Husbands and Other Sharp Objects

by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

  Chapter 25

  In the morning, almost everyone who had arrived early for the wedding was in the Outrigger restaurant, where there was a buffet breakfast.

  The Outrigger was draped with sails. The lighting was polished brass, like you’d find on a cruise ship. There were buoys pinned to the walls. Tablecloths were waves of red, white, and blue. White napkins were folded into the shape of sailor caps. I don’t do well on boats. And the Outrigger was enough to make me seasick.

  Upon entering the room, I heard Feldman’s voice. He was with Harvey, of course, at a table of middle-aged brassiere kings and their queens who had turned the wedding into a vacation in Florida. I could hear Feldman telling the group, “I told Harvey to invite every one of you titans and write the whole wedding off on his taxes. Deduct, deduct, and deduct.” So, that was why Harvey had insisted on so many business associates.

  Breakfast was included with the hotel rate, so Harvey was joking that he was treating to breakfast. He turned and saw me and suggested I stop to say hello to his cousins from Montreal, so I did. They asked with whom they were seated at the wedding. I replied that Amanda had presided over the seating plan, so I didn’t have a clue.

  Amanda and Jake were at the center of the room with Amanda’s friend Darcy, whom she had known since preschool. Also, there was a man I didn’t know in a sweater vest with buttons over a golf shirt. Who wears a vest at a resort in Florida? He was chunky, with a big bottom, like someone who sat all day and stood up only to get a bag of chips and a diet soda. His hair was swept back in a long ponytail. His wire-rimmed glasses were balanced on the tip of his nose.

  “Mom!” Amanda waved.

  Jake hailed me over as well.

  I liked being liked. I approached the oval table to join Jake, Amanda, their friends, and the man.

  “Mom, this is Dr. Genesis,” Amanda said.

  I shook hands with the doctor.

  “Dr. Genesis is going to marry us,” Jake said.

  “Oh, you’re the psychiatrist,” I said.

  “And an ordained Global Life minister,” he said. “Are you going up to the buffet, Mrs. Hammer?”

  “Marcy. And yes.”

  We walked over to the sumptuous display of food—a bounty of fruit, yogurt, cereal, a parade of bread that included hard and soft rolls, croissants, bagels, French bread, and English muffins. Brass chafing dishes groaned with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, French toast, pancakes. There was a waffle iron with warm syrup and a tanker of whipped cream beside it. A man in a tall chef hat was preparing omelets.

  I filled my plate with honeydew and cantaloupe, some blueberries and strawberries. I made a waffle. I felt someone behind me as I lifted my waffle onto my plate.

  “No lox,” Dr. Genesis said, looking down disappointedly at his lonely sesame seed bagel.

  “Well, there’s so much to choose from,” I said. “Maybe they’ll have lox at the next bar mitzvah.”

  “I really need some Nova.”

  “What a kvetch,” I heard my mother say. “Psychiatrists—they’re all crazy.”

  “I hate when they cheap out on the lox,” he said. “It infuriates me. Does it infuriate you?”

  “Not really,” I said, thinking, I can’t believe this man is a shrink—my son-in-law’s shrink and consulted by my daughter as well.

  “What does infuriate you?” he asked, as though I were opposite him on his couch.

  “Are you going to charge me your hourly rate if I answer that question?”

  “No. This one is on the house.”

  “Global Life ministers,” I said. Sometimes the truth just comes flowing out.

  “Oh, yes, I heard all the parents wanted a rabbi to perform the service.”

  I knew Harvey and I did. But I didn’t know Mug and Max were in agreement.

  “Do you cling to the past about everything, Mrs. Hammer?”

  I didn’t like his questions or his condescending tone. Since when was wanting a rabbi to perform a service clinging to the past?

  “No, but I enjoy tradition. You must know what tradition is. Seeing that you are looking for lox for your bagel.”

  “Jake is an atheist,” he said.

  “No one is an atheist in a foxhole.”

  “How do you know? Have you been in a foxhole? Now, was it you or Mr. Hammer who demanded the pigs in a blanket?”

