"No, it's okay. Just leave me alone for a few minutes. Talk about anything else, but leave me alone."
"I have the biggest mouth." Beryl scowled at Andy. "Why don't you throw things at me before I get myself in trouble?"
"Because sometimes you surprise the heck out of me. I wasn't expecting you to start down this path tonight. Poor Sylvie. She wants to be independent and you have to give her trouble. When was the last time you entertained a man in your bedroom?"
Andy started to laugh out loud and snorted through her nose. "I can't believe I just said that. We're giving Beryl trouble for her big mouth and I went too far." She slapped her knee. "I crack myself up."
"Well?" Sylvie asked.
Andy was confused. "Well what?"
"Not you. Beryl. When was the last time you had sex?"
"We're out of wine here," Polly said quietly. "I'm going to need more really soon."
Sylvie jumped up and ran out to the kitchen and returned with two more bottles. "Who is coming to get you all if you're too drunk to drive?"
Lydia finished the wine in her glass and set it firmly down in front of Polly. "I'm spending the night right here on this sofa if I'm too drunk to drive. Screw it. This is my night to have fun." She turned to Beryl. "And just so you know, it hasn't been two months. So there."
Beryl shook her head slowly back and forth. "Nope, not talking about that one anymore." She pushed the glass in front of Polly who was still trying to unscrew the cork. "Lord, Sylvie, next time buy the cheap crap with tops that unscrew. It's so much easier."
"You've neatly avoided the question, old lady," Andy said.
"I didn't hear no damned question."
"You've had sex! With who?"
Polly quickly filled Lydia's glass and then her own. Things were spinning out of control and all she could think was how glad she was that none of this conversation was about her. She was going to sit here quietly and not make eye contact as long as possible.
Lydia took a long drink, winked at Polly and then took another. "This is good stuff," she said. "Fill me back up."
"Ladies, don't you think we should have some food before we finish off these bottles?" Sylvie asked.
Beryl scooped up a hunk of cooling cheese with a cracker and handed it to Lydia. "Eat that and then have another. You don't need to be out of control tonight."
Lydia's eyes flashed. "What if I do? I never get to be out of control. I'm always good ole Lydia. I make sure everyone else is taken care of. I drive you all over, hell, I drive half the old ladies in town all over the place. I get up early and make breakfast. Does anyone care? No! I run all of the meetings that no one else wants to handle. Do I get a thank you? No! If the pastor needs something done, he calls me. If anybody in town needs something taken care of, they call me. I never get to be out of control. And now, damn it, I want to be out of control tonight. Won't you let me?"
"She swore," Beryl stage-whispered. "I think she's serious."
"Of course I am. Do I have to be in control when I'm with my best friends?"
They all shook their heads no.
"Good. Then fill up my glass. And if I pass out, don't bother calling Aaron, because he won't even know that I'm missing." She looked at each of them. "And I don't want to talk about it, so don't ask."
"Got it," Beryl said. "No talking about the big ole elephant in the room. Because no one here is even thinking about him. Am I right?"
More silence as everyone nodded in agreement.
Lydia curled her upper lip. "Well, unless that elephant is shitting on your shoes, I don't want to think about him."
"More swearing." Beryl picked up an empty wine bottle. "Sylvie, do you have enough of this stuff to get us through the night?"
"Ummm, not sure."
"Better start chilling whatever you have left."
"It already is. But dinner will be ready in just a few minutes."
"Oh, thank god!" Beryl exclaimed. "This deteriorated much more quickly than I expected and we need to get her back to normal."
"Me? Normal? This is as normal as you get tonight," Lydia said. She unbuttoned the sweater that she'd been wearing over her blouse, pulled it off her arms and flung it across the room. "If I can't be a little wild and crazy with you girls, what good is my life? My kids don't need me, my husband doesn't want me, and the world just uses me. Drunk is a good place for me to be."
They sat in stunned silence.
"That's right," she said, her tone getting angrier and angrier. "I'm tired of being happy and nice. I want someone to take care of me and it would be nice if I could at least count on a few of you to do that."
