Time Trials

by Lee, Terry

Chapter 29

  Dinner - 2012

  Way ahead of schedule, Frannie arrived at Ouisie’s Restaurant on San Felipe and secured a table for six.

  “This should be fun.” Frannie ignored the look on the waitress’s face when she asked for the house red wine with ice. She couldn’t help it. That was how she liked her wine. The restaurant located in River Oaks was whose idea? Oh yeah, Suzanne’s.

  Assured she’d probably get some good writing material from the BAGs about the up-scale place, she dug through her purse for her notepad just as the “iced” red wine appeared. She smiled, but the waitress did not make eye contact.

  Having reached an age where she no longer felt the need to pull out her meek, oh-my-gosh-I’m-embarrassed look, she cleared her throat. “You know…Diane Keaton drinks her red wine this way.”

  Nothing.

  “Really. You ought to try it.” This time she got a smile.

  “It’s okay. We may be in River Oaks, but we’re really not pretentious.” The waitress shot Frannie a wink. “You’re fine. I’m just having a bad day.”

  Frannie looked up in time to see Regina blast through the front door. She turned to the waitress. “Bless you heart. I really hate to hear that.” She could tell by Regina’s expression she was in one of those moods.

  “I came straight from work. I’ve had a horrible day.” Regina flung her satchel bag in the curved booth and pointed to the waitress. “Do you have Blooomsbury?”

  “Ye-ah.” The waitress shifted her eyes to Frannie and then back to Regina.

  “Okay, good. Now, here’s what I want.” Regina’s finger still pointed at the waitress. “Tanqueray martini, Bloomsbury, three olives.” The waitress nodded. “Do you want to write this down?” Regina turned to Frannie. “They hardly ever get this right.”

  The waitress raised an eyebrow and gave Regina a glassy stare. “I think I got it.”

  “No wait…make sure the glass is extra chilled, will you?” She turned again to Frannie. “A chilled glass makes all the difference.”

  Frannie eased her index finger up to her cheek and waited till she caught the waitress’s eye, then pointed to Regina discreetly and mouthed the words not fine.

  The waitress smirked as she left the table.

  “Did you see that?” Regina swiped a strand of hair from her face. “How impertinent. We should talk to the manager about her.”

  “Whoa. What bug is up your ass?” Frannie had turned brazen in her older years and kind of liked it. Funny how time did that. “Don’t talk to waiters like that. Have you ever been one?”

  “A waiter? God, no. Why?”

  “Because I have.” Frannie could feel her nostrils flare, which she knew was not a good look, but what the hell? “They’re not second class citizens. They don’t deserve that. They’re hard-working people. You need to apologize when she brings you your Bloomberg martini.”

  “Blooms-bury.”

  “What-ever.” Frannie shook her head in frustration. “I really thought you’d retired your broomstick.”

  Regina’s body language deflated like a punctured balloon. “I know. I just haven’t been myself lately.”

  Frannie laughed. “Actually, that’s good to hear.”

  “I think I’m getting another divorce.” She straightened her shoulders. “Wait, here come the others. Don’t say anything.”

  Regina had discovered online dating, which had resulted in several quick courtships, marriages, and divorces. “It’s just a marriage,” she’d once said. Oh, how Frannie wanted to write about that.

  Suzanne slid into the booth only minutes before Dena and Janie arrived. Allison had just walked in the door.

  “No need to fucking guess who picked this place.” Dena scooted in on Frannie’s side. Janie followed suit.

  “Oh, c’mon, this is one of my favorite places.” Suzanne didn’t hesitate before sitting next to Regina. Over the past twenty years they’d actually become very accepting of one another’s different and often quirky personalities. Allison pushed in after Suzanne, which started a ripple of the BAGs shifting one way or the other.

  The waitress appeared and placed the martini in front of Regina. The glass looked like it had been in dipped in liquid nitrogen.

  “Oh!” Surprise rarely appeared as one of Regina’s facial expressions. “That looks…great.”

