Authors: Pamela Grandstaff
“What are you doing, nowadays?” Georgia asked her.
“Looking for a job,” Claire said. “I applied for an
associate professor position in the theater arts department at Eldridge, but I
haven’t heard back yet.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” Georgia said.
“They tend to hire alumni for professorial positions and keep the townies in
lowly staff positions.”
“I’m well qualified for the job,” Claire said. “I went to a
professional theater arts school and have hair and makeup experience in theater
and film.”
“But who are your parents and where did you get that
degree?” Georgia asked. “That’s all they care about over there.”
“I’ve been hired,” Ed said. “My father wasn’t rich and I
grew up below Rose Hill Avenue.”
“But you graduated from The Annenberg School of
Communication at the University of Pennsylvania,” Georgia said. “That makes a
huge difference.”
“And you’re a man,” Dottie said. “Don’t look at me like
that; I didn’t invent sexual discrimination, I just testify to its pernicious
infestation, like knotweed. And look what they’re getting in the bargain: the
Sentinel
and your cheap labor.”
“I think Claire will get the job,” Ed said.
“From your mouth to the college president’s ear,” Georgia
said, but she didn’t look optimistic.
“What are you working on?” Kay asked Georgia. “You’re always
busy researching something or other.”
“Addiction,” Georgia said.
“A timely subject,” Ed said. “There’s an epidemic of opiate
addiction in Pine County right now. There were more fatal overdoses from heroin
this year than altogether in the last ten.”
“It’s cheaper than OxyContin and easier to get,” Laurie
said.
“There’s been a surge in the number of break-ins and
robberies as well,” Ed said.
“And more meth labs and crack houses,” Laurie said.
“What do you do with your research?” Claire asked.
“I learn from it,” Georgia said, “and then I bore other
people with it.”
“It was neurological medical research last year,” Dottie
said. “I know more about Oliver Sacks than his own mother.”
“I’d be interested to hear what you’ve learned,” Ed said.
“I, myself, am completely addicted to the Internet. It’s scary to me how fast
news is disseminated, especially when it’s inaccurate and inflammatory.”
“There are several schools of thought,” Georgia said. “You
won’t be surprised to learn they each relate to the physical, mental, and
spiritual state of a person.”
“I thought it was established that addiction is an illness,”
Kay said.
“But is it a mental or a physical illness?” Georgia asked.
“Could it be both?” Kay asked.
“Possibly,” Georgia said.
“Tell them about the discarnates,” Dottie said. “It’s
amazing to me what people come up with.”
“Later,” Georgia said. “Some researchers believe addiction
begins as a reaction to a mental state, but quickly becomes physical through an
adaptation of brain chemistry. Conversely, there’s also research indicating
that individuals can be born with addiction-prone brain chemistry, and the
mental processes then adapt to that.”
“Which came first, the junkie chicken or its egg?” Ed asked.
“Is light a wave or a particle?” Laurie asked. “I believe
the answer to that question turned out to be ‘whatever gets the job done.’ ”
“Exactly,” Georgia said. “Put simply, addiction is the
insatiable craving for something that temporarily fulfills a need, whether
that’s for pleasure, escape, or relief from physical, mental, or psychic pain. When
under the influence of the addictive substance or behavior, the addict finds relief
from feeling, perceiving, or remembering the addiction stimulus. Ultimately,
however, the addictive experience does not nourish the mind, body, or soul in
any meaningful, lasting way.”
“Can anything?” Laurie asked.
“Good question,” Georgia said, and then nodded at him with a
compassionate look on her face.
“What about spiritual nourishment?” Kay asked.
“That’s another addictive substance, if you ask me,” Laurie
asked. “The story is we’re watched over by some omnificent being, but where’s
this cosmic Santa Claus when we need him? Plenty of horrible things happen to
innocent people, and plenty of evil hoodlums live long, wealthy lives. Hard to
believe it can be real.”
“Is anything real?” Georgia said. “How would we even know?”
“That’s too existential for me,” Kay said.
“It’s a question of faith,” Sonny said. “It seems to me you
gotta believe in something or what’s the point?”
“How do you keep believing in God’s infinite love when bad
things happen?” Dottie asked. “That’s when faith is tested.”
“We’re supposed to accept that there are some things we just
can’t understand,” Sonny said. “Only God knows the reason.”
“Further along we’ll know all about it,” Georgia sang, and
then Dottie joined in,
“Further along we’ll understand why.
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine;
We’ll understand it, oh by and by.”
“You two could take your show on the road,” Sonny said.
“You’re good.”
“So basically people get addicted because something hurts,
or is missing inside,” Ed said.
“Or outside,” Laurie said.
“Or just perceived to be missing,” Dottie said.
“Anything that causes pain,” Georgia said. “Physical, mental,
or existential.”
“If you think you’ve got a reason to be depressed, you will
be, whether it’s true or not,” Ed said.
