But now, whenever I have doubts, Mackie tells me to stop blaming myself.

  “It’s out of your control now. She’s already baked.”

  Together Natalie and I, out of sheer stubbornness, got through the roughest period, and Natalie triumphed over her sickness. She relied on my strength, and I relied on Matt and Josh and Little Jon. I am so proud of my daughter. We have accomplished what we set out to do, and in my mind, that chapter in our lives is closed. Even though I know I’m probably compartmentalizing and sticking my head in the sand.

  In time, I have gained a new perspective on Natalie’s problem and lost some of my intensity. In fact quips like the roommate remark, that would have previously set me off, today simply roll off my back.

  On to the next controversial subject.

  “Well, then, how are your grades?” I ask.

  “I’d rather talk about Greg.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?” I probe.

  “I got a C on my last macroeconomics test,” Natalie reveals sheepishly.

  “A C?”

  “A high C,” she qualifies.

  “Hi-C is a drink, not a grade,” I say, before I can stop the words from coming out of my mouth. I have to stop expecting perfection from my children and myself. “C’s are nice,” I amend, almost choking on my words before we say our goodbyes.

  Natalie is facing the challenge of college, losing the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, and learning to love again. She is still struggling with getting over the hurt of not having Greg love her back completely. But I know she’ll survive it. She’s already survived worse than that.

  Still, I have to catch myself every time I have the inclination to interfere in Natalie’s new-found independent life. Likewise, should I just mind my own business and stay out of my best friend’s marriage before I do any more damage? Or should I have a talk with Little Jon, return the favor and repay him for all the help he’s given me and Natalie? If it weren’t for Little Jon, I might not be here today, about to celebrate my son’s wedding.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine:

  The Suarez-Paver Wedding Reception

  Three Months Later

  Mattb@globalshipping.net: Hey, baby, can you get away after the wedding?

  Jewels@aol.com: Sure. I’m up for anything, if you are.

  Mattb@globalshipping.net: You looked incredible in that dress this evening. I can’t wait to get you out of it.

  Jewels@aol.com: What about your wife? Won’t she mind?

  Mattb@globalshipping.net: My wife is a very understanding woman.

  Jewels@aol.com: Up to a point. Don’t keep me waiting, Schatzi.

  ****

  “So that’s the infamous Barnyard,” I say to Natalie, observing my daughter’s boyfriend as he ambles across the room toward her.

  “Mom, it’s Bernard. Don’t you dare call him Barnyard to his face.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s kind of cute. Does he bray?”

  “Mom,” Natalie implores. “You’re impossible. Stop it right now. He’s coming over, and I want you to behave.”

  “No more animal jokes. I promise.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I notice Manny walking over to Josh and Zandy. I grab Matt’s hand in alarm and direct his attention to the head table.

  “Relax,” Matt says. “Remember, he doesn’t know. It’s our secret now.”

  I take a deep breath. It looks like Manny is having a “man-to-man” talk with my son, no doubt trying to give him the benefit of his limited expertise on women. But Josh is too busy looking at his new bride to notice. She is beautiful, as a young bride should be, and he is over the moon. I presented the emerald medallion to Zandy this morning as a special wedding gift because I want it to remain in the family and because I am finally ready to give it up. My emerald medallion—now Zandy’s emerald medallion—sparkles brilliantly against her white satin wedding gown and her rich, olive skin. But the light of love shining in my son’s eyes, reflected back in his wife’s, is even brighter.

  I see Manny hand Josh an envelope and urge him to open it. Then I see my son shake his head and try to press the envelope back into Manny’s hand, but he refuses to accept it. My son looks shocked. Manny says a few words to him and then walks away.

  Josh strides over to us. He seems agitated.

  “What did he say to you?” I ask evenly.

  “He gave me this,” Josh says, and handed me a check.

  My mouth falls open.

  “Five thousand dollars. Mom, that’s creepy,” Josh says. “I told him we couldn’t accept it. It’s way too much. He wouldn’t take it back.”

  I look at Matt and frown. Could Manny have guessed somehow?

  “His mother and your grandmother are best friends,” Matt explains. “Manny has been a friend of your mother’s her entire life. He can afford it. You know he doesn’t have any kids of his own. He probably thinks of you like a son.” I know that is hard for Matt to admit.

  “What did he say to you?” I repeat, squeezing Matt’s hand. “I want to know exactly what he said to you.”

