“Sure. What’s up?”
“It’s about Megan. This boy at school, a year older—”
“Older men, always trouble,” she says.
I tell her the story as briefly as I can, and before I even get to the part about how I need a solution, Karen is offering one.
“Okay, here’s what I think we should do. We’ll get Ben to take her to the dance. No one at her school knows him, so they won’t know that he’s practically her brother. They’ll look cute together and he’ll play it like he’s dippity-do over her, and Colin can be the one looking like a douche, God willing.”
“Really? Do you think Ben would mind?”
“Well, I’ll ask him, but I think he’ll do it. If I can explain it just right, he’ll be overjoyed.”
“What will you say?”
“Something about how some jerk is trying to make Megan miserable. That should do it,” Karen says. “If he knows he’s riding to the rescue, the hero of the story, he’ll be dying to do it.”
“Do you want me to ask him?”
“No, I’ll do it. I’ll call you back. Bye.”
The phone rings while it’s still in my hand.
“Did you talk to Karen?” It’s Diane.
“Yes, and she thinks Ben will take Megan to the dance and shove Colin’s face in it,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t say things like that about another child, but—”
“But yeah, who cares. This is our girl we’re fighting for. Colin’s mom is on her own,” Diane says.
“Hey, that’s my other line. Let me call you back.”
“Roger.”
“Hello?”
“Did you talk to Karen?” It’s Matt.
“I did, after I talked to Diane, who advised me to talk to Karen,” I say, walking through the great room to sit on the patio in the backyard.
“Karen’s the one with sons just hanging around doing nothing,” Matt says.
“That’s what Diane said.”
“Is Ben going to do it?”
“Karen’s asking him now,” I say. “You know, do you think it might actually take a village to raise a child?”
“It may not take a village, but it does take the Exclusives,” Matt says, chuckling. “Am I going to see you tonight?”
“I’ll have to see how this goes. Let me get back to you, okay?”
“If Ben comes through, I want a picture of me pinning her flowers on, or whatever they do nowadays.”
“I think Megan would like that. Oh, there’s my other line. Let me call you back.”
“Got it.”
“Hello?”
“Okay, so I talked to Ben and he wants to know what color Megan’s dress is so that he can buy her a matching corsage. Is that the sweetest thing?”
“I’m going to kiss that boy the next time I see him. Fair warning.”
“David was so upset when he heard about it that he offered to take Megan. He said that he’s tall enough to pass for sixteen and that no one would have to know he’s in eighth grade. Charlie’s so mad that he’s not big enough to take her that he talked about rocking Colin’s mailbox. I didn’t put much effort into talking him out of it,” Karen says, laughing.
“So you’ll bring Ben here? It’s this Saturday. I’ll drive them. I’ll buy the corsage.”
“Are you insane? Ben would die of shame if he didn’t pay for the flowers himself. I’m trying to raise a chivalrous bunch here, Laurie. Don’t get in my way. What color’s the dress?”
“Purple.”
“Like a lavender or a royal or what?”
“Lavender with white accents. She’ll be wearing white shoes,” I say.
“Okay, so does she want the flowers to match the dress or does she want contrast?”
“I have no idea.”
“Is she there? Put her on.”
“She’s at drill team practice,” I say. “I think she’ll trust your judgment on the flowers. I know I do.”
“Okay, and speaking of lavender, how’s Lavender Barrette?”
“The same,” I say, getting up from the love seat on the patio and walking over to the pool.
“You mean the same level of impatience that you finally get married or the same level of patience in dealing with the neurotic Ms. McCormick?”
“You’re so pushy,” I say.
“Somebody has to be since Matt’s clearly falling down on the job. Look, I’ve got to go. Somebody’s trying to call. Call me back with a time!”
