A Pinch of Ooh La La (27 page)

Can't make the movie. Going to Yountville with a friend. C U when I return.

My stomach churned and spun. I lowered my head into my arms and closed my eyes. As sure as the shiver running up and down my arms, I was not going to bother trying to talk myself out of what I knew: Carmen was in Yountville with Samuel, and there was no reason for them to go to Yountville unless something romantic was going on between them. I felt sick. I felt ready to throw up.

“Abbey? You okay? Hey, Abbey . . . Noel, can we get some water over here?
Abbey
.”

I heard Noel setting a glass next to me. “Abbey, you okay?”

My hands were shaking as I lifted my head and stared at Jake. “I can't drive right now, but I need a ride to Yountville. Can you take me?”

“You look horrible. I don't think you should be going anywhere.”

“Can you take me or not?”

He slammed his math book closed. “Sure.”

•   •   •

W
e drove to Yountville in Jake's . . . actually, I had to ask him. “What kind of car is this?”

“Nineteen seventy-eight Gremlin,
ba
-by! You don't see these
beauties on the road much anymore. She's my precious jewel.” He rubbed the dashboard. “You don't have to worry; I rebuilt the engine myself. She can go the distance and then some.”

The Gremlin had a fresh coat of orange paint with a white stripe running along its side. It was triangular in shape and small enough that I felt like I was riding inside a large shoe. An Einstein bobblehead in the center of the dashboard bounced and wiggled on every bump. Papers with Jake's scrawled notes covered the floor. I leaned back and closed my eyes. If I'd been thinking straight I would have given him my car keys.

I heard: “You going to tell me what's going on?”

“Let's get there first.”

The drive from Oakland to Yountville usually took an hour and fifteen minutes, but in the Gremlin it took an hour and thirty. The difference wasn't much, except that for the entire drive I felt nauseous and short of breath. I knew what was coming and what I'd find, but I didn't want to face it.

Samuel's car was parked in the driveway when we pulled up.

“Whose house is that?” Jake asked. He was wearing the yellow sunglasses again.

“Wait here.”

“You're gonna do me like that? After I drove you here?”

I stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I walked to the edge of the lawn, thinking about my dreams of one day having kids with Samuel and bringing them here. A part of me didn't want to believe it, but even seeing his car in the driveway, I knew. I started up the path. When I stumbled, Jake gave a light honk of the horn, but I turned and gestured for him to stay put; I was fine.

Once at the door, I gave my T-shirt a tug and realized it was covered in flour. My clogs looked no better. I took a breath—
Who cared that I looked like shit?
—and knocked.

Carmen answered the door. As soon as she saw me, she clasped her hands over her mouth and inhaled so strongly she hiccupped.

I glared, unblinking, while she began walking backward into the house. Except for the terror in her eyes, she looked perfectly at home. Her hair was out of its ponytail and falling to her shoulders. She wore a tank top and jeans and flip-flops; her toes were painted blue.

“We didn't do anything,” she muttered.

Samuel came from the kitchen. “Who's—” He was wiping his hands on a towel and stopped short. If he was surprised to see me, he wasn't going to let it show. He narrowed his eyes and took a long breath. “Nothing happened, Abbey, so I need you to stay calm.”

“What is she doing here?”

“We didn't do anything,” Carmen cried. “I swear we didn't do anything.”

Samuel raised his hands in the air while walking toward me. He continued to speak to me in a calm and even manner like someone trying to convince a person not to jump off a bridge or shoot a gun. “We were spending time together; that's all. We're friends.”

Carmen was crying by this point. “We didn't do anything but kiss. I swear!”

I glared at Samuel:
You fucking kissed her?

“Okay. Yes. But nothing beyond kissing. I've been in a state. We've all been through a lot these past months.”

“He's right,” said Carmen. “We've been through a lot. But I swear we didn't do anything more than make out.”

“She doesn't need details, Carmen,” said Samuel.

I looked at my sister. I heard myself say,
I thought we were friends. I thought we were close.
But, no, I hadn't said a word. I
returned my gaze to Samuel—and that towel in his hand. He was cooking. I could smell the aroma of bacon and toast coming from the kitchen. His shirt was open. He wore a T-shirt underneath, but the sight of him . . . so relaxed . . . so at home . . .
with my sister . . .
I felt my stomach threaten to heave up and out the croissant I'd had earlier. It wasn't until my foot caught on one of the rugs that I realized I was backing away from them.

