by Nancy Thayer
“Are you okay?” Alice asked when Marilyn entered the living room.
“Fine. Just embarrassed. And terribly grateful—I think I could have died!”
“I wonder if that’s ever happened,” Polly mused. “If any woman’s ever suffocated beneath her lover.”
Marilyn shuddered.
Alice grinned. “You’ll see the humor of it in the morning. Will you be able to sleep?”
Marilyn nodded. “I’m sure I will. I’m exhausted. I’ll have a bit of brandy and stretch out on the sofa.” She hugged Polly and Alice. “How can I thank you? This was beyond the call of duty.”
“Honey,” Alice said, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
In the morning, Marilyn and Ruth had risen, dressed, and were sitting at the table, eating breakfast, when they heard the bedroom door open. A few minutes later, the toilet flushed. After a while, Faraday looked around the corner.
“Marilyn?” He was white and grim. “Could I speak with you?”
“Sure. Want some coffee?”
“No!” He disappeared. She heard the bedroom door slam.
She hurried into her bedroom. Faraday was dressed, but haphazardly, as if he’d just heard a fire alarm.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“What happened last night?” He towered over her, swaying slightly.
She felt both accusatory and apologetic. “To be blunt, you passed out. You know you shouldn’t mix alcohol and drugs.”
“When did I pass out?”
“Um, when we were just beginning to make love.” She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Faraday. These things happen. Mother doesn’t know about it. I mean, she knows you slept over, but the rest she doesn’t know. It was a little frightening, really. I couldn’t breathe. I had to phone Alice and Polly, they came over to help move you off me—”
“You what?” Faraday looked like she’d slugged him in the stomach.
“Well, I couldn’t lift you off me—”
“Your friends saw me naked and comatose?” His pale face flushed crimson. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She was stunned by his anger. “I was thinking, Faraday, that I didn’t want to suffocate.”
“This is unbelievable.” Faraday rubbed his face with both big, hairy hands. “This is a nightmare.”
“Oh, Faraday—”
He shook his head furiously. “I can’t believe you did such a thing. I can’t believe you’d embarrass me like that.”
With a face like thunder, he strode from the room, grabbed his coat up from the back of a chair, and stomped out the door.
Ruth looked up from a crossword puzzle. “Was that Caraway?”
“Faraday, Mother. Yes.”
“He seemed in a bad mood.”
“He was just late for a class,” Marilyn lied. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I think I’m coming down with a cold. I’m going back to bed.”
MOTHER’S DAY
13
SINCE NEW YEAR’S DAY, SENSITIVE ISSUES HAD FLICKERED around the members of the Hot Flash Club like a kind of invisible miniature lightning. Alice was irritated with Shirley for her gullibility with Justin. Shirley was protective of Justin and annoyed with Alice. Polly was trying to be supportive of Carolyn without seeming to be flirting with Aubrey; Marilyn was preoccupied with Ruth; and Faye just seemed depressed.
Still, all five of them showed up for the May board meeting of The Haven, and all five remained in the conference room when the other directors left.
Alice stripped off her suit jacket, hung it over the back of her chair, and cranked open several of the casement windows, letting fresh air sweep into the room.
“That’s better,” Faye said, lifting her long, white hair off her neck.
Shirley opened a cupboard and brought out a plate of brownies.
Polly bent down to her book bag and lifted up a bottle of sparkling water and five paper cups. She poured the water and passed it around. “Shirley, are you okay?”
Shirley took her place at the head of the conference table, kicked off her dress shoes, and lifted her feet up to rest on the polished mahogany. “Thanks for the water. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“All through the meeting, you kept making faces at me and patting your chest, like you had indigestion.”
Shirley laughed. “I was trying to instant message you that your jacket’s buttoned wrong.”
Polly looked down at the handsome tweed suit she’d made just for these board meetings. All the buttons were off by one. “Oh, no! I was in such a hurry—”
Her chagrin at a blunder any one of them could commit made them all feel sympathetic, and closer than they had for weeks.
“Don’t worry about it,” Faye comforted Polly. “If anyone noticed, they probably thought you were wearing some nouveau-chic asymmetrical style.”