I hang up and look around the yard. I wanted a garden wedding once, a wedding like Karen and Jim had at the Bel-Air Country Club. I wanted that wedding with Doug. I never even think of Doug anymore, and in not thinking of Doug, I realize that I’ve left my self-destructive dating patterns in the past. I thought I was choosing the man to love so perfectly, each time so perfectly, but it’s obvious I wasn’t. I was repeating a pattern of emotional distance that I learned from my parents. I loved men who kept me out of their lives. But I don’t do that with Matt. At least, I don’t think I do.
The phone rings in my hand.
“Hello?”
“God, what a prick,” Pi says. “I just heard about Megan and Colonoscopy from Diane. What are we doing to make him suffer?”
I laugh. “His name is Colin.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. So I hear the plan is for Ben to take Megan and push Colonoscopy’s face in it. How’s that going?”
“Everything’s in place. Ben has agreed; he’s buying her flowers with his own money—”
“Sweet kid!”
“And all that’s left is for Ben to formally ask Megan to go.”
“She’ll say yes, right? I mean, she’s not going to feel weird going with Ben.”
“I don’t think so.” But I have to admit, I haven’t put much thought into it. I’ve been too busy rescuing her. “I’ll talk to her as soon as she gets home.”
“Call me back and tell me what she says, what he says, the whole thing.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll call you later tonight.”
“Smell ya,” Pi says and hangs up.
I walk back in the house and put the phone in the charger. It rings a few seconds later. I barely have time to pop my Diet Coke before it’s about to shift to the answering machine.
“Hello?” I say, taking a sip.
“I just heard,” Jim says. “First, can I say a big congratulations that your daughter told you about the whole going-to-second-base thing? Wow. I’m not sure if I should be grossed out, but it seems like a wow to me.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking another sip.
“Second, Ben only has his driver’s permit and he can’t legally drive at night with a passenger, but I was thinking that, if it’s just a few blocks, maybe he could drive them into the hotel parking lot and do the whole valet thing, make a big deal out of it. That would totally mess with Colonoscopy’s head.”
“Colonoscopy?” I say, nearly choking on my drink.
“Pi called.”
“I figured. Listen, I don’t know about driving the car. That seems a little dangerous, not to mention illegal.”
“Try to stop being a lawyer for just fifteen minutes. I’d be in a car right behind them,” Jim says. “But if you agree to this, don’t tell Karen.”
“Right. That’s going to happen,” I say, starting to laugh.
“Narc,” Jim says. “Hey, before I let you go, it’s time for you to rotate your tires. I’ll be over sometime on Saturday.”
“Okay. See you Saturday.”
“See ya, narc,” he says and hangs up.
I have just enough time to use the bathroom before the phone rings again.
“Hey, I just heard.”
“Hi, Cindy. What
did you hear?”
“The whole thing, plus how you might need a great car for Ben to drive Megan in. Bob’s brother just bought a classic Mustang with a perfect paint job; I think it’s a ’sixty-six, blue, but I can’t really remember. Anyway, I’ve already talked to Bob about it and he talked to his brother and they are totally up for a road trip to LA if you want that car for Megan to arrive at the dance in. I talked to Jim already and he said that Ben is totally capable of driving it, and it would only be for a few blocks anyway, so, should I tell Bob he can go?”
“I don’t think Karen is going to agree to let Ben drive. I just got off the phone with her and we agreed that I’d be driving,” I say.
“Really? How long ago did you talk to her, because things may have changed.”
“Well, true. Let me call her and then I’ll call you back.”
“Okay. Bye.”
The phone rings almost immediately and I can hear the warning: low battery sound chirping.
“What the hell?” Diane says. “I thought you were going to call me right back? I’ve heard from Pi and Cindy and Jim already! Way to leave me hanging, McCormick.”
“I’m sorry! I’ve barely been off the phone since we talked. Let me fill you in—”
“Oh, I’m all caught up, but you could have called. The guys here are all atwitter over the whole Colonoscopy debacle. They’re taking bets on how soon he flees the scene. So, what’s Megan wearing? All I got out of Jim was that it was a dress. Idiot.”
