Hollyhock Ridge

by Pamela Grandstaff

  Georgia’s dark hair was now shot with gray and white, Dottie’s fingers were knobby with arthritis, and there were many more lines on both of their faces, but since Kay had seen the changes come along gradually, it was hard for her to picture them any differently. Georgia was dressed for the summer in capris, a pink breast cancer fundraiser T-shirt, athletic shoes and white socks, and Dottie wore a chambray jumper over a white T-shirt with sandals.

  You rarely saw one without the other, taking a morning or evening walk, shopping for groceries, attending church, or sitting together on the porch of Dottie’s house on Lilac Avenue. Active members of the Interdenominational Women’s Society and avid gardeners, they also made weekend deliveries for the Sacred Heart Food Bank, even though they were Methodists.

  In the way that close friends and family members have, they often finished each other’s sentences and enjoyed an almost psychic communication method made up of cryptic comments and facial expressions. Kay watched them now, as both noted the presence of Ed and Claire, and an amused expression flitted between them like a badminton birdie being popped back and forth.

  “I have a bone to pick with you, Claire,” Georgia said. “You’ve been back for months; why haven’t you been to see us?”

  “I’ve been busy but that’s no excuse,” Claire said.

  “Working for movie stars and traveling the world,” Dottie said. “You probably have a lot of juicy stories you could tell.”

  Claire didn’t look as if she wanted to revisit her past any time soon.

  “Let’s eat,” Kay said.

  At the table, Kay directed everyone to join hands and bow their heads.

  “Bless us, Father, and bless this food,” Kay said. “We thank you for good friends old and new, for the food that nourishes our bodies, and the love that nourishes our souls. Amen.”

  “Short and sweet,” Sonny said. “Just like I like it.”

  “My father used to say a funny grace,” Claire said. “Praise the Lord and Holy Ghost; who eats the fastest gets the most.”

  “We sing our grace,” Georgia said, and then she and Dottie treated everyone to a harmonized rendition of it.

  “Oh, the Lord is good to me,

  And so I thank the Lord,

  For giving me the things I need,

  The sun, the rain, and the apple seed.

  The Lord is good to me.

  Hallelujah, Amen.”

  “That was beautiful,” Kay said.

  “This looks delicious,” Sonny said, as he passed the big platter of fried chicken.

  “All diets are off,” Georgia said. “I hereby declare all assembled to be in a state of grace where no calories will adhere to our hips.”

  “Here, here,” Dottie said. “So mote it be.”

  “Was your father a Freemason?” Laurie asked Dottie.

  “He was,” Dottie said. “Here in Rose Hill.”

  “Mine, too,” Laurie said. “I believe the lodge in Familysburg was in amity with Rose Hill; so they probably knew each other.”

  “What are you talking about?” Claire asked.

  “It’s a secret,” Laurie said. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

  Claire rolled her eyes and turned to talk to Georgia while Dottie and Laurie discussed people they had in common.

  “What are you doing, nowadays?” Georgia asked her.

  “Looking for a job,” Claire said. “I applied for an associate professor position in the theater arts department at Eldridge, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” Georgia said. “They tend to hire alumni for professorial positions and keep the townies in lowly staff positions.”

  “I’m well qualified for the job,” Claire said. “I went to a professional theater arts school and have hair and makeup experience in theater and film.”

  “But who are your parents and where did you get that degree?” Georgia asked. “That’s all they care about over there.”

  “I’ve been hired,” Ed said. “My father wasn’t rich and I grew up below Rose Hill Avenue.”

  “But you graduated from The Annenberg School of Communication at the University of Pennsylvania,” Georgia said. “That makes a huge difference.”

  “And you’re a man,” Dottie said. “Don’t look at me like that; I didn’t invent sexual discrimination, I just testify to its pernicious infestation, like knotweed. And look what they’re getting in the bargain: the Sentinel and your cheap labor.”

  “I think Claire will get the job,” Ed said.

