“Maybe you can rent it out.”
“I doubt it. Space in Indy isn’t at the premium it is in New York. From what I understand, no one in Euliss ever moves.” I’d actually heard of elderly people adding their children to their leases so their apartment would stay in the family after they died. Rich people will their jewelry. Po’ folks leave their heirs apartments that rent for six hundred dollars when the going rate is sixteen hundred. “In Indy there are plenty of vacancies. But I’ll talk to my friends and coworkers. Maybe someone knows someone who needs a furnished rental for a couple of months.”
“How long do you think it’ll take you to get everything done out there?” Cissy asked.
“It’ll take as long as it takes,” I said testily. I wouldn’t stand for being rushed, and Cissy’s eagerness to wrap this up so she could return to Pittsburgh with a clear conscience annoyed me. Her disregard for how a move to Euliss would affect my life and my wallet was glaring. I couldn’t believe she and Sonny could overlook a detail this important, since they seemed to have worked out everything else. Money made things happen. It’s the flour in the cake.
“It depends on what I do with the house,” I said. “I’d like to rent it furnished, but I might not be able to. If that’s the case, all my furniture will have to go in storage,” I said, the very thought of packing up seven years’ worth of accumulated possessions making my stomach twirl more violently than a ride on the Octopus at the amusement park. “I’ll have to check the job market here, too. My mortgage and possibly storage bill will have to be paid, whether I have a tenant or not. That might be difficult to do without a job,” I added pointedly.
“Sonny and I already talked about that, and we decided to give you some money if you came back, a total of five hundred a month for three months. It’s the least we can do, with you making such a big sacrifice. But you know Mom won’t accept any money from you. She doesn’t really need it; Pop took good care of her financially. She just wants you to make sure you’ve got all your stuff covered.
“And you won’t have much of a problem finding work,” Cissy continued. “There are plenty of doctor’s offices, clinics, and medical centers here in Westchester, and of course some of the best hospitals in the world are in the city, if you’re willing to commute. Health care is a great field, one of the few that’s growing.”
“Yeah, right.” I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, in spite of Cissy making it sound like I was moving to Sesame Street. God, I couldn’t believe I’d consented to returning to Euliss, a city I hated. I liked living in Indianapolis, but it wasn’t like I was leaving anything—or anyone—of tremendous importance behind. But I had a good life in Indy.
And in Indy I had my own place. I never thought I’d come back home at age forty-two to live with my mother, and that would take a lot of getting used to.
Mom lived in an early-twentieth-century house, originally a large private home that had been converted into apartments. She and Pop downsized from a larger two-bedroom unit to a one bedroom after I moved to Indy. It was on a quiet cul-de-sac off of the main drag, and because of that it looked like less of a concrete jungle than other parts of the city. The parking situation wasn’t too bad, either. At least the city hadn’t yet gotten greedy enough to install parking meters, like it had in other residential areas of the city, usually around high-rises with large populations. But because there was only one bedroom, I would have to sleep on the sofa bed. I was a little old to be camping out on anybody’s Castro convertible, even on a temporary basis, but I supposed it couldn’t be helped.
Chapter 3
The bloom, as they say, was off the rose.
It certainly hadn’t taken long. We buried Pop the day before yesterday, and already I was wondering how I was going to cope with living in Euliss again. The old town was dirtier and noisier than ever, a fact I was made aware of every time I left my mother’s quiet street. Crumpled milk cartons and soft drink cans and bottles missed by the alleged street-sweeping machines lined the curbs. A variety of hip-hop CDs, with language too raw to be played on the radio, competed for listeners at top volume on boom boxes positioned in windows like fans. And the street was full of vehicles in desperate need of Midasizing.
I went to the supermarket for Mom the other day. Residents on the black side of town—Euliss might be in New York, but it’s segregated, just like 1950s Alabama, with blacks and Latinos for the most part kept west of the dividing line—were thrilled when a major chain opened in the neighborhood with the promise that its prices would be the same as they were at its location across town. This was a novelty, because its competitors’ prices at their stores in the black and Latino neighborhoods bordered on larceny, like two dollars for a single green pepper. Not a more exotic red or yellow pepper, but an ordinary green one. I doubt Leona Helmsley would have paid two dollars for a single green pepper…unless it was for that dog she left all her money to. I can hear her telling her maid, “Skip the green peppers. Only the little people eat them.”
