by Gary Smalley
“There you are,” Charlotte said. “Come on out and join me.” She was sitting in a wicker chair, drinking a glass of iced tea with lime.
Marilyn noticed she was wearing pajamas. Outside. She was sitting outside in her pajamas.
Charlotte noticed her noticing. “You’re wondering about this?” She pointed to her outfit. “Nobody can see us out here. It’s too high up, and the railing blocks the view for the most part.” Marilyn looked at the other apartments on the same level. All the balconies were empty.
“No one ever comes out on their balconies,” Charlotte said. “It’s like they’re just for show. Go get comfortable, pour yourself some tea, and c’mon. I ran out of lemons, but I had a lime in the fridge. Hope you like limes.”
Marilyn smiled. “I do.” She closed the door and headed to her bedroom. What a fun idea, something she’d never think of doing. As she changed, she was aware of how tired she was, and her legs felt sore from standing most of the day. But it was a good tired, and her aching legs didn’t bother her too much. She looked at a clock on her dresser. It was 9:45, Saturday night. Tomorrow morning she planned to go to church then be back at the store at two. She hoped the service didn’t start too early. After pouring her iced tea and adding a wedge of lime, she joined Charlotte on the balcony.
“Can you close that the rest of the way?” Charlotte said. “I just left the door open so you’d hear me when you got home. Might as well save a little on the electric bill, right?”
After closing the door, Marilyn sat in the other chair. There was really only room for two of them and a little round wicker table tucked in between. It felt strange being outside in her pajamas. Another first in her life.
“Isn’t this nice?”Charlotte said. “I love sitting out here at night. You wouldn’t think with all those people walking around in the street down there that it’d feel so private. But no one ever looks up here. They’re all looking in the store windows, chatting to each other. And there’s such a nice breeze up here.”
“The downtown area looks beautiful at night,” Marilyn said. “It always does, but from up here even more.” She imitated Charlotte and rested her feet on the lower part of the rail. Looking down through the rungs, she saw a young couple strolling by one of the storefront windows, holding hands. They were about Michele and Allan’s age and obviously in love; you could see it on their faces.
“Love is in the air,” Charlotte said, watching the same couple.
Marilyn nodded. “So Charlotte, how did you come to be here in River Oaks?”
“Same way a lot of folks from up north did, I guess. I came down on vacation several years in a row with friends. You know, mostly going to Disney and the other theme parks. Then we’d spend a few days lounging around on the beach. After a while, I started thinking I should move here. Usually after a lousy winter. When Eddie started college, I asked him what he thought about moving down here when he graduated. He said he’d love it, so I figured, I’ll come down first and get set up, you know? Why should I stay up there through four more winters? It’s not like I was seeing him anymore once school started.”
Marilyn sipped her tea. “But how did you end up in River Oaks? There’s lots of places in Florida you could have moved to. Especially being an RN.”
“It just worked out,” she said. “The timing, I mean. I was down here on another vacation. My lease was up on my apartment, so I got the newspaper, started reading the want ads. They had just opened the Urgent Care center, so I called, and they said come over for an interview. I came an hour early so I could check out the area.” A big smile came over her face. “Well, you know what happened then. One slow drive around this place and I was hooked. I called Eddie all excited, telling him I’d never seen a cuter town in all my life. It was like living in Disney World.”
Marilyn thought about her first tour of River Oaks. It had been enchanting, almost unreal. She thought the people living here had to be the luckiest and happiest people on earth. Every home was gorgeous. Every property perfectly kept. So many parks and fountains and shady trees. The downtown area looked like a movie set from the fifties, except in vibrant color.
“After my interview,” Charlotte continued, “and I knew I got the job, I spent the rest of the afternoon touring the model homes. It was just for fun, of course. Not like I could ever afford to live in one of those places. But I was all dressed nice for the interview, figured the realtor didn’t know that. So I walked around, asked questions, pretended I had money and might be interested.” She shook her head. “Some of the most beautiful homes I’d ever seen. Can’t imagine what it would be like to live in any one of them. Unless maybe I had died and gone to heaven. Hey, I’m sorry, hon. What’s the matter? Did I put my foot in my mouth?”
