by Rita Lakin
Hy stands with a group of the men. Undoubtedly he’s telling one of his dirty jokes. I can tell by the leering looks on the guys’ faces. The joke must be over because raucous laughter follows. The wives know to stay away. The jokes are mostly antifemale. Tessie, whose husband, Sol, is one of Hy’s most loyal followers, has been threatening to smack him around one of these days. And with her weight and height advantage, she just might be able to do it.
“Maybe she isn’t coming,” Arlene says hopefully. “I think I should go home.”
“Give it a little more time, Arlene. You’re going to have to face her eventually. At least tonight you’re among friends.”
Here come Sophie and Bella fairly bouncing along. Ida has found some of her mah-jongg pals and stopped to chat with them. I can bet she intends to keep away from us tonight. The twosome, however, come over to say hello.
So I ask, “How was your PI class?”
Sophie says, “Really great. Our teacher is one tough-looking hombre. He looks like Humphrey Bogart and we’re gonna learn a lot.”
Bella giggles. “I already picked out a trench coat. Just like Sam Spade. Did you know those tough characters wore leather buckles on the sleeves?”
What can I say? Their insensitivity to the matter of having dumped our own partnership defies logic. “Very nice. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
Suddenly Arlene touches my arm. “She’s here.”
Coming through the doorway is tall, hunched-over Leah Andrews escorting her brother’s new tenant, whom she must have only met this morning. Leah always looks anxious, as if the world is out to get her, but tonight her face is more pinched than usual. She’s obviously not comfortable having to tell everyone Seymour’s away and here’s an unexpected stranger who’s taken over his condo. I’m sure the question everyone wants to ask is where on earth did Seymour go?
Bella points to Joyce Steiner. “She’s here again?”
Surprised, I ask, “Who are you looking at?”
“The red-haired lady who came with Leah.”
“Have you seen her before?”
“Yeah, she was wandering around about a month ago.”
Before I can query her further, Sophie pulls on her. “Come on, let’s move it. They just brought out more chocolate chip cookies.”
Clueless about Arlene’s tension, off they go. Sophie waves and calls back at me, “We’ll keep you informed.”
Arlene practically hides behind me, her head bent down. Leah is marching Joyce around to each group introducing her to the other neighbors.
Evvie comes over to join me. I’ve already filled her in with what I know about the two women. She glances at the nervous Arlene, who looks very pale.
Arlene speaks in a low, tight voice. “It’s her.”
Evvie and I study the lady who gave Arlene so much pain. She and Arlene are the same age, but Joyce looks as if she had one face-lift too many. Her skin is sallow despite a layer of cosmetics. Her cheeks seem rigid and inflexible. Her red hair is very thin as well. Too many bleach jobs? Her clothes are expensive, no doubt about that. She had or still has a lot of money. She wears an elegant Chanel-style pantsuit. Where Arlene has aged gracefully, this woman seems as if she’s been to hell and back.
Arlene whispers, “She’s coming this way.”
I watch Joyce, drink in hand as she greets the other residents. She’s cool but friendly enough.
Arlene stiffens as Leah and Joyce reach us. “I’d like to introduce you to our new tenant,” Leah announces, trying to hide any feelings she has about this strange turn of events. “Joyce Steiner, who’s subletting Seymour’s apartment. She asked me to introduce her to everyone.”
There’s a silence as Arlene doesn’t dare look at Joyce. I watch this newcomer with a smile pasted on her face as if she’s bored and going through the motions.
Evvie fills the void, but I don’t take my eyes off the two women. “So we heard through the grapevine, Seymour’s gone off on some trip?”
Leah says, “He’s taken it upon himself to go on a vacation or something. I walked in one morning to make his breakfast and there was a letter telling me he’d be back, maybe in six months, and he’d already sublet to Mrs. Steiner.”
“How so unlike Seymour,” Evvie comments.
“You’re telling me? You could have blown me away with a feather.” I sense Leah trying to hide her hurt feelings. With a pinch of anger, as well, for his ingratitude?
