by Ashley Pullo
“Well then shit, let’s go to the jewelry store now!” Zach speeds out of the driveway and raises the volume to the radio. I put on my sunglasses and turn to admire his stunning profile. He’s relaxed, but there always seems to be a hint of sadness behind his eyes.
“So, is your mom at the hospital or a doctor’s office?” I ask.
“She’s at the house,” he says flatly.
“Oh, it’s probably more comfortable to get chemo in your own home.” I mean, I can only imagine. I haven’t told Zach, but I’m afraid to meet his mom. I’m not always appropriate, and I’m not great at hiding my fear.
“Mom isn’t on chemotherapy anymore.” His face saddens as he inhales deeply. “We’re here.” I look ahead of me at a large, gated driveway. We’re not even three minutes from my parent’s house, but this is like a whole other dream world. The gate opens and we pull through the iron behemoth, me with my mouth open and Zach waving at a man in a security uniform. Holy, holy shit. The house is a mansion, like Daddy Warbucks-size. I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable and underdressed.
“So, I think I will just hang outside by the garden, or the courtyard, or the tennis courts, I mean Jesus Zach, you didn’t tell me you were the prince of Greenwich!”
Zach stops the car and turns to face me. “Natalie, shut up. We had a deal and you’re coming inside. I need you as a friend right now.”
I swallow my words and gain my composure. My friend needs me and I will not be selfish. I will not be selfish. I will not be a brat. I will . . .
“Let’s go, then.” I jump out of the car and plaster on a smile. I feel Zach’s hand on the small of back, leading me to the house. The doors open and we’re greeted by a lovely woman in her mid-fifties wearing overalls and garden clogs. Surely this isn’t his mom.
“Hey Aunt Patty, I want you to meet my friend Natalie.” Zach nudges me forward as the woman smiles sweetly and offers a hand.
“Hi Natalie! So nice of you to tag along with this big goof.” She slaps Zach on the back lovingly and continues. “I feel it’s my duty as his aunt to embarrass the heck out of him as much as possible.”
I shake her hand and smile at her warm inclusion. “Then I’m sure you have plenty of stories and photos to keep me entertained for hours!”
“Oh boy, do I! I like her, Zach!” Aunt Patty motions for us to follow her through the lobby, I mean foyer. Everything is expensive, no doubt, but there’s also an air of livability. It’s not a museum and I’m sure Zach probably had some rich boy parties here in his youth. “Your mom is in the garden room watching the squirrels fight over acorns.”
Zach leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Are you okay with this?” I nod, not prepared for what I’m about to encounter.
“Claire? Zach and his friend Natalie are here to annoy you!” Aunt Patty says.
I’m shocked. I can’t breathe because every bodily organ is lumped in my throat. My eyes are stinging and my heart is doing somersaults in my stomach. She’s not getting treatment, she’s dying.
“Hi Mom! I cut some lavender this morning from your garden and the roses look phenomenal. There must be a hybrid of sorts because I swear one bush was a blue color.” Zach sits in a chair near her hospital bed and motions for me to join him. I can’t. I physically cannot move my legs. “Mom, I want you to meet Natalie. She’s like a little star that fell from the sky.” I shake my head violently as tears stream down my cheeks. Aunt Patty comes to my side and wraps her arm around me.
She leans in to whisper in my ear, “Don’t be frightened, there is only love in this room.”
And I do it, with Patty’s help, I make my way to her bedside. Even with the large machines and tubes swarming her body, I can see her beautiful face, smiling up at me.
“Hi Mrs. Parker.” I blubber.
“Claire.” She says slowly.
“So Mom, Natalie just got a job with Molly. She’s a PR expert and speaks French.” Oh, I could just kill him.
“That’s true.” I sit down next to Zach and squeeze his leg.
“Natalie is from Canada and sometimes she says funny words.” Oh dear god, this is so weird. He’s trying to rile me up and force me to be myself.
“I can’t help that Zach doesn’t speak the language. Claire, your son is very sarcastic and a bit of a dreamer, do you know where he could’ve picked this up?”
“I have . . . no . . . fucking . . . clue.” Claire’s smile is the same crooked grin that Zach often flashes and it’s apparent that their relationship was the family glue.