  “Wendy!” Suzanne pushed Allison out of the booth. She jumped to her feet and gave the waitress a hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” She turned to the BAGs. “She’s the best server ever.”

  “Hey, Suzanne.” The waitress now seemed to be enjoying her role. “How have you been? And your daughters…how old are they now?”

  Wendy turned when she heard her name being called. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your drink orders.” She left the table, but not before giving Frannie another brief wink.

  Janie caught on quick and leaned forward to address Regina. “You didn’t already piss her off, did you?”

  “Oh, no!” Suzanne turned to Regina. “Not Wendy.”

  Regina rolled her eyes. “Obviously so, according to Frannie.”

  “And you haven’t apologized yet.” Frannie was not about to let Regina off the hook.

  “A little tip, my friend.” Allison slid her elbows on the table. “Don’t ever screw with people who fix your food or drinks.” She shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

  Wendy returned shortly. All eyes spun toward Regina.

  “Oww.” Obviously someone had landed an under-the-table shin kick to Regina. She sat stick-straight. “Ah…Wendy, I’d like to offer my apologies if I seemed a tad short with you.”

  “A tad?” Frannie added. She felt sure Regina would have narrowed her eyes if that was cosmetically possible, which Frannie knew it wasn’t.

  “All right!” Regina drew her tattooed lips into a tight line. “I was rude earlier, and I….”

  “C’mon, you can do it.” Janie seemed to be enjoying this as much as Frannie.

  “I’m sorry.” Regina cleared her throat. “So there.”

  The BAGs gave Regina a round of applause.

  Frannie smiled at Wendy. “Just ignore that last part…that was meant for us.”

  “Okay, then.” Wendy had her order pad ready. “What can I get you women to drink?”

  “Where’s Piper? I miss my White Russian.” Janie looked around the restaurant as if expecting the wild woman to pop out of nowhere.

  “I’m pretty sure you can order your own fucking White Russian, ya big baby.” Dena flashed Janie one of her fabulous smiles.

  Janie pointed at Dena while she addressed Wendy. “You’ll have to excuse her. That’s her native tongue.”

  The Bad-Ass Golden Girls had been pretty good about getting together every other month for a dinner out. Sometimes, if the restaurant had Wi-Fi, they’d FaceTime with Piper just to keep her in the loop. That was, if Piper was available. The woman seemed to be incredibly busy these days, just as the rest of the Golden Girls were finding more time to clear off their calendar.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Allison propped her elbows on the table and directed her gaze toward Dena. “How’s the whole language thing gone down now that you have grandchildren? You teaching them some interesting words?”

  Dena eyed Frannie and Janie, who were smiling.

  “Want me to answer that?” Janie asked.

  “No, I do not.” Dena wetted her dark red lips. “We did have a discussion about it.”

  “The kids did an intervention!” Janie giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

  Dena raised her voice. “No you’re not. You’re enjoying the hell out of this.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” She nudged Frannie, who had sucked in her lips to keep from laughing.

  “Okay.” Allison sliced a piece of bread from the loaf Wendy had left on the table after delivering drinks. “So?”

  “I’ve agreed,” Dena started, “only because they’re my grandchildren and I don’t want th
em to get kicked out of elementary school.” She paused to take a sip of her Chardonnay. “I come up with an alternate word. It’ll be code for what I’m really thinking.”

  “What’s the word?” Allison asked.

  “I haven’t decided.” Dena cut off the end of the warm loaf and smeared on some butter.

  “Need help?” Allison seemed to be enjoying this.

  “Nope.” Dena leaned in. “How about those Astros?”

  The Bad-Ass Golden Girls broke into howls of laughter. “How about those Astros?” had been their go-to line for years when someone requested a change of topic.

  Several rounds of drinks later, the women ordered some food to soak up the alcohol before heading in their separate directions.

  Suzanne finished her last bite of salmon. “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we form a book club?”

  Silence rippled around the table like dominoes being toppled. A long moment passed before the verbal blackout ended.