Suddenly Joyce Steiner shrieks, “Arlene? Is that you? Arlene!” She peers through her glasses to see better and moves closer for another look.
Arlene finally glances up. She shrivels up and says nothing.
Joyce rushes to Arlene and throws her arms around her, hugging and kissing her cheeks. Arlene is tugged away from my arm. “I can’t believe it!” Joyce glows with happiness as she addresses the group of us. “This is my dear, dear friend Arlene. We haven’t seen each other in a gazillion years!”
Arlene pulls away, out of Joyce’s grasp.
As an animated Joyce turns and faces each of us, showing her delight, Arlene whispers, “Fifty-five years and three months to be exact.”
I’m the only one who hears her.
Joyce shakes her head in wonder. “What a fantastic coincidence. I searched for you everywhere and I never could find you. And here you are! And look at you! You look gorgeous.” She laughs. “Me, I look like an old hag, but you!”
Arlene stares at Joyce as Joyce twists her fingers around a gold necklace. I recognize it as the Chai, a Jewish symbol of good luck. Arlene seems riveted by the sight of it.
Suddenly Arlene grimaces and clutches her stomach. She says, “Excuse me,” and then runs off.
Joyce looks after her, eyes still shining. “This is the happiest day of my life. I found my best friend again.”
I find it fascinating that she’s oblivious to Arlene’s response.
Leah leaves us, glad to deposit her new tenant with me. Evvie has gone to the bathroom to see if Arlene needs help. I’m curious to hear what Joyce will say or do now. She still seems to be on cloud nine.
“I’ll bet she’s in shock. I am, too. I just can’t believe how lucky I am to find her.”
I try for a reality check. “Arlene seems upset to see you again.”
Joyce manages a rueful smile. “I suppose I can’t blame her. I’m ashamed to say, I stole away her husband. But so many years have passed, I thought surely she got over our little breakup.”
“Apparently not.”
“Well, to tell the truth, I didn’t get that great a deal. Ed was a rotten husband. These doctors have such God complexes. They’re loyal only to themselves. Frankly, I did her a favor by taking him off her hands. She would have divorced him sooner or later.”
I think it, but I don’t say it: Maybe if he’d stayed with Arlene, the marriage might have worked. This woman has some ego.
Joyce continues to rave enthusiastically. “Over and over again, through the years, I’ve chastised myself. I should have taken my friend’s side. We would have never broken up our friendship. Ours was the true relationship. I missed her so much and I looked for her everywhere, but of course she remarried and I didn’t know her new name.”
“May I ask you a personal question?”
Joyce preens. “Ask away.”
“Why are you here in a sublet? Don’t you have another place to live?”
Joyce sips at her lemonade for a moment organizing her thoughts. “Let me tell you; it’s been so hectic. Even though I’ve lived in Florida all my life, my darling daughter, Stacy, has been nagging me to come live with her in California. She was so cute about it. Mama, she kept saying, you’re getting old—but she meant that in a nice way. Come live with me, she said, and let me take care of you. She lives in that very fancy Marin County. I’m sure you’ve heard of Sausalito? Everyone has.”
“Yes,” I say, breaking in. Trying to slow down the barrage of words. “I hear it’s a lovely place. Never been there.”
/> Joyce rants on as if I never stopped her. “My Stacy married a doctor, too. But he’s a foot specialist, so maybe they aren’t such egomaniacs. We’ll have so much fun together and I can see my adorable grandchildren every day. How can I refuse? So she says to me, sell your house and while I’m waiting to sell, she’s going to add a cottage in her huge backyard. I guess they used to call them mother-in-law apartments. But I’m the mother.”
I break in again. “That sounds lovely.”
“Yes, very. Anyway, here’s the funny part. Surprise! I sell my home right away and she’s having contractor problems. You know how unreliable they are. So instead of moving into their big house and getting in everyone’s way, I said I’d stay in Florida and sublet until she’s ready. And now a miracle. Who should be living here? I find my dearest Arlene at last.”
