"You're welcome, Maggie,” Molly countered. “And thanks for the recipe."
"That was you who called the store the other day?” Maggie asked.
"Yes, it was. It's probably time we added a veggie burger to our menu."
"What are you going to call it?” Laura asked. “A Vicious Vegan?"
"On a bed of one hundred percent organic cotton,” Claudia added.
"Enough already!” Ginny said. “If we have to eat these humungous things, the least you could do is join us and eat your lunch!"
Holly stood up, held her burger high, and yelled, “Okay, on the count of three, everybody. One ... two ... three!"
Astonishingly, everyone, including me, took a bite. I knew my throat was preparing to set a roadblock to my stomach, but in the nick of time, I realized it tasted okay, rather good actually. I voluntarily chewed it, and it slid where it belonged, unimpeded. “Pretty good,” I said and prepared for another bite of what was once hot-off-the-grill.
The rest of the group seemed to concur, and the feasting began.
Molly kissed both Ginny and Kris goodbye, saying she needed to get back to the bar. Everyone thanked her, and the ruckus promptly resumed upon her departure.
With a mouth full of food, Alison said, “I remember a time when my Home Ec was actually combined with my lunch. We didn'tproperly seal a baked Alaska, and the ice cream melted all over the oven. The b-word of a teacher made us miss lunch to clean the oven. Anybody else have a horror story?"
"I remember one,” Laura offered.
I quickly teased, “Aw, Laura, you wanted to be a domestic goddess? How sweet!"
"Actually, I wanted one,” she corrected with a smirk.
"Did you get one?” Susan asked, and it dawned on me that she was still intrigued by what had happened in our gym class.
"Just the goddess,” she replied and leaned in to give Holly a kiss.
"Oh no, don't let them kiss!” Alison said, hiding her laughter behind an overused napkin.
"Speaking of b-words,” Laura said and cleared her throat. “Doesn't anyone want to hear my Home Ec story?"
"I do, hon,” Holly cajoled. “Go ahead."
"Well, after this big to-do, it's not very funny anymore."
"Just tell the damn story, Laura! We need something to do while these mad cow women take their own sweet time,” I barked.
"Fine. We were making brownies. I bet this happens in every Home Ec class. This guy in our group decided it would be funny to toss a nickel bag of pot into the batter—"
"Oh, and I bet you perp-walked his ass to the principal's office, huh?” I teased. “Did you collar him?"
"No ... I ate the brownies."
"You didn't!” Susan said, coming nowhere near concealing her shock that the lawful one would do such a thing.
“When did you decide to become a cop then?"
"AfterI got perp-walked to the principal's office,” she said, smiling as Susan gasped. “Just kidding. Actually, I was in college when I made the decision."
"Can I be nosy and ask what made you decide?"
Laura got quiet for a moment, and then she said. “It's one of those things they should have taught in school so we can all grow up to be—What is it you keep saying, Claudia?"
"Strong, healthy women,” she replied with an affirmative nod of her head.
"There was a girl in my dorm who got raped. I remember feeling so angry,” she recalled. “But I never sawher get angry. She just shrank away from everything, pulled inside—like there was something wrong with her instead what had happened to her. Eventually she just dropped out. I remember thinking that for something that took a total of ten horrific minutes, she was still being hurt and would always be affected by it. It made me think hard about a lot of things and what I could do. I was studying microbiology. I figured I could spend my time learning about anything the son-of-a-bitch might have given her, or I could hunt his ass down so he could pay instead of her. I dropped out and enrolled at the academy."
"Very commendable,” Kris remarked.
"Not really. Commendable would be finding the sons-of-bitches before they hurt someone. Not after."
"Um, your friendly neighborhood reporter here happens to know that you have been publicly commended for the work you do at the rape crisis center,” I reminded. “I wrote the damn article on it!"
"It's still after the fact,” she maintained.
"Well, I'd want you there after the fact. I think we all would,” Claudia said.
She completely missed the validation in that. Instead, she slowly looked at each one of us individually, including Charles, and then her eyes riveted to Holly's. “Don't talk like that."
Instantaneously, everyone else's eyes took inventory of the people around us, and I found my own coming to rest on Claudia. I thought back to what Ginny had said about not being able to survive in the world being honest one hundred percent of time—even with ourselves. There was a layer of dishonesty that was indeed mandatory—and healthy. That denial allowed us to get up each morning without fearing the worst—even though somewhere inside we knew that the worst was going to happen; there was only one way out of this life.
It was a ‘when’ and not an ‘if', but denial allowed the ‘when’ to retreat and the ‘if’ to be replaced by a ‘probably not.’ It was what allowed us to look at each other, feel a glimmer of fear, and then look away, convinced that there would never be an after-the-fact moment for any of us. There wouldn't be. There couldn't be.
