Read 29 Online

Authors: Adena Halpern

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29 (17 page)

BOOK: 29
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Lucy howled with laughter. Her laughter made me laugh.

That’s when she snapped the picture.

“I hate it!” she said, taking a look. “Let’s take another one.”

“No,” I said. “I love it! Can you make a copy of it? Does the phone come with a printer?”

“No, it doesn’t.” She smiled at my naivete.

“Just when you thought all the technology was past you.”

And with that, we went into the living room to finish the rest of our champagne.

“Where do you think they are now?” Lucy asked.

“Who knows?” I shrugged. “We’ll take Frida’s keys and Barbara’s bag down to Ken. He’ll return them when they come back here.”

“You think they’ll come back?”

“If I know your mother, she’ll want to move in with me after this.”

“Boy, I’m not looking forward to the time when we see them again.”

“You and me both.”

This made us laugh. Again.

I looked down at my watch.

“It’s almost seven,” I told Lucy.

“We better leave. We don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, they’ll wait. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that it’s good to keep them waiting.”

“Is that what you used to do with Grandpop?” she asked.

“The poor man wasted half his life waiting for me. He was happy in the end, though.”

“Do you still miss Grandpop?” she asked me.

I took a deep breath.

“All the time,” I told her.

“What do you miss the most?” she asked me.

I thought about it. “I miss moments like this. I miss the look on his face when he’d see me come downstairs all dolled up.”

“If I ever get married, I hope I have the relationship that you and Grandpop had.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked her, feeling a little shocked.

“He really loved you. I always loved the way he talked about you when you weren’t around.”

“What did he say?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Whenever we were out together, like if we were having lunch, he’d say, ‘I’m going to order a dessert to bring home to your grandmother.’ Or other little things, like when I’d go to change the radio station in the car and he’d say, ‘Don’t ruin the buttons. They’re the stations that Grandmom likes.’ And when he always said how pretty he thought you were: ‘Grandmom is the prettiest lady in the world.’”

“Well, I tried, you know, for him.” I said, not knowing what else to say. You must understand—Lucy would have never understood if I told her how I really felt about Howard.

“I don’t think you ever had to try for him,” she said. “I think he meant how beautiful you were on the inside, too.”

“No, he never felt that way,” I said.

“You think he never noticed how wonderful you were? Don’t tell me you went through your whole life without noticing how in love with you he was.”

Thoughts of Howard started pouring through my head. Not big things, either. Just little things like Lucy was mentioning, like the way Howard got up and made me fresh-squeezed orange juice every morning, and put the coffee on. He never made a bed or changed a diaper, but he always made sure I took my vitamins in the morning. He was always worried about that. He always opened the car door for me, always. He was always worried that I wouldn’t be warm enough in what I was wearing (I never was), and he always had a shawl of mine in the back of his car. At night when we went to bed, Howard always got my sleep mask for me.
I could never sleep without my mask. But no, I wouldn’t think of those things tonight. I wouldn’t think of the good things. I would think of the things I really thought, of Howard as he really was, how I really knew him. I wasn’t about to start feeling guilty now. After all, when Howard was having his affairs, did he feel guilty?

“Darn you,” I scolded her.

“What?” She laughed.

I started to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, putting her arm around me.

“Nothing in life is perfect,” I said, brushing her off. “Except for tonight. Tonight is going to be perfect.”

“Well, let’s hope.” She smiled.

“Lesson number four thousand and one. This one is very important, so really take note.”

“I’m listening,” she replied.

“Never give up on wanting to learn new things.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Whatever it is, never get set in your ways. Always try new things, even if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, I won’t forget to learn new things.”

“Even if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a deal.”

I looked for my bag and headed over to the Paris mirror.

“Okay, how do we look?”

“We’re gorgeous,” Lucy said, taking my hand and standing in front of the mirror.

I patted my hair down a little.

“Are you ready for the night of your life?” she asked me.

“I grabbed the cash out of my lingerie drawer, right?” I said, looking in my purse.

“Yes, I saw you do it,” she said as I saw the cash. “Now, are you ready?” she asked again.

“Bring it on!” I cheered.

“Where did you learn that phrase?” she asked.

