Lauren Takes Leave

by Gerstenblatt, Julie

  The guys have jogged up from the beach and are panting slightly when they reach us. “At least, Kat and Jodi and I are going there. You don’t have to come with us.” I look at Tim, in particular, while saying this last part. It’s one thing to take Tim slumming at the Clevelander. It’s another monster entirely to drag him to the bedside of a dead nonagenarian.

  Tim seems to agree. He hesitates, then looks sideways at Lenny.

  Lenny puts an arm around Tim and pulls him close in what looks like an act of either aggression or camaraderie. It’s hard to tell which.

  “Of course we’re coming! Right, Tim?” Lenny says.

  Tim struggles a bit under Lenny’s grip and produces a tight smile. “Sure! Love it! Sounds like a blast.”

  “Such a good guy, that Tim Cubix,” Kat sighs, watching him shake some sand of his pants and disappear inside the now-deserted club. Lenny and I sigh right along with her.

  “Yeah,” Lenny agrees, a hint of chill in his tone. “Unique, that one.”

  Chapter 23

  “Hey, I’ve always wanted to solve the Rubix Cube!” the cabdriver says, cracking himself up. Tim winks theatrically at us as Jodi gives the address.

  “I’m just warning you: it’s not that nice a place,” Jodi offers, probably as an advanced apology to Tim. “I mean, it wasn’t my grandma’s home or anything. She just had to move there last year, after her mind started to really crumble.” Tears well up in her eyes again. “Before that, she lived in this sweet little apartment overlooking the bay. I used to love spending Christmas vacations there with her.”

  I put one arm around Jodi and try to comfort her. “Jo,” I say, “you have to know that none of this is your fault. Don’t feel guilty.”

  Kat hands Jodi a mini packet of Kleenex from the depths of her man-pockets. She never carries a purse but still manages to have on her a surprisingly stocked bar of requisite womanly paraphernalia, producing lipstick, breath mints, or Visine like a magician doing sleight of hand.

  “Yeah,” Kat says. “There’s no shame to be had, just because you said you’d visit your grandmother but you didn’t and instead hung out all night drinking with It magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive of both 1997 and 2002, then she died the next morning with no family there beside her.”

  “Not helping,” Lenny stage whispers across the cab as Jodi starts wailing.

  “Sorry, Jo. I’m terrible at sympathy. This is why I wasn’t a good kindergarten teacher!”

  “As your next career, I wouldn’t consider undertaking, then.” Tim smiles.

  “Maybe tax collector?” Lenny asks. “Dentist?”

  “Maybe everyone should just shut up,” Kat barks back.

  “Good times, people. Good times,” I joke. “Let’s keep it light. We’re in Miami, after all.”

  “With my grandmother!” Jodi adds. “Who is actually really dead!” She stops crying and looks out the window. Turning back after a moment, she stares at me, wide-eyed. “Lauren. I am never going to tell another lie for as long as I live.”

  I bite my tongue so as not to say something rude, like, I think you just told one right now, and instead take her hand in mine. “Okay, Jo. That’s a big statement to make. But I know what you mean.” Among all the other lies floating around the Moncrieff home, I think of Jodi’s cash-back habit and wonder if she can really live in complete fiscal honesty with Lee, working within the true budget of their finances.

  It’s possible. I mean, in the past twenty-four hours, I’ve learned a thing or two about myself that I don’t particularly like either. There are definitely some things I’m going to try and change when I get back to New York. So, if I can do that, maybe Jodi can, too.

  I smile at her sort of crookedly. “I’ll help you do your best if you help me do mine.”

  “No lying,” she states.

  “No cheating,” I add.

  “No flirting on the side,” Lenny adds.

  “No more psychic hotlines!” Kat hoots.

  “No more alter egos!” Tim declares.

  “Whatever, Lex Sheridan,” Jodi jokes, smiling for the first time all morning.

  The cab pulls up a circular driveway and stops in front of an institutional-looking, white concrete façade. A few sad palm trees frame the peeling columns out front. Jodi sighs.

  We all pile out into the now-bright, humid sunshine. Lenny goes around to the driver’s window with some cash.

  “Hey, MC Lenny!” he says. “Love your YouTube videos.” He takes the cash before they shake hands. “It’s a real honor!”