“It can be anything,” Georgia said. “Or it can be
everything; a tipping point is reached, and pain, sadness, anger, guilt, or
shame overwhelm the mind.”
“Isn’t guilt the same thing as shame?” Claire asked.
“Guilt is about things you’ve done or failed to do,” Georgia
said. “Shame is about who you are.”
“Pain, sadness, anger, guilt, and shame,” Laurie said. “The
Royal Flush of addiction.”
“Some folks’ll do anything to escape their feelings,” Dottie
said.
“Even if it’s only a temporary distraction,” Claire said.
“Like shopping.”
“Or web surfing,” Ed said as he raised his hand.
“Or television,” Sonny said, raising his.
“Or eating,” Kay said, raising her fork.
“Or gossip,” Dottie said, and pointed to herself.
“Or research,” Georgia said.
“Or adrenaline rushes,” Laurie said. “I mean, I’ve heard
that can happen.”
“So how can any of it be treated?” Ed said. “It seems like
drug addiction is almost impossible to beat.”
“It’s tough,” Georgia said. “Especially when complicated by
socio-economic conditions that are less than favorable.”
“The what are what?” Claire asked.
“When you’re poor, sweetie,” Kay said. “Everything’s harder
when you’re poor.”
“This is a depressing subject,” Dottie said. “Tell them
about the discarnates and then let’s talk about something else.”
“Discarnates,” Claire said.
“There is an esoteric line of thought, that I do not agree
with, by the way,” Georgia said. “But it is interesting. Some folks believe
that the world is full of discarnate entities …”
“Ghosts,” Dottie said.
“Spirits,” Georgia said. “These entities are supposedly all
around us, some mischievous, some helpful, some benign …”
“Because they don’t know they’re dead,” Dottie said.
“Or they don’t want to move on, to, well, wherever,” Georgia
said. “The belief is that if a living person is weak or incapacitated in some
way, one of these spirits can attach itself to that person and influence their
behavior so that the entity can experience something it enjoyed while
incarnate.”
“Hungry ghosts,” Laurie said. “That’s a Buddhist concept,
isn’t it?”
“Very good, Laurie,” Georgia said. “You are correct.”
“Sounds like demonic possession,” Sonny said.
“But the word ‘demonic’ connotes evil,” Georgia said. “We’re
just talking about random lost spirits who used to be human and miss having sex
or getting drunk.”
“I think that’s just a way to avoid taking responsibility,”
Ed said. “Anyone can say the devil made me do it, or discarnates made me do it,
or my disease made me do it. It’s just denying that the addiction is your
responsibility, that you have some accountability.”
“Ultimately, addiction is not a moral issue,” Georgia said,
and was rewarded with a chorus of disagreement. “Now, hear me out. The fallout
from addiction often has negative consequences, but the physical, mental, or
spiritual need to experience something in order to relieve suffering is just a
human imperative.”
“In other words, we are all addicted to something,” Dottie
said. “So we should all have compassion.”
“Love can be an addiction,” Claire said
She seemed surprised to find she had spoken her thoughts
aloud, and blushed.
“It can indeed,” Georgia said, and patted Claire’s hand.
“My mother told me this years ago,” Dottie said.
“Oh no, here we go,” Georgia said.
“Shush,” Dottie said. “Love is caring plus competence.”
“You can’t stop her once she gets started,” Georgia said.
“Leave me alone,” Dottie said. “You’ve been talking since we
sat down.”
“Go on,” Claire said. “I want to hear this.”
“Any two blockheads can have romantic or sexual attraction,”
Dottie said. “The real deal is caring for someone over the long haul, after the
sexy stuff is, not gone, exactly, but let’s just say it’s not as strong as it
used to be. That’s when putting someone else’s needs ahead of your own is more
important than a dozen roses.”
“That comes with maturity,” Kay said.
“Or when you have children,” Sonny said.
“That’s the caring part,” Dottie said. “Competence is having
the wisdom to care in a healthy way. That means treating your loved ones with
respect, and requiring you be treated with respect. It means you accept human
flaws but don’t enable destructive behavior. It means you don’t spoil your
kids; you teach them how to care with competence. It also means not giving in
to the demands of your loved one to the point where you’re sacrificing your own
well-being.”
“I wish they’d teach that in school,” Georgia said. “It’s
more important than arithmetic, as far as I’m concerned.”
“What about the husbands and wives of self-destructive
people?” Sonny asked. “How can they be caring and competent and stay married?”
“Sometimes you can’t,” Dottie said. “You shouldn’t stay in a
marriage to the point it causes harm to yourself or your children. Sometimes
the most competent, caring thing you can do is remove yourself from a situation
that is no longer healthy, that you can tell is not going to get any better.”
“Tell that to the Pope,” Sonny said.
“My discarnate wants more mashed potatoes,” Laurie said.
“Will you pass them, please?”
“New topic!” Georgia said. “Kay, what’s going on with your
campaign?”