“It’s lavender,” I say, “with white trim, white shoes.”
“Speaking of lavender, how’s our buddy Lavender Barrette? Is he still hard on the scent?”
“Classy,” I say.
“McCormick, you’re too old to have to worry about being classy. You either got it or you don’t, and you’ve got it, so live a little.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying marry the poor bastard. He deserves it.”
“Diane, be serious.”
“I am being serious. What the hell are you waiting for?” When there’s only silence on my end, she says, “Sweetie, really, what are you waiting for? Isn’t he the guy you always dreamed of? Isn’t he the guy who makes every wish come true?”
I sigh and say, “Let me call you back on my cell. This thing’s about to go dead.”
“Roger that.”
I call her back on my cell a few seconds later. “The thing is,” I say, without any preamble, “is that he’s not the guy I always dreamed of. The guy I always dreamed of was never this involved in my life. He was always on the outside, or I was on the outside, but there was always this space between us. I never dreamed of a guy who would be close, you know?”
“Okay, McCormick, scratch that. Your dreams suck. Matt’s the guy you should have been dreaming of, right? We can agree on that, right?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring out the kitchen window to the massive sycamore trees. “He’s dreamy; that’s for sure.”
“Then what are you waiting for? This is the first guy who’s gone after you like he means it. Do him a big, fat favor and let him catch you. How hard can it be?”
“I guess not that hard,” I say, starting to laugh.
“Well, hell, no, it’s not hard at all. Now, go fall at his feet and let him do the rest. Call me back with the full scoop! I mean it! I don’t want to hear it from Cindy; she always misses essential details.”
I hang up feeling a bit giddy. I sit down at my kitchen table and stare out at the trees, at the dappled light on the dappled bark, and I think of nothing at all. I am simply happy.
The phone rings.
“Hello?”
“There is no way Ben is driving Bob’s brother’s Mustang,” Karen says.
“I’ve been telling everyone that,” I say.
“What is Cindy thinking? Just because her son is old enough to drive, she thinks everyone is old enough to drive?”
“Well, don’t forget, she used to be an Omega,” I say, grinning, feeling euphoria taking over every cell.
“Okay, just making sure we’re on the same page. Have you talked to Megan yet?”
I glance at the microwave clock. “I leave to pick her up in fifteen minutes. I’ll tell her what’s been happening, and then, what? Let Ben call her with the formal invite?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll have him call her at about seven, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “And, Karen? I told Matt I’d call him back, and after I talk to him, I’m going to be calling you later today. Be available!”
Karen starts laughing. “Okay. I’ll be here. Call him right now, okay? I can’t wait to hear back. I’m going to want every detail! No skipping the juicy parts.”
I nod and start to laugh. “You just got off the phone with Diane, right?”
“Roger that.”
Karen
– Summer 2001 –
“Down in front!”
“Are we getting popcorn at this premiere? A bling bag? Anything?”
“Somebody shove a bag of popcorn in the microwave for Candy before she passes out from hunger,” I say. The whole room looks at me expectantly, so I get up off the floor with a huff and say, “Fine. I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?”
“Finally, we’re getting some service in this dump,” Pi says.
“I’d like my popcorn with just the barest drizzle of butter, salted butter,” Diane says primly, “and then just keep drizzling until it’s sopping wet. Got it? Thank you.”
“Fine, you get drizzled if we get a movie out of you,” I say, heading for the kitchen. “Megan has a schedule to keep and we can’t sit here all day while you mess with the DVD player.”
“McCormick’s DVD player is completely uncooperative,” Diane says, going back to punching buttons, “and does not know how to play well with others.”
“Or it could be operator error,” Pi says.
