Back to Life (20 page)

“Banish the thought from your head! Right now!” I stop walking and wag my finger at her, as if I’m Bette. “I never thought of myself as beautiful. I always thought I was high maintenance with decent results from lots of cash spent. Besides, after I married, I didn’t flirt.”

“You did. I’m sorry to tell you that you did. Ron never minded—he knew you were there to stay—but you
did
flirt when you were married.”

“Well…so what? It was innocent.” But I’ll admit, it doesn’t sound so innocent now coming out of her mouth. I run through the men in my life I may have flirted with while married to Ron, and I’m ashamed to admit how many names pop into my head. Gosh, I hate those kinds of women. And here I am one. “Does everyone else think that? Was I the kind of woman people kept their husbands from?”

She looks away.

“No, seriously. I wasn’t that girl!” I give her this pleading look. “No one wants to be that girl. Why are you telling me this now?” First, Haley has the nerve to tell me I’m holed up in my condo like the old women with cats, and now, she claims I’m a shameless flirt. I know I came on this cruise for a little soul-searching, but perhaps I got more than I’d hoped for in her answers.

“You’re asking why mothers don’t like you, and I’m telling you. You don’t look like you’ll be faithful to these men to other women.
The Trophy Wives Club knows better, but you asked, and I’m your friend, so I’m telling you. It’s hard for me to believe that Ronnie is anything more than your latest flirtation.”

I feel my head fly back and forth as I shake my head.
It’s not like that,
I want to tell her, but what can I say to prove my point, really? I suppose I am a flirt. It simply never meant anything to me, but now—now that she thinks Ronnie is just another conquest, that Jake is another notch on my lipstick case—now it’s my reputation at stake.

“I can’t believe this is coming from you, Haley. You, who fell in love with your husband’s prenup attorney. How can you of all people question me?”

She holds up her palms, but soon has to use them to brace herself against the wall. “All I’m saying is there has to be more than possible romance in your life for me to believe you’re ready. You have to go after something, and it should be something tangible. Even if it’s the wrong career choice, you’ll realize it before you get there—maybe it should just be something other than a man.”

What else is there?
I think to myself before understanding how on-target Haley is. It hurts me to hear her say the words, and I can see in her muddled expression, it pains her to say it. But she’s right. Just like I was right about the empty frosting cans in her room. They were symbolic of her empty life. “That’s why I came on this cruise though. To regroup and fix myself so I knew that I was ready.”

“What would happen if you truly trusted Christ to be your husband?” She says this with all the soft passion of a television evangelist, and it sparks something ugly within me.

“You’re going to preach at me? You, who is getting married in two months? You, who I rescued out of a ratty motel and told you all about Jesus? You’re going to tell me about faith?”

“Yes, I am. Remember me, who had no value outside of Jay
Cutler, until he shoved me out the door and I had to figure it out? It’s time. Life goes on.”

But I’m still lost in the audacity of the situation. “You holed up in a ratty motel for eons and ate chocolate frosting until we came and got you, and you’re going to preach at me.”

“I never said I had all the answers. Only that I figured out my problem. I’m trying to help you move out of this rut. You have nothing to do every day. Doesn’t that bother you? Worse yet, doesn’t it get you into a lot of trouble?”

“I’m sad, Haley.” I feel the sting of tears behind my nose. “I am. I’m sad, and I miss Ron, and I feel there’s no one who will ever take his place, and I’ll die alone and no one will care. No one but you girls will even come to my funeral.”

“You are not going to die alone, Lindsay. It’s time to think about a daily goal. That’s all.”

“I’m making a chart,” I say to spark some encouragement.

“What do you want, Lindsay? I mean, really want? You can’t find that answer on a chart.”

“With colored markers,” I add.

“Even with colored markers, Linds.”

“I want someone to hold me like Ronnie did and make me feel safe. I want a home base.”

“It can’t be a person. Not a human. As you’ve seen, they could leave you.”

