Leftovers: A Novel (3 page)

Most thought Vivian had skin as thick as an elephant because she never seemed to be fazed by the townsfolk talking about her. Intellectually she wrote it off as small town mentality. But as a coping mechanism she developed the unhealthy ability to put blinders on, and shoved each little jab, snicker and rumor farther and farther down inside of her. In truth, each whisper felt like a tiny dagger stabbing her in the back. And those who didn’t talk behind her back pitied her, which hurt her even more.

Clark Road began at the top of a hill and was famous for the number of eighteenth century colonial homes that were built along it. The first and most splendid mansion was called the Shepherd house. As a small child Vivian was occasionally allowed to visit a young playmate that lived there but only if she were accompanied by Maid 4. More interested in the house than the child she was playing with, Vivian sensed there was something about that property and its land that always felt safe and enveloping to her.

Each magnificent house that led down to the Drake River had on top of it a widow’s walk. Sea captains built them so their wives would have better views of their ships as they returned home from long voyages. The Drake River was large enough and Abbot just 22 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, that vessels could make their way inland along this route. In winter months, if one glanced back up the hill through the leafless trees, it looked like stadium seating as each estate rose higher than the next, stretching to get a better view of the fast and furious river.

Vivian sailed down Clark Road in her own boat till she eventually reached River Road at the bottom. No trains were coming and the rail guards were up so she clunked over the Boston and Maine tracks then crossed the Drake over the wrought iron arch bridge. To her right was the slow, drought plagued river and to the left were her father’s abandoned, four-story high brick mills.

She turned left onto Mill Street and chugged up the steep incline as if she were riding a cog railroad. Once at the top, she passed the glaringly white South Church and coasted into the center of town.

Normally for Vivian, driving by the Abbot Movie House and checking to see if the marquee had changed was like a child eagerly running to the mailbox waiting for a much-anticipated letter. But deep in thought she hadn’t even noticed that they had switched out the sign.

THE COUNTRY GIRL
starring
GRACE KELLY
and
BING CROSBY
 
Coming Next
 
A STAR IS BORN
starring
JUDY GARLAND
and
JAMES MASON

And as she approached the first intersection in town she slowly ran the red light on Main and Essex Streets. Luckily, out of the corner of her eye, Vivian saw Nancy Hodges pushing her daughter Jenna across the street in her baby stroller. She slammed on the brakes and just missed hitting them.

“Jesus Christ, Vivian!” Nancy hollered. “We have the light!”

Vivian rolled down her window. “Nancy, I’m so sorry.”

She watched as Nancy shot her a dirty look and then pushed her daughter safely to the other side. Exhausted, Vivian rested her forehead on the giant steering wheel of the Buick. Within moments the light changed and a car behind her blared its horn. After three tries, she managed to shift the car into first and drove on.

With her car parked out in front of the Abbot Village Dry Cleaners and taking up two parking spaces, one could vaguely see Vivian through the dusty front window. She stood on a box as a seamstress worked on her uniform.

“Turn please, Mrs. Hayes,” she mumbled with a mouthful of pins.

Vivian turned and stared blankly over the woman’s head and at the newspaper her husband was reading at the counter. The front-page headline screamed:

I LOVE LUCY RATED TOP TELEVISION SHOW
Even President Eisenhower does not want to be disturbed while show is on the air.

Robotic-like, Vivian came out of the cleaners weighted down with a box of shirts, several pairs of pants on hangers and one of Paul’s uniforms. She opened the passenger’s door, threw the clothes onto the seat and then checked her watch. She heaved the heavy door shut and then rushed to get into the car.

As Vivian pulled out of the dry cleaners and tore down Main Street heading for the town library, one could see she had caught one of Paul’s pant legs in the door and was dragging it along the road.

•  •  •

“Our next garden tour will raise money for The Home For Little Wanderers,” Gloria Goodson declared with great pride. “Ladies, I think you’ll agree with me that these orphans need all the support we can give them.”

The large circle of women, seated facing each other in the community room of the public library, nodded in agreement.

Gloria looked over at Vivian whose face was buried in a legal pad of notes. “Vivian, can you read the minutes from last month’s meeting?”

The gals all looked over at her as she hung her head low.

Gloria cleared her throat trying to get her attention. “Viv?”

Sitting next to Vivian and hard to miss was Babs Parker. She had her long wavy copper red hair conservatively pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing skintight pedal pusher pants with large red roses printed all over them and a man’s crisply ironed white dress shirt tucked in, with the collar up. If the womenfolk of Abbot viewed Vivian as the social outcast, then they saw Babs as the renegade risk taker.

In the same class at school, Babs and Vivian certainly made for the odd couple. The popular kids shunned them both hence they bonded quickly. Babs was fascinated by Vivian’s eccentricities, Vivian mesmerized by Babs’ sense of humor. Vivian had a boyish figure and on occasion was actually mistaken for a man from behind when wearing pants. Babs was all woman. She had voluptuous hips accentuated by a tiny waist and with a 37-inch chest; she could fill a bra and was proud of it. The big challenge for her was that she had grown into this very womanly figure at the mere age of 11.

Nicknamed Frick and Frack by schoolmates, they were each other’s only friends, hence by default, best friends. But as open and free as Babs was, Vivian still protected herself emotionally behind an impenetrable wall, even with Babs.

Gloria tried once more. “Vivian!”

Still oblivious to the calls, Babs kicked Vivian’s foot with her wedge sandal, which sent the notebook sitting on her lap flying onto the floor.

“Looks like rain!” Vivian blurted out.

Confused, the group of women looked at each other and then towards the sun pouring in through the oversized library fan windows. Embarrassed, Vivian scrambled to pick up her papers.

