Same Old Truths (The Reluctant Avenger)

by Delora Dennis

  7

  Disappointment, Thy Name is Sapphire Moon

  With a sigh of contentment, Kay nestled a little deeper into her mattress. Sleeping in on a Saturday morning had to be one of life’s more-delicious pleasures. The week was over, mercifully taking with it the pressures of raising two growing kids and an exacting boss. She was free!

  Kay lifted her head to turn her pillow in search of a cool spot. Once satisfactorily repositioned, she tried to drift off back to sleep. The image of an unhappy Mariah at her dad’s tried to sneak in and disturb the peace, but Kay shooed it away. Even if Mariah might not be having the best of times, Kay, nevertheless, knew her little girl was safe. And Cory was off on her camping trip having the time of her 12 year old life, unconcerned about parents, step-parents or siblings. Yes. Kay could lay down the heavy mantle of motherhood without guilt or worry…at least for the next two days, anyway.

  Camping! The 7:00 singles meeting!

  So successfully had Kay put the event out of her mind lest her anticipation cause the week to go by any slower than it already had, the out-of-left-field-reminder hit her with a jolt. If there was any hope of going back to sleep, it was gone. Kay rolled over on her back, drew up her knees and folded her hands across her stomach. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, faced with making some very critical decisions.

  What was she going to wear?

  How should she do her hair?

  What kind of nosh should she bring? (a follow-up email from Virginia informed Kay the refreshments were provided pot-luck style)

  How would she handle it if some guy hit on her?

  Stop. Remember, it’s just about the houseboat weekend.

  There was no use spending anymore time in bed. Robed and slippered she padded to the bathroom, humming as she happily anticipated the mind and body cleansing benefits of a hot shower.

  * * *

  It took three trips around the same block to convince a stubborn Kay she should pull over and re-check Virginia’s directions. She immediately realized her mistake. She had made a right turn one street too soon. When she finally pulled up in front of the house she still wasn’t sure she was in the right place. It looked deserted. Where were all the cars? She checked the house number again. It was correct. Could she have gotten the date wrong? Why didn’t she think to write Virginia’s number on the directions?

  She sat there for a few moments, her uncertainty and disappointment urging her to head on home. But she had come too far to turn back now. Kay was going to make the best of it.

  She approached the front door with all the confidence of someone who knew they were “lookin’ hot.” She was the picture of casual sophistication in her skinny jeans, bulky maroon pullover accented with a gray, cable knit scarf and finished off with tan, suede trooper boots. Kay looked like a “professional” single who knew how to relax and have fun.

  Suddenly a picture of Sandy, in her old-lady denim jumper and sensible shoes, with a well-dressed, handsome Dave at her side, popped into her head. She would never be able to understand what Dave found attractive about his new “old lady.”

  I guess there’s just no accounting for taste.

  Kay rang the doorbell and stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The anticipation of discovering what awaited her on the other side was too much for her to keep still. She was looking down, carefully transferring the bamboo, insulated food tote from one hand to the other when the door finally opened. She looked up, expecting to see Virginia, but instead was greeted by one of the most unattractive men she had ever seen.

  The instant he saw Kay he opened his eyes wide to take her all in, causing his fore - make that five - head to slide from front to back. A thin little tiara of curly hair arched over his head from ear to ear in a goofy kind of halo.

  His obvious delight at seeing her was as instant as her second disappointment of the evening, which she hoped wasn’t as evident. “Well, h e l l o,” he sang, with a creepy excitement. “Here. Let me help you with that.” He thrust his arm forward to grab for the tote.

  “Oh thanks,” she responded with all the grace she could muster. “It was starting to get a little heavy.”

  Kay avoided making eye contact with him during the hand-off, lest she be devoured by another hungry leer. Once the tote was securely in his hand, he took a step back to allow Kay to enter the house.

  “Everyone’s in the kitchen,” he said, gesturing with his chin upward to the right. Kay took off in that direction, with her eager helper close behind. “My name is Delbert Shoemacher, by the way.”

  Of course it is.

  “Nice to meet you, Delbert,” she said. “I’m Kay Manning.”

