Cosmo's Deli (24 page)

***

The message light blinks as Renny stumbles into the kitchen. She sinks into a chair and throws her keys on the counter, where they skid across and land next to the flashing light.

The thought of his hands reaching under her dress makes bile rise in her throat. She reaches for the answering machine, anything to distract her thoughts.

“Hey, it's Lucy.” The blaring music at Meltdown is unmistakable in the background. “I tried to find you. Lightening Bolt finally came back and let me upstairs. Anyway, call me tomorrow with details. I can't wait to hear.”

The next message begins. “It's Marty Toezoff. I know you said you had plans, but I thought I'd call in case your plans fell through. Anyway, I'm at Bear Grunt. It's a little after nine and we'll probably be here ‘til well after midnight. If you get in, grab a cab and come over. If not, I'll see you tomorrow at eleven.” God, he sounds even more desperate than I am. Renny decides to blow off their brunch date and swear off men until the next millenium.

She turns up the volume on the machine, straining to hear the weak-shaky voice that follows Marty's message. “Don't freak. It's not like I really OD'd or anything.” It's Gaby, Renny realizes. “But, I'm at Margate Hospital, room 1340, there's a direct number. Oh shit, it's not turned on yet. Anyway, call the main number. It's 555-4566. I'll try and call you again later. I'm on my cell and,” her voice trails off, “yeah, yeah, I'll turn it off.” She comes back, “I gotta hang up. Who knew you can't use a cell phone in a hospital?”

Renny grabs her purse and is out the door as Gaby's message ends.

***

A cab pulls up as Renny gets to the curb. The door opens and out steps Georgie. “I know what he did,” he says, standing in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Renny holds the cab door. “Just a minute,” she tells the driver. “Which okay are we talking about,” she wipes at her eyes, “the OKAY that your asshole partner attacked me or the OKAY that you're back with Tawney?”

“Listen, I know you're upset.” He takes her hand. “I told Rockin' who you were because I was jealous. I couldn't stand the thought of the two of you together. I shouldn't have told him. He's a dick with women. What were you doing with him anyway?”

“I was looking for you. It's the only way I could get into the VIP room.” She pushes his hand away. “We had a date! Or have you selectively forgotten that you dumped me?”

“I didn't dump you. Something came up.”

“Something named Tawney?”

“I told you we're friends. It's just publicity…career shit.”

“Bullshit! My friend saw you with with her last night at Giggles.”

Georgie looks away. “Things are complicated for me.”

“Just say it! You're back together with her.”

“You don't understand. I've tried to end it. But it's going to take some time. The public is used to us together. I can't just dump her for…” He stops.

“For me, right? Say it. For a nobody like me! That's what you were going to say, isn't it?”

“It's not like that. We can still see each other. I still want to see you.”

Renny aches to believe him, to fall into those arms again and be held, to cry about what happened yesterday, today and tonight. But he wants me to be the Other. And after all the shitty, short relationships, the one thing she has never been is that. Sara appears in her mind like a vision. A family in ruins because of Bart and his Other. Renny's voice quivers, “It won't work,”

“Sure it will.” He leans in. “Come upstairs and I'll show you how.”

“My friend's in the hospital. I have to get there.”

“Come on,” Georgie purrs in her ear. “Forget about your friend. She's messed up. Let it go and come upstairs with me.” He kisses her neck, numbing her reservations, peck-by-peck. But her doubt-spangled thoughts transport her beyond desire and this sidewalk to the inevitable future—nights waiting by the phone, calls that never come and watching him steal from her bed in the dark to go home to Tawney.

She shakes her head, loosening a tear. “I can't. Not like this. I can't be your thing on the side.”

He throws up his hands. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under?”

Renny wipes her face. “Everyone has pressure. I have pressure. You may not think it's much, but to me it is! You have to give us a chance. Us. It's a harmless-two-letter word. It doesn't have to be so complicated.”

“I never promised you that.”

“You're right,” Renny says, “but you let me believe. You gave me just enough to keep me coming back.”

“Hey, we were both having fun!”

For the second time that night ‘Fun' assaults Renny's ears. “Is that all it was? Because you know what? To me it felt like more. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but we slept together.”

“Why does that have to mean everything?”

