“I’ll take my chances, Mama. Anyway, I need to lie down.”
“I thought you was already in the bed.”
“I was, but I got up to make myself some tea,” I lied. I was tired of talking to her about all of this.
“Hold it a minute! Don’t go yet! For somebody who’s supposed to be sick with a cold I ain’t heard you cough once or so much as sniffle, so a few more minutes on the phone with your mama ain’t gon’ make you no sicker. So just chill for a minute, sista girl.”
“What did you just say, Mama?”
“You heard me right! Sheila’s kids keep me up on the hippest of everything. They’re trying to show me how to fax you my e-mail addresses and I’m dying to Google a text message to you from MySpace. You’ll soon be hearing from me online, girlfriend.”
I laugh. “I’ll look forward to getting an e-mail from you, Mama.”
“What you doing for the holiday?”
“What holiday?”
“It’s Memorial Day weekend, Savannah.”
“Oh. I forgot. I don’t know. Nothing. It’s just another day to me.”
“That’s a shame. Holidays used to mean something, and if nothing else it was when families got together. But times do change. Anyway, I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
I hang up and roll out of bed. I walk like I’m just learning how and head toward the bathroom. I wash my face in cold water to wake up. Brush my teeth. Moisturize. For some reason, I find myself opening my workout drawer, which sounds like it could use some WD-40. I look down at a gray top and shorts but then change my mind and pick up a lavender-and-white outfit. The tags are still dangling from it. Maybe a walk wouldn’t kill me. Maybe it might help me perk up. Maybe it might help me lose ten ounces. I put on my watch that doubles as a heart-rate monitor and check to see how alive I am: seventy beats per minute. I pull on ankle socks and tie my sneakers, then head for the kitchen. I eat a new banana, make a pot of strong coffee and walk back to my bedroom, where I slide under the covers and wait for it to drip.
Mama’s right of course. But aren’t they always?
A few days later, Thora stands in the doorway of my office. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m doing fine,” I say.
“You couldn’t possibly be. I’ve been where you are and it drains you of your best everything. Believe me. I’m on husband number three.”
“It’s not a fairy-tale ending, that’s for sure.”
“Is the house getting bigger yet?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Hearing things?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Longing for him at night?”
“Sad to say, but I do.”
“This is stage one. You’ll get over it. So, how long before it’s done?”
“First of July. It looks like it’s not going to be as complicated as I thought.”
“Give him whatever he wants and then move on with your life. I’m not kidding.”
“All he wants is whatever he’s entitled to.”
“What about his business?”
“He just barely pays his employees, to be honest.”
“He’ll want something. I’m warning you. Whatever happens, don’t let it turn into a war.”
“I won’t. Did you dye your hair, Thora?”
“I did. Good eye. It’s a darker red. My colorist mixed three shades. I’m loving it.”
“It looks good on you.”
“Thanks. So, when you’re a free woman you’re going to need to decompress, so first let me say that even though it’s a little soon to think about starting over and dating again, believe me, you’ll be back on the open market in no time, and Bert has a great guy he wants you to meet. His name is Jasper. They went to medical school together at Columbia. He’s African American, just for the record. A super guy and a divorce also. I’ll tell you more about him when the dust settles. But anyway, this is just to let you know that there is life after marriage death.”
“Tell Bert thanks for looking out. But right now, I can’t even imagine myself dating, Thora. I haven’t been on a date in over eleven years. I haven’t kissed anybody or had sex with anybody except Isaac for the same amount of time. Anyway, let me get used to the idea of being single and then we’ll talk about a date.”
“No worries. But I’m also letting you know right now that Bert and I have a lovely two-bedroom flat in Paris. Actually, it’s a duplex. In Montparnasse. You’re welcome to it.”
“That’s really quite sweet of you to offer, Thora. I love Paris. But I loved it even more when I was young and hot and single.”
“Well, you’re still young and hot and soon-to-be single again. So keep it in mind.”
Four-Way
“We need to get together,” Robin says to Bernadine and Savannah. They’re on a three-way call.
“For what?” Bernadine asks.
“That’s a stupid question,” Savannah says.
“It is, but I’ll answer it anyway. I miss seeing you guys face-to-face and the four of us haven’t done anything together since Marvin’s funeral, and that wasn’t exactly a social occasion.”
“Has anybody talked to Gloria lately?” Savannah asks.
“I have. Sparrow and I stopped by when her grandkids were there. That little one can’t talk but she can sure put a puzzle together. I’m talking about a lot of pieces. They cracked us up. Telling jokes with no punch line. Singing songs they didn’t know all the words to. And talk about dance! That little Blaze can bust a move. What was really nice was seeing Gloria laughing. She may have aged ten years in ten days, but she sure came back to life with them around. I guess kids don’t give you enough time and space to feel sorry for yourself.”
“It’s called grieving, Robin,” Savannah says. “There’s a big difference.”
“Well, how long does it last? It’s been six months.”