Anyway, the first thing I saw upon entering the market that was the crown jewel of Euliss’s west side—a windowless dull brown brick structure that reminded me of a prison—was a crudely hand-lettered sign that said, PLEASE DO NOT SPIT ON THE FLOOR. I rolled my eyes. People in Scarsdale don’t have to put up with this shit.
I kept reminding myself why I was here. Mom needed me. Sonny’s circumstances in terms of proximity and time off made him the ideal candidate, but I also didn’t want to contribute to any more problems between him and Nell. They’d been married thirty years, and I was fond of my sister-in-law. I also knew firsthand how difficult it was to survive infidelity. Nell must be a better woman than I, because I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If I’d stayed married to Al, I would have spent the rest of my life worrying about what he was doing every minute he was out of my sight. Frankly, I felt I deserved better. But staying with Sonny was Nell’s choice, and I respected it.
I found myself looking forward to dinner at Rosalind’s. We’d spoken on the phone, and I knew she’d kept the gathering small, six people. Besides Wayne, Dr. Merritt, and me, the only other guest would be our old classmate Tanis Montgomery. Tanis was married, but her husband, an agent who represented both East and West Coast actors, was often in California.
Because we were on the phone, Rosalind couldn’t see how my lip curled when she said Tanis’s name. Not that I disliked Tanis. It’s just that I’d been hearing about her most of my life, and I was sick of her.
Her mother, Mavis Montgomery, and mine, plus two other women, including Mavis’s sister, Winifred Woods, had been getting together twice a month—right after their husbands got their paychecks—to play bid whist for as long as I could remember. Since it was impossible to put four women in a room without some bragging taking place, I always heard about Tanis’s accomplishments. From my childhood, my mother, wearing an animated expression like she was a news anchor, regularly passed on tidbits like, “Tanis is going to do a solo at the dance recital,” “Tanis is entering the contest to win Miss Euliss High,” “Tanis is dating that star football player,” and “Tanis was voted Best Personality for the yearbook.” I knew Mom didn’t consciously mean to, but her recounting of Tanis’s achievements only served to make me feel like an also-ran.
I’d gone to the same dance school as Tanis had, but while she was graceful, my skills were merely adequate. Even at the age of nine I seriously considered tripping her so she’d sprain her ankle and wouldn’t be able to do her solo. Conscience prevailed, and I wisely left it alone. By high school I wasn’t much interested in extracurricular activities. All I wanted to do was keep my grades up so I could get a scholarship, and I enjoyed hearing my mother brag to Mavis how I’d made the honor roll. I worked as a volunteer candy striper, and Tanis took a job at a local supermarket and managed to get promoted to the customer service desk after just a few months. Hearing my mother’s muted response to Mavis’s news about Tanis’s promotion (“Emily works for no pay because she wants to be a
nurse, Mavis”) nearly broke my heart.
It didn’t help that people sometimes got us confused. We were about the same height, both of us had skin the color of a walnut, and both of us had long hair, which we’d worn in braids as children. My hair was coarse, but Tanis’s hair had waves in it, which she’d inherited from her father. Of course, she’d gotten her oversized nose from him as well.
While we were in college I got a break. I was the one to make the dean’s list while Tanis was busy being sociable, and Mom actually snickered at Tanis being a theater major. “She needs to study something she can fall back on, like teaching,” she had said. Unfortunately for me, the feelings of being on top ended when Tanis went out to California to pursue an acting career. Mom now delivered her news with increasing excitement. “Tanis got a McDonald’s commercial.” “Tanis is going to be the model on that game show, Go for the Gold.” “Tanis is doing a guest spot on that TV show I always watch.”