  “You watched that Jane Austen Book Club movie again, didn’t you?” Janie asked. She turned to Frannie. “It was on the other night.” Janie focused back on Suzanne. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with bringing a bit of culture to our group.” Suzanne dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It sucks.” Dena signaled Wendy for one more Chardonnay. “What the hell do we need a book club for, or culture for that matter? Can’t we just talk about colonoscopies and living wills…you know, that kind of shit?”

  “I have to agree with Dena on this one.” Regina retrieved her mirror from her satchel bag to examine her face. “I really don’t see us doing that sort of thing.”

  “To be fair to Suzanne, let’s take a vote,” Frannie said.

  As predicted, the vote turned out five “against,” one “for,” and everyone knew where Piper’s vote would fall.

  “Well, what then?” Suzanne had been diligent about rotating wine, water, wine, water.

  “I have an idea.” Allison finished off her portion of the shrimp and grits she’d shared with Suzanne. “Let’s give Michelle a baby shower. I think Denise would be onboard with that.”

  Chapter 30

  Denise’s Family - 2012

  Since the weekend at Janie’s bay house back in 1992, the BAGs had pulled together and became a team of Bonus Moms to Denise’s kids, Michelle and Michael. As Denise predicted, her husband, David, did not handle being alone well. He had managed to work with Michael to a certain degree, but Michelle was totally out of his league. He didn’t have a clue how to deal with a rebellious sixteen year old daughter who had lost her mother.

  Allison was the lead Bonus Mom, but the others kept in touch with both kids, setting up a schedule to have time with each of them separately. With Michelle, trips to the mall, pedicures, dinner, that sort of thing, turned out to be an acceptable outing. With Michael, it started with a movie or a trip to Mountasia or Itz, both activity centers with video games, air hockey, bumper cars, go-carts, rock climbing…just the sort of entertainment for a young teenager.

  As the years went by, Michael’s activities leaned more toward GameStop for a new video game or dropping him off for laser tag or a paint ball event with his friends. Michelle’s activities varied little from when she was sixteen. All girls, even the Bad-Ass Golden Girls, went for pedicures, shopping, and eating out. Michael, as expected, didn’t seem to need the one-on-one female time as much as Michelle.

  Michelle’s grades dropped dramatically right after Denise’s death, not unexpectedly, but still needed to be addressed. Allison had found a support group for teens who had suffered a significant loss in their lives. At first Michelle rejected the idea, which was no surprise, but Allison used all her motherly skills and finally persuaded Michelle to give it a try. Luckily, the support group had been a life saver, along with some private counseling.

  David had been eternally grateful to his wife’s friends for their help.

  “I can barely take care of myself,” he had told Allison a couple of months after Denise’s death. “I don’t know how to be there for them. Michelle acts like she hates the world, me especially, and Michael is so clingy. He’s like a little me…we’re lost.”

  Once, right before Michelle graduated from high school, Allison appeared at their front door with a half-gallon of Blue Bell’s Fudge Brownie Nut ice cream. She and Michelle sat at the kitchen table with two spoons and ate straight out of the container.

  “This was Mom’s favorite.” Michelle used her spoon to dig out a piece of brownie.

  “I know…mine too.” Allison smiled and took another bite. “When she was sick, I’d always make sure there was some in the freezer.”

  “I wondered about that, because Mom and I were the only ones who liked this flavor. I don’t even think my dad eats ice cream.” Michelle sneered. “I mean, c’mon, who doesn’t like ice cream? That’s so stupid.”

  Allison took a couple more bites, pondering her next move. She licked her spoon. “You know, when I was growing up I could get my mouth washed out with soap for saying the word stupid.”

  Michelle stopped, spoon midway to her mouth. “Are you serious?”

  “Yep, sure am.”

  “That’s bizarre. Your parents must have been really strict.” Michelle pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator.

  “Nope, not really.” Allison accepted the water and twisted off the cap. “Calling someone stupid just isn’t a really nice thing to say.”

