"Excuse me," I heard, and turned to my right.
An elderly lady with tightly styled blue-gray hair wanted me to step back so she could have more room for her and her dog to pass. To me the dog resembled a miniature hippopotamus. It had loose skin in thick wrinkled folds, especially on its forehead. The dog looked just as arrogant and as impatient as its owner. All she had to do was tighten up a bit on the leash, and she would have plenty of room to go by.
"There's plenty of room for you to go by." I told her.
She pulled her head back and threw me a hard look. Her witchlike face screwed into a tiny wrinkled prune. I heard her "Humph" as she struggled to get the ugly dog closer. Finally she was able to walk around me. "Tourists," I heard her mutter disdainfully. The dog glanced back as if it understood and had the same disgust.
"You can get a ticket for that," I heard, and turned to see a handsome young man sitting
comfortably in the driver's seat of a Mercedes convertible similar to the one Roger's mother owned. The man had a unique shade of gold-brown hair cut perfectly with a wave in the front. In the afternoon sunlight his cerulean eyes actually gleamed. He wore a light blue sports jacket with an open shirt collar. I could see his gold necklace,
"I didn't do anything illegal." I told him.
You did here. You blocked the passage of a Chinese shar-pei. Grounds for arrest and
imprisonment.," he added with a small smile on his perfectly shaped lips.
"I thought it was a baby hippo," I said, and he laughed.
He turned away quickly as a woman came out of the beauty salon.
"What's so funny. Kirby?" she asked.
"Nothing. Muffy," he said. I thought she looked old enough to be his mother, but he looked at her flirtatiously. You look ravishing."
"Think so?" she said, turning to catch her reflection in the window, "I let him darken my color and snip just a little more than usual."
"It's perfect," he said, and glanced at me. Something in his face told me he didn't mean a word of it. It was as if he and I shared a secret. He smiled and got out of the car quickly to open the door for her. As he came back around he looked at me again. "Remember, be careful." he teased.
When he got back into the car he leaned over to kiss the woman on the lips. Then he started the engine and drove off.
I continued down the sidewalk, looking in the windows of all the shops. Most of the clothing and shoes I saw on display had no price tags, but I could just smell how expensive everything was. I saw many different famous designer names. The people, mostly women. I saw emerging from these stores all seemed comfortable in their luxurious outfits, shoes, and jewelry, each one looking as if she was frying to outglitter the next.
I did go into Saks and look at some clothing. After that I wandered around, looking at the ritzy hotels, garden restaurants, and designer shops, circling until I found my way back to the salon. Mommy wasn't finished yet, so I sat and thumbed through some magazines. Finally I heard her laugh and looked up. My breath caught, and for a moment I couldn't speak. She had permitted Rene to cut her hair shorter than I had ever seen it. I almost didn't recognize her.
Mommy's hair was always something Daddy loved. Because of that. I resisted cutting my own. He even enjoyed it when she tied it in a French knot or, for fun, wove two pigtails. He often told her that her hair was like woven silk. Many times I saw him run his fingers through it with such pleasure on his face.
"How do you like it?" she asked me, turning so I could see it from every angle. It was clipped to just above the nape of her neck, and the sides were drawn up sharply, curling. The style resembled some of the ones I had seen on other women in the shops and on the sidewalks of Worth Avenue.
I shook my head. "It's awful," I said.
Everyone around her stopped chaffing. Rene raised his eyebrows.
"It's the latest style, honey." she explained. "I'm too old now to wear my hair the way I was wearing it. It's all right for a teenager, but..."
"You told Daddy you would never cut your hair," I reminded her. "I heard you."
"Daddy's gone, honey," she said softly.
"Not to me." I fired back at her, and charged out of the salon. I didn't know where I was going. I just walked quickly up the sidewalk, my arms folded under my breasts, my head down. I nearly walked into two women busily chatting and not watching where they were going. They gasped. and I shifted on my right foot in time to avoid slamming into them.
"My God!" one of them shouted after me. "Can't you watch where you're walking? Young people today," she muttered.
I paused at a fountain and caught my breath to stare at the half-moon-shaped tiled trough with a silver spigot that provided fresh water. A moment later an elderly man brought his poodle to it. and I watched the dog drink. The man smiled at me.
"Nothing too good for my baby." he said.
Expensive dogs were obviously very important to people in Palm Beach. I thought.
When the dog was satisfied, it tugged on the leash, and the man obediently continued his walk,
"What do you think you're doing. Grace?" I heard, and turned to see Mommy in our car. She had driven up and pulled to the curb. "Get in." she ordered.
I did, and she started away.
"I think I've been quite lenient and
understanding when it has come to your moods, your emotional trauma, and your needs. Grace. I also think you are old enough and smart enough to treat me as fairly and as understandingly as I have treated you. What you did back there was very embarrassing for me. You behaved like a petulant child, a spoiled brat," she continued, her voice harder than ever.
