Time Flies (23 page)

“Someone once told me,” he said, “that it takes a month to get over each year you were married.”

“I hope that someone was wrong,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ve got that long.”

He let out another laugh. He had a great laugh, nothing
mean or measured about it. “But I think in some ways you can start counting from the time you first begin detaching from each other, if that makes sense.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “That does make sense.”

“Well, I’ll let you get primping for that reunion.”

“Well, it’s not till tomorrow. And I’m a fast primper. But I should get back to my friends. Anyway, shall I give you a call about the fireflies when I’m back in town?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay, I’m going to let you hang up first this time.”

I could still hear Ted Brody’s booming laugh after we hung up. He was a nice guy, and for a moment I almost wished I was still back in Atlanta so we could hang out and talk some more.

Then I remembered Finn Miller. I did a quick email check before I headed back inside.

To:
Melanie

From:
Finn Miller

Subject:
playlist

Thought about asking if you wanted to meet for a drink first but I don’t want to miss watching you walk through the door.

Here’s the whole playlist. Been listening to it for weeks.

Nights in White Satin, The Moody Blues

Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin

You Are So Beautiful, Joe Cocker

The Letter, The Box Tops

More Than a Feeling, Boston

When Will I Be Loved, Linda Ronstadt version of course

Wonderful Tonight, Eric Clapton

Right Now and Not Later, The Marshalls

Love the One You’re With, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Brand New Key, Melanie (your namesake)

Let’s Get It On, Marvin Gaye

To:
Finn Miller

From:
Melanie

Subject:
Re: playlist

I forgot all about the other Melanie!

Just so we synchronize our arrivals, what time are you going?

CHAPTER 24

“Hurry up,” B.J. yelled. “We’re way off schedule.”

“I’ll be right there,” I yelled back. I pulled up Finn’s email and double-checked a song. I’d managed to sign into my iTunes account and was downloading Finn’s playlist to my phone.

B.J. poked her head into the guest room. “
What
are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just buying a few more songs I remembered.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I worked really hard on that playlist. I think we have plenty.”

I tapped the final
BUY
link and jumped up. “Of course we do. But when it comes to the old songs, more is more.”

I grabbed my purse and my carry-on and followed B.J. down the stairs.

Fawn was wearing a Hello Kitty bathing
suit and skidding across the Slip’n Slide, backward of course, when we got outside. Veronica kept one eye on her as the three of us had a group hug.

“Are you sure you two can’t come with us?” I said.

“I’m sure,” Veronica said. “But thanks for stopping by. It was great hanging out with you.”

“What about Mark?” B.J. said. “Will he be home this weekend? You could just drive up by yourself for a few hours for the reunion. I’m on the committee, so I’m sure I can still get you a ticket. If they’ve already given the numbers to the caterer, I’ll just steal someone else’s.”

“He’s not coming home this weekend.” Veronica combed her fingers through her hair. “And I have to tell you, I don’t think I’d be up for it anyway. Too much I don’t feel like talking about.”

“Not a problem,” B.J. said. “We’ll make up a story for you. We could say you’ve invented a breakfast cereal that entertains kids for hours by making them talk backward.”

“Beej,” I said.

Veronica looked over at Fawn. “Yeah, and as soon as I come up with the antidote, I’ll let you know.”

“What about one of your other kids?” B.J. said. “Couldn’t they watch her for a few hours?”

Fawn stretched out on the Slip’n Slide facing us. Her eyes were half closed, like a snake sunning itself. Every once in a while, she’d stick her tongue out and pull it back in so quickly, it was as if it had never happened.

Veronica lowered her voice even more. “Neither of them is around this summer. And let’s just say that I’m not comfortable leaving her with anyone else right now anyway.”

“Fine,” B.J. said. “We’ll just pack her up and take her with us then. We’ll tell everyone at the reunion she’s with the band. And Mel and I will help you keep an eye on her.”

“If there’s one thing this kid doesn’t need, it’s another party,” Veronica said in a flat voice.

She gave us each another hug, carefully avoiding our tattoos, then turned to Fawn. “Say good-bye to Melanie and B.J.,” she yelled across the backyard.

Fawn stuck her tongue way out and slowly pulled it back into her mouth. “Eyb-doog,” she said.

“Eyb-doog,” we said.

“Okay, we’re out of here,” B.J. said.

“Let me just run back in and go to the bathroom again first,” I said.

B.J. shook her head. “Make it fast.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to drive while you have me as your copilot?” B.J. asked. “I mean, maybe now that you’ve talked about it openly, driving on the highway won’t be as much of an issue.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be God who’s my copilot?” I said.

B.J. rummaged in her shoulder bag for her keys. “Or dog, depending on the bumper sticker.”

“Why do I think Fawn may have come up with that bumper sticker? That is one smart kid.”

“Scary smart,” B.J. said.

I put my suitcase down behind the Mustang. We’d stripped the guest room beds and thrown the sheets and pillowcases into
the washing machine when we got up, and loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher before we left. We’d both gone back inside and written our cell phone numbers on the memo pad hanging on the refrigerator, just to be sure Veronica knew where they were. But I was still feeling a little bit guilty that we could breeze right out the door.

B.J. finally pulled out her key ring. “Well, that’s a relief—I was starting to think my keys had disappeared. I love Veronica, but I don’t think I could have handled five more minutes here. I’ve paid my dues. My caretaking days are over.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “They say it’s completely different when it’s your own grandchild.”

“Right,” B.J. said as she popped the Mustang’s trunk open. “And they say cauliflower can taste like mashed potatoes, too.” She collapsed the handle of her carry-on and hefted it in. “It’s probably a suburban myth fabricated by some ungrateful kid who wants you to babysit her ungrateful kid.”

I slid my carry-on into the trunk beside B.J.’s. “Whoa. Where did that come from?”

B.J. shrugged. “I just want to enjoy my fifteen minutes of selfishness, that’s all. I mean, first it’s all about your kids, and then it’s the dog they left behind and never fed anyway, and then it’s your parents. And now we’ve both got this tiny window to enjoy ourselves before it all starts up again. So let’s party on, Romy. And hopefully Veronica will find a way to ditch the kid and meet us at the reunion. And I really think you should drive.”

I headed for the passenger side. “Sure, I’ll drive. And we’ll stop and get you another tattoo while we’re out so you can work on your needle phobia. Maybe this one will heal by tomorrow.”

Fawn wiggled out from under the Mustang and hissed.

B.J. screamed, long and loud.

I held my phone out so we could both hear the music and rocked my head back and forth to the slow, sexy beat of “You Are So Beautiful.”

B.J. turned to look at me. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first of all, Sally’s speakers are obviously far superior, so I don’t even know why we’re listening to your cell phone. But, come on, really? ‘When Will I Be Loved,’ ‘Wonderful Tonight,’ and now ‘You Are So Beautiful.’ Even I think we might have a theme here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

B.J. adjusted her scarf. The ride back had been uneventful and truckerless. I had a few early warning twinges riding over the Sagamore Bridge, even with B.J. driving, but nothing after that. Once we got off the highway, we’d pulled over to put Mustang Sally’s top down. Then we tied on scarves to protect B.J.’s hair and what was left of mine.

We’d finished Finn Miller’s playlist, so we switched back to B.J.’s iPod as we drove along the back roads to Marshbury. Elton John burst into “Bennie and the Jets.”

“She’s got electric boobs and a new tattoo,” B.J. sang.