I noticed her staring at my shoulder bag.
“Is that leather? You own a leather bag?”
“It’s okay, Samantha. I have no intention of eating it.”
“Marcy, you’re always so amusing! By the way, I heard you were dating.”
What, was it on CNN? Banner on bottom: “Marcy Hammer finds man, exposes wrinkled knees.”
“How wonderful. I don’t know how women get the courage after so many years of being married. If Helmut left, I would just sit in my house alone, eating pizza.”
I tried that. It didn’t work.
“Did you go online? You’re always so amusing. Even if your picture was so-so, I am sure you could compensate by just being funny.”
“I have to go, Samantha. My hot, new thirty-year-old soul mate is waiting for me to come home and fry my pocketbook for dinner.”
As I shot away from the produce section, I bumped into another cart.
“Marcy,” I heard a baritone voice say. It was a voice that sounded as clear and strong as that of a radio announcer on an AM news show.
“Jerry, how are you?” Jerry Glassman was probably the nicest guy in the brassiere business.
“Not bad,” he said. “All things considered.”
I was wondering what “all things” were, but I didn’t ask.
“Lynn left me,” he blurted, shaking his head with regret.
Wow, I thought. Is there anyone in America who is still married?
“I didn’t know, Jerry. I’m sorry.”
“She said I was the reason she was fat.”
“Well, then you should have stopped feeding her immediately.”
I noticed his dimples when he smiled.
“Maybe she was right. When we met forty years ago, she was an itsy-bitsy little thing.”
“I hate when they do that.”
“What?”
“Hook you in when they’re thin, then gain a hundred pounds.”
He laughed. He had a nice laugh.
“You’re cheering me up, Marcy Hammer. I like that.”
He smoothed his thick, dark hair. I looked him over. He had been through a tough time, but behind his wire-rimmed glasses, there was light in his eyes. He wore a Patagonia running jacket over a black T-shirt, running pants, and Nike shoes. He was taking excellent care of himself.
“What about you?” he asked, mindlessly pushing his cart back and forth.
“Harvey’s gone too,” I said. “He told me we were having too much sex.” Had I really just said that? The older I got, the bolder I became. Was it because I no longer felt like I had anything to lose? I thought back to junior high school, when I had watched every word, afraid of being made fun of, when I had walked down the corridor, uncomfortable in my clothes, in my body, fearful I might even be thinking the wrong thing. The result was that I hardly spoke for three years—and my peers made fun of me anyway. Once, I took a verbal assault just for wearing shoes that tied when the popular shoe was a loafer. I knew that. But Mom wouldn’t hear a word about loafers. She said loafers were bad for my feet. Now they call such verbal shoe abuse bullying. But sometimes you are just bullying yourself. To tell the truth, I enjoyed being blunt. By the time I am seventy, I will be saying things like “Your fly is open. Think I’ll zip it now.”
Jerry moved closer. Our carts were touching. “I always thought Harvey was so lucky to have you. In fact, when I heard the whole story, I was positive he had lost his mind. Crazy what people do. You think you know someone, and suddenly, you wake up and realize you didn’t have a clue.”
He paused, thinking.
“Would you like to have a cup of coffee in the café?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
I pushed my cart behind his to the tables in the refreshment area near the cash registers.
“Black or with milk?” he asked.
“Milk and a Sweet’N Low,” I said.
“No Sweet’N Low here. It’s a health food store.”
“Right,” I said. “So just put in eight packages of raw sugar.”
I sat at a tiled table.
“I saw Harvey last week,” he said when he brought over our drinks.
What a treat, I thought.
“We were at the LUMP Convention.”
Ladies’ Undergarment Manufacturers and Providers.
“So you’re not retired yet?” I said.
“Trying to sell out, get a three-year employment contract. Then I want to travel. Have you ever been to Amsterdam?”
“No, but I like marijuana and red lights and Heineken.”
“I’m going to start in Amsterdam, because my son lives there now.”
