Easily Amused

by McQuestion, Karen

  My thoughts were interrupted by noises from outside—voices and hurried footsteps and what sounded like the static and squawking of walkie-talkies. “What’s that?” I asked, pulling my hand away.

  “I don’t know. Just ignore it.” He’d moved down and was grinding against my thighs, his hand on my breast. “Feels great, doesn’t it, Lola?”

  One of Ryan’s windows was definitely open. Outside the voices were louder, reminding me of the mob scene in the Frankenstein movie. I couldn’t ignore it. Even Ryan seemed a little distracted, pausing to look at the window. He finally said, “God, I wish they’d stop whatever it is they’re doing.”

  And then I heard it—Belinda calling, “Baxter, Baxter. Come on boy, come to Mommy.” She sounded like she was right in front of the house.

  “Lost dog,” I said.

  “Dammit,” Ryan said, rearing up. “I’m closing that window.” He dismounted and crossed the room, giving me a good view of him from the back. Before he reached the window, a bright beam of light shone into the room through the gaps in the blinds. “Shit,” he said, dropping onto all fours. “What the hell are they doing out there?”

  The beam of light swung in circles. Good God, it looked like an invasion. I sat up and pulled my halter top in place, snapped it securely, and then walked over to the window to peek between the slats. Gathered on the sidewalk I recognized Belinda, Brother Jasper, a few of the Chos, and two of the college girls who rented the house down the block. Belinda held a flashlight, one of those big industrial jobs that could have been used to direct plane landings. The group conferred for a minute or so and then broke into pairs, scattering down the sidewalk. “They’re going away,” I said, turning back to Ryan, who was still crouched on the floor.

  “Too late now,” he said sourly. He stood up and I could see that, luckily for me, it really was too late.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “So he couldn’t get it up?” Piper asked. We were walking the mall, and she was pushing Brandon in his stroller. I’d just finished giving her the lowdown on the previous night.

  “No, it was up at one point. Standing proud. It just didn’t stay up. There was this commotion outside. The neighbors were looking for a lost dog.” I stopped to pick up a board book Brandon had dropped over the side. Piper took it from me and stuck it in the diaper bag. “They were yelling and shining a flashlight. It broke his concentration.”

  “That’s not all it broke.” She laughed and made a grunting noise.

  “Oh stop, please,” I said, but I had to smile. Some things were a lot funnier in retrospect.

  “So what did it look like?”

  “What?”

  She took a sip from her water bottle. “Don’t be so coy. You know what I’m talking about. What did his thing look like?”

  “You know the button mushrooms they spear and serve in drinks? A lot like that.”

  “I meant before it shrunk.”

  “Sort of like a Dodger dog.”

  “Oh, one of those.”

  We stopped at a bench, and she handed Brandon a chunk of soft pretzel, which he chewed on enthusiastically.

  “So what then?” Piper said. “You just went home?”

  “Yeah, but get this. Just before I’m out the door he stops me and takes my hands, and I think he’s going to say he’s sorry for how things went or whatever, but instead he pulls up my left hand—” here I illustrated by raising my hand like stopping traffic “—and jerks the ring off my finger and says, ‘I better hold onto this.’”

  “Really?” Piper looked fascinated. “Did he think you wouldn’t give it back?”

  “Apparently. So then I just slunk home, talked to Hubert for a while, and went to bed.”

  “Hubert wasn’t part of the dog search party?”

  “No, he didn’t know anything about it.” I rubbed my forehead. Despite a liberal dose of Excedrin, I still had a killer wine headache. “He’d gotten back from playing racquetball and spent most of the evening in the kitchen reading my aunt’s diaries. He’s addicted to them.”

  I’d only given Piper the bare bones of the Hubert situation. When I came home, he was sitting at the table reading. I must have looked pretty terrible after my ordeal at Ryan’s—all bleary-eyed and rumpled. Lacking a comb, I’d raked through my hair with my fingers during the walk across the street. I had a feeling it didn’t help much. When I walked into the kitchen, I was about to apologize for my appearance when he looked up and said, “How was the date?”

