This was not a good day. And it’s not over with yet. I can see that if I go down to the show, that’s gonna mean hangin’ out in the bar later, or worse, during the show, and I don’t know if I’m up to that.
The massage hurts. I know this guy doesn’t mean to hurt and that normally it wouldn’t hurt, but it hurts tonight. It’s like every one of my muscles is clenched up tight and won’t let go. He feels it, and he’s workin’ each muscle out, but I can’t relax and I can see this isn’t helpin’ me. I can’t relax.
“Forget it, man,” I tell the guy, and I pull the sheet around my waist as I sit up.
“You’re tight,” he tells me, as he’s wiping oil off his hands with a towel. “Take a soak in a hot tub, it’ll help.”
“You want me to run one for you?” Marc asks. He’s been sittin’ in the living room with me, just readin’ a paper and waitin’ on his turn for a rub down, but now he turns into ‘bodyguard’.
“Yeah, just turn the taps on, and I’ll take it from there.” I wanna find my wallet and tip this guy. I know I don’t have to, that everything is included, but I try to do it all the time, ‘cause people remember that sort of thing. I find it and give the guy a C-note. OVER tipping is usually remembered, too.
The tub in the bathroom is almost filled by the time I wander in there and wade into the water. Marc is havin’ his massage and I try to relax. I’ve always liked a good soak. Even bubbles baths, yeah, I know, don’t even go there; it’s somethin’ from when I was a kid. There aren’t any bubbles now, just what the jets make once I turn them on. Low. I don’t wanna feel like I’m sittin’ in a friggin’ blender.
I think of blenders and I think of Shi. I wish I had one of her drinks right now. Something cold and frothy. Maybe one of the creamy ones. Sometimes, when she puts tonic water into them, into the smooth ones, it’s almost like havin’ a drink again, too. Man, I shoulda brought her with me. Her AND Tish. Hell, Tish is a smart kid; a coupla days off from school wouldn’t kill her. And then Shi could, like… I dunno. Be here. She’s good company.
I lay my head back and close my eyes.
Nothing that was fun is really fun anymore. I thought that bein’ here in Vegas would be a blast. I thought I needed some, some guy time or somethin’ to sort of erase Thursday night. I guess it hit me harder than I want to admit. I guess this is sorta how Sarah felt. I know it’s not exactly the same. We’re not together now, the wedding’s been on hold for a while, well, I guess that’s off completely now. And I guess really, really knowing that just, well, it just sucks. Even right now I feel somethin’ tighten in my chest. Anxiety.
I’m gonna be alone. I don’t know why that’s the worst thing in the world to me. I don’t, and I’ve been tryin’ to figure it out for a while now. There was a time when I wasn’t even aware of it, of the fact that I don’t like to be alone, even if it means that there’s just someone else hangin’ around, not even talking to me, just bein’ there. Even like Marcus.
I don’t mind Marcus. We get along. We fell into place a long time ago. Better than any other guard I’ve ever had, and there’s been a few. He doesn’t get in my face and he’s saved my ass more than once. He put up with me when I was a total dick, an asshole; at my complete worst.
Rene and Todd. They’re kinda like ‘who cares’. I’m tryin’ NOT to hang around Rene so much. There’s time’s when I gotta. The whole AA thing. And the AA thing ain’t workin’ for me. I can’t stand sittin’ in those meetings every goddamned day. I can’t stand how I spend my time anymore. Up, golf; eat somethin’, meeting, home. Not exactly exciting. Not exactly anything special, or even interesting. The best days are Tuesdays and Fridays when Juli comes around and Shi is there a little bit more than on other days, and it’s different. Or when there are other people in the house, like Mickie. Like Mindi.
I need for things to be a little more like that. I need people comin’ and goin’ and doin’ stuff. Not a lot of them, but some to just make it different.
I wonder what Shi would think about that, about more people bein’ that the house? I wonder why the hell I care what she would think about that. I can do as I please, it’s my fuckin’ house.
But I still wonder if she would mind.
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I have very well groomed toes and fingers. The most well groomed that they’ve ever been. I never do that, never wear nail polish, and never ever do anything but clip my toenails. Now they look quite decadent with their coatings of brick red lacquer. The tone, so I’m told, compliments my hair. I’ve also been told that pinks and neutrals would be good, too.
Every few moments I find myself looking down at feet that don’t look like mine.
“You’re obsessing,” Nyle says with a laugh. She and her daughter, Erin, have joined us for supper. It turned into a completely ‘girl’ day, with all of us luxuriating with some form of makeover or other.
“I feel obscene,” I say. I do. I’ve bought clothes, got my hair trimmed, had my nails done, and treated myself to some new make-up. I look at Tish, who is still sporting the full bloom of her makeover, and smile. She looks grown up like that, with the subtle hints of blush on her clear, smooth skin and her already long lashes made longer with a light coating of mascara. I was glad that the woman who put the makeup on her kept it soft and subtle. I was so pleased, I let the woman work a little of her magic on me, and am not unhappy with the results.
All of us look dreamy and content over our drinks. We’ve taken up two tables at a small restaurant on the beach, sitting outside so we can look at the ocean; the girls at one table, us older ladies at another. A little thrill runs through me.