  The kitchen was abuzz with a small mix of men and women busy putting out their snacks. Disappointment #3 was realizing there were more women than men. All the men in attendance seem to fit into a general “nerdy” category. Kay made an effort to push disappointment #4 out of her mind.

  Just then, Virginia who was standing at the sink trying to break up a bag of ice with a metal meat tenderizer, spotted Kay, smiled and shouted, “Kay! I’m so glad you could make it.”

  With Virginia’s friendly greeting, Kay finally felt comfortable enough to enter the kitchen the rest of the way.

  “Would you like me to put your bag on the table?” Delbert asked, reminding Kay he was still behind her.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot you were there,” she said. She relieved Delbert of his burden.

  “Yeah. That happens a lot,” Delbert responded with a tone of fatalistic resignation. Kay felt a sudden pang of guilt, sorry her innocent comment may have been taken the wrong way. But looking at Delbert it was easy to see why he didn’t stay on many women’s radar.

  Rather than make things worse by trying to explain herself, Kay changed the subject. “Do you like chile con queso?” she asked as she removed the small crock pot from the bottom of her insulated tote.

  To no one’s surprise, Delbert answered, “Well, not exactly. I’m lactose intolerant. The last time I tried to eat some of that stuff you couldn’t get near me for the horrible gas.”

  Is there a school somewhere that teaches these guys the fine art of nerdery?

  But because she felt obligated to reciprocate his kindness she offered him a little empathy for his delicate digestive disorder. “Really? That’s too bad. I have a cousin who suffers from the same thing,” she lied.

  Luckily, Virginia showed up and saved Kay from the inelegant conversation. “Oh, your queso looks great. Do you use the Tio Taco chiles?”

  “Is there any other kind?” Kay said with a laugh.

  Floundering there with nothing more to say, Delbert shoved his hands in his pockets and slunk away from the table. He was quickly replaced by a very tall, slender man who walked up to Virgina. “Sorry to interrupt, Virginia, but we’ve got all the chairs set up.”

  “Thanks, Lance,” Virginia said. She turned and addressed the small group in the kitchen. “Hey, listen everyone. We’re about to get started. If you’ve got your dish on the table you can start making your way to the living room.” She gently waved the remaining people away from the refreshments and toward the kitchen door. Then she turned back to Kay. “C’mon Kay. I’m looking forward to introducing you to the group.”

  Virginia’s living room had a large, sunken, horseshoe-shaped conversation pit carved out of one end of the room, protected by a low decorative wrought iron fence around the outer edge. Kay walked down the three steps and took her seat among the folding chairs placed along the wall of the pit. The placement of the chairs made for easy reconnaissance of all in attendance.

  Kay counted six men and nine women - ten if you included Virginia - not exactly the teeming throng she had pictured during her phone conversation with Virginia. Kay’s guessed ages ranged from the low 40s to the mid 60s. And from the look of things, no one, it seems, had felt overly compelled to fix themselves up. They all looked clean and groomed, but their clothes screamed, “I couldn’t be bothered.�
� But then Kay realized she felt overdressed because she was the new kid. Everyone here had already made their debut and could now relax.

  Virginia stood up in front of the group and got the meeting going. After a few announcements (the meeting was moving to the second Saturday of the month; membership has now topped 38), and reminders (please don’t block the neighbors’ driveways; don’t forget the donation basket on your way out), Virginia smiled and said, “It gives me great pleasure to welcome Kay Manning to our group. Kay was the first person to answer my ad and the first person I interviewed and invited to join.” Virginia looked at Kay and winked. “Unfortunately, the body shop where she works keeps her so busy this is the first opportunity she’s had to come and introduce herself to everyone. Kay?” Virginia sat down, turning the floor over to Kay.

  Kay stood up to a smattering of polite applause. Everyone was staring up at her, waiting to see evidence of Virginia’s endorsement as the group’s wonderful maiden candidate.

  “Hi everyone. It’s a pleasure to be a part of this group and I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you personally. Thank you.” And with that she sat down.

  “Aren’t you going to tell us a little about yourself?” a pudgy man with a bad case of rosacea and a wide gap between his front teeth interjected.