  “A bit of a letdown, if you must know.”

  “Ah, too bad.” But he didn’t look like he meant it. “But you look great anyway. Really beautiful.”

  “It’s the dress. It’s a good color for me, or so I’ve been told.”

  “No, it’s not the dress. I mean the dress is nice, but it’s you I was referring to.”

  “Thanks.” I stood for a second. He looked so familiar and welcoming in his T-shirt and jeans with my aunt’s diary open in front of him. “Still reading that, huh?”

  He grinned. “Your aunt was awesome. I wish I could have met her. I have about a hundred questions I’d love to ask her.”

  “Like what?” I pulled out a chair and sat down, glad to have something else to think about.

  “Just about her life and her travels and the people she knew. Did you know that Myra was a young woman with a husband and a baby when she moved into the house next door? Your aunt was the first neighbor to greet them. She took a cake. Wasn’t that nice? People used to do those kinds of things.”

  I thought guiltily of my own King Street moving experience. That day, and for the rest of the week, at least half a dozen neighbors had stopped by, bearing everything from flowers to homemade pickles. I’d thought they were a nuisance.

  “And then,” he continued, “I was reading one of her later diaries, and she wrote about Myra’s baby getting killed. That’s what she called her, ‘Myra’s baby,’ even thought the little girl was almost four at the time. It’s the saddest story. Myra was off visiting her sick sister for the day, and her husband was supposed to be watching their daughter, Janie. Janie ran out into the street and was hit by a car. They took her to the hospital, but it was no use. May said that Myra never forgave her husband for not being more attentive. She doted on that girl. She was their only child.” He looked away, as if he’d been there and was remembering it himself. “And then two years later, Myra’s husband took sick and died. At the funeral Myra kept saying, ‘I didn’t really mean it, I didn’t really mean it,’ and when your aunt asked what she was talking about, she said, ‘I wished him dead, but I really didn’t mean it.’”

  “Hubert, you’re depressing the hell out of me.” I slid my feet out of my shoes and wiggled my toes. “Why read it if it’s so sad?”

  “It’s not all sad,” he said. “Your aunt had a very complete life—good and bad—but sad times are part of life too, you know.”

  “You can say that again,” I said glumly. I turned sideways in my chair to give myself some room, and then I reached under my dress to take off my stockings. I pulled each one off in turn and draped them over the back of my chair. What a relief. The elastic cuff that had held them in place had left ridges around my thighs like the edge of a dime. I rubbed at the indents with my fingers, but nothing changed. Just my luck to be permanently disfigured as a result of an elegant evening out on the town. I massaged the marks, which had the unfortunate effect of making them more pronounced. I looked up to see Hubert staring at me in fascination.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “No, I—” I realized then that I’d hoisted my dress nearly to my crotch. “I just had to get these stockings off. They were driving me crazy.”

  “Lola, are you drunk?”

  “Just a little bit.” I lowered my skirt over my knees.

  Hubert regarded me carefully. “A little bit?”

  “I had some wine.”

  “How much wine? A lot?”

  “I don’t know. I lost count.�
��

  “That’s a lot.”

  “I think it’s mostly worn off by now.” Why did he look so amused?

  “So what went wrong with the date?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Not even a hint? The food was bad, the car broke down, the guy was a jerk? That was it, wasn’t it? The guy was a jerk.”

  “I said I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad, could it?”

  And that’s when I began crying. At first I thought I was just blinking a lot, a sort of psychological impulse, like trying to blink away the image of Ryan’s angry face when he told me it was too late. Or trying to blink away the thought that next week I would be thirty and the only diamond engagement ring I’d ever gotten was on loan and would soon be traded in for cheap cufflinks. Maybe moisture was forming in my eyes because I was tired and drank too much wine and my aunt was dead and I never really knew her and Hubert would have loved her. There were a lot of good reasons why my eyes might be getting so emotional. Whatever it was, though, once it started, I couldn’t seem to stop.

