Daisy frowned at the trace of bitterness in Manny’s voice even as she asked, “So what are you going to do now?”
“I’ve already done it,” Manny replied calmly.
“What have you done?” Daisy asked.
“I’m cashing out my pension. Rebecca, you can sell my house. I’ve decided I’m going to have a mid-life crisis, and by God, I’m going to have it like a man!”
“What the hell - ?” Rebecca asked, at a loss.
“I’m going on a road trip. Hopefully with a young man in a hot red convertible – but I’ll take whoever shows up.”
Daisy stared at her, stunned. All she could think to say was, “Huh?”
“I put the personal ad online today,” Manny continued.
Manny handed Daisy a slip of paper covered with her familiar scrawl.
Daisy read it out loud for Rebecca’s benefit. “SWF, 45, having mid-life crisis, seeks travelling companion with own money for six-month road trip to destinations unknown. Don’t worry – no sex wanted or offered. Young men preferred but really don’t give a damn. You have a month to respond then I’m leaving with or without you. Hot red convertible will be considered an asset. ROSE!”
“Now I know you’re pissed if you’re calling me Rose,” Manny said ruefully.
“I’m your sister – I’ll call you whatever the hell I want!” Daisy snarled.
Rebecca finally found her voice again. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?”
“No,” Manny said seriously. “I think I’ve finally found it.”
* * * * *
Minus Twenty-one Days
Zeke shuffled into his living room wearing a t-shirt and boxers, a cup of coffee lovingly cradled in his hands as if it was more precious than diamonds. He settled himself at his desk, took a sip and closed his eyes in bliss. With a yawn, he scratched at the stubble on his cheek then turned on his computer and logged into his writer’s account at What Women Want.
Time to check in on the reaction to his latest blog, he thought. He was actually rather proud of it; “In Praise of Older Women” had been a tour de force, even if he did say so himself. He settled in and had just begun to read the comments when his cell phone rang.
“Yeah?” Zeke answered, his New Zealand accent, as usual, more pronounced in the morning.
“Have you seen the comments on your latest blog?”
Zeke leaned back in his chair with a fond smile. “Good morning to you too, Leah. Yes, I slept well, and not alone – my date with Dixie went really great last night, thanks for asking.”
On the other end of the phone, Leah rolled her eyes in exasperation at her husband TJ as she replied, “Whatever. Take a look at the comments.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to go through them now.”
TJ leaned closer to the speakerphone and said, “Remember you live with Dixie – your dates always end well.”
“That’s what you think,” Zeke muttered to their amusement as he focused on the comments. He read avidly, occasionally snorting in exasperation or laughing or scribbling a note about something he wanted to respond to later.
“Hey – how’d it go yesterday?” Zeke asked as he worked.
“Embarrassing,” TJ groaned.
“The nurses were all impressed with you, though,” Leah said, a thread of humour in her voice. “They said that was the fastest they’d ever seen anyone fill up that little cup.”
“Doesn’t sound impressive to me!” Zeke laughed.
“Me either,” TJ agreed wryly. “They probably felt sorry for you, Leah – perhaps I’m always that quick on the draw.”
Zeke sputtered a laugh. “So what were the results?”
“Nothing so far,” Leah replied. “We meet with the doctor in a couple of weeks, once my tests come back.”
“Well, I’m sure everything will be fine. Sometimes it just takes a while to get pregnant.”
TJ and Leah exchanged a glance. “Yeah, sometimes,” TJ agreed slowly.
“Some pretty good battles going on this time on my blog, huh?” Zeke said, changing the subject as he continued reading and making notes. His voice was deadpan, belying the huge grin on his face.
“Come on, Zeke!” Leah said. “We both know this is the most reaction you’ve ever received! I knew that blog was gonna be controversial, but this -”
“Surpasses even your wildest hopes?”
“Yes!”
Zeke continued scanning the comments as he said, “Which part do you think did it? My witty jabs at cougars? My even wittier comments about the drones and drudges?”
“Probably both – and probably the fact that your ‘praise’ is anything but. Especially when you get into women’s mid-life crises.”
Zeke shrugged even though Leah couldn’t see him. “I call ’em like I see ’em.”
“I know – it’s why I hired you and why I publish you even though you really haven’t got a clue what women want.”
“That’s not what Dixie told me last night. Or this morning.” Zeke’s voice was unbearably smug and Leah rolled her eyes again.
“Yeah?” she said. “Give some pointers to TJ then.”
“Hey now!” TJ protested.
Leah grinned at him, then leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.
“Sorry, honey – couldn’t resist,” she said. “Especially after your performance at the clinic yesterday!”
TJ pouted until she kissed him again, this time a bit more thoroughly.
“Okay, lovebirds – I’m still on the line,” Zeke groaned. “So, Leah, does this mean you want me to do a follow-up to this piece?”
“Better than that. Wait till you see -”
“Whoa!”
“Got to that part, huh?” Leah chortled.
Zeke stared in disbelief at his computer screen. “Is this ad for real?”
“Oh, yeah,” Leah said gleefully. “I’ve checked it out.”
“Huh?”
