The Shortest Distance Between Two Women

by Kris Radish

  They met at the senior center.

  It was an immense and startling attraction.

  They danced all afternoon and then went to dinner.

  Robert had no clue what to do.

  The lovely Susie Dell was beyond helpful.

  They started out with dinner and they went shopping.

  Marty visited his home in Charleston.

  They talk every day.

  They have so much in common.

  He feels as if he is more alive than he has ever been.

  And then just as Emma thinks her back is going to snap like a dry bean, she raises the top half of her body, sees her mother place her hand sweetly, gently and with great affection on the curve of Robert Dell’s cheek and kiss him on the lips in front of her second-oldest daughter.

  She loves him, Emma thinks, and gasps just loud enough for Robert and Marty to notice her and come over for the introduction as Erika is left standing with her mouth open. Emma’s next thought, which would have been Or she is falling in love with him, is hacked off by Robert spontaneously giving her a hug.

  Robert is charming, her mother is hanging on his arm as if she has found a new anchor, he’s smart and affectionate and not some lowlife botanist who randomly calls ex-lovers and reminds them of the past so they will be even more embarrassed and filled with self-loathing. It is impossible not to like Robert Dell, and the package includes Susie Dell, who is working the crowd as if she is running for mayor of Higgins.

  Robert passes Emma’s initial test and she presumes she passes his as he warmly squeezes her hand and lets Emma know that she has “one terrific mother” before they move on to the next relative.

  “Jesus,” Erika mutters flatly as she moves in next to Emma. “How in the hell long has this been going on?”

  “I have no clue,” Emma admits, trying hard to be civil. “He’s Mother’s best kept secret. Or one of them, anyway. But I am beginning to think there are more secrets where that came from.”

  “You didn’t know?” her sister demands, this time with such astonishment Emma has to turn to make certain Erika is still standing.

  “No, I don’t know everything, Erika.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you are like … like …” she stammers.

  Impatient Emma cuts her off. “Like what?”

  “Well, you live here. I just thought you would know that our mother has been dating this guy and you must know they are sleeping together, because apparently I am staying at your house, and not hers, which by the way I appreciate very much.”

  “Erika,” Emma says softly, trying very hard to slow her heart. “I do not run this family. Mother runs this family. And I feel like an idiot and many other things because I had no clue, and I admit it. And why the hell haven’t you called me back about the reunion?”

  “Take it easy,” Erika says, all but ignoring the question. “I will fill you in later. Relax. This is a party.”

  Emma wishes someone had told her she was in charge of the world and then given her a map, directions, some kind of detailed and step-by-step guidebook. Relax? She may as well be tied to a torture rack.

  When she lifts her eyes to look at her sister again she sees someone she does not know. Erika looks amazingly like her mother must have twenty years ago. She has let her hair go gray and it matches the color of Marty’s hair and tapers to a few lines of black that run from her temples all the way towards the back of her head and then disappear like magic into her sea of steely gray strands, and Erika’s laugh lines descend, also like Marty’s, not in long lines but in circles, like balls of beautiful, joyous string unraveling. Erika must work out because she is trim, has on a sleeveless dark blue tunic top that shows a large cut of muscles in her upper arms that dance like sweet waves into her upper back.

  Like a random bird that suddenly lands in the wrong state, Emma’s mind flutters and she wonders if Erika, and perhaps Joy and Debra, also worry if they too might die young like their father. Is that why Erika came back before this reunion? Is that why she is here alone? Is Erika terrified that she might be carrying some disabled family gene? Is that why she has never had her own children, why she has stayed away, why she is separated from Emma right now not just in miles but also in emotion? Emma is stunned by all these revelations.

  Emma touches Erika’s arm and says, “I miss you. I miss us.”

  “You’re right,” Erika agrees. “There are things that are important that we need to talk about, and that I really want to share with you.”

  “Because I’m in charge?” Emma says, laughing.

