Land of Mango Sunsets, The

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  Kevin applauded, and then one by one, every single person in the waiting room joined in. Red-faced and lockjawed, a shocked Agnes Willis sniffed loudly and turned on her heel. After a few minutes of conversation and then showing identification, she successfully pushed her weight around with the admissions people enough and disappeared through the swinging door.

  When she was completely out of sight, Kevin said, “You could have won an Academy Award for that, Petal. You were marvelous.”

  “She’s really horrible, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, and that neck of hers could use a good moisturizer.”

  The elderly but dignified woman tugged at the sleeve of my overcoat and I turned to her.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Wasn’t that Agnes Willis?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I knew her mother. She was a bitch, too.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Kevin said.

  An hour passed and then another. Kevin and I talked about Agnes and Truman and how she had become the evil thing she was.

  “I can’t believe you were ever friends with Agnes Willis.”

  “I wasn’t. Whatever kind of relationship we had was based on my ability to deliver something her project of the moment needed. When Charles closed his wallet I went on her marked-down rack.”

  “Bizarre.”

  “I used to think that being a member of her inner circle would be the most wonderful thing in the world,” I said.

  “Well, Petal, to the outside observer, the glamour is very seductive.”

  “Yes, but it’s an unreal world. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Inauthentic?”

  “Exactly. I mean, think about this. Let’s put aside the fact that every single nonprofit organization in this town serves some very good purpose, because they do.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And that they could not function without volunteers. The private donations of those same volunteers adds up to a substantial amount of money. So, they need the help and they need the money just to stay alive.”

  “No, you’re absolutely right. We’re not pooping on the actual value of volunteers here.”

  “Not in a million years,” I said. “But with the really big bigwigs, here’s how it goes in their private lives. The husband earns tons of money—millions—he travels, and even when he’s in town, he’s never home. The wife hires a nanny to raise the kids.”

  “Nanny is seen as a status symbol.”

  “Not exactly. They are a necessity because how mundane would the mother become if she raised her own children?”

  “Ow. That’s some statement.”

  “Oh, it’s much worse. The mother now has way, way too much time on her hands, because she has to be available to serve as Mrs. Gotbucks. How she can spend that time is limited to the following: shopping, working out, having an affair, or volunteering for some worthy cause that will make her marriage more interesting. And she’s lonely.”

  “Forget her lonely libido for the moment. Let me extrapolate here. The higher the visibility of the organization, the more likely the wife is to keep her husband in line and not in his secretary’s bloomers because he’s obliged to support the cause and to show up for the fetes she organizes.”

  “Right! And the importance of her position is reflected by her assignments. It’s not just the money she wheedles out of her husband’s personal bank account, it’s the money and in-kind services from his firm, their contacts—”

  “It’s about power.”

  “That is precisely what it is about—not for all of them, but gals like Agnes Willis? That’s all she’s got.”

  “It ain’t much.”

  “You can say that again because look at her. She’s cranky for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is because she’s starving herself to death, and no matter how much plastic surgery she gets, she’s still going to be the age she is. She’s angry because she doesn’t understand why she’s not satisfied with her life.”

  “Petal? Sounds a little bit like someone I know and love.”

  “Yeah, but you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m getting over it. I don’t miss her company one bit.”

  “Well, hallelujah! But in that whole bowl of mixed nuts, weren’t there some other gals that were really your friends?”

  “Oh, sure! There were plenty! But you drift apart, you know? This one moves to Florida. Or they decide to volunteer for something else and you become irrelevant in each other’s lives. So-and-so gets divorced and moves home to Nebraska with the kids. New York is such a transient place.”

  “But, come on, Petal, not all of them. I mean, I always thought it was odd that someone as fun and smart as you didn’t have more girlfriends.”

  “Honey, there is no greater social pariah than a single woman. Inviting a divorced woman to your dinner party is just like bringing home a naked leper. At least to the other women in shaky marriages. Eventually I just became a loner, I guess.”

  “Well, you have me.”

  “Yep, and you I love. But, boy, I would give everything I own to turn back this clock. I am so worried.”

  “Me, too. I know you would. So would I.”

  We waited, reading every inch of a tabloid newspaper left on a chair by someone. Each time we inquired we were told that Liz was being treated and we would just have to wait. They were sorry but there was no news. Finally, I heard my name called.

  “Mrs. Swanson?”

  It was a nurse from the examining rooms calling me from the forbidden doorway.

  “Yes?” I hurried over to her. Kevin was at my heels.

  “Are you Liz Harper’s next of kin?”

  “Yes, I am.” This lying business was going to catch up with me someday.

  “Mm-hmm. Follow me, please. The doctor would like to speak with you. We are going to admit Ms. Harper, and as you can guess there are a few forms to fill out.”

  “No problem. Is she conscious yet? Do we know the extent of her injuries? I mean, I watch ER all the time and…what?”

  The nurse, whose name tag read Chantell Williams, RN, was grinning and shaking her head. She was a large woman, to say the least, a kind of cool grandmother with dreadlocks and good humor.

