The Land of Mango Sunsets

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  No, this was something particular in her eyes, not a light that was fading but as though her eyes were trying to memorize me, freeze-frame the moment, and tuck it away in the pocket of the gown she intended to wear into eternity. She would show my ancestors these pictures of her time spent in my family’s life just like photographs of events of which she was especially proud or those that had given her something sublime that she had stolen away with her passing to share.

  I didn’t know if it was her heart or some blood disease, but something was prowling around, waiting for a chance to snatch my mother away, and I couldn’t stand it. What was I going to do about it? What could I do? Here I was, still in this collapsing wreck of a house after all these stupid years, and for what? My chest felt heavy.

  I put chunks and chunks of potatoes in salted water and turned the heat to high. I chopped celery and onions, mixed mayonnaise with mustard, and hard-boiled a dozen eggs.

  I called Charlie. He and Priscilla would be at my house by seven. We were ordering in a Chinese feast from their favorite restaurant. He said he couldn’t wait to see everyone, and their arrival couldn’t happen fast enough for me either. Seeing them all together for this occasion would lift away the strictures of depressing thoughts about Mother and take them away in the wind. I was determined to appear upbeat, become upbeat, and remain upbeat.

  A few hours later, the potato salad was assembled and safely tucked away in Liz’s refrigerator with two dozen deviled eggs and two perfectly baked hams. The only thing I had to cook tomorrow was the tomato base for my red rice and, of course, I had to pick up the cakes and breads. Tomorrow? It was almost here. I had a thought about Charles. What if he really came alone tomorrow night? What would I wear? And next I asked myself a critical question. Why should I give a rat’s ass about what Charles thought about me anyway? (Yes, I said rat’s ass. I thought I told you that Mellie was given to potty mouth now and then.) Now, Harrison? That was another issue. Ah, well. Did I hear the mournful music of a thousand gypsy violins? Harrison Ford and Petal Puss Mellie would probably go down in chaste history as a monstrous bummer of unrequited love. However! And this is a pretty darn gargantuan however, what if Liz had been right that night on Sullivans Island when she announced that she thought Harrison had feelings for me? Well, time would tell, just as time had pulled the sheep’s clothing from Manny Sinkler’s spineless back.

  Soon my house was filled with my family, and a buffet line of chicken chow mein, Peking duck, egg foo yong, wonton and hot-and-sour soup, a shrimp dish, and a double order of beef with broccoli was lined up all the way down my kitchen counter.

  “I can’t eat with chopsticks,” Mary said, and Penn echoed her.

  “Mellie? You got a couple of rubber bands in this house?” Harrison said.

  “Sure,” I said, and reached in the drawer. “Here.”

  “Come here, you little bandits! Uncle Harrison is going to show you how to use these things.”

  He squatted next to where they sat at the kitchen table, removed the paper wrapper from the chopsticks, rolled it up, and secured it between the two chopsticks with a rubber band, creating bamboo tweezers.

  “Now watch!” He picked up a tiny piece of chicken and fed it to Mary and she giggled with delight.

  “Want me to fix yours, too?” he said to Penn.

  “Uh-huh,” Penn said. “Please?”

  Over the next two hours we ate and refilled our plates. Nan and Mother were huddled with Priscilla, listening to her stories about growing up in Jamaica. Every now and then I could see Mother inject a comment that noted the similarities between Priscilla’s home and how it had been on Sullivans Island. I could have sworn I even heard Nan say that she would love a visit to Sullivans Island and/or Jamaica, but maybe I was hearing things. Liz was regaling Dan with the details of how his wonderful brother, Charlie, had practically saved her life. And Charlie was giving her the old “Ah shucks, ma’am, ’tweren’t nothing!” routine. He should’ve been a snake-oil salesman. On the side I asked Charlie what he thought about Mother. Was she ill? Charlie agreed that she didn’t look so healthy, but without her records he couldn’t say.