“I’m old, I’m not oblivious,” I told her.

Lucy opened the door and we walked out.

“Wait,” I said, taking her arm.

“What?”

“What’s the name of the boy I’m going out with tonight?”

“Zach,” she reminded me.

“Zachary.” I smiled.

more walking

But you were only a block and a half from here. How could you get lost?” Officer Bea Fairholm laughed, dumbfounded.

“I never come to this neighborhood,” Frida said and shrugged.

“It’s four blocks away from where you live!” Bea laughed again.

“Look, Bea, we know we were stupid. It’s been a crazy day, what with my mother going missing, and then both Frida and me without keys or money or phones or our purses.”

“We’re really up a tree here,” Frida whined. “Do you think we could just fill out the robbery report and then maybe a police car could take us back to my building? I’ll have my doorman call a locksmith.”

Bea looked at Barbara. Barbara had been pathetic in high school, and she was even more pathetic today.

“You say that the man who stole your jewelry ran south?” she asked.

“Yes,” Barbara answered.

“Okay,” Bea said, “let’s fill out the papers and then we’ll have a
squad car drive you up.”

“Thank you,” Frida said and sighed. “And do you think I could get some coffee?”

“Oh, darn, the coffee urn is on the fritz,” Bea answered. “It happened right after you left.”

Frida took a seat in Bea’s desk chair. She could have fallen asleep right there.

“Thank you for being so kind,” Barbara told Bea.

“I think you have a pretty good idea that I wouldn’t be so kind if it wasn’t my job.”

Barbara looked at her, unable to say anything. “I do,” she finally uttered, softly.

“Like I said before, I am sorry to hear about your mother. If she’s still missing tomorrow, come back and we’ll begin a search.”

“Yes. Thanks, Bea,” Barbara said.

By the time Barbara finished the robbery paperwork, Frida was snoring. Bea called over a couple of police officers and instructed them to take Barbara and Frida wherever they needed to go.

“Aunt Frida,” Barbara said as she shook her awake.

“I can’t move another muscle,” Frida responded in full voice, her eyes still closed.

“We’re going home now,” Barbara told her, and Frida grudgingly opened her eyes. The police officers lifted Frida under her arms and she groaned.

“You two really must have put yourselves out today,” Bea said to Barbara.

“She walked a total of nine blocks,” Barbara answered.

“Hopefully your mom will have come back and you won’t have to come in tomorrow. That’s usually the way these things go,” Bea told her.

“Let’s just hope,” Barbara answered. “And Bea?” she added.

“Yes?”

Barbara didn’t know how to say it. How does a person even begin to apologize for something they did more than thirty years ago?

“I hope life has been good to you,” Barbara told her. “I really do.”

“It has, thank you.” Bea smiled, a hint of surprise in her eyes.

The police officers continued to practically carry Frida as they left the station and headed to a squad car. It had started to rain. Barbara put her hand over her head, but Frida couldn’t have cared less at that point and let the rain fall on her face.

“Where to, ladies?” one policeman asked as they climbed into the car.

“Home,” Frida muttered.

“Just a couple of blocks from here, on Rittenhouse Square,” Barbara told them. Then, “No, wait!” Barbara shouted, startling Frida. “Take us to Twelfth and Walnut!”

“For what?” Frida opened her eyes.

“Johnny! Johnny will know where Lucy is. It’s our last chance.”

“Oh, no, I’m done. Drop me off at Rittenhouse Square,” Frida instructed them.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up on Mom!” Barbara said to her.

“This is going to be the death of me!” Frida answered. “I can’t go another minute.”

“After all this?” Barbara countered. “Have you forgotten why
we’re out here? You’re going!”

Frida had no energy left to fight. “Okay,” she said. “For Ellie. I’ll go to Johnny’s restaurant, and then I’m going home.”

“Twelfth and Walnut,” Barbara instructed again, as if she were in a taxi rather than a police car.

It was pouring by the time they got to the restaurant. In the time it took Frida and Barbara to get from the squad car to the front door, they were drenched.

The restaurant was pretty crowded when the two sopping women entered. Frida immediately eyed the pasta on a nearby table.

“I’d give them five dollars for one spoonful,” Frida said to no one in particular.

