by Livia Ellis
“Henna.” Her aunt took her hand and squeezed it. “You are my niece and I love you. I think it's possible Eduardo is the best thing that's happened to you in years. He's a lovely man. Kind, friendly, charming, handsome as the devil, and he loves his family. He also knows how to live. I say run with it.”
“I actually have to agree,” her mother said. “Maybe I was a bit quick to find fault with how you met him, but the reality is, he's a lovely man. Go for it.”
“I would, but there may be a problem. Or two. Possibly more.” She told them about Gloria, Fatima, the machete, and Eduardo's dubious taste in women. The three of them stood together in their desire to avoid both confrontation and trouble on the eve of Eden's wedding. Her mother and aunt finding out about Eduardo made life easier, rather than more complicated as she originally thought such a revelation would.
After dinner, drinks, and too much dessert, she made her way to the ladies room. She should have known better than to go alone. She should have taken Midge or her mother, but they were engrossed in conversation with Inez. Besides, she was a grown woman. She didn't need her mother to take her to the potty anymore.
The ladies room, with its dark wood, white marble, and pale yellow walls, neither felt nor looked like a trap. It wasn't until she was inside and Fatima stood between her and the door that she knew there was only one way out.
“Do you know we are getting married?” Fatima said. “Eduardo and I.”
“Are you?” she said lightly. “Congratulations. When is the big day?” Henna had no doubt in her mind that Fatima was deluded. Although she'd known him only a brief time, she knew he was an honorable man. He'd told her Fatima was aware of the fact they were going no further as a couple and Henna believed him.
“We have not exactly set a date,” Fatima confessed. “But this was decided two months ago. Two months ago.”
“How about you and I just cut to the chase,” she said. “You want to tell me to stay away from your man.”
“Stay away from my man.” Fatima growled as her pretty face turned sharp. “I don't know who you think you are, but I do know that Eduardo is confused and vulnerable. Romeo getting married reminded him he is no longer as young as he used to be. Whatever he is going through now is not being helped by you. He needs me. He is my man.”
“He's not your man, honey,” she said, mimicking her Aunt Midge. “Based on the fact he's spent the past two nights with me I am positive he's not your man.”
“He lied to me. He told me he was in his room alone. He doesn't want anybody to know that the two of you are lovers.”
“Or here's a thought. We're being discreet.”
Hands on hips, Fatima shoved her boobs in Henna’s face. “Or he doesn't want anyone to know.”
“That must be it,” she said calmly, pleased for the first time in two days she wasn't wholly driven by passion. “We are at my sister's party, and I am sure you do not want to make a scene in front of all of these people.”
“Stay away from him!” Fatima exhaled.
“Or what? You're going to huff and puff and blow my house down? You can't do anything to me. I'm not afraid of you, and the truth is, if you really start pissing me off, I imagine all I have to do is tell Eduardo and he'll deal with you directly. He's really very gentlemanly, but I suspect you do not want to make him angry.” The look on Fatima's face told her she was right. “I think you know perfectly well what Eduardo wants, and the truth is, you know you can't give it to him.”
“And what would that be?” Fatima asked. “Because you don't have half of what I have.” She gestured to her body with a flick of her hands and her wrists.
“How about a working uterus?” Why was she letting herself get drawn in? Why? “I know what he really wants, and it isn't a pair of giant fake boobs. He wants children.”
“Ridiculous,” Fatima scoffed. “Babies! Do you know how long it took me to talk him out of that nonsense? My children are grown. His children are grown. He will come to his senses soon enough. You stay away from him and do not give him any ideas. Just so you know, these are real!”
The door to one of the stalls flew open. “What do you mean my father wants children?” Gloria shouted.
Henna shrieked and her hand slammed against her chest. Gloria moved like a stiletto-shod ninja across to the bathroom. Accusing and shifty eyes darted from one woman to the other. “My father has two children. He doesn't need any more children.”