  Kevin was everywhere at once, refilling glasses with wine and beer and bringing Harrison and me details and snippets of everyone’s conversations. Mostly we—Harrison and I, that is—sat with my darling grandchildren and encouraged them to try some of the spicier dishes.

  “What a wonderful family you’ve got, Mellie. I’m jealous.”

  “Well, then, maybe we’ll just have to adopt you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE TANGLED TANGO

  We engaged the services of two young women from the catering company for whom Liz occasionally worked. She liked and trusted both of them. I thought I’d take the gamble on her recommendation as a way of confirming my faith in her. But truth be told, I hadn’t had a party in so long, I knew of no one else to call. They arrived at five, went to work with Liz like a team of pros, and set everything up, including moving Harry upstairs. You just couldn’t trust Harry’s mouth.

  Priscilla’s father, Joseph LeBreu, and her uncle, the Reverend David Small, who would conduct the ceremony, rang the bell thirty minutes before the appointed hour and declared themselves delighted to meet me, my family, that they were just a little parched, and could they imbibe something calming before the ladies arrived? Of course they could, I said, and Liz took them over to the bar, where I saw them pour generous measures of their favorite dark rum bought by Charlie especially for them. Their delight and appreciation of Charlie’s thoughtful gesture would be mentioned again and again. Who could blame them for being nervous?

  I put on my favorite little black dress, the heretofore sausage casing that now fit like a dream, fastened my pearl choker around my neck, and decided that if Harrison Ford didn’t figure out how to say that he wanted me in his life someday because of all his baggage, then somebody else would. Granted, I was wearing city hair—meaning a round-brush blow-out—but the occasion called for it. Island Girl would be back when it was appropriate. At the last minute, I decided to wear some deep rose lipstick and see how that went over with my advisory team of personal stylists. Kevin and Liz, that is.

  I was so grateful for the mild weather. The temperature kept bouncing around the sixty-degree range, but my garden was comfortable because it was self-contained and protected from wind. The last two days of relative warmth coaxed the forsythia into opening enough so that we had lots of color. If we could direct the guests outside, I knew that body heat would warm it up, too, at least for the early part of the evening. I turned on the fountain, lit all the hurricanes, and it seemed to me that my home had never been this inviting or glamorous. It was going to be a marvelous night. I could feel it in my bones.

  Priscilla arrived with her aunt and her best childhood friend, Allison, who was to serve as her maid of honor. Priscilla wore a beautiful dress of a creamy silk charmeuse with no jewelry, except for her engagement ring and a watch. I said hello to them and welcomed them as warmly as I could, given the tumult of emotions I was feeling. I mean, you don’t have a wedding in your family every day, do you?

  Priscilla seemed to glide through the rooms saying hello and thank you for one gift or another, and she was just as gracious and lovely as she could be. I was thinking then she probably missed her mother that night more than ever. That naughty little voice in my head, the one that had finally seen the light and converted to a kinder gentler spirit, saw it was a possible opportunity for me to do something more for her. Let her feel some love!

  “Priscilla? Can I steal you away for a moment?”

  “Of course!”

  I took her back to my bedroom, closed the door, went to my jewelry box, and opened it. I took out a pair of drop pearl earrings that I had worn at my own wedding, carefully tended for years, and put them in her hand.

  “I want you to have these,” I said. “Every bride needs pearls and they will be beautiful on you.”

  She burst into tea
rs, threw her arms around me, and then in a moment of uncharacteristic informality, she plopped down on the edge of my bed.

  “Got the jitters?” I said.

  She nodded and said, “Just a little.”

  I handed her a tissue, then another, and sat down beside her.

  “Miss your mother, huh?”

  “Oh, you just don’t know. I’d give anything…”

  “I know you would, sweetheart. That’s why I asked. But you do have me…and your aunt…and my mother, sweet thing that she is. And your old friend came so far to be here…And you know, I believe your mother’s always with you in spirit. Love lasts forever.”

  “I know. Not the same.” She blew her nose.

