“You’re not going to ask me for fashion advice?” Simon asks.
“Of course not. But you’re the guy who knows someone in every business. I thought maybe you know a girl, you know?”
“Well, my sister’s a hairdresser, and she’s a makeup artist. When can I pick you up?”
“Simon, really? It’s Saturday. Won’t she be busy?”
“Yeah, she’s probably busy, but I’m her brother, Poppy. Besides, I would pay money to see this. Not because you need makeup, but because the idea makes me laugh. It’s the antithesis of you.”
“Well, join the makeover club. I have the feeling Lilly and Morgan will welcome me back into their fold, and they’ll see that really I’m no different with makeup than without.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour. I’m just mowing the lawn.”
“You mow your own lawn?”
“Why wouldn’t I mow my own lawn?”
“I just thought you had a staff or something.”
“All the more reason you need to get to know me better, Poppy.”
“So are you upset I’m going to the shower with Jeff?” I probe, looking for a little harmless jealously on his part.
“I figure the sooner you get that ridiculous notion out of your system, the better off we’ll be.”
I bite down my smile. Looking down at the wrappings surrounding me and feeling my hair, which is not brushed and full of split ends, I realize I’m not exactly the picture of health at the moment. What if his sister thinks I’m human vermin?
“I’ll be ready in an hour.” I hang up, knocking the cat off my lap, picking up the foils and throwing them in the recycling. I, Poppy Clayton, am getting a makeover. The concept makes me laugh out loud. Safflower, a huge orange-and-white tabby, meows at me to show her disinterest, which only makes me laugh all the louder.
I found Safflower outside an auto-parts shop. She was drenched in motor oil and it took a half a bottle of Dawn to clean her up. That’s right, no organic soap would touch her. From that day forward, I vowed she’d never know anything but natural oil, and so her name, Safflower, came to be. Her full name is Expeller-Pressed Safflower Oil. Safflower for short. She’s about as slippery as oil, without a cuddly gene in her.
“Will you even recognize me this afternoon, Safflower?”
She meows, moves into a patch of sunlight on the hardwood, and collapses into a long, lazy Saturday stretch.
I’m heading to the shower when my phone trills again. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and I pick up. “Dr. Poppy.”
“Poppy, it’s Dad.”
“Dad, where are you? After that weird reunion, I haven’t heard boo from you.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about the way we left the house. Sharon was finished living there, and we just had to get out of town before our temporary housing was gone. Packing up an entire life is more trouble than it’s worth. So far, anyway.”
“Why were you living in temporary housing?” I mean, I know he wasn’t in the house, but I never thought to question why he wasn’t in Arizona yet.
“Didn’t you see the leak in the roof?”
“No, Dad. A friend took care of it for me.”
“Well, it ruined Sharon’s coffee table. She was thinking of filing an insurance claim.”
“What about an insurance claim for the leaking roof?” I ask, trying to keep the duh from my question. While I love my father, his idea of maintenance is to allow something to fall apart and find someone to pay for the new one.
“That’s homeowner’s insurance,” he tells me. “You would have had to file the claim.” My father can’t hide his bitterness. Admittedly, what my mother did to him—emasculating any claim he had to their house—was not the wisest thing as a wife, but the fact is there wouldn’t be a house if she hadn’t. She loved him despite his downfall, and I suppose I must too—and at the same time be understanding of his position.
“Daddy, I would have to have known there was a leaky roof to do that.”
“Poppy, don’t get angry. We’ve kept that house up for two decades. It’s just in need of major repairs now. The ocean air is hard on any structure, darling.”
My father is a jolly man who’s never given a second thought to money. In his mind, it flies down from the sky and rescues him at the last moment. Somehow he’s managed to escape bankruptcy, and most bills when they come due, for an entire lifetime. He sells Amway, Avon, and a litany of health supplements, and he has always managed to get by. I don’t know how he does it, but he drives a Lexus the size of an oil freighter. Sharon drips in diamonds that Morgan tells me are all D in color, and nearly flawless, and Lilly tells me Sharon’s shoes are worth a mint. Like I say, I don’t know how they do it, because I’ve never really seen my father work, but they always manage to come out smelling like roses.
