by Sarah Dreher
She had to get up and walk around. Her joints were showing a tendency to freeze when she sat too long. She hoped it would pass. Maybe it was advancing age and she'd have to join a gym. If they had such things in Shelburne Falls. If they didn't have Court TV, they probably didn't have a gym.
"The real victims in this are the Demeter women," she said. “With the Cottage closed, they've had to cancel the show for the first time in five years. They were counting on the free rehearsal space. And they're pretty shaken up by the whole experience. Most of them trusted Sherry, and now they can't trust their own judgment. That can be a shattering experience."
Marylou looked at her. "You didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Edith's running a Group Processing Experience for them. It's making her crazy. You know how she hates those touchy-feely things."
Stoner laughed. "There, you see? We all have our private hells. Think of it as her karma for making you eat junk food."
"I do," said Marylou. "Daily, and with unabashed pleasure."
She wondered how Marylou was going to get along, moving so far from her mother. Despite the mock complaints, and an occasional genuine spat, they were good friends as well as mother and daughter. Marylou insisted she'd be all right, and in the long run she would. But Stoner suspected it would be harder on her than she thought.
As a matter of fact, she was sorry to be leaving Edith Kesselbaum herself. It wasn't as if she depended on her any more, but it was nice to have her around, just in case. And she was getting to know Edith more and more every year as a person, not her former therapist. She liked her.
They'd see her, of course. Edith was bound to miss her daughter, too. There would be plenty of trips out Route 2 in the white Lincoln convertible with the trunk full of patient files, she was sure. But it would be different. So much was going to be different.
"They've really cancelled the show?" Marylou asked.
Stoner nodded. "They can't afford rehearsal space."
"And you haven't come up with the obvious solution to that? I'm disappointed in you."
"I don't know what you..." Dawn broke. "Here. They could rehearse here."
"Naturally." Marylou seemed terribly pleased with herself. "We've paid the rent through September. It's large enough. And if they put a few signs in the window they'll draw an audience for the production, just from people trying to figure out what the hell it's all about."
"Marylou, you are brilliant!"
"I've always thought so," Marylou said modestly.
"I'll put a call in to Rebecca tonight."
"And tell them we definitely plan to come see the show, no matter where we are, whether we understand it or not."
Stoner grinned. "I love you."
"Yeah, yeah." Marylou actually blushed. "If you're so crazy about me, why aren't you inviting me to lunch?"
"I invite you to lunch. I invite you to dinner. I invite you to a week of lunches."
"No go," said Marylou. "Our budget can't handle it."
The door opened. A young man with black hair and bright blue eyes and a two-day growth of beard looked in. "We're loaded. Just have to take those last two items."
Marylou relinquished her seat on "file things."
"Need you to sign this," he said, and held out a clip board.
It contained at least three pages of inventory, contracts, clauses, agreements, and insurance exemptions. Marylou insisted on reading every line, while Stoner and the boy smiled politely at one another. She doubted that he had been one of Marylou's dinner dates. Too young.
Marylou signed the papers with a flourish. The boy picked up the box in one hand, the metal office chair in the other. Marylou tucked the clip board under his arm, and he left.
"Did you get a load of the tight little buns on that one?" Marylou asked.
"No, Marylou, I wasn't looking at his tight little buns."
She leaned against the wall and gazed around the stripped-bare room. She was going to miss the Demeter women. Rebecca with her turned-up collar and quiet strength. Barb, who did what she had to do, competently and without complaint. The other-worldliness of Boneset. Rita with her huge rages and her even bigger heart and her endless war on radiation. Even Marcy, eternally self-centered, who never went out of her way to do a favor, but never went out of her way to harm, either. Divi Divi, knowing what she wanted from life and going about getting it with a minimum of fuss. And Roseann, who packed a lot of wisdom and grace into her unprivileged and uneducated soul.
There'd been promises of visits all around, of course. And Gwen had offered to check on the possibility of someday bringing Not Quite Titled to Northampton, which was only 45 minutes down the road and had recently been declared "Lesbianville, U.S.A." by The National Enquirer. Surely the "home of 10,000 kissing, cuddling lesbians" would be fertile ground for Demeter Ascending.
But, even if they kept their promises, over time the visits would diminish, and their lives would move on in other directions.
It was sad, but it was the way of things.
Marylou handed her her coat. "If you're going to take me to lunch," she said, "we'd better do it before it's time for dinner."
She let the coat hang from one hand. The travel agency was gutted, all clues to its previous identity packed in a truck to be stored until they called for them. It was just a bare room now, with no memories, no hopes. For more than a decade they'd sat in this room, waiting for clients, trying to make the rent, working late into the night during cruise reservation season, locking up early during the dry spells. Solving problems, causing problems, harassing the air lines, tracking down luggage. The two of them, an unimaginable combination that worked.
Stoner looked over at her friend, and felt a surge of deep affection for her. There was something about old friends...
Outside, the afternoon sun and dry air made sharp edges on the buildings, and angled shadows on the street. It was still summer, but fall was on the way.
Their last fall in Boston.
"It's the end of an era," Stoner said.
Marylou slipped an arm through hers. "And the beginning of another. Let's eat."