  “He said, ‘Be happy. Just be happy.’ ”

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Thank goodness you d
idn’t tell him,” Matt jokes when Josh walks back to Zandy. “He’d probably slip up and leave Josh all his worldly possessions when he dies, although that day couldn’t come soon enough for me.”

  Matt gets more serious. “You know, we should probably tell him the truth one day, Julie, or it will eat us both alive. It’s probably the right thing to do. We can’t hide our heads in the sand forever.”

  “But you said Josh will hate us when he finds out we’ve kept something so important from him,” I remind him.

  “He’s married now. Soon he’ll be starting a family of his own. He’s old enough to understand and forgive us. I trust my relationship with my son. It’s Manny I don’t trust. He’s a loose cannon. He might figure it out. But we don’t have to tell Manny about it unless Josh decides he wants to pursue the relationship,” Matt reasons.

  “I don’t want Manny in our lives,” I insist stubbornly.

  “Julie, he’s already in our lives,” he says quietly, taking my hands between his and rubbing them, so I’ll know he isn’t condemning me. “He’s always been there between us, right from the start.”

  I can’t deny that.

  “But I’ll respect your wishes,” Matt says and smiles.

  A few minutes later, as if he is reading my mind, Manny walks over to me.

  “Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your check?” I pose dryly.

  Manny looks sheepish.

  “You wanted to give more, didn’t you?” I smile. “That’s your style. Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”

  “I figured I owed Matt, both of you,” Manny explains. “I know your husband is pissed off at me. I appreciate you inviting us to the wedding and not saying anything about what went on between us to Nita.”

  “That’s because nothing went on between us,” I say easily. “And nothing ever will.”

  Locking onto my eyes, and leaking charm out of every pore, he flashes me his best killer smile. “How about a dance, for old time’s sake, Jewels?”

  “I think I’ll sit this one out with my husband. Why don’t you ask your wife to dance, instead?” Nita looks lovely and lonely sitting in the corner in her crisp white linen suit. Not at all like an evil witch.

  “You’re turning me down?”

  “It looks that way.”

  He looks at me in disbelief. For the first time in his life he is speechless. Nice try, Gellar, but you can’t get to me anymore.

  “But you hate Nita,” he states.

  “It’s true I can only take her in small doses, but she’s the only wife you’ve got, so I suggest you start acting like she means something to you, if you want to keep her. And actually, no, I don’t hate her. I sympathize with her.” Then I walk away, taking the last word with me.

  “I saw that rat trying to skewer you with his big brown bedroom eyes,” Mackie observes a few minutes later.

  “Yes,” I answer. “Isn’t it great? I don’t feel a single palpitation.”

  “Not even a pitter-patter or a ping?”

  “Not even a flutter. I’m finally immune to him, Mackie. I’m over him. No regrets. I’ve flushed him out of my system.” Whatever I once felt for him is gone with the hurricane-force winds. “The White Witch can have him with my blessing,” I add.

  “The White Witch does have him,” Mackie says, trying to gauge my sincerity.

  “That’s her problem, then. You know, I feel so generous I’m thinking of proposing Nita for membership in The Colonoscopy Club.”

  “Are you serious?” Mackie asks.

  “I so am. Has she had her colonoscopy yet?”

  “Uh, well, she, um—” Mackie stammers.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I press.

  “We had ours together, on the same day, at the same doctor’s office.”

  I open my mouth to say something, and then I just close it.

  “I’m sorry,” Mackie says. “I guess you’ve changed your mind about membership, then.”

  “Oh, why the hell not? I’m getting tired of hating her,” I admit. “After all she’s had to put up with from Manny, she deserves a membership and a medal.”

  “I think she’ll make a great addition,” Mackie agrees. “Let’s go over and tell her together.”

  “I’ll offer the olive branch myself. Right now, I think there’s someone else you should be talking to.” I nod in the direction of the bar.

  Little Jon is staring at Mackie from across the room, heading her way with a lovesick look in his eyes I haven’t seen there for a long time. My heart-to-heart talk with him must have hit home.

  “Hey, it looks like you two are solid again,” I say. Mackie and Little Jon acted like lovebirds at Thanksgiving dinner, and Little Jon had been surprisingly understanding about the bombshell Greg dropped over the meal. That’s because it wasn’t really a bombshell. I had let Little Jon in on Greg’s little secret in advance because I didn’t want him to break his son’s heart with what I thought would be his initial knee-jerk reaction. Of course, I’d sold the man short. His total acceptance of his son’s new lifestyle was sincere.

