by Nancy Thayer
“But,” Alice insisted, “that doesn’t mean you have to date a guy you don’t like!”
“I agree!” Faye said triumphantly. “Therefore, I have fulfilled my Hot Flash Club duties. I’ve dated three new men, which proves I’m not depressed, cowardly, or pessimistic. Now I intend to prove to you all that it’s perfectly possible to live a happy, fulfilled, fascinating life without having a man in it.”
“The problem with planning the rest of our lives,” Alice said slowly, “is that we don’t have any role models. Our age group is the first to be living so long, in such good health”—she knocked the wood of the coffee table, and so did the others—“with so many opportunities.”
Marilyn agreed. “True. We’ve accomplished a lot. We’ve had children, and husbands, and lovers. We’ve had friends, houses, and careers. Now how do we decide how to live the rest of our lives?”
“Are you talking about retirement?” Shirley asked.
Marilyn shook her head thoughtfully. “No . . . it’s more that, even if we eat well, exercise, and take good care of ourselves, we’re not going to live forever. What I’m trying to figure out is—how do I decide what to do with the rest of my life when I don’t know the variables?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Alice said. “It’s what I’ve been thinking. Given the fact that we all have a finite amount of money—some of us have more than others, sure, but only Marilyn has real wealth—”
Marilyn objected. “Not really. Remember, my ex-husband made the money and he fought like a fiend to keep every penny he could.”
“Okay, then,” Alice continued, “given that we’ve got a finite amount of money—”
“How do we plan the rest of our lives when we don’t know how much longer we have to live?” Faye finished for her.
“Exactly!” Marilyn said. “Time. The variable we can’t control.”
“I mean”—Alice held out her hands as if she were weighing objects—“should we live frugally, in case we live for thirty more years, or go wild now because we could die in five?”
The four women sat in silence, considering the question.
“I think,” Faye said slowly, “if there’s anything enormously important to us, something we’ve wanted to do all our lives, I think we should do it now and hang the costs.”
“But you’re financially independent,” Shirley pointed out. She looked around the table. “So are all of you, more or less.”
“Is there anything you’ve longed to do all your life that lack of money’s preventing you from doing?” Marilyn asked Shirley.
“Well, duh, yes! I wish I’d had a nicer house, a nicer car, and there’ve been about a million dresses I haven’t bought because I couldn’t afford them, not to mention eating in restaurants.”
“Okay,” Alice said, “but what about now? You can’t change the past. Is there something you want to do now that lack of money’s preventing you from doing?”
Shirley took a sip of seltzer as she considered. “Well, I guess not. I mean what I’ve longed to do all my life was have my wellness spa, and I have it!”
Faye admitted, “I’d like to travel a bit. I’ve always wanted to spend time in London, Paris, Florence.”
“Well, gad, Faye,” Shirley said, “you’ve got the money. What’s stopping you?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose I was afraid to go off and leave Laura, even after she was married. I’ve wanted to be near, in case she needed help.”
“I understand,” Marilyn agreed. “It’s a kind of superstition held over from when our babies were little and we had to leave them with sitters. As if having fun independent of them might mean they’ll get hurt.”
“But we agreed we’re not going to let fear rule our lives!” Shirley reminded her.
“Shirley’s right,” Alice said. “Look. Here we all are, in our fifties and early sixties, and I’ll bet we’ve all lived in fear of something that hasn’t happened.”
“True,” Faye concurred. “I was always afraid something terrible would happen to my daughter. That she’d have sudden infant death or get hit by a car or try drugs and become addicted.”
“And none of that happened, right?” Alice asked.
“Right.” Faye laughed. “Of course, now I worry about the same things, only for my granddaughter.”
“My fear,” Alice confessed, “was professional. I was always afraid I’d be at our annual board meeting, and Melvin Watertown, my immediate supervisor, would say, ‘Alice, on page seventy-nine of the personnel handbook, you left out the word not, costing this firm millions of dollars in compensation.’ ”
“I totally get that.” Shirley worried about similar things during her meetings with the spa board. “Did that ever happen?”