I took a sip of the coffee, which had too much milk and definitely too much sugar.
Samantha David appeared. “Look at the two of you. Marcy, you didn’t tell me you were seeing Lynn’s Jerry. That’s so funny—Harvey and Jerry—both in the bra business.”
I didn’t care what she thought. I sipped, hoping Jerry wouldn’t encourage her with a single word.
“Nice to see you, Samantha,” Jerry said as a clear fare-thee-well.
She winked at him and walked off.
“So, your son is abroad. Where is your daughter living?” I asked.
He adjusted his glasses. “Olivia is in Manhattan. She’s married, expecting a baby.”
“Fabulous,” I said.
“It would be a lot more fabulous if Lynn and I could get along.”
I gritted my teeth, ready to hear about his soldiering on.
“Lynn and I are still throwing rocks at each other. You may be getting along with Harvey now, but one day you’ll see.”
Why did people always have to say, “You’ll see”? The thing you would “see” was nine times out of ten something ominous or at least not enjoyable. “You’ll see” when your baby is two—and throws macaroni and cheese all over the restaurant floor. “You’ll see” when your daughter starts dating—and you find a condom in the back seat of your car.
Besides, I knew Jerry was wrong. Although I often wanted to push Harvey out a window on the top floor of the Empire State Building, I had made up my mind that I was going to get along with him because of our kids. I didn’t think this would be easy—I’m not that big a fool—but I was committed to being “the bigger one,” as my mother had always called it.
“Tell me one problem, and I will solve it,” I said. Just call me Judge Marcy.
“Lynn has a new boyfriend.”
“Is that difficult for you?”
“Well, there is a problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Her boyfriend is my brother.”
We chatted about his ex-wife and his ex-brother even longer. He glanced at the wall clock in the refreshment area, took a breath, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Marcy. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go. I have a checkup with my dentist—to clean the bad taste of divorce out of my mouth.”
I laughed. “Well, it’s been great running into you. I hope things settle down.”
“Wait,” Jerry said.
I smiled, wondering what he was going to say.
“How about dinner sometime?”
Taken aback, I could feel myself blush.
“Thank you so much for asking,” I said.
“And?”
“I’m seeing someone.” I hadn’t said that sentence since Nancy Reagan wore red at the White House. It sounded odd, yet it was eye opening, and I repeated it to myself. At Jerry’s expense, I felt proud and cocky about it. That wasn’t right. But I couldn’t help it.
“It’s true, then,” Jerry said, shaking his head.
“What?”
“All the good ones are taken.”
Good one or bad one, I did feel taken.
Elisabeth called. “Want to go to the mall?”
Her call was a dead giveaway. She had heard the wedding gown story from her sister. Nobody went to a mall anymore. The mall was as passé as a Jell-O mold with fruit in it.
“I guess y
ou heard,” I said.
“Yes. I’m not looking for any brownie points, but I warned her not to buy the gown without you.”
“Where would you like your brownies delivered?” I asked.
“At least she is not making you wear the maid-of-horror dress.”
“I saw the picture you sent. It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not that good either,” she said.
“You can always cut it down later.”
“I think you mean cut it up.”
“What do you need at the mall?” I asked.
“I don’t need anything, but Spiritual Experience is offering a free gift when you spend thirty-five dollars. I love those free gifts.”
“Okay, I can go on Saturday. I’ll meet you at ten o’clock at the counter in Macy’s.”
I took my time to dress nicely. When I finished, I looked in the mirror in my bedroom and saw that I looked pretty darn good in a denim skirt, a turtleneck, and navy flats. In fact, I looked young. I smiled at the mirror. I still felt lousy about my experience with Amanda, but Elisabeth had made me feel better. I knew she was busy and that her invitation was from somewhere deep in her heart.
When I showed up at the makeup counter, Elisabeth was trying perfume.
She held out her wrist. “What do you think?”
“You smell like a watermelon.”
“That wasn’t what I was going for.”
She hugged me hello.