Marilyn didn’t realize her expression had soured, hearing Charlotte go on about all the beautiful houses in River Oaks. She’d lived in one of the nicest homes in town. Hadn’t Charlotte known that? She felt sure she’d told her. “It’s nothing, Charlotte. You’re right. The homes here are lovely.”
“Oh my, that’s right. You lived in one, didn’t you? I’m sorry. Listen to me going on like that. It’s just . . . you’re out here on this little balcony with me . . . in your pajamas . . .”
“Don’t quite look the part? Don’t worry about it. But you know, having a house like that, even in a town like this . . . doesn’t guarantee you’ll be happy. I know a lot of miserable couples who live in big homes all around here. We used to invite some of them over for my husband’s business parties.” A few names came to mind, some of the nastiest people she’d ever spent an evening with. “I’m having much more fun sitting out on this little balcony with you.”
“Really?” Charlotte said. “That’s nice of you to say. ’Course, I think we could be having just as much fun sitting on one of those big wraparound front porches instead.”
Marilyn looked around at all the empty balconies in sight. She wasn’t so sure. “You know something, Charlotte? I can’t recall the last time I even sat out on our front porch. And you know something else? I can’t recall ever seeing any of my neighbors sitting on their big wraparound porches, either. Not even once.” She thought about it a little more. “I can’t remember ever seeing anyone else on their porches when I’ve driven around the different neighborhoods.”
“Really?” Charlotte said.
“Really.”
“What a waste.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Why do you think that is?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know. Why doesn’t anyone ever sit out on their balconies?”
“Good question.” She sat up, looked around. “I never see anyone out here.”
It was the oddest thing. It had never dawned on Marilyn before. That big wraparound porch was one of the things she’d liked best about the house on Elderberry Lane, and all the other houses in her neighborhood. It gave her a really nice feeling. Like it was the kind of neighborhood from ages past, when people really did spend time together on front porches, talking, laughing, drinking iced tea.
But now she realized it was just for show.
The house, the neighborhood . . . this entire town. All just an illusion of happiness. She’d had it all, the best the American dream had to offer. And here she was, sitting out on this tiny balcony, in her pajamas, drinking iced tea with Charlotte.
She hadn’t been this happy in years.
12
Marilyn looked up from her table under the awning at Giovanni’s, a little Italian café on Main Street. Michele should be there any minute. The sun had begun to set, but it was still warm outside. She hoped not too warm to enjoy their dinner together.
She was still wearing her outfit from work, glad she didn’t have to wear a uniform. When she took the name tag off she was all set for a casual dinner out. She’d gotten off at six o’clock; the store closed early on Sundays.
That morning she had a pleasant experience at Charlotte’s church, the one that met in the high school. S
he felt a little odd going to a church service in a school, especially the same one her son attended. The congregation was much younger than she was used to, but the people were so friendly it didn’t seem to matter. The worship music was loud, performed by a contemporary band with drums, guitars, and an electronic keyboard. They were quite talented, especially the singers. The enthusiasm of the congregation soon drew her into the experience.
Once the pastor began preaching, she’d quickly forgotten how young he looked. He talked for just over thirty minutes and never bored her once. But perhaps the best part of the experience was the fact that no one knew who she was or any of the problems she was going through. No one judged her. No self-righteous eyes to deal with or fears of what people were saying behind her back.
She glanced up again. Still no sign of Michele.
Marilyn looked beneath the table. Beside her purse was a little bit of foolishness, something she’d bought that afternoon. She couldn’t wait to show Michele. It had been calling to her since her first day at Odds-n-Ends, just sitting there on a glass shelf. It was beautiful. Every time she saw it, it had stirred wonderful memories. These days, wonderful memories were hard to find. She glanced down at the box through the opening in the bag.