“It doesn't, but I'm so tired of it not meaning anything.”

His voice is hard. “Well it doesn't mean I have to be shackled to just you for the rest of my life.”

How did I not see this side of him, she wonders? Did he conceal it, or did I choose to be blind and dumb? “I thought we had something.”

His lips curl into a small condescending smile. “We had a good fuck.”

Her hand ricochets off his cheek. “We had a great fuck!” Jumping into the cab, she pauses to look at him, the shock of her slap still on his face. “You're really an asshole.” As the cab pulls away, Renny shakes the sting from her aching hand.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Oncology. Surgery. Inpatient. Outpatient. Renny wanders through the hospital's white fluorescent-lit hallways, where all the arrows seemingly point her in the same direction—a big circle that leads to the cafeteria and gift shop.

“Where the hell is Gaby's room?” Renny mutters. Walking through the hospital hallways Renny realizes that her mother was right. She is a much better friend than she is a daughter. That can change—will change. She peers in the cafeteria just as one of the doors swings open and a couple steps out.

“Renny?” The woman says.

“Hi!” Renny answers, immediately recognizing Sara's mother.

“Sara's going to be so glad to see you,” Sara's father says.

It takes a moment for the pieces to fall in place in Renny's mind. “Oh my god! Sara had the baby. What'd she have?”

“It's a boy,” Sara's mother beams.

“Big. Almost eight pounds,” her father brags.

“Is she okay?” Renny asks.

“Fine,” Sara's mother wears a brim of worry lines across her brow that contradicts her words. “Although it was a little crazy with Bart being hit? But he should be okay too.”

“Bart?”

She pats Renny's arm. “It's a long story. I'm sure Sara will tell you. Come, it's late. I'll walk you to her room. We'll tell the nurse you're her sister.” She calls over her shoulder to her husband, “Dear, go get the car and pull it around while I walk Renny over.”

***

“What are you doing here?” Sara says, with a smile so warm it could melt a glacier. She is propped up in bed, wearing pale yellow pajamas adorned with pictures of enough sushi for a super deluxe platter. Her arms cradle a baby-loaded blanket, which allows only a fraction of pink skin to peek out beneath a striped cap and swaddling.

“I'll let you girls visit,” Sara's mother says, coming up close to the bed. She leans close to the baby. “Your grandfather's bringing the car around and you know how he is about double parking in the city.” She tells Sara, “We'll bring Megan in the morning.” She airmails two kisses from the door and leaves.

“Thanks, Mom,” Sara calls and then waves to Renny. “Did you get my message?”

“Not exactly.”

Sara appears puzzled but then pats the bed. “Come see my son.”

Renny steps lightly toward the bed as though the floor would splinter if she did otherwise. Perching one butt cheek on the bed, she keeps her weight balanced on the floor, fearing that if she rocks the bed the baby may break.

But Sara yanks her closer. “It's okay to sit on the bed you know. We're not made of glass.”

Up close Renny is struck by how little the baby is. His nose looks like an upside-down heart shaped button resting under slitted eyes and atop full-pursed lips. Sara coos at him in a pitch that must stir from the hormones of motherhood.

Renny drinks in the picture and can't help admiring her friend. Even fresh from childbirth, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and not a stitch of make-up, Sara is still breathtaking. Her eyes, infused with awe, glow as though fairies really did exist and have dusted her with their magic.

“Isn't he something?” Sara asks, just as a tiny pink hand escapes from the swaddling and waves about frantically. His baby noises oscillate, but a moment later he is back asleep, his little hand resting on top of the blanket.

“What'd you name him?”

“Ethan.” Sara carefully tucks his arm back in.

“Great name.”

“Did my mother tell you about Bart?”

“That he got hit? Did you hit him?”

“No. It's actually crazier than that.” Sara's grip tightens on her bundle. “I'll tell you. Just give me a hand first.”

With Renny's support, Sara hoists herself from the bed and lays the bundle in the clear bassinet next to the bed. A deep sigh accompanied by an involuntary shudder rocks his tiny body, yet does nothing to disturb the grip of newborn slumber.

