Those were the cold facts. They didn’t speak to how they had recognized each other when they first met, and how a bond of friendship was forged that no amount of separation, bad habits, personal tragedies, or other ups and downs could shatter.
Rona’s cluttering habit had accelerated into a full-blown hoarding disorder. Her apartment was a wreck. Even though almost everything printed today was also available on the Internet, through some cognitive twist Rona was convinced that she needed to save the physical pages anyway. It looked as if her habit was getting worse, not better.
Rona’s drinking was at an all-time high, too. Rona always had a drink in her hand or was anticipating one. She even had a drink after her yoga session.
Perhaps Rona had kept the apartment upstairs empty to feel she had some control over her cluttering. Susan’s compulsion to shop and her tactless instant furnishing of the rooms Rona had already kept empty for two years had not helped.
Susan had her own battles to fight, especially the daily battle with food. A year ago, she had weighed so much she was headed out of the typical plus sizes and into the extreme. She’d reined it in and lost substantial weight, but keeping it off meant constant battling. Otherwise she’d be back to counting the Xs in her clothing size.
One of her summer goals, recapturing her youthful dream of working in publishing, had been fulfilled. Talk about obsessions. For years, she had been obsessed with returning to the city. Yet her life in the Ohio suburbs suited her much better than this endless noise and hot pavement and sparring with ambitious people. People trying to leap into the cab she’d flagged down. People who wanted the dish she’d spotted at the shop. People who had their own agendas at work and weren’t the slightest bit interested in her. After only one week at Coquette Books, she was getting the strong vibe that the quiet spaces of a publisher’s office weren’t where she was meant to be.
She turned over in her makeshift bed. Fresh linens and extra padding helped, but she would be glad when Macy’s delivered a real mattress and springs.
Once that happened, she would start the next phase of her plan for the summer by visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Her goal was one art museum per weekend day. Or one public monument, such as the Statue of Liberty. She was supposed to think about her future, too.
What was her future? Was it any better than Rona’s? Rona seemed to be narrowing her choices by encapsulating herself in loads of clutter, and anesthetizing herself with alcohol. Susan had been down a similar road not so long ago. It led to a dead end.
She didn’t want to think about Rick, or about his ridiculous insistence that she have a fling this summer.
Chapter 4
The bed was delivered and set up early on Saturday morning. Susan enjoyed brunch in a cute little place on 18th Street, then took a bus uptown and walked toward the Metropolitan Museum. She was strolling along a side street, 78th Street, enjoying its mix of extremely posh private homes and doorman apartments when a man veered into her path. Before she could react, he had groped her left breast with a knowing hand, muttered something about how soft she was, and walked on. She stopped still in shock.
Then she blindly started walking again, toward Fifth Avenue and the museum, trying to pick up her pace, but knowing she simply couldn’t match the fast style of indigenous New Yorkers. A man caught up to her, then passed her. She looked at him sideways, trying to hide her apprehension. It was George Clooney, the movie star. He saw her peeking, gave her a kind of regretful smile, and walked on. He soon disappeared into a nearby building. Evidently, George was not out for a day of self-improvement at the museum as she was.
She was still in shock. What had happened? What could she have done? A total stranger had touched a private part of her, and she’d simply let it happen. Did George Clooney see that man grope her? Why had George smiled at her ruefully? Was he acknowledging that he knew that she knew who he was? Or was he sympathizing with the victim of a bizarre street assault?
She was so grateful to see the Met’s imposing façade at last that she bolted up the enormous number of stone steps to the entrance. After getting through security, she headed straight for ticketing and gladly plunked down the full voluntary admission price. Then she asked directions to the Met’s fanciest restaurant to take a break. No food, though. No food to comfort herself. Just tea. All she needed was something for the shock. She did not need a meal. She didn’t.