Oh, yes, I knew all about Tanis. I heard about her husband, Rob Renfroe, even before they got engaged. Originally he’d been her manager, or agent, or whatever they call it. When they got married I heard about what they served at the reception (prime rib), and when her children were born Mom told me all the details, that her son, whom she’d had first (naturally), weighed eight pounds five ounces, and that the daughter she gave birth to a few years later entered the world at a dainty six pounds nine ounces.
I knew that Tanis and Rob moved back to New York when he decided to go bicoastal and manage the careers of East Coast stage actors as well. I heard all about their fabulous house on Long Island Sound, and how Tanis landed a recurring role on a drama filmed in New York. The big news that had come out just before Pop died was that she now had a regular part, a supporting role on a new show from the same producers.
I’d seen her on TV a couple of times. She hadn’t changed much since high school except for one thing. Funny that with all the details of Tanis’s life Mavis Montgomery proudly proclaimed to my mother, she forgot to mention that Tanis had gotten her nose thinned.
It would be interesting to see Tanis in person after all this time. She was a working actress trying to keep steady employment. I worked as a physician’s assistant in my white smock, performing physical exams and writing prescriptions, often for people who sneezed uncontrollably on everything in sight, including me.
Okay, so the competitive edge in me was alive and well. But maybe when I saw her this time I could finally drop the feeling of being second best.
“I’m going out tonight, Mom,” I remarked Friday morning as I made my breakfast in the kitchen and she sat eating hers at the adjoining dinette.
“Oh, Emmie, I’m so glad. You don’t want to sit around the house all the time. Where are you going?”
“To a small dinner party at Rosalind Hunter’s. She used to be Rosalind Gill. You remember her; she spoke to you at Pop’s wake.”
“Oh, yes. The girl who married the white boy.”
My mother and her friends might not know Rosalind’s name, but they all remembered whom she’d married, even after nearly twenty years. Rosalind had become a Euliss legend.
“Yes. They live in New Rochelle now.”
“Ooh, nice. Maybe you’ll meet a nice man there.”
I hesitated, not sure if I should mention Aaron Merritt or not. After all, even he didn’t know Rosalind’s motives. “Uh…actually, Rosalind is sort of pairing me with someone eligible. He’s an oncologist.”
Mom put down her coffee cup with a suddenly shaking hand. Under other circumstances I would have been concerned that she was having a seizure, but since I’d just announced I’d be dining with a single physician I knew it was excitement, not anything medical.
“An oncologist!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. If she was a cartoon character her pupils would have transformed into dollar signs. “How wonderful! What are you wearing?” And then the question I knew was coming: “And what on earth will you do with your hair?”
I’d always had difficulty managing my hair, so I’d worn it natural since deciding that I had neither the time nor the money to invest in monthly salon visits. Mom disapproved, believing nappy hair was suitable only for little girls. But at least now they made Afro combs with thick, wide teeth, which made combing it a snap. Until that product became available when I was about four, all Mom could do was brush it because those combs they made for white folks just didn’t work on us.
“I figured I’d wear my black and white polka-dotted dress. It’s the only other one I brought, and that solid black with the peplum I wore to Pop’s funeral is too somber, don’t you think?”
“Yes. But what about your hair?” she persisted.
“I’ll just pin it up, I guess.”
Mom took a casual bite of her buttered kaiser roll. I knew she was thinking. I just hoped she wouldn’t start with something like, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” and then proceed to say something insulting. I loved my mother, but Miss Manners she wasn’t. I swear, I remember someone once telling her they were receiving obscene phone calls, and damned if Mom didn’t ask what the caller had said.
“Emmie,” she began, “go to the beauty parlor. I’ll get my regular operator to squeeze you in, and I’ll even pay for it. Try a relaxer again. It’ll look beautiful, especially with your streak.”
Over the years I’d developed a gray streak about a half inch wide that ran down my crown and was slowly extending. I didn’t mind it getting longer; I just hoped it didn’t get any wider. I didn’t relish looking like a damn raccoon.
“I don’t know, Mom.”
“It’ll be my gift to you. You can even get your nails done.”
