Sparrow’s looking through the peephole. “It’s the mailperson.” She opens the door, signs something, runs up two steps at a time and hands me a manila envelope.
There’s no name on it, just a return address. I open it and out fall four tickets to the dance. There’s a note card from Lucille paper-clipped to them:
Hello Robin! It’s me, Lucille! I hope you’re faring well. I’ve decided to retire although I now do floral arrangements. I enjoy it. I should also let you know I’m dating! Yes, me! My high school sweetheart! Because of the damage Katrina has caused, all of the proceeds from this event will go to the victims. It’s being announced on the black radio station. Since you’ve always been so nice to me over the years, and so supportive of our causes, I thought I’d treat you to these four tickets with the hope that you’ll bring your funny girlfriends—or anyone else you might like. Let me know if you need additional tickets. They’ve increased the price to one hundred dollars. Hope to see you in a few weeks. Very best, Lucille.
I almost can’t believe it. This was so nice of her. And to think I used to dog her. I’m sorry, Lucille. I can’t wait to tell the girls. I wonder if Michael might want to go?
When the phone rings, I almost knock Sparrow over to get it. “Hello,” I say calmly.
“And how are you this afternoon?”
“I’m fine, Michael. And you?”
“Are you still in the closet?”
“Nope. We finally finished.”
“I’ve got quite a few boxes I was going to drop off. I can pick yours up, too, if you want.”
“That would be great. This whole thing is just so draining and nothing has even happened to us.”
“Well, I’ve got a few friends who’ve got relatives down there. They need our prayers and all the support they can get.”
“This feels a lot like nine-eleven. Doesn’t it?”
“It does. Which brings me to the other reason I called. If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand. But I could sure use a short break.”
“Go where, Michael?”
“I don’t want to bore you, but about a year ago, I did a favor for a college buddy. He inherited a share of a vineyard in Napa. I helped him with the corporate tax restructuring. The long and short of it, things worked out, and to show his gratitude he’s given me a nice long weekend at a resort over there. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
“Napa, huh? I’ve never been to that part of California. I need to check my schedule. Hold on a second. Sparrow, am I free this weekend?”
“I believe you are!” she yells from upstairs. “But I’m not.”
“I think I could squeeze you in.”
“I hoped you would.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Start packing,” he says. “My travel agent’s just waiting for me to give her the go-ahead. What about Sparrow? Do you need to make some kind of arrangements for her?”
“She’s sixteen. She’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve got friends who’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Good. Tell her I said hello. And I hope to hear her play that violin one of these days—if I’m still around.”
“No comment, Michael. I’m hanging up now. E-mail me the particulars, dude.”
I run up the stairs three at a time. “Sparrow! Michael’s invited me to go to the wine country in California this weekend. What’re your plans?”
She almost runs into me. “Forget about my plans. Just go, Mom, please.”
“I need to make sure you’re covered.”
“At first, a few of the group members wanted to come over to practice a really cool song, but we’re all so bummed out by Katrina, we volunteered to make calls to help raise money instead. Is it okay if they come over, Mom? You know we’re all responsible.”
I think about this for a few minutes.
“I’ll call you if there’s an emergency. Please?”
“Just don’t forget the rules.”
Michael rents a convertible. We drive from Oakland to Napa in a little over an hour. The Bay Area is so pretty. In my opinion, much prettier than L.A. It’s lush. And green. No rush hour traffic when it’s not rush hour. Michael and I talked about me. Him. Me and him. How good we feel. How good this is. How lucky we are to have this second chance. We decide to milk it, play it all the way out. Neither of us was specific, although I have a pretty good idea what he meant. “I’m not playing,” he said as we passed over some bridge that wasn’t the Bay Bridge or the Golden Gate.
“I’m not either,” I said. “I like you, Michael.”
“Not half as much as I like you,” he said.
And we left it at that.
“How much farther?”
“About ten or fifteen minutes. You need me to stop? Do you have to go to the restroom?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
A few minutes later, we pass a designer outlet and I almost have a stroke. “Oh my God! There’s a Barney’s! Coach! BCBG and Cole Haan! Are they serious?”
“I can turn around if you want to check it out.”
“No!” I say, pressing both hands against the dashboard.
“I don’t mind, Robin.”
“There’s nothing in those shops I need. So keep driving, dude.”
The hotel is unassuming. After we check in, they put our bags on a golf cart and drive us to our room. When the bellman opens the door, I almost have a heart attack. It feels like we’re in the Mediterranean. There are two huge rooms. A fireplace. A sofa. A table with settings for two. The bed is up high and stuffed with pillows. Everything is white and gold. “Is this their honeymoon suite, or what?” I ask Michael.
“I have no idea. But it’s ours for two nights.”
He takes me by the hand and walks me out to a terrace that overlooks what appears to be the entire Napa Valley. I have never seen anything quite like this except in movies. We lean over the wooden railing and look down at a grove of olive trees. “This is unbelievable.” It’s about all I can say.