“A weather girl you’ll never make,” Babs whispered as she knelt down to help her.

“Ladies?” Gloria said standing up. “I think we’re done for the day. And don’t forget the bake sale next Saturday afternoon at West Parish Church.”

Frazzled, Vivian turned to Babs as they all started to leave. “You free for lunch?”

“Sure kid,” she said as they filed out behind a very stunning and younger woman. “Viv, I’ve never seen you so wound up.”

“I’m fine, really. I’m . . . fine.” She gestured to the girl. “A new member?”

“Eleanor Gates,” Babs whispered.

Dressed inappropriately in a strapless cocktail dress and with an extra long mink stole scarf draped over her arm, she worked her way out of the library as if it were a high fashion Paris runway.

Vivian leaned to the side and caught a better glimpse of her face. “Kinda looks like Ava Gardner.”

“Oh please, no one looks like Ava.”

“Is she a horticulturist?”

Babs elbowed Vivian. “You got the first syllable right.”

Vivian’s jaw dropped. “Babs!”

“Delores Gilmore told me the only thing she’s done in a garden is get deflowered.”

Vivian couldn’t help but smile. “Shhh. She looks harmless. But a stole in this weather?”

Eleanor raised her voice so all the other women could hear her as she spoke to another member. “Look what I go out of him,” she purred as she stroked the mink.

“Do I hear wedding bells?”

Eleanor stopped and looked at her. “His wife can keep him, I’ll take the gifts.” They both cackled as Eleanor swung the end of the stole around her neck almost hitting Vivian in the face.

Babs pulled Vivian back. “As harmless as a boa constrictor.”

There was a pause and then they both broke out into laughter as they left the library.

•  •  •

For 1:30 P.M. on a weekday, DeQuatro’s Italian restaurant was unusually busy. Although some patrons were starting to leave, the bar was still packed and a fog of cigarette smoke hovered over the sea of red and white checkered tablecloths.

A waiter stopped at the girl’s table and cleared away their plates. Babs had finished everything on hers; Vivian hadn’t touched a bite. He tried to take Vivian’s almost empty martini glass but she grabbed it away from him.

Babs continued with her dating tales of woe. “So I met this guy and after a couple of dates he invited me back to his charming double-wide trailer for a night cap and he says he’s going to change into something more comfortable.” Babs looked around and lowered her voice. “And when he reappears he’s dressed in nothing but a corselette girdle and stockings.”

With no reaction, Vivian took out a cigarette.

“A girdle!” Babs repeated dramatically.

Vivian lit up, took a long drag and blew the smoke out the corner of her mouth.

Babs shook her head. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”

“So, you bought a girdle.” Vivian downed the last of her drink and signaled the waiter for another.

“Is this a liquid lunch?”

“Just a little thirsty today.” Vivian nervously picked at the candle wax that a dripped down the straw covered Chianti bottle sitting between them on the table.

Babs looked at her watch, grabbed her handbag and then gestured to a movie magazine stuffed into it. “I’m just scratching to see
The Seven Year Itch
, aren’t you Viv?”

“No.”

“The buzz is Marilyn kills.”

“She isn’t relevant. No one takes her seriously.”

“I think every man would take her . . . seriously. And a few women too.”

That actually made Vivian laugh.

“So Viv, will you come to one of my parties?”

“Money’s tight.”

“Forget about buying anything, I need bodies. You might win something.”

“A fly swatter?”

“Or a gravy boat.”

Vivian snickered. “My gravy could sink a boat.”

“Sales are so great, Stew is now working with me part-time.”

Vivian laughed harder. “Your brother the cop is a Tupperware lady?”

“I’m selling, he’s handling the inventory.”

Vivian looked at her watch as the waiter placed her martini on the table. She chugged half of it. “I’m late for a doctor’s appointment.” She downed the rest of the drink and sucked hard on her cigarette.

“Another test?”

Vivian got up and opened her purse. “I really think I am this time.”

Babs stood and placed her hand on Vivian’s. “Put that away. Lunch is on me. And happy anniversary, Viv,” she said as she embraced her.

“Glad someone remembered.” Vivian dug her cigarette out into the ashtray. “Call me madcap but I’m still insanely in love with the man.”

“Insane you are, Madcap. As long as you’re happy.” Babs put money on the table and they both walked towards the exit.

Vivian didn’t respond.

Babs touched her arm. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Deliriously,” Vivian said a little too enthusiastically. “Paul’s just distracted with work and under a lot of pressure at the station.”

“Well, if that’s all it is. I’m gonna touch up my face and rush to a party over on Elm.”

Babs watched as Vivian took a step towards the door and noticed a woman across the room who was smoking, drinking and eight months pregnant. She paused briefly, looking at her enviously.

Babs came up from behind and brought her lips up to Vivian’s ear. “It’ll happen one day.” She kissed her on the cheek. Vivian smiled at her and left the restaurant as Babs headed for the ladies room.

Moments later, Babs re-emerged having applied a fresh layer of Max Factor’s Ruby Red lipstick then headed to the front bar and lounge. She glanced up at a giant advertisement as the bartender came over to her.

Your voice of wisdom says
SMOKE KENT

Babs shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it’s a pack of Kents, please.”

She dug into her purse for money when she heard a woman laugh at the far end of the massive oak bar. A policeman sat very close to her with his back to Babs, hiding the woman’s face.

“Thirty cents, Ma’am,” the bartender said as he put the cigarettes on the counter.

Babs looked back up at the sign. “My voice of wisdom says I’m getting ripped off.” She opened the pack, took out a cigarette and the bartender lit it for her. She took an exaggerated drag and blew it into his face. “And it’s Mademoiselle.” She stepped away.