She says all that hardly taking a breath. Pleased with herself, Joyce opens her arms to indicate that she’s finished her spiel.
Evvie returns just at that moment, thank goodness. The woman is exhausting. “Where’s Arlene?” I ask, not seeing her with Evvie.
“She wasn’t feeling well. I walked her back home.”
I take Evvie by her arm. To Joyce, I say, “Nice talking to you. See you around.” With that, I pull Evvie away.
“What?” she says when we’re out of earshot. “Why the bum’s rush?”
“I’ll fill you in on our way back. What’s that famous line from Casablanca, about all the gin joints?”
For Evvie, the movie maven, that’s an easy one. “ ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’ What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking, of all the condos in all of Florida, Joyce ends up in Lanai Gardens.”
“Hell of a coincidence.”
We see our spouses near the punch bowl waiting for us to rescue them. They both have lidded eyes and slouching shoulders, which indicate they’ve had enough partying. Time to go home.
Evvie shrugs. “I feel an earthquake about to erupt. This doesn’t bode well.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
I sit in the snug chintz chaise in Evvie’s bedroom watching her pack. She is having a hard time of it. The entire bed is filled with most of what was in her closet. Joe is at his doctor’s appointment and I’ve offered to keep her company.
She holds up two skirts. “This is impossible! How can I decide what to take? I don’t know how long I’ll be visiting. I don’t know how people dress up north anymore. I don’t even have any winter clothes. This is madness.”
“Westport, Connecticut, doesn’t have any stores?” I smile at her. “Your daughter wouldn’t lend you a sweater?”
She shakes her head the way a dog tosses off water. “I’m having a meltdown, aren’t I?”
“Something like that.”
“It has nothing to do with my clothes. Right?”
“Correct.”
She plops down on the edge of her bed, shoving a small mountain of outfits out of her way. “I’m behaving like an idiot. Who cares what I wear anyway.”
I shrug, pretending nonchalance. I’m just as distressed as she is, but we don’t need both of us to go to pieces.
“And how will it be staying with Martha, Elliot, and the kids in that small house? Naturally my daughter insisted we stay with them and we have to, because we can’t afford a motel for a few weeks or more. Everyone will be smiling too much and pretending we’re here just for a short family visit. Joe’s condition is on everyone’s mind.
“I love my grandchildren, but twenty-four hours a day for how long, I’ll go crazy.”
Evvie stops herself and starts to smile. “You’re just letting me blab on and on, Madamé Psychologist, on purpose.”
“You got it.” I offer her the box of candy I have on my lap and have been dipping into. “Come on, have another of Fannie May’s indecently delicious chocolates. It works better than booze.”
For a few happy moments we bite into the luscious dark confections, letting their sweetness linger on our tongues as we utter small contented sighs. Then take another.
I comment, “If I eat one more piece, I’ll throw up.”
Evvie pushes the now-empty box away. “Too bad we didn’t think of that famous TV line from the Mary Tyler show way back. Remember when she held up the piece of chocolate and said, ‘Why don’t I just apply it directly to my hips?’ ”
“Too late.”
We laugh.
Evvie starts again. “It’s the big elephant in the room, isn’t it? What I’m not talking about. Why I’m going back home. That’s what it’s really about. It’s the thought that I might be coming back alone.”
That does it. We both get up and hug and hold on tightly to each other, trying to keep back tears.
I say softly, “We do what we have to do.”
“How am I going to manage without you?” Evvie says.
I try to reassure her. “We’ll talk on the phone a lot. If you need me, I’ll get on the next plane.”
“I feel like I’m abandoning you. We haven’t been separated in how long?”
I shrug. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s been a whole lot of years.”
Evvie examines my face. “You seem calm about my going.”
“That’s because I’m such a good actress. One blubbering female is enough. Two is a puddle.”
We hear Joe in the hallway. “Honey, I’m home,” he mimics.
“In here,” Evvie calls.
Joe arrives with a big grin on his face. He holds up a white pastry box. “Guess what I brought home for my two favorite chocoholics for after dinner? A gooey, fattening chocolate cake with chocolate icing.”
