The front door was unlocked. When I went into the living room, there was no sign of Piper, but I saw Hubert’s long form stretched out on the couch, his feet dangling over the end. Someone had covered him with one of Aunt May’s crocheted afghans and placed a bucket on the floor near his head. He was awake, or conscious at least. His eyes were closed, but he moaned very softly, like an old man with a toothache.
I crouched down next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hubert?”
He turned his head toward me and opened his eyes partway. The movement seemed to take an enormous effort. “Lola?”
As soon as he opened his mouth, I was assaulted by the smell of whiskey and recycled food. Yuck.
His lips moved, not quite a smile. “Oh good, Lola, you’re here.”
“Yes, I’m back. I heard you had a rough time.”
“God yes.” He groaned. “You wouldn’t believe it. Kelly—” And here he lifted up his head, to talk to me I thought at first—but when his mouth changed shape like he was about to expel a ping-pong ball, I knew what would follow.
“In the bucket!” I said, picking it up and holding it close.
He made it 99 percent of the way, but it was the other 1 percent that grossed me out. “Piper!” I yelled. “A little help here.”
Piper came out of the kitchen trailed by Crazy Myra, who was wearing a quilted housecoat and holding a coffee mug. My coffee mug.
“Oh, Lola, we didn’t hear you come in.” Piper’s tone was incredibly calm considering I had a man on my couch dying of an overdose of alcohol and the evidence was splattered on my arm.
Hubert wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sank back onto the couch. I released my grip on the bucket and set it down on the floor. “He was just sick,” I pointed out, in case they didn’t catch what happened. Or notice the smell.
“Again?” Piper said.
Myra shook her head. “Can’t hold his liquor, I’m telling you. Not that it’s a bad thing. The ones who can aren’t worth having.”
“I can hear you,” Hubert said softly. “I’m not dead.”
I said, “Could you keep an eye on him, Myra? I need to wash up and get some towels. Piper, why don’t you come with me and help?”
Myra settled herself into the wing chair with the coffee cup resting on her knee. Piper followed me into the kitchen.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said as I turned on the tap. “I didn’t want to leave him alone, and Mike’s called three times. Brandon’s getting some teeth—he’s been wailing at the top of his lungs the whole time I’ve been gone.”
“Piper, what happened to Hubert?” Like a surgeon, I immersed both arms under the running water.
She gave me a blank look. “Didn’t Brother Jasper tell you?”
“Not really.”
Piper looked at her watch. “There’s not much to tell. Apparently Hubert went up to the Michaels Gallery because he knew Kelly would be setting up for tomorrow night’s opening. He gets there and lo and behold, she’s in a clinch with another guy, someone he knows. Turns out they’ve been sneaking around behind his back for months and he never knew.” Behind us a cell phone rang—the theme song from Goldfinger. We both turned to look. It came from Piper’s purse, which was sitting on my kitchen table.
“Don’t get that,” I said.
“I have to.” Piper pulled the phone out of a front compartment and snapped it open. “Yes?” She mouthed the word “Mike,” like I wouldn’t know. “Lola just got back. I’m leaving in a few minutes. OK. Love you too. See you soon.”
I wiped my arms with a dishcloth. “So after Hubert left the gallery, he went out drinking?”
She tucked the phone back into her purse. “Over to Bender’s.”
Ah, the aptly named Bender’s, a favorite stop in our younger days.
“And then,” she said, “he ran into another guy he knows, a friend of Kelly’s, and it turns out that everyone in that circle knows about Kelly cheating on him. This guy even brought it up, if you can believe it. I mean, really, why would anyone do that?” She shook her head. “So bizarre. Then I guess Hubert started doing shots. When Kelly’s friend saw him getting sick in the bathroom, he got hold of Hubert’s cell phone and called me using speed dial. By the way, you really need to start keeping your phone on. You were number one, but they couldn’t reach you.”
“OK.” I’d try to remember.
