Getting to Happy (38 page)

Oh-oh. Savannah’s here. Romeo and Juliet look nervous. I hear her knocking hard. She never rings the doorbell. “I’m coming! Hold your horses!” I dash down the stairs, feeling a little light-headed, so I cool my jets.

Before I open the door I press my cheek against it: “Don’t say a word about how bad I look, because I haven’t been in any mood for dressing up, okay?”

“Okay! Open the door, please, Robin! I have to go to the bathroom, badly!”

She dashes past me in very tight denim capris. “Savannah, have you lost a few pounds?”

“You must be delusional,” she says from behind the door.

“I think you have. Your ass looks smaller.”

“It’s not. Believe me. It’s called Lycra.”

“So, how was your date?”

“It’s a week from Sunday.”

“Are you psyched?”

She comes out, stands in the hallway and crosses her arms. “Not really. I’m not looking for a new love just yet, Robin. How long have you been in those pajamas?”

I look down. “Three days.”

“Does that mean you haven’t bathed?”

“I guess not.”

“We’re going to change that.”

“I don’t feel like being clean.”

“You’ll feel better. Come on.” She takes me by the arm and pulls me upstairs to my bathroom. She begins to run me a bath, pours in my favorite bubble bath. I sit on the toilet. “Stand up, Robin.”

I do. She puts the seat cover down. “I see you’ve had a few, huh?”

“A girl’s just gotta have fun, sometimes.”

“Can you get out of those pajamas?”

I look down. Why are there so many buttons on this top?

“Don’t worry about it. Where do you keep your hairbrush?”

I point to a drawer.

She gets it out, along with a scrunchie, and pulls my hair up into a ponytail. “Stand up, Robin.” She unbuttons my top and pulls my bottoms down. I hold on to her shoulder for balance. She tests the water. “Go ahead, sweetie. Get in.”

I do exactly that.

“This all makes sense, Robin. And mark my words, it’ll be better soon.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because this is just a transition.”

She hands me my sponge ball.

“It’s bullshit. That’s what this is, Savannah.”

“I know. But you have a chance to start fresh.”

“Fresh?”

“When we’re in Paris. You can think about which direction you might want to explore.”

“I’m not going to Paris with you, Savannah.”

“Yes, you are.” She flops down on the toilet seat a little too hard. I kind of chuckle.

“It was a nice gesture. And you know I appreciate it, but I really need to stay here and get my life together.”

“Your life hasn’t fallen apart, Robin. You just don’t have a job. Where’s Sparrow?”

“At midnight bowling.”

“But it’s not midnight.”

“They start early.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“It is. It’s more like a club. Neon lights. A DJ who plays nothing but hip-hop music. They dance and everything.”

“Is it only for teenagers?”

“No.”

“We should go.”

“Not on the nights they go.”

“We could start a night for us boomers.”

“Do you know how to bowl?”

“Roll the ball down the middle of the lane and knock over the fucking pins. Duh.”

This is funny. Savannah is a hoot sometimes. I’m glad she’s here, glad she’s my friend.

“I still like to dance. Don’t you?” she asks.

“Speaking of dances.”

“Don’t go there. Please! Give it a rest or I’ll get up from this toilet seat and drown your ass!”

“Okay, okay. How long were you planning on staying this evening?” I ask her.

“Until we work this out.”

“Work what out?”

“Your future. Paris.”

“I already said I’m not going, Savannah.”

“But I invited you.”

“I’m uninviting me.”

“You should come anyway.”

“Are you deaf? You
should
go by yourself. Just the way you planned. I need to stay here and figure out what I’m going to do next.”

“Are you sure you won’t come?”

“Not now. Another time.”

“And that’s your final answer?”

“That’s it. And thank you for inviting me, Savannah.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

She stands up. “All right, get your ass out of there. You should be sparkling clean. I didn’t see you wash those ears! Where’s a clean towel?”

“Open that cabinet. They’re in there. You want some wine?”

“No thank you. And you’re not having any more either.”

She hands me the towel. I wrap it around myself.

“You’re in good shape, Robin. I swear you make me want to exercise.”

“You will when it’s important enough to you.”

“That would be like last year. Anyway, put on a pair of fresh pajamas and meet me downstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I do as I’m told. When I get downstairs, Savannah is helping herself to one of my Lean Cuisines. I sit at the table in the nook and cup my chin inside my hand. “It looks like I’m still unemployed.”

“You know, Robin, let’s get this over with, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We all know you were tired of that boring-ass job and you’d reached that stupid glass ceiling, right?”

I nod.

“Think of this as a blessing.”

“Please don’t start with that blessing stuff. It’s so lame.”

“I’ll put it this way. You have no idea what opportunities might be out there waiting for you to seize them.”

“That’s another one! Have you started going back to church again?”

“Shut up, Robin. No. Although it’s not a bad idea.”

“I don’t know how to handle this, okay? I’ve never been unemployed before.”

“You have a degree in business. You also have something most people who lose their jobs don’t have. Backup funds.”

“I don’t think about that money because it’s for when I’m older.”

“And when does that start?”

“I need some new skills. The kind that are marketable.”

“Then go back to school and get some.”

“I’m too old to go back to college, Savannah.”

“That is the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard in a long time. Too old to learn?”

“What would I look like sitting in a classroom with kids fresh out of high school?”

“Times have changed, Robin. Interspersed in most of those classes are students of all ages and backgrounds. There’s a lot of people who’ve decided to change lanes, even after years of being successful. You tell me where it’s written that you have to be eighteen to get into college?”

“You’ve got a point. I don’t think I’d feel right.”

“Then you should think about what Gloria suggested.”

“You mean opening my own consignment shop?”