  The driver honks and waves at us as he pulls around the circle and out onto the street.

  Lenny turns to Tim. “That was weird, right? Being recognized, first by you and now that guy?”

  Tim shakes his head. “Nah, man. Better start getting used to it. Your work is already known…and I got big plans for you.”

  Kat and I exchange bemused eyebrow raises. Then we escort Jodi through the electronic, hospital-like doors and into the frigid air-conditioning of the old age home.

  “Hi-yyy,” Jodi purrs halfheartedly to the receptionist. “I’m Sonia Goldberg’s granddaughter. She…” Jodi makes elaborate gestures with her hands to denote moved into the great beyond without me by her side.

  The receptionist jumps up quickly, sparing Jodi the need to explain any further. “Of course! Follow me this way.”

  She motions our group to a set of double swinging doors off to the left of the lobby, only then looking from face to face.

  “Are…all of you…relatives…of the deceased?” She pauses on Tim.

  “Why, yes, ma’am, yes we are.” Tim nods and tips his hat, southern charm and con man all in one. He turns to us and smiles, giving a look that says: Watch and learn, people. This is how you excel at daytime television and suck the blood from unsuspecting New York mobsters while playing a superhero. This is how you get through those double doors. Nice and easy, with a little swagger.

  The receptionist pauses and gives an uncertain grin in return. “My,” she says, unable to utter more than one syllable in the presence of such infamous hotness.

  I plaster a fake smile on my face and smooth down my hair. Kat tries to appear taller. Jodi begins wailing full force, as Lenny comforts her, saying, “There, there, cous’. I know just how you feel.”

  The doors swing on their hinges, and we have made it through to the other side. Covert high fives follow all around.

  I pat Tim on the back. “I think you almost earned a third Oscar nod just then.”

  He winks and tips his hat again, mimicking his actions almost exactly from a moment ago. “Aw, shucks, ma’am, it was nothin’.”

  “I can’t believe I already broke my resolution to stop lying,” Jodi complains. “That crying was complete bullshit.”

  She leads us around a corner and into a room shrouded in darkness. A frail figure rests there, outlined under the thin white sheet. In the dim light, I can make out some old photographs in gilt frames on the bedside table, of a young woman dancing. Each image finds her in a different costume, from a dramatic ball gown to a fringed flapper dress. This must have been Jodi’s grandma. In the largest photograph, she poses with a handsome man who must have been her husband.

  In the corner of the room sits a huge basket of oranges, still wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bow.

  Then the real tears come.

  I know it’s not nice of me, but while Jodi and the Hebrew Home’s staff are discussing next steps for the body, I slip into the deceased grandma’s bathroom and freshen up. Under the sink, I find individually wrapped soaps and a few packages of denture-safe toothbrushes. The only eye drops I find are prescription ones for glaucoma, and I decide not to risk it. In the absence of deodorant, I find Gold Bond talcum powder and rub it under my arms.

  It is decided that we will eat breakfast while Jodi’s grandma is being “prepared” or whatever.

  “What happens now?” I ask, as we exit the building and stand around uncertainly.


  “I don’t know,” Jodi admits. “I guess my mom will take care of it all from here. I better call her.”

  We start walking down the circular drive and, at the main road, turn left. The staff suggested we dine at a Denny’s about a half a block up, which had gotten Tim all excited.

  “I can’t remember the last time I ate in a Denny’s!” he says again, as we approach the huge yellow-and-red sign.

  “No way, mom!” Jodi shouts into the phone. We are about to enter the restaurant. Kat has her hand on the handle and gives me a look asking what should I do? I shrug in return. She moves back from the door and we decide to wait it out in the parking lot, since Jodi’s phone call has gotten increasingly louder.

  “That’s…gross!” she complains. “I’m sorry I’m not being mature enough for you, mother, but…really…I don’t see why I have to be the one to escort her home! All by myself!”

  Lenny coughs loudly.

  This is followed by silence as Jodi listens to the response and shakes her head back and forth. Then she speaks again. “Fine. Just remember what happened when I had to dissect a frog in sixth grade. That’s all I’m saying.” Then she hangs up and looks at us staring at her. “What?”

