Getting Old Can Hurt You

by Rita Lakin

  Sophie wants to know, ‘There’s a marijuana dealer in here?’

  ‘Trust me. Did you remember your note from your doctor?

  Sophie opens her purse and waves it aloft.

  ‘Okay, let’s get you some drugs.’

  The girls have had long excited discussions about what will happen today. They expect to go down some dark alley. Izzy will then knock three times on a door using a secret password. Maybe they will even meet guys with guns?

  Instead, Izzy directly traverses through the gilded lobby to find the lavish gift shop in this very expensive hotel. The woman behind the counter is introduced to us as Bubba Esther. Grandma is easily eighty-five years old, but either she is in denial, or just because she lives in Miami Beach, her hair is bleached blonde, cut short, at a stylish angle, with bangs. Her outfit is a fire-engine-red satin blouse, with a short, short matching twirly skirt. Four-inch high heels, glittery-gold strappy shoes; one could fall down on one’s face in such heels. And jewelry! Necklace, dangling earrings, wristwatch. Many rings, diamonds galore; enough to weigh a lesser woman down.

  She and Izzy hug so tightly, and for so long, you would think they were auditioning for parts in a senior porno flick.

  Sophie whispers to Bella, ‘All she’s missing is rings in her nose.’ Bella sniggers.

  Bubba Esther looks Sophie and Bella over, writing them off – definitely low class. But if Izzy brought them, they must have money … okay …

  The girls are insulted.

  Izzy informs his eager buyers that Bubba’s whole family lives in the penthouse. ‘Bubba’s son owns the hotel. This is a little sideline for his mom.’

  The girls snort. Sophie whispers, ‘A nice Jewish grandma; part-time saleslady and part-time drug dealer.’

  Bubba Esther places an out-to-lunch sign on the gift-shop door and locks up. The girls follow Bubba and Izzy, eyes wide open, shivering in excitement. This is becoming an adventure. But excitement tamps down a bit when they enter a dreary storeroom and once again a door is locked. Much like what they’d expected earlier.

  Bubba, with a flourish, dramatically pulls aside a thin green satin curtain. ‘Voilà!’

  ‘Who’s Viola?’ Bella wants to know.

  ‘Shh,’ cautions Sophie. ‘Just pay attention.’

  Bubba starts her pitch, standing in front of a long industrial table filled with products. ‘What’s your pleasure, ladies? Flowers? Concentrates? Edibles? Drinkables? Smokes?’

  The girls are startled.

  ‘Dabs, oils, hash, wax? Vapor pen. Canna tonic? Tinctures? Capsules?’ She takes a breath, ‘New product, strains, just in, ‘Train Wreck’, a sativa-dominant hybrid from California. A great help with body pains.’

  Izzy sees the turned-down faces from this confusing oversell, and stops his rich saleslady friend. ‘Let’s keep it simple, Bub. Maybe some gummy bears and a few chocolate lollypops thrown in.’

  The girls’ eyes light up.

  Izzy and the woman go into detailed discussion as to what’s in the items; not one word is understood by the listeners. But they do manage a smile when sugar, as one of the ingredients, is mentioned. They can dig that.

  Sophie tries to squeeze a word in. ‘I don’t want to turn into a drug addict …’

  ‘Nah,’ says Izzy. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you. They’re all made from healthy phenotypes, non-psychoactive. We’ll write down how much to take and you’ll be all set.’

  Bella tugs at Sophie. ‘Maybe with an eensie-weensie bit of kick to it? Just for fun?’

  Sophie hesitates, then nods. ‘Very teensie-weensie.’

  ‘Got it.’ says Izzy. He picks up a package. ‘This one is guaranteed “just for fun”.’

  The girls nod their heads, happily – yes for gummy bears.

  More mumbo jumbo, then Bubba Esther hands Sophie a bill, to be paid by cash only, and immediately. Sophie gulps a few times, then forks over a price more than a month’s rent.

  On the way home Sophie, curious, asks Izzy, ‘How do you know so much about marijuana?’

  ‘And where did you meet that Bubba Esther?’ Bella asks.

  Izzy smiles. ‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.’ Izzy’s huge Edsel arrives at Lanai Gardens. The girls pile out. Sophie says thanks, profusely, eager to try her new ‘MJ.’

  Izzy says, ‘Read the directions carefully. You don’t want to overdose. Gummys can last as long as five hours, so watch out. And happy trails.’