“I just want to go back to what was comfortable. Is that so wrong?”

This conversation has my head swimming. I want what I can never have. I want to go backward, and here’s the thing about life, it forces you to go forward. Every time you try to take a step back, some new wind swirls in and forces you ahead. It’s like a big game of Chutes and Ladders. Instinctively, I want to go have fun and slide
down to the place where I started, but God keeps pushing up those ladders, like an overwrought personal trainer.

“I wasn’t flirting with Norm. He came up to me,” I say to maintain a sense of dignity.

“You were Kate to his Leonardo. There is not a court of law in this country where you could prove your case.”

“So what are you saying? If I don’t get a job, you’re going to disown me?”

“The Trophy Wives have all tried to tell you gently, but it’s time to get more direct. You know when you came and rescued me from the motel. This is your floating motel. Ron is gone. I’m so sorry. He was a good man, and he loved you deeply, but you can’t live your life in the past. You can’t live your life flirting with every man to make yourself feel loved. It’s time to get real.”

I gaze at Haley in wonder. She went from being a dingbat trophy wife, and I’m sorry, but even us trophy wives have our caste system. She was the type who never questioned, who never rocked the boat until she was replaced. I worked hard to keep my mind sharp, to keep our relationship balanced.

“Who am I kidding? I’m a mess. Ron was the only person who ever accepted me as is, and the idea that Ronnie would do the same thing is nothing more than my own wishful thinking and not wanting to live in reality.”

“That’s not true, Lindsay. We all accept you. Bette, Lily, Helena in her offbeat way, and Penny and me. We accept and love you the way you are. We want you to move forward for you, but if you stay stuck in your pathetic, flirting status quo, you’re still welcome.”

I nod.

My eyes blink. “That’s it. I’m angry.” I look at Haley. “I’m angry at God because He took from me what I loved. The one man on earth who loved me, and I don’t think I care to please Him anymore. Ron
was my rock. My salvation. That’s not right, Haley. What if He took Ron from me because I didn’t love them in the right order?”

“God doesn’t work like that, Lindsay.”

“I know you’re right, but that’s why I am here. I don’t care anymore. To trust in the unseen. That verse. Faith is being assured of what you cannot see. I don’t think I can do that anymore.”

“Lindsay, did you have something to drink?”

“No. I never did really put my trust in Jesus. I put my trust in Ron. And he died. What if it’s my fault?”

“Lindsay, you know that you don’t have the power to say who lives and dies, so what are you talking about?”

“God wants me to live without the safety net, and I need to see it beneath me.”

“He’s not asking you to do it alone, he’s just saying not with Ron any longer. We’re here for you.” She rubs my shoulder, and I give her a hug.

“Thanks for coming, Haley. I know this is terrible timing for you.”

“On the contrary. My mother can’t reach me, and she can’t nag me about the wedding. It’s perfect timing.”

We finally walk into the buffet, and I’m glad to get away from this painful conversation. Realizing your life is a mess and actually doing something about it are two entirely different realms. I’m going to deal with the one and allow myself to process the idea that I’m a flirt by nature. That’s ugly.

Norm.

Jake.

Ronnie.

Only one face flashes through my mind, and it’s definitely the most inconvenient of the three. Oh yes, I definitely need to learn to live alone and find my purpose. Clearly, it isn’t flirting.

I look back at Haley and her happy glow while she fills her
plate with vegetables. Clearly, she’s given up chocolate frosting until the wedding. I, on the other hand, am single with no prospects. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing necessarily, except I’ve just been told I’m a flirt and mothers don’t like me, and my intrigue with Ronnie was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. And I haven’t even started a flow chart. I am so
not
the king of the world.

Jane

S
he’s dead.”

“She can’t be. Are you quite certain?”