“I’m not angry, Dad.” The truth is I can never get mad at my father. He’s irresponsible. I dress like I’m in 1970. It’s just who we are by nature. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Arizona now. Sharon and I got into our condo just this morning, and already we’ve been told we’re not allowed to move in on a Saturday. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“They must have a homeowner’s association. They like moving to be done quietly so the rest of the neighbors aren’t affected. My condo made me do that too. It’s ridiculous, but that’s when people are home, and in big complexes, they argue that would ruin nearly every weekend for homeowners.”
“Sharon’s been yelling at the manager all morning. We bought most of the furniture new, so we just had to wait on the delivery trucks. That could have been anyone here who bought a new couch. Some people don’t have enough time on their hands. We found out you can’t drape a towel over the balcony either. What kind of place did we—”
“Tom!” I hear Sharon screech.
“I’m on the phone!” he yells back.
“The coffee table is here. He says it’s COD!” Sharon yells.
“I have to run, Poppy. Listen, the foster program is going to call you about us. Turns out we can’t just take Sharon’s sister’s kids without some paperwork. Just tell them we’d make great parents, and I’ll talk to you soon. Let me know if I can help you on the house at all. Love you, honey!” He hangs up on me. Very unlike my father, but I know he’ll find a way to charm me back into his good graces soon enough.
“Is it any wonder I’m weird?” I ask my mirror. I hope Simon’s contractor knows about the roof. This is going to cost me a fortune. My mother didn’t leave that house to my father for a reason. She signed a prenup long before they were fashionable because she loved a man who loved money. I love my father intensely, but somehow I can’t help but hope that COD coffee table doesn’t arrive on my doorstep with a note of how to ship it back to him. My dad would give you the shirt off his back, but you probably paid for it.
I enter my bathroom and turn on the tabletop waterfall that makes it sound like the spa. Then I start the bath, pour eucalyptus bath gel into the water, and let the mentholated steam fill the room. I’m curious if Simon will notice I used something different. I light a few candles, grab a Natural Health magazine, and step into the bathtub (one footed—yes, the cast is waterproof, but it takes forever to dry out). I ate chocolate. I didn’t run. I’m getting a makeover. Today, I enter normality. Even if it’s a brief tour to show my friends I can play nicely.
I close my eyes and let the scalding water embrace me. I think about the chlorine warnings that other natural health doctors give their patients about the hot water—an excess of the chemical chlorine can enter your skin through osmosis. This is a rule I never had any trouble avoiding. There is nothing better than relaxing in a bathtub and water-logging a magazine, lulling yourself into a pure and blissful state. Sometimes, people can go overboard.
After reading through the magazine, I toss it over the edge of the tub and allow myself to enter into a state of total leisure, and not for the first time I think this feels really good. This is how the oth
er half lives. But naturally, I can’t stay here. A control freak is in a constant state of motion and this moment comes but ever so briefly.
The doorbell rings.
Sometimes even more briefly than one hopes for. I look at the handmade rock clock on the wall and realize it’s been over an hour. Simon is here, and I am definitely not ready for my close-up.
chapter 20
Miles run: 0
Organic chocolates consumed: Never mind
Desperation scale: 0
I get out of the tub quickly, which proves to be detrimental to my current state of cleanliness. My cast isn’t nearly as agile as I would hope, and in an instant I am splayed out on the ceramic tile, buck naked, listening to the doorbell.
“Just a minute,” I wail.
In all my makeover images, this was never a part of it. I grab the side of the tub, and pull myself upright. I have cat hair stuck to my legs now. So attractive. My cell phone rings, and I look at it wondering if I should answer. Naturally, it’s Simon. “Hello!” I try to sound calm.