“Mom?”
She looked up. It was Michele, waving as she walked along the sidewalk toward the café. Marilyn got up to give her a hug.
“That’s a nice outfit,” Michele said.
“I’ve had it awhile, but it’s been in the back of my closet. I actually wore it to work this afternoon.”
Michele smiled. “I’m still not used to that, my mom working a real job.”
“Motherhood’s a real job,” Marilyn said.
“You know what I mean.”
The waiter walked up. “Can I take your drink orders while you look over the menus?”
“Sure,” Marilyn said. They took turns telling the waiter what they wanted. After he left, Marilyn said, “Speaking of work, I bought something this afternoon I’m dying to show you.”
“What is it? Something for the wedding?”
“No, something just for me.”
“Really?”
Marilyn was reaching down for the bag when the waiter walked up. “Here’s your drinks, ladies. Do you still need a few more minutes to look over the menus?”
“I’m sorry,” Marilyn said. “We’ve been just gabbing away. We’ll look at them now.”
“No problem, I’ll be back in a few.”
“My treat, by the way,” Marilyn said to Michele.
“Mom, you can’t do that.”
“Why not? I’m out with my daughter, we’re doing wedding things. If your dad and I were together, I’d be doing this very thing on this very day.”
“But isn’t Dad going to be upset when he gets this bill?”
Marilyn thought a moment. “He might be. I’ll tell you what, I’ll pay for it myself.”
“With what?”
“I’m working now.”
“But you have bills now too. Just let me pay for my own dinner.”
“No, it’s my treat. Besides, I’m all paid up on my bills for the first thirty days. Now let’s stop talking and read these menus before that nice young man comes back.”
Marilyn smiled and opened the menu. After a few minutes, the waiter returned with their drinks and took their orders. Marilyn ordered a seafood manicotti dish. She was able to talk Michele into the item she had clearly been staring at but avoiding because of the price: beef braciole in a red wine tomato sauce. After the waiter left, Marilyn bent down and put the Odds-n-Ends bag on the table. She had to set it on its side to slide the gift box out.
“What is it?” Michele asked.
“Wait till you see.” Marilyn carefully pried open the lid and lifted the shiny wooden box out.
“Is it a jewelry box?”
“Just wait.” She opened the lid, revealing a figurine of a beautiful girl in a flowing blue dress. The girl had auburn hair and porcelain smooth skin. She spun slowly in the center of the box, her arms swirling above her head.. Music began to play. But not just any music. “Do you recognize the song?” Marilyn stared at the dancing girl. Michele didn’t answer. Marilyn looked across the table. Tears welled up in Michele’s eyes.
She did remember.
“‘Somewhere My Love,’” Marilyn said softly. “Remember? It was ‘Lara’s Theme’ from the movie Dr. Zhivago. I saw it in the store, and the dancer instantly reminded me of you. A customer asked to hear the song, so I turned the key and I couldn’t believe what came out.”
Michele reached for the linen napkin and dabbed her eyes.
“Remember how we used to dance together in the living room to this song, when you were taking dancing lessons?” Marilyn said.
“That was . . . so much fun,” Michele said. “You’d push all the furniture off to the side, roll up the oriental rug, and we’d spin around and around.”
“Just in our socks on the wood floor,” Marilyn added, then sighed. “I was awful, but you danced beautifully.”
“What are you talking about, Mom? I was a clumsy twelve-year-old. You were the dancer. I loved watching the way you moved.”
Marilyn shook her head. “I don’t think we’re having the same memory, darling.” She suddenly realized the music box was a little loud for the space, even though they were outside. Several women at tables nearby were staring. “I better close this.”
“No, not yet,” said a petite elderly woman at the table to her right. “Please. Not till the song finishes.” She sat next to another woman, about her same age. Both finely dressed. “My late husband, he was such a great singer. He’d sing that song to me. We’d turn the music up loud and swirl across the floor.”