The awkward silence was finally slain by Laura. “We should have just stopped at the pot brownie story. At least that was funny."
"It's okay, hon,” Holly assured as she put her arm around Laura's shoulders. “Things like that are important to talk about, too, because weare strong, healthy women. But yes, it feels better to laugh, and that's usually what these gatherings make us do."
"Are you guys almost done over there?” Laura pleaded. “You've been gnawing on that cow—sorry, Maggie—
for eons."
"Oh, will you guys please let us off the hook? Please?” Ginny begged. “I don't think I eat this much in a week."
Kris covered her mouth with her napkin. “Yes, please. I honestly don't think I can eat anymore. Unless you want me to hurl on your dining room floor, I think you'd better give us a pardon."
I stood up and looked at their plates. For their sizes, they had done an awesome job. I could feel myself relenting.
"Hey, how come you made them both eat one? We at least got to share.” Alison had such a naive way of asking all the wrong questions.
Claudia and I looked at each other and feigned utter shock. “Oh my God!” she emoted. “How did we not notice that?"
"Shit, Claudia, it completely slipped my mind. Shame on us, huh?"
We all started laughing and were not at all shocked when two pickles slices sailed in our direction.
"And for you two, as well,” Ginny said, both of them tossing a pickle slice at Susan and Maggie.
Without thinking, they turned to each other with big smiles on their faces and prepared to reenact the infamous pickle high-five. In midair, Ginny's hand stopped as it slowly came back to her that she was not exactly on speaking terms with Kris. She stared her down.
"You stubborn old bag!” Kris said and stood up to complete the high-five with Ginny's motionless hand. She glared down at her in kind and then placed her hands on Ginny's cheeks. Nearly pulling her head from her spine, she planted a kiss on her mouth.
I wasn't sure if we should duck or run.
"You mad cow!” Ginny spat back, and then the two of them burst into hysterical laughter, quickly followed by the rest of us.
It was the cleansing laugh, the kind that everyone came to our meetings to get. The kind that made all the stresses and negativity leave in a flow of tears. That trust stuff—in ourselves and each other.
As we continued the hysterics, we tried to clean up the incredible mess in the dining room. At one point, Alison chimed in with
one of her questions. “Maggie, you said that you'd tell us what was in the burgers after we finished. So what was in them?"
Dread spontaneously replaced laughter. I knew for a fact that I did not want to know. I thought it best to leave well enough alone. Maggie, however, came to a different conclusion.
"Well, it's grated raw beets, oats, almonds, vegetable broth, and a bunch of herbs and spices."
"Beets?” was mouthed by and to every person in the room.
"I've got it!” Charles shouted. “Molly should call her new burger: Beets, Your Meat!"
Hysterics regained its rightful place, front and center.
Eventually, the room was clean, and Charles filled his last order. As he said goodbye and headed to the door, I don't think anyone wanted to see him leave. He fit in so well that it amazed me. He joined with everyone, and it really felt as though he belonged. I believe that he received a kiss from everyone. Holly clung to him as if she were losing her new best friend.
"I'll see you all again soon,” he said as he headed out the door. “I promise! Thank you for a wonderful time."
The door closed, and there was a strange sadness in the air. Holly wrapped her arms around Laura and whined,
“I thought you said we could keep him."
Kris eased her way over to them as Holly hung on Laura. She leaned her head so that it was eye-level with the drooping Holly, and she said, “Holly dear,that's objectification."
"Oh, but I want him, Kris” she wailed, exaggerating to the hilt.
Chapter 5
Everybody finally got a peek at Maggie as she rejoined the group. Charles and Susan did a good job of making it subtle—so subtle, in fact, that she did not look that different. Her eyes, however, really stood out, and in a way, it was like seeing her, or maybe seeing into her for the first time. She seemed nervous, and I found myself relieved that everyone remained respectful, honoring her wish not to turn it into a bigger deal. I snuck her a thumbs-up, and she smiled.
Claudia performed the hand-clapping obey-me-or-die routine, and we were ready for our next class.
"This one again encompasses two things,” she explained. “This time we are off to Earth Science. There will be no Styrofoam balls depicting the planets. There will be no vinegar and baking soda to set off a ten-second volcanic eruption. There will be no trip to the museum to see just how big those dinosaurs really were. Why?
Because none of it helped us grow up to be ... What?"
A chorus of “Strong, healthy women!” sang through the house.
"What theyshould have taught us is how we fit into this whole picture, how we were barreling toward our own extinction. We weren't back then, though, or so we thought. We were just using what was ours to use."
"Yes, then Al Gore came along,” Holly yelled. “I love him!"
"I voted for him!” Maggie added.
"Didn't weall!" Laura said, and, of course, we all started laughing.