  Hubert looked stricken. “Oh no, Lola, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push it. I won’t talk about it anymore.”

  I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “It’s not your fault,” I said, trying to choke back sobs.

  “You’re being nice. It is my fault. I’m sorry.”

  I could tell by his face we were entering that weird cycle where he felt awful because I felt terrible, and then I’d feel terrible about making him feel awful. Round and round it would go. “Just forget about it. It’s nothing.” I sniffed.

  He leaned forward in his chair with a sad look on his face. “It’s certainly not nothing if you’re this upset.” He held out his arms. “Come here.” And then it was the easiest thing in the world to get up from my chair and crawl into his lap. “There now,” he said, stroking my back. I settled against his chest and closed my eyes. The feel of his hand between my shoulder blades was almost hypnotic. My breathing slowed, and I found myself relaxing into him. Such a good man. “See,” he said after a few minutes, “everything’s going to be fine.” Such a comfortable, reassuring man. I could see why the fourth graders loved having him as a teacher. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong? You never know, I might be able to help.”

  “It’s too complicated.” His fingertips were making a circular motion on my back. I hoped he wouldn’t stop.

  “Try me.”

  “It’s just…” I exhaled wearily. “I’m just so tired of everyone. I’m really starting to hate people.”

  “Not all people, I hope.”

  “Well, not you,” I admitted. “And not Piper or my parents.” I tried to think of other exceptions, without success. “But pretty much everybody else.”

  “I’m glad I’m on the short list, anyway.”

  “And I’ll be so glad when Mindy’s wedding is over next week. I’m really dreading it.”

  “Why?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? “Because it’s all about Mindy and how beautiful she is and how in love she and Chad are and how they’ve been together forever. And then, compare and contrast, there’s me.” I stopped to sniff; Hubert handed me a paper napkin. “Me, the older unmarried sister, all big and frumpy.”

  “Oh stop. You’ve got to be kidding. You don’t really think that.”

  “Mindy will look stunning. And my dress—” I hadn’t actually seen my dress yet. She and Jessica had selected it, and I was picking it up from the mall the next day. “My dress will probably be hideous. Or very unflattering, anyway.” I blew my nose into the napkin. “It’ll probably make my ass look like it has a life of its own.”

  I waited for Hubert to contradict me, to say there’s no way my ass could look like that. Instead he said, “Don’t worry about it, Lola. Mindy’s got nothing on you. And anybody who can’t see that is a complete idiot.”

  OK, that was a good thing to say. “Remind me of that at the reception, would you?”

  “I would if I was going to be there.”

  I lifted my head. “You aren’t coming to the wedding?”

  “No, Lola. For one, I wasn’t invited. And secondly, I’m helping with the block party that day.”

  That damn block party again. “Can’t you skip it? Tell them something came up?”

  “I promised Brother Jasper I’d be available all day. The proceeds this year are going to help a family whose little boy has leukemia. The mom has to take off work a lot, and they’re barely making it.”

  “Oh, but I wish you were going to be at the wedding.” I could handle it if he were there.

  His brow furrowed. “Piper told me Ryan was going to be your date.”

  “That might not be the case anymore.”

  “I see.” He kneaded my shoulder with his thumb. “Well, normally I’d love to stand in for Ryan, but I’m unavailable on the seventh. Sorry.”

  I sighed. “I’d rather have you there than him any day.” I hadn’t realized it was true until I’d said it.

  “There you go—if nothing else, you always have me. Small consolation I know, but at least it’s something.”

  “That’s no small consolation. It’s huge.”

  We sat for a little while, him massaging my shoulders like I was headed into the boxing ring, me feeling better. After a few minutes he said, “Lola, you better get up. My legs are falling asleep.”

