- •I thought for a moment. “I don’t know. If I did, I don’t remember.”
- •I looked out at the Japanese maple. “Nice weather we’re having.”
- •I covered the receiver with my hand and repeated this to Abby.
- •Chapter Two
- •I leaned against the back door. Jane often had an interesting tale to tell, and, thanks to the volume of her voice, it was easy to eavesdrop on her phone calls. Only the odd word or two escaped me.
- •I looked at my mother, who looked pointedly at Karen’s hair.
- •I couldn’t blame Hunter or his drinking for the accident, though both had an effect on the aftermath. If he’d been sober, I’d still be called Frankie.
- •I let him carry on the rest of the way without comment. It felt like my eye had been whacked with a hammer.
- •I watched Marilyn change the IV bag and punch buttons on the various machines.
- •I closed my eyes and tried to think of something clever to say about Oedipus. Nothing came to mind. I checked the window again.
- •I shrugged. “He came stumbling in around midnight and started bugging me. When I told him to leave me alone, he grabbed me from behind, wrapped his arms around my chest, and started squeezing.”
- •I made a wry face. “Oh? And what about your boyfriend, Brad? I assume he’s the reason you’re getting dressed and putting on makeup.”
- •I watched the shaft of moonlight until I fell asleep, sometime after midnight. I dreamed about field corn, and Abby, and my name.
- •I remained where I was. Unless she got up to pinch me—and she’d been known to—I didn’t bother to correct myself.
- •I looked at my mother. “I wish they made seatbelts for mouths,” I said.
- •I should have gone straight over to Susan’s house.
- •I pulled up a chair and sat down next to Nana.
- •I blew the flame out. “Do you want me to let the dog go? I’d be more than happy to let him bite your hand off.”
- •I said, “Louise called, Abby. She said Belvedere’s doing fine. The Rimadyl is already working wonders.”
- •I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against her ear. “I don’t know what to do,” I said softly, not sure I wanted her to hear me.
- •I held her hand for a moment, savoring the sensation. Then I let it go.
- •I chewed the last of my Portobello. Susan ordered dessert, a crème brûlée.
- •I caught my mother’s eye. It was choke, not laugh.
- •I felt myself tensing up. I took a deep breath, willing my muscles to relax. “The guys you’ve dated. Did you do this with any of them?”
- •I laughed. “I’m not early. You’re late. Please note, however, that I didn’t blow the horn. I didn’t even get out and knock.”
- •I pulled the waistband of my underwear down and considered my reflection in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. My hysterectomy scar was still angry and red.
- •I buckled my belt and walked through the door Abby held open for me.
- •I laughed. “It sneaks up on you. Abby and I were watching vh1 the other night. They had some nostalgia show on, and what it was nostalgic for was the eighties.”
- •I hesitated. “I’m afraid she’ll fall into the wrong hands. I caught Jake holding her under the pond with a stick.”
- •I shook my head emphatically. “No way. She’ll have gravy,” I said to the woman with the hairnet, “and so will I.”
- •I nodded, taking a bite of dill pickle. “Yes. People had extra-marital affairs in 1923, just like they do now.”
- •I waited. Whatever I said, I didn’t want to sound shocked. The problem was that I was shocked.
- •I pushed away the plate of half-eaten roast beef and covered it with my napkin.
- •I opened my mouth to say, “What do you mean,” but I knew what she meant.
- •I laughed. “a kind of Stray Cats meets the Talking Heads sort of thing?”
- •I was beginning to feel the effects of a heavy dinner and a good deal of wine, and even though it meant the risk of falling asleep mid-sentence, I wanted to be more comfortable.
- •I refused to meet him at the Brentwood, suggesting instead that we meet for dinner at a Chinese restaurant called the Hang Chow. I told him that my mother and Nana would be coming with me.
- •I stood up. “Hi, Shirley. Please, have a seat.”
- •I nodded. “College. I want to be a professor.”
- •I propped my feet up on the glass-topped coffee table and picked a book from my mother’s library pile. It was Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown. I’d never heard of it.
- •I nodded happily. “I have my mother’s chariot for the evening. It’s at your disposal.”
- •I stepped into the weird hospital elevator with its facing doors and pressed the button for the fourth floor.
- •I made a whooshing sound.
- •I stood there, dumbstruck. Condensation from the glass in my hand dripped down my arm. Jean finished her drink and poured another.
- •I laughed. “You and me both. Tell me, before you left for Yugoslavia, were you seeing anyone?”
- •I nodded dumbly. Susan stepped back. Had I been blind? There had always been someone. I relied on her, I couldn’t live without her, I loved her.
- •I took the doll from her and put it back on the dresser. Across the hall, the bathroom door opened. My mother stood there, holding a curling iron.
- •I picked up a Life magazine and sat next to Abby on the bed. “Can I offer you some reading material? This is all about Jackie Kennedy.”
- •In the personnel office, Edna spoke to a gray-haired woman in gold-rimmed glasses who, according to her nameplate, was Marcella Rockway.
- •I nodded. Abby bristled, and I saw Edna put a hand on her arm.
- •I stared at her in amazement. Nana could be stubborn, but I’d never known her to stand up to my grandfather so firmly that he backed down.