After half an hour of stewing in her own juices, going over and over the incident in her head, she let it go for now. It had happened. She was not hurt. Later she would ask the guards at the museum entrance about reporting the incident to the police. First she would try to enjoy some fine art. Impressionists sounded right for today. She could use a little soft focus. Perhaps some Turners, with ships engulfed in flame.
***
Hours later, after a pointless exercise in her civic duty at the local police station, Susan indulged herself with a cab ride all the way downtown to the village. When she met up with Rona that evening at her apartment for dinner out, she couldn’t help telling Rona the whole story. Rona was sympathetic, but took it in stride.
“Chill,” she said, handing her a glass of water and seating herself next to Susan on the couch. Rona sipped at some wine. “It happens.”
“What is it with men?” Susan asked, genuinely puzzled. “Why would somebody do that? Did I look as if I was inviting a personal touch from a total stranger?”
“Men are crazy for women. Always have been.”
“That’s it? Men are desperate?”
“Take it as a compliment if you like.” Rona lost interest. She sat as if contemplating something unpleasant as she held her wine glass in midair for a second without moving.
“Human beings crave touch. Imagine if you were in a nursing home and aside from the staff, no one ever put a hand on you. Not a hug or a kiss. Nothing.” Rona shuddered. “Forget it. Touch is a human need. Admittedly this was a twisted one.”
“Shrug it off, as the coach used to say at Kyle’s baseball games,” she responded obligingly, not sure she could do it.
Rona looked at her in wonder. She put a hand on her shoulder.
“That’s the first time you’ve said his name. Sweetie, are you okay with mentioning him?”
“If I don’t, then his short time on this earth will completely fade from human memory, won’t it?” she replied, trying to hide the bleak emotion she suddenly felt. She wiped away a stray tear. “Darn it. I haven’t cried all day. Now this.”
“Sweetie…”
“No, I won’t let it get to me tonight.” She had a clear mental list of ways to deal with her emotions. She’d been doing fine for awhile, until this new problem with Rick had come up. Then that awful man touched her today. Oh, suck it up.
“Aren’t we going to be late? What time is Louis meeting us?” she asked, determined not to talk about it.
“Honey, don’t,” Rona said. Sympathy was written all over her face, sympathy that Susan didn’t want. Couldn’t bear, despite the long way she had come in healing.
“I’m okay now. Let’s go,” she insisted, wondering if it was true. Would she ever be whole again? If not, then how could she decide about the challenges facing her in the near future? What would happen if she crumbled again?
They left, but only after Rona insisted that Susan change blouses, add a necklace, and subtract a jacket. She put up with it and finally hurried with Rona to the avenue corner, where they picked up a cab.
Dinner with Louis promised to be fun. Louis Baum was another old college friend. He was one of Rona’s earliest cast-off lovers who had hung around her since he’d followed her to New York decades ago. A little younger than Rona, Louis had been left behind when Rona graduated. He had always been a friend to Susan and apparently in love with Rona. Tonight, he was waiting at the bar of a small yet elegantly retro restaurant. He was garbed immaculately in a suit with a light gray tone that conveyed this was casual summer wear for him. No tie. Louis jumped up and ga
ve Susan a kiss, then took her hands and pulled back to stare at her newly svelte shape.
“You look wonderful! So thin! Younger than ever.”
“Louis, you have a talent for flattering women,” she smiled. “How are you?” His kindly face hadn’t changed at all over the years. He still had freckles. Wild curly red hair still made a fringe around his head, although the hair was shorter now. Maybe he’d gotten a bit thicker around the middle, but it suited him.
“I’m retired,” Louis said in a casual tone.
“Already?”
“I’d had enough as an attorney broker. It’s a very specialized field and I was done.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged off her question. “It’s too boring to talk about. That’s why I quit.”
The hostess came to seat them. Once they were settled and the all-important drink orders had been given, Susan turned to Louis again. “What do you plan to do next?”
“Live on my investments and screw around.”
