by Phoebe Fox
The group had come together.
Sherman continued, drawing my attention back. “And she might be...Well, I don’t want to say perfect for me, but I think she kind of understands my...you know...” He nodded toward his sandaled feet, coloring slightly. He trailed off, dipping his head, but I suspected he wasn’t through sharing.
“What makes you say that, Sherman?” I prompted.
“Oh...well...” He looked up at me and I nodded for him to go on. “So, uh, I was home alone, working on a wiring project on the front porch. And I had these zip ties sitting on the table, right? And I’m looking at them and thinking, ‘They use these all the time on TV to tie people up. But look at them! How effective can they really be?’”
Sherman looked over at me and shrugged, and I bit the inside of my lip, nodding for him to continue. Antonio gave a snorting laugh; like me, I thought he suspected where this story was going.
“So I thought I’d, uh, you know...just sort of test the theory,” Sherman went on hesitantly. “I was barefoot—of course—so I put a zip-tie around my two big toes and pulled it tight.” He looked around at the group. “And I thought, Geez, I can totally see why these things are used by police and kidnappers. They don’t give you any slack at all—and they don’t break. It actually felt like it tightened the harder I tried to get free. Like one of those Chinese finger-trap thingies?” A couple of people nodded, more than a few trying to hide their grins. “So I, uh, reached for the needle-nose pliers, but they wouldn’t cut the tie, no matter how hard I tried. So I figured I’d just crawl inside to find some scissors, and I’m kind of crab-walking across the porch toward the front door when, uh...I hear footsteps coming up the porch stairs.”
This was too much for Antonio. “Oh, shit! No, you didn’t!” he burst out. A few of the women giggled.
“Well, yeah,” Sherman admitted. “And then I hear this pretty, soft voice say behind me, ‘I can see you’re tied up right now.’”
The room exploded—even I couldn’t help laughing.
Sherman was grinning, despite his clear embarrassment. “And I turn around and this beautiful woman says, ‘Hi. I’m from the Democratic Party of Florida.’” He sighed out a weak laugh. “There was really no disguising what was going on—I’m scooting on my butt across the porch, half hogtied with this black zip-tie just obvious as anything around my big toes.” He was bright red now, but he didn’t stop. “I figured she’d go running for the hills. But instead she sits down on my wicker sofa like we’re about to share high tea, and she says, ‘I always wondered if those things work the way you see in the movies.’ And I swear to God, you guys, I just about fell in love. I kind of leaned back against my front door like I was just lounging around on my porch, and said, casual as all get-out, ‘You know, turns out they do.’”
Antonio’s roar of laughter was the cue for the rest of the group to join in again. “My man!” he exclaimed. “Way to play it!”
“So we have a date for next weekend,” Sherman finished proudly, and Antonio slapped him on the back so hard the smaller man nearly came out of his chair. Sherman’s grin nearly split his head as he leaned over to lay the claw back in the center of the floor while the rest of the group offered up congratulations.
“This is good to hear, Sherman,” I said. “It sounds like she may be pretty accepting of...well, the things you like.” He bobbed his head, still smiling like a jack-o’-lantern. “But more important,” I went on, “it sounds like you are. You didn’t try to hide anything from her.”
“Uh, that would have been a little difficult under the circumstances,” Dina quipped, and the group chuckled.
I acknowledged her with a glance and a smile. “True, Dina. But you went with the situation, Sherman. You didn’t let shame or fear hold you back. That’s pretty huge.”
“Yeah.” Sherman’s eyebrows lifted, as if he hadn’t realized it. “I guess it is. Huh.” His smile was back, this time self-satisfied. Antonio held up a fist and Sherman bumped it with his own.
Quick as a cat Antonio leaned over and grabbed the claw. “Okay, I got something, you guys. I met this girl.”
A few groans sounded. Carolyn rolled her eyes. Rebecca sat back in her seat, arms crossed, fixing Antonio with a hard stare. I don’t know why I’d expected different, but my heart sank at his announcement. Lately I’d thought he was growing up a bit.