  “From your mouth to the college president’s ear,” Georgia said, but she didn’t look optimistic.

  “What are you working on?” Kay asked Georgia. “You’re always busy researching something or other.”

  “Addiction,” Georgia said.

  “A timely subject,” Ed said. “There’s an epidemic of opiate addiction in Pine County right now. There were more fatal overdoses from heroin this year than altogether in the last ten.”

  “It’s cheaper than OxyContin and easier to get,” Laurie said.

  “There’s been a surge in the number of break-ins and robberies as well,” Ed said.

  “And more meth labs and crack houses,” Laurie said.

  “What do you do with your research?” Claire asked.

  “I learn from it,” Georgia said, “and then I bore other people with it.”

  “It was neurological medical research last year,” Dottie said. “I know more about Oliver Sacks than his own mother.”

  “I’d be interested to hear what you’ve learned,” Ed said. “I, myself, am completely addicted to the Internet. It’s scary to me how fast news is disseminated, especially when it’s inaccurate and inflammatory.”

  “There are several schools of thought,” Georgia said. “You won’t be surprised to learn they each relate to the physical, mental, and spiritual state of a person.”

  “I thought it was established that addiction is an illness,” Kay said.

  “But is it a mental or a physical illness?” Georgia asked.

  “Could it be both?” Kay asked.

  “Possibly,” Georgia said.

  “Tell them about the discarnates,” Dottie said. “It’s amazing to me what people come up with.”

  “Later,” Georgia said. “Some researchers believe addiction begins as a reaction to a mental state, but quickly becomes physical through an adaptation of brain chemistry. Conversely, there’s also research indicating that individuals can be born with addiction-prone brain chemistry, and the mental processes then adapt to that.”

  “Which came first, the junkie chicken or its egg?” Ed asked.

  “Is light a wave or a particle?” Laurie asked. “I believe the answer to that question turned out to be ‘whatever gets the job done.’ ”

  “Exactly,” Georgia said. “Put simply, addiction is the insatiable craving for something that temporarily fulfills a need, whether that’s for pleasure, escape, or relief from physical, mental, or psychic pain. When under the influence of the addictive substance or behavior, the addict finds relief from feeling, perceiving, or remembering the addiction stimulus. Ultimately, however, the addictive experience does not nourish the mind, body, or soul in any meaningful, lasting way.”

  “Can anything?” Laurie asked.

  “Good question,” Georgia said, and then nodded at him with a compassionate look on her face.

  “What about spiritual nourishment?” Kay asked.

  “That’s another addictive substance, if you ask me,” Laurie asked. “The story is we’re watched over by some omnificent being, but where’s this cosmic Santa Claus when we need him? Plenty of horrible things happen to innocent people, and plenty of evil hoodlums live long, wealthy lives. Hard to believe it can be real.”

  “Is anything real?” Georgia said. “How would we even know?”

  “That’s too existential for me,” Kay said.

  “It’s a question of faith,” Sonny said. “It se
ems to me you gotta believe in something or what’s the point?”

  “How do you keep believing in God’s infinite love when bad things happen?” Dottie asked. “That’s when faith is tested.”

  “We’re supposed to accept that there are some things we just can’t understand,” Sonny said. “Only God knows the reason.”

  “Further along we’ll know all about it,” Georgia sang, and then Dottie joined in,

  “Further along we’ll understand why.

  Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine;

  We’ll understand it, oh by and by.”

  “You two could take your show on the road,” Sonny said. “You’re good.”

  “So basically people get addicted because something hurts, or is missing inside,” Ed said.

  “Or outside,” Laurie said.

  “Or just perceived to be missing,” Dottie said.

  “Anything that causes pain,” Georgia said. “Physical, mental, or existential.”

  “If you think you’ve got a reason to be depressed, you will be, whether it’s true or not,” Ed said.

  “It can be anything,” Georgia said. “Or it can be everything; a tipping point is reached, and pain, sadness, anger, guilt, or shame overwhelm the mind.”

  “Isn’t guilt the same thing as shame?” Claire asked.