  “No. Because I know you will listen and I have always valued what you have to say even if we were just talking about the weather and what was for dessert,” Erika answers. “We really need to talk.”

  Emma is so astounded she doesn’t know what to say. She is now even more confused than before. Erika is being nice even though she has left Emma hanging about the family reunion.

  “I’m not kidding,” Erika tells her again. “But we’ll have time to finish this later. Let’s not spoil Mom’s big night.”

  Emma opens her mouth to respond just as Debra comes up behind her and pushes her knee from behind so that her leg drops and makes her lose her balance. This is something Debra has been doing to Emma her entire life and something that Debra knows Emma absolutely hates.

  Erika takes a step back as Emma wobbles and there is Debra, standing right behind her, hands on her hips, smiling and looking as if she’s just dipped her entire head into the punch bowl and sucked it dry. She’s even more unsteady on her feet than Emma is and the party is less than an hour old.

  “Debra.” Emma mouths her sister’s name as if each of the two syllables in her name are a word.

  “Wanna talk, Shorty?” Debra challenges, reverting to Emma’s old and much-hated nickname.

  Emma suddenly sees herself lying in the bird-of-paradise bushes with her hands clapped over her ears, her head tipped just a little to one side so that she can drink from a straw that is stuck inside of a very large bottle of wine. There she would lie quietly waiting for the party to end, the relatives to finish the fights that are guaranteed to break out at any moment, and where she can be where she is supposed to be—with her sweet and loving flowers.

  Debra swaggers just a bit and then informs Erika that Emma stole away her boyfriend Samuel, which Emma immediately says is a lie, just as Debra plants herself right in front of Emma and asks if she’s seen Samuel after his phone call.

  “No,” Emma says, desperate to defuse what could very well end up being yet another ugly scene with Debra.

  “Liar,” Debra retorts in a voice that in some civilized places would be considered a yell.

  “Hey,” Erika says, trying to intercede. “Why don’t we go to the front yard? Or better yet, let’s not do this at all. It’s Mom’s party. Do we really need to do this now?

  “There’s nothing to do, Erika,” Emma tries to explain. “It was a long time ago, he just called me, I have not seen him, and I expect never to see him again the rest of my life.”

  “He won’t ever really come back.” Debra snickers.

  “Why do you have to do this, Debra?” Emma wants to know, speaking quietly.

  Debra laughs. “He’d just leave you eventually. Like Rick left Joy.”

  “Rick left Joy?” Erika asks, stunned.

  “Rick ran off with a redhead.” Emma’s trying to restrain her anger.

  “Holy crap,” Erika mumbles.

  “No kidding,” Debra giggles.

  “What else don’t I know about?” Erika asks her sisters.

  “Those are the main things,” Emma assures her. “Unfortunately, there is more, there is always more, and there will be more.”

  “I feel like an ass,” Erika admits.

  “Why?” both Emma and Debra say at the same time.

  “First of all, because I’m clueless and totally out of the loop and that’s clearl
y not because I don’t live here. Second, because I’m sort of afraid to tell you what I have to say after everything that I have just heard.

  “I came back early because I have a job interview here,” she tells them, in a rush. “We’ve been talking for a long time about family and about how Tyler hasn’t really gotten to know any of you and how important family is and I’ve missed so much.”

  “That’s why you are here so early,” Debra says, smiling and turning towards Emma as if she already knew this and she knows something else, something Emma still does not know.

  “Are you serious?” Emma asks, more than astounded and ignoring Debra. “You are thinking of moving back here?”

  “Well, I was until I stumbled into this bizarre family where people are running off with redheads, Mom is having an affair, two of my sisters are squabbling over a man who is obviously a damn fool. Not to mention that I’ve just noticed my niece Stephie looks like she’s part of a circus.”

  “Welcome home, baby,” Debra snorts, reaching for a wineglass.