“By the time I got there, he was barely upright. He was clutching his stomach and saying he was in pain. If it weren’t for Brother Jasper, I never would have gotten him from the car to the house.”
“Do you think he’s going to be OK? Should we call a doctor or something?”
“I think he’s going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. But physically, he’ll survive. Emotionally, that’s another story. He was a mess in the car, saying how could Kelly do this to him. I tried to talk to him, but it was pretty pointless. Once we got him inside, your other neighbor showed up, and the three of us got him on the couch. We made some coffee, but he didn’t want any.”
“I’m sorry you were inflicted with Myra.” I lowered my voice in case it could be heard from the living room. “She’s really an odd duck.”
Piper raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh no, she was a big help. First off, she knows where everything is in this house. And then we got started talking, and she’s really interesting. I was telling her about Brandon, and she told me about her little girl who died. So sad. And how horrible is it that just a few years later her husband and parents died within months of each other? That’s so tragic. I can’t even imagine how someone would cope with something like that. How could you keep going?”
Maybe by tending a garden for hours and muttering to ceramic garden gnomes? I felt a pang of guilt. I’d been so quick to label, but I’d never stopped to think why Myra might be the way she was.
“I have to get going,” Piper said, looping her purse over her elbow. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how he is.”
“I will.”
“Tell him if it makes him feel any better, I’m willing to go to the gallery tomorrow and take a flamethrower to Kelly’s sculptures.”
“It might not make him feel better, but I’d love to see it.” I could picture her stupid paper sculptures consumed by fire. There would be a certain justice.
Piper grinned. “You can come with me. We’ll make it a girls’ night out.” She gave me a hug. “Seriously, now I really have to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Myra, still carrying my coffee mug, left just after Piper drove away. I let the mug go without voicing an objection. I had liked that coffee mug a lot, actually, but I remembered the saying about letting the things you love be free. If it really belonged to me, it would be back. If not, it was never really mine to begin with. Or something like that. In any case, I had more important things to think about.
I traded Hubert’s bucket for a different, better bucket. Better because it was empty. I took care of the icky one—emptied and rinsed it—and then put it away. I got a bottle of water from the fridge, went into the living room, and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the couch. Hubert’s arm dangled over the side; his fingertips rested on the floor. I lifted his arm with the intent of reuniting it with the rest of his body, and I jumped when it moved of its own accord and patted me on the shoulder.
“Oh, you’re awake,” I said.
“I’ve been awake the whole time.” His words didn’t come out as clearly as usual, but I could understand him easily enough. “I’m not in a coma. I’m sick.”
“Sick being the new word for drunk?”
He grimaced. “I’m drunk too, but mostly sick. Food poisoning. I had a bad seafood sub from Sub America at lunchtime.”
“Food poisoning?”
“Yep.” His eyes were closed now, and I could clearly see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
“And you’ve narrowed it down to a seafood sub? Are you sure that was it?”
/> “I wasn’t sure it was the seafood going down, but coming back up—I definitely knew.” He talked as if he had marbles in his mouth, like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. “I tried telling Piper it was the sandwich, but she wouldn’t listen.”
So he was drunk, had food poisoning, and was heartbroken? Talk about a bad day. I unscrewed the cap from the Aquafina. “Do you want some water?”
He propped himself up on one elbow, grabbed hold of the bottle, and took a few careful sips before lying back down.
“Do you think you’re done throwing up?” I asked.
“For now.”
I capped the bottle and set it on the floor next to the bucket. Outside I heard a car drive past and the barking of dogs in the distance. All was right in the neighborhood.
“I’m really sorry about Kelly,” I said after a few minutes of quiet.
“Yeah, me too.”
“But you know, Hubert, you’ll get through this. I never thought of you and Kelly as an ideal match anyway.” This was completely true seeing as Kelly, to my mind, was more of a bride-of-Satan type. “You’ll find someone new, someone more worthy of you. There are lots of women who would give their eyeteeth to date a great guy like you.” Dozens probably, within easy driving distance.