  “Guilt is about things you’ve done or failed to do,” Georgia said. “Shame is about who you are.”

  “Pain, sadness, anger, guilt, and shame,” Laurie said. “The Royal Flush of addiction.”

  “Some folks’ll do anything to escape their feelings,” Dottie said.

  “Even if it’s only a temporary distraction,” Claire said. “Like shopping.”

  “Or web surfing,” Ed said as he raised his hand.

  “Or television,” Sonny said, raising his.

  “Or eating,” Kay said, raising her fork.

  “Or gossip,” Dottie said, and pointed to herself.

  “Or research,” Georgia said.

  “Or adrenaline rushes,” Laurie said. “I mean, I’ve heard that can happen.”

  “So how can any of it be treated?” Ed said. “It seems like drug addiction is almost impossible to beat.”

  “It’s tough,” Georgia said. “Especially when complicated by socio-economic conditions that are less than favorable.”

  “The what are what?” Claire asked.

  “When you’re poor, sweetie,” Kay said. “Everything’s harder when you’re poor.”

  “This is a depressing subject,” Dottie said. “Tell them about the discarnates and then let’s talk about something else.”

  “Discarnates,” Claire said.

  “There is an esoteric line of thought, that I do not agree with, by the way,” Georgia said. “But it is interesting. Some folks believe that the world is full of discarnate entities …”

  “Ghosts,” Dottie said.

  “Spirits,” Georgia said. “These entities are supposedly all around us, some mischievous, some helpful, some benign …”

  “Because they don’t know they’re dead,” Dottie said.

  “Or they don’t want to move on, to, well, wherever,” Georgia said. “The belief is that if a living person is weak or incapacitated in some way, one of these spirits can attach itself to that person and influence their behavior so that the entity can experience something it enjoyed while incarnate.”

  “Hungry ghosts,” Laurie said. “That’s a Buddhist concept, isn’t it?”

  “Very good, Laurie,” Georgia said. “You are correct.”

  “Sounds like demonic possession,” Sonny said.

  “But the word ‘demonic’ connotes evil,” Georgia said. “We’re just talking about random lost spirits who used to be human and miss having sex or getting drunk.”

  “I think that’s just a way to avoid taking responsibility,” Ed said. “Anyone can say the devil made me do it, or discarnates made me do it, or my disease made me do it. It’s just denying that the addiction is your responsibility, that you have some accountability.”

  “Ultimately, addiction is not a moral issue,” Georgia said, and was rewarded with a chorus of disagreement. “Now, hear me out. The fallout from addiction often has negative consequences, but the physical, mental, or spiritual need to experience something in order to relieve suffering is just a human imperative.”

  “In other words, we are all addicted to something,” Dottie said. “So we should all have compassion.”

  “Love can be an addiction,” Claire said

  She seemed surprised to find she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and blushed.

  “It can indeed,” Georgia said, and patted Claire’s hand.

  “My mother told me this years ago,” Dottie said.

  “Oh no, here we go,” Georgia said.

  “Shush,” Dottie said. “Love is caring plus competence.”

  “You can’t stop her once she gets started,” Georgia said.

  “Leave me alone,” Dottie said. “You’ve been talking since we sat down.”

  “Go on,” Claire said. “I want to hear this.”

  “Any two blockheads can have romantic or sexual attraction,” Dottie said. “The real deal is caring for someone over the long haul, after the sexy stuff is, not gone, exactly, but let’s just say it’s not as strong as it used to be. That’s when putting someone else’s needs ahead of your own is more important than a dozen roses.”

  “That comes with maturity,” Kay said.

  “Or when you have children,” Sonny said.

  “That’s the caring part,” Dottie said. “Competence is having the wisdom to care in a healthy way. That means treating your loved ones with respect, and requiring you be treated with respect. It means you accept human flaws but don’t enable destructive behavior. It means you don’t spoil your kids; you teach them how to care with competence. It also means not giving in to the demands of your loved one to the point where you’re sacrificing your own well-being.”