  And then at that exact moment three teenager Gilford girls, two teenager Gilford boys and a very tipsy Auntie Joy run through the backyard with paper bags over their faces that have been made to look like Halloween masks. They are also wearing their underwear.

  “Sweet Jesus on a handlebar,” Emma moans as the entire backyard erupts into laughter and Erika drops her second drink of the evening and Emma hears her mother say, “I’m so proud of my well-behaved family” at the same moment Robert Dell turns to Susie and adds, “I think this is your fault, sweetheart.”

  Just as Emma knows the party is about to blow up in everyone’s faces, she notices Susie pick up her purse and walk quietly up to Debra and take something out of the purse and show it to her. Debra drops her head to look at it, puts her hands to her face, and then moves her head up and down as if to say yes.

  And this is when Emma realizes Susie Dell was the last one to see the photograph of Samuel before it went missing.

  18

  THE EIGHTEENTH QUESTION:

  Why do you worry so much about what your sisters think?

  THE EMPTY TAKE-OUT CHINESE FOOD containers are lying on their sides on Emma’s porch like tired babies. They are right next to an empty bottle and one half-full of a not-too-timid sauvignon blanc. Susie Dell steps over them, shifts her weight onto her right hip, and asks, “Why do you worry so much about what your sisters think?”

  Emma finishes her entire glass of wine, leans over to refill her glass. Then she says, “What are you talking about?”

  “You just finished all the wine,” Susie Dell says, scooping up the empty bottles and turning to go back inside the house. “If you do not have another bottle, I am going to spend the night here and deprogram you so we can talk about something besides those other three Gilfords and that stupid reunion.”

  It has been a mere two days since the garden party of the century. Since half her family ran through the exquisite, lovely, and once pure and sacred gardens at Marty’s house in their underwear. In their underwear, for Christ’s sake.

  It’s not bad enough that all the kids and Joy did it. By the end of the party, it seemed as if the only people not running in their underwear were Marty, the gregarious but ever gentlemanly Robert, and a handful of Marty’s friends, who were waiting for a ride home because they were too tipsy to drive. Emma, of course, kept her clothes on.

  To say that the Meet Robert party was just a bit out of control would be lying, but to say that it was the social equivalent of the coronation of an English queen, the celebration of a presidential victory, or a Pulitzer Prize party in downtown Manhattan that included all the stars who will soon appear in the movie based on the book, would not be a stretch.

  Emma felt like a playground supervisor as she scooped up dozens of dropped glasses, tried to talk people out of running around in their checkered boxer shorts and Victoria’s Secret bras, handed out robes to some people who’d misplaced their clothes, sent the nieces and nephews off to Debra’s house lest Social Services show up and take them away, and then sat and watched hopelessly as Marty and Robert, Susie Dell, Erika and people who were not even invited to the party but had heard about it and come over, danced until two a.m.

  Joy did dance on the table and ended up snoring in the back of Debra and Kevin’s car. They placed her gently on top of several blankets and listened as she sang herself to sleep.

  The following day, Emma didn’t leave her house. She’d stayed up until four a.m. to make certain that no one drove home intoxicated, that Joy was driven safely to Debra’s and hauled into the back bedroom, that her nieces and nephews were all where they were supposed to be and that Marty was secure in the arms of Robert. She went to bed herself only when Erika finally demanded that she stop cleaning up and take her home so she could pass out in the guest room.

  “Wow, Emma,” she said on the short drive. “I have not had that much fun since my high school graduation party, which, come to think of it, took place in the same backyard and pretty much the same thing happened.”

  “Are you serious or just tipsy?” Emma asked.

  “I’m serious as hell. Don’t you remember? You were like seven or eight and all my friends carried you around on their shoulders and we had a huge water balloon fight and Mom hired what I think was the last live band we were ever allowed to have play outside in the neighborhood.”

  “I was just a little girl.” Emma tried to remember. “I have a vague memory of something like that, but I’m to the point now where I sometimes look for my cell phone when I am talking into it.”