- •I opened my mouth to say I didn’t care what it cost. Abby put her hand on my leg again. She shook her head slightly.
- •I said, “How can you just sit there like you’re attending a second grade piano recital? You’re polite, but you’re bored. You’re waiting for it all to be over.”
- •I sat up. I didn’t want to look at her, and I didn’t want to cry, so I closed my eyes.
- •I took her by the hands and helped her to her feet. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ve made my decision. It’s you, me, and Rosalyn. I just hope she doesn’t hog the covers.”
- •I glanced at the illuminated dial of my watch. “I don’t care about the speeding ticket. Put your foot down.”
- •I hung up the phone. “I’ll just bet,” I said, putting my credit card back into my wallet. Abby came out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around her body.
- •Vivian laughed. “What’s your favorite color, Poppy?”
I made a wry face. “Oh? And what about your boyfriend, Brad? I assume he’s the reason you’re getting dressed and putting on makeup.”
She sighed and got up, slipping on a pair of black loafers. “Don’t talk to me about Brad. I told you that wasn’t serious. Anyway, I’m done with him after tonight. This is a courtesy date.”
“You’re dumping Brad?” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“Yes, if he’ll shut up long enough to let me get a word in edgewise. He wanted to go to dinner and a movie, but I think just dinner will be enough. I’ll be back by nine at the latest, plenty of time to sit up and gossip.”
“What are we going to gossip about?”
“You. I want to hear all about what’s been happening since the last time I saw you.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I doubt that. Are you still going out with Dave?”
“I was never going out with Dave. He gives me a lift from time to time when I can’t borrow the car.”
“Are you going out with anyone else?”
“No.”
“Interested in anyone?”
“Could we talk about something else?”
She cocked her head to one side and regarded me intently. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Uh huh,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Maybe you’ll think of something while I’m gone. I’d call and cancel, but I think breaking up with people over the telephone is wimpy.”
“People?” I asked. “As in plural? More than one?”
She smiled enigmatically. “That’s something we can talk about.”
“Sounds very mysterious. Are you keeping secrets?”
“Sure, aren’t you?”
Dangerous territory. I stood up and handed her the jean jacket that had been hanging on the back of the door. “I hang out with a lot of guys. Dave is just one of them. It’s nothing. Really.”
“I know.” She gave herself one final check in the mirror, screwing her face up in response to what she saw. She always did this before she went out; she called it her ritual grimace. “So will you stay? You can watch television. We have MTV.”
“I can’t. I have to go to an AA meeting. The great pretender has announced that he’s collecting a white chip tonight. It was the only way he could get out of last night’s debacle without actually having to apologize.”
“AA again? How many white chips does this make?”
“I’ve lost count. Four, I think. Soon he’ll have a full house.”
“Stop making me laugh,” she said. “It isn’t funny. Come over after the meeting. I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked for you.”
Chapter Eight
“What are you thinking about?” Abby asked.
“Oddly enough, I was thinking about my name.”
“I see. Do you need to do that with the light on?”
“No. I’m sorry.” I reached over to the bedside table between us and switched off the lamp. The curtains were open and the moon was full, so the room wasn’t entirely dark. I stared up at the ceiling, allowing my eyes to adjust to the reflected glow.
“I’ll never get used to sleeping alone,” she said.
“You’re not alone. I’m two feet away.”
“You know what I mean. Or,” she added dryly, “maybe you don’t.”
“I sleep alone plenty. Why do you always make out like I’m the lesbian equivalent of Warren Beatty?”
“Envy.”
I waited for a moment, trying to gauge how far I should go. We had only recently begun to discuss the subject of Abby dating again. Her partner, Rosalyn, had been dead for five years. I considered the topic taboo and commented only if she brought it up first. Since the lights were out, I decided to be brave.
“You could do something about that, Abby. The world is full of women who would jump at the chance to have you as a bed-mate.”
“Right,” she said. “As evidenced by the fact that I’m in a hotel room with you and we’re sleeping in separate beds like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.”
“Come on over. One half of my spacious queen-sized bed is at your disposal.”
“No thanks, Warren. I’d rather not end up on Dolores’s hit list. Do you mind if I close the curtains? I’ll never get to sleep with that full moon.”
“The moon’s always full in the South, didn’t you know? That’s why we’re all so crazy. Lunatics.”
“I was just thinking,” she said. “It does seem to get closer here than it does in Portland, and yet Oregon’s not that much farther north. Why were you thinking about your name?”
“I have no idea. Random association of thoughts in a tired mind.”
She yawned. “Too much beer and not enough dinner. Goodnight, Poppy.”
“Goodnight.”
Despite my exhaustion, or maybe because of it, I was awake for a long time after. When the sound of Abby’s breathing grew heavy and regular, I climbed out of bed and walked across to the window. I opened the curtains an inch or two, just enough to let a small shaft of moonlight shine across the room and onto the foot of my bed. I loved moonlight. As a child, I used to sneak out of my bed and meet Jack Leinweber in the cornfield behind our subdivision. We’d chase one another along the rows of stalks, or bend the stalks over to make huts and fortresses. The farmer must have hated us. We used his field to make elaborate crop structures.