“I looked it up. Check your in-box for a change. There’s more than fifteen thousand of them all over the United States. That should tell you something. You’d be your own boss. Blah blah blah. I’m not trying to do a hard sell, but it sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

“I do love to shop. I wonder if I’d get the same charge watching other people do it?”

“Have you been back to that yoga class?”

“No. I was waiting for you.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Okay, so can you like go home now? I’m tired.”

“You’re buzzed. There’s a big difference.”

“Show yourself out. And thanks again.” I give her a hug then head back up to my room. I fall across the bed. I think I hear the door close. Then again, it could be Halle, kicking her neighbors’ door in when they refuse to turn that music down.

I keep my word. In the morning, I go to the gym. I do not want to believe I have a hangover. I think I do. I’ve been on this treadmill for forty-three minutes. I’m dripping with perspiration and it probably reeks of sauvignon whatever. I’m taking a long sip of Cytomax when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in years: “Robin Stokes. As I live and breathe.”

I turn to match the voice with the face. Standing next to me is Michael, obviously reincarnated. He is not fat by a long shot. He’s also handsome. What happened to those puffy cheeks? He must be gay now because he’s buff. I’ll bet it’s from steroids. I press the STOP button. “Is that really you, Michael?”

“It is I. I was pretty sure that was you,” he says. “You have just made my day. I don’t believe this. I was just thinking about you this morning. Wondering what you might be up to. I kid you not.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were living in Miami?”

“I moved back to Phoenix about a year ago. I have a CPA firm. My kids have graduated from college. And I just bought a house not far from here, which is why I joined this gym. You look fantastic, Robin.”

“So do you, Michael. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I’ve lost a few pounds since the last time we saw each other. So how are you? What are you up to? Are you still in underwriting? Ever get married? You don’t look like you’ve had any kids.”

“As a matter of fact, I just got riffed from our old firm if you can believe it, and no, I never got married but I do have a sixteen-year-old daughter.”

“You won’t have any problem finding another job—that is, assuming you’re looking for something in the same field.”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, to be honest with you. I’ll figure it out. It just happened. So, how about you, Michael? Did you ever remarry?”

“No,” he says and winks at me. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for you.”

Thank You

Gloria had no idea why the policeman was pulling her over.

She wasn’t speeding. She came to complete stops when she was supposed to. She definitely wasn’t tailgating. Or weaving. And Blaze and Diamond were securely strapped in their car seats. This Tahoe was much bigger than her Volvo but Gloria knew how to handle it. She hadn’t broken any laws.

“Here comes the policeman, Gawa,” Blaze said with a tinge of excitement in her voice. Even Diamond, who was sucking her thumb, looked rather eager.

Gloria put her flashers on and rolled the window down. “Yes, officer, did I do something wrong?”

“First, may I see your license and registration and proof of insurance, please? Hi there, kids.”

They merely gazed at him.

After Gloria handed him the items, she turned to the kids. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

“Well, ma’am, you were doing thirty-one in a twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone. And,” he said, looking into the backseat, “I’m not sure this is such a safe way to drive with these little ones in here.”

“I understand, Officer, but my speedometer is digital and it said I was only doing twenty-six. I’ve been driving in this neighborhood for over twenty years. It’s the route I take to work. I obey all speed limits.”

“That’s good to hear. For now, however, I’m going to have to issue you a citation. I’ll be right back. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Gawa,” Blaze said, and leaned forward in her car seat so the straps made her look like a prisoner. “Fight it! Don’t pay it! Just go to court!”

Gloria turned to face her five-year-old granddaughter. “What do you know about fighting and going to court, young lady?”

“Every time the policemens stopped my mommy, as soon as he leaved she would say: ‘I’m going to fight this damn ticket! I’m not paying this! I’ll just go to court! I was not speeding!’ ”

“Oh, really,” Gloria said.

Diamond was nodding her head in agreement. That thumb was probably wrinkled by now.

When the officer returned, he handed Gloria her papers. “You know what, ma’am? Two things. First, I saw that you have not had any prior infractions, and two, you’re related to my buddy Tarik. Aren’t you his mom?”

“I am indeed.”

“He’s our daddy!” Blaze yelled. Diamond nodded.

“You kids have a great dad, you know. And tell your mom Officer Bell said hello. Would you do that for me?”

“We can’t,” Blaze said.

“And why not, sweetheart?”

“Because she’s away on vacation,” Gloria interrupted.

“No, she’s not on vacation, Gawa! She’s in jail. We can’t go see her there. We can’t call either. But she’ll be out soon.”

First of all, this was news to Gloria—shocking news. “You know how silly kids can be,” she said.

“I do. What imaginations they have. Too much TV. Anyway, ma’am, what I’m going to do today is issue you a warning. You don’t have to do anything. Remember, it’s always better to stay a little under the posted limit, okay?”

“I’ll do that, officer. And thank you.”

After Gloria pulled off, he waved. The kids didn’t wave back.

“Where are we going now, Gawa?”

“First, we’re going to stop by a jewelry store. Then we’re going to Gawa’s hair salon for a little while. Your dad said he’d bring Stone over to Gawa’s after his Cub Scout meeting. And he’ll pick you guys up later.”

“Goodie. Can we get our nails polished?”

Diamond took that thumb out of her mouth and pointed to her toes.

“Yes, you may.”

“And can we have McDonald’s? Please, Gawa?”

“We’ll see. Blazie, how do you know your mommy’s in jail?”

“Because Brass told me and Stone.”

“When did you talk to Brass?”

“Yesterday or last week. I can’t remember.”

“Does your dad know your mommy’s in jail?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you miss your mommy being at home?”