  I said, “Look. If you weren’t thinking about your mother at a time like this, it wouldn’t be normal. But you don’t want to be the weeping bride, right? Where’s your vanity? Don’t you want your pictures to be flawless?”

  She smiled then.

  “And you know what? You only have one mother and I can’t take her place, but why don’t you try calling me mom. That is, if it doesn’t make you vomit. It might make you feel a teensy bit better? What do you think?”

  I’d finally succeeded in making a joke that someone thought was amusing. Priscilla really smiled. “What do I think? I think I love you…Mom. Thanks. Thank you so much.”

  “First, of many private gab sessions, I hope. And I love you, too. Now go out there with your new pearl earrings on and tell ’em all your mom gave them to you!”

  She stood up, her hands shaking a little as she fastened the earrings, and said, “I’m gonna be fine. Charlie and I are gonna be fine.”

  “I know that.” I smiled my most confident smile. “Now, take a deep breath and let’s go practice getting married.”

  She strode out like a runway model on the way to a ball and I was pleased with myself to no end. My rusty maternal instincts were in the process of resurrection and rejuvenation.

  I could even see myself taking a trip to California. I had a lot of making up to do with Dan and Nan, and I would do it. I hadn’t felt so happy in…I could not remember when!

  I scanned my living room and well, well, well. Who do you think was right in the middle of it, sporting a five o’clock shadow, downing a scotch on the rocks, and talking up a blue streak like he owned the place? Charles Swanson. There was no Judith in sight.

  He turned to see me and his surprise was all over his face.

  “Hello, Charles,” I said, and offered my cheek for him to kiss, which he did after a moment’s hesitation. “So glad you could join us.”

  “Miriam! You look absolutely incredible! I barely…I mean, it’s shocking!”

  “Call me Mellie, Charles. Miriam is in a closet waiting to die.”

  He had absolutely no idea what that meant. Even I thought it sounded a little psycho scary, but I was nervous and it just came out of my mouth. Just like that.

  “I have to apologize for Judith…”

  There was no apologizing for Judith.

  “Charles. Do you think I’d have come if I were Judith? The wedding is one thing, but coming to the home she wrecked is quite another.”

  He harrumphed and I thought that he had some crust to harrumph at me.

  “Well, frankly, she was a little insulted that our children were not asked to be in the wedding party.”

  “You can’t be serious.” His face was deadpan. “Oh, my! You are serious!”

  “It’s just that…” He was staring at the carpet.

  “Hold the phone right there, Charles. First, you tell Charlie that you’re not interested in helping…oh, you know what? We’re not having this conversation tonight, okay? Or ever! She should consider herself lucky to be invited at all. And you, too.”

  “Actually, I agree with you. I do. However, I must say, Mellie, you do look like a million dollars. And I truly appreciate being included even though I didn’t act…well, I didn’t do…”

  “Oh, put a sock in it, Charles. Who cares? Let’s just make tonight and tomorrow wonderful for our son and his new wife.”

  Priscilla’s aunt Diana Small overheard Charles’s remarks and leaned in to me, whispering, “Did you have one of those extreme makeovers or something?”

  “No, he’s my ex-husband and we don’t get together often. Um, ever.”

  “I see!” she said, and chuckled to herself.

  In Harry’s absence I added, “Basically, he’s a horse’s ass.”

  “I understand entirely!” Her eyes met mine and I had a friend forever.

  The rehearsal and the dinner went off without a hitch. Dan had thoughtfully brought his camera and he and Nan took hundreds of pictures.

  “It’s digital,” he said, showing me his camera, which looked like a regular camera to me. “I can e-mail the pictures to you or send them on a CD. Or you can look at them online and just print what you’d like to have.”

  “Oh, Dan, my sweet boy, your mother lives in another century. I just got a cell phone this year! But I guess I’m going to have to give in and buy some kind of a computer gadget gizmo getup, huh?”