“Okay,” Michael says, “this is the plan. We can change any part of it if you want. Tonight: we have dinner upstairs in the hotel’s restaurant. They have a tasting menu that’s supposed to be out of this world, and then tomorrow morning we have reservations for a four-handed massage.”
“How many hands?”
“Four. Two people massage you at the same time. We’ll be in separate rooms. After that, we go on a wine-tasting tour. Later, dinner on the wine train. It travels through the vineyards. And Sunday, we sleep in until they kick us out, then head back to the real world.”
“This is real, isn’t it, Michael?”
“Very much so,” he says. “Very much so.”
We miss dinner.
“Will I get a chance to meet your friend?” I ask. We’re lying by the pool. It’s one of those infinity kind. We just had our four-handed massage. Out of this world. Then we took a steam bath. I don’t know how we got out here.
“He’s in New York. You’ll meet him one day. Not to worry. He’s a golfer.”
“Okay,” I say and close my eyes. This sure feels like a honeymoon. I look over at Michael. “Would you like to marry me?”
He opens his eyes like he’s just had those drops they put in at the optometrist. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We lie there for a few minutes and look at each other. He gets up from his chaise and comes over to mine. Drops his towel on the purple concrete and gets on his knees. He kisses me on one cheek. Then the other. He looks into my eyes and smiles. “Are you sure you want me to be your husband?”
“Absolutely positively sure.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“Are you sure about that, Robin?”
“Absolutely positively sure.”
“But why?” he asks as I make room for him.
“Because I really like you, Michael. I like who you are. What you stand for. I like that you have integrity. I like what you value, and I like your values. Alway
s have. You respect me. You make me feel smart, even though I am smart. You make me feel good inside. Like warm pudding. And you make me feel luscious and beautiful and important. I know you love me, don’t you?”
“From the beginning.”
“It’s also nice not to have to apologize for what I’m not.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got it all. You’ve got charm and energy and sass and moxy and you drive a fast car and you’re smart and sexy. You’re a good parent. And I repeat: What on earth are you talking about?”
“I don’t have a job.”
“And?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do for the rest of my life, Michael.”
“Who does? We think we do. I wish you would stop acting like a clock is ticking or some such nonsense.”
“But it is.”
“You’ve still got a few minutes left, I think. Come on, baby. You don’t have to have it all figured out today or next week. You’ve got me for life.”
“Oh. That’s a given. I can tell you right now that divorce is out of the question. I don’t care how pissed off we get, we will work it out. Deal?”
He repositions himself and shakes my hand. “Deal.”
“Even if you put those forty pounds back on, join a circus, get a job flipping burgers at Micky D’s—you ain’t going nowhere, boyfriend.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It is.”
“So you know. I’m willing to do everything I can to help you figure out what you think you might want to do.”
“I think I’m going to have to figure it out on my own, Michael.”
“I know. I just don’t want you to have to worry about money, because I’ve got some.”
“So do I. So you don’t have to worry about taking care of me.”
“What do you think your girlfriends are going to think about this? Us?”
“You think I’m worried about that?”
“I didn’t say that. But what if they ask you what made you want to do this so soon when you haven’t seen me in years?”
“I’ll just say because I wanted to. And that’ll be the end of it.”
I push him off my lounge chair.
“So, is that a yes or a no?”
“Make that a yes, Robin. I’d love to be your husband.”
“I must be seeing things,” I say to Michael when he pulls up in front of my house. “That looks like Russell’s raggedy car parked in the driveway.”
“Were you expecting him?”
“No, I wasn’t. And I want to know what he’s doing here.” Before I get out of the car, Sparrow comes running out of the house toward me and Russell is walking behind her. I slam the door after I get out.
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” she says, hugging me hard. She’s also crying.
I push her away. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen? And what are you doing here?” I say to Russell. The look on his face tells me something has happened.
“Well, Mom. You know that the group came over and we were supposed to make calls on behalf of Katrina victims, right?”
“And?”
“Well, Samuel told someone at school he was coming over and it got out and then like I didn’t even have a chance to open the door when they rang the doorbell and then the next thing I knew there were like sixty kids in the house and they were like playing music and drinking stuff out of the bar and I was yelling at them, telling them to leave but they wouldn’t and so I got scared and didn’t want to call you on your vacation and so I called my dad.”
“I just stopped them from destroying your crib,” Russell says.
“And how did you do that, Russell?”
“I just locked the door and told them that if they didn’t clean this mess up, I was going to call the police and every single one of them would be arrested for trespassing and breaking and entering.”
“That’s true, Mom.”
I hear Michael get out of the car. “Hi, Sparrow. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“How’s it going, man?” he says to Russell.
“It’s all good,” he says. “Just tried to protect my daughter.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for protecting our daughter, Russell. Really.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“Oh, one more thing, Mom. I think Romeo got out.”