"Yes," she went on. "I did wear my hair the way your father liked it. I did everything I could to please him. Many times when you were younger and I had to rip us up out of one home and go to another, I swallowed my own tears and anxiety. I did what I had to do to keep my marriage and to keep your father from having too much worry and burden. We loved each other more than most people who marry love each other, and I don't regret a moment. but I am in a different world now, a different state of existence. and I can't live in the past or in memories. I have our welfare to think about and our futures to consider.
"I'm not going to be the same person I was. That person died with your father. Grace. If I don't let go. I can't go on. and I have no right to wallow in selfpity. That was why I chose to move and to take the job and start in a completely different sort of environment in the first place.
"I need you to be just as grown-up and as realistic as I have to be." She looked at me. "There is just no more time to waste in mourning and feeling sorry for ourselves. I'm not going to permit it. but I can't do it without your full cooperation. Will I have it or won't I? Will you grow with me or not?"
She looked ahead at the bridge we were going to cross again, her eyes narrowing. "There are many bridges to cross in this life, and this just happens to be another, but it's a possible bridge to a better life for us."
Her lips trembled. She brought her hand to her eyes and wiped away tears. "I wish more than you know that this was all a nightmare and we would bath wake up and your daddy would be coming home to us again, but he's not He's not! Damn this world, he's not!" she cried, and pulled over and stopped the vehicle.
I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe. I barely got out the words. "I'm sorry. Mommy."
She reached for me, and we hugged and held each other. We were like that so long a police patrol car came up behind us, and a policeman approached.
"Are you all right, miss?" he asked. "Is there something wrong with your car?"
Mommy pulled back and looked out at him and then at me. "No, the car's fine, and yes," she said, "we're all right. We're always going to be all right."
He tilted back his cap, a smile of confusion written across his young face. "Okay, but you can't stay here."
"I'm sorry. officer. We'll move." She smiled at him through her tears. "But we'll be back."
He smiled and shook his head, and
we drove on, both of us staring ahead, both of us somehow stronger.
11
The Myth of Icarus
.
"I Mess I didn't realize how tired I was and haw
much we did today," Mommy said a short time after we arrived home.. We were going to have a simple dinner, just same scrambled eggs. She was almost too tired to eat that and drifted off every once in a while even while we ate. "I'd better get to sleep," she decided, "I want to be fresh and energetic tomorrow."
Randy finally reached me early in the evening. I could tell he was reluctant to reveal just how gleeful Phoebe and her friends were about the outcome of my altercation with Ashley. but I drew it out of him, his stuttering even more pronounced, especially when he revealed how he had spoken in my defense and made some enemies.
"Which was the one thing I asked you not to do. Randy," I chastised.
"I don... don't care," he said. "You're mo... more
impor... portant to me than they are."
"Well, thank you, but please don't do anything
else. Promise me," I said. "Promise me. or I will avoid
you as much as I will avoid them."
"Okay," he said. "They're ha... having a par...
party at Wally's house to... tonight," he added. "You don't have to say it. I'm sure it's a
celebration. Good riddance to them all."
"Can... can... can I see... see you tomorrow?
Maybe we can go to a movie."
"No. I'm going someplace with my mother. and
I'll be gone most of the day. We'll see each other
during the week," I promised.
"Okay." he said, dripping with disappointment. Afterward I tried to finish the homework Randy
had given me the day before, but my mind kept
wandering. I couldn't help thinking about Daddy,
wishing he was here to give me advice in his
confident manner, filling me with my own selfconfidence and dissolving the ghosts of indecision,
fear, and anxiety. I tried to imagine what he would say
about all of this.
He would certainly tell me to have confidence
in my mother, and he would absolutely insist that I
stop moping about and let Mommy enjoy herself and
enjoy myself as well. He loved that expression.
"snatching victory from the jaws of defeat," especially
when it came to famous naval battles.
Are you your father's daughter, or aren't you? I
asked my image in the mirror.
I answered by putting on the outfit Mommy had
bought me, looking in the mirror, and thinking about
the day we were about to enjoy. I wasn't being honest
with her earlier. I really was looking forward to seeing
that estate, riding in the limousine, going out on a real
yacht. What harm could come of it? I even liked how
I looked in this expensive outfit.
Mommy was up early the next morning,
tinkering about the condo and then working on
herself, her makeup, making sure her hairdo was
perfect. She seemed to be preparing for opening night
in some great theatrical event. She was that nervous. I
noticed how many times she looked at the clock. "Winston is always on time." she said when I
asked why she kept doing that. "I don't want to keep
him waiting."
"How do you know that? You met him only
once, not counting the restaurant, where everyone
comes relatively on time or they'll lose their
reservation."
