Leftovers: A Novel (10 page)

At that exact same moment, Babs was crossing the train tracks in her car with Stew, a trapped listener in the passenger’s seat. The look on his face indicated clearly that she had been on another roll about another date.

“Actually he was a blind date, Stew, set up by a friend. Well, I thought she was a friend. This guy was so obnoxiously full of himself. You know, a real bragomanic.”

Babs laughed hysterically as Vivian, out on the railing, had a split-second of clarity.
What in God’s name am I doing?

She swung her legs back towards the bridge to safety just as Babs and Stew passed her. Simultaneously, both their heads spun back to look at her.

“Is that Vivian?” Stew hollered out as Babs slammed on her brakes and laid on the horn.

Startled, Vivian looked up, lost her balance and fell backwards over the bridge. Babs and Stew looked at each other and then screamed.

Stew, with his right foot bandaged and using one crutch, hopped out of the car and hobbled towards the railing as Babs ran around and joined him. They both looked out at the river in horror.

“Vivian!” Stew cried with both his hands flying through the air, expressing his distress. “Vivian!”

Babs was speechless as Stew continued to holler her name. He then burst into tears as Babs grabbed him for support.

“Vivian!”

There was a moment of silence.

Very faintly, they both heard from beneath them, “Stewie?”

Babs and Stew looked directly down. About two feet below the bridge was a workman’s catwalk and Vivian was lying on it, flat on her back.

Without moving a muscle, Vivian smiled up at them. “Hey.”

Stew wiped the tears from his eyes. “Can you move?”

“I don’t think anything is broken.”

Babs and Stew hung over the railing as Vivian reached up for their hands and they pulled her back onto the bridge.

Babs shook her head. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Resting?”

Stew blew his nose. “Damn. Next time can you rest about 100 feet closer to the ground?”

Babs was surprised at how little Vivian was wearing and how disheveled she looked. She gave her a tight hug and then pulled away.

“Gosh Viv,” Babs exclaimed, “you’re bone thin. When’s the last time you ate something?”

“What year is it?”

Stew looked at her, very concerned. “That isn’t funny.”

Babs slipped her arm through hers. “We have to fatten you up.” She looked to either side of the bridge. “Did you walk here? Where’s your car?”

“I had to sell it,” Vivian replied, flatly.

Stew pointed to the suitcase. “Is this yours?”

Vivian nodded as Babs walked her to the car and Stew picked up the suitcase. Surprised at how heavy it was, he grunted and almost dropped it as he stumbled with his crutch.

Babs turned around. “Stew, let me carry it.” She took the suitcase from him as he limped back to the car.

Vivian pointed to his foot. “What happened?”

Babs shook her head and gave a look that implied don’t go there.

Stew got back into the passenger’s seat as Vivian slid into the back, squeezing in amongst a plethora of boxes.

Babs glanced at her watch, threw Vivian’s suitcase into the trunk and hopped back into the driver’s seat. “We’re late for a party.”

“I’m not in the mood to celebrate,” Vivian said sarcastically.

Stew pointed to the boxes. “Tupperware. It’s work.”

“Are you still hawking that stuff?”

Babs turned around and gave Vivian a stern look. “If I take you home, will you promise to pick up the phone when I call and let me in when I visit?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I have no home. The bank took it.”

Babs and Stew looked at each other. There was a momentary pause and then they both spoke in unison. “You’re coming with us.”

Babs started the engine, turned up the heat and drove across the bridge. Punchy from the whole ordeal and woozy from the warmth of the car, Vivian felt as though she were drunk.

Stew turned around and like a schoolboy, gazed at her. “Gee you’re looking swell, Viv.”

“No I’m not. I look awful. And what happened to you? Shoot yourself in the foot?”

Babs quickly looked over at Stew who spun back around and glared out of his window. She then caught Vivian’s eye in the rear view mirror and mouthed the words, “He shot himself in the foot!”

Embarrassed, Vivian dropped her head.

Babs drove off to Norwich as the three of them sat in silence and by the time they had pulled up in front of the hostess’s house, Vivian had fallen asleep. She stirred as Babs and Stew proceeded to pull boxes out of the backseat.

“I’ll just wait in the car.”

“You’ll freeze to death,” Babs exclaimed.

“Who’s throwing this party?”

Stew corrected her. “We’re party dating with Olive Long.”

Vivian was certain she was loosing her mind. “Who? What?”

Babs grabbed another box. “Her name is Olive Long.”

“And we don’t throw Tupperware parties,” Stew added. “It’s called dating.”

“Well, that’s right up Babs’ alley.” Vivian looked down at her soiled raincoat. “But I’m not dressed for a part . . . a date.”

“There will be food,” Stew winked at her.

Vivian perked up and started helping with the boxes.

•  •  •

In the living room of Olive Long’s Tudor style house, sat 12 of her closest friends, all smartly dressed and laughing hysterically. Leading them through yet another game, Babs stood within the circle of women wearing a fitted wool jacket, a pencil skirt and pumps. The conservative look was a stretch for her, but she played the part sincerely and looked like she belonged.

Stew had set up a display of Tupperware items on the coffee table, which included stackable containers, pitchers, cups and bowls, all in an assortment of pastel colors. And at the far end of the room was a sideboard that displayed even more Tupperware. Some were full of hot casseroles, others of pretzels, peanuts, potato chips, miniature cakes and pies. There were also pitchers containing juices as well as hot coffee and tea.

And seated on a chair against the opposite far wall was Vivian. Having taken off her raincoat she looked completely out of place in her torn uniform. She had also, not so discreetly, removed her wet shoes and placed them on top of a sizzling steam radiator.

Babs spun around looking at each of the women who were holding their breaths. “And the winner is . . . Dorothy!”