“Okay Mom, that round goes to the mouth of Natalie LeGrange. I’m going to take her up to my room and make-out, but we’ll be back down for some lunch.” Zach stands up and pulls me with him. He leans over his mom and kisses her on her bald head and my tears are about to make another appearance but then . . .
“Use . . . protection,” Claire whispers.
Inside Zach’s childhood room, I take a moment to snoop around and gather my thoughts. He lounges on a bean bag and watches me, amused by my behavior.
Okay, so Claire’s obviously dying. So why am I here? Maybe this is one of those things where he needs to marry me to inherit the family fortune. No, that’s not it, his dad is still in the picture and that only happens in movies. He mentioned that he had other plans for his life, maybe he wants me to take care of his mom so he can get out of town. No, he definitely loves his mom and I’m not a caretaker. Wow, there’s a lot of funky shit in this room. Zach was a total stoner in high school.
“Is this a bong?” I hold up an orange tube with a little bowl and shake my head.
“Maybe. Now come kiss me.”
“Not yet. Let me do what I need to do.” I walk to his closet to survey his clothes. There’s a bunch of Princeton shit and I realize we never even talked about his life. He’s been so evasive about what he does or wants to do. It’s like he’s more concerned about protecting and helping me—“Did you go to Princeton?”
“Yes.”
“Does your mom have cancer?” I face him, immediately feeling regret.
“No. I mean, the doctors don’t really know.” He gets up from the bean bag and sits on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed and his head drooped. I move beside him and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Talk to me. I’m your friend, remember?” Zach lifts his head and smiles at the little star resting on my neck.
“My mom’s a doctor, conducting medical research for drugs. She actually started Parker and Parker and my dad was just the face of the company, the businessman that fronted the initial costs. Mom has worked in a lab at Mt. Sinai for twenty years, well up until September 11, 2001.
“She was in the lab that day working on a new drug when the planes crashed into the towers. It was part of her oath to serve those in medical need and she selflessly spent thirty-three days at Ground Zero while my dad bunkered away in Greenwich, working from home and ignoring everyone around him.
“I had just moved into my apartment and I offered my bed to Mom, but she refused. She camped out Downtown like a refugee, never abandoning the responders digging through the rubble. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom put on gloves and started hauling away debris, it’s just in her nature. Around Christmas, she got a cold that eventually lead to pneumonia. I took her to specialists and a CT scan finally revealed the black masses swallowing up her lungs. It was assumed that she had lung cancer, but two rounds of chemotherapy did nothing but make her weak and hopeless. She’s on full-time oxygen and last week she started the morphine drip.” He starts to cry with the last few words, “it’s over.”
My eyes swell into a watery mess and my heart beats erratically. I kiss him passionately, trying to swallow all his pain, if just for a moment. Zach pins me down on the bed and tears drop from his eyes. I drink their saltiness and inhale his hot breath, consuming all his repressed hurt. He’s wild and emotional, but I gather him in my arms and hold him. The child, the man, my best friend.
September 26, 20
02
“How are you managing with the Russell party? I swear, that family can be quite eccentric.” My new boss, Molly, is fanning herself with an ornate Chinese fan and pinning red fabric to a presentation board.
“Yeah, they’ve changed the theme six times and now they want camels!”
“Oh good lord! I’m so sorry. My best advice is to keep detailed notes and just go with it.”
Today is my third day and I’m already knee-deep in shithole clients. I’m actually surprised Molly trusted me with planning an event with so little experience and an unrefined mouth. I thought I would just be here to answer phones and maybe do some PR work, but she’s a sweetheart from Nashville and seems to have a lot of faith in me . . . or she owes Zach a big favor.
“I hope my instincts are enough. Do you need help with that presentation board?” I see Molly struggling with the fabric and offer her a helping hand.
“How do you feel about fortune cookies? Do they even have those in China? The clients want Asian Elegance, but I’m stuck somewhere between 1940s Bangkok and P. F. Chang’s!” Molly smiles, but her eyes are wildly stressed.
“I think fortune cookies could work. Maybe spray them gold and use them as place card holders?”