Back in bed, Sara recounts her morning to Renny. Like an old woman in a rocker spinning tales of decades long gone, the words fall out slowly and are punctuated with far off looks. “He lost so much blood. It was everywhere—on the sidewalk, on me. I thought he was dead. In the ambulance, it was crazy. There I am, gushing all over the floor, crying, screaming. And Bart, unconscious and soaked in blood. The EMS guy kept telling me that head injuries can bleed a lot and that they often look much worse than they are. He was right. Bart has a concussion and a few broken bones, but he'll be fine.”

“That's unbelievable.”

“I know.” Sara looks as though she still can't believe it.

“Did you two talk at all?” Renny asks.

“A little. After the baby was born and they'd patched him up, a nurse wheeled him in here for a few minutes. He told me he's been driving out to Megan's preschool a few times a week. He sits in his car and watches her on the playground. He said he parked by the house a couple times too, just to see us go in and out.”

“What about,” Renny emphasizes, “HER?”

“He said the day I saw him by your building, that they'd just ended it. Or specifically, he ended it. He made it a point of letting me know it went down that way. I don't know if I should believe him?”

“Where's he living now?”

“At his parent's. When I yelled to him on the street, he said he just wasn't ready for the confrontation yet.”

“Does he want to come back?”

“He says he does.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. I love him,” she says, her voice creaking like old floorboards bearing up under a heavy load. “But is that enough? Because I don't trust him. I'm just, I'm tired. I never told you this, but it's not the first time he's cheated on me.”

“Oh Sara, how come you didn't tell me?” Renny asks.

“I was embarrassed. I didn't tell anyone. It happened right before we got engaged.”

“You could have told me.”

“I know. But then he proposed. I just wanted to leave it behind like it never happened. We never talked about it. To trust him again, I told myself he was just scared, and we weren't married yet. Once we were he wouldn't do that. What an idiot I am.”

“You're not an idiot.”

“We had a lot of good years in between. At least I thought we did. Only this time he didn't just cheat on me. He cheated on us.” Sara's eyes sway toward Ethan, asleep in his bassinet. “I don't know if there haven't been others? There could have been. I'm terrified of having my heart ripped out again. How do we build back trust with that?”

Ethan whimpers and Sara retrieves him, reflexively rocking him, the motion seducing him back to sleep. “I know I can trust this though.” She kisses his tiny hand. “Do you think things will ever be normal again for me?”

“People make their own normal,” Renny says.

After a long pause, Sara says, “We were unhappy the last year. Maybe normal for me is this—just my kids and me. What do you think?”

Renny drinks in the sight of Sara holding her son and the photo of Megan propped in the bassinet. “I think that you're lucky.”

“Yeah.” Sara beams at Ethan. “I guess in some ways I am.”

An easy stillness rests between them as Renny watches Sara rock her newborn.

“So if you didn't get my message, how'd you know I was here?” Sara asks.

“I got a message from Gaby. She's here too, but I couldn't find her room and then I ran into your parents.”

“I don't understand.”

“She kind of…well I'm not sure. But she left me a message that she took some Valium. Too much Valium.”

“Is she all right?” Sara's voice rises in alarm.

“I don't know. I was trying to find her room when I ran into your Mom.”

“What room is she in?”

“1340.” Renny gets up. “I should go find her.”

“That's in the other wing. Bart's there, too. I'll put on my robe and go with you.”

“You just had a baby. You can't go walking all over the hospital.”

“I'm fine. We'll just go slow. Here.” She offers the baby to Renny.

“Huh?”

Sara smiles. “Just for a minute. I want to put on my robe.”

Renny's mind races, as Sara arranges the baby in her arms. What if I accidentally hurt him, she thinks, or hold him too tight? What if he cries? Renny's never been one of those “oh my god, there's a baby” women with arms outstretched, ready to scoop. She likes babies. She just prefers to politely admire them from afar. With Ethan resting against her upper arm, she studies the sensation. Heavy. Warm. It. He, she reminds herself. Renny runs a finger gently across Ethan's pink crescent cheek. What do you know, she thinks with amazement, baby soft is more than a tagline.

“Okay, I'm ready,” Sara says, her arms outstretched.

And with a momentary reluctance, Renny forfeits the bundle back to his mother. “Sure.”

***

“Come in,” Gaby's hoarse voice calls out, after a knock on the door.