A salesperson appeared. She was a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. Her badge said her name was Yolanda.
“Hello,” I said.
“How can I help you?”
Elisabeth pointed to a sign on a stand depicting a canvas pouch. Below the sign were samples. Cotton-candy-colored lipstick, beige foundation with SPF 15 sunblock in it, apricot blush with a brush, black mascara, and beads that twisted open to release magical moisturizing oil.
“I see you’re having a giveaway, and I want to buy something that would qualify me for it.”
“You would have to spend thirty-five dollars,” Yolanda explained.
“What costs thirty-five dollars?” my daughter wanted to know.
“Nothing really,” Yolanda said. “Two lipsticks are thirty-nine dollars, if that helps.”
“No. I want to buy something for thirty-five dollars,” Elisabeth said.
“Well, it would have to be something over thirty-five dollars.”
“Like what?”
“Our Reincarnated Face Mask imbued with chrysanthemum is forty-four dollars.” She displayed a thimble of a jar. “It’s best for dry skin. I see that your mother has dry skin.”
“I’m not her mother,” I said. “I’m her sister.”
“Yes, she’s my sister,” Elisabeth said. “My younger sister.”
Yolanda sized me up. I have to say I was having a good time.
“For you,” she said to Elisabeth, “I would recommend Younger Than Youth. It’s a serum and it’s just thirty-nine dollars. So is our night cream.”
Elisabeth shook her head. “If we need to spend thirty-five dollars to receive the free gift, something here should be thirty-five dollars.”
“Elisabeth, let’s just buy something.”
“You’re right. I’ll take the serum and the cream, entitling me to two free gifts.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s only one gift per person.”
“Okay, then my younger sister here will take a serum, and I’ll buy a cream, entitling us to two gifts.”
As we walked off with our bounty, Elisabeth’s phone went off.
“It’s Amanda. You take it. I can’t listen to one more thing about the wedding,” she said to me, then told Amanda, “Here’s Mom,” and handed me the phone.
“What are you doing together?” Amanda asked as we walked to another counter.
“We’re shopping, but right now Elisabeth is spraying perfumes.”
Amanda spoke as though nothing had taken place between us. I went with it.
“Jake just told me he wants nine ushers.”
“Nine? What, did he pick them off an unemployment line?”
“There are no lines anymore, Mom. You just go online.”
“Really?” I said. “Even unemployment is easier now.”
“Mom, concentrate.”
“Why nine?” I asked.
“His two brothers, his three cousins, and his friends from camp.”
“He still sees friends from camp?”
“Once a year, they meet in Chicago and go to a Cubs game.”
“For a guy, that’s about as close as it gets,” I said.
“Well, it’s going to look ridiculous. He wants them to wear tuxedos and top hats. They’ll look like the cast of A Chorus Line.”
“One,” I said. It was my favorite song from the show.
“What I Did for Love,” Amanda said, naming another one.
“You may have to do it for love.”
“But I only want Elisabeth and Ben to stand up for me. No bridesmaids.”
“You can do that. The only problem is everyone will think Jake has tons of friends and you have none.”
“So now I have to worry that the people at my own wedding will think I’m unpopular? Mom, in high school, I was voted most likely to succeed.”
“Well, your friend problem is not a big deal compared to the Dad problem.”
“What Dad problem now?”
“Once he hears there are nine ushers, he will assume you are having a bigger wedding and want to invite more employees from Bountiful.”
“Let me talk to Elisabeth,” Amanda demanded.
“She wants to talk to you,” I told Elisabeth, who now smelled like a botanical garden.
Elisabeth waved me away, shaking her head vigorously.
“She can’t talk right now. She just died of perfume overdose.”
“Your cousin Phyllis called to ask when we were going to talk about a flower girl dress for her granddaughter.”
“Uh-oh.” Now Amanda was in real trouble.
“What was I supposed to tell her? ‘Not only is your granddaughter not my flower girl, but I wasn’t inviting you to the wedding’?”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“No, Mom. What are you going to do?”