  Jake and Amanda were consulting a shrink to discuss Harvey and pigs in a blanket? And what happened to patient confidentiality anyway?

  Dr. Genesis followed me back to our table. When we got there, Mug had taken the chair adjacent to her son.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m Mug, Jake’s mother.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” Jake’s shrink replied.

  Following a day at the beach and the pool, the immediate family gathered for dinner at the hotel’s most popular restaurant. Amanda and Jake had excused themselves in order to have a final evening together as single people.

  I arrived first. The restaurant was called the Tropical, and its theme was rain forest. I could hear the sounds of water over rocks, hooting animals in the background, and the occasional rain and thunder. Each table was surrounded by vegetation. A hostess in a camouflage-brimmed hat and boots led me to a six-top with weathered chairs.

  As I waited for the others, I slipped out my phone and checked Facebook. I never posted. I left that to Cheyenne. But I was a Peeping Marcy. A sculptor I knew had posted a photo of a cat she’d had to put to sleep. It was a nice tabby, but it looked a bit lethargic. There was also a shot of someone’s knee, scarlet, oozing, and swollen. I don’t recommend looking at Facebook before dinner.

  Elisabeth came to the table in a classic lavender sheath dress and strappy sandals. Her hair was in a French braid.

  “Sit here,” I said, pointing to the seat next to me.

  “Wait. Where’s Grandma going to sit?” No one wanted to be next to Harvey’s mother in a restaurant. She was haughty enough to bring young waiters and busboys to tears.

  “Next to Dad, I guess.”

  Elisabeth schemed for a moment, attempting to ascertain which seat Florence would pick. She gave up and eased into a chair next to me.

  Ben and Jordan joined us. “Where’s Grandma sitting?” Ben asked before he sat down.

  We ordered drinks, frothy concoctions. Mine was called Blasted at the Beach and filled a beach bucket. Ben and Jordan asked for drinks named after monkeys, Dirty Monkey and Funky Monkey. Elisabeth had Sex with an Alligator. As we traded cocktails, Harvey finally showed up. He wore shorts and a golf shirt. His face was flushed.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, dabbing his forehead.

  What else is new? I thought. I figured he had taken a business call.

  “Bad news. My mother doesn’t feel well.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” we all said, like a Greek chorus.

  Harvey sat down in the patriarchal seat, head of the table as always.

  “What happened?” Elisabeth said.

  “Nothing I can talk about at dinner.”

  “Dad, just tell us what happened,” Elisabeth insisted.

  “Her rectum fell out.”

  “What? Where is it?” Ben said.

  Elisabeth shook her head. “It’s called rectal prolapse.”

  “What causes it?” I asked.

  “Weakened muscles and ligaments, or maybe severe straining, diarrhea, or constipation.”

  “I just lost my appetite,” Ben said.

  “It’s painful,” Elisabeth told us.

  “A real pain in the ass,” Ben said.

  Harvey buttered a hunk of bread. “It seems that it doesn’t bother her as much when she sits on it.”

  I tried not to laugh. In fact, I sucked my face in. But my eyes met Jordan’s, and I lost control.

  “She needs a procedure to tack it back up, and she won’t go to a hospital here. She says hospitals in Florida are for old people.”

  “She’s ninety,” Ben said.


  “She won’t do it in Florida. She wants to go home.”

  “I’ll see how she is,” Elisabeth said as she rose.

  “Sit down. She’s fine. Albee, the resort manager, found a nurse practitioner. She’s with my mother now. She’ll fly with her to Arizona. Nice woman. She needs a better bra.”

  “Who?” Jordan asked.

  “The nurse,” Harvey said.

  “All right. Then I’ll visit after dinner,” Elisabeth said, reclaiming her seat.

  “Better you than your mother,” Harvey said.

  “What does that mean?” I said, annoyed.

  “She’s blaming the whole thing on you,” Harvey said. “She says she’s sick because you are going to divorce me and take the Bosom to the cleaners.”

  “I might. But what’s that got to do with her ass?”

  “Does your family always talk like this?” Jordan said to Ben.

  “Doesn’t yours?” Ben asked.