  “I wish they’d teach that in school,” Georgia said. “It’s more important than arithmetic, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “What about the husbands and wives of self-destructive people?” Sonny asked. “How can they be caring and competent and stay married?”

  “Sometimes you can’t,” Dottie said. “You shouldn’t stay in a marriage to the point it causes harm to yourself or your children. Sometimes the most competent, caring thing you can do is remove yourself from a situation that is no longer healthy, that you can tell is not going to get any better.”

  “Tell that to the Pope,” Sonny said.

  “My discarnate wants more mashed potatoes,” Laurie said. “Will you pass them, please?”

  “New topic!” Georgia said. “Kay, what’s going on with your campaign?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Dinner was a success as far as her guests’ appreciation of the food went, and Dottie and Georgia did their part to entertain everyone. Now Dottie was telling stories about her grandkids.

  “So then little Jessie says, ‘That was too much tater and not enough tot, Mamaw,’ ” Dottie said. “Can you believe that little punkin’? He’s only five.”

  After Georgia told a story about an elderly couple she knew who were taking ballroom dancing lessons, Laurie said to Claire, “You’re quite an accomplished dancer, yourself, aren’t you, Claire?”

  Claire blushed, and then said, “I don’t know why you would think that,” before abruptly changing the subject.

  Laurie smiled in amusement and Kay noted that Ed didn’t seem to notice the exchange.

  After they discussed the phenomena of having songs stuck in their heads, Laurie brought up the subject of favorite songs, said his was “Claire de Lune” by Debussy, and asked each person at the table to name their favorite. When he got to Claire, she said, “I don’t have a favorite.”

  Laurie turned to Ed.

  “Surely you know Claire’s favorite song, Ed.”

  “Nope,” Ed said. “I’m sorry to say
I don’t.”

  “If I were you, I’d make it a point to find out what it is, and then dance with her while it plays,” Laurie said. “That’s what I’d do, anyway, if she were my sweetheart.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Claire said. “What a silly thing to say. Kay, let’s eat that delicious looking pie you’ve got in the kitchen. You sit still. I’ll go get it.”

  “I’ll help you,” Laurie said, and jumped up to follow her into the kitchen.

  There was no doubt in Kay’s mind that there was something going on between Laurie and Claire. She could also plainly see that poor Ed hadn’t a clue.

  Kay made a point of asking Claire to stay behind when everyone began to make noises about leaving. After everyone else had gone, Claire carried dishes to the kitchen while Kay filled the sink with hot sudsy water and put on some rubber gloves.

  “Everything was so good,” Claire said. “I feel like I’ve gained five pounds.”

  “You could use it,” Kay said. “You’re looking a little peaked. Are you still having bouts of nausea and dizziness?”

  “Yes, but I’m not pregnant,” Claire said. “I’ve peed on about ten dozen of those test sticks and they all say the same thing: I’m getting old so it must be menopause.”

  “Forty is not old.”

  “I’m still thirty-nine for another two weeks, thank you very much.”

  “Did you go to the doctor?”

  “I saw Doc Machalvie, who thinks it’s probably just stress, but he wants me to go to a specialist in Morgantown,” Claire said. “Before you say anything, I promise that as soon as my mother gets back I will.”

  “Have you heard from them?”

  “They’re having a blast, apparently,” Claire said. “Hannah said even Aunt Bonnie was having a good time, and cooking every meal. She doesn’t see why they should waste good money going out to eat when there are grocery stores full of anything you could possibly want.”

  “How’re the men holding up?”

  “Scott and Sean are taking Hannah’s dad and Maggie’s dad fishing on the pier every day, so they’re as happy as clams. My mom, Aunt Bonnie, Maggie, and Hannah are all taking turns keeping an eye on little Sammy, and you know that’s a full-time job. He likes to fling himself in the deep end of the pool and run right into the ocean. That child has no fear of water except at bath time. Scott’s going to teach him to swim before they come home.”