“I don’t want a date.” He sounded aggravated. “I’m tired of dating. I’m through with all that. I want someone for life. To get married, have children. The whole thing.”
“You’ll have all that. Really. We both will.” My words hung comfortably in the air. Just saying it made it all seem attainable. Maybe there was something to positive affirmations after all. I felt myself getting pumped with possibility. If someone like Ryan would ask me out, it seemed obvious I was date-worthy. Even if Ryan and I didn’t wind up together, there had to be someone out there for me.
And if Ryan and I did wind up together, well, I hated to even think about it for fear of jinxing it, but wouldn’t that be a great ending to my story? It sure would make going to high school reunions more fun.
I thought about my life, and it was like looking past fog that had lifted. Suddenly my future seemed clear. I had the house, the job, friends, my health. Why wouldn’t a husband and kids follow? Why not?
And hadn’t someone recently said I was smart, pretty, and kind with a great sense of humor? Not to mention what a good friend I was. Surely someone like me wouldn’t die alone. I’d been selling myself short.
And Hubert deserved the same. He wanted to get married more than any other thirty-year-old guy I knew. Probably because his parents were such a perfect match. The curse of having happily married parents: they’re a hard act to follow.
I stroked his head, brushing his hair back off his forehead. “You mark my words, Hubert. Sometime in the very near future, we will be married.”
I saw him swallow—his Adam’s apple ducked, and his forehead relaxed under my fingertips. “Are you proposing to me, Lola?”
“What?” My hand froze in midair.
“Because if you’re asking, yes, I will marry you.”
I heard myself laugh, but it was one of those nervous, forced laughs. Heh heh heh. “I was talking in general. I didn’t mean we should get married to each other.”
He raised himself up on one elbow and looked at me through half-lidded eyes. “Why not, Lola?”
I laughed again, this time sounding like Nelson on The Simpsons. “Ha ha!” I waited for him to join in, but he just gave me a questioning look. “Really, Hubert, you can’t be serious.”
He struggled to a sitting position. “Hypothetically speaking, it could work, don’t you think?”
He was obviously still influenced by the alcohol and the shock of seeing Kelly with another man. “Hubert,” I said, trying to think of the best way to put this. Hubert and me together? How weird would that be? “I can’t marry you. You’re one of my best friends. I’ve known you since seventh grade. We used to ride our bikes together.” I’m not sure why I added the part about the bikes, but it seemed to give my point some added weight.
“Would that be the worst thing in the world—to be married to one of your best friends?”
Why did that sound familiar?
“Really, Lola, think about it. We’re completely compatible. And just think, if we got married, neither one of us would have to be alone.”
Neither of us would have to be alone? How pathetic was that? The poor man was speaking out of desperation. Of course we were compatible, and yes, I loved him to pieces. Who wouldn’t? But didn’t he realize there had to be some kind of physical attraction? And clearly there wasn’t, but I couldn’t say that. How do you tell someone that you can spend hours with them and never wonder what they look like naked? Or watch them talk and not even try to envision what it would be like to kiss their lips? He was the only man on the planet I could belch in front of without blushing, but that didn’t mean we should get married.
I gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll tell you what, Hubert. If you still feel this way tomorrow, we’ll talk. But once the alcohol wears off and your stomach settles down, I’m betting you’ll feel as mortified by this idea as I am right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hubert spent the rest of the night on the couch, with me at his side for most of it. Thankfully, he didn’t need the bucket again, although he did make a few urgent trips to the bathroom. I didn’t ask for details.
The next morning I waited for him to bring up our conversation from the night before, but he never did, which gave credence to my theory that drink and desperation initiate ideas that fall apart in the light of day.
Most of Saturday was taken up with recovery. I wasn’t hungover or suffering from food poisoning, but I was tired and had dirty laundry up the yin-yang. I shuffled through the house with baskets of clothing and paid a few bills online. Hubert and I took turns napping on and off, reminding me of the day after final exams in college.