  I got up as requested, but we both knew it wasn’t his legs causing the problem. Another part of him was now wide-awake and standing at attention.

  What I’d told Piper was basically true: I came home, talked to Hubert, and then went to bed. I just left out that one little sexually charged detail. It wasn’t like me not to tell Piper all, but I knew if I did this time she’d ask questions, probing questions that I wasn’t sure I knew the answers to. I’d tell her about it at some point—just not now, sitting on a bench in the mall.

  “So your date ended badly,” Piper said, jarring me from my thoughts. “Does this mean he’s not going to be your fiancé at the wedding?”

  “I’m not counting on it,” I said.

  “But if he wants to, you will, right? You’ll say you’re engaged?”

  “I guess.” At least Ryan made good arm candy. And we had the proposal story ready. The ring was gorgeous. Maybe I’d go through with it after all.

  Piper broke off another piece of soft pretzel, handed it to the baby, and then glanced at her watch. “You know it’s almost two o’clock, don’t you? Isn’t that when you’re supposed to meet Jessica?”

  Ah, Jessica. The real reason for my trip to the mall. “Yes, two o’clock. Are you coming along?”

  “No, I better get Brandon home before he has a meltdown. Have fun.”

  “Thanks.

  Jessica was waiting for me when I arrived at Windsor, a mall store featuring a banner over the door that read, “Prom season is here!”

  “You’re late,” she said as I walked in the door.

  I had a headache and wasn’t in the mood. “Whatever. I’m here now, so let’s take care of this thing.”

  Ten minutes later I stood before a three-way mirror in a silvery, off-the-shoulder gown that fit like it was made for me. The fabric was iridescent, and when I moved from side to side it shimmered like dragonfly wings. “I can’t believe how much I like this dress,” I said to Jessica, who sat watching, her purse in her lap. I picked up the fabric like a princess in a movie and moved the folds of the material to reflect the light.

  “I picked it out,” Jessica said grumpily. “I’ve been doing a lot of your sister’s decision making lately. What’s up with that? She was all over this wedding at first. We were doing it together, but lately she never has time for me. Suddenly it’s like you two are best friends.”

  I turned to her. “What?”

  “Not that I’m jealous or anything, you are sisters, but she’s kind of being rude abo
ut it.”

  “Rude about what?”

  “All week she gave me the brush-off. She was either at your house or you two were going somewhere.”

  “Jessica, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen Mindy at all this week.”

  She looked confused. “No, on Wednesday and Thursday she took off work so the two of you—”

  “I haven’t even talked to Mindy this week, and I worked Wednesday and Thursday.”

  “But Chad even said she was with you.”

  I shook my head, and we stared at each other.

  “So where was she?” Jessica asked.

  “I don’t know.” I thought of Mindy’s fascination with Ryan. If he hadn’t been out of town, I would have suspected something between them. But Ryan wasn’t even home this week, and he had stopped in at my office on Friday, straight from the airport. Or at least that’s what he said. My head still hurt from the previous night’s wine, and thinking too hard made it worse. “I just don’t know,” I repeated.

  “I’m going to ask her,” Jessica said. “That’s bullshit that she can’t even tell me the truth. I’m her best friend and maid of honor, for God’s sake.”

  “When you find out what’s actually going on, I’d love to hear it,” I said. Jessica said she’d let me know, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

  I drove home with the bridesmaid gown hanging off a hook in my backseat. Where in the hell had Mindy been all this week? I would ask her, I decided. If she was going to use me as an alibi, I deserved an explanation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The next night Hubert and I were playing Scrabble in the kitchen when Chad burst in on us. Yes, the front door was open and the screen door unlocked, but I wasn’t expecting any visitors, much less my sister’s fiancé barging in red-faced and angry. “Where is she, Lola?” he yelled.

  I’d just added “fire” to Hubert’s “fly,” landing on a double word score. A most excellent move on my part. Chad’s appearance detracted from my achievement and startled me. “You’re looking for Mindy?” I asked.