  Izzy drives off with a toot-toot of his horn of the great big expensive car.

  The girls sneak their way back to their apartments. Bella worries. ‘If someone sees us it’ll be all over Lanai Gardens in five minutes. They’ll wanna know where we went and what we bought. Move fast.’

  Luckily, it’s nap time.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Come Fly with Me

  A gentle knock on Sophie’s door. Sophie opens it quickly and practically drags Bella in. It’s only seven a.m., and Bella is puzzled. One pajama-wearing woman-in-second-childhood faces the other. Sophie in her Minnie Mouse pj’s; Bella in her Tweetie Pie’s.

  ‘What kind of mishigas is going on so early in the morning? So you need to call me?’ Bella asks anxiously. ‘Did you fall out of the bed again?’

  Sophie wrings her hands. ‘It’s my legs, still killing me. I took my gummy bears and poof, nothing! Still a hundred per cent agony.’

  ‘When did you take him and how much?’

  ‘The directions said start with five milligrams, so I did. Ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Let me see the directions.’ Bella reaches for the pamphlet, then, ‘Oops, I didn’t bring my glasses. Read it to me.’

  ‘It said wait an hour, but I can’t wait, my legs are screaming, help me, help me!’

  ‘Tell them to shush up and let’s wait a little longer.’

  The girls sit down at the kitchen table with the little package of multicolored cannabis gummy bears in front of them. Bella picks one up, admiringly. ‘They’re so cute.’

  ‘Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock moves so slowly.’ Sophie gets up and fills the kettle.

  ‘Don’t complain. Every tick and every tock makes us older.’

  ‘You’re right. What kind of tea? Want your usual?’

  Bella shakes her head. ‘No Lucky Dragon today, maybe Coconut Crush?’

  ‘I’m drinking Herbal Delight. Do you think that goes good with gummys?’ Sophie looks up at the kitchen clock and sighs. Only fifteen minutes later.

  Bella says slyly, ‘Could I try one, just for fun?’

  ‘Sure, why not? They’re useless. I might ask for my money back.’

  Bella takes her time picking out a color she likes. Pink is always a favorite. She’s torn between the pink and purple, her other favorite color. Pink wins. She tastes it on her tongue, then swallows. ‘Sweet as sugar,’ she says, approvingly. Now Bella also looks at the clock.

  Sophie pours the tea. Then, suddenly, ‘I can’t stand it. I’m taking a second dose. Maybe it’ll work faster. So far these drugs are overrated.’ She pops another gummy.

  ‘What the heck, I’ll join you. Purple this time. It’s like eating candy. Ha-ha, it is candy, sort of.’

  Sitting, moping, drinking tea, and waiting, feet tapping the minutes away. Sophie tosses out another ‘Tick-tock.’ She pulls at the neck of her pj’s. It’s getting hot in here. ‘I’m turning on the air.’ Jumping up out of her chair, and forgetting her cane, she hops and skips into the living room where her wall switch lives. ‘Hot. Hot. Hot,’ she says, turning the dial. Then she rushes to her windows and opens them all, as well, which she knows will undermine the AC, but she doesn’t care.

  Bella is right behind her. ‘Guess what? I’m hungry.’

  ‘So, eat. Who’s stopping you?’

  Bella goes back into the kitchen, opens the freezer and takes out a frozen bagel. ‘I’m gonna eat this.’

  ‘What’s the “this”?’ Sophie trots back into the kitchen.

  Bella is standing next to Soph
ie’s small yellow radio, with its colorful Minnie Mouse sticker. ‘I’m microwaving.’ She keeps poking the bagel onto the top of the radio.

  ‘I’m hungry, too,’ says puzzled Sophie. ‘Where do you keep the Fritos?’

  ‘I don’t know. Who lives here?’ Bella says, looking around, and under the kitchen table, as if searching for clues.

  The radio suddenly blasts on. Latin music. Loud! Bella jumps away. She’s amazed and delighted. ‘I never heard of a microwave that plays songs.’ She continues poking the bagel onto the top, still with no luck.

  Sophie jabs Bella in her belly. ‘I do. I do.’

  ‘What do you “do, do”?’

  ‘I don’t know. Fritos, Fritos where are you?’ She opens and closes one cabinet door after another.

  ‘I am not fat!’ Bella is furious.

  ‘Who said you were?’

  ‘Were what?’

  ‘I never met a Frito I didn’t like.’ Sophie now tosses bags of chips from her shelves onto the floor.

