Time Trials

by Lee, Terry

  “I think we need another weekend,” Frannie said.

  “Our place is out. Having major plumbing problems.” Janie rolled her eyes. “Can’t think of anything worse than bad plumbing and a bunch of old BAGs with weak bladders.”

  “I’ll find us a place,” Allison offered. “How about Jamaica Beach, somewhere down on the west end of the island?”

  The group agreed. Galveston for their next BAGs weekend.

  “Hey everybody, don’t forget your twinkle toes.” Which was Dena’s nickname for the red bling flip flops. Over the years she’d replaced the original sets for the BAGs several times, and obviously had been way ahead of the fashion curve. Now rhinestone-covered red flip flops could readily be found. Even Academy Sports had a better than average sparkly version.

  There was never a time the group of women got together for any length before something from the old days surfaced. Could be who got caught with beer in the dorm, running to jump in bed when they heard the RA coming down the hall for bed check, finding a joint under Piper’s pillow, favorite movies. But more times than not, the Carole King/James Taylor debate flared up. After all these years, “You’ve Got A Friend” was still recognized among most age groups, even though the song had recently celebrated its fortieth birthday.

  “I say we take another vote.” Janie’s voice approached Tourette’s level. “All for Carole raise your hand.” Piper, Frannie, and Allison’s hands went up. “Okay, that’s three for Carole. James?” Dena, Janie, and Regina had their turn.

  “Suzanne!” Dena’s polished fingernail pointed toward Suzanne, who sat motionless, hands in her lap. “Pick! You can’t be a holdout forever. This is a simple question.”

  “I know, I know.” Suzanne pulled in and then slowly released a deep breath. “Denise and I just couldn’t ever decide. Can’t we call it a tie? That’s how we used to settle it.”

  “Only because we couldn’t get a vote out of you two. C’mon, ya big baby.” Dena refilled her glass. “Life is tough. Put on your big girl panties.”

  “I don’t know.” Suzanne closed her eyes and rubbed the middle of her forehead. The rest of the BAGS sat back.

  “Wanna borrow Candice for some advice?” By now, all the women had learned about Janie’s alter ego. Regina never came clean to the group about Snow, and Janie never outed her. The BAGs realized they all had a voice of reason, whether in their head or sitting on a shoulder; they’d just never given a name or personality to their doppelganger.

  The group jumped when Suzanne pounded a fist on the coffee table. “Okay! James Taylor!”

  “James Taylor!” Three of the BAGs held up their glasses and echoed Suzanne.

  “Not my choice, but damn it woman, at least you got it out.” Dena shook her head.

  “Oh God, the pressure.” Suzanne fell back onto the couch. “I felt like I was eighteen again. Geez.”

  “Well, that settles it.” Janie reached for a handful of mixed nuts. “After all these years we have a tie-breaker.”

  “Carole still wrote the song,” Dena said. “That should count for a point.”