“Yeah, at my bridge group last week, I wore mismatched earrings,” Alice confessed. “When someone pointed it out, I told them it was the newest fad. They believed me.”
Polly unbuttoned her jacket and realigned it properly. “Good grief. When do we admit we’re too old to appear in public?”
“Never!” Shirley hit her fist on the table for emphasis. “I was just reading about Stradivarius? The guy who made all the violins? He didn’t start building them until after he was fifty, and he worked into his nineties.”
“But let’s be realistic.” As she spoke, Faye removed her indigo silk jacket and fanned her face with the minutes of the board meeting. “We are older. We’ve got to make adjustments. We’ve got to accept changes.”
“True,” Alice agreed. “I nearly fall off the sofa laughing when I see a TV ad depicting a silver-haired couple waltzing on a cruise ship or backpacking up an Alpine path. Gideon and I are in good health and reasonably fit, but I can only be twirled on the dance floor if I take plenty of aspirin and remember to wear a panty liner.”
Faye nodded. “You’re right. When Aubrey tries to climb the stairs, never mind a mountain, his knees give out on him. Not to mention, I mean, excuse my bluntness, but any vigorous activity makes him fart like a popped balloon.”
Polly laughed. “Tell me about it! The signature scent of senior romance definitely does not come from a perfume bottle.”
“Still, we’ve got to keep dancing,” Shirley reminded them.
“You are so ‘The Little Engine That Could,’ ” Alice muttered.
“So?” Shirley shot back. “You want me to be ‘The Little Engine That Can’t’?”
Alice bit off her words. “Maybe ‘The Little Engine with Headlights and Brakes.’ ”
Quickly, Marilyn derailed them. “So, Faye, how are things working out with Aubrey’s daughter?”
Faye looked strained. “Well, I haven’t felt like going out a lot. This winter’s been so brutal, and my ankle hurts when it’s bitterly cold.”
“Welcome to my arthritic world,” Alice murmured sympathetically.
Faye broke a chunk off a brownie, popped it into her mouth, and chewed while she talked. “Plus, I was down and out with the flu for almost three weeks. Also, Carolyn arranged a lot of ‘family vacations.’ They went skiing in March and to Costa Rica for two weeks in April.”
Polly spoke up. “Carolyn invited me on both trips, but I refused. I said that I wanted to spend as much time with my boyfriend Hugh as I can.”
Faye touched Polly’s hand. “I’m not blaming you, Polly.”
Shirley inquired softly, “Have you and Aubrey made love yet?”
“Not yet. But it’s all right.” Faye’s expression denied her words. “At our age, sex isn’t as crucial or passionate as it was when we were younger.”
“That’s like saying it may not be Godiva, but it’s still chocolate,” Alice pointed out.
Shirley turned to Marilyn. “Have you heard from Faraday?”
Marilyn sighed. “Not since our Valentine’s Day catastrophe. I’ve phoned him and e-mailed him, but he refuses to answer. I
’ve tried catching him in his office at the university, but he gives me the cold shoulder every time.”
Faye grimaced. “He must have been humiliated, passing out on you like that.”
“I think what’s worse for him is knowing that my friends saw him naked and comatose.”
“I can sympathize with that,” Alice said.
“I can, too,” Polly said, “but at our age, we’ve got to have a sense of humor if we’re going to enjoy sex.”
“A sense of humor and total darkness,” joked Alice.
“Even if it’s entirely dark,” Polly confided, “men can feel how different we are. I swear, my pubic hair is thinning out, but I’m growing whiskers on my chin!”
Alice chuckled. “Yeah, and my breasts used to feel like nice, hard pears. Now they hang down like a couple of eggplants.”
“Come on, men don’t love women only if they’re young and beautiful,” Shirley insisted. “I mean, look at Prince Charles. One of the most beautiful women in the world was his wife, and she was much younger. Still, he stayed in love with Camilla.”
Alice snorted. “Camilla, that dried-up old twig.”
Shirley pounced. “My point exactly.”
“Is Camilla older than he is?” Polly asked.