  “We’re just warming up,” Elisabeth said.

  Harvey called the waiter over. We ordered appetizers, mostly salads. Harvey requested the fried platter—beer-batter onion rings, jalapeño slices, and fish nuggets.

  I sipped my Blasted at the Beach. Then I switched with Elisabeth for Sex with an Alligator. There was green Midori on the bottom.

  “What are you drinking?” Harvey asked me. “It looks really good.”

  “I’m having Sex with an Alligator,” I said. “You should try it.”

  Harvey pointed to my drink, and the waiter departed.

  “We have to talk,” Harvey said, as though the family should huddle.

  We all listened up. I had no idea what Harvey had on his mind, but he was speaking in his “this is important” tone.

  “It’s about Mrs. Berger,” Harvey said. “She’s a thief.”

  “Amanda already told us. She said Mrs. Berger is in therapy,” Ben said.

  “Therapy, my mother’s ass. I have important business associates coming tomorrow.”

  Ben started laughing. “Are you saying you don’t want her at the wedding, Dad?”

  “Why should the mother of the groom be at the wedding?” Elisabeth asked sarcastically.

  “No. What I am saying is she has to be watched.”

  “Well, I’m not watching her,” Elisabeth said. “It’s my sister’s wedding. I plan to dance all night.”

  Ben shook his head at Harvey as if to say “Not a good idea, Dad.”

  “Harvey, are you deranged?” I asked.

  “I’ve hired two security guards. They are going to shadow Mrs. Berger. Watch her every move.”

  “Wow, Dad,” Elisabeth said. “You better hope Amanda doesn’t get wind of this. I’m pretty sure she feels as strongly about no security guards as she does about no potato latkes.”

  I was sure he was losing his mind. “Harvey, I think you’re getting totally carried away.”

  “No, the jewelry is what will be carried away,” he said, working himself up into a fevered pitch.

  I insisted that he not hire the guards, and then I left it alone. One of the positive things about being separated from my husband was that if he wanted to start a nuclear war with Jake and Amanda, the scorched earth was all his.

  We savored our appetizers. Everyone tasted something from Harvey’s fried suicide platter.

  Harvey moaned happily as he polished off the fried appetizers and suggested another order.

  “Dad,” Elisabeth said, “are you trying to kill yourself?”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for the table.”

  After dinner, Ben and Jordan headed out for the night. Harvey and Elisabeth went to check in on Grandma. I said good night and stopped in the ladies’ room on my way through the lobby. I was the only one there. As I washed my hands, I stared at myself in the mirror. I thought about Amanda. Tomorrow, her marriage would begin just as mine stumbled to the end. I prayed. I prayed that if for any reason her marriage failed, she would at least be happy for the first thirty-three years.

  I wiped the sentimental tears and the smudged mascara from under my eyes. I walked out the door. The corridor was silent. The restaurant had closed for the evening. I turned toward the lobby and went to my room.

  I called Jon and told him that Florence wouldn’t be at the wedding because her rectum had fallen out of her ass. I said Harvey was hiring US Marshals to tail Mrs. Berger at the wedding.

  “I miss you,” he said.

  “I miss you.”

  “My brother and his family are coming tomorrow to say good-bye. We’re having lunch at Abrielle.”

  “Abrielle. So good. Please have the fettuccine with basil and brie for me.”

  “Could be my last cooked food,” he said.

  “And your last fork for a whole year.”

  “They have forks in Japan. But if I use one, everyone will know I’m not Japanese.”

  “I’m glad you will be with your family tomorrow. They’ll miss you. I’ll miss you. I already miss you.”

  “You’ll be visiting,” he said. “We’ll take a weekend trip to Kyoto to see the Buddhist temples, the wooden houses, and the gardens. There are a lot of geishas in Kyoto.”

  “Which is why you better not go there before I arrive.”

  “No geishas? Well, then, you better be really nice to me when you get there.”

  “Oh, I will be,” I said.

  As soon as I arrived, I was going to give Jon a present. I had read that gift giving was an important custom in Japan.