First, Jack and the chocolate éclairs, now Joe and his cake. What is it about us that makes our men ply us with chocolate? Maybe for Ogden Nash, candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker—for us it’s the opposite.
Evvie and I look at each other and laugh again.
“Look,” says Ida, “they’re heading out now.” The girls join her and stare out the window as Evvie, Joe, and Gladdy walk past Bella’s door.
“I bet they’re picking Jack up and going to the Continental for the Saturday night stuffed cabbage special,” Sophie whines.
Bella looks stricken. “I want to go! All day long I’ve been thinking of hot pastrami with coleslaw and French dressing on rye.”
Ida says, annoyed, “Well, stop. Think about eating whatever leftovers you have in the fridge. We can’t go.”
Sophie asks, “Why not?”
Ida is amazed. “I have to explain to you again that we’re no longer part of Gladdy Gold and Associates? We made our bed and we have to lie in it.”
Bella looks up, startled. “What’s my bed got to do with pastrami?”
Sophie says, “I know all that. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t still friends.”
Ida’s hands go on her hips. “Did you hear the phone ring? They walked right past us. Did they knock on the door? They didn’t invite us to go with them.”
Bella sighs. “Maybe it’s because we weren’t nice to them.”
Ida is annoyed. “Maybe it’s really because they have husbands now and don’t need us anymore.”
Sophie is adamant. “What’s one thing got to do with another?”
Ida moves away from the window. “It just does.”
Bella is horrified. “You mean we’re stuck here forever with no car? They have three! No early birds, no buying food at Publix? No window shopping? No movies?”
Ida answers, “We need to find a different way of getting into the city. Three buses to Gatkes is too much.”
Sophie thinks hard. “What about that new lady who just moved in? She drives that fancy Jaguar. We can make friends with her. What’s her name, Joyce?”
Bella perks up. “I met her. She’s not too friendly, though.”
Ida says, annoyed, “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t have met her. Why do you always make things up?”
Bella sits up, puffs out
her chest. “I’m not making it up and if you don’t believe me, then don’t!” She gets up and heads for the door.
Sophie looks puzzled. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” Bella says agitatedly.
Sophie goes to her and pulls her back. “You are home, silly. You live here.”
Bella plops back down on the couch and reaches for the dish of Snickers bars. “What are we going to do? I miss our friends already.”
“I wonder what Evvie’s doing.” I sigh. I hand Jack the entertainment section. We trade and he gives me the front pages. This is one of our new shared pleasures of being married. Part of making our own traditions in our Florida room with its cheerful white wicker furniture. Sunday morning bulging newspaper. Bagels, cream cheese, lox, and coffee. The Bloody Marys are a plus. A sweet breeze comes through the louvres. Ah. Peace and serenity.
It’s nice being in my apartment. Once Jack’s building was reconstructed after the hurricane, we deliberated where to live. It made sense to stay here. Otherwise we’d have to replace all of his belongings that were lost when the building collapsed. So here we are.
Of course, the first new things he bought were to replace all the tech stuff he lost—the TV, computer, etc. And another wardrobe.
“Evvie’s gone exactly one week from last Sunday and you’ve already phoned her six times. Doesn’t that help?”
I take a sip of my drink. “It’s only been five. No. I miss her. She’s not just my sister, she’s my best friend.”
He leans over from his chair and kisses my nose. “Can’t I be your best friend?”
I kiss him back. “You are already, but she’s my best girlfriend. It’s not the same thing.”
I try to focus on the news, but I’m not able to concentrate. I place the paper back onto the coffee table. “Speaking about how people are doing, I wonder how Arlene’s been managing this whole week. It’s been kind of quiet. Maybe too quiet.”
Jack turns another page. “You might take it as a good sign.”
“You know, discussing friendship makes me think of the situation with Arlene and her nemesis. The reason Arlene’s unhappiness has lasted so long is because of Joyce’s betrayal. It hurt her to the very depths of her being. It has to do with having a profound relationship with a very close woman friend.”