Laurie’s house is magnificent, sprawling, and homey. All three at the same time. It’s minutes from LA (usually) and yet it seems like it’s on the edge of the magic forest. It’s a pretty place, a place to call home, as Laurie has said more than once, once too often according to Ellen. Oh, Ellen . . . Anyway, where was I? Right. La Cañada. Laurie’s house was looking pretty good when she bought it, but once Megan took up residence, Laurie went full tilt and full out. The house looks fantastic. The kitchen is all white marble with heavy veins and white cabinets and dark wood floors. It looks elegant and warm, high-end and comfortable.
Laurie and Megan don’t look up as I walk in, so I study them for a second before I say anything. Laurie’s hair is a pale champagne blond that makes her eyes look more blue than gray; she wears it shorter, to the chin, blunt cut, no bangs. She looks both very professional and very feminine. Laurie is still slender and still Laurie, but only around the edges. At her core, she’s soft and squishy.
Megan. Megan is Ellen all the way with a sugar coating of Laurie on top. Megan is . . . one of us. Megan is not a placeholder for Ellen—that would be disgusting—but she’s not only Laurie’s kid; she’s our kid, too. To a much lesser degree, naturally, but still, ours.
“I have an order for popcorn from the peanut gallery,” I say, walking in fully. They look up in tandem, this mother and child who found each other like two lost survivors of a shipwreck.
They don’t look alike, not really, but they dress alike and they move in the same way sometimes, a lifting of the head with a simultaneous flick of the hair, the way they root around in their purses, like a careful archaeological dig, the way they use a pen, from the grab all the way to the tossing discard. Laurie is still that blue-blood beauty, and Megan bears the hot, glowing imprint of Ellen’s red-blooded femininity. I still remember that so clearly, my first impression of both Ellen Olson on one side of
me and Laurie McCormick on the other. I don’t know what I was then, except slightly desperate, anxiety and confusion coming out of me with every breath.
“I’m on it,” Megan says, turning from whatever she and Laurie were doing to pull a microwave bag out of the cupboard next to the refrigerator and pop it into the microwave. Megan’s blond hair, long and loosely curled, swings with each movement. She looks like a palomino in motion, young and vital and fearless.
“With butter,” I add. “Real butter. I hope you have it or Diane will stage a mutiny. And she’s the one to do it.”
“I know who I’m dealing with,” Laurie says, pulling a stick of butter out of the stainless steel fridge.
“What are you guys doing?” I say, coming closer.
“Time traveling,” Megan says, her bright blue eyes sparkling.
“Without a net,” Laurie says, smiling up at me. “Look at this, Karen. Look at how young we all were.”
The photo album is something from the ULA student store; red leather, gold embossed with the ULA emblem, and gigantic. It’s a scrapbook, not a photo album at all; do they even sell scrapbooks anymore? Does anyone, anymore, keep the scraps, the paper bits of life that mark large moments and small, the ticket stubs, the theater programs, the letters of acceptance, the transcripts?
There’s a photo of Laurie in her white dress at Presents, holding her yellow and white bouquet on the gold-carpeted stair of the Beta Pi house, her light brown hair swept back behind her shoulders in a smooth, straight fall, her smile picture perfect, frozen and held while the photographer clicked and saved the moment. At the bottom of the picture, Beta Pi Presents 1975, in gold letters.
I look up at Laurie, tears in my eyes, smiling, and say, “Just like yesterday.”
“I know,” she says.
“Enjoy every minute!” I say to Megan, who has come back to stand next to Laurie. “It flies by! You think it will never end, and then, bam, it’s over.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Megan says with a grin. She has a beautiful smile; Ellen’s perfect white teeth in a perfect row.
I flip the pages, past Christmas parties and Hawaiian luaus in some Beta Pi parent’s backyard, to all of us, Candy and Holly and Missy and Pi and Cindy and Joan and Lee and Ellen and Diane and Laurie, and I, arms around one another, grinning, mouths open in a whoop of joy, cuddled next to dates who sometimes turned into husbands and sometimes did not.
Sorority Sisters Page 34
