Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (10 page)

Saralee Rosenberg

ment was going to work out great. Everyone was in good spirits, the weather forecast was perfect, and now she finally had a minute’s peace to speculate on her little victory with Downtown Greetings.

When was the last time she’d received any validation for having writing talent? Or any talent? Could she be so lucky as to have finally discovered her purpose in life? If only she hadn’t mentioned her excitement to Artie over dinner that night, as it moved him a little too profoundly.

Maybe it was the emotion of looking around the table and seeing his entire family assembled for the first time ever. Maybe it was the relief that he was about to have a week’s reprieve from his troubles. Maybe it was that when he looked at Mindy, he was overjoyed that she was still his best friend, still the woman who loved him and laughed with him. Or maybe it was just the bottle of wine he had polished off with Ira.

He stood up to make a toast to his wonderful family and beautiful wife, who was about to embark on an exciting career opportunity, which she so deserved.

“Sit down,” Mindy whispered. “I didn’t want to tell anyone yet.”

“Why not? They’ll all be so proud of you.”

“May I remind you this is
your
family?”

“What kind of career opportunity?” Stan barked. Cue temples. “She’s already got a job.”

“No, no, I know Dad,” Artie said. “This is something different. Something extra.”

“Well, I’m not changing her schedule so she can go work somewhere else. It’s bad enough I gotta rearrange things when it’s Hebrew School and soccer. I’m running a doctor’s office, not a day-care center.” Right side vibrating.

“Dad. Relax. Mindy is still working for you. This is more like a contest she entered.”

Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

83

“A contest?” Ira butt in. “Mindy, what the hell? Now you’re tryin’ to win a job?”

“Here it comes.” Mindy gulped the last of her wine.

“It’s not what you think,” Artie replied.

“Yeah. Who enters a contest for a job if they already have one?” Stan asked.

“Guys, listen.” Artie tapped his glass with a spoon. “It’s a writing contest for Downtown Greetings. Think of it as like
American
Idol
for birthdays and holidays.”

“I didn’t know Mindy could sing,” Rhoda said. “Stan, did you know she could sing?”

“Mom. It’s not a singing contest, it’s a writing contest. And she’s going to Chicago because she made it through the first round of competition.”

“I never buy Downtown Greetings,” Dana sniffed. “They don’t use recycled paper.”

“You win, Mindy,” Ira groaned. “You found something my wife doesn’t like buying.”

“When’s she going to Chicago?” Stan’s temples did the cha-cha. “If she takes extra vacation days, the girls in the office will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Mindy, you didn’t say anything about this.” Her mom leaned over. “If you need me to watch the kids, you gotta let me know

’cause my mahjong weekend is coming up.”

“Happy?” Mindy whispered to Artie. “I know I am.”

“I think it’s cool,” Aaron muttered.

“What?” Artie cupped his ear.

“I’m just sayin’. She’s funny, so her cards would be a hoot.”

“Thank you, Aaron.” Mindy patted his hand.

“Yeah. Don’t listen to them.” He stuffed pie in his mouth.

“Anyone wanna go throw beer off the deck? Give the fish a good time?”

“I do! I do!” Ricky jumped up.

84

Saralee Rosenberg

“See?” Artie was beaming. “My sons understand!”

“Oh, I understand, too,” Stan grumbled. “I understand that once again I’m expected to be Mr. Nice Guy.”

“You’re a doctor, Papa.” Ricky clapped. “Dr. Nice Guy.”

“That’s me all right!” He poured more wine. “Dr. Nice Guy!”

Mindy didn’t want to be accused of being negative, but clearly the right destination with the wrong people never works, particularly if those people are staying in the same stateroom. Try as Rhoda did to accommodate everyone’s wishes (hers!), the room assignments went like this: she and Stan would have the Royal Family suite (“Because it’s our special anniversary and we’re paying”). Ira and Brandon were bunking with Artie and Aaron.

Helene and Aunt Toby got Stacie and Jamie, which left Mindy and Ricky in a cabin with Dana and Abigail, who, on the first morning, threw Mindy’s new blush brush down the toilet and cried when mean Aunt Mindy yelled at her.

“Why don’t you guys watch TV while we get changed?”

Mindy tried to be sweeter.

“She doesn’t watch at home,” Dana sniffed. “Why would she want to watch here?”