  Chapter 26

  When I awoke the next morning, the sun was shining. Amanda would have sunshine on the day of her wedding. Now there was something a mere human couldn’t plan. I could hear Amanda in my head: “And this is important—I want a sunny day. Not too hot, about seventy-five degrees. No humidity. Humidity is absolutely out. After all, it’s my day.”

  I looked at the clock. I had two hours until the hair stylist was scheduled to arrive. I went for a facial. Afterward, in the shower in my room, I thought about some of the things Amanda had taken my advice about.

  I went down the hall to Elisabeth’s room. Just like me, she was wearing a hotel robe. As we pressed the button to take the birdcage elevator to the bridal suite, she said, “I really, really don’t want a stranger doing my hair for this wedding.”

  “Stop complaining. You don’t know Jessica either.”

  “Who’s Jessica?”

  “Amanda’s stylist from Seattle. She wanted us to fly her in and pay for her lodging.”

  “Well, at least then we would be hiring someone Amanda trusted.”

  “Does money mean nothing to you?”

  “Mom, you cheap out at the weirdest times.”

  “Well, I told Amanda to ask you what you thought.”

  “Are you kidding? I stopped listening five months ago.”

  “Oh, please, it will be great. All of us together. We’ll remember it forever.”

  “Oh, no question, Mom,” she said glumly.

  When Amanda opened her door, Elisabeth hugged her and said, “What fun! I’m so excited about this.”

  I was relieved that she did not complain to her sister. They hadn’t had one argument since arriving—all because Elisabeth bit her tongue so hard and so often that I was sure it was now black and blue.

  “Can I go first?” Elisabeth said.

  “Mom will go first,” Amanda said, bestowing an honor. “Age before beauty.”

  “Thanks a lot, Amanda.”

  “You know what I mean, Mom.”

  “Yes, you mean age before beauty.”

  The stylist arrived. Her name was Georgia. She was about fifty wasted years old.

  Amanda pulled me into a corner. “Do you see what she looks like?”

  “The resort recommended her. Albee’s staff would never steer us wrong. I’ll go first, as you suggested, and if it’s a disaster, then you will have to do your own hair.”

  “On my wedding day? You expect me to do my own hair on my wedding day?”


  I didn’t know what to say.

  Georgia was unpacking combs and brushes. She searched for a wall socket for her blow dryer. I pointed to one under the desk.

  “I love to do weddings.”

  I poked Amanda as though to say “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

  “And I do them so infrequently,” she said, finishing her thought.

  Amanda raised her eyebrows at me, as though to say “See?”

  Georgia continued. “Heather was ill and couldn’t come today. She asked Dorine to stand in. But Dorine was at a hair show, so she called me. Now, do any of you prefer rollers? I have big rollers and small rollers.”

  I hadn’t seen a roller since before Vidal Sassoon was born.

  “Mom, come here.” Amanda was standing at the door.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Elisabeth and the stylist.

  “This isn’t going to work. You stall, and I’ll phone salons until I can find someone else.”

  “How do you want me to stall her?”

  “Mom, I can’t do everything.”

  I returned to the room. “Anyone hungry? How about you, Georgia?”

  “Well, if you’re ordering . . .”

  I rang room service for bagels with cream cheese and a pot of coffee. Georgia said she thought she should start on my hair, but I insisted I needed to wait for a bite.

  Amanda reappeared, shaking her head.

  “We better begin,” I said. “Who knows how long room service could take?”

  I had already shampooed my hair in my own room. Georgia wet it in the lavatory sink. I sat at the desk in front of an oval mirror, turning the chair so I could face my daughters instead of the mirror. She started working.

  Elisabeth went to the door to let in the bagels. She and Amanda each took a bagel and coffee and went into the second room in the suite.

  About fifteen minutes later, Amanda returned for more coffee. “Stop,” she said. “Don’t tease it anymore.”

  I swiveled to check the mirror. My helmet of hair belonged on an astronaut’s head. I was aghast. But I didn’t want to upset Amanda any further.

  “What do you think?” Georgia asked me.

  “Thank you so much. I haven’t looked this way since I was a debutante in Dallas.”

  “Were you?” Georgia said wistfully.