“There’s no time limit. It’s different for everybody,” Bernadine says.
“I think I’m grieving,” Savannah says, surprising herself.
“I think you’re just lonely,” Robin says.
“I’ve been grieving for about six years,” Bernadine says.
“Now you’re the one who’s been feeling sorry for herself,” Robin says.
“I have not! I was married to somebody who impersonated being my husband. You have no idea what that feels like.”
“You sound like a broken record, Bernie,” Robin says.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Savannah says. “I’m waiting for the day we have a conversation and he doesn’t come up.”
“When was the last time you guys had a man steal from you and ruin your credit?”
“Never,” Robin says.
“But how long can you stay angry?” Savannah asks.
“It’s like a termite has been living inside you for the past six years robbing you of all your joy,” Robin says.
“Well, Zoloft was supposed to be my pest control.”
“Well, it’s obviously not working,” Savannah says. “I don’t think those things were meant to solve your problems.”
“They’ve helped me feel better so I can deal with my problems,” Bernadine says.
“And I repeat. They’re not working.”
“So many people at my job are on antidepressants it’s not even funny,” Robin says. “I don’t get it. They’re still not happy.”
“They don’t make you happy,” Bernadine says.
“Anyway, I just think there’s stuff that happens to us that throws us off center and we have to figure out how to get through it the best way we can,” Savannah says.
“Oh hell, are you ready to hear this speech, Bernie?”
“Shut up, Robin. It’s true. We get divorced, we get conned, someone we love dies, or we can’t find anybody to love us or somebody breaks our heart and we realize this fairy tale ain’t fair. So we suffer. We feel like shit and we want it to hurry up and be over, but there are no shortcuts. I think a lot o
f folks take this stuff hoping it’s a panacea, only to find out it’s not.”
“Well, they’ve helped me. Otherwise, I might not have been able to get out of bed in the morning.”
“But you’re still harping on the ordeal like it happened last week,” Robin says. “I never liked him anyway.”
“Me either,” Savannah says. “I thought he was pompous and phony and I never trusted his ass.”
“Since we’re finally coming out with it,” Robin says, “how could you fall for this guy in like breakneck speed when you didn’t know shit about him?”
“Because after my marriage fell apart I felt like an empty parking space, and James just pulled into it. Anyway, fuck you guys, okay? I’m doing the best I can.”
“No, you’re not. We want you to do better so you feel better,” Savannah says. “We’re on your side, girl. You know that, don’t you?”
Silence.
“Bernie.” Savannah sighs.
“What?”
“We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or piss you off.”
“Yes you did. But it’s okay. Points well taken. After all, what are friends for?” Bernadine says this with no sarcasm in her voice. “So. On a lighter note. Robin, how is Ms. Sparrow doing these days?”
“Getting on my last nerve. Ever since they started this texting thing on cell phones—I made a big mistake and got her one so she wouldn’t be able to come up with excuses about her whereabouts—I betcha these kids are gonna have carpal tunnel or arthritis in their thumbs by the time they’re old enough to drink.”
“When does she get her license?” Savannah asks.
“Next month—God willing. It took three tries for the written. I just pray the driving test is a one-shotter.”
“What’s she gonna drive?” Bernadine asks.
“She wants that ugly Prius. And since I’m getting my bonus next month, I think I can swing it.”
“I can’t believe a sixteen-year-old wants a Prius,” Bernadine says.
“She doesn’t want to contribute more pollutants to the ozone. Okay, enough about my daughter! The reason I called you guys was to see if we could figure out something we could do together since Gloria’s DVD guys have been MIA.”
“Hey, wait a minute! We forgot all about Gloria!” Savannah says.
“But I can only do a three-way.”
“Well, how about we try to narrow down the options and then one of us calls her. She probably won’t care or won’t want to come anyway,” Bernadine says.
“If we have to drag her out of the house, she’s coming,” Savannah says. “Let’s hear some of your bright ideas, Robin.”
“We could drive up to Sedona and have dinner and turn around and come back.”
“It’s beautiful but boring. After you look at those red mountains, there’s nothing to do,” Savannah says. “When are we talking about anyway?”
“I don’t know. Let’s decide where we want to go first and then find out everybody’s schedule.”
“Mine’s wide open,” Bernadine says. “I haven’t been to Sedona in years, which is shameful.”
“Bernie, now that Sweet Tooth is closed, what is it you do all day?” Savannah asks.
“Paperwork,” she says.
“How long before you finish?” Robin asks.
“However long it takes. Wait. In all honesty, I surf the Internet looking for everything I can on successful catering companies. The most prestigious culinary programs. I read about top chefs all over the world, and the best restaurants, including their menus, to see what makes them great. And most recently, I’m learning how to stage a progressive dinner party. This is some of what I do all day.”
“Right on, Bernie,” Robin says.
“What’s a progressive dinner party?” Savannah asks.
“I knew you were going to ask. It’s a party where each course is eaten at a different person’s home.”