“No, no, hang on—hang on!” he blurted, holding out a hand as if to keep us at bay. “I met this girl at the auto parts store. She asked if I knew anything about lube jobs.”
More groans. I sighed and leaned back, wondering how far to let Antonio go before I stopped what generally turned into a Penthouse Forum letter.
“I know!” Antonio said, eyes practically bugging out of his head. “It was like God was just giving me candy! But, you guys...” He sat up straight, claw forgotten in his lap, and held his hands out like Christ on the cross. “I didn’t fuck her! That girl remained unfucked by me!” he trumpeted. I sat up straighter as he caught Carolyn’s eye and winked. “Sorry, Carolyn—unfornicated.”
Carolyn shot him a thumbs-up with a wink. Antonio lifted one hand and held it palm-out toward Sherman. “Come on, pal. Up top,” he encouraged, and Sherman, grinning, slapped his palm with his own. The tension around the room seemed to unwind, and I heard a few murmurs of congratulations, encouragement—and surprise, all of which echoed my own feelings.
“I coulda fucked—sorry—fornicated with her,” Antonio went on, his tone that of a man bragging about a sexual conquest, rather than that he hadn’t made one. “That girl was hot to trot, and she was ready for Moretti, if you know what I’m saying.” He nudged Sherman with an elbow.
“We all know what you’re saying, Antonio,” Sherman offered dryly, to a few chuckles.
“But you know what I did?” he went on. “I pictured you guys instead, and it was like a cold shower. No offense—I’m not saying you guys are a wood killer. I just mean I knew all a you were rooting for me. It was kinda like Popeye’s spinach—it gave me this burst of strength, and I said, ‘No, thanks, honey—not today.’” He tossed the claw into the center of the circle, then spread his arms wide again—et voilà—meeting every single person’s gaze in turn as they offered up encouragement.
In the hubbub I nearly missed what happened next.
At first I thought she was collapsing out of her chair; it took me a second to realize that Sheila Amherst had dropped forward as if succumbing to gravity and grabbed the claw, which she was now holding up, arm out and eyes wide, like a slightly terrified Statue of Liberty.
“Can I share? I’d like to share.”
I didn’t know if anyone else had heard her over the din of approval directed at Antonio, but when the room went dead silent I knew they had. Every head turned to Sheila, and she recoiled like a poked turtle.
Next to her, Dina Jones put a hand on Sheila’s leg and said gently, “It’s okay, honey. Go on.”
Compassion...from Dina?
But Sheila was staring at her as if Dina were the Oracle at Delphi. Dina gave her an encouraging smile, then reached up and smoothed the other girl’s hair back from her face and behind one ear.
Revealing a shocking sight: Sheila looked gorgeous. I heard a few gasps around the room. Her eyes were a stunning light hazel, played up by mascara and plum shadow across her lids. Her cheekbones were high and defined, and her full mouth shone with a swipe of light peach gloss. Now that she wasn’t drawn into herself in her chair, hiding behind her hair, I noticed her wardrobe had changed too—instead of her usual browns and beiges, Sheila had on a mint green top that draped softly at her collarbone and skimmed what turned out to be a slim little shape she’d been hiding under formless clothes. Someone had given this girl a makeover, and judging by the way Dina was gazing proudly upon the girl as if she were her own creation, I thought I had a pretty good idea who.
Sheila took a visible breath, blowing it out as if she were taking a Breathalyzer test. Then she gave a tiny nod, as if to herself, and said in her rabbit voice, “Okay.” And then stronger: “Okay. Well, hi, everyone. I’m Sheila—I don’t know if you remember.”
“Of course we remember, sweetie,” Carolyn said, offering her a kind smile.