“No, thank God. Because I read and reread the fine print like someone with OCD.”
“Well, you see,” Shirley said, brightening. She always liked finding silver linings. “There’s an example of our fear actually helping us. Like it helped me. My greatest fear has always been that I’d start drinking again and start the downward slide to perdition. But I haven’t had a drink in years, and at this point I’m feeling pretty optimistic that I won’t ever.”
“You should be proud of yourself, Shirley,” Faye said. She turned to Marilyn. “What’s been your greatest fear?”
Marilyn shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Um, I’m not sure . . .”
Alice pounced. “You’re not evading us that easily! Come on, out with it!”
Marilyn blushed. “To tell the truth, I’ve always been afraid I’d die before I found out whether or not the Loch Ness monster exists.”
Alice snorted with laughter. “You are so weird.”
“Marilyn,” Faye said, “that seems a really odd fear from someone with a scientific mind like yours. I mean, even I know the Loch Ness monster is a hoax.”
For Marilyn, those were fighting words. “Not necessarily. Nessie very well might be a plesiosaur, an ancient reptile who lived at the same time the dinosaurs lived and probably died when they did, about sixty-five million years ago. Recent sonar tests have located large moving targets, but the loch is so long, and so deep, it’s easy for a large creature to evade detection.”
“Have you ever gone to Loch Ness?” Alice inquired.
“Oh, no.” Marilyn shook her head. “I’ve been so busy with my lab, my classes, my research articles, my home.”
“You should go,” Shirley decided. “Definitely. You don’t have to worry about money, Marilyn. You could even rent a boat and cruise the lake, loch, whatever. Maybe Nessie would appear for you.”
“Don’t be silly.” A wistful expression crossed Marilyn’s face.
Shirley pressed her point. “I’m not being silly. Miracles happen!”
“Well, it’s true, I never thought of going there,” Marilyn murmured.
“I could go with you,” Faye offered. “We could spend some time in Edinburgh and London.”
Marilyn’s face lit up. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Yes,” Faye’s face clouded. “But Laura—”
“—is in San Francisco!” Alice bluntly reminded her.
Shirley added, “She wouldn’t want you to sit at home just waiting for her to phone you! She’d want you to be happy.”
“Not to mention, you’re still a role model for her,” Marilyn said.
“You know something?” Shirley pointed her finger at Faye. “You need an attitude adjustment.”
“Where do I go to get it?” Faye joked.
“Well,” Shirley proposed, thinking aloud, “how about this? We have so many celebrations in this culture to mark passages of life. Weddings. Funerals. Baby showers. Birthdays. Graduations. Bat and bar mitzvahs. Confirmations. Retirement parties, like the one where the four of us met. Wouldn’t it be great if there were a kind of ‘You’re Officially off the Hook’ celebration?”
Alice nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I totally agree! The next part of our lives can be so rich. Now we h
ave time to take courses we didn’t take before, learn about the world, travel, or play bridge.”
“On the subject of enjoying life . . .” Shirley straightened in her chair, lifting her chin defiantly.
“Oh, boy, here we go.” Alice arched an eyebrow. “Justin again. I’d bet my teeth.”
“You’re right, of course, Alice.” Shirley glared. “It does involve Justin, but it also involves the three of you.”
“You’re not getting married!” Alice croaked.
“No. But Justin’s moving out of his condo and moving in with me.” Seeing their expressions, she glared. “Look. You’ve been grumbling about the fact that Justin lives in his condo and doesn’t pay rent or utilities—”
“We have not been grumbling!” Alice objected.
“This way, we’ll have the condo free,” Shirley argued. “Star, the yoga instructor, has been looking for a place to live nearer the spa, and this will be perfect for her. And she’ll pay rent.”
“Oh, Shirley,” Faye said, trying to placate her, “our concerns aren’t about money. We’re just afraid you’re—” She bit her lip, trying to think of the right words.
Alice didn’t mince words. “We’re afraid you’re thinking with your crotch.”