  “I think we can safely put this to rest.” Allison stood. “I’m a Tapestry girl myself, but they both won Grammys. It’s late girls. I’m outta here.” She pulled her keys from her purse. “I’ll see what I can find on Jamaica Beach.”

  ~~~

  The story goes that Carole King wrote “You’ve Got A Friend” in 1971 and recorded it on her Tapestry album. James Taylor, a good friend of King’s, also recorded the song and released it as a single in April of that year. Taylor’s version flew to the top of the charts, hitting #1 by July. The song was not that big of a hit for King, probably because she never released it as a single. However, Tapestry blew all the other albums out of the water, spending fifteen weeks at #1 in the U.S. “You’ve Got A Friend” won the Grammy in 1972, Carole King being the songwriter, James Taylor’s version the more popular. He also won Best Male Pop Vocalist. Carole King won Best Female Pop Vocalist and Album of the Year, of course, for Tapestry.

  Chapter 33

  Regina - 2012

  “Can you meet for lunch sometime this week?” Regina asked Allison as she rubbed the soft skin of her neck upward toward her chin. It was part of her daily routine of reassurance that her recent lift procedure had taken care of her turkey neck, as her mother used to call it. Suzanne’s husband had worked miracles on her petrified facial features. No other cosmetic surgeon would ever again touch her face, even if she did have to dip into her retirement to afford his fees.

  “Well, what about tomorrow? You can? Great.” She still considered Allison to be her closest friend. And right now she could use a friend, and knew Allison wouldn’t pull any punches. She never had, even back when they were roommates at Sam. Intimidation never worked on Allison, and without the intimidation factor to keep so-called “friends” at arm’s length, Regina had nothing.

  Tossing her iPhone across the bed, she tried to figure out the puzzle which was her life, a subject she had been contemplating for the last couple of days. Something had to change. But what? Her life had gone all wrong, which she blamed on her crappy childhood. She’d held on to that theory for decades until the recent visit with her therapist.

  “Regina, let me tell you something.”

  The therapist had been the latest of several she had tried over the last couple of years. This one could see straight through Regina’s bullshit, but seemed to provide a soft cushion for her to crash. The therapist actually reminded her of Allison, which had prompted the lunch date.

  “From what I’ve heard, your life has been total crap because of your parents and your upbringing. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” Regina’s voice sounded like she was in third grade.

  “I know it’s a cliché, and one Dr. Phil has used forever, but…how’s that working for you?”

  The air in the small office seemed to have disappeared. Here it comes, she thought. The sting. Something she’d learned awhile back. Therapy didn’t always feel good. And when topics slithered too close to her comfort zone, she’d usually haul ass.

  “N-o-t so great.” She shrugged and willed herself to stay put and not to bolt out of the office. Thinking about her past, which she had been doing a lot lately, made her sad. Very sad.

  “You’ve got a choice.” The therapist pushed her chair close to the couch where Regina sat. “You can live the rest of your life blaming your parents…being the victim…or you can do something about it.”

  “What do you mean?” Regina’s eyebrows bunched together, which they could actually do these days.

  “Having a crappy childhood explains why you’ve made some of those not-so-great choices.” The therapist paused. “But it’s not an excuse. It’s just that…an explanation. You’re an adult. The rest is up to you. You want things to be different? Do something different.”

  The words kept playing in Regina’s head, teasing her as if to test the waters. Would she do it this time? Do something different? Or revert to what she knew best…run. Run away from her feelings.

  Raising her knees as a prop, she lowered her head onto the feel of silk pjs. “God, I’m tired of running.” Her divorce had been finalized last week. Three marriages, three divorces. Although Texas was not an alimony-mandated state, the division of property had left her comfortable, money-wise. Her eyes circled the master bedroom of the uptown loft she’d leased with an option to buy after the first year. The high ceilings and the rich furnishings did absolutely nothing to shift her mood.

  She eased herself out of bed and padded into the enormous master bath. Hands braced on the marble counter, she smiled into the massive framed mirror.

  “I’m Regina Westmoreland and…how is your day?” What a crock. That disappointment had happened twenty years ago and still sizzled like a hot coal in her belly.

  “Who are you anyway?” she asked, glaring at the woman in the mirror. She traveled back to Tyler every five years just to attend her high school reunion. She hadn’t