“Um hum, there you go! See Natalie, you’ve got what it takes. How are things with Zach? Excuse my meddling ways, but I was raised by a church-gossiper.”
“That’s okay Molly, I like to know juicy details as well. Let’s get back to Zach, what’s going on with you and that mysterious businessman?” Molly blushes and sits down at her desk.
“Mr. Ross and I are just friends.” She scrunches her nose and chews on the tip of her pen. “Is it that obvious, Natalie? Oh, he’s such a gentleman and makes me swoon. They just don’t make them like him anymore.” Molly is in her early forties, and while I admire her tenacious spirit of being a modern woman, I don’t envy her dating pool.
“He seems dashing! And you’re right, men my age just want sex.”
“What about Zach?”
“He pretty much only wants sex.” I smile as she shakes her head in dismay, although I secretly know she and the debonair Mr. Ross fuck like rabbits.
The phone rings and I take it as my duty to answer all calls.
“Molly’s Events and Planning, Natalie speaking,” I say cheerfully.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
“Cousin Alfred?” I giggle.
“Ha ha, Nat. Are you staying over tonight?” The truth is, I’ve stayed over every night for the past week, but it’s cute that he always asks.
“Yes, dear.”
“Mmm, and can I put my dick between your tits?”
“Do you even need to ask? I’ll be by around six.” I type in exotic animal rentals on an internet search, hoping to find nothing.
“Maybe I’ll feed you first, if you’re a good girl. Shove a nice thick cock between your luscious lips.” I glance at Molly and she’s totally staring at me, nosy little belle.
“Great, I’m starved. See you later, lover!” I hang up the phone and rustle in my chair.
Molly is nodding her head in excitement. “See, Natalie! Zach is gentleman, calling on you like that.” She smiles sweetly and continues working on her board.
“He is indeed.” I laugh.
September 27, 2002
“I need to go home tonight and pick up some more clothes. The last thing I want is for my southern employer to think I’m some wanton hussy shacking up with a guy.” I quickly brush my teeth and dab on some travel-size perfume. I’m already running late due to the early morning shower shag and yet Zach is still not satisfied. Look at that strapping boy, calmly leaning against the bathroom door, smiling at me with a big fat hard-on.
“But aren’t you my hussy? I’ll go with you and we can stop by and see Mom. There’s something I need to discuss anyway.” Oh damn. Oh God! Could this really be happening?
“Are you proposing? Because I will say no.”
“Hell no! You make an excellent lover, but you would be a horrible wife.” Zach flashes his crooked grin and makes a goofy face.
I cross my eyes and smooch my lips, “Thank god. Okay, pick me up from work around five and we’ll go together.”
After we stop by my house to gather some clothes and my Aveda shampoo, I drive Dad’s car to Zach’s mansion (it drives him insane when I refer to his home as a mansion.) We’re greeted by a middle-aged man in a tennis outfit, same sandy hair and the same navy eyes.
“Hello Dad.”
“Son.” The man acknowledges Zach but keeps his eyes directed at me. “You must be the girlfriend.” He extends his hand but Zach grabs both of my arms and clears his throat.
“Dad, we need to talk. May we use your study?” Raymond Parker grits his teeth and I can only imagine what he’s thinking. I’ve seen enough episodes of 90210 to know that rich guys always knock up the white trash and dishonor the family.
“Fine. Can your friend sit with your mother?” We follow Raymond into the house and the tension is unbearably thick.
“Nat, can you hang out with Mom? I’ll come get you in a few minutes.” Zach places his hands on my shoulders and smiles sweetly. “Just read her a magazine or tell her a funny story. Be yourself, ma femme.” He puts his hands in his pockets and follows his dad down a long hallway. God, I wish I knew what they were discussing!
I make my way into the garden room just past the kitchen. Claire’s eyes are closed and there’s a beautiful opera melting through the speakers. I approach her quietly, not wanting to wake her, but she opens her eyes as soon as my fat ass plops down on the chair.
“Natalie?” she breathes.
“Yes, Claire. Zach and I stopped by because I desperately need your advice about some camels. You see, my new job with Molly requires me to do some crazy stuff. Now, I’ve done some crazy shit in my life, but I never thought I would have to create the Sahara Desert on the Upper East Side.” I pause to see if she’s following and she’s grinning.