“Especially screwing,” Rona interjected. Susan threw her a mock aggravated look.
Louis insisted on changing the focus to Susan. “What about you? Are you starting a new career?”
“Not without some recent experience. I can’t get a job in Ohio. Through someone we know, I was able to secure this unpaid internship.”
“How do you like it?”
“It’s kind of early to tell,” she temporized.
“You hate it.”
“Well…”
“See, I was right, she hates it,” he said.
Rona was distracted by a call on her cell phone, which must have been on vibrate. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Susan asked, seeing Rona look at the phone but not open it.
Rona shook her head. “I don’t recognize the number. I’ll wait to see if they leave a message.”
“Atta girl,” Louis said with a smile. “Make them work for it.”
A message came in to her phone. Rona asked, “Do you mind if I find out who it is? Even though it’s the summer session, one of my students might have gotten arrested or something and be using me as the one phone call. I get call forwarding from my landlines.” She pressed the buttons, put the phone to her ear, and listened. They watched as Rona’s face showed utter incredulity and shock. She turned pale. She shut the phone completely and put it in her purse.
“Crank call?” Louis asked.
“Yes,” Rona replied.
Rona would never be seriously bothered by a crank call. She was the type to tell the caller where to go and how to do it.
“Was it someone you know?” Susan probed, concerned.
“Not anymore,” Rona said. “Now let’s talk about something else.” She turned to Louis, “Are you going to help me turn Susan into a fashionable city woman, or shall we leave her in her frumpy Ohio wardrobe?”
“Why ask me? Am I the gay friend in this trio?” Louis said teasingly. Susan’s eyes went wide.
“Now see what you’ve done.” Rona turned to Susan. “He’s trying to shock you. Louis is not gay.”
“That’s only because I had sex with you before I knew I was gay,” Louis claimed, with an exaggerated leer. If it was possible, Susan’s eyes grew wider.
“Louis,” Rona said in a warning tone.
“Not gay. Bi every once in a while, if he’s really hot and I’ve been doing party drugs.”
“You’re such a bad boy. He’s teasing you again. He does not do illegal substances of any sort.”
“I did in college.” Louis insisted.
“Everybody did in college, honey. Doesn’t count,” Rona said.
Susan objected, “I didn’t. Not in college.”
Both Rona and Louis looked at her indulgently.
“We know, dear,” Louis said and patted her hand. “We never held it against you.”
“If this is going to be another of those ‘Susan is so naïve’ evenings, I’ll leave now,” she threatened, smiling. “I don’t have anything to prove when it comes to drugs. Doctors have prescribed so many drugs for me that I’m sure I’ve topped the two of you combined.”
“Trust Susan to find a way to get high legally,” Louis said admiringly.
Rona didn’t play along. She seemed distracted.
Although Louis and Susan did their best as the evening continued, Rona never was fully with them mentally after that phone call. It put a damper on their time together. They were all such old friends that it wasn’t awkward, merely mysterious and worrisome.
Finally they gave up and started walking north toward Rona’s apartment building, with Rona striding ahead, clearly involved in her own thoughts. The original plan had been to go elsewhere after dinner. Without discussing it, they cut the evening short. Rona wouldn’t explain anything now. She’d keep her own counsel until she was ready to talk.
Susan was fine with the slow pace and idle gazing into shop windows. Usually New Yorkers walked fast, as if every block was a marathon and it was time for the last sprint. There was no hurry tonight. She and Louis browsed.
She said, “You should come see how I’ve furnished Rona’s spare apartment.” Seeing how distracted Rona was, she ventured to say sotto voce, “She hates it, but I’m having a ball, and it’s looking marvelous. Except for the holes in the walls.”
“Holes?” Louis wanted to know all about them. She explained.
He said, “I’ll come over tomorrow with some drywall and tools and patch them for you.”