“What’s the point?” Robin asks.
Bernie lets out a long sigh. “It’s a very cool way of spending time with friends and meeting new people.”
“Then let’s have one of those!” Robin says.
“Yeah, since we’re trying to come up with something interesting to do,” Savannah says.
“I need a lot more time to plan it in order to do it right. And before you ask, Savannah, it’s not like a frigging potluck, okay? I’d put a different spin on it. Come up with a kick-ass menu, send invitations to you guys, who in turn would invite a friend or two—folks the rest of us don’t know: in our case, a few single friends wouldn’t hurt. Anyway, I don’t have it all figured out, so let’s talk more about it another time.”
“Sounds like it could be hecka fun,” Robin says.
“Sure does. I’m game,” Savannah says.
“Okay,” Robin says. “This may sound like a stupid question, but when was the last time anybody went to the Grand Canyon?”
“I am not going to anybody’s Grand Canyon,” Savannah says. “I’ve been a million times with Paul Bunyan. I could probably give tours.”
“I always got carsick,” Bernadine says. “Think of something else.”
“How about going to a casino?” Robin asks.
“And get lung cancer?” This is Savannah.
“I agree. You can’t breathe in those places let alone talk,” Bernadine says.
“Who said anything about talking?” Robin asks. “Oh, never mind. How about a spa?”
“That would be kind of insulting to Gloria,” Savannah says.
“She hasn’t even found a place yet,” Robin says.
“Look, Robin, why can’t we just go to a cool restaurant and have a good meal?” Bernadine asks.
“You mean like dinner?”
“Yeah, and we could use like a knife and fork, too,” Savannah says.
“You go straight to hell.”
The three of them laugh.
“We need to get Gloria in on this conversation. It doesn’t feel right excluding her,” Bernadine says.
“I just thought of something!” Savannah says. “I can call her on my cell and put her on speaker.”
And she does. There’s no answer.
“She’s probably asleep,” Bernadine says. “Call her back in a few minutes.”
“I will. Oh, by the way, girls, the station won an award for best news program and I got one for the show I did on teen pregnancy.” Savannah continues to dial Gloria’s number over and over, hoping it’ll get on her nerves and she’ll pick up.
“You got a what?” Bernie asks.
“An award.”
“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Bernie asks.
“I didn’t think you guys would be interested in coming to the dinner. They’re pretty boring.”
“Let us be the judge of that,” Robin says. “I already told you how good I thought the program was.”
“I Tivo’d it,” Bernadine says. “I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t watched it yet. But I will!”
“What in the world are you huzzies talking about?” Gloria asks. “And why are you all calling me so late?”
“It’s only ten o’clock, so wake your old ass up,” Savannah says.
“Savannah got an award for the show she did about the rise in teenage pregnancy in Arizona and didn’t tell any-damn-body,” Bernadine says.
“Oh, I saw it. And so did everybody at Oasis. It was on target and right on time. But I told you that, Savannah. I need to splash some cold water on my face. I’ll be right back.”
“And be quick about it!” Savannah yells, loud enough for her to be heard in another room.
“Stop being so bossy,” Bernadine says. “And the next time you get honored for anything be considerate and give your friends a heads-up.”
“I will. It’s not like I get them all the time.”
“Speaking of being awarded and not to change the subject but I’m changing the subject: How long before your divorce is final?” Bernadine asks. “Or are you keeping that a secret, too?”
<
br /> “July first.”
“And how do you know the exact date?” Robin asks.
“Because I agreed to give him an extra couple of months so he’d have time to get health insurance coverage.” Of course she was lying about this. She also didn’t feel like explaining how the divorce process works in Arizona.
“Well, that was awful nice of you,” Bernadine says.
“I’m just glad you guys aren’t acting like they did in War of the Roses,” Robin says. “Want us to come to court with you?”
“It’s not fun,” Bernadine says. “I’ll be there for you.”
“Thanks, you guys, but it’s not going down like that. We’ve signed the papers, agreed to the terms, so we don’t even have to be there.”
“Get the hell outta here,” Bernie says. “Times have sure changed.”
“What are you gonna do about your house?” Robin asks.
“Live in it.”
“Isn’t it like creepy being in there all by yourself?” she asks.
“Why would it be creepy?”
“You’re up there in those dark hills with wild animals everywhere.”
“I live up here in these same hills and the only time I’ve ever been afraid was right after . . . never mind. Anyway, I’ve never been bitten or eaten by any wild animals, Robin.”
“Wait a second. Savannah, does it sound like Bernie is slurring?”
“I was just thinking the same thing. Are you over there hitting the bottle?”
“No! And I’m not slurring. I’m tired.”
“From doing what?” Savannah asks.
“I’ve been running around all day.”
“Well, join the rest of the real world,” Savannah says. “You’re on something. What is it?”
“I’m not on anything.”
“We can hear it in your voice. I don’t know who you think you’re fooling.”
Getting to Happy Page 14