Joy Argento - Carrie and Hope (2 page)

A tall man with a thick, dark mustache and thin, greasy, black hair watched the two women walk into the room. Tufts of curly black hair peeked out of the top of his tight-fitting faded old Yankee tee shirt. His eyes traveled up the length of each woman in turn, pausing on their breasts before briefly looking at their faces. Carrie was sure she saw him wink at her. She turned to her companion to see if she noticed his strange and rude behavior. She hadn’t. Her attention was on the plates of sugar cookies on the table.

A well dress middle-aged man entered the room through a second doorway in the back. There was a cheerful air about him despite the lack of a smile on his face. He carried a stack of paper napkins and a box of Kleenex with him. He placed the napkins on the table near the coffee maker and held the box of tissues in his hand as he turned and surveyed the people in the room before speaking.
 

“Hello, can I get everyone’s attention please?
Everyone.”
The room grew quiet as the group turned towards the speaker.
“All right.
I think everyone is here now,” he said. “If you would each like to take a chair we can get started.”

The people slowly made their way to the circle of chairs. Carrie sat down next to the woman she had met at the door. She ran her hands over her jeans as if she were wiping off sweaty palms. It was a nervous habit that she had picked up despite the fact that her hands were dry. She looked around at the small group seated there. The doubts crept back in. She wasn’t sure this was where she belonged. The feeling that she was betraying her grandmother overwhelmed her. Her eyes filled with tears and she fought the urge to cry.

The group leader spoke again. “I would like to welcome everyone here tonight.” He passed the box of Kleenex around the circle. Carrie pulled out several of the thin sheets and wiped her eyes. “I think we’ll get started here by going around the group and introducing ourselves and saying a little bit about why we are here. You can say
what ever
you are comfortable with. We’ll get into more in-depth discussions the next time we meet. But for now, let’s just get to know each other a little. I’ll start.” All eyes were on the man as he told the group his name was Eric. He decided to start this group after finding help with his own grieving process after losing his wife only four years into their marriage in a car accident, thirteen years ago. This was his fourth time leading a support group like this one. When he finished his story he asked the young woman on his left to introduce
herself
.

Each person in turn took the floor and told their stories of sadness and the loss that brought them here. Each story was filled with emotion and pain, until the man with the thick mustache and greasy hair took the floor.

“Hello, everyone.”
He smiled showing a mouth full of nicotine-yellowed teeth. “My name is Mike and my wife died four months ago and I have decided that it is time to get over my grief and get out into the world again. I’m tired of being alone when I have so much to offer. So, I figured I got to get over this grief thing if I am going to find the next Miss Right.”

Is this guy for real?
Carrie thought. She looked around the circle as he continued to talk. A few people looked a little shocked by what he had said but most looked like they were too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice. He went on and on about putting himself back into circulation. He sounded more like a bad ad for a dating service than someone that was missing his spouse. After several minutes of his rambling, the group leader cut him off.

“Thanks, Mike,” Eric said. “I think we’ll stop here and take a fifteen-minute break. We’ll finish up the introductions after that. Please feel free to help yourself to the snacks and coffee on the table.” He stood up and headed directly to the coffee.

Carrie leaned forward in her chair and rested her chin on her hands with her elbows on her thighs. The threat of tears had stopped, but she was still feeling out of place. She closed her eyes and took a deep
breathe
as the rest of the group, including the friendly stranger from the hallway, got up from their chairs and headed towards the food. The
sound of a chair scraping the floor next to her, made her open her eyes and look
at the person who sat down in the chair next to her.

She looked into Mike’s beady eyes. His hair looked even greasier up close. “Hey,” Mike said. Carrie saw the wink again. “I just wanted you to know that I noticed you and I’m a good listener if you want to talk about your grief or yourself or anything. I’m really good at umm,
listening
.
If you get my drift.”

Carrie couldn’t believe her ears. “No, thank you.” She shook her head.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m just offering my services to help in your time of need.” he flashed
her a
grin that made her stomach lurch.

“Services?” she grimaced, sorry that she asked as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.”

Carrie wasn’t rude by nature but didn’t see a way out of this but to be blunt. “Well, I’m not interested.”

“Oh come on, baby, we could be good together. I just know it.” Carrie couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy.

“Really.
Not.
Interested.”
Carrie said a little more harshly than she intended. Mike got up without another word. Carrie watched him strut over to the woman she had talked to outside the door. She watched the animated conversation. The woman took a step backwards away from him but he moved forward each time she stepped back.
Unbelievable
.
Carrie thought.
I should go over and rescue her.

 
Carrie forced herself to her feet and headed for Mike and the friendly brown-eyed woman. “Excuse me, Mike. I need to speak to
ummm
…” Carrie realized she didn’t know the woman’s name.
“…
er
, um, this beautiful lady here.”
 
Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.

 
“Will you excuse me?” the beautiful lady said to Mike as Carrie pulled her away by the elbow. She turned to Carrie. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t seem to get that guy away from me.” Her smile spread across her face. “I owe you one.”

 
“I was actually thinking of leaving. I am not sure this is the group for me,” Carrie confessed. She shrugged her shoulders.

 
“How about I buy you a cup of coffee somewhere? I don’t feel much like staying either. My name is Hope by the way.” She put out her hand. “Hope Garret.”

 
“Carrie Martin,” Carrie said, shaking Hope’s extended hand. “I would love to go get coffee, or maybe a drink? I feel like I could use a gin and tonic about now. I think there is a quiet little bar that we could walk to just down the street.
If that’s okay with you.”

 
“Sure, that would be great. Should we say something to Eric, or just leave?”
 
Carrie looked at Eric. He was engrossed in a conversation with two women.