“Thanks, but it’ll have to be some other day. Rona is taking me clothes shopping. She doesn’t want the shame of being seen in public any longer with an obvious tourist,” Susan laughed.
They passed a bookstore. Louis pointed to a display of pink-colored books in the window. He said, “Your stay here is following a classic chick lit plot. Girl comes to big city and gets a job in publishing, has dinner with gay friend—that would be me—and gets a makeover.” He smirked. “Where’s your new love interest? Isn’t that always part of those stories? Romance? Or at least sex?”
“I’m not on the market.”
“I beg to doubt that. Any woman living separately from her husband is available.”
Louis was as cynical as Rona, it seemed. Or as perceptive.
“I’m taking a summer off to improve my chances of launching a career at midlife,” she insisted.
“Sure, honey,” Rona’s voice drifted back to them. She’d seemingly been paying no attention to their chatter, but her cynical words shook Susan. “Tell him your all-purpose lie.”
Louis gave Rona a concerned look. Now it was his turn to whisper. “What’s eating her?”
“I don’t know. She was fine before that phone message.” Except for the other disturbing behavior. Since Louis had cared about Rona forever, there was no need to hide anything. “I told you she got angry about me furnishing the apartment. I’ve never seen her that angry before.”
“That, my dear innocent, was the alcohol talking.”
“Really?”
“Rona’s drinking has gotten heavier over the years, haven’t you noticed?”
“Of course I have. We should do something,” she fretted. “What if Rona becomes a full-fledged alcoholic?” Drinking was so bad for people. It led to all sorts of wrong behavior. Like the irresponsible drunken driving that had killed her parents.
“Uh-uh. Nothing to be done,” Louis shook his head. They were still speaking quietly, so Rona wouldn’t hear. “Rona can handle her life just fine. She’s merely taking the edge off more these days than she used to.”
“The apartment,” she insisted. “The one she lives in. Have you seen it lately?”
Louis nodded. “Crammed with junk.”
“It isn’t normal.”
He shook his head again. “Happens all the time. Alcohol and hoarding go together with being older and single.”
“Really?”
“You’re sounding like a broken record, kiddo. The police find de
ad elderly people in apartments stuffed with crap all the time.”
“Surely it’s not good to sit back and let the drinking and the cluttering get out of hand?”
“We’re her friends, not her parents. It’s about all we can or should do.” Louis added, not unkindly, “Coming from you, the major druggie, isn’t this the pot calling the kettle black?”
***
Louis’ reference to her own doctor-prescribed drug-taking had shut her up effectively, Susan thought later as she got ready for bed and mulled over the evening. Louis was firmly in Rona’s corner to the point of not caring that she was possibly in need of help.
Rona had remained abstracted all the way back, and had parted perfunctorily with them both. Hopefully, it wasn’t serious bad news. If a student was in trouble or Rona’s mother was ill, wouldn’t she say? They’d have to wait to find out. Rona liked to play her cards close to the chest.
Although perhaps it was arrogant to think that Rona should confide in her, or needed help from the likes of her, as Louis had pointed out. Susan had been on so many antidepressants in the last several years that she could have made a fortune in the illegal resale trade—if she hadn’t desperately needed all those drugs to cope. Which she had not done. Not coped. Not coped at all. She was hardly the poster child for stable emotional living.
That was the past, she said to herself firmly. The bad old days were over, and she wasn’t looking to go down bad memory lane anytime soon. Although sometimes she still stumbled. She’d been doing okay until the traumatic events at Nancy’s wedding.
She wanted to concentrate on what was good in life, what was happy. Tomorrow, she and Rona would go in search of fashion she didn’t have the taste to identify on her own. She appreciated Rona taking the trouble to get her up to speed in a hurry. Even if Rona’s wholesale condemnation of her new wardrobe did sting a little.
***
The next morning, Rona called to beg off from the shopping expedition, vaguely citing some forgotten appointment. “I’m sorry, dear.”
Summer in the City Page 4