“Right, okay. Well, so...Tom and I broke up.” There were some murmurs around the circle, soft sounds of sympathy, and Sheila waved them away. “I did it. I’m the one,” she said, and my eyebrows shot into my hairline. Judging from the expressions on everyone else’s faces, I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t expected Sheila to be the engine of their breakup.
“We had a big fight.” She was almost whispering now. “And he told me...he said some things...awful things. And I told him I knew he didn’t mean them...that I wanted to help...that I loved him—” Her voice gave out and she stopped, tipping her head down.
Dina leaned close, placing a hand on the girl’s back. “You’re doing great,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her, but her tone was so fond and kind that I wanted to reach over and hug her. Hug Dina.
Sheila’s head rose ever so slightly toward Dina, and she nodded, plunging a hand under the curtain of her hair to dash away tears. “I told him I loved him,” she repeated in a stronger voice. “And he...he laughed.”
An audible gasp echoed around the room, and Antonio let out a loud groan. My hand flew to my heart.
“It turns out we weren’t really...Well, he didn’t think we were a couple. I was just some...this girl he slept with. He said that was all it was. He said he’d never be with someone like me because...um, because...” Tears were still running down her face, but now Sheila seemed not to notice them. Or to care.
She’d stopped talking and it seemed she wasn’t able to go on. The rest of the group sat silent, patiently waiting for Sheila to collect herself and continue. But she had curled back into herself, her hair falling over her face as she cast her eyes down to the floor—or to hell, where I hoped her thoughtless ex would end up—and I knew she was shutting down again.
I stood to walk over and take the claw from Sheila—take the spotlight off of her that was clearly making her feel worse—but Dina caught my eye and held up a staying hand. Not as an order, to my surprise, but a plea. I acknowledged it with a dip of my head and sat back down as Dina scooted her chair a little closer to Sheila’s. She reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of tissues, taking out one and handing it to the other girl. It disappeared behind her hair.
“He told her she was too plain,” Dina said in a strong voice, looking around the circle at each one of us. “That she was ugly. This girl—too ugly for that overweight, overblown, overconfident asshole.” As she spoke she again brushed Sheila’s hair away from her face, and gently tipped up her head with a finger under the girl’s chin. “Does this look plain to you?”
Sheila’s eyes darted around the room, but never lit on anyone in the circle.
“Sheila, you’re beautiful,” Betty spoke up.
Beside her Elisa nodded fiercely. “Gorgeous. But you were even without the makeup. And I’m a lesbian, so you can take that to the bank.”
There were a few chuckles.
Carolyn, Rebecca, and Sherman voiced their agreement. Sheila was meeting their gazes now, and I saw the beginnings of belief on her face.
“Honey, you are a hot little cookie,” Antonio said fervently. “If I met you out somewhere, I promise you I’d take you somewhere we could be alone and I’d—”
“Okay, Antonio, she gets the idea,” I broke in quickly. He meant well, but I didn’t think Sheila was ready for a full-on Antonio compliment. “Sheila, you are a beautiful woman,” I said sincerely. “With or without makeup, as Elisa said. Why do you think it was so easy to believe Tommy when he told you otherwise, when he compared you to his ex-girlfriend and made you feel inadequate?”
She shrugged, shooting another glance to Dina, who nodded at her.
“Um, I guess because...that’s what my mom always said?” Sheila ventured, as if hazarding an answer to a test question she was unsure of.
A daughter formed her self-image first in the reflection from her mother’s eyes. I thought of my own mom, who may never have made me feel anything I did was “enough”—but it was because she thought I was capable of absolutely anything. “Your mother said you weren’t pretty?”
“Well...no. She just said that it was too bad I wasn’t smart, because I’d never get by on my looks.”
Carolyn recoiled like she’d been stabbed. “What on earth kind of parent says something like that to her child?” she bit out.
“A crappy one,” Betty shot back. “One who’s too caught up in her own bullshit to see the wonderful qualities in her own kid.”
“Amen, my friend,” Carolyn replied, gingerly slapping Betty’s outstretched palm.