“You didn't know this?” Fatima turned to Gloria. “Your father, he wants babies. He wants a whole new family. Babies, babies, babies. It's all he talks about.”
“What do you mean my father wants babies?” Gloria stood with hands on hips and hair swishing. “He's too old to have children.”
“Actually,” Henna said. “He's not. Professionally speaking, he's actually at what many consider to be the optimal age for a man to have children—”
“Did I ask you?” Gloria shouted at her. She turned to Fatima. “What do you know about this?”
Fatima smiled like a cat. “Since he returned from Mexico, all he could talk about was starting his life again. Getting married. Another family. Having babies. Well, while you were off in New York and Romeo was in Italy, I was in Colombia trying to convince your father that he didn't want more children. Then she comes along with her bony ass and her skinny hips and all of a sudden he tells me we're really finished and he wants babies.”
Gloria raised her palms up. “Just...” She looked to Henna. “Is this true? Does my father really want to have more children? With you? You two aren't just fucking? Are you actually getting serious about each other? Oh, my god. Is that was he was talking about when he told me about the two of you today? You hardly know him, and you two are talking kids? What the hell!” The anger had been replaced by confusion. Possibly more dangerous than rage. She couldn't tell with Gloria. It was time to get out of there.
“I'm... You know what? This is my sister's hen party. I would actually rather talk to sane people and not you two crazy lunatics.”
She fled from the bathroom and immediately went to her mother, Aunt Midge, and Inez. “Remind me never to go to the bathroom alone again.” Placing the women between her, Gloria, and Fatima seemed like the smartest move.
“What's the matter?” Inez asked.
“Fatima is going to stick a knife in me.” Probably best not to mention Gloria to her grandmother.
“Fatima is a lunatic,” Inez said. “Sometime, when we have a moment and a pitcher of gimlets to share, I'll tell you all about Fatima and Don Juan Esperanza.”
“I need to hear that one,” Midge said.
“I still need to pee,” she said.
“Henna!” her mother scolded. “Really. Try to at least pretend you're a lady.”
“What? I didn't get a chance to pee. Fatima practically jumped me in the bathroom. I didn't get a chance to go.”
“Poor girl!” Inez laughed. “I never understood why Pilar tolerated her. I suppose that is friendship.”
Henna stood up. “I'm going to my room. Hopefully I'll be safe there. Just watch my back. If you see her stalking me, call security.”
She was nearly free of the bar, when Gloria stopped her. “Henna, I'm sorry.” Henna sort of heard Gloria's words, but all she could truly concentrate on was the large brilliant blue cocktail in her hand. “I didn't mean to jump at you like that...”
Fatima walked up behind Gloria and either tripped on accident or purpose. Only Fatima would ever really know. Either way, Fatima gave Gloria enough of a shove to jerk her arm. Whether the force of the shove was enough to send the contents of Gloria's glass flying was something only Gloria knew. What Henna knew, was that Gloria's cocktail covered her dress like a Pollack painting. Just like she knew it would the moment she saw the drink in Gloria's hand.
She looked down at herself then up at Gloria and Fatima. “You did that on purpose.” She didn't speak to either of them in particular.
“It was an accident,” Gloria grabbed
a handful of cocktail napkins.
Henna took the napkins and began mopping up her dress. “I... You know what? It's fine. It doesn't matter. Please just leave me alone. If you are going to start attacking me because I spend time with your father, you win. I'm fond of him, but not enough to have drinks thrown on me or worse.”
“I said it was an accident,” Gloria said. “I don't care that you and my father are sleeping together.”
“You know about this? Does everybody know?”
“Everybody knows,” Gloria said.
Inez, Henna’s mother, and Aunt Midge came up to them.
“What does everybody know?” Inez asked. “Oh, dear. If you get it to soak, it'll come out. I know the best drycleaner on the island. What does everybody know?”
“Eduardo and this one are fucking,” Fatima said, giving Henna a nod. “Everybody knows.”