Shirley shook her head impatiently. “Justin wants to write a novel. He’s wanted to write one all his life, but he’s always had to work, he’s never had the time and stability to write. I want to give that to him. I want him to live with me for a year, and he’ll teach his courses in journal writing and poetry, and you know those have huge enrollments. And he’ll write, and when the year’s up, we’ll go from there.”
“What if he’s using you, Shirley?” Alice kept her voice affectionate, worried.
“What if he is? Look. I know he’s twelve years younger than I am. I know he could easily fall for another woman. I know he’s handsome, charming, and seductive. But we’ve been talking about what we really want for the rest of our lives, and about fear not getting in the way, and this is what I want. And if he’s just using me, fine. I’ve never had so much fun as I am now. I’m happy. And if he leaves me in a year, well, I’m willing to pay that price.”
The three other women exchanged glances.
“We don’t want you to get hurt,” Faye said gently.
Shirley gave a little shimmy. “Hey, ladies, remember, I’m sixty-one. My heart is so battle-scarred there’s not much room for another cut. Besides, he might actually love me. Hell, he could even get his novel published and dedicate it to me! Whatever, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” When the others didn’t respond, she said, “I thought our first rule was not to let fear control our lives.”
“You’re right,” Marilyn agreed. “So I say do it.”
“I agree,” Faye said.
They all looked at Alice. “Oh, hell. All right. Go for it, Shirley.”
Shirley smiled radiantly. “Thank you. Thank you, all!”
Faye rose. “Now. Time for dinner.”
They all rose and helped set the table. Faye took a casserole from the oven while Shirley tossed the salad. When the other three were seated, Faye reached into a cupboard, brought out a gorgeous chocolate layer cake, and set it in the middle of the table for them all to admire.
“What’s this about?” Alice asked. “Not that I object.”
“I just felt like it,” Faye said. “I look forward to these evenings so much, and I’ve lost ten pounds, so I feel like I deserve a treat.”
“You’re absolutely right, honey,” Shirley said.
“True,” Marilyn agreed. “After all, the third rule of the Hot Flash Club is ‘Celebrate every chance you get.’ ”
33
On Friday evening, Carolyn lounged on the living room sofa with her belly rising beneath her peach silk caftan like a two-ton pumpkin. A week ago, when Beth had rushed her to the hospital, she’d discovered she was only having Braxton-Hicks contractions, painful but not true labor. The experience had frightened her. She didn’t want to give birth to her daughter prematurely. She’d hated the way the nurses had humored and babied her, as if she were some cute dumb thing too thick to spot the difference between false and real labor. She felt like such a novice at this childbirth thing, so inept, it made her cranky.
“They’re here,” Hank announced. He opened the door.
Julia, Beth, and Polly came in, nearly skidding to a Keystone Kops stop when they saw Hank.
“I’m Hank, Carolyn’s husband.” Hank shook hands with them all. “I’ve had orders to vacate the premises for a couple of hours, so I’m off to the gym. Have fun, ladies.”
The moment he left, Carolyn’s friends went wild.
“Oh, my god, he’s so cute!” Beth squealed.
“True,” Carolyn agreed smugly.
“Sure he wouldn’t want to watch the videotape with us?” Julia asked.
“Quite sure,” Carolyn assured her.
“Hello, Caro.” Polly bent to kiss the top of Carolyn’s head. “Sorry to drive away your gorgeous husband. Maybe these homemade sugar cookies will make up for it. I didn’t make chocolate because the caffeine might be bad for your heart. I’ll heat water for coffee. Herbal tea for you, right?”
Julia bent over the VCR, slipping in a video. “Carolyn, how’s your father?”
Carolyn sighed. She was sighing like the rain forest in a typhoon these days, with the baby using her lungs as punching bags. “Depressed, to put it mildly. The lawyers are working on the annulment, Heather’s moved back into her house with her boyfriend, and Aubrey’s gone down to a resort in the Bahamas for a couple of weeks. He’s hoping sunshine will cheer him up.”
“Is he going to take any legal action against Heather and Heinous Harry?”