“Got out how? Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ve been looking everywhere for him,” Russell says. “And you know little dogs like that don’t stand much of a chance out here in the desert. I’m really sorry, Robin.”
“Where’s Juliet?”
“Hiding,” Sparrow says.
“Then wherever she is, Romeo won’t be far.”
I charge inside the house and pass through one beer-smelling room after another. I yell both of their names and sling open my bedroom door, hoping that these kids didn’t have the nerve to come in here. I stand there, looking around, making sure everything is intact. It doesn’t look like anything has been touched. This is when I hear whimpering coming from under my bed. I bend down and there those two little munchkins are, just shivering away. “It’s okay, kids, come on out. It’s okay,” I say as they creep out on all fours, but not before looking around to make sure the coast is clear.
Payments
As soon as I got to the airport, I stood frozen in one spot for so long—watching in horror what was on every TV monitor—I almost missed my flight. I could not believe what I was seeing. That there had been a hurricane. The bitch’s name was Katrina and she had caused the levees to break and much of New Orleans was underwater. Hundreds of thousands of people were now homeless, lost, dead or injured? That twenty thousand people had been living in the Superdome with no toilets, no food, no air-conditioning and no drinking water? And no help from the United States government? They were Johnnie on the spot when that tsunami hit Thailand last year, though, weren’t they? This was like watching a science fiction movie. I hadn’t seen this look of panic and helplessness on people’s faces since 9/II. I listened as men and women described their futile search for loved ones. Children separated from their parents. There was no power. No buses. No trains. No nothing. By the time I boarded and sank into my comfortable business-class seat, I was crying so hard I couldn’t stop. I was wrong. For some, the world can come to an end while you’re on vacation.
“Are you all right, mademoiselle? Are you ill?” the flight attendant asked as she put her hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head. “I’ll be okay,” I said. “Thank you.” I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. I kept seeing people running and screaming and crying and walking through waist-high water. I wanted to know how they were going to survive that. I wanted to know how it feels to lose everything. How do you plan for tomorrow when all you have is today? As soon as this plane lands, I’m calling Thora, I thought.
After getting my luggage and waiting in line for a taxi, I sent Thora a text message explaining the reasons why I wanted and needed to go to New Orleans. On the ride home, I decided to check my messages. I only had seven, since I give my cell number only to friends, Mama and Sheila and a few close associates. The first one was from Isaac, last week:
Hey Savannah. Hope you’re doing well. Just wanted you to know that I got the settlement. Thank you very much. I slid an envelope under your doormat with a certified check in it to cover the three thousand I owe you plus a couple of the back payments on the loan. That’s the best I can do for now. I’m really sorry about all this, Savannah, and will keep you posted as my situation improves. By the way, I went fishing a few days ago. Caught some beautiful striped bass. Couldn’t make them taste the way you always did to save my life. Well, anyway, you take good care.
His message made me smile. I really needed a reason. I wished I could take back what I’d said to him. That I regretted ever marrying him. Because it wasn’t true. Isaac filled years of my life with love and ma
gic and comfort. No one can ever take that from me. Not even him.
By the time the taxi neared my exit, I waited to hear the second message. It was from Jasper:
Bonjour, Mademoiselle Savannah. This is Jasper calling to say I hope you had a wonderful time in Paris and I’m sorry you had to come home to such tragic news. I’m in New Orleans, trying to help with the medical problems many people are facing, and not sure how long I’m going to be here, so it looks like we’re going to have to postpone going to the driving range for a minute, but I’ll try to be in touch. Take good care. I look forward to seeing you soon.
Right on, Jasper. I think I might like to get to know him better. I think I might like him. A little bit. He’s definitely interesting. He might even be fun.
Next was Thora.
So sorry you had an allergic reaction to something in the flat but I’m sure you found a wonderful hotel, since there are so many to choose from. Anyway, I wanted to know if you’ve been thinking more about that new format for your shows you mentioned before you left. We can talk more about specifics after you get over your jetlag. Oh, let me know if you have time to come to the boys’ fifth birthday party. It’s going to be at Chuck E Cheese. But no clowns. They scare the bejeezers out of them.
There is no way in hell I’m going to a birthday party for those five-year-old little Chuckys. I think I’m going to be honest and tell Thora as nicely as possible that I don’t think I’d enjoy the party as much as she will.
Robin:
Okay, so don’t freak out. Michael and I are getting married. We haven’t set a date but you guys have to help me find a dress! I hope you had a hella good time in Paris and you brought me back some expensive perfume. And just so you know, I’ve got our tickets to the you-know-what next weekend and all the proceeds are going to the Katrina Relief Fund, so you and Gloria and Bernie are going whether you want to or not. Call me if you need a ride from the airport. I’ll send Sparrow to pick your behind up! Not! I’m happy, girl.
Getting to Happy Page 34