  Tim is the only one brave enough to approach Jodi, probably because he doesn’t know any better, having only met her yesterday. “You okay?” he tries.

  “Oh, don’t use any of your smooth southern acting charm on me!” she spits. Tim’s eyes go wide as she continues. “This was supposed to be a little vacation for me, you know. Some time off from my family. But now, that’s all a fantasy. Because, now I have to make sure my grandma is packed in dry ice so that I can take her back to New York with me…later today!”

  “Sucks to be her,” Kat whispers.

  “Sucks to be her?” I ask Kat, annoyed. “You mean, it sucks to be us. I have news for you, Kat. This is Sympathy 101 and you’re now enrolled. We’re all flying back with her.”

  Kat looks over her shoulder, to where Jodi and Tim are talking it out. “You mean…party’s over?”

  “’Fraid so.” I nod. “Time to deal.”

  Chapter 24

  Breakfast is a solemn affair as everyone slumps further into his or her own contemplative shell. There is little of the joking, fun-wheeling aura of last night. Four hours of sleep can do that to you. So can guilt, remorse, confusion, and possession of a corpse.

  I notice Lenny staring at me over a pile of pancakes, and I squirm against the pleather banquette. “What?” I blurt.

  Everyone jumps at the sound. Lenny pulls his lips in tight, and cocks his head to the side, studying me. “It’s just…you look different than you did yesterday. Like…less angry,” he decides.

  Less angry?

  Jodi pipes in, stabbing the air with a fork full of sausages. “He’s right! And…your eyes look bigger!”

  “Are you guys messing with me?” I ask, scanning their faces for signs of irony.

  “Huh,” Kat says. “It’s like…your forehead or something is different. Maybe you slept funny?”

  I did sleep funny all right.

  But wait, did Kat say…my forehead? I start to smile and am about to tell them my about my “secret” doctor’s appointment from Tuesday. It will feel so good to share the news. And to think, it’s actually working! People are noticing!

  Tim winks at me and interjects before I can speak. “Um, ladies and gents, I think that’s what we in Hollywood would call Botox.”

  “No!” Kat and Jodi say in unison. I plaster a big fake grin on my face in response, trying to hide my embarrassment at being called out.

  “Yeah, yeah, I did it,” I admit. “So…how do I look, really?”

  Kat, Jodi and I head to the bathroom, where I try to inspect my forehead in the lousy fluorescent lighting.

  “Huh,” I say, looking closely. It really is pleasantly smooth and wrinkle free. My eyes do seem to have opened up a bit, probably because the skin above and around my brow has tightened and raised.

  “It’s a miracle!” I cheer. “I love this stuff!” I’m totally converted to the dark side now. Looks like I’ll be tutoring quite a bit in order to feed my injectables habit.

  Jodi pats me on the back and reminds me that she’s four years younger than me. “But eventually, if I ever start looking as bad as you did, I’ll get the name of your guy,” she concedes.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “What is this?” Kat screams from behind her bathroom stall.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, as Jodi shouts, “What happened?”

  “I. Have. A. Fucking. Tattoo! On my inner thigh! Under this bandage! Right here!” she yells.

  “Can I see?” Jodi asks, banging on the stall. “Open up!”

  “No!”

  “You don’t remember?” I ask the Obvious Question, but still, I’m kind of surprised. I thought I was way more inebriated that she was, and I recall getting the tattoos.

  “We all got them,” Jodi adds. “I copied Tim’s.”

  “You did?” Now, that part I don’t remember. I can only hope she doesn’t have Ruby’s doodles on her back. Or worse, a sketch of King Tut’s sarcophagus. Tim has one on his arm. He showed it to me last night. Kinda creepy.

  “Yeah. I inscribed my daughters’ birthdays next to my C-section scar.”

  “In hieroglyphics, like Tim?” I wonder.

  “No, idiot. In pink and purple.”

  “Kat.” I knock gently on the yellow metal door. “Come out.”

  “It’s mortifying. I can’t. I’ll never come out again!” I peer through the seam where the door meets the frame. Kat is perched on the toilet tank with her head in her hands.

  “It can’t be that bad,” I soothe. And then I whisper to Jodi, “Do you remember what her tattoo is?”