“So my mom suggested I just get a bunch of hookah pipes and set up tents and let everyone get really high and imagine the camels. I could even get a couple cardboard cutouts to enhance the mirage. Zach seems to think that monkeys with fez hats would be more fun, but I really don’t want to disappoint Molly or my eccentric clients.” Claire’s chest starts to flail and I’m nervous I did something to hurt her, but she’s smiling and tapping her hand against the rail. I place my hand on top of her frail fingers and she mumbles a few words—
“Il t’adore. Sa femme, Natalie.” She quiets to silence and the only noise is the pressure of the oxygen tank filtering in clean air. Her eyes close, but her chest is still inflating. Goosebumps invade my skin and I contemplate holding a mirror under her nose.
“Natalie? Are you ready to go?” Zach is standing over my shoulder and I know he senses my anxiety. “You did a great job. She’s happily resting.” I release Claire’s hand and stand next to him. He leans over and kisses her head then whispers at a volume I, too, can hear. “La vie est un interlude au salut.” Life is an interlude to salvation.
On the train ride back to Manhattan, I snuggle into Zach and think about the peculiarity of what I witnessed. Claire speaks French. Zach speaks French. And I still don’t know what’s going on.
“She said you loved me,” I blurt.
“She’s on morphine.” Zach smiles playfully and I jab him in the stomach.
“Be serious for one fucking minute! Stop patronizing me. Stop giving me things to distract me. Stop making me assume you’re full of secrets.” I cross my arms but remain firm. He cannot actually think he’s the one saving me.
“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you would sacrifice a life in order to save one?” He yanks my hand from my chest and pulls it close to his heart. “Can you feel what you do to me? You’re my pleasure from the pain, my distraction from the voyage and the best friend I will ever have.”
I mumble and shake my head, “I don’t—“
“Th
at day on the train, I wasn’t visiting my mom or taking her to treatment, I was getting my things in order. I went to see my physician, update my passport and take care of my trust with the family attorney.”
“Oh god, no! Are you sick? What’s happening?” I cover my mouth in fear and collapse my weak body into his.
“I’m not sick, I’m a Marine.” He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. “I’m leaving for Afghanistan. Tomorrow.”
“What?” My scream is blood-curdling and every passenger stares in our direction, wondering what could be so horribly wrong between two young lovers. “No! No, you cannot leave me. Absolutely not. What about your family? What about me?”
“This was decided long before I met you and I didn’t realize I would fall so deeply in love with you. But I need you to be okay with this, Natalie, please. Those fuckers impacted our lives but I refuse to let them take our dreams.”
“You’re wrong, so wrong. I’m selfish! I’m a selfish, selfish baby and I want you here. I’m not built like you and I have no honor, please Zach, stay with me, be with me.” My sobbing and hyperventilating muffle my plea, but it doesn’t matter, Zach is leaving tomorrow. So that I, a girl he barely knows, can drink Diet Snapple and interview for high-paying jobs and sleep with as many men as I want and buy expensive shoes and say Shit and Fuck whenever I want and watch crappy television and look for fucking camels to rent for a desert-inspired party. Irony is a bitch.
October 24, 2002
It’s a gorgeous October day in the city that I love. The leaves are turning copper and everything smells like an apple orchard. Fall fashion is probably my favorite, and I look fantastic in jewel tones and boots. I’m doing great at my job, all things considering, and I even pulled off that desert party for The Russell family. Molly and Mr. Ross are officially a “shield your eyes” item and she has scaled back on her event commitments, leaving me with plenty to fuck up.
Zach has spent three weeks in basic training somewhere in Germany and soon he will be dropped front and center on the Afghani battlefields. I hate him and I love him, but mostly, I miss him. After my Metro North Meltdown, we spent the entire night in each other’s arms, talking and laughing . . . ignoring the pain. We made love one last time, honest and real, no joking and no silly dialogue. I shaved his head as we talked about nothing and everything, but promising to never say goodbye. Sometimes when I’m deep in my thoughts, I wonder if I imagined him – like a little prince that fell from the sky in search of a friend.