“You classless twit,” Inez snipped at Fatima. “Do you have any sense of decorum?”
Before Gloria or Fatima had the chance to say another word, she fled. Out of the bar, across the lobby, and to the elevators.
“Henna!”
There was no need to look to know Midge followed. They stepped into the elevator together. A couple her parents’ age tried to join them.
“Take the next one,” Midge told them. “This one is full.”
The couple looked offended but stepped back all the same.
The doors closed, allowing for privacy. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” Midge asked.
“Gloria is mean to me,” Henna sniffled and sobbed into her hands. “And she's crazy.” She looked up from her hands to her aunt. “She is. She's absolutely crazy.”
Midge put an arm around her shoulders. Not an easy feat for the tiny woman who stood half of a head shorter than Henna. “I saw what happened. It did look like an accident. But then, sometimes an accident isn't really an accident. What to do is the question.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Do you remember Stephanie Drinkhall?”
Henna snorted. “Like I could ever forget that little bitch.”
“What did your mother tell you to do when she was hassling you?”
“She told me to try to make friends with her.”
“What happened?”
“She stole my boyfriend, and I sat in Fraschelli's Diner with Uncle Lou eating cheesecake when I was supposed to be at homecoming. Uncle Lou was the best.”
“He was the best.”
The elevator opened at her floor. Behind her door, the dress was assessed for damage. “What the hell was she drinking? Blue dye?”
“Get it off,” Midge said. “Maybe if we get it to soak, we can save it.”
Henna slipped into the bathroom and out of her dress. Midge handed her a towel after turning on the faucet in the bathtub. “Have you taken to not wearing underpants?”
“Don't ask.” The dress was dropped into the tub.
“I was young and in love once. I don't need details. Tell me you have another dress.”
“I have a red and a black.”
“Which one makes you look like more of a floosy?”
“The red.”
“Get it on.”
“I think I'm done for the night.”
Midge put a hand to her ear. “Did you hear that?”
She shook her head. “I didn't hear anything.”
“I did. It was your grandmother Elena rolling over in her grave. You call yourself a Hirsch woman. Act like one. You get in that dress and you show both of those women you aren't afraid of either of them.”
“Really? Grandma Elena rolling over in her grave.”
“She wouldn't have let some chit push her around and neither will you. Now.” Midge gave her a firm swat on the butt. “Get that red dress on.”
“You're a very bad woman.”
“Never forget you get it from me.”
The red dress was the color of lipstick and the armor of a femme fatale. “Are you sure about this?” she asked Midge. The two stood side by side in front of the mirror. “I don't want to stir the pot.”
“Chicken.”
“I'm not a chicken.”
“Chicken. Little fluffy chicken that would rather stay in her safe little shell than crack it open and see what's out in the world.” Midge handed her the silver shoes they'd picked out.
She snatched the shoes from her aunt. “I am not a chicken.” The shoes gave her another three inches and would probably bring her eye level with Gloria, assuming she'd taken off her shoes. It wasn't much, but it would do.
“You are not a chicken. You're a Hirsch. Nobody pushes you around.”
In the elevator, Henna looked down at Midge. “Whatever happened to Stephanie Drinkhall?”
“She's a grandmother and works as a cashier at the grocery store.”
“She's a grandmother? She's my age.”
“What can I tell you? When you left for college, she had her first kid. Her daughter had a baby not that long ago.”
“Wow,” she said. “You know, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing I had braces, bad skin, and unmanageable hair when I was in high school. At least I had a lot of time to spend studying.”
“You're a swan now honey.”
“Am I?” She looked down at her aunt as they stood just outside the bar.
“You're a great beauty. Now. Tits up and ass out.” Midge gave her a small shove, which sent her on her way. Of course, the first person she encountered was Gloria.
She raised a hand before Gloria could get a word out. “Not another word from you. Not one. And if my dress is ruined, you're buying me a new one.”