“She is.” I sniffle. “She’s dead.” I stare into the phone wondering what Bette means, am I certain? I didn’t take her pulse or anything! “The coroner came and got her a few minutes ago. They wrapped her in a sheet, slid her in a rubberized bag, zipped it up and took her away, like she was nothing more than yesterday’s trash. It’s been so traumatic for everyone in the complex. All of the women are out on the patio weeping. It’s horribly depressing and solemn.” I try to shake it off, but death here in L.A. isn’t like Mexico. With all the plastic surgery and lack of aging, it almost has you believing the residents are going to skirt death.

“Stay there, I’ll be over to get you soon. What about the cat?”

“The neighbors are going to care for them. There’s three of them,
and they’re all going to take turns. Lindsay’s going to be so upset when she gets home.” I pace the room thinking about it. Lindsay plays tough, but I see her check on her neighbors all the time. The cats congregate at the doorstep in some sort of emergency meeting, unaware of what’s going on, but fully capable of understanding their life will not go on as before. “At least when you’re dead, you’re not left to wonder what might have been.”

“Jane, what a horrible thing to say.”

“It was a horrible thing to say, but it’s like
Dia de los Muertos
,
La Catrina
has come to call.”

“Jane, you’re not making any sense.”

“In Mexico, we don’t fear death, well, except for the
angelitos
, the little children. We celebrate it on the day of the dead, believe the
animas
, the souls, come back to nourish themselves for the afterlife. We feed them, as well as ourselves. There is no feeling of celebration here. It’s dark. Somber and frightening.” I feel a chill run up my spine and look down to see Kuku at my feet.

“Is there anything I can do for the ladies there? They’re so frail, most of them. I’ll stop by the bakery on my way and give them some nourishment. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“They’re pulling together.” I slide the curtain open and peer out—just like they usually do to Lindsay. “They’re planning the cat schedule and contacting the next of kin. Apparently, she’s outlived most everyone, but someone thinks she has a cousin or a sister somewhere in town. They’re doing fine, very practical in the matter.”

Truly, they’re weeping, and they haven’t stopped since someone brought her dinner and found her on her porch. The scream is what woke me from my own black nap.

“Death is such an odd experience. It brings about reactions you never expect and hits people in ways you never imagined. I
think perhaps we celebrate in Mexico rather than face the painful realities.”

“You’re talking about Ron, I presume.”

How does she know these things?
I didn’t think I was, but when she says it, I realize his death is an experience that I never took the time to grieve. I simply went into business mode and did what needed to be done—especially since he’d been dead for a good year before I got word. I never stopped and thought about the man, and regardless of what my endpoint with him was, there’s an extremely complicated middle.

“Maybe I am. Death brings with it so many questions about life.” Davis, for instance. How many times I could have simply told him that I loved him. He sat across the room from me reading his paper and he’d smile up at me.
I love you.
How hard would it have been for me to say those three little words? Or I could have told him how I appreciated his always being there while I gallivanted all over the country, leading tours and teaching art in some forsaken land. I’d follow the path of my art someplace, and come home to a warm fire on a cool desert night. Or a glass of wine set out with a fresh salmon feast to celebrate my arrival. I took it all for granted, what he did for me every day. What is wrong with me?

“Someone else’s death always reminds us of the mess we have made of our own lives.” I tell Bette.

“It always reminds me that I’m glad this earth isn’t the end.”

I’m not sure how to process that. I mean, I’m all for spiritual fulfillment and believing in your truth, but how does one really have that kind of assurance? I mean, she doesn’t know where Cherry’s soul is anymore than I do. I know that her body looked pretty lifeless, and it’s hard to believe there’s more that went somewhere else.

“Don’t feel like you need to run over here every time my life goes
awry, Bette. I’ve leaned on you enough, and you need to spend some time with that man of yours. You don’t want him running off.”

“He’s in Minneapolis on business, so you needn’t worry about him. The Trophy Wives who aren’t on the cruise are going out for dinner. You’ll come with us and get away from the macabre scene. It will do your heart good.”