Carmen reached out her hand. She'd stopped crying, but her face was splotchy. “Wait. I can explain. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

Jake was by my side as if from nowhere.
“What the . . . ?”

Carmen cried, “Oh my God. Not you, too!
Please.
Jake, what are you doing here?”

Jake looked from Carmen to Samuel. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Let's everybody calm down,” said Samuel. “It's been an intense past few months and we need to talk this out. Carmen and I can explain.”

“It's been an intense past few months,” Jake mocked. “Jesus. Listen to him, Car. He's such a pretentious prick.”

“Hey now, watch it,” Carmen warned.

I heard a loud crash and realized I'd backed into a lamp.

Samuel started toward me. “Abbey, why don't you sit down?”

“Don't you say a word to me.” I was not going to let him have the satisfaction of watching me lose it. I turned to Jake. “Come on, Jake. Let's go.”

He remained still until I pulled him along. I heard Carmen call out, “Let me come, too. I can explain!”

We didn't give her a chance to follow. Once we were in the car, Jake sped off, giving us no time to rethink or look back. “Fuck,” he said, hitting the steering wheel with his fist. “Fuck! Did you know?”

“Not until you mentioned Yountville.” My phone started to ring and I turned it off.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. After a long pause: “Fuck.”

“Okay, Jake. I know.”

His voice low, he said, “Abbey, we've been cuckolded. We've been betrayed. Cheated. Lied to. That fucker is old enough to be her father.”

“Just drive, Jake. Let's get out of here.”

This Night Has Opened My Eyes

C
armen and Samuel continued to call and send texts, but I ignored them. When Carmen showed up at my house that afternoon, I refused to open the door. The only person I talked to after Jake dropped me off was Bendrix. He came over and listened to me rant and held me when I finally broke down and cried.

Carmen must have told the wives her side of the story, because they began calling, too, and telling me that I needed to talk to her. And then my sister Dinah called from wherever she was on tour. They all left messages saying I needed to forgive Carmen; she was my sister.

You never would've known a thing was wrong, except a few days later, after making a perfectly delicate two-tier wedding cake, I had a flash of my sister's blue toenails, and within seconds, I poked my finger into as much icing as I could hold and shoved it in my mouth. Beth stared at me, wide-eyed. When I
couldn't taste the icing on my tongue, I dug my finger in again. I stared at that cake with its stupid painted flowers and stupid damask while licking icing from my finger. I used my arm to move the cake across the long worktable and straight into the trash bin. Beth shouted—“Oh my God, Abbey!” I finished licking the icing. It felt good to destroy something.

I went home early. Around seven, I heard someone knock. I saw through the peephole that it was Samuel and refused to open the door. “I know you're there, Abbey. Your car's out front.” He waited, then started speaking through the door. He said he hadn't been thinking straight. He and Carmen had always been close, but he hadn't meant for things to get out of hand. He said,
“Blah blah blah.”
And
“Wa wa wa wa.”
He then cried,
“Wacka doodle! Wacka dack!”

Just so I wouldn't have to listen, I went to my bedroom, grabbed two pillows, and pressed them over my ears. He stood outside my door for a good fifteen minutes, but I was so finished, so over him, so disgusted, I never wanted to see him again.

I'm not sure how long I stayed in my bedroom, but when I finally went back out, I saw that he'd slipped a note through the mail slot.

Abbey,

I'm very sorry.
I will admit that I crossed a line. But we only kissed. You also have to understand that my actions were a result of cracking under the pressure of our divorce.
Can we please talk about this?

Samuel

I called Bendrix and read him the note. He was at the hospital and on his way to the OR but laughed and said, “Read it again. That's brilliant. He's nuts.” He then said he had time to
wait while I burned it. I held the phone close to the flame so that he could hear the crackling of the paper. “Good girl,” he said.

•   •   •

T
he wives showed up two days later. I threatened to call the cops if they didn't get off my porch. I did not want to discuss what had happened. I did not want to talk to Carmen, let alone forgive her.

I sat on my couch and listened.

“Open this goddamn door right now, Abbey.” Bailey, of course. “You need to talk to your damn sister. She needs you, and you need to forgive her! Hello? Abbey Lincoln Ross! I know you're in there! Open the goddamn door!”

Rita next: “Sweetheart, we have flowers for you and a bottle of pinot. It's from Doug's collection and very rare. Open up and we'll have a drink.”