“Oh, don’t get me involved in this.”
“She’s your cousin. Your cousin, your problem.”
Elisabeth turned to me. “Just hang up. I want to go to lunch.”
That evening, as I unpacked my gift from Spiritual Experience, the doorbell rang. It was Jon, and he was holding a bouquet.
I kissed him. “Wow. Thank you. Is there an occasion?”
“I don’t need an occasion.”
Ten points, maybe a thousand.
He followed me to the kitchen. “What’s that?” he asked about the makeup on the table.
“Free prizes,” I said.
“How do you get free prizes?”
“It’s easy. You go to a department store with Elisabeth.”
He rubbed his chin down to his neck. I adored the way his chin and neck were always rough.
I put the flowers in water. I used the splotchy brown-and-red vase that Ben had made for me when he was twelve. It was one artifact I would keep forever.
“You have so much fun with your kids. I don’t know why you don’t want me to be part of your family as well. I’ve always wanted a family,” Jon said.
He had never said anything like this before. He was a widower, and I knew this was difficult for him to talk about.
“My wife had three miscarriages, Marcy.”
I could feel my face warm with his pain.
“I should have been a father of three. But this is how things worked out.”
I thought of him going with his wife to the hospital each time, his eyes welling. His dreams crushed. Then I imagined how Jon would have been if he had become a father. Showing his son how to put on a tiny baseball glove in the park. I imagined him at a high school game,
in the stands, while his kid played first base. I didn’t know what to say. I ached for him.
“I never told that to anyone,” he said.
I took his hand. I rubbed his palm. “I am sorry, Jon, so very sorry.” I could feel tears in my eyes.
“I want to be part of a family, Marcy. I would like to be part of your family.”
“No, you don’t. They are all horrible people.”
“Marcy, this is not funny.”
“I know. I know. I’m joking only because I don’t know what to tell you.” I touched his face. “I like your rough face,” I said. I kissed his cheek.
“Marcy, I really want to discuss this now.”
I backed away. “Okay,” I said.
“You are compartmentalizing your life. You’ve got me. You’ve got your family. Two separate entities.”
“Jon, I’m not a magician. I can’t just turn my family into your family. It’s going to take time.”
“How much time? We’ve known each other for years. We started seeing each other in the winter. It’s summer. How much time?”
“I’m not sure.”
Who was I to deprive him of what he wanted? Especially when all he wanted was to be nice to me and to my children? I felt like some other person—not me, but some mean woman. But I knew my kids were not ready to treat him the way he wanted to be treated, like a friend. Jon was waiting. I had to say something.
I spoke softly. “I want to involve you, but I don’t think it’s time yet. I don’t think I am ready. Maybe one day I will invite everyone over for a wonderful dinner.”
“Maybe one day?” he said, color rising in his cheeks. “Perhaps I should stop seeing you until maybe one day.”
“If you want to do that, I understand,” I said, afraid he would agree. Please don’t let him agree. A moment passed, but it seemed like half an hour. I held my breath.
“I don’t want to do that,” he said, shaking his head.
I felt a cool wave of relief, as though an entire ocean had passed by. He was right. It was time to let him meet the kids. But what would I tell him about the wedding? About Amanda and how she just didn’t want him there?
“I’ll set something up,” I promised.
He smiled. “Ask me to do my trick.”
“To Kill a Mockingbird,” I said.
Chapter 14
Instead of hiding under her white, thousand-thread-count Italian covers until the impending date of the hysterectomy, Candy doubled down on everything. At first, I thought it was a show of good attitude, then I realized it was denial. She dumped Leonardo, her very personal trainer, because she said life was too short and she had to stop playing around. She saw Ellison Graham as often as possible. She joined my gym. I forgot to tell her that I went there only when dragged by wild horses. In fact, the last time I had gone was when I’d told Amanda I was choosing dinner with her and her in-laws over seeing Hamilton.
Husbands and Other Sharp Objects: A Novel Page 13