“Why on earth do you call yourselves the Trophy Wives? It’s so demeaning. Especially since most of you aren’t married any longer.” Her silence lets me know I did indeed say that aloud. Finally, Bette speaks again.

“There’s a Bible verse about running for the eternal goal. ‘I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.’ We’re looking to eternity—the eternal prize—rather than dwelling on the mess we’ve made of things here.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, sorry I asked. I didn’t know I’d get a sermon.

I have a headache. “Thanks for the invitation, but I think I should be here. I’ll let you know tomorrow how the women are doing. Do you think I should call Lindsay? Or let her enjoy the cruise?”

“She’ll find out soon enough when she gets home. Let’s give her the rest she needs. But there’s no sense in you being there without Lindsay home. We’re going out for a little fun, and we’d love to have you, especially if you plan to leave soon.”

“I don’t want to intrude again.” And really, I don’t want any more Scripture verses thrown at me. I’ve done everything wrong according to Bette. I live in mortal sin, and I didn’t even do that right. “I think I’ll just take a nap on the couch and wake up late and paint.”

“Nonsense. There’s always room for one more with us. Lily worked today, even though it’s Saturday, so she’s ready to be out, and Penny gets a night away from her twins, so she’ll be turning out the lights at the restaurant. There’s life in us yet, wouldn’t you
say? There’s nothing you can do there at the condo now, so I’ll be arriving soon.”

I feel guilty for all the people who have come to my rescue over the years. I’ve spent my entire life thinking of myself as independent, when in fact, that was never true. I used people probably to the point that I wrung them out like a sponge by simply not considering them. All the niceties and trinkets given to me, while I went about my business and acted like the innocent bystander about returning invitations. My patio was always open. My courtyard free to anyone who dared to venture onto it, but when did I ever make a point of inviting people to share a meal with me? That was all Davis, and he allowed me to take credit for having the
casa fiesta
, the party house that was all him, every time.

“Bette”—I swallow and force the words before I lose my nerve—“I need you to do me a favor.”

“You name it.”

“I need you to call Mexico for me. There’s a man who isn’t taking my calls, and I
need
to talk to him.” I don’t even try to keep the desperation out of my voice. Chances are, he will know it’s from me regardless with the area and country code. “I need to apologize before it’s too late.” Honestly, I think if Davis turned me down flat, I would understand, but I don’t want him to go like Ron did—without him realizing I did understand what he did for me. I did appreciate his efforts. “Maybe if I call from your cell number and ask for him—”

“Certainly. I’m right around the corner. In the meantime, you relax. Maybe paint a little to calm your nerves.” Bette clicks her cell phone shut, and I continue to walk back and forth, with Kuku at my feet.

I feel tight and anxious. Seriously? What broke him? I gave Davis his freedom. Don’t most men want that? To be left alone to change the channel as many times as they like, and eat deep-fried
things without nagging? I never nagged him. I allowed him to be all the man he wanted to be. I didn’t babysit him or treat him with disrespect. We had an agreement. We were both free to go at any time. We were together because we wanted to be. Not because of some worthless piece of paper or empty promise. We were there by choice.

And he left by choice
.

I fall back onto the sofa and repeat that to myself. Davis left by choice. He wanted more from me than I was willing to give. Just like Ron wanted from me, back in the day. Who am I to keep him against his will?

The doorbell rings, and I hesitate before answering. The somber mood of the outdoors is more than I can bear presently. I want to push the darkness back more than they can understand.

Life is bitter. Filled with rejection and remorse, and no one probably knows it better than these old women with their lonely existences and misery as they wait for their lives to end.

I open the door to face more rejection. It’s Mitch. My heart begins to thump and the dizziness returns. I grab at my heart and let out a weathered sigh. “What is it, Mitch?”

“I wanted to thank you. Thank you for raising a son any father would be proud of. You did good, Janey.”

I look around him, wondering what he is really here for, but he follows my eyes and then our gazes rest upon each other again. “He was good all by himself, Mitch. I simply fed him.”