“Yes,” Shirley stated defiantly. “At least a year or two.”
Faye noticed Alice looking annoyed, as she always did when the subject of older women–younger men/Shirley– Justin came up. So far Alice had remained on the board, but she didn’t participate as much as she once had, and she seldom spoke directly to Shirley. Faye didn’t feel very close to Shirley these days, either; she was always afraid Shirley would bring up the subject of health and weight.
Polly deftly switched conversational gears. “All right, everyone, let’s compare notes on Mother’s Day. Who got taken out to dinner?” When no one answered, she said, “Okay, who got flowers?”
Marilyn offered, “I brought Ruth flowers. And a pretty spring sweater.”
“But what did you get?” Polly persisted.
Marilyn shrugged. “Teddy phoned to wish me a happy Mother’s Day and to tell me he bought Lila a diamond tennis bracelet. That’s perfectly fine with me. I’ve never cared much about Mother’s Day.”
“Nor I,” Alice chimed in. “It was fun when the boys were little, but now that they’re grown, I seldom think of it. Although Steven did send me a card.”
“Laura sent me a card, too,” Faye said. “With new pictures of Megan.”
Polly pretended to pout. “That’s more than I got. David didn’t even send me a card.”
“That’s because Amy didn’t remind him to send you something,” Faye said. As the others raised their voices in objection, she continued, “I know it’s not right, but it’s true. Women are the ones who remember to buy birthday presents, Mother’s Day cards, all that sentimental stuff. I did it for Jack. I’d buy the card and put the pen in his hand and stand over him to make him sign it, as if he were six years old. Then I’d make him address the envelope. Then I’d mail it.”
“You’re right.” Polly nodded, thoughtfully picking a chocolate crumb off her napkin. “Now that you mention it, I did the same sort of thing for Tucker. I’d order flowers delivered to Claudia, with a card signed, ‘Love, Tucker.’ ”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Shirley said. “You remembered, you went to the trouble of ordering flowers, and he gets the gratitude.”
Polly snorted. “I could have sent Claudia a tree and she wouldn’t have acknowledged it. But never mind.” Polly’s smile was slightly mischievous. “I was always glad to work behind the scenes. Because Claudia would phone Tucker and thank him for the flowers, and then Tucker would thank me for remembering for him.” She waggled her eyebrows. “With something much nicer than flowers.”
“Speaking of flowers . . .” Faye leaned forward. “I had the best idea the other day. I was thinking about Princess Di’s death, and all those flowers people put at the gates in her honor. Remember? There were thousands of beautiful bouquets.”
“It was so sad,” Polly reflected somberly.
“Well,” Faye continued, “what happened to those flowers? Did they all just get swept up and tossed out? Wouldn’t it have been great if they’d gathered up all those flowers, dried them, put them in pretty little cloth bags, and sold them as Princess Di Memorial Potpourri?”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Shirley said. “I would have bought some!”
“Me, too,” Polly said. “Gee, I wish we could do something like that. Has anyone wonderful died lately?”
Alice thought for a moment. “Rodney Dangerfield, but who would buy Rodney Dangerfield potpourri?”
Faye laughed. “Few people would have the same cachet as Princess Di.”
“Or the same sachet,” Marilyn quipped.
“True,” Shirley said musingly. “The potpourri would be a kind of constant memory, and how many people do we want to think of daily?”
“That reminds me,” Polly said. “I’m still trying to decide what to do with the inheritance my evil old mother-in-law left me. Boxes of beautiful lace. I’d like to use it, even though it was Claudia’s.”
Shirley asked, “Can you separate the material from your memories?”
“I honestly don’t know. Maybe that’s why I can’t think of anything . . . because the memory of her snotty old face gets in the way.”
Alice turned to Marilyn. “Speaking of old people, how’s your mom?”
“She’s adorable.” Marilyn played with her brownie, crumbling it into little pieces. “And I’m glad for her company, now that Faraday’s no longer in my life.”
“I sense a however in there,” Alice said.
Marilyn looked around at her wonderful friends. She loved them so much. Yet she knew they all thought she was odd, and probably, she was. Certainly she couldn’t speak to them about the matter closest to her heart.