  “Oh,” Kay said from her seat. She stood again and said, “Right.” She hadn’t been prepared to speak. “Well, let’s see. Like Virginia said, my name is Kay Manning. I was born and raised here - graduated from local schools. I’m a working mom, raising two girls, Cory, twelve and Mariah nine.”

  She was about to clear up any misconception Virginia may have created with her little body shop joke, when the man who parted his teeth in the middle beat her to the punch. “Do you work on foreign cars?” he asked innocently.

  Kay looked over at Virginia who was obviously delighted by the question. “Well…” she began tentatively, “We…I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  “Jim. Jim Blake,” the man answered. Kay thought he might be blushing but she couldn’t tell because of his rosacea.

  “Well, Jim, I do work in a body shop, but it’s not the automotive kind. It’s the dead kind.” She was trying to keep things light.

  He looked at her as if she was speaking Chinese. Some of the others in the group were starting to get it and a little giggle went around the half-circle.

  “I’m an apprentice funeral director, Jim. I work in a mortuary. But, I’d be happy to refer you to the guy who works on my Honda.”

  Kay could have sworn that, in a split second, Jim’s face displayed three of the Five Stages of Grief. But it wasn’t anything she hadn’t encountered a hundred times before. When someone learned about her profession, they reacted either with horror, curiosity or admiration. It usually depended on the extent of their personal experience with death and dying. Making fun of her job was an easy way to move past the inevitable awkwardness. But she was used to it. It came with the territory.

  Kay didn’t have anything more to say so she sat down. Her only purpose for being here was to find out about the houseboat weekend.

  Let’s get on with it.

  Virginia launched into the group’s scheduled presentation. Tonight’s was on the importance of making positive first impressions. Kay wondered how professional these people could be if they had to be lectured about stuff they should have learned in high school.

  Virginia’s remedial tutorial finally came to an end and she turned the meeting over to Carol Ann, the head of the planning committee for the houseboat weekend.

  The attractive forty-something, buxom blond, with big blue eyes and chicklet-white teeth walked authoritatively to the front of the group, clipboard in hand. She stood there for a moment, nervously flipping the top page back and forth as if she was looking for something that had previously been there but was now gone.

  “Ok,” the woman began, “We’ve run into some problems with the houseboat rental.”

  Low murmuring rumbled through the group.

  “First of all, I found out it’s not going to make sense to rent two boats. The smallest boat they have sleeps twelve and it costs around $1000 for the weekend.”

  She paused for reactions, but the group was silent. So she went on. “But then I was told to add another 50% to cover gasoline and food. With twelve people that would come to around $125 a piece.”

  That’s a deal!

  Kay enthusiastically nodded.

  “Unfortunately, as of today, only four people have confirmed,” she said. There was a disapproving edge in her voice. “We have to send a deposit by the end of next week so unless we can get at least six more people to sign up, ASAP, I don’t know if it’s going to be worth it.”

  Kay did a quick calculation in her head. If she signed up, and nobody else did, it was going to be a $300 weekend. And while she didn’t mind spending the money, it was a little steep for being locked up in close quarters with four people she didn’t know…or worse…the gassy Delbert Shoemacher.

  In an effort to entice more sign-ups, Carol Ann took a brochure from her clipboard and asked Virginia to pass it around. But with the speed at which the pamphlet was traveling around the semi circle, one could assume interest was minimal.

  It finally reached Kay. She took one look at the cover picture of the long, sleek, Sapphire Moon docked at the marina just waiting to welcome the next group of weekend revelers, and she was overcome with the urge to jump up and scream, “What’s wrong with you people?” Instead, she just looked longingly at the pictures in the inner folds which showcased the luxurious style and comfort of the boat’s interior. She let out a sigh, imagining being lulled to sleep by the sound of gentle waves as they lapped up against the side of the boat while she relaxed in one of the six private staterooms. Was that a gas barbecue grill she spotted on the topside deck, next to a long line of lounge chairs?