“Poppy, are you all right in there?”
“I’m having a little trouble with my cast. I’ll be with you shortly.”
“What cast?”
“I have a stress fracture. It’s a long story.” Right then, I realize how long it’s been since I’ve seen Simon, and that just isn’t like him. “Can you give me another ten minutes?” Why couldn’t they just give me one of those buckling casts? Oh, wait. Because I ticked off the doctor, and he was determined to make my life as miserable as possible.
“Take your time. I’ll go out and listen to the game in the car. My sister is expecting us, though, so hurry a little, will you?”
Simon’s going to think I’m high maintenance. And I could not be less high maintenance if I were a brand-new Toyota. “I’ll be out as soon as I can, Simon. Sorry about this.”
I punch the button and dip myself back into the tub on my good leg, washing off the scattered cat hair. I just washed this floor yesterday! That cat must roll around on the cold tile as part of her hourly ritual.
I pull on a skirt. Yes, it’s one of my mother’s. I have many more of them. Lilly just took my favorite one, and with this cast, it’s by far the easiest thing to handle. I brush out my hair, throw on a T-shirt, and slide into my Clarks clog. I’m ready.
Opening the door, I can see it’s a typical spring day in California, and the sun blinds me as I look for Simon’s car on the street. I spot him in a red Prius. I would have never figured him for a hybrid man. I would have thought Hummer or two-seated sports car. It’s strange that I never noticed, but he usually comes at the height of my workday, and I guess I never cared enough to look.
“Sorry,” I say as I get into his car.
“What happened?”
“I had a little bathtub incident.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, sorry I missed that.”
“You really aren’t. It wasn’t pretty.”
Simon starts up his car, and we pull into traffic. “My sister’s in Belmont. I hope you don’t mind the drive, but I thought it would give us a chance to get caught up on the house.”
“I haven’t seen it since we were there. It’s just been a busy week, and—”
“And what?”
“I’m not really all that anxious to go. My dad called me today and said the roof leaked.”
“Poppy, I had everything inspected. It’s all on a list, and the contractor is taking care of it.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask him. “We’ve never had any kind of relationship that would warrant that kind of help. I don’t understand.”
He grins. “No, you wouldn’t.”
I decide it’s best just not to have this conversation.
“How are you going to get your hair done? Are you going to rely on my sister’s advice?”
I shrug. “Well, it’s my best friend’s wedding in two weeks. I don’t want anything too drastic.”
“Just tell her that, and you’ll be fine. Listen, I’m glad you called today because there’s something I need to tell you in the interest of full disclosure.”
I certainly don’t like the sound of this. I shut my eyes instinctively, waiting for the shoe to fall. He’s married—eight times over. He’s got a fiancée waiting for him in Hawaii. He used to be a girl. (Okay, nix that one. He’s far too big to have ever been a girl and his fingers are the right length. He has the most manly hands I’ve laid eyes on.) He’d like to me to pay back the housing costs in ‘favors.’ My mind runs amuck.
“My mother’s in Hawaii. She’s sinking into dementia, and I have to get there sooner rather than later so I’m heading out on Monday and meeting with a realtor. I need to find a place to house her with a nurse, have room for my sister to visit, and for me to have my own life.”
“Your mother?” I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “You’re not going to Hawaii to play golf?”
“I hope to play golf, of course, but my mother is there, and she’s barely remembering my sister and me as it is. I thought I should tell you I’m leaving before my sister did.”
“I don’t understand—why is that a secret?”
“My father—” He stops. “Well, my father’s been looking for her for a long time. Let’s just say he wasn’t very nice to her in our youth, and she left here after the divorce. He doesn’t know where she is, and we’ve sort of allowed him to believe she’s gone on to greener pastures. Which of course, she has. They’re just tropical in nature, rather than heavenly.”
“Oh my goodness, I don’t believe it. You actually have a weirder family life than I do.”