Gloria smiled a maliciously contrived smirk. “Considering my father paid for that one—”
“Don't even go there,” Henna said. “Get it through your head now. For your sake. My relationship with Eduardo has nothing to do with you. Not one thing. If you ruined my dress, you're going to replace it.”
“It was an accident,” Gloria said.
“I'm sure it was. And like with all accidents, if you caused it, you need to fix it. Considering that dress cost as much as a car, use that as your base comparison. If you'd rear-ended me, you'd have to pay for that, too. No matter who paid for the car. The dress is going to the cleaners tomorrow. If it doesn't come back pristine, I have the receipt upstairs.”
Gloria stood her ground with a hand on her hip. “I'm not paying for a dress that my father bought.”
“Yes, you will. Because you need to start acting like an adult. That would be the adult thing to do.” A thought took seed then bloomed like a firecracker. She'd known a few rich girls in her life. They all had the same bitch and moan. “Or are you really going to tell your father to pay for it for you? Haven't you reached an age when you're getting a bit old for that?”
The sharp intake of breath and the flash in the eyes told her she'd hit pay dirt. Eduardo might have adored his children, but chances were he'd had more than one conversation with his daughter about her credit card bill.
And Gloria might have been taller than her, but Henna stared her down. “You'll either get the bill for the dry-cleaning or the dress. If you need your daddy to pay for it, that's between the two of you.”
She walked away with her head high as a thousand generations of Hirsch women who had come before her silently cheered her on in her head.
****
Henna sat up in bed, with her book reader in her hands, and a dilemma in her heart. Did she strangle Eduardo for telling everyone they were lovers, or did she push him off the balcony and claim it was an accident? Decisions, decisions.
The door opened and Eduardo stumbled in, somehow managing to land face down on the bed.
“You're so beautiful,” he told her with a smile.
“You're drunk.” She set her book reader on the nightstand. “And you smell like booze and cigarette smoke. Have you been smoking?”
“Will you be angry with me if I've been smoking?”
“Yes.
”
“Then no.” A moment later, he started to laugh. “Okay. Maybe I've been smoking. But I didn't inhale.”
“Unbelievable.” She slid out of bed and to her feet. “I may have inadvertently told Gloria that you wanted children.”
“I know,” he said. “She sent me a text. I also know about your dress. It truly was an accident. I believe her. I told her I'd buy you a new one. She insists on replacing it herself. Very mature of her. I'm pleased. She's growing up. You can't imagine what a pain in the ass she can be sometimes.”
“Oh, I probably can.” She slipped off one of his shoes then the other. “You're not angry she knows about you and your baby fetish?”
“No,” he said. “You're my destiny. In fact...” He leaned up and looked at her as she pulled off his socks. “I'm feeling lucky tonight. You want to hop on and make a baby?”
“Unbelievable. Are you even capable of performing right now?” She stood over him and watched him grab his cock through his trousers.
“I am good to go. But you need to do all of the work. I'm just going to lay here and let you have me.”
“You realize that making a baby has more to do with you feeling lucky?”
“Not really,” he said. “So far, I'm two for two. If I were a bull, my stud fee would be enormous. I have very lucky sperm.”
She unfastened his trousers then pulled them down his legs. “I'm on birth control.”
“Why are we using condoms? Why?”
She tossed his trousers to the side. “Because we are responsible adults who haven't had a discussion about our previous sexual relationships and whether or not we're going to be monogamous.”
“You suck the fun out of spontaneous, unprotected, baby-making sex.”
“Good,” she said. She straddled him to unbutton his shirt.
“I have had sex with three women. You included. I have no diseases.” He sat up just enough to let her get his shirt off of him.
She tossed his shirt to the side. “You can't be sure of that.” The idea of no longer having to worry about condoms appealed to her.
“I can. I went to the doctor to find out whether or not I was healthy. I am. I only want to be with you. Except, of course, for that thing you promised me for my birthday. Then we can use all the condoms you want to use. Happy?”