  Virginia spoke up from her chair. “As some of you may know, one of the playoff games is being televised tonight. I’m assuming that’s the reason for our small turnout this evening. Carol Ann, do you think it would be worth it to contact every member with one last reminder and see if we can possibly get six more people to sign up?”

  “It might be,” Carol Ann answered, “but I’m very busy this week and I don’t think I’ll have time to do it” It was obvious Carol Ann was tiring of her role as planning committee chair.

  “How about your committee? Is there somebody who might be willing to help out?” Virginia asked, not ready to let this go.

  “Well, neither Phyllis or Alvin are here, and they weren’t all that helpful. Frankly, I wouldn’t be comfortable asking them to do this.”

  If there was any hope of keeping the weekend on the Sapphire Moon afloat, Kay was watching it quickly sail into the sunset. It seems no one’s heart was in it and Kay was totally baffled as to why.

  “I have to tell you Virginia, I think most people signed up for this group to meet someone they could go out with, one on one,” Carol Ann said. “I mean, who wants to go on a date with a group…especially a date that lasts three days?”

  “I understand, Carol Ann. But if you recall, there was a lot of support for changing things up from these “humdrum” monthly meetings and everyone seemed really excited about doing the houseboat thing.” She turned to the group and said, “Maybe we should put this up for a vote.”

  Long, lanky Lance spoke up. “That doesn’t seem fair with so many members absent. Maybe we should postpone a vote until next time.”

  “How’s that supposed to work?” Carol Ann sneered. “Boating season will be over before our next meeting. We’d be voting on a weekend for next summer.”

  “Well, I’m going to make an executive decision,” Virginia declared. “We need to finish what we started. Carol Ann, I’d like you to send one last email to everyone on the membership list.”

  “That’s a lot of emails, Virginia. I told you I don’t have time,” Carol Ann said.

  “No, that’s one email, mass-
mailed to everyone on the membership list. If you stay for a few minutes after the meeting I’ll show you how to do it. Give them the information you presented here tonight, along with a deadline to respond. We can even scan the brochure and attach it to the message. Give them the link to my email address, and I will manage the responses.”

  Kay was hoping Virginia’s “take-charge” attitude might just turn things around.

  Carol Ann was not finished throwing up roadblocks. “But how are we going to collect the money? Does this group have a bank account? How will you pay the deposit?”

  By the way Virginia was standing there chewing her bottom lip, Kay thought her next executive decision would be to fire Carol Ann and her committee. But she just shook her head, sighed. “It’s my fault for not checking in with your committee, Carol Ann. I just assumed you guys were handling all these details.”

  Carol Ann opened her mouth to make an excuse, but Virginia cut her off by addressing the group. “Well, it’s clear the time constraints involved with tying up all these loose ends mean the houseboat weekend is probably a no-go.” Then she glared at Carol Ann and said, “But we’re still going to send that email and let everyone know what’s going on. Maybe we can give it another try in the spring.”

  If there was anything else on the agenda it was clear Virginia didn’t have the wherewithal to bring it up. She was done. The meeting adjourned to the kitchen and Kay asked for directions to the bathroom. She needed to splash a little cold water on her face.

  “Well Kay, that’s what you get for not listening to your gut,” she said aloud to herself in the mirror. She had wasted a gorgeous outfit, not to mention an entire Saturday evening. Kay knew she wouldn’t be making this mistake again.

  Oh well, you probably dodged a bullet.

  She pictured Delbert Shoemacher standing on the topside deck of the boat, clad in Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirt, black socks and sandals, big straw beach hat with the frayed edges, offering her a pina colada with that hungry wolf leer while he ripped a big, stinky, lactose-intolerant fart.

  As much as she wanted to, Kay knew she couldn’t hide in bathroom all night. With a deep breath, she rejoined the group in the kitchen standing at the refreshment table chatting while they plunged chips into dip, speared cocktail franks with toothpicks, and built slider-sized sandwiches from an array of cold cuts and cheese. Nothing appealed to her, including the conversation. Luckily, she spotted a makeshift bar set up on one end of the table and made a bee line for the bottle of red wine so graciously provided by someone who clearly understood the need for liquor at this queer gathering.