"I doubt he would ever lose his. Grace. I can
tell what he's like from the way he speaks about
himself." she said quickly. "He hates it when someone
is late for an appointment or someone keeps him
waiting when he's on time. That's why I was so angry at your principal when she kept us waiting. I kept
thinking Winston wouldn't stand for
Winston wouldn't stand for it? How much time
had she spent with Winston Montgomery? And why
base her life on what Winston Montgomery would or
wouldn't do? Was last night their first and only date so
far? I didn't want her to feel I was cross-examining
her. so I dropped the subject and got myself ready. As
she had predicted. Winston's limousine pulled up in
front of our condo just as the clock struck ten. "He's here!" she cried. "How do I look?" She
pirouetted like a ballerina,
"Great.'' I said "Relax, Mommy. We're only
going far a picnic on a boat." I added, and she laughed
so hard I didn't think she would have the strength to
open the door.
"What's so funny?"
"Picnic on a boat. That's good, Picnic on a
boat."
The first chance she had, she told Winston what
I had said.
"Well," he replied, looking at me and nodding
after we had gotten into the limousine. "Grace is right.
That's exactly what it is. You both look fantastic." he
said. "I'm sorry now that I arranged for a picnic on the boat. I should have taken you both to Miami's South Beach for lunch and shown you off: the mother and daughter who look more like two sisters. Perhaps
another time," he added quickly.
I had to admit he looked pretty dapper himself.
He wore a light blue windbreaker, white pants, and
blue boat shoes. In the daylight I saw how tan he was
and how that brought out the blue in his eyes. His
snow white hair highlighted his complexion. He
noticed the way I was studying him and smiled. so I
looked away, but his attention was on me for most of
the trip to his estate.
"What is your favorite subject in school?" he
asked.
"I guess I like English the most, especially
literature. I like to read."
"Well. I'm not the best speller." he kidded. "so I
won't have you looking over my shoulder when I
write anything. but I like to read. too. Lately I've
enjoyed reading the old classics and plays, like Romeo
and Juliet," he said. and I looked immediately at
Mommy, who knew that was my favorite play, I
confessed to fantasizing about myself playing Juliet in
some lavish production. She quickly glanced out the
window. She had primed him for me. I thought. How artificial. What else had she told him about me? My favorite colors, foods, movie stars, and singers? Is he
going to claim he likes them all as well?
"Really." I said dryly. "You recently read
Romeo and Juliet?"' was considering asking him
something detailed just to expose him and Mommy, "Yes. I've even seen the ballet a few times.
Have you ever seen it?"
"No."
"Of course you know West Side Story is based
on Romeo and Juliet?"
I nodded, a little more impressed. Was he
telling the truth? He did read a great deal and also
liked Romeo and Juliet?
"If a production of either the ballet or the
musical comes to Florida, I'll be sure to take you," he
said. "Do you want to be an actress or a model?" "Neither."
"You're certainly pretty enough. What would
you like to be? Any ideas yet?"
"Maybe a teacher," I said. "A college teacher. A
professor."
"I bet you can be anything you want to be." he
said.
"Why?" I challenged. He smiled and looked at Mommy. "You have a
certain je ne sai
s quoi."
"What?"
"A quality not easy to describe but nevertheless
there. Grace. A real sense of yourself, a focus. I can
see it, and my money is on you."
"I'm not a race horse."
"Oh, but you are. Grace. We all are, but don't
worry about that. Competition is healthy. Don't be
afraid of it. You're a winner." he said with a confident
nod and a smile.
Mommy gazed at me. I could see the pleasure
in her eyes. She looked so satisfied with herself. We
weren't just with any man. We were with a very
successful man who, like my daddy, had leadership
qualities and could teach me something.
"I don't feel like a winner." I said almost under
my breath.
"You will.' he assured me. I looked at him. His
eyes were full of kindness, Maybe I was being unfair.
Maybe he really did like me. And just like that my
body began to relax. When the walls and the gate of
Joya del Mar came into view. I felt like a little girl
about to be taken to Disneyland.
It was everything Mommy had described and more, because she had seen it in the evening and hadn't seen the flower beds, the hedges, all of the ponds and fountains. It was incredible to think that one man lived alone in a house this large. It looked
more like a hotel.
Everywhere we looked people were working,
pruning bushes and trees, planting new flowers,
blowing away debris. whitewashing. I understood
now why she said it wasn't so much of an
exaggeration to imagine someone vacuuming the
driveway. All the stone looked new, every window
glistened.
Closer to the house the royal coconut palm trees
stood like sentinels lining the circular entry drive. The
house itself contained four pavilion-like structures
punctuated by graceful arches with a tree-shaded main
facade. The entrance was under a loggia or an arcade
made of cast stone. Just as Mommy had claimed, we
could see the ocean behind the house and another
building down to the left toward the beach,
"Where's the yacht?" I asked. and Winston
laughed. "Down at the dock," he said.
"It's not the sort of boat you can hook to the
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