  Bella leans her ear close to the radio. ‘Bagel, bagel, get warm, already.’

  ‘I feel like dancing.’ The radio plays a medley of soft Cuban love songs. Sophie cups her ear to listen, then asks, ‘Salsa, good for you?’

  ‘Salsa is good.’

  Sophie kicks off her bunny slippers and begins to dance. Bella plays follow-the-leader. Soon they are dancing together to the imagined salsa rhythm. Then back to back. Then twisting each other around. Sophie goes to the radio and turns the sound way up. An announcer now does an anti-diarrheal commercial. In Spanish.

  Sophie is back to her dancing partner. ‘What are we dancing?’ Bella wants to know.

  ‘Feels like a cha-cha to me,’ Sophie says through chomping on chips. She dances them out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Bella still grips her frozen bagel.

  ‘I didn’t know you cha-cha’d.’

  Sophie whirls her arms and fists this way and that, looking more like a boxer than a dancer. ‘Maybe it’s a rumba. Who knows? Who cares.’ She pushes the sofa out of her way for extra dancing space.

  The radio now is tuned to the news of the day. In Spanish.

  Whirling dervishes, they are. Happy, happy, making up steps. Louder, louder. Faster, faster.

  What’s that, someone is knocking on my wall?

  A shout comes from the adjoining balcony, ‘Keep it down, idiot!’

  Sophie picks up her cane and uses it to knock back on her side of the same wall. ‘Shtupid Shhelma, next door. Shhe complains about everyshing.’ Sophie’s blurry tongue yells louder. ‘Shhhut up!’

  Sophie leans Bella down into a dip. The dancing continues.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Back to the Pool

  We’re on our way to the pool again. It was closed for a few days to empty it of all dregs of the dreaded alligator. Scrubbed down and ready for use again, though our neighbors return for their morning swim with trepidation and terrifying memories of the ugly lizard. Frankly, I think it was more afraid of us than we of it. Jack suggests the Thing didn’t like the chlorine. Joe and Evvie are of the opinion it was a ‘she’, and she was lost and was resting on her way back to Alligator Alley, the bizarrely named two-lane tollway connecting the east to west, aka Interstate 75. Fort Lauderdale to Naples. A steamy path through the Everglades where alligators and worse cross the road. Ugh, we’ve been on it. It? Him? She? Whatever.

  Eyes dart toward the wooded area, fearful of another cold-blooded, scaled reptile showing up. Gone was our alligator, taken who-knows-where by those amazing wranglers. Bella, always with the perfect non sequitur, swears she’ll never buy alligator shoes or purses again. It would be too much like killing a relative she hates.

  The girls are in a good mood. Bella suggests, ‘I guess we might go in the pool. Or not. I don’t want to run into my relatives again.’

  We all laugh and look to Ida. Ms Snippy doesn’t snap at Bella. She’s still not back to her old self. Her eyes are on Tori, walking ahead of us.

  Surprise. Tori, who has not been seen for a while, has deigned to give us the honor of her surly presence. She doesn’t look too happy. She’s downright grouchy. Whatever she’s looking for – and I assume she is on some quest – has not been found. And why she is staying with Ida remains a puzzle, since the bad feelings are still rampant. Poor Ida continues to take any meanness the girl dishes out.

  Uh-oh, there’s Hy on full throttle holding forth. Hy, wearing his usual garish Hawaiian shorts, is standing and addressing everyone around the pool. Even the snowbirds at their far end, what we have nicknamed South of Canada, are paying attention.

  Hy is telling his tasteless jokes. Oh, oh, once again, he’s stealing from the famous comics like Joey Adams, Milton Berle, Jackie Mason. Hy is an equal opportunity thief: he’ll steal from anyone. Everyone’s laughing, even though they’ve heard them all before.

  ‘I just came back from a pleasure trip. I dropped my mother-in-law off at the airport. Va voom! What are three words a woman making love doesn’t want to hear? Honey, I’m home. Va voom! We stayed at a hotel with a water bed. My wife called it The Dead Sea.’

  Hy stops at the sight of Tori. This could spell disaster. The misogynist and the sarcastic girl could shoot off fireworks.

  We go to our usual lounge chairs. I explain to Tori that by now these chaises are marked in blood. Everyone has had his or her place on the grass rim around the pool for years and change is unacceptable. You do not ever, ever take your pool stuff into a territory not your own. She ignores my lecture; old ladies are a bore.