“The best we had to offer, huh?” He smiles, shaking his head in disbelief. I know how he feels. Ronnie will do that to a parent—fill them with false pride.

“He’s certainly proof of good coming from horrible circumstances.”

“I’ve seen a lot of proof of God in my years, Janey, but he’s the
best one of them. So I came to say thank you. We made our mistakes, but not everything turns out badly.” He thrust out his hand toward me.

“You’re welcome.” I try to keep the question mark off the end of my comment, but it’s hard for me to believe with all Mitch has been through, he doesn’t have more animosity toward me, the system, his brother. There’s so much more to say, and yet neither one of us seems to need to say another word.

“You have a good life, you hear?”

“You too, Mitch.”

Before he leaves, he turns back, with his finger in the air. Underneath the lines that cloud his face, the dark ruddy complexion that has overshadowed the pale tone of his youth and light green eyes…underneath, I see the man I loved as a young woman. He
was
a good man, and searching his eyes now, I can see my son in them, and it’s there I find my compassion.

He turns and brings his hand to my cheek, and I close my eyes against his touch. That touch takes me back thirty-odd years when I was a young girl filled with romantic dreams and pride in having the captain of the football team as my personal chauffeur. I’ve avoided the truth to protect myself, but I need to hear it now.

“Tell me what happened that night, Mitch. I want to hear it from you.”

“Ron ran, Janey. I didn’t. He always was the smart one. I was the jock who thought I could handle anything. I guess we found out for certain who had brains and who had brawn.”

“I know who had compassion,” I tell him.

“Maybe I should have run, but I’ve thought about this for thirty-six years, and I know I’d make the same decision today that I did then. I wanted to save my little brother. He had such a hard life with my father.”

“You all did what you could, Mitch. Maybe it’s time you had some compassion for yourself.”

His eyes look up slowly and his gaze meets mine. He simply nods.

“Tommy was mentally ill.” I touch him on the shoulder.

“I believe so. Yes.”

“He needed help.”

“Yes.”

“Saving him wasn’t possible. He was committing suicide.”

His eyes flash. After all these years, he still doesn’t believe it.

“He didn’t mean to shoot the cop. I think he wanted the cop to shoot him.”

Mitch’s face twists in a knotted expression, and years of anguish are drawn on his forehead. He tries to hold back, but his emotion bursts out of him in angry, tormented tears. I reach for him, and he falls into my arms. I pat his back and feel his body shaking. It can’t be possible he never thought of it. I told him years ago that Tommy was sick. Abuse, drug use, his brothers rescuing him from every trial imaginable while his parents ignored them. It was apparent to everyone on the block what Tommy would become.

“I was so angry at you, Mitch. You sacrificed me. You sacrificed Ronnie for your brother.”

He pulls away, but he leans back into my shoulder nodding. “You’re right. You were right.”

“I married your brother to get back at you.” This is the first time I’ve ever admitted the treason I committed and it stuns me…but not Mitch.

“I know. He would have been good to you. He always did love you from afar.”

The fact that I wasn’t an innocent victim in all this resonates with me—like it did a few minutes ago as I realized Davis didn’t
abandon me without reason. I am not the pillar of righteousness I pretended to be. Not then, and not now.

“You were willing to give me up for your brothers. Doesn’t that say anything to you?”

“No. You don’t understand, Janey. A man’s brothers. They’re his life.”

“And his son isn’t?” I hear the screech in my voice, and it’s foreign to me. This isn’t what I want to say to Mitch. I want him to admit he threw me to the lions, but he’s not ever going to do that. How else could he justify all those years in jail unless he’d been there for his brother?

“It’s over. Right? It’s over.”

I nod.

Mitch grabs my hand. “You live a beautiful life, Jane, you hear me?”

“I will. You too. You take care of yourself, Mitch.”

He nods as he saunters off past all the chaos in the hall. “It’s just you and me, Kuku. From here on out.”

“Not quite.”

I look up and cannot believe my eyes.