“She doesn’t watch television? Like ever?”

“There was that one time Plácido Domingo was on
Sesame
Street
. . . Abby, honey, why don’t you sing Aunt Mindy that song you learned about photosynthesis?”

But Aunt Mindy couldn’t offer “Abby honey” her undivided attention, as she was distracted by Ricky, who had wrapped a plastic snake around his neck and was shadowboxing on their bed while making chimpanzee noises. Premonition was the term that came to mind.

Good thing she’d brought the walkie-talkies. She’d set the alarm early every morning, get coffee, find a quiet spot to detox from Dana, and have Artie locate her position. They’d just have Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

85

to be a little more creative finding ways to meet for sex. To their surprise, Aaron became their ally. When Artie signaled, he’d round up the kids and promise to sneak them into the casinos.

Mindy’s only hope was that he didn’t expect them to return the favor so he could get it on with Melissa from Manchester.

How did one have the “talk” with a seventeen-year-old who could probably give them a few good pointers?

Mindy sneaked into Artie’s stateroom, turned on by the prospect of having a scandalous little midday birthday interlude, though it was with her own husband, so call off the paparazzi. She quickly changed into her favorite black negligee, saddened that it had fit much better before her long-term affair with Ben and Jerry.

Although as her friend Rochelle liked to say, “Once a man’s between your thighs, he’s not askin’ what the scale says.”

But when Artie was a no-show, anticipation was replaced with anger. If he was hanging out at the Cigar Bar with Ira, no gift from a ship boutique would make up for it. This was followed by fear. What if the heart attack was real this time and he was lying on the bottom of the pool?

Naturally her first instinct was to call his cell, but one thing that hit you hard after the ship sailed was that you might as well toss it overboard, ’cause service was spotty to nonexistent and the kids had the walkie-talkies.

All she could do was pace inside the tiny cabin, watch CNN

in Spanish, break into the minibar, and ponder if Dana and Ira were also finding ways to have sex, though she doubted from Dana’s stiff I-don’t-find-you-funny reactions to everything Ira said that she much cared. “Sorry, Ira. I have water Pilates at ten, my aromatherapy massage at eleven . . .”

By the time Artie turned the key, Mindy had changed back into a big T-shirt and shorts. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but I turned down six good offers.”

86

Saralee Rosenberg

Artie, his face red and perspired from the heat, sat on the edge of the bed, staring out.

“Hello?” she waved her hand in front of his face. “Please don’t tell me you got the cabin numbers mixed up and had sex with someone else, ’cause no offense, but you don’t have that much to go around anymore.”

“She died,” he said.

“What? Who? Who died?”

“Davida.” He waved a piece of paper in the air.

“Oh my God. She died? What does that mean?”

“What do you mean what does that mean? It means she crapped out. She’s gone to meet her maker.”

“No, I get that part. What does that mean for Aaron . . .

for us ? ”

“What kind of question is that? I just found out like two minutes ago. I have no idea what it means. I’m in shock.”

“Wait. Are you upset because your first wife died or your second wife is thinking we’ve got only ten minutes left for sex?”

“That’s not even funny, Mindy. God! What is wrong with you? A forty-four-year-old woman who was bright and artistic and made beautiful patchwork quilts for half our neighborhood in Queens got sucked into a drug world and basically took her own life. . . . I think you would have liked her. . . .”

“Oh. Then I’m sorry for your loss. . . . I didn’t know you had feelings for her anymore.”

“I don’t. . . . I’m just . . . I don’t know what to do. Do I tell Aaron?

Do I not tell him? Do I get him on a flight out tomorrow, when we get to Cozumel? Do I go with him?”

“I have no idea. Wait. How did you even find out?”

“I was down at the bursar’s, buying tickets for the snorkel trip tomorrow, and the woman sees my name and says, sir, I think you just got a telegram. And I’m thinking, they still have those?

Turns out it was from my ex-brother-in-law, Wayne, and it said, Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

87

“Urgent! Call me. Sad news.” And then I’m like, damn, those ship-to-shore calls are so expensive. Should I wait until tomorrow and try to use one of those overseas phone cards?”

“But you had a feeling?”