Renny and Sara walk in, finding Gaby in bed with a man lounging in a chair next her. He is dressed in jeans and a dark tee-shirt, quite obviously not a doctor.

Gaby's face brightens. “Hey.”

They hesitate just inside the door. “Hi,” Renny says.

“How are you feeling?” Sara asks.

“Okay. What are? Oh my! Y'all had the baby, didn't you?”

Sara nods.

“What did you have?” Gaby asks.

“A boy,” Sara says, her face glowing.

Gaby smiles. “That's great.”

“It's late,” the man says, taking her hand. “I'm going to take off.”

“Sure,” Gaby says. “Hey Todd, these are my girls, Renny and Sara. This is Todd.”

“Gaby's been telling me all about you two.” He smiles, “It's nice to meet you.”

They both nod.

“I'll see you in the morning,” he tells Gaby, a lazy smirk spreading across his stubble-shadowed face. “Let me see if I've got the breakfast order right—EJ's Luncheonette, strawberry waffles, side of bacon, hash browns, coffee—black.”

Gaby winks, “Make sure they give you extra syrup.” She tells Renny and Sara, “I detest hospital food.”

He gives her hand a squeeze that shoots a shine over her face as if his fingers were IV bags with alchemic powers. “Nice meeting you both,” he says before turning and wagging at Gaby. “Rest.”

“Yes, sir,” she tells him. Once he's gone, she waves to Sara and Renny. “Get over here you two.”

They don't move.

“Come on. It's okay. It's not like what I got is contagious. You don't catch crazy.”

They join her, flanking each side of the bed. Renny notices that despite the pastiness of her skin and the circles under her eyes, Gaby appears more like her old effervescent self than she has in months, replete with a handsome escort. “Gaby, only you get to OD with a hottie.”

“He is cute, isn't he?” Gaby says, with a wink.

“I know,” Gaby nods. “But Todd is part of a long, long story.”

“You didn't?” Renny motions with her hand.

Gaby shakes her head. “No, not with him. But I might keep him around for a tickle in the future. Nothin' serious, you know,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye that is the most Gaby-like way she's gestured in months. “I'm so glad to see you.”

Sara takes her hand, “You didn't really try to…”

“Noooo!” she says. “I accidentally took too many and they knocked me out good. It didn't help that I'd been drinkin'. At least that's what the emergency room doc told Todd.”

“How many did you take?” Renny asks.

“I don't even know. I was pretty out of it by then.” Gaby talks them through her downward spiral, Annette, Stan and Griffin. “I felt vile after I left his place. There's been so much ugly swimmin' in my head. When I got home I couldn't sleep. So I sprinkled a whole bunch of pills in my hand.”

“How did you get here?” Sara and Renny ask together, their words tripping over each other.

Either Gaby didn't hear the question or she just decided to ignore it, instead chugging along with her own train of thought. Her eyes turn vacant and her voice is barely above a whisper. “Before Mama, I always believed that there was something out there after you die. That you get to watch the action and intervene if you think a loved one needs it.”

“Life as one big interactive theatre,” Renny suggests.

“Exactly.” Gaby's eyes blaze.

Renny nods as if this revelation is something new to her, even though she has long known that Gaby possesses many offbeat theories, this just being one of them.

“That's a good way to think of it,” Sara adds.

“Yeah, but when Mama passed,” Gaby says, “I expected to feel, I don't know what. Something though that would let me know she was still here. But there was nothing. It was like someone snatched her away. And I wanted so badly to feel her still with me. But she wasn't, at least not that I could tell.” She turns sardonic, “And of course everyone's got their two cents of advice. They mean well, but it's all bull, because nobody knows what's what. My aunts with their “bless your heart” Southern answer to everything. And if one more person told me I have my memories I thought I would just crumble up and blow away with the wind. I guess when people don't know what to say, they spit out whatever seems safe. Memories and blessings. But all memories aren't a blessing, that's for sure. For me, the ones I was least proud of were the ones that would pop into my head. Like the times I couldn't put my busy life on hold long enough to take notice of Mama.”

“Isn't that just what daughters do to their mothers? We all do that,” Renny says, justifying for Gaby as well as herself.

“She's right,” Sara adds. “You have to move past that. Your mother loved you, Gaby, and she knew that you loved her.”