“I called the number and spoke to...” Leah shuffled through the paper on the table in front of her then picked up a small piece with some notes scribbled on it. “I spoke to ‘Manny’. She’s really having a mid-life crisis, she’s really heading out on a road trip and she’s really looking for a travelling companion.”
Zeke flopped back in his chair with a huff. “Is she suicidal or nuts?”
“She just sounded kind of frazzled.”
“Let me guess. You want me to interview this woman and – what? Make her the face of the pathetic older woman I just wrote about?”
“I want you to go with her.”
* * * * *
Minus Fifteen Days
“Even though I still think you’ve lost your mind, I can’t say I’m sorry you’re throwing everything out,” Rebecca said, making a small moue of distaste as she lifted yet another grey skirt out of the closet.
“Me neither,” Manny sighed. “When did I stop buying colours?” She frowned as she checked over a grey blazer before tossing it on the donation pile.
“You never bought bright colours,” Daisy objected mildly as she rifled through the shirts that Manny stored in her chests of drawers, “but you used to buy strong ones.”
She glanced at the other two who were giving her puzzled looks. “You know – black, red, white.”
“Oh – and you had that jewel tone period, remember?” Rebecca said brightly. “Those strong blues and greens.”
Manny smiled fondly. “I remember.”
“But no patterns.”
“Not by my face anyway,” Manny agreed, tossing another grey blazer on the donation pile.
“Do we get to go shopping with you?” Rebecca asked.
“If you can meet me – sure,” Manny grinned. “But I’m not waiting for you.”
They worked in silence for a few moments before Rebecca said, “I have to leave around five. Jaime’s bringing Tris over tonight and said she wanted to talk to me – alone.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Manny said.
Rebecca shrug
ged as she tossed another non-descript skirt onto the rag pile. “It’s probably another rant about The-Currently-Evil-One.”
Both Daisy and Manny snorted.
“The divorce is still on then?” Manny asked.
“So far today,” Rebecca agreed and made a show of checking her watch, “but it is only noon.”
“This has to be tough on Tris,” Daisy said sympathetically and Manny nodded in agreement.
Rebecca sighed. “She hasn’t said anything, but then she doesn’t usually say anything to me.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She doesn’t like me much.” She laughed lightly, but her eyes showed the bewildered pain that lay beneath her words.
“She likes you just fine,” Manny protested, then bit her lip. “I’m sorry – that was stupid.”
Rebecca shrugged, determinedly focused on the skirts. “She’s her mother’s daughter,” she said, and pressed her lips into a thin, tight line.
Daisy and Manny exchanged significant glances then turned back to their friend, who after a moment sighed and met their eyes.
“I know – I know – it’s not all on them. It’s never only one person’s fault. I’m a responsible adult and I have to take my share of the blame for failing to bridge the gap between me and my daughter, and me and my granddaughter. Blah, blah, blah. I get it.”
“Nobody’s judging you,” Manny said gently.
“Why not? She does.” Rebecca angrily threw another skirt on the donation pile and glared at the clothes, her hands on her hips.
They stood in tense silence until Manny said tentatively, “Are – are you pouting?”
Rebecca’s startled gaze met hers. She blinked, nonplussed, before she frowned and put a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my God – I am!” she exclaimed and started to laugh. The other two joined in. After a moment, they sobered and grinned at each other.
Rebecca sighed. “Seriously, it’s really not their fault. Especially Tris. I mean, she’s only ten for God’s sake! And I’m her grandmother – it’s just...unfortunate that her personality is so much like her mother’s.”
“At least they get along,” Manny said with forced optimism.
Rebecca rolled her eyes at her. “Always a silver lining, huh? You get that from your mother.”
They lapsed into silence and worked steadily until Rebecca said quietly, “I sometimes wonder if I would have been more successful with Jaime if your parents hadn’t died when she was so young.”
“Okay, come on,” Manny said, “you weren’t un-successful! I mean, she’s not in jail – she’s smart – okay, she hasn’t really held a job, but you’ve supported her – I mean, you’re rich, and The-Currently-Evil-One is also rich. But she’s not...you know, living on the street!”
Rebecca and Daisy blinked at her.
“No...,” Rebecca said slowly.
“Anyway, you did just fine,” Manny continued. “You were just a child yourself – and after our parents died, you were really all alone, well, except for us, of course. But I mean, his parents – and your parents -”
“Don’t,” Rebecca said sharply.
Manny frowned at her. “All I’m trying to say is – you’ve gone from a disowned, homeless pregnant teenager – with the deadbeat dad heading for the hills – and look at you now! Successful, wealthy, with a daughter who may not like you much, but she’s at least a functioning human being. And Tris – regardless of your personality clashes – she’s your granddaughter! And that can only be a good thing!”
Rebecca nodded glumly. “You’re right,” she sighed. “And I love them, of course – just like they love me. Really – like we have a choice!”
“Rebecca,” Manny chided.
“You know what I mean. I just...I just wish we liked each other more, you know?”
The three friends worked in silence for a few moments.
“You never liked your mother either,” Manny said thoughtfully.