 
“I say we sneak out,” Carrie answered in a low husky whisper.

 
“Then let’s do it,” Hope said. She grabbed Carrie’s hand and headed towards the door. She dropped her hand as soon as the door closed behind them. Both women burst out laughing.

 
“Oh my God.
That was intense.
Except for that Mike guy.
He was just gross. You didn’t have to leave with me. But, I’m glad you did,” Carrie said, tucking a stray lock of her blond hair behind her ear. A blush crept into her face giving her normally pale skin a pink glow.

 
“No, I was glad to leave. I really didn’t want to be here in the first place. Now let’s go find that bar.”

 
The early evening air was unusually warm for mid-September. The weather in Western New York could vary greatly in late summer but the past week had been unusually sunny and warm. The women made small talk as they walked the two blocks under the bright streetlights to the small bar on the corner of Monroe Avenue and Club Street.

 
Carrie held the heavy, wooden door open for Hope. She blinked several times as they entered to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside. A few booths with thick green cushions, lined the wall to the right and small tables with chairs were set around the center of the room. Shelves of alcohol, surrounding a mirror sporting the name Budweiser in the familiar logo, sat on the back wall behind the long bar. The place was empty except for two older men playing pool at the table in the corner and two younger men sitting at the bar drinking. A barstool separated them. Soft music drifted through the air, cut occasionally by the sound of pool balls hitting together.

 
Carrie led the way to the stools at the far side of the bar, away from the two young men. “How’s this?” she asked Hope.

 
“This works,” Hope answered. She set her small purse on the bar as she slid her body easily onto the tall barstool.

 
Carrie sat on the stool next to the wall, swiveled it towards Hope and said, “I hope you don’t mind that I suggested a drink instead of coffee.”

 
“No, not at all.
I was just glad to get out of there.
Although I did feel a little like a teenager skipping out of class.”
Hope smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth.

 
Carrie laughed. “I know what you mean. I felt a little weird leaving like that, too. But going there was a bad idea.”

 
The tall bartender appeared in front of the two women. His long bleached blond hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. His quick smile revealed a wide gap between his front teeth. He wiped his hands on a small towel tucked into his waistband and asked, “What can I get for you ladies?”

 
Hope looked at Carrie and said, “You wanted a gin and tonic, right?”

 
Carrie smiled and nodded, surprised that Hope remembered the drink she had mentioned earlier.

 
Hope turned back to the bartender. “One gin and tonic and I’ll have
a
umm…I’ll have a screwdriver, please.” Hope looked momentarily flustered before she added in a low voice. “Hold the vodka.”

 
The bartender smiled and leaned closer to her. “One gin and tonic and one virgin screwdriver, coming right up,” he said in an equally low voice.

 
Hope tilted her head slightly and looked over at Carrie, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t really drink,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against it. I just never developed a taste for alcohol.”

 
“I am so sorry. We should have gone for coffee like you suggested,” Carrie said.

 
“No, no. You get your drink and I am perfectly happy with orange juice. Not a problem at all.” She opened her purse, took out a bill and set it in front of her. “So,” she said turning once again to Carrie. “If you don’t mind my asking, how come you think going to that meeting was a bad idea? I don’t mean to be so blunt, but who was it that died?”

“Hmm, well, I guess that’s the problem. No one died. Yet,” Carrie struggled to explain.

“I’m not sure I understand. Doesn’t one usually go to a grief support group because someone died?” Hope’s words were soft and kind.

“My grandmother is actually still alive, but she has been in a coma for almost three months. A vegetative state, the doctors call it.
 
I go and visit her a lot and talk to her, but she can’t talk back. I’m not even sure if she can hear what I am saying to her. I just miss her so much that I thought it might be a good idea to go to a grief support group.”

Carrie thought for a moment that Hope was going to touch her shoulder, but placed her hand on the bar instead.
 
Her eyes never left Carrie as she asked, “So why did you decide that it wasn’t a good idea after all? Why did you want to leave?”

“Because I felt like I was writing my grandmother off as dead already. I felt like I was being disloyal to her. Does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Hope said to Carrie. The bartender set the drinks down in front of the woman and picked up the money in front of Hope. “Keep the change,” she told him.

Carrie lifted the drink to her lips and took a long swig. The liquid felt cool in her throat as it went down, but warmed when it hit her belly.
 

“So, I assume you’re close to your grandmother?” Hope asked.

“Really close. She lived next door and I was over there all time when I was a kid. She lived in this big old farmhouse. It had like five bedrooms in it and only one teeny, tiny bathroom. But it had this huge kitchen that always smelled so good.” Carrie watched the ice dance as she swirled the drink in her hand. “My grandmother always paid attention to me, even when I was just a kid. She made me feel special.” Carrie took another swallow of her drink. “She is the best baker and the two of us were always making something delicious. She taught me what comfort food was. I can’t eat a piece of pie or cake without thinking of
my her
.”

Carrie paused before going on. “My grandmother may still be alive but she isn’t there anymore. I miss her a lot, but I guess I’m not ready to grieve for her. I just couldn’t face telling a room full of strangers that I missed my grandmother who was…is…still alive.
Especially when those people were all talking about someone who had died.”
Carrie looked into Hope’s amber brown eyes.
“Oh my God.
Here I am going on and on and you were there, too. You must have lost someone that you love. I am so sorry.”

“Oh, no, no.
Don’t be sorry. Yes I was there, but only because I promised my sister Marcy that I would go. She thinks I’m in denial.” Hope drank a big gulp of her orange juice.

“Denial is the first stage of grief isn’t it? Does your sister think that you are stuck in the denial stage?” Carrie asked.