  “Did you say ER? Mercy, I wish real life was as easy as television. Follow me.” She directed us to a doctor, who appeared to be younger than my boys.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Miller. I understand you are related to Ms. Harper?”

  “Yes, I’m Miriam Swanson, her aunt, and this is our close friend Mr. Dolan.”

  “Well, let me tell you. Ms. Harper is a very lucky young lady. Her injuries could have been a lot worse.”

  Dr. Miller explained that Liz had a concussion but should be awake shortly. X-rays revealed that she had two broken ribs, indeed her lung had been punctured, and she had a cracked collarbone. He proceeded to explain that the slash on her cheek was quite deep but they had closed the wound.

  “We stitched it up. But if I were her, I’d see a plastic surgeon,” Dr. Miller said.

  Kevin and I thanked him and breathed a sigh of relief, although neither one of us truly felt relief. Only the first hurdle had been cleared. I went with the nurse to complete the paperwork.

  Nurse Williams and I sat at a desk in a little cubicle. I gave her Liz’s full name, our home address, and her cell-phone number. That was all I could tell her. When it got to the question of medical insurance, allergies, and so on, I had to admit that I had no earthly idea about those things.

  “I thought you said you were her aunt.”

  “Yes, but she only recently came into my life. She’s my sister’s child and we were never close.” For a moment I closed my eyes and put my hand to my chest for emphasis and sighed. My acting seemed to be a natural talent.

  “Uh-huh. You gonna call your sister?”

  “Unfortunately she passed away last year.”

  “And her father?”

  “Gone off
with some woman. Haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Uh-huh. Ms. Harper is single?”

  “Yes. Can I see her?”

  I knew Chantell Williams, RN, knew I was making up the details and I knew also that she did not really care. She just wanted her paperwork filled out.

  “She’s being moved right now to room 238. Wait a few minutes and then you can go up and see how she’s doing.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “She looks like she got hit by a truck. But she’ll be fine and I’m not sure I can say the same for you. You need to calm down, honey.”

  “I could use ten milligrams of something.”

  “And I could, too. All right, Mrs. Swanson, that’s all for now.” She closed her folder and stood to leave.

  “Um, may I ask a question?” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “What happened to Truman Willis?”

  “You his kin, too?” She cocked her head to one side, indicating I had to claim to be related for her to reveal anything to me.

  “Uh, yes, distant cousin, but yes.”

  “I’m gonna tell you this, but if you say you heard it from me, I’m gonna find you.”

  “Me? Speak out of school? Everyone says I am the soul of discretion.”

  “Okay. I can’t say much but I will tell you this. That wife of his is just about the meanest woman I have ever seen in all my life. Meeeeean! Whoo! Jesus, she gave me the chills. No lie. Chills up and down my whole body.”

  “But Truman?”

  “He’s gonna be fine. Your cousin, you say?” She arched her eyebrows.

  “Yes.”

  “Uh-huh. Mrs. Swanson?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t take up poker, okay?”

  We smiled knowingly at each other and I went to find Kevin.

  “She’s on the second floor,” I said. “Let’s get some magazines for her and some soft candy or something.”

  We picked up some mints and reading material in the lobby gift shop and took the short elevator ride. We found her semiprivate room, and thankfully the second bed was empty. There was a curtain pulled around her, and when I peeked in, my heart sank all over again.

  She was in one of those wrinkled hospital gowns. Her top lip was very swollen and her face was already turning to the color of plums. A large bandage covered the other side of her face, and in addition to her IV, she wore a heart monitor. The steady bleep bleep bleep was reassuring but unnerving at the same time.

  I started to shake uncontrollably and Kevin took my elbow.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Sit right here.”

  “What have I done, Kevin? What have I done?”

  “Get over your guilt, Miriam. It’s not going to do any of us any good.”

  “I feel so terrible about this. Nothing like this has ever happened in my entire life. I mean, who would have thought that telling one piece of gossip would lead to this?”

  “Truly. But people are crazy, you know.”

  “We’ll need to find her an oral surgeon.”

  “Yes, and someone very good to look at that gash. God, Liz is such a beautiful woman. This is just so wrong. I hope she presses charges against that bastard. I’d love to read about this in Liz Smith’s column.”

  He had not said that she was no longer beautiful or that it was, in fact, my fault. And he was right; what happened to Liz was so very wrong. Whose fault it was didn’t matter then. We were both deeply upset.

  I knew enough about cuts and gashes to know that she needed somebody besides a resident to do the job. All I could think about was making her whole again as fast as possible. When Liz woke up, I wanted to be able to assure her that the disaster was under control.

  “I’m calling Charlie.”

  “Your son?”

  “Yep. I’ll be right back. I’m calling my boy.” I went outside, took out my cell, and dialed his number. I choked up from the emotion I felt for calling Charlie my boy. How long had it been since I had used such a proprietary term to describe him? Too long. That and many other things were going to change.

  He answered right away.

  “Charlie?” My voice quivered.

  “Mom? What’s wrong? I left a message at the house about dinner. Is next Thursday okay with you?”

  It was highly unusual for me to call him at such a late hour and he probably thought I had burned down the house.