I’ve never had a day like this. I’ve never been in the company of other women in a purely social way. I’ve had acquaintances when I worked, many, many years ago. So long ago that those occasional lunches we shared seem as if they never happened. But a day like today, when I can take off on my own, with Tish, where I can shop with my own money and not have to worry about what I’m spending, and be in the company of other woman who, if not in like circumstances, then of like minds, a day like today will be the kind of day I’ll never forget.
“You look like that cat that ate the canary,” Nyle says over the rim of her wine glass. We’re sharing a bottle of red. Something dry and full flavored. I’m sipping mine. I’m not much of a drinker, and have become less of one because of Alex. I’m not even cooking with wine, something I was never able to do much of before my move to professional domestic, something I had somewhat looked forward to experimenting with. I can’t do that to him. So, while the wine tastes delicious, I’m sipping slowly so it won’t go to my head.
“I’m just happy to be here,” I say to her and to Mickie. I am happy to be here. The evening is mellow and lovely, the company is good, and I’m doing something I’ve never done before. Tish is happy, Kim is happy; they have their own table. They’re being ‘big girls’ today.
“Well, I’m just happy you ARE here,” Mickie says.
“Likewise,” says Nyle. She takes another sip of her wine and looks out at the ocean, at the last of the sun dipping behind the horizon. “I know exactly how you feel,” she goes on. “Look at that. That’s what I came out here for, for views like that. And the heat,” she says with a little snort and a laugh. “I really pushed for Erin to apply to California colleges.” Erin laughs at her mother and nods. I like Erin, she’s a sensible girl, a reliable girl, even though she’s really not a girl at all; she’s burgeoning into womanhood.
“That’s the truth,” Erin says. “I think every application I sent to other places never made it to the post office.”
“They didn’t,” Nyle says, an eyebrow raised and a grin on her face. And mother and daughter laugh at each other. “I know that Erin was partial to coming here. It just presented itself as a golden opportunity to get out of Canada. Isn’t that how you feel?” Nyle asks me.
“Yes,” I agree. “I know that I opted for being in a warm place. I thought it would be easier to be poor and warm, than poor and cold somewhere else. I thought about the southern east coast a little bit. I’ve lived there before. But, I don’t know, I didn’t think it would afford me any opportunities. Who knows? Maybe I was feeling like a bit of a pioneer at that point.”
“Hmm, interesting,” Nyle says. Her hand is swirling the wine around in her glass.
“What’s interesting?” I ask.
“That you made that correlation. That’s a very valid leap.” She takes another sip of wine and tops off her glass afterward. “If you’re still interested in those books on depression, come by the library on Monday, and I’ll have some waiting for you.”
I feel as if I’ve passed some test I didn’t even know I was taking. Nyle removed from the library is a more complex person than I originally thought. Where Mickie is straightforward, Nyle is more, hmm, more circular in her thinking. And then there’s the fact that Mickie and I are having a shared experience with our daughters being the same age. Nyle is light years ahead of us in the parenting department. And even though I have no intention of asking Nyle her age, I sense that she’s older than myself, and I know that I’m a bit older than Mickie.
“Is, is he still depressed?” Mickie asks. I know that she’s wanted to ask that question since the discussion at the mall. I don’t know why I don’t want to answer it. It’s not a secret; I know it’s not a secret. It just feels funny. But I find myself nodding. “That’s too bad.”
“Is Siobhan’s employer a friend of yours?” Nyle asks.
“More of an acquaintance. I know more ‘of’ him than I actually ‘know’ him. But we’ve worked in the same circles. And we’ve spoken several times.” Mickie winks at me.
“Depression isn’t something that just disappears,” Nyle says.
“I think this last bout was brought on by him forgetting to take his medications,” I say.
“Ah, so he’s chemical?”
“Chemical?”
“His depression is brought on by chemical imbalance, rather than emotional.”
“I can’t say, I don’t really know,” I admit. “I just know that he’s not very, not very content with life most of the time. And when he forgot to take his pills he began to slip into some pretty dark moods.” I shake my head. “That sounds so ominous. It’s not. He’s really very easy to work for.” I want to change the subject. I feel that Alex’s ears should be burning right about now. “In fact, he’s given me the ‘okay’ to redecorate his house, so while I’m on a little vacation this week, I think that I’ll be scouring the shops in the area. Can anyone recommend a good place for paint and wallpaper?”
Nyle and Mickie start talking over each other, and I just nod and smile. I take my notepad from my purse and automatically write down the names of the places they’re offering to me. Later on I’ll look this list over.
I’m not going to talk about Alex anymore today. I don’t feel comfortable about it. It’s only gossip, and while I don’t mind gossip as a rule, I don’t like gossiping about Alex. It’s disloyal. It’s almost petty. And I don’t think that he wants his personal problems being discussed and chewed over, even if it’s just a bunch of ladies on a patio at sunset.
I look at my view of the ocean. It’s beautiful, this night, with the warm breezes and the sound of the waves. I turn around. I can see the tip of Alex’s house up the side of the mountain we’re nestled at the foot of. I wonder if he can see the sunset, too, before I remember that he’s not up there at the moment; that the house is empty. That makes me feel a little sad, in a wistful way.
He doesn’t know what he’s missing.
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