Rebecca glared. “I liked her just fine until she threw me out of the house!”
“You know -”
“Don’t! My God – don’t you talk to me about my parents!”
“You know what your dad was like!” Manny protested, “I just don’t think you should always blame your mother for your father’s actions.”
Rebecca glared at her. Manny stared calmly back, the air crackling with tension.
“What are you trying to say?” Rebecca snarled.
“That it’s genetic. Or something. This – this – tendency to blame the mother for the sins of the father.”
Rebecca looked stunned. “Do you think that’s what this is all about?”
“She was asking you about her dad the other day, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“And you told her...?”
“The truth. His name and what happened. You know, everything she already knew.”
“Well, maybe she’s just...resentful about what her dad did, and – well – she only has you to take it out on.”
Rebecca stared at Manny in wide-eyed silence.
“Or maybe I’m full of shit,” Manny continued, “I don’t have any kids; what the hell do I know?”
Rebecca stared for another moment before she reluctantly grinned and laughed. “Hey, it’s as good a theory as any I’ve managed to come up with.” She shook her head. “Enough about me. Have you had any responses to your ad?”
“Tons. Tons! I’ve set up meetings with the four that seem the most promising and we’ll see how it goes.”
“Well, if you choose one, give me their name and I’ll have Max do a background check on them,” Daisy said.
“That seems like a little bit of overkill,” Manny murmured.
“You’re my only sister. I’m not about to let you leave town with a total stranger and not have some idea about who, and what kind of person, they are. Besides, Max owes me. I’ve gone above and beyond for him more times than I can count.” Daisy shrugged. “Plus he likes you.”
“He’s not going to be tracking my credit card records is he?” Manny asked, her eyes wide.
“If I ask him,” Daisy replied primly, then grinned. “Only if you don’t call me every couple of days and let me know where you are and if you’re okay. And e-mails won’t be enough! Anyone can send an e-mail.”
“I’ll call. Don’t worry.”
“So when do you meet these people?”
“Tomorrow at the coffee shop on the corner.”
“Good luck.”
~~~~~
Jaime was sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning’s newspaper when Rebecca breezed in later that evening.
“Sorry, Jaime,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting you until closer to five-thirty.”
“That’s okay,” Jaime drawled, bored. “I’m used to waiting for you.”
Rebecca’s step faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly and continued to the stove. She filled the kettle as she considered ways to respond to Jaime’s comment before she decided there’d be no point. She replaced the kettle on the stove and turned on the heat before she turned to Jaime with a determined smile.
“Tris in the family room?”
Jaime shrugged. “I assume. Either that or her bedroom.”
Rebecca nodded and thoughtfully contemplated her daughter. She’d tried to give Jaime a good life: safe, secure and protected. She’d worked hard – maybe too hard, she acknowledged. She’d made sure Jaime never came into contact with the fleeting lovers Rebecca had had over the years; she’d never found a man she trusted enough to introduce to the most precious person in her life.
Perhaps she should have told Jaime she loved her more often, Rebecca mused. Jaime, however, was apparently more interested in the paper than in speaking to her mother, and Rebecca heaved a silent sigh.
“So,” she said with forced cheer, “you said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
Jaime glanced up, then nodded as she folded the paper and laid it aside. The kettle began to whistle as
Rebecca took two cups out of the cupboard and took the lid off the teapot. She warmed the pot then turned to Jaime with an expectant, quizzical look.
Jaime calmly met Rebecca’s eyes and said, “I’m going to hire Max to look for my dad.”
Rebecca stilled. She blinked when she realized Jaime was waiting for her to say something.
“Oh,” was all she could manage as she turned back to the teapot.
Jaime snorted in frustration. “Oh? Is that all you can say? Oh?”
Rebecca shrugged, her eyes resolutely on her hands as she made the tea.
“You’re thirty years old. You’re more than old enough to make your own decisions. What else is there for me to say?”
“I don’t get you, you know. You make no goddamn sense.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Rebecca muttered under her breath. She carried the teapot and two cups to the table and frowned at Jaime.
“Why do you say that?” she asked aloud.
Jaime threw herself back in her chair with a huff, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
“You’ve never once blamed him, or said anything truly bad about him to me. You’ve never even called him a name! You can’t be this perfect! You must have hated his guts! You must still hate him! I know I hate Blake right now, and he’s at least in Tris’ life. Are you really this...this noble and perfect?”
The words would have been flattering if Jaime’s lip hadn’t been lifted in a sneer. Rebecca stared at her daughter, her stomach roiling with anger and nausea at having to think about everything that had happened to her over thirty years ago. She carefully poured herself some tea with shaking hands; she added honey then sat back, cradling the cup, taking comfort from its weight and heat.
“Of course I’m not perfect,” Rebecca said, doing her best to keep her tone neutral. “Of course I was angry – who wouldn’t be?”
She swallowed, her throat clicking. Then she thought, no. Jaime was an adult; had been for a very long time now, and a mother herself since the age of twenty. Jaime wanted to know how Rebecca had felt; perhaps it was time to tell her. To truly tell her.
A Life Less Ordinary Page 2