  Jodi shakes her head, clueless. “Something about astrology, maybe? Or yoga?”

  “I. Can. Hear. You!” Kat calls.

  “Oh, wait! I’m having a vision!” Jodi announces proudly. Then she saunters over to the stall where Kat is hiding and knocks lightly on the door. “Hello, Kitty?”

  “Fuck me!” Kat says, exploding out of the stall, past us, and out into the restaurant.

  Jodi can’t stop laughing. Bending over slightly, she runs into the stall. “I think I just pissed myself!”

  “Why?’’ I ask. “What’s so funny about saying ‘Hello, Kitty’ to Kat?”

  “Dumb ass. That’s her new tattoo! It’s a white-faced, chubby cat with whiskers, a huge pink bow, black eyes and a yellow dot nose. I sketched it out for that guy Tommy. It looks like something from Kimora Lee Simmons’ line of jewelry! Hysterical!” she calls out from behind the stall. I hear her flush and blow her nose. “I’m crying again, but this time, it’s from comic relief. I really needed that!”

  I manage to get her back out into the restaurant and to our booth in one piece. Only Kat is at the table waiting for us, the guys nowhere in sight. “Meow,” Jodi declares, holding her juice glass high for a toast.

  Kat holds out her middle finger in response.

  Out in the parking lot, Tim and Lenny are speaking animatedly. Tim leans against the trunk of an old car while Lenny paces in front of him.

  “It’s your responsibility to tell them,” Lenny argues.

  “No, it isn’t. I don’t have to do a damn thing if I don’t want to. I only mentioned it to you because I thought you were cool,” Tim says.

  “Mentioned it? Like it was just something in passing? An oversight that you conveniently forgot about?” Lenny barks. “And don’t say something completely juvenile, like, ‘I thought you were cool.’ Unless you’ve been cast in the part of a seventh grader, perhaps?”

  “Whoa,” Jodi says.

  The men both turn their heads at the sound of Jodi’s voice, and instantly clam up. Tim scratches his four-day stubble with vigor while Lenny continues pacing.

  “Anyone want to tell us what’s going on?” I ask.

  “Nope,” Tim says breezily.

  Lenny m
otions with his pointer finger at Tim. “You—” he starts. “Arrgh!” He grunts in frustration, never completing the thought. “Where are they, huh?” he asks Tim, his hands gesturing wildly around the parking lot. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Then he gets up in Tim’s face. “You’ve got some nerve.”

  “Oh, that’s rich.” Tim shakes his head back and forth, a smile creasing the corner of his mouth. Cutely, I might add.

  No, Lauren, I scold myself, not “cutely.” Lenny and Tim are fighting and, no matter what, you must root for Lenny to win. Even if Tim is larger-than-life and amazingly adorable.

  “I’ve got some nerve?” Tim repeats, like they are practicing cheesy dialogue in some Clint Eastwood film. “What about you?” Tim looks around. “Actually, what about all of you?”

  We stare back at him. No one says anything for a few beats. Then I turn to Tim. “What about us?” I wonder.

  Tim sighs. “Nothing, Lauren. Just forget I said anything.”

  “Can’t do that.” He looks at me and I smile. “Listen, Macbeth. You’re very cute and very famous and I’m just trying to keep it all together around you, so no, I haven’t had much nerve until this point. But now I’m going to demand—” my voice shakes a little bit on the force of the word, but I push past it—“that you tell us exactly what’s going on.”

  It’s perhaps my imagination, but I sense Jodi and Kat moving in on either side of me, like bookends giving me support.

  Lenny clears his throat. “Tim’s got bodyguards.”

  “Well,” I say, sort of caught off guard, “naturally, he’s got bodyguards. I don’t see what—”

  “No, I mean, here. Now. Watching us, making sure we’re legit. The whole time we’ve been hanging out with him, he’s been faking this friendship with us—”

  “Now, wait a second there, Len!” Tim jumps in. “That’s just not true.”

  “So you don’t have secret security guys watching us right now?” Jodi asks, moving a step closer to Tim.

  Jodi and Tim bonded last night, certainly more than either Kat or I did with him. Lenny, too, with his YouTube connection and all that Hollywood talk. Depending on Tim’s answer, they have the most to lose.