Simon laughs. “I’m sure my dad knows the truth, but he’s married again, and we just figure it’s best to keep things the way they are. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Mom’s remembering the past like it was yesterday, and since he still lives in the same house—”
“You’re worried she’ll call him.”
“I’m worried she’ll call him and think she’s still in that marriage. She doesn’t have access to a phone right now, and she has great care, but it’s something my sister and I want to take care of ourselves. She was the kind of mother who protected us against all odds. I think we owe her the same dignity.”
Suddenly, Simon’s taking care of me doesn’t seem all that far-fetched. I can’t find words that will offer any kind of peace, so I grab his hand off the steering wheel and clutch it tightly over the parking-brake handle. I’d like to say this is purely to comfort him, but upon reaching for his hand, I’m not so sure.
“My sister wouldn’t have told you about my mother, but she would have told you that I’m leaving Monday.”
“This Monday!”
“Relax. I’ll be back, and I’ll make sure I’m watching the contractor. Though he’s a buddy of mine, and I can’t imagine he’d do anything less than the best.”
Simon leaving? As I look at his profile, I realize I haven’t been truthful with myself about my feelings in a very, long time.
How did I not know?
I want to say something, but every time I open my mouth to speak, I just hear a sputtering sound.
After a long, silent drive, Simon pulls up in front of his sister’s salon. He stops the car, grabs my hand tighter, and looks into my eyes with such force I have to close my eyes. “It’s been an absolute pleasure knowing you and offering you a serious commitment.” He smiles with a twinkle in his eye. “You be sure and invite me to your and the doc’s wedding.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to say you have my blessing. I just want you happy in life.” He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“People always say that. It’s not true, Simon. I don’t believe it’s true for a minute. Not if you really cared about me. You said earlier you could wait while I lost interest in Jeff.”
He gets out of the car, comes around, and opens my door, offering me his hand. I grab it a bit too gustily and stand
face to face, willing him to kiss me. I move in closer and shut my eyes. I do everything but pucker, but I hear him slam the door. “Spare me the pity kiss, Poppy. Unlike Chloe, I’m worth more than fifty dollars. My sister’s the blonde inside. I’ll pick you up in a few hours.”
Simon gets back into the car, and before I know it, he’s backing out and his Prius is tearing off into traffic. Someone honks at me to get out of the parking space, and I startle and stumble to the sidewalk.
I wish I’d brought a set of crutches. I’m suddenly feeling very woozy and wondering what in the world I set myself up for. The man redid my house; is that not enough for me? No, I have to call him and ask for a makeover, then make a complete idiot out of myself and throw myself at him. Unconvincingly. Leave it to me to finally make a pass at a guy, and not only does he reject me like yesterday’s salad, but he doesn’t even believe me. I’m that wilted.
I wobble into the salon, and everyone turns to look at me. Yes, I suppose I do need a makeover. So what of it?
A blonde woman approaches me. She’s big like Simon, but the absence of shoulders on her makes for an extremely obvious bust line. It’s almost like her A frame makes an arrow pointing to the area.
“Are you Poppy?”
I nod. “Alma?”
“Come on in. We’ll get your hair washed.” She walks around me. “When’s the last time you cut it?”
“It’s been awhile.” I shrug.
“Have you ever cut it?”
“Yeah, it’s just been awhile.”
She rolls her eyes. “I guess. And I guess you’re not into plucking either?”
“Plucking?”
“Shaping your eyebrows so they don’t look like two orange caterpillars on your face. It’s a shame to hide those blue eyes.”
I instinctively reach for my eyebrows. Orange caterpillars? Is it just me, or is that kind of rude?
“I’m open to most anything, except I don’t want to dye my hair.”
Alma laughs at this. “Honey, do you know how much of my business is trying to get this color? You can’t get a perfect red like this from the bottle. Trust me, we’re leaving that alone.”
Calm, Cool, and Adjusted Page 21