  He laughed, realizing I’d probably try to buy a computer at a bakery or something. “Mom? Why don’t I just get one for you, load it up, and have it shipped to you?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, would you do that for me? I’d be more than happy to pay you for it.”

  “Please. It’s what I do for a living. It’s the least I can do for you, Mom. You’ve never asked me for a thing.”

  What? I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and sighed so deeply the curtains probably moved in every room in the house. In his mind, he seemed to believe I had never asked for a thing. He seemed completely unaware that I had expected him to square off against his father and come to my defense when we all found out about Charles and Judith. He didn’t know about the aching, almost crippling disappointment I felt when he had not. He didn’t even know.

  The most ridiculous thing was that I could have been in his life a lot more often if I had not believed that my pain had chased him to California. So much time lost…and for what? My pride.

  The only real argument we had ever had was over his children’s names. I wasn’t going to mention their names or have a negative opinion about the new baby’s name then or ever. No. His two precious children should be the headliners of my bragging and I should know his whole family much better than I did.

  Then, perhaps because my brain was at long last emerging from too many winters of mothballs, I saw that Charlie probably had never understood my feelings either. But because he was more practical than Dan, he had helped me convert the town house. In addition, he had been around and Dan had not. It wasn’t a child’s place to get involved with his parents’ marital problems. It was very wrong for me to have tried to use my sons as tools to make Charles love me when he did not and never would again. Even if my boys had succeeded in making Charles give up Judith, he would have stayed with me only from a sense of duty, and what self-respecting woman wanted that?

  Charles was here tonight, for the first time since our divorce had become final, and what was really happening with him? I only knew that his compliments were of no interest to me. My strength was a pretty self-satisfying thing, or maybe I was just finally over Charles Swanson. It used to be that I was angered by the humiliation, by the loss of position and friends, but what should have really made me angry I had overlooked—that there was nothing wrong with me and that the man who had promised to love and cherish me should have tried harder to honor his vows. It was a question of honor and Charles didn’t have a clue what honor meant.

  Our family and friends milled all around the house and garden, looking up at the Manhattan skyline and sitting on the benches to chat. My grandchildren scampered all through the rooms, but Nan, who had dressed them beautifully, kept them in check. I was so proud of their manners when they would stop to engage in conversation with one of the adults. Best of all, throughout the evening I would look around to see Mother watchin
g Harrison eyeballing Charles staring at me. Mother’s glances at Harrison were full of amusement, but in no way proprietary or jealous, which was something of a relief. Harrison’s looks toward Charles were a combination of curiosity and disgust. Well, disgust is probably too strong a word, but it was plain that Harrison didn’t think much of Charles. He had known a thousand men like Charles in his day. If they all fell off a steep cliff, he probably thought civilization would be well served. And Charles? It was like he was seeing my whole act for the first time.

  Convoluted as this may sound, my house had taken on a new personality, as if it seemed deliriously happy to be the stage for the occasion. Every corner of every room had that knowing “dowager” glow. Best of all, I was surrounded by a number of people who truly loved me and I was obviously very content with my life. Screw you, baby. Charles never saw what he had given up until that night. To be honest, we all know I wasn’t the same girl he left.

  At the first opportunity, I grabbed Kevin by the arm and whispered in his ear. “You fabulous man! I adore you and I just want you to know it.”

  “Charles is absolutely dying,” he whispered back. “Sweet bliss.”

  “He’s a dope. Please tell me what I ever saw in him anyway,” I whispered back.

  “Tell me. Who did the flowers? They’re spectacular!” Priscilla said within earshot of Charles.

  “Oh, you know I did. Wait until you see what I’ve got planned for you tomorrow!”

  Charles suffered a little whiplash.

  “You had to use some fancy New York caterer, I’ll bet?” Diana Small asked, only for my benefit, knowing Charles’s ears were all over the room like an agent from the IRS. “This is the sweetest, juiciest ham I have ever had in my life! And, honey, I can cook some ham now! You hear me? And those deviled eggs? Mmm, mmm!”