missed one. Not because she wanted to see her old friends, which she didn’t have anyway. She went because she wanted to be seen. Envied by others. Why did she think she was so special? As soon as the thought sailed through her mind, the answer shot right back.

  Because you were, and let me emphasize were, a pitiful child. Now you’re a pitiful adult-child. You never felt loved or special, so you created this…this bitch. And I say that with endearment.

  “Snow?” Regina straightened. “Is that you? Where have you been?”

  Right here. Just really didn’t have anything to say. It’s been like watching a train wreck.

  “So, why now?”

  I think you’re finally getting it. It sucks to hurt. But it doesn’t have to hurt forever. You heard your therapist. You have a choice, and I think you’re ready. And by the way, a big thumbs up on getting your face straightened out. Looking in the mirror was like Halloween 24/7. Scary.

  Regina’s smile softened. Her alter-ego had resurfaced. For some crazy reason her over-sized and over-priced loft felt a little less empty.

  The next day she sat across from Allison in a booth at the Cheesecake Factory.

  “I know it’s a weekday but I’m going to have a martini.” Regina signaled the waitress. “Don’t make me drink alone,” she said to Allison.

  “I bet Piper has never said those words.” Allison grinned and skimmed the menu.

  “Welcome to the Cheesecake Factory. What can I get for you?” the waitress asked.

  “Okay, listen. Do you have Blooms….” Regina stopped. At least she thought it was her who stopped speaking, although it actually felt like an outside source. You were such a bitch floated through her mind. I think you’re finally getting it. She felt like a mental brick had been smacked across her forehead. One that wouldn’t do any physical damage, of course.

  When she returned from her subconscious field trip, the waitress and Allison were both staring.

  “Uh….” She bit her lower lip, which was always a no-no. “Uh…I’ll have a martini, please.”

  “Gin or vodka?” The waitress looked a bit unsure, and why wouldn’t she?

  “Do you happen to have Tanqueray?” Regina smiled kindly, something she’d been practicing. “If not, any gin will do.”

  “Fine,” the waitress made a few notes and then turned to Allison. “And for you?”

  Allison pursed her lips and studied Regina before she responded. “Just your house Chardonnay and some water, please.”

  “Oh, yes, I’d like some water too…please.” Regina folded her hands in her lap.

  “Sure, no problem.” The waitress made a few more notes and left the table.

  “What was that all about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” Allison lowered her voice when the waitress returned with water and a basket of hot bread. “Any gin will do? What did you do with Ms. Bloomsbury? Is that what it’s called?” Allison’s tone had a touch of candor, but also amusement.

  You’re on, she heard Snow whisper. “Well, that’s sort of why I wanted to meet with you.”

  “I’m listening.” Allison buttered a piece of the warm bread just as their drinks were delivered.

  “And we did have Tanqueray for you.” The waitress placed a cocktail napkin on the table, followed by the martini.

  “Wonderful, thank you so much.” Regina offered up another smile.

  “My pleasure,” the waitress said. “Would you like to order now?”

  “I think we’re going to need a little time.” Allison grinned at the waitress, waited until she left the table, and then zeroed back in on Regina.

  “Okay, what is it? Are you dying?” Allison appeared only half serious.

  “I’d expect that from Dena, but not you.” Regina closed her hands around the base of the martini glass.

  “Very true. I thought the same thing myself as soon as it came out.” Allison held up her wine glass. “Here’s to whatever is coming down the pipes.”

  Regina raised her stemmed glass. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, and took her first sip.

  “I’m all ears. What’s up?”

  She shifted on her side of the booth. “I’m seeing a new therapist, and well…no need to go into all that, but…I’ve decided a few things.”

  Allison took a large swig of wine and kept silent.

  “First off. I realize I don’t know how to have a decent relationship. Three marriages, three divorces? The common denominator is me.” Not surprisingly, she’d never actually put that together until that moment. Thank goodness Snow had returned.

  “And second.” She paused for another sip of the gin martini. “There’s a nice person inside of me, I’m just not sure how to let her out. I’m tired Allison. I’m tired of being a bitch.”

  Obviously realizing how difficult that had been for Regina, Allison’s eyes teared.

  “I need help.”