Just then, Johnny noticed the duo.

“Mrs. Sustamorn,” Johnny said, visibly surprised by her bedraggled appearance. “I’m just about to leave to meet Lucy and her cousin.”

Frida snapped awake. Barbara’s eyes widened.

“We’re coming with you!” Barbara told him.

“Um, are you sure you don’t just want to call her?” he asked.

“No,” Barbara answered, seething. “We need to find Lucy’s grandmother. We’ve been unable to speak to Lucy all day.”

“And that cousin is no cousin,” Frida interjected.

“Well, okay,” Johnny answered, unable to make sense of a word they were saying. If it was going to be easier to clear this up by bringing them along and then going on with their night, so be it. “I’m just meeting her a couple of blocks from here for a drink, and then we’re going to a restaurant.”

“More walking,” Frida said and sighed.

the jig is up

The bar was dark and packed and the music, which Frida figured must have been punk rock (it was Maroon 5), was blaring. A Phillies baseball game was playing on the television in the back of the bar. Frida, who always prided herself on having an excellent sense of smell, immediately recognized the aroma of beer flowing from the tap. It made her think of mussels steaming in a bowl of spicy garlic and tomato gravy. The only time Frida ever had a glass of beer was when she ate mussels. She wondered if this place served mussels. As she followed Barbara through the bar, she envisioned a long, crusty piece of Italian bread that she could dip into the spicy garlic and tomato gravy.

“Here’s a table for us,” Johnny shouted to Barbara and Frida as they both took a seat. “Can I get you ladies something?”

“Do they serve mussels?” Frida asked him.

“Of all things, she wants mussels,” Barbara said, giving her a strange look. “Thank you, Johnny, but we’re not staying long. We’ve got dinner waiting for us at home.” Barbara told him.

“Sure, okay. I’ll just get something for myself, then.” He
smiled and walked over to the bar.

Barbara turned in Frida’s direction. “If that boy gets us anything, he’ll think he’s part of the family. I’ll be paying for that bottle of beer for the rest of my life.”

“What?” Frida shouted over the music. “I think I saw someone eating a sandwich when we first walked in.”

“I-told-him-we’ll-eat-at-home.”
Barbara enunciated, looking at her watch.

Both Barbara and Frida sat with their arms crossed, hoping that Johnny would come back soon.

“Excuse me, is someone using this chair?” asked a woman in a white tank top as she started to pull it away.

“Yes!” Barbara pulled the chair back angrily. “All of these chairs are taken.”

“You don’t have to scream at me, I was just asking,” the young woman answered.

“What?” Frida shouted to the woman, having missed Barbara’s comment amid the din of the music.

The young woman looked Frida up and down and laughed at her as she walked away.

Frida had once seen an episode of
Dr. Phil
in which he said that if you’re in a situation you don’t want to be in, you should just take your mind out of it. Frida pictured the ice-cream shop she and Ellie went to as teenagers. Frida would always order a burger and fries accompanied by a chocolate milkshake, because then, of course, cholesterol and calorie counts were unknown concerns. The boy who ended up being Frida’s husband, Sol, had an after-school job as the busboy. She knew he fancied her when he slipped her a cherry Coke one day. A smile crossed Frida’s
weary face as she remembered dancing a jitterbug during Sol’s break. Then Frida felt something cold drench her already wet hair. She leapt up and turned around.

“Sorry,” a young man in a ripped T-shirt called out as he scooted behind her with two glasses of beer in his hands. Frida felt the back of her head. Her hair was sticky and matted.

“Watch where you’re going!” Barbara shouted at the boy.

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” he shouted back as his tablemates snickered.

“Mrs. Sustamorn, this is my friend Zach,” Johnny announced, coming back to the table.

“You’re Lucy’s mom?” Zach asked.

“I am. And this is our friend Frida,” Barbara introduced her, but Frida was still trying to comb the beer out of her hair with her fingers.

“They’re waiting for Lucy,” Johnny told Zach as they sat down.

“We’re meeting your niece here, too. Nice girl,” Zach said as he took a sip of his beer.

“Oh, she’s not . . .” Frida started. “Oh, forget it.” She sighed and went back to work on her hair.

BOOK: 29
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