Marilyn believed in the Loch Ness Monster. She was sure that Nessie was a descendant of the plesiosaurs, enormous, flippered marine reptiles that lived in the Mesozoic Era. Almost daily, science discovered new creatures in unexplored jungles and on the sea floor. It was possible, it really was, that the long, narrow, freshwater lake, averaging four hundred fifty feet in depth and more than a thousand feet in some places, could hide a plesiosauroid.
To know Nessie existed had been Marilyn’s lifelong dream. Too weird for her to share even with her Hot Flash friends, it was her own private mystery, as much a part of her as her scientific work or her maternal love or her sexual desires or her affection for her friends. It was the bedrock of her soul.
The more Marilyn learned about scientific matters, the more science unearthed facts about the universe, the more firmly she believed in God. She could not believe life was random. From the vastness of the starry cosmos to the nearly unfathomable worlds living inside one drop of water, an awesome order prevailed, and everywhere hints were hidden that sent man off on adventures his greatest imagination could not forsee. The universe was too beautiful, and too intricate, for man ever to come to the end of his searching.
The older she got, the more urgently she yearned to begin her own private quest.
“Earth to Marilyn,” Alice prompted.
Marilyn’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve taken a sabbatical. My courses end next month, then I’ll be off for a year. I was hoping to go to Scotland for a couple of weeks, just by myself. But I don’t think I can leave my mother alone. And I don’t want to ship her back to my sister’s just for two weeks.”
“Hire someone to live in,” Alice advised. “A practical nurse or someone like that.”
Marilyn made a face. “I don’t know. I’d feel awful, hiring a stranger to stay with her. She wouldn’t say anything, but I know it would hurt Mother’s feelings.” She shrugged. “It’s all right. I can go another year.”
“Don’t be silly!” Faye said. “Ruth can stay with me.” Marilyn looked at Faye. “Oh, I can’t ask you—” “But I’d love to ha
ve her,” Faye insisted. “What do I have a guest room for, anyway? It’s not like my own daughter is planning any visits. It would be good for me, Marilyn, really, it would.”
“I’d help,” Polly offered. “I mean, if Faye needs to go out of town, or has a date with Aubrey, or whatever, I can always take Ruth out to dinner or come sit with her. I think Ruth’s a hoot.”
Marilyn was dumbfounded. Had she had a minor brain warp and told them how important this trip was to her? She was so shocked she was speechless.
“I’ll bring her out here for some yoga,” Shirley added. “We’ll keep her busy.”
“I’ve got season tickets to the symphony,” Alice chimed in. “Gideon doesn’t like to go to them all. I’ll take her in his place.”
Tears welled in Marilyn’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’d all really do this for me.”
“Please,” Alice chided. “You’d do the same for any of us.”
Shirley took Marilyn’s hand. “Isn’t this your dream?”
Marilyn nodded. “It’s the trip I’ve dreamed of for years.” She frowned. “I should warn you. Ruth can be irritating. She says the same thing over and over again, and it takes her forever to move two feet. And she’s practically deaf, and you have to repeat stuff a thousand times. And she—”
“Marilyn.” Faye’s voice was decisive. “We’re doing it. We’re taking care of Ruth. So make your plans. Two weeks, even more—we’ll all do just fine.”
Marilyn looked radiant. “You are all so wonderful! Oh, wow! I’m so excited!” She looked serious again. “But we’re going to have to break this to Ruth gently. You should all come over to the apartment and visit, so she gets used to you.”
“We can do that,” Faye said. “It’s going to be fun.”
FOURTH OF JULY
14
THE SUN SHONE DOWN ON A PERFECT DAY: SUNNY, clear, and hot. Divine picnic weather.
Shirley bustled about on the large slate patio off The Haven’s kitchen door, carefully setting, right in the center of each picnic table, a bowl of red, white, and purple-blue petunias with a cute little American flag in the middle. She felt festive in red cropped pants, a blue-and-white striped jersey, and red espadrilles. And her earrings were so clever—they looked like firecrackers!