  “He’s like a new man, Julie. It’s great. I think he’s really sorry he screwed up. He’s trying his best to get back into my good graces, and I’m not making it easy for him. In fact, I’m almost done torturing him,” Mackie discloses with glee. “And by the way, I meant to thank you for talking to Little Jon before Thanksgiving.”

  “He told you?”

  “Yes, he’s trying honesty for a change, and it’s working.”

  “I was afraid you’d think I was interfering,” I say.

  “You were, and that’s what best friends are for. I’d like to think he’d have handled the situation like a man, but actually, I was really afraid that he’d handle the situation like a man.” We laugh together and it feels good.

  “How is Greg?”

  “Greg is fine, in fact, better than fine. It’s the rest of his family that’s screwed up.” Mackie laughs. “And by the way, he approves of his best friend’s choice in men.”

  “He gave Barnyard his official stamp of approval?”

  “Yes, Barnyard is U.S.D.A. Prime Beef, according to Greg.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Well, aren’t we the perfect pair?” Mackie muses. “Trying to match up Natalie and Greg. We’re no better than your mother and Elena trying to push you and Manny together. We were kidding ourselves.”

  “Were we?” I risk asking.

  “What did we know, right?” Mackie pauses and heaves a sigh. “I suspected,” she admits. “But I guess I had my head stuck in the sand. They seemed to be in love.”

  “They did love each other, Mackie. Their feelings were real,” I acknowledge. “We can keep each other company in that sandbox.”

  Let’s make our next meeting of The Colonoscopy Club a spa day in Miami,” Mackie suggests. “Then I want you to help pick out a nice, expensive piece of jewelry Little Jon can buy for me at Stones.”

  “I’ll give him the family discount.”

  “Not on your life. I want that man to pay full retail price.”

  “I hear you, girlfriend, and that can definitely be arranged.” I laugh. “But I’ll refund the discount to you, in cash.”

  “I might even want to have a little affair of my own,” Mackie’s eyes sparkle. “I’m feeling kind of wicked.”

  “I hope you’re kidding,” I admonish. “Because if you’re not, I have just three words of advice for you. Don’t ever cheat. It will take years off your life, and at our age, we can hardly afford that. I thought I was living out my fantasy, but it turned out to be a nightmare. Matt’s only just forgiven me, and things are better than ever between us, but it could just as easily have gone the other way.”

  “What if I catch Little Jon with another waitress?” Mackie wonders.

  “I don’t care if Little Jon screws every bimbo in the bar. Dump him, divorce him, or disembowel him. Just don’t cheat on him. Don’t punish yourself for his mistakes.”


  “That’s not fair,” Mackie complains. “Men think it’s their God-given right to drop their pants whenever and wherever they get the urge, while women are supposed to remain faithful. Talk about unfaithful. Who’s the amazing-looking blonde with her hands all over your husband?”

  I turn to see über-Barbie cozying up to Matt. “He had me invite his very shapely sidekick, Gretchen, from the German office.” Taking time to calculate her assets, I am hard-pressed to find any liabilities. Cripes, could the woman be any more magnificent?

  I hightail it over to the bar before Homewrecker Barbie’s hands can crawl any higher up or inside my husband’s shirt. Could the in-your-face floozy be any more obvious about her intentions where my husband is concerned? Could her body-hugging silk sheath be any shorter or tighter? I dare you to breathe in that outfit, Gretchen.

  The thought of another woman with Matt, especially this woman, is driving me insane. I am a thrower, so my first instinct is to look around for something to hurl. Instead, I exercise restraint when I approach, only glaring at my competition—viciously.

  “Matt, schatz,” Gretchen purrs, ignoring the warning signals, rubbing the fleshy part of Matt’s arm as she offers him a simpering smile. Even hidden under his tailored tuxedo, Matt’s muscles, bulging and buff, swell and take on a life of their own.

  Schatz? Jeesh, I hope I’m not too late. What if they have already gone beyond the terms-of-endearment stage?

  “Is this your wife?” she sneers, with a self-satisfied smile that dismisses me as only a minor threat.

  I suddenly see what Gretchen sees in my husband, what I almost let get away. In the past year, Matt has made frequent trips to Germany, logging more miles than an airline captain. Don’t pilots who fly international routes keep secret second families or lovers on the other side of the ocean? Maybe I should have paid more attention. I have so carelessly taken Matt for granted.

  Matt makes the introductions.

  “Julie, I don’t think you’ve met Gretchen Kleinmann yet. Gretchen is my new sales vice president.”