  Grabbing a Kleenex from her purse, Allison dabbed at her eyes. “You’re getting help. That’s the important thing. And it sounds like you’ve finally found a therapist who can see through your bullshit.”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Damn, I didn’t expect to be crying at the Cheesecake Factory.” Allison blew her nose. “So quick, say something funny.”

  “Funny? I don’t think that way.”

  “I know. But c’mon…try.”

  Regina thought a moment. Okay…let’s see. Think funny. “Should we see if Penny is working today? I’d like to know if she’s ever going to marry Leonard. What a nerd.”

  Allison covered her mouth to keep wine from spewing onto the basket of bread. She swallowed and then took a large swig of water.

  “Not half bad!” The Penny/Leonard debacle on The Big Bang Theory had been going on for years. And although much less polished than this wait staff, Penny did indeed work at The Cheesecake Factory. “And I’ve gotta tell you. Whatever Suzanne’s doctor-husband did worked miracles.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ve got a real natural smile. Looks great. Very…real.”

  Now Regina reached for a Kleenex.

  “Okay, before this gets too mushy, let me say a few things.” Allison signaled for another Chardonnay. “You?” she asked, pointing to the empty martini glass.

  Regina shook her head.

  “Maybe you should stop dating…or marrying in your case, for a while.” Allison shot a wink toward Regina. “Figure out you first. Find out who that is.”

  “You sound like my therapist.”

  Allison shrugged just as her iPhone started with a guitar-strum ring tone. “Just my two cents. And remember, you’ve always got the BAGs. Although we’re really The Old BAGs now, you’ve got us…have for forty years.”

  She’s right you know. You’ve had them all along. They never gave up on you.

  “Hello?” Allison listened for a split second and then checked her watch. “Okay, I’m on my way.” She pushed her phone down into her purse and moved to the edge of the booth. “Ready to do something nice?”

  “What?”

  “That was Scott. Michelle’s in labor. Crap, she’s three weeks early. I’m on my way to the hospital. I need you to get in touch with Frannie. She’s on call to be at the house when the boys get off the bus. Go with her.” Allison took off, then returned to the table. “I’ll get lunch next time, and one more thing. That bit about not knowing how to let the nice person out? Just lower your arms. We’ll all be there.” Allison winked again. “I’m off.”

  After placing the call to Frannie, Regina thought about Allison’s simple words. Let your arms down. Bazinga. Allison had nailed the tail to that donkey. She’d spent her whole life keeping people from getting too close. Regina paid the bill and headed to Michelle’s house.

  Chapter 34

  Allison - 2012

  Lily Denise Bradshaw made her grand appearance with an ear-piercing wail, weighing in at seven pounds, two ounces. Scott, Michelle’s husband,
had a weak stomach. Allison was Scott’s back up. She stood in as the mother-figure to help Michelle, and to keep Scott from passing out, same as she’d done with Michelle’s first two.

  Because Lily had decided to make an early entrance, Scott’s parents, who lived in Wisconsin, were unable to be there for the delivery. However, Uncle Michael and his wife Jules, Papa David, Step-Grandma Julia, Janie, and Frannie were in the delivery waiting room when Scott emerged. Regina had offered to stay with the boys so Frannie could come to the hospital.

  There are few times in life that compare to witnessing a father walking out of the delivery room cradling his newborn child. Rarely are words found to describe the feeling seconds after a new little soul arrives on the planet.

  Lily’s footprints had been stamped on Scott’s scrubs, as well as her birth weight, length, and time of arrival. Scott had such a soft heart. He just stood there, eyes glistening, admiring his minutes-old daughter. After hugs and congratulations, Scott, escorted by a delivery nurse, took baby Lily down to the nursery for her first bath.

  When Scott brought Michelle home from the hospital with their precious pink bundle, Allison was already there with a casserole in the oven, overseeing the rowdy “big” brothers. The BAGs had devised a schedule for bringing over meals, plus helping with the laundry and grocery shopping, which especially came in handy after Scott went back to work. Piper sent Target gift cards to make up for her absence.

  “Bonus Moms are so awesome,” Michelle said to Allison one day. “No one can replace Mom, but you guys are great. Oh…I didn’t tell you. Mom was in my dream the other night.”

  “Oh yeah?” Allison pulled clothes from the dryer. “Aladdin?”

  Michelle had Lily in her portable little bathtub. “No, it was…similar, but definitely not Aladdin.”

  “How so?” Allison folded diaper shirts, burp cloths, onesies, hooded bath towels, changing pads, and receiving blankets.

  “Wait, let me get her dried off.” Allison handed Michelle a warm bath towel with a baby giraffe on the hood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”