  “Of course. But listen, my new tenant, Liz Harper, was viciously attacked tonight and I’m at Lenox Hill with her. She needs a plastic surgeon, son. She’s a gorgeous girl and she has a terrible deep gash right down her cheek. And she lost some teeth, and oh God, it’s a mess. It’s just a mess.”

  “I’m just finishing here. Why don’t I hop on the subway? I can be there in say, fifteen?”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” I put the phone back in my coat pocket and went back inside to Kevin. “I wish he wouldn’t take the subway. It’s full of lunatics.”

  “Oh, Miriam. You’re such a worrier.”

  “I know. Well, there’s other news I haven’t had a moment to tell you.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “Charlie and Priscilla are getting married.”

  “No! Seriously?”

  “Yes. They are getting married.”

  “She’s Jamaican, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re cool with this?”

  Kevin knew all the reasons I had serious reservations about Priscilla. He looked at me long and hard. I could almost see the wheels of his mind turning as he thought that he would be obliged to adopt my position on the union for the sake of our friendship.

  I inhaled and exhaled deeply and sat up straight in the chair. “Totally cool and copacetic. It’s the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Absolutely! Well then, congratulations!” Brightening then, despite the dire circumstances, Kevin gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I mean, are we going to have steel drums and curried goat? Rum punch?”

  “Whatever Priscilla and Charlie want, I guess? Curried goat? They eat that?”

  “Yeah, it’s quite good, actually.”

  “Uck.” My gag reflex kicked in. “But really. I had a serious conversation with him this evening—before all hell broke loose.”

  “About your relationship?”

  “Or lack of…I’m going to make a concerted effort to get closer to him. And her. He’s the only family I have here, you know?”

  “And I’m chopped liver?”

  “Oh, come on. You know what I mean. I love you from head to toe and you know it.”

  “So what brought on this change of heart?”

  “It was classic. I was cleaning out his room, and going through all his childhood toys, pictures, favorite things, and so on made me realize how much I miss being in his life. It’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely, Miriam. Ah, dear Miriam! The soft heart of a mother doesn’t make you matronly or an old crone, you know. I mean, Jackie O had children and she was chic until her last breath. We’ll have to get you big sunglasses.”

  “First thing tomorrow.”

  Simultaneously, we looked at Liz. She seemed so young to me.

  “This is so unfair,” I said.

  “And unnecessary,” Kevin said. He pulled a guest chair over to Liz’s bed from the other side of the room. “I can only hope that lecherous creep, Truman Willis, is writhing in pain.”

  I looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway. Kevin stood, they shook hands, and then my son gave me a hug.

  “I got here as fast as I could, Mom. I don’t think I’ve heard that kind of distress in your voice ever. Are you okay?”

  It was obvious then, and perhaps for the first time, that my Charlie was a grown man, and seeing him in that light, I was overcome with such emotions that I didn’t know what to say. It was a combination of where did the years go? And this entire disaster can be laid at my feet. And please tell me everything’s going to be all right
.

  I managed to whisper, “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  I must have seemed dramatic to him because he looked to Kevin for an explanation.

  “Your mother feels responsible for this and she is being very hard on herself.”

  “What happened? Jeez, poor kid. What’s she got?”

  Kevin went down the litany of her ailments, and when he was finished, Charlie seemed unshaken.

  “Look, Mom, I did a rotation with Gerald Imber. He’s a world-class plastic surgeon. I mean, I don’t want to disturb the dressing on her wound to have a look, but I’m not worried. Imber will make her look like a movie star. He loves me. I’ll call him in the morning.”

  “Even I’ve heard of him,” I said.

  “He’s fabulous,” Kevin said. “I want him to do my upper eyes.”

  Charlie looked at Kevin as though he had just dropped from the moon.

  “When the time comes, of course.”

  “Right. And her teeth? I know about twenty guys who can give her a better smile than Paula Zahn. All the rest of the stuff? Bed rest and painkillers. She’ll be fine in two weeks. Guaranteed.”

  “Heaven knows, I hope you’re right,” I said.

  “You have to have faith in your doctor, Mom.”

  “Well, there may be an issue of money…” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Charlie said, “all these guys take credit cards.”

  “Send the bills to our Mr. Willis,” Kevin said. “If he doesn’t expire.”

  “Then we could send them to Agnes,” I said, “which might be fun. Or I guess we would have to sue his estate.”

  “Don’t sweat that,” Charlie said. “No doctor worth his license is going to let a girl like this walk around with no teeth and a big scar. That’s crazy. We’ll work it out.” He looked at his watch. “I gotta be at the hospital in six hours. I’d better get moving.”

  I got up and walked him to the door. I was so filled with pride that my little boy, now a grown man, could walk into a room and, in a matter of minutes, calm his mother’s worst fears. My eyes were watery and I knew I had no powder or lipstick on—I probably looked like I was a thousand years old. And I was tired, so very tired.

  “Thank you, Charlie. Thank you for coming. Really.”

  He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. He put his arms around me and pulled me into a big bear hug. “Aw, Mom? Come on now. Look, I want you to call me whenever you are worried about anything, not just medical stuff, okay?”