“No. He’d rather take a loss on the money than have this turned into a public spectacle. I think what hurts him the most is that he feels like such a sucker, getting taken like that.”
“Love can make the smartest person foolish,” Polly observed, as she and Beth carried in the trays. “Have a cookie.” She held the plate out to Carolyn.
Sugar, butter, and a hint of vanilla melted in Carolyn’s mouth. “Yum.”
“I can’t wait any longer!” Beth cried. “I want to see the tape!”
Polly looked surprised. “You mean Julia hasn’t told you what’s on it?”
“No. She’s been torturing me.”
Julia rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Just you wait, my pretty.” She gave a wicked-witch cackle. “Everyone ready?” She hit the remote control.
The screen flickered, then steadied. A camera scanned a hotel ballroom where a party was in full progress. A band played a soulful rendition of “The Twelfth of Never.” The dance floor was crowded with couples of all ages dancing in every kind of mode except the minuet. The camera focused for a moment on a handsome guy in a baby blue tux with a pretty brunette in his arms.
“That’s Mark,” Beth told the room. “Sonny’s brother. And his girlfriend, Barbie. She’s nice.”
The camera panned over the crowded floor, coming to rest on a tall, lean, dark-haired woman who kept pushing her hair with her hands as she danced.
“That’s Suze,” Beth said. “Sonny’s sister. She’s nice, too. She’s a real jock. So not frilly. She had her hair done for the party and they sprayed it stiff. It drove her crazy all night! That’s her father, Merle, she’s dancing with.”
“Oh, look, there you are!” Polly cried. “Beth, your dress is delicious!”
“Thanks.” Beth’s voice softened. “Isn’t Sonny handsome?”
“Only in a Mel Gibson/George Clooney kind of way,” Julia joked. Pressing a button, she fast-forwarded through the next few seconds, stopping the tape at a shot of a black-haired older woman in a navy blue dress standing close to a beautiful blonde wearing a sheath of pale blue.
“Oh, my gosh,” Beth squealed. “You guys, there’s Sonny’s mom talking with Robin! Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Only in a Gwyneth Paltrow with big bo
obs kind of way,” Carolyn said.
“You’re as lovely as she is,” Polly loyally assured Beth.
“Sssh,” Julia said. “Listen.”
They all listened as the camera left Bobbie and Robin. It panned around the room, and they could tell Julia was walking now, the camera on her shoulder just slightly jiggling. When it steadied, it was focused on a back view of Sonny’s mother and Robin.
“. . . admit it’s just hopeless,” Robin was saying. “I mean, look at Sonny’s face. He’s in love with her.”
“Turn up the volume,” Carolyn said.
“It’s at the max already,” Julia told her. “This is the best I could do for sound.”
“. . . not hopeless.” Bobbie put her arm around Robin. “Come on, honey, you know Sonny’s just having a little fling before settling down.”
Beth screamed. “A little fling!”
“Quiet,” Julia ordered.
“. . . not so sure.”
“Well, I am.” Bobbie’s face set firmly. She looked like a general surveying her troops. “See this crowd? They’re our friends. They’re our world. Sonny doesn’t want to lose all this. He’s just sowing his wild oats before he settles down.”
“Wild oats,” Beth whimpered.
On-screen, Robin shook her head. “Bobbie, that girl is wearing Sonny’s engagement ring.”
“So what? They haven’t set a wedding date yet. If I have my way, they never will. You’re part of our family. You are meant to marry Sonny.”
Robin shook her head. “I’m not so sure.”
“I am. This is my family we’re talking about. I don’t like that girl and I don’t want her in it. I wish I’d pushed her harder when we were ice skating. I wished she’d cracked her head and died instead of just falling—”
A sixtyish man with a bulbous red nose stumbled up, interrupting them. “Where’s the bride?” he bellowed, holding out his arms. “Haven’t had a dance yet!”
“Yeah, Stan, but you’ve had enough to drink, that’s for sure.” Bobbie rolled her eyes at Robin, but allowed Stan to lead her to the dance floor.
The screen went staticky, then blank. Julia clicked the VCR off. “How ‘bout them apples?”