  Ida tenses; this is now her default demeanor. She slinks down into her chaise next to Jack and me. Evvie and Joe take their regular seats on the other side of us. Sophie and Bella are chuckling in anticipation of trouble, and Sophie is sitting in a chair instead of lying down, in hopes of being able to get up again. I wonder what’s up with those two. They are non-stop gigglers these days.

  Tessie and Sol are bobbing up and down in the shallow end of the pool like two demented water buffaloes at play. Tessie bobs but Sol, much shorter, gargles up pool water.

  Across the way, Hy and Lola are already settled in. Lola is knitting another one of her many long, long scarves. By now the length would be down to her knees. Since there is never a scarf day in steamy Florida, I wonder what she does with them. Maybe it’s like that new coloring book craze. Older people coloring in kiddy books, and remember not to let your crayon go over a line. You do it, just to do it. It’s supposed to keep you calm.

  Jack pulls an empty chair near us for Tori. She drops her towel and tee shirt on it; she is wearing her same revealing bikini. Her eyes are on Hy, his are on her; such staring, they’re both looking like they just ate ice cream and are licking their lips, orbs huge as searchlights at an opening night on Broadway.

  All of us shudder and hold our breath. It’s like watching a mongoose size up the snake. Or is it the snake sizing up the mongoose?

  Hy emotes with his hands. Waving them, shaking them. Wiggling them. His body dances up and down, his butt wobbling, too. Now, directed at Tori, to impress.

  ‘I tell ya. What a day. I owned Hialeah yesterday afternoon. I could do no wrong. All I had to do is bet on anything that came out of Panorama Stables. First, I caught the double with Temple Star and Glory Girl. Boy, did they pay off. Then another wild ride in the third race with an exacta. The fifth won me a long shot, Miss M and M, a nag wearing blinders. Win. Win. Win. Everybody! Drinks are on the house!’ Which he knows is ridiculous, since we all bring our own plastic water and juice bottles and booze is not allowed.

  Hy is surprised at the sound of applause.

  And there’s Tori clapping with gusto. ‘Bravo!’

  Hy looks her up and then down. Delighted it’s coming from the gorgeous young thing, the one staying with Ida. ‘Well, hel-lo, hot stuff!’ He gives a shrieking wolf whistle and we all wait for hell to break loose.

  ‘Well, hel-lo, back to you.’ A simpering voice.

  Simpering?
>
  He pats his chaise lounge, indicating an invitation to sit at his side. ‘Just sashay your luscious self on over here.’

  And Tori indeed ‘sashays’. We are in shock. Tori, ice maiden? Tori is not slicing and dicing him with sarcasm? She’s invited into enemy territory? Lola is sending eye daggers. She’s the only one in the world who thinks Hy is hot stuff and she wants no competition from this teenybopper.

  Hy straightens out his beach towel that reads, ‘Stolen from the Miami Hilton’, and Tori sits daintily down.

  He pours them two glasses of iced tea. They don’t notice the ice emanating from Lola, knitting furiously.

  ‘Funny you should mention that Panorama Horse group; I grew up in a town called Panorama City,’ Tori says.

  ‘Nice name,’ he responds.

  ‘Shoulda been called Puke City. Crummy place. Every kid had a knife in his pocket.’

  ‘Sounds as awful as my hometown. On the lower west side of New York. Right next to the old Meat Packing district. The smells of dead animals could asphyxiate you. Or make you upchuck.’

  ‘We were so poor, cat food was considered a luxury.’

  ‘We were so poor, my dad made me crawl in the gutters digging for pennies.’

  By now the avid outdoor pool theater-goers are punching each other in amazement. This is great TV. Remember the old Can You Top This?

  Our group is stunned to see that Tori has suddenly become a motor-mouth. And we have never, in all these years, heard any of his background from Hy. Everyone, including those actually in the pool, is leaning in, breathless, not wanting to miss a beat.

  Now Hy is rubbing sunblock cream over her back and Tori is making mewling noises of pleasure. I hope that Lola won’t do her own leaning in and kill her with one of her knitting needles.

  They are still at it. Taking turns. I’ll do your back, you do mine. Oh boy, trouble, right here in River City. Where are the trombones?

  Hy says, ‘When I was born, my father took one look at me and ran away from home. He said he was only going out for cigarettes. For a long time we lived in our old Ford V8.’