"Honey, we'll do whatever it is that you want. If you want to come stay with me for a few days and let me cook for you and do your laundry, just say the word." Beryl moved over to sit beside Lydia on the couch.
"I can pick up some of the errands you run for the old ladies in town," Andy offered.
Sylvie jumped in. "And I'm glad to call Pastor Boehm and offer to help with some of his tasks."
They all looked at Polly.
"I'll do whatever. I could go find a dead body and when Aaron showed up, push him in the creek or something."
Lydia started to laugh. "That sounds perfect." She patted Beryl's knee. "I know that if I need to come stay with you, I'm welcome. Thank you. If I get too drunk tonight, I just might do that. As for the rest of it, I..." She shook her head and looked at the floor. "I do like my life and wouldn't live it any other way. Sometimes I just get tired of it."
"That's what we're here for," Andy said. "You can fall apart on us any time and we won't..."
Polly held up her glass as she interrupted, "We probably won't even remember it tomorrow."
A bell dinged in the kitchen and Sylvie jumped up again. "I have to check on dinner."
"We'll all help. None of us are individually worth much right now, but maybe as a team we can get the meal on the table," Polly said. She looked down at the cheese and crackers and stuck her finger in the melted Brie, scooped some up and popped it into her mouth. "What?" she asked, looking around. "It's not like the rest of you were diving into it."
Lydia buzzed her lips. It didn't work. "They're numb," she said, starting to giggle. "Look, I can't make a raspberry." She tried it again.
Polly put her finger in the raspberry sauce and rubbed it on Lydia's lips. "It's raspberry. Does it help?"
Lydia attempted another buzz of her lips. "Have I lost my mojo? Will I be able to give my babies raspberries? Oh, what have I done?" She finished the third glass of wine and held it out to Polly. "Here, take this. I don't want to drop the glass, but I want it full by the time I sit down at the table."
She grabbed Beryl's arm. "Where the hell's the table? I need to sit down. Polly's bringing me more wine. And by the way, you had sex?"
When they got into the kitchen, Sylvie had pulled a large casserole dish out of the oven. She was reaching in for a second when Lydia slapped her bottom.
"What?" Sylvie asked.
"It was just so cute, sticking out there. I'm sorry. Should I have not done that?"
"Put her in a seat right now," Sylvie commanded Beryl, pointing at the table in the small sunroom just off the kitchen.
"She's right. It is a cute bottom. I'll bet Eliseo thinks so too."
"When did we revert to junior high? Now get going. Are any of you sober enough to help me put these dishes on the table?"
"I haven't finished a single glass," Andy said. "Let me help."
Polly stood in the middle of the kitchen holding two wine bottles and two glasses. "Lydia wants more wine. Should I let her?"
Andy nodded. "Let her do whatever she wants tonight. She hasn't tied one on in years … decades. Just keep filling her glass."
"Okay!" Polly took the glass and the bottles over to the table, filled Lydia's and put it down in front of the woman. "You're kind of a lightweight," she said. "Three glasses of wine and you're soused."
"This is good stuff," Lydia said. "What i
s it?"
Sylvie came over with a hot dish and set it down on a trivet. "It's Secret Woods, of course. Whenever I cater for them, they offer me a bottle of wine. That's why I don't know how much I have here. I just keep bringing it home."
"Eliseo should make you a wine cellar," Beryl said.
"Poof," Lydia interrupted, flicking her hands at Sylvie. "You're a wine cellar."
Sylvie and Andy continued bringing food to the table until Polly stood up. "I feel guilty, I should help."
"No, that's it," Sylvie said. "The bread was the last thing." She uncovered the first dish, revealing a baked cheesy dish. "Spaghetti squash with ricotta and spinach."
Andy drew the foil back from the dish in front of her and Sylvie said, "I'm sorry. More wine. Chicken stuffed with goat cheese and asparagus." She gestured to a gravy boat. "With wine sauce. And cheesy mashed potatoes and am I forgetting anything?"