Late afternoon, when Hubert finally made it into the shower, I took the cordless phone into my bedroom, shut the door, and settled back on my bed.
When Mike answered, we went through out usual exchange. Like Mr. Rogers, all was wonderful in his neighborhood. I told him I was glad and could I please speak to his wife? If it wasn’t too much trouble?
For the first time in ages, Piper came to the phone with something resembling enthusiasm. “Hey, Lola,” she said. “I was just thinking about you! Honest to God, I was on the verge of picking up the phone when it rang and was you.”
Flattering, but it left me wondering why Mike answered it if she was on the verge of picking it up. How did that work? Did he race over and grab it away from her outstretched hand? I couldn’t picture it, but whatever. It was the thought that counted.
She continued. “So, how’s Hubert doing today? He must have one hell of a headache.”
“He’s much better, actually. Turns out he only had a few drinks—he was mostly sick from something he ate at lunch.” I explained further, but I could tell she was dubious about the food poisoning angle. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. If I went to a bar to pick up a friend who reeked of whiskey and could barely walk, I’d have opinions on the subject myself.
“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s much improved. Mike and I were really worried about him. So,” she said brightly, “tell me about your date. Hubert said you went out with Ryan?”
She always did get right down to business. “Overall it went very well,” I said, “until Mindy showed up.”
Piper listened, fascinated, while I recounted the events of the evening. She stopped me frequently to ask questions and to insert the appropriate outraged comment at Mindy’s behavior. “She’s such a piece of work,” she said when I paused to take a breath.
“Always has been,” I said. “But at least she’s consistent. With Mindy you always know what to expect—it’s just the same crap, different pile. But the good news is,” and here I paused for dramatic effect, “and you’ll like this, that I decided to go ahead and announce my engagement to Ryan
at Mindy’s wedding. He’s totally on board with it, so I thought, what the hell.” I grinned and clutched the phone to my ear.
She squealed. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you. I wish I was going to be there to see it. But you can show me the video footage, right?” From her tone you’d think I was actually getting engaged. “Now we just have to go shopping for rings. I was just reading in Cosmo about these simulated diamonds that are so close to the real thing only a jeweler can tell the difference. You can buy one at a fraction of the cost of a regular engagement ring. What kind of cut do you like?”
“It really doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t a superficial person. Any large, sparkly rock would do.
“Hey, can I be your maid of honor?”
“But of course.” I was hers, so it was only fair.
“And Hubert can stand up too, don’t you think? He did at mine.”
Her mention of Hubert reminded me of the real reason for my call. “Speaking of Hubert, I had the weirdest conversation with him last night. Wait till you hear.” I filled her in on the exchange, ending with, “And then Hubert said we should get married. To each other. At first I thought he was yanking my chain, but he sounded serious. Can you believe it?” I waited for her reaction, expecting a wow, or a gasp, or more questions. Instead, I got a silence that could be dissected by a Ginsu knife. It occurred to me that maybe we’d been disconnected and I’d been rambling to myself. “Piper, are you still there?”
“I’m still here.”
“Isn’t that unbelievable? Here we’ve been friends since seventh grade, and out of the blue he says we should get married?”
“Hmmm.” I got the sense she’d pulled Brandon onto her lap. I could hear his babbling close to the phone.
I tried again. “I’m thinking that the combination of bad seafood and whiskey shots has this effect on men. And if that’s true, I could make a fortune selling the information to other women. Hey! Maybe the one who holds the bucket becomes the love interest. Like those geese that migrate following an ultra-light because they think it’s their mother.” I chuckled, but Piper didn’t join in. Distracted by the baby, no doubt. “And the most ironic thing is that until recently nobody was interested in me, and suddenly I have two men who want to marry me.” OK, technically Ryan’s offer wasn’t genuine, but still, we were dating and that was no small thing. Who knew where it might lead? “By next week I’ll have men following me in droves.” I laughed again, but there was still no response on the other end.
Easily Amused Page 16