She jumped to her feet screaming as Babs handed her a small bag. Dorothy excitedly pulled out a salt and peppershaker, showing them off to everyone as they cheered and applauded.

Superficially, anyone looking in from the outside would have thought this was just a bunch of batty women getting all excited about some idiotic games where they could win kitchen gadgets. And yes, they were enjoying themselves. But something more important was happening here than just friends bonding together and having a party. What appeared to be insignificant plastic items were not only going to make their lives easier and more economical, selling these attractive products created the potential for each of these women, some, for the first time in their lives, to make their own money. Possibly a lot of money. And with money comes freedom, freedom on many different levels.

Right on cue, Stew balanced three large containers in one hand as he limped over to Babs. She winked at him acknowledging how great the party was going and placed them down onto the coffee table. The girls were all flirting with Stew and looking at him so sympathetically that Babs wondered if after his foot had healed, maybe he should keep up with the crutch and bum leg act.

Babs then looked at everyone very seriously as she placed her hands strategically on her hips. “Now if there’s anyone here who doesn’t have a kitchen, raise your hand now.”

As all of the women laughed at the absurdity of the question, Vivian let out a quiet moan from the back of the room and raised her hand. Everyone turned around and stared at her.

Nervous, Babs quickly pulled them back into the next game. “Ah . . . ladies . . . remember a Tupperware kitchen is well organized, efficient and neat. Let’s play another game, shall we?” Babs gestured to the sideboard. “I hope this one doesn’t ruin your appetites because we have delicious and fresh, hot and cold foods plus thirst quenching beverages just waiting for you to enjoy, after the games are over.”

Vivian turned and looked at the stocked buffet.

Babs signaled all the girls to lean in closer to her as she whispered, “This one is called chubby bunnies.”

The women chortled as Vivian quietly got up and walked over to the food. She eyed a stack of tiny finger sandwiches like she had never had a meal before in her life.

Babs opened up a sea foam green container of marshmallows. “This game is so much fun and we have another Tupperware prize to give away.” She walked around the group of gals offering some to each. “Everybody, take one and when I say go, I want each of you to pop it into your mouth and let me hear you all say loud and clear, chubby bunny. Everybody ready? Go!”

Each of the ladies slipped a marshmallow into their mouths and all shouted out, “Chubby bunny!”

“Good girls!” Babs nodded to Stew who walked around with another container full of the spongy candy. “What we’re going to do is keep adding them and whoever stuffs the most into their mouths and can still say chubby bunny, wins!”

The women screamed with delight as they stuffed another marshmallow in.

Babs hollered, “Go!”

“Chubby bunny.”

Each of them stuffed another one in.

“Go!”

“Chubby bunny!”

Babs pointed to three women who couldn’t enunciate it, and they were out of the game. The remaining players popped another one in.

“Go!”

“Chubby bunny,” most of them slurred.

“No choking allowed,” Babs warned them.

She pointed to four more to drop out and they played another round. “Go!” And Babs had to eliminate three more. “Only two of you left! Now gently, see if you can add one more marshmallow.”

The women cheered the two on and once they had stuffed their cheeks like chipmunks, she pointed to the woman on her left. “Say chubby bunny.”

She had to strain to make her tongue work. “Dwabba babba.”

The women shrieked with laughter.

Babs pointed to her opponent on her right. “Say chubby bunny.”

She took a dramatic pause and then said quite clearly, “Chubby bunny.”

The room erupted into laughter as Babs touched her shoulder, crowning her the winner. Stew handed her a container to spit the marshmallows out into as Babs gave her a gift bag.

She pulled out the prize, looked at in awe and then waved it proudly up in the air as if it were an Olympic gold medal. “It’s a butter dish!”

Babs led the girls in a round of applause. “And it’s Tupperware that has kept these marshmallows delicious for . . . years!”

The women oohed and aahed.

Babs made a funny face as she picked up a container and its lid. “Seriously folks. Everything stays fresh because of the exclusive and patented Tupperware burping seal.” She placed the lid onto the container. “Locks air, moisture and insects out, food flavors and values in! And watch.” She lifted the corner of the lid allowing the air to escape with a whoosh. “Just burp it!”

Suddenly, a man-sized belch echoed throughout the room. All of the women plus Babs and Stew looked over at Vivian. She put her hand up to her mouth very ladylike and smiled. The entire stack of sandwiches was gone.

•  •  •

The date was a huge success and after Babs surprised Olive with a stylish Volupté compact courtesy of Tupperware for hosting the party, she, Stew and Vivian packed up all the demo pieces and headed back to her house.

As they reached the bottom of Mill Road and crossed over the wrought iron bridge, they took a sharp left just past the railroad tracks onto River Road. Along the north side of the street and facing the Drake River with no visual obstructions, was a row of classic Greek revival, mid-eighteenth century, mill worker houses with white clapboards and black shutters. And tucked right smack dab in the middle of these historic and exquisite homes was Babs’, glaringly out of place, bungalow.

Built in 1910 and with its clapboards painted a dark brown and shutters a forest green, this pseudo craftsman style house with a giant wrap-around porch looked more suited for the lumber camps up north in the hinterlands than squatting on the edge of the Drake River in the bustling village of Abbot.

Tragically, Babs’ and Stew’s parents were killed in a car accident while Babs was a senior in high school, and upon graduation she started renting the two-bedroom house. Although it wasn’t the prettiest ornament on the tree, it suited her needs especially since eight months earlier Stew appeared on her doorstep and wasn’t showing any signs of leaving.

Once they had unloaded the Tupperware out of the car, Babs showed Vivian to the spare bedroom. “I was worried sick, Viv,” Babs said as she pulled down the shade to the window. “Why didn’t you pick up the phone? Why didn’t you call me?”