"Lordie, I hope not. You're going to kill my buzz with this food," Lydia said. "Sit down."
"Oh! I have a salad. It's in the refrigerator."
Lydia laughed. "I don't want no stinking salad. Serve that to skinny wenches who have a husband who will have sex with them. Polly? You want salad."
"That's okay," Polly said.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Beryl said, grinning at her. "You'll just go home and work off everything you eat. You two must be awfully quiet to be having first year married sex with people living in your house."
"I knew this conversation was going to get to me," Polly said. "So really. You aren't going to tell us who you've been having sex with?"
"You're having sex with someone?" Lydia asked, draining her fourth glass of wine. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm not!" Beryl protested.
Andy shrugged a shoulder, "After all of that and now is when you deny it? I think you're the one who is protesting too much."
"How did this turn on me? I was fine with it being about Sylvie and Eliseo."
"Well, I wasn't. I'm the cook and provider of alcohol tonight," Sylvie said. "Deal with it. And tell us about your sex life."
"I'm not talking. Now pass that chicken over here. We need to put food in your mouths and stop them all from babbling."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Polly's head hurt. A lot. And she couldn't figure out why it was so dark. Then she moved her feet. No animals were tucked in, restricting her movement. Where was she?
Then it came back to her. Sort of. Her phone had to be here somewhere. Polly patted around her body and ran out of bed. No. Sofa. She was asleep on Sylvie's new sofa. Good heavens, she hoped she hadn't been drooling on one of those new pillows. She turned over on her side and her cheek rubbed on a smooth ... yes, that was a pillow case. She was still drunk and she didn't feel good. What time was it?
A moan alerted her to the fact that there was someone else in the room. She remembered now. They'd inflated a blow-up bed and Beryl was sleeping on it. Lydia and Andy were upstairs in Jason and Andrew's rooms.
Last night would have been embarrassing if it hadn't been so terribly funny. They'd laughed and polished off several more bottles of wine before Eliseo and the boys arrived. He walked in and saw what was happening and sent the boys up to their rooms to pack for a night and for school the next day. He moved those boys in and out so quickly, they didn't have time to ask questions, even though Polly was sure they would have plenty.
While the boys were packing, he made phone calls. His first was to Henry. Polly shut her eyes again. No wait. She hadn't opened them yet. They felt like they were stuck together. Henry had actually come by on his way home from the shop. He'd asked if she wanted him to drive her home, but they weren't finished with their evening yet and if she remembered right, she'd actually gotten down on her knees in front of him and begged for him to let her stay a while longer.
Oh good heavens, she'd begged him! She hadn't been this drunk since college.
When Eliseo called Aaron, Lydia started to cry. The poor man didn't know what to think of it and oh, good heavens again. Polly had gotten on the phone with Aaron, telling him that there was no dead body, but he was killing his wife. Eliseo grabbed the phone back and made each of the women promise that they wouldn't try to go anywhere. The last call was to Len, who was quite confused with the entire situation. Andy just didn't drink all that much.
The truth was, none of them really drank all that much, but easy access to bottles and bottles of wine, a good meal, and the fact that they really hadn't spent time as a group together in months was a recipe for disaster. Lydia's problems with her husband were the tipping point and to avoid really talking about it, they just kept pouring until Sylvie passed out... at the kitchen table. Andy had barely gotten the plate out from under Sylvie's face. She'd been leaning on her hands, they were all laughing, and then she was gone.
The rest of the evening had been chaos as the women looked for sheets for the sofa. Sylvie had come awake enough to tell them where the air bed was.
Beryl ended up dragging it down the steps and flopped down on the floor with it, starting to blow it up herself. Fortunately, Lydia found the foot pump and they took turns inflating the bed.
Polly tried to open one eye. A street light was shining into the room, but her eye didn't want to stay open. She tried opening the other eye, but since it was pressed into the pillow, she failed and started to giggle.
"Shut up, whoever you are," Beryl said.
"It's me. Polly."