“You two were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,” her friend said. She looked at Marilyn and Michele. “I’m not exaggerating.”
“I’d love to be able to dance like that,” Marilyn said, her eyes shifting to the dancer in the music box. “But I never got the—” She was suddenly overcome with emotion. She reached for her napkin. Michele leaned over and patted her hand.
“It’s never too late to learn,” the elderly woman said.
Yes it is, Marilyn thought. She was much too old to try something like that. And besides, who would she dance with? Michele? Her daughter wasn’t a little girl anymore; she had Allan now. Marilyn had no one.
Not now and really . . . not ever.
Michele seemed to sense what she was feeling. “She’s right, Mom. I remember how we danced. You really are a natural. I’m sure with a few lessons—”
“I’m not a natural.” She looked across the table. “But thanks for saying it.” The song ended, and she closed the lid. “But I have this music box now. And I can play it whenever I want . . . and remember how much fun you and I had together . . . a long time ago.”
“Well,” the older woman said. “Thank you for sharing your music box with us. Brought back a lovely memory for me too.”
“You’re welcome,” Marilyn said. She lifted the music box and set it back in the gift box it came in. She looked up. “I better get this off the table, the waiter’s coming with our salad.” She set the bag gently on the floor beside her purse. When she looked up, the elderly woman reached out her hand.
“I’m going to leave you two alone to enjoy your dinner, I promise. My sister and I need to be going. But here, take this card, just in case you change your mind.”
Marilyn took it and read the words “The Windsor Dance Studio.”
“That’s not our studio,” the woman said, “well, not anymore. But I still go there sometimes to help out. They have all kinds of classes for every kind of dance, including ballroom. That’s my favorite. There’s a new beginner’s class starting up this week, and it’s reasonably priced too.”
“But I’m too old to start—”
“No, you’re not. Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but honestly, more than half the people who take these classes are your age
or older. And the studio is right here downtown, on the ground floor of one of the buildings right around the corner on Oak Lane.”
Marilyn looked at the card again as the waiter came up carrying a big bowl of salad.
“C’mon, Mom,” Michele said. “Do it. You’d have so much fun.”
Fun, Marilyn thought. Was that reason enough to do anything? It was such an unfamiliar concept. But then, isn’t that why she had left Jim? To finally do things she wanted to do, things he’d never allow her to even try? “I don’t know,” she said.
The elderly woman stood up. “Well, just think about it. And thanks again for allowing us to intrude on your time together. That’s a lovely music box, by the way.”
Yes, Marilyn thought, looking down at her purchase.
Yes, it is.
13
Marilyn and Michele had decided to take some of the delicious Italian food home in containers, so they could leave room to split a large slice of tiramisu. “Here,” Michele said, handing her mother a list of names. “We better get this over with before the waiter brings the dessert.”
Marilyn looked over Michele’s wedding invitation list, immediately noticing all the crossed-off names.
“They’re all from your old church,” Michele said. “I left some of the nicer people on there, the ones you seem to get along with. But you better give it a look, make sure I didn’t go too far. I don’t want to get you in too much trouble.”
Marilyn took a sip of coffee and finished scanning the list. “I’m not the one you have to worry about, it’s your father.” She looked up. “I don’t have a problem with a single name you crossed off.” She was a little concerned about what Jim’s reaction would be when he heard they were having the wedding in the park instead of the church.
“Well,” Michele said, “when he sees the final list, we can emphasize how much money he’ll be saving now. He’s always stressing about money these days.”
She was right about that. But Jim cared about image even more. “Well, he doesn’t tell me everything going on with his business. I know he’s lost some major clients the last couple of years. He lost another one last week. But, I’d say go ahead and send the invitations out to all those left on the list. Tomorrow morning, after your father is safely off to work, I’m going to sneak back in the house to get a few things. I’ll put this list on his dresser with a little Post-it note, so he can see who we’re still inviting. But be prepared, he may insist we add back a few names.”