Claudia again passed the nonexistent mic to me, and I continued, “Kris and Ginny did something kind of cool last time: having us visit all those kids at the cemetery. Amid all the chaos of that day, it felt good to do something for somebody else. So Claudia and I decided to add a do-gooder to our day as well. I hope you all will consider doing the same when your turn comes.” I paused to let that stick in their psyches somewhere, and then I said, “We're not telling you where we're going because we know you enough to predict bitching and moaning. You'll know when we get there and no sooner. So grab what you need from your stuff, take a pee, whatever—and then meet us at the front door."
Alison was quick to ask, “You said this takes in two things. What's the other thing?"
"We'll tell you when we're ready to leave,” Claudia informed.
Claudia and I went to the front door to wait as everyone took care of business. It seemed foreign to actually have a moment alone with her. I took advantage of it, wrapping my arms around her, inhaling what was left of the shampoo scent in her hair.
Soon, the foyer filled with bubbling and impatient women.
"The second part of this is pretty simple,” I began, loudly enough to get their attention without having to resort to the sound of one Claudia clapping. “If you'd been to only ten minutes of one of our get-togethers, you'd know that as a group we are not normal. Most of us are not normal individually, either, but that's for another day.” I waited until the laughter and finger-pointing ceased. “So this has to do with penance for what we probably were in school: stupid enough to think we could stand in judgment of anyone else."
Nobody had a clue what the heck we meant. I smiled as I opened the door. The group spilled out onto the front lawn, and slowly the bright, bright yellow in the driveway became a neon sign.
Some of them yelled, “The short bus!"
"We grew up to be strong, healthy women who need to ride the short bus?” Holly questioned.
"Pretty much,” Claudia said.
As everyone made a beeline for the school bus, I quickly pulled Susan aside. I wasn't sure what I was about to say was needed, but I had a feeling it was. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry to have removed the closet door without consent. “This will be rather public, Susan,” I said. “If you want to grab your Peter's Palace regalia, please feel free to do so."
She looked perplexed, and I clarified, “The hat and glasses."
"Ooooh! I don't think I need—” she started and stopped, apparently interrupting herself with better judgment.
“Okay. I will."
As she ran to her car, I turned and spied Claudia at the bus’ door, introducing our driver. “This is Phyllis. She will be driving us to our destination."
Phyllis was the only one of our day's co-conspirators we did not know personally, and I hoped we did not live to regret it.
Everyone clambered onto the bus, greeting Phyllis in passing. I found myself amazed that there were no fights about window seats. Maybe it was the do-gooder moniker that kept them from going off the deep end. I hoped that would carry through until we headed back home.
After a short ride through the city and up an on-ramp, we headed down the highway. I enjoyed the fact that they had no clue what we were up to. They looked at every place, wondering if we had arrived. Soon, Phyllis slowed the bus and pulled us onto the shoulder. At first, they thought there was engine trouble, but then when Claudia and I stood, they realized that this was it.This?
"We've adopted us a highway, girls,” I announced. “Three times a year, we are now responsible for cleaning this section of the highway."
"Oh, cool!” Maggie said not surprisingly. “Do we get one of those signs like everyone else gets?"
"Well, there's a story there,” I explained. “Seems the state was not too keen on ‘Sponsored by the Lesbian Adventure Club.’ They said we could use an acronym, though, but I thought ‘LAC’ made it sound like we were indeed in need of a short bus. So I decided to go with ‘DWD’ for Dykes Who Dare. At least DWD sounded like a bra size, abig bra size. So yes, we've got a sign."
"The Big Boob Club! I can dig it,” Holly yelled.
Give a group of obnoxious women a chance to grab themselves, and nine times out of ten, they will. And they did.
My favorite manager got everyone's attention and read the required list of rules and safety precautions. “Above all else,” she emphasized, “be safe and don't do anything stupid. I know that's pushing it for some of you."
I decided not to contemplate which of us she meant, lest I do something stupid like defend myself.
We all disembarked, put the caution signs up, and donned the safety vests the state had supplied and we had stashed under the seats. Then we slid our hands into protective gloves, grabbed trash bags, and began the task at hand.
Spring in the Midwest—or anywhere, I supposed—was an odd thing. It proved beautiful and repulsive simultaneously. Everything that got thrown away over the winter disappeared with each subsequent snowfall.
Each new snow was a clean slate, but the
n in spring, it all came back to haunt. As the snow left, layer by layer, every piece of crap piled up on itself. The stretch before us could not have been more disgusting. Cans, cups, fast food restaurant bags—you name it; it was there.
We formed a long line, and I suspected that our dear detective must have felt as if we were all cadaver dogs.
At first, it wasn't that bad. Wrappers and bags mostly. Billions served, and all within a half-block radius. There were a few empty coffee cups from my beloved Road Swill drive-thru, and I wondered if any of them were mine. Claudia stared at me with disgust, as though they were all mine. “They're not!” I yelled at her. She laughed, my goat in her clutches.
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