I realized that these two opposite women had grown close over the course of the meetings, a friendship as solid as it was unlikely.
As had Dina and Sheila, apparently. Dina had an arm on the other girl’s shoulder and was talking softly to her: “I told you, Sheila. It’s your mom who has the problem—that has nothing to do with you.”
“Do you see what Dina is saying?” I asked Sheila. “That your mom’s words—and Tom’s—stem from whatever battles they’re fighting inside themselves, and aren’t a true reflection of you?”
“I guess,” she said. “But when it’s your own mom...you know...I love her.”
I thought again of my mom. “Of course you do,” I said. “But you don’t have to let her define you. You can love her despite that—focusing on her good qualities instead of whatever her shortcomings might be. That’s how we’d like to think a parent should love her child, but we’re all only human,” I said. “She has her own challenges, and just because she may not deal with them in a healthy way, that doesn’t mean you can’t. It doesn’t mean you have to define yourself by whatever warped view she may not have learned how to readjust yet. And you certainly don’t have to stick around and listen to someone who’s always cutting you down.”
Dina arced a glance over at me, then back at Sheila. “Well, this time she didn’t,” she said proudly. “She told him to suck it.”
“I didn’t...” Sheila protested. “That’s not how I—”
Dina patted her on the shoulder. “She said it nicer, because she’s a nicer person. A good person,” she said, looking directly at Sheila now. “She kicked that asswipe to the curb—finally. And this time she’s not going to take him back—right?” Dina sounded almost pleading as she took Sheila’s hand in her own grip. “Because you know you are kind, and pretty, and smart. You’re awesome. And you deserve better than a dick like Tom.”
A few of the group tittered, Antonio clapped loudly, and Sheila cracked a smile. “Okay. I’m going to believe you. For now,” she said to Dina.
And that was all any of us could ask for, I thought. Sherman’s new love interest might tank on the first date. Next time Antonio got offered a woman on a platter, he might not say no. Sheila might never fully believe in her own beauty and power and that she deserved more than she’d gotten from men, and she might wind up back with Tom regardless of Dina’s best mama-bear efforts. But for now they were all taking steps forward.
Me included. My heart felt like it had been torn out of me this week as I’d realized that Ben and I were truly through—and that so much of it was my own doing. And yet I was letting myself go through it. Feeling what I felt, even when it felt like crap, and reaching out to the people I loved—Sasha, Stu...my mom. And part of me was tending that little tiny spark of hope that Adelaide had given me, trying to keep it from going out completely.
I didn’t know what might happen in my future. But I was learning to be okay with whatever it was. We
all were.
They were little triumphs, but they were triumphs nonetheless.
And at least for now, as Sheila said...that was enough.
Reader’s Discussion Guide
1. Brook finds herself torn between two very different men in the story. What is it that she is attracted to in each of them? Why, when she seems to think Ben is perfect for her, is she still drawn to Chip?
2. Is Brook really confused about what she wants, or does she just say that as a reason to keep things casual with Ben? If so, why?
3. Brook has a complicated relationship with her mother. Why do they seem to push each other’s buttons so easily? Despite her frequent acrimony toward her mom, Brook still seems to crave her approval. Why is this?
4. When Brook tries to reach out to her mom, she often feels that her mother’s reactions ruin her good intentions. Do you agree that Vivian is often the root of the problem? If not, how does Brook contribute to their difficult relationship?
5. Does Vivian love her daughter? Is she a good parent? Discuss her strengths and shortcomings as a mother.
6. Is Sasha and Stu’s relationship healthy? What is it based on?
7. Although Brook is happy that Sasha has found love with Stu, she’s a bit uncomfortable that her friend is now the one in a seemingly healthy relationship, while Brook is the one floundering. Why is that hard for Brook?
8. Brook feels left out of the relationship between her brother and her best friend. Does that factor into her actions? In what way?
9. Was what Brook did with Chip cheating? Why or why not?