A few seconds later, I heard Bailey again: “I told you a bottle of wine wouldn't work.”

“Well, it's certainly better than cursing and scaring the entire neighborhood.”

Joan: “Abbey, why don't you open up? You won't have to say a word; just let us in. We're all here to see that you are all right.”

Not until I heard Aiko's voice did my defenses begin to crack.
Aiko was with them?
“Abbey? I have your brothers with me. You're going to leave us out here? They're hungry. Bud, tell your sister how hungry you are.”

After a moment I heard Bud say, “I'm hungry.”

I straightened up from the couch and swung open the door. “Really, Aiko? Using two innocent children?”

“A woman has to do what a woman has to do,” she said.

I stared at them all, huddled on my porch. “You guys look like a witches' coven.”

Joan raised her fingers in the air and pulled back her lips. “‘Fair is foul, and foul is fair: / Hover through the fog and filthy air.'”

Bailey gave her a look.

“It's Shakespeare,” she said. When Bailey continued to stare, she added, “He was once known as a great playwright?”

Bailey rolled her eyes.

I picked up Ornette and brought him close to my hip. “Come on in.”

I made the boys peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and opened the bottle of wine Rita had brought. We sat in the living room.

Bailey said, “I knew that man couldn't be trusted. There was something in his eyes.”

Rita huffed. “You thought he was handsome.”

“So did you,” Bailey snapped.

I brought my feet up on the couch and sipped my wine. “I do not want to talk about
him
. If you mention
him
again, I'm going to ask every one of you to leave.”

Rita said, “Carmen swears nothing happened beyond some kissing, and I believe her.”

Joan said, “She made a good point. She wanted to be found out; otherwise, she wouldn't have told Jake where she was going.”

Bailey looked at me and said, “Y'all two fighting right now is just not good for the family.”

“Family,” I mocked. “Why are you getting on me about family? Look what she did.”

“She's young,” said Rita. “Her mother is a mess; let's not forget that.”

“True,” said Bailey. “That asshole is the culprit here, though. Carmen is only, what? Twenty-two? He manipulated her.”

Joan stared at me for a long moment. “She's your sister,” she said. “Like it or not, family is family.”

I looked at them all:
Fuck family.

Aiko pulled Ornette into her lap. He was still eating his
sandwich. “Joan's right, Abbey. Family is family.” When she kissed the top of Ornette's head, I felt the weight of her words. “I know that what they did was painful and wrong, but life is too short to hold a grudge. We are a family and we can't have you two not speaking to each other. Your father would not put up with this. And we're not going to allow it either.” She gazed around the living room at the wives. When Ornette held up his sandwich, she took a bite and smiled. “Lincoln showed me what it was like to have a real family. We're not perfect by any means, but if anything ever happened to Carmen, and you guys still weren't speaking? You'd hate yourself.” She gazed over at Bud. We all watched him briefly as he took a bite of his sandwich and played with a toy car. “Your father told me every single night that he loved me and I was beautiful. No matter if he was on the road or not.”

“He did?” said Bailey. “He never told me that—not every night.”

“Me either,” said Rita, dismissively.

Joan stared at the ceiling. “He made us all feel special, didn't he? It takes an extraordinary man to make a family like ours.” She let her voice drop and looked over at me again. When I met her gaze she arched her brow:
Do not blow it, Abbey. Do not ruin your father's legacy.

Aiko said, “You never know when the last time you'll see someone will be. You should at least talk to her.”

I wanted to stay angry, I did, but with the boys in the room—knowing that they wouldn't know Dad like we had, knowing that my dad would hate to know Carmen and I weren't speaking . . . I threw up my hands. “Okay, okay, I give up! I'll talk to her! You guys are too much, you know. You're gonna make me start crying.”

Bailey clapped her hands and shot up from the couch. “Great! I'll go get her.”

I sat up.
“What?”

Rita tossed her wine back. “She's in the car.”

I watched dumbfounded as Bailey went to the front door. “Car! Get your ass in here. She's finally ready to talk.”

Carmen walked inside and began crying right away. Seeing her cry like that brought back memories of my littler sister at five, six, seven years old, running to me in tears and seeking comfort. I instinctively opened my arms.

Aiko was right. They were all right.

•   •   •

I
forgave Carmen, but as the days progressed I fell into a funky malaise where I couldn't seem to gain any sense of momentum or purpose. After all, I was officially a two-time loser. As Jake put it, I'd been cuckolded, and not once, but twice. What was wrong with me? And to top it off, I had no baby! My eggs were just as old and shriveled and untouched as they were the day before I met He Who Shall Not Be Mentioned. I didn't understand what was going on with my life. And I missed Dad. I missed him so much.