"Shut up, Polly."
"What time is it?"
"Damned if I know. We're too old for this."
"Uh huh. Where's my phone?"
"You were all worried about it last night. You kept trying to call Henry to tell him to take care of the animals. And then you had to call him to tell him that you loved him. And then you had to call him to remind him to take Rebecca to school. We finally had to take it away from you."
"Where is it?"
You cried when we wouldn't let you have it. Pat the table in front of you. It has to be right there. You threatened to post pictures of all of us on Insty-book or whatever it is that you youngsters use."
Polly felt for the table and began to pat the top of it until her hand landed on something that felt familiar. It was her phone. She swiped it open and shut her eyes tightly against the bright light.
"Turn it off!" Beryl moaned. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I want to know what time it is."
Polly opened her eyes to a squint and peered at the phone's screen. "It's four fourteen."
"Okay, so it's four fourteen. What does that mean to you?"
"Nothing."
"We don't have to be awake. Shut that thing off, shut your eyes and leave me alone."
"I have to pee."
"You're in your mid-thirties, you don't have to pee. I have to pee." There was rustling as Beryl moved on the air bed. "Damn it, why aren't you in this bed on the floor. How are these old legs supposed to haul me up in time so I don't wet my pants? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"
"Do you need a hand? I think I can help."
"No. Leave me alone." There was a thud. "Crap. I'm on the floor."
"Do you need help now?"
"I need some light. Can you turn that damned phone back on?"
Polly swiped her phone open again and found the flashlight app, then shone it around the room. The place was a complete mess. She finally found Beryl on the opposite side of the air bed. "Are you okay?"
"Get yourself over here and help me up. This is ridiculous."
"I can't believe you fell out of bed." Polly was trying not to laugh. Her head really hurt.
"I can't believe I didn't wet myself. Will you get over here now?"
"Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm not hurt, but there isn't a limb on my body that is capable of independent movement right now. This is why I don't drink."
"I feel like I might still be drunk."
"Ya think? We stopped four or five hours ago and at that point none of us could remember how
much we'd had."
Polly bent down and tried to reach under Beryl's armpits to lift her up."
"What in the hell are you doing?" Beryl cried out. "You weirdo. Just give me your hand."
"I didn't know how broken you were."
"Not that broken. And you're going to make me laugh. We don't want me laughing right now. Trust me on that." She took Polly's proffered hand and lifted herself to a standing position. "Look at that. Steady as a ... nope, not steady at all. Let's find that bathroom."
"It's right through here." Polly shone her flashlight ahead of them so they could walk, and turned the light on in the bathroom.
Beryl weaved backwards and then forward into the room. "That's too bright. They should make drunk woman lighting levels. Stay here. If I don't come back, break the door down."
"Don't lock the door. I don't want to wake everyone upstairs," Polly said.
Beryl leaned backwards and yelled, "Hey, upstairs drunks. We're up and peeing. Do you want to join us?"
"Beryl!"
"Well, if you hadn't gotten me up I might have wet the bed. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if someone wet a bed upstairs?"
"No one is wetting any beds. Now go do your thing."
"Think she's got aspirin in here? And water? I should probably rehydrate. We should both rehydrate. Imagine that. Tomorrow morning when we all get up, you and I will be just fine and they'll all be hung over."
"Go to the bathroom."
"Right." Beryl leaned into Polly. "I really gotta pee."
"This is the right place. And will you hurry? Because me too."
Beryl went into the bathroom and shut the door, then started singing "Old black water, keep on rollin,' Mississippi moon, won't you keep on shinin' on me."
"What is she doing?" Polly jumped a foot to the side when Lydia asked the question right beside her.
"She's peeing. You scared me to death. What are you doing down here?"
"I have to go to the bathroom and Andy is using the toilet upstairs."
"Well, I'm next."
"Well, if it rains, I don't care, don't make no difference to me."
"You're not helping, Beryl. Stop singing that song. It has too much water in it." Polly said.
Pages of the Past (Bellingwood Book 9) Page 11