“Well yeah, sure. I mean we knew she was in rehab, although people don’t usually die there. . . . Anyway, I called and he told me she was supposed to be getting out in a few days . . . but they found her in her room this morning. They think it was a heart attack.”

“Ohmygod!”

“Yeah. And get this. He also told me that Davida kicked Aaron out of the house a few months ago. Said she couldn’t handle him anymore because he was too wild.”

“Great.”

“No, no. But that wasn’t the real story. Wayne said she was the one who was too wild. She was totally strung out all the time and then she got arrested for auto theft or something. Anyway, Aaron ended up living with him and he said Davida wouldn’t let him even come back to the house to visit. . . . Can you believe that?

My kid was orphaned and homeless?”

“That poor thing!”

“Yeah, but Wayne said it wasn’t his fault. He’s a great kid.”

“And what about Wayne? Is he a good guy?”

“When he’s sober? A sweetheart. ’Course to him a balanced meal is a Bud in each hand.”

“Lovely! What else did he tell you?”

“He said he was glad when Aaron moved in because he had been working for a roofing contractor and fell on the job and was still out on disability.”

“Not a good combination. Alcohol and altitude.”

“Right. Anyway, since Aaron had his driver’s license, he could take care of the grocery shopping, the running around . . . he even worked as a part-time custodian so he could help with the 88

Saralee Rosenberg

expenses. Is this kid amazing or what?” Artie started to cry. “But he’s been through so much.”

“This is such a shock. When’s the funeral?”

“Not going to be one. She’s being cremated. Wayne said maybe they’d do a memorial thing when Aaron got back, but that most of her friends were either dead or too strung out on crystal meth to care.”

“Jeez, we’re sheltered.”

“Yeah,” he sniffed.

“Well, but at least if there’s no wake, he can wait until we get back to go home.”

“Okay, but when do I tell him?”

“Now. Today. You have to tell him today.”

“Really?”

“Yes! If you lie about this like you did the f light home and your little heart attack, then strike three and you’re out. He’ll never trust you again.”

“Fine, but do I have to tell him everything, ’cause there may be more?”

“More?” Mindy gulped. “His mother is dead. What else could go wrong?”

“Oh nothing much. Happy birthday. You might be a grandmother!”

“A what? She raced out to the balcony. “ Please tell me you’re joking!”

“Don’t you dare jump!” He followed her. “I am not joining AARP alone.”

“What does that mean? Mindy hyperventilated over the railing.

“What do you think it means? It means sonny boy shtupped a girl and lucky us, there’s gonna be a little baby in Oregon calling us grandma and grandpa.”

“No, no. You maybe, not me. I may be getting old but I’m too Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

89

young for this. I still get my legs waxed. Ohmygod!!! What did Wayne say exactly? Does he know for sure?”

“No. All he said was after Aaron left, he got a call from this girl in a band he’d been hanging out with, she was hysterical sobbing, said she was pregnant and needed to talk to him right away.

What does that sound like to you?”

“Like an ABC after-school special.” She paced. “So he has no idea?”

“None.” Artie stared at the waves.

“Hold on . . . hold on. The day before we left, when he wanted go home, didn’t Aaron say something about his girl needing him?”

“Yeah, he did. Shit!”

“This is crazy, Artie! What are we supposed to do?”

“Hell if I know. I’m still in shock that I get to have sex, let alone my son.”

“It’s unbelievable. One mother checks out, another checks in.”

“That’s good. Ambiguous is good. He won’t have a clue what we’re talking about. ”

“Would you stop joking?” she yelled. “This is serious! You have to be straight with him. Get it all out there so he can start to deal.”

“I can’t do that. Then he’ll always associate me with being the bearer of the worst news of his life and hate me even more.

Maybe I’ll get my dad to talk to him. When my grandfather died, he took me and Ira to a Mets game and told us during the seventh-inning stretch.”

“Oh that’s good. ‘Son, there’s been a death in the family. Have a hot dog.’ And what if Aaron doesn’t think his girlfriend being pregnant is bad news? What if he’s thrilled and wants to run home and marry her?”

“You’re crazy. No seventeen-year-old wants to be saddled with a wife and kid.”

90

Saralee Rosenberg

“Apparently you’ve never seen the ABC after-school specials. Some boys love the idea. It makes them feel manly and grown up.”

“Whatever. Obviously I have no experience with any of this.