  Erika laughed softly. Then she closed her eyes and whispered that it was also the last time she remembers their father being normal and not ill.

  “Tell me what he was like,” Emma pleaded. “I can’t remember much. And lately I have been thinking there are things I need to know, not just about him, but all of us.”

  “He was quiet and kind and Mom always stole the show and he loved that. He just loved to sit and watch her. It was as if he couldn’t believe that they were married, that she loved him, that they were even in the same room together.”

  “I wish I had more memories,” Emma revealed. “I feel as if I’ve missed so much and then everyone took off.”

  Erika turned in her seat and soberly put her hand on Emma’s arm and told her that she has felt guilty for a very long time about what the other Gilford sisters left her with, about how they all took off and lived their lives, about how Marty was left with Emma, and how Emma was left with Marty and all the grief.

  Emma almost pulled off the road so she could breathe. She had no idea. Absolutely no idea her sister felt that way. But then why the nonchalance about the reunion when Emma had specifically asked for help, almost begged, and then had no reply?

  By the time Emma could think of what to say next, by the time she wanted to say, “Please, stay up all night and tell me stories and answer my questions,” she saw Erika’s head dip and her eyes close and she realized that Erika wasn’t just tipsy but exhausted from travel and everything from the debut of Robert Dell to Joy’s failed marriage. All she could manage was to say, “Oh.”

  And even that didn’t matter because Erika was already past the point of even remembering her last name, which she kept when she married, or knowing why she was being led from the car to a house she hadn’t visited in far too long.

  As Emma turned on the light by her sister’s bed and brought her some water, she dared to ask: “Erika, the reunion, come on, please help me out here. …”

  But as Erika flipped over to what must be her favorite side, and let out a sigh that actually made the end of the pillow case ripple, all she said before she passed out was, “I love you, Emma.”

  Emma let her sleep. The next morning she was still sound asleep when Emma went to work in her yard then came back inside to a note that said Erika was going to try to find and talk to Rick. Later there had been a call saying she was staying out late with the evil and very sad
brother-in-law. Then another note she found on the table after work saying Erika was going to spend the evening with Debra and the kids and could they have a long dinner tomorrow night in Charleston at her favorite restaurant after her interview?

  Whatever, Emma thought as she threw down the note and felt, once again, her position in last place. Impulsively, she’d reached for the phone and called Susie Dell.

  Susie Dell came to her rescue immediately. Moments after she arrived, she ordered take-out food, poured the wine, and then demanded to know if Emma had Gilford whiplash from every damn thing that seemed to be happening in her totally out of control family.

  Whiplash, and then some, Emma admitted during the first bottle of wine as she and Susie rehashed everything that happened at the As the World Turns Gilford-Style garden party.

  “Why didn’t you run in your underwear with me?”

  “Me?” Emma had laughed as the second bottle of wine opened. “Someone had to stay alert in case the cops showed up.”

  “That’s a crock of shit.”

  “It is not.”

  “These people are your family members. You are not a zookeeper, Emma,” Susie Dell said.

  Emma ignored that comment. She’d talked about how Joy for once was funny when she was tipsy. Then she talked about Stephie and how she’d felt all night as if her niece had something to say but never said it. She admitted she wanted to slap Erika upside the head because she was seriously thinking about moving back to Higgins and that is when Susie Dell surprised her.

  Susie asked her why she’s always worrying about what her sisters think.

  “You plan on staying the night?” Emma evades as Susie sits down and puts the bottle, minus what she pours into her glass, between her feet on the porch swing.

  “I’m staying until you answer my question.”

  “Seriously, Susie Dell, what have we been doing for the past several hours?”

  “We’ve been talking about your mother, your sisters, your nieces, my adorable father, a mess of senior citizens, the damned family reunion. And not one word about Emma, not one word at all.” Susie starts to move the swing back and forth. “You’ve totally ignored the entire Samuel fiasco. And that makes me wonder what else you have ignored or avoided.”