“I can afford to pamper myself a little, Mom.” My, I sounded confident for someone who had a mortgage to pay and who was about to quit her job. “But I always look so perfect when I leave the salon, and then when I wash it myself it loses its luster.”
“You’ll be fine, Emmie. You have me to help you.” She leaned in, placing a slightly gnarled hand on my forearm. “Think of the possibilities. He’s a doctor, so you already know he’s rich and successful. If he turns out to be good-looking, too, that’s a bonus.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Why do you suppose no one has snapped him up yet?”
I didn’t tell her he’d been widowed because I didn’t know how she’d react, so I merely shrugged.
“I want you to look perfect tonight,” she said. She pulled her hand away and leaned back in her chair, staring at me meaningfully as she sipped her coffee. Finally, she shared her true thought with me. Not that I really needed to be reminded of it.
“Besides, this might be your last chance.”
At six o’clock I ran my newly manicured fingers through my newly relaxed and wrapped hair. Mom was right—it did look nice. I’d gotten the stylist to even out the ends, but even after the trim it still fell nearly to my shoulder blades. I shook my head, and my hair bounced. I felt just like one of those Breck girls from the old TV commercials.
“You look lovely, Emmie,” Mom said.
“Do you think I should pin my hair up?” I knew that, having been an old wife herself, Mom subscribed to that old wives’ rule about forty being the absolute cutoff for women to wear long hair loose.
But she surprised me. “No, I think it looks perfect just the way it is. You can get away with it. They do things differently now. Years ago, if a woman in her forties wore her hair loose it would be the talk of the town….”
Didn’t I know it. There was nothing like a fashion faux pas to get the people of Euliss talking. “Do you remember the time Valerie Woods showed up in church in slacks and no hat?” I asked. Even after twenty-odd years, rumors still persisted that she was on drugs. Like a drug addict is really going to show up regularly for Sunday services. Now slacks on women in church are commonplace, and no one wears hats anymore.
Mom chuckled. “Oh, yes, I do. You know, that girl was always a handful. She broke her father’s heart. If you ask me, that was wha
t killed him.”
I rolled my eyes. Why did people of my mother’s generation believe that heart attacks were caused by anything other than a bad heart? Still, there could be no question that Valerie’s handling of her private life had disappointed Paul and Winifred Woods. I never understood Valerie’s desire to have all those children as a single parent. I remember seeing her and her first daughter during a quick visit home to check on Mom, who’d been hospitalized with a severe sinus infection. Valerie looked so happy, and the chubby-cheeked baby was so cute. Looking at her all dressed up in pink made me actually want to lean over her and mumble baby talk to her, an action I’d always previously dismissed as, well, stupid. “I know you’re wondering why I did it,” she’d said to me. “I figured it this way. I’m twenty-seven with a good career and no prospects for marriage. I don’t want to miss out on being a mom, and I also don’t want to do it when I’m forty.”
I could sympathize with how she felt, but I couldn’t help feeling that she’d given up way too soon. So what, she was twenty-seven. Unlike her Halle Berry wannabe cousin Tanis, Valerie majored in business in college. She’d been working as a seminar instructor and, according to Winifred Woods’s bragging to my mother, was doing rather well. Didn’t her job bring her into contact with eligible professional men? And wouldn’t having a baby make it more difficult for her to land a husband?
Valerie’s attitude toward marriage did raise an obvious question, and I had decided to ask, since we went back to the playpen. “What about the baby’s father?”
She’d brushed it off with a grin. “Not husband material, but he had great genes.”
So she’d found herself a good-looking, worthless stud to impregnate her. I wonder if he’d known she was only in it for his sperm. Did she even bother to tell him he was about to become a father? Somehow I doubted she’d go after the poor sap for child support.
I did hope that one day she would meet her Mr. Right and live happily ever after. I was happily married at the time—at least I thought I was—and believed everyone’s soul mate was just waiting to be uncovered. I’ve since removed those glasses that tinted everything rose colored.
A New Kind of Bliss Page 3