  Michelle dropped her eyes to her water bottle.

  “So…you still mad at him?”

  “At who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “My dad?” She shook her head, disdain painted across her face. “I’m not mad. Why would I be mad at him?”

  Allison placed the spoon on the table and clasped her hands. “Because he lived.”

  A gasp escaped from Michelle. Her eyes went from round to narrow as she studied Allison. “How…how did you know that?”

  She shrugged and offered a slight smile. “Because I’ve been there. I was so close to my dad….” Allison’s gaze wandered around the kitchen. “When he died, I wished it had been my mother.” Her eyes found Michelle’s. “Not an easy thing to admit. Took me years to forgive her for not dying first. Sounds sick, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, when you say it out loud, it does.”

  “You know what I finally realized?” Allison retrieved her spoon for one final bite.

  “Hmm?” Michelle mumbled through her own last mouthful before pushing the container away.

  “My mom was doing the best she could. She was just trying to get through my dad’s dying, just like me.” A half-smile formed on Allison’s face. “That’s when I decided to stop being mad at her.”

  Michelle exhaled a deep sigh. “Wow. I never really looked at it that way. Poor Dad. He’s been such a mess. And I haven’t helped at all.”

  “No, you haven’t.” Allison talked to Michelle just like she did to her own daughters. This teenager definitely needed a mother figure.

  Michelle’s mouth screwed up. “He’s seeing someone, did you know that?”

  “Ah…no, I didn’t.”

  “He doesn’t think I know, but I think it’s someone from that support group he goes to.”

  Allison weighed the situation before she answered. “Well, it’s been two years. Your mom would like that.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do.” Allison reached across and rubbed Michelle’s arm. “She told me he doesn’t do well on his own, and that he’d probably remarry one day. She was okay with that.”

  “Hmm….”

  They continued in silence, both lost in their own scenarios of anger versus forgiveness.

  “She’s in my dreams, you know.” Michelle’s head down, she shot a glance at Allison through the side of her bangs.

  “Oh, yeah?” Allison straightened in her chair. “Wanna tell me about it?”

 
; Michelle shrugged. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

  “Nope, I don’t think so.” This was the most open Michelle had been with her. And Denise had been in some of Allison’s dreams too. “But, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay.”

  Michelle made a “Hmmm” noise in her throat, scratched her neck, and then pushed her hair behind her ears. “I haven’t told anyone this. Not even my group.”

  Knowing she referred to the members of her support group, Allison approached gently. “I…can understand that.” She paused. “Are they good dreams?”

  “Yeah.” She half-smiled. “Kinda reminds me of a Disney movie.

  This was getting good. “Which one?”

  “Don’t laugh.”

  Allison held up her right hand. “O-kay. As long as you don’t say Dumbo.”

  Water spewed from Michelle’s mouth, followed by a chuckle. “You crack me up.”

  “I’ll get some paper towels.” Allison returned with several sheets and handed a few to Michelle. “Okay, so…what movie?”

  “Aladdin.”

  “How so?” Allison wadded up the damp paper towels and tossed them into the tall garbage can for an easy two-point shot.

  “Well…Mom’s always holding this sort of genie lamp, and she has a goofy smile on her face.”

  Leaning in, Allison felt her palms grow damp. “Hmmm. Anything else?”

  “She’s sitting cross-legged on a carpet…you know, like the magic carpet in Aladdin?”

  “Why do you think she’s showing you stuff from that movie?” Allison found this topic fascinating. She and Denise had talked about her trying to make some sort of connection after her death. She certainly didn’t want to spook Michelle, but….

  Michelle folded her arms across her stomach. “You think she’s trying to tell me something.” The words were not formed as a question.

  Allison shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “You believe in that stuff?”

  Tip-toeing through the subject without sending Michelle flying out of the chair and up to her room, Allison once again chose her words carefully. “Yeah, I do. And let me tell you why.” She felt the need to get some sort of believable answer out there as quickly as possible. “You know how much your mom loved you, right?”