I was telling all of this—okay, I was
whining
—to Bendrix and Anthony over breakfast. This would be our third meal together within two weeks. Bendrix was trying to cheer me up by keeping me company. But I felt much like I had after Avery and I had split: I didn't want to do much more than sleep and think of ways to sell the bakery so I could disappear.

“What's wrong with me? Why do I have such horrible luck with men?” I asked.

Bendrix sighed loudly. He was tired of my melodrama. “I don't know, but you certainly have a knack for self-pity.” He started clearing the breakfast plates from the table.

Anthony stayed seated. Trained counselor extraordinaire, he was used to people's whining. “Life is trying to tell you something, Abbey, and now is the time to listen.”

“But what is life trying to tell me? Listen to what?”

Bendrix walked in and picked up the pitcher of orange juice. “Listen to yourself whine and complain like you're the only person in the world with a problem. If you want to see a problem, come to the hospital with me.”

Anthony quipped, “Your job at the hospital has nothing to do with the hurt Abbey is experiencing.”

“Yeah!” I said over my shoulder.

Bendrix rolled his eyes and left.

“You've been blaming men for your problems, but
you
chose both Samuel and Avery. That's the point I'm trying to get you to see.”

His comment gave me pause. I was saved from answering when Bendrix returned with his laptop. “Look at this.” He'd pulled up an old photo of Benz and Ross standing in front of one of our graffiti pieces. “Big deal, your soon-to-be ex-husband was an ass. It happens. That girl there, however, would move on.”

I took in the picture and our artwork. We'd been hired to paint the sidewall of a surfboard shop and had made a school of fish with a surfer holding a paintbrush and painting the wall while riding on top of a whale. We were posed in front of the camera in our “hip” clothes—a flannel shirt and acid-washed jeans for me and overalls for Bendrix. Anthony laughed. “Baby, how did you get your hair to flop over your eye like that?!”

“We were the height of cool,” I said defensively.

“It didn't get any cooler than Benz and Ross,” Bendrix added.

We bumped our fists together.
“Word.”

It was the first time I'd smiled in days.

•   •   •

W
ith a start, I sat up in bed later that night. Someone was ringing the doorbell. I checked the time. Two a.m. I reached for my phone, ready to call the police, but then I heard someone calling my name from under my bedroom window.

“Bendrix?”

“Yes, open the door.”

“It's two in the morning.”

“I know that. Open the door and I'll explain.”

He walked inside carrying two paper bags.

“What's going on?”

“I've come up with a plan.”

“Fabulous.”

I sat on my couch and rested my head against my hand.

“Don't you want to know more?”

“Not really. I'd rather sleep.”

“Well, that's not going to happen. We have to leave soon.”

“Great.”

He put the two bags on the coffee table. Finally I noticed the old pair of jeans and worn T-shirt he had on. He wasn't his usual dapper self at all; in fact, he looked ready for the streets.

“What the hell is going on?”

He started taking things from the bag one at a time—cans of spray paint, surgical masks, gloves—all the paraphernalia we used back in the day.

After emptying the bag, he clapped his hands. “Let's make some graffiti. Benz and Ross, what do you say?”

“I say—
have you lost your mind
?”

He walked over and held me by the shoulders. “Abbey, listen to me. You might never have a kid.”

“Wow, thanks, I like where this is headed.”

“I'm trying to say, I'm glad you tried with Samuel, and I'm sorry it didn't work out, but there's no sense in going backward. So what if it ended badly? Things end badly. So what if you never have a kid? That might not happen. But you can't give up again.”

“But my life sucks!”

“I am so tired of listening to you whine,” he moaned. “Listen,
I put all this together to help you remember who the hell you are. You're not a woman who's afraid of life. This is your wake-up call.” He donned a 1980s rapper's pose. “Bee-atch.”

“Are you high?”

He threw up his hands. “I'm here to help, Abbey. When I tried to convince you to start dating again, I was trying to push you out of your shell. I'm not going to watch you go back because of one ass.”

“Two. There've been two.”

“Two. Three. Whatever. Like I said earlier today, that girl in the picture wouldn't have given a shit. She was ready to live. Man or no man.”

I sulked. “You've been hanging around Anthony too long.”