Dinner was a success as far as her guests’ appreciation of
the food went, and Dottie and Georgia did their part to entertain everyone. Now
Dottie was telling stories about her grandkids.
“So then little Jessie says, ‘That was too much tater and
not enough tot, Mamaw,’ ” Dottie said. “Can you believe that little punkin’?
He’s only five.”
After Georgia told a story about an elderly couple she knew
who were taking ballroom dancing lessons, Laurie said to Claire, “You’re quite
an accomplished dancer, yourself, aren’t you, Claire?”
Claire blushed, and then said, “I don’t know why you would
think that,” before abruptly changing the subject.
Laurie smiled in amusement and Kay noted that Ed didn’t seem
to notice the exchange.
After they discussed the phenomena of having songs stuck in
their heads, Laurie brought up the subject of favorite songs, said his was
“Claire de Lune” by Debussy, and asked each person at the table to name their
favorite. When he got to Claire, she said, “I don’t have a favorite.”
Laurie turned to Ed.
“Surely you know Claire’s favorite song, Ed.”
“Nope,” Ed said. “I’m sorry to say I don’t.”
“If I were you, I’d make it a point to find out what it is,
and then dance with her while it plays,” Laurie said. “That’s what I’d do,
anyway, if she were my sweetheart.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Claire said. “What a silly thing to
say. Kay, let’s eat that delicious looking pie you’ve got in the kitchen. You
sit still. I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll help you,” Laurie said, and jumped up to follow her
into the kitchen.
There was no doubt in Kay’s mind that there was something
going on between Laurie and Claire. She could also plainly see that poor Ed
hadn’t a clue.
Kay made a point of asking Claire to stay behind when
everyone began to make noises about leaving. After everyone else had gone,
Claire carried dishes to the kitchen while Kay filled the sink with hot sudsy
water and put on some rubber gloves.
“Everything was so good,” Claire said. “I feel like I’ve
gained five pounds.”
“You could use it,” Kay said. “You’re looking a little
peaked. Are you still having bouts of nausea and dizziness?”
“Yes, but I’m not pregnant,” Claire said. “I’ve peed on
about ten dozen of those test sticks and they all say the same thing: I’m
getting old so it must be menopause.”
“Forty is not old.”
“I’m still thirty-nine for another two weeks, thank you very
much.”
“Did you go to the doctor?”
“I saw Doc Machalvie, who thinks it’s probably just stress,
but he wants me to go to a specialist in Morgantown,” Claire said. “Before you
say anything, I promise that as soon as my mother gets back I will.”
“Have you heard from them?”
“They’re having a blast, apparently,” Claire said. “Hannah
said even Aunt Bonnie was having a good time, and cooking every meal. She
doesn’t see why they should waste good money going out to eat when there are
grocery stores full of anything you could possibly want.”
“How’re the men holding up?”
“Scott and Sean are taking Hannah’s dad and Maggie’s dad
fishing on the pier every day, so they’re as happy as clams. My mom, Aunt
Bonnie, Maggie, and Hannah are all taking turns keeping an eye on little Sammy,
and you know that’s a full-time job. He likes to fling himself in the deep end
of the pool and run right into the ocean. That child has no fear of water
except at bath time. Scott’s going to teach him to swim before they come home.”
“What about Hannah’s mother?”
“Aunt Alice relaxes on the beach all morning, naps in her
bedroom all afternoon, and then reclines in a lawn chair on the veranda all
evening. She has to take her ‘nerve pills,’ of course, and they make her
sleepy.”
“Do you think there’s anything actually wrong with Alice?”
“She’s had every medical test there is and no one can find
anything physically wrong with her. When we were growing up she was always
dumping her kids on Aunt Bonnie or my mom. It’s like she can’t cope with real
life.”
“She’s always been an introverted kind of person; hard to
get to know.”
“She’s my aunt and I love her but she’s a difficult person
to be around.”
“I was surprised Maggie and Scott invited everyone down
there. Everything all right?”
“Maggie said they’ve had a great time; they were just
getting homesick. Hannah invited herself down and before you knew it they were
renting a van and taking everybody.”
“Well, not you, Patrick, or Melissa.”
“Somebody’s got to run the family businesses, take care of
all the pets, and I have to look after Dad. Mom needed a vacation more than
anyone.”
“As long as I’m stirring up trouble,” Kay said. “What’s
going on between you and Laurie?”
Claire’s face flushed and had the guiltiest look.
“Oh my,” Kay said. “You better tell me about it so I don’t
invite you both to dinner again.”
“It’s so stupid,” Claire said. “Stupid of me, that is. You
know after Maggie and Scott’s wedding I got caught up in that awful FBI thing
with Knox and Anne Marie.”
“You must have been scared to death,” Kay said. “I’m not
sure if the federal agents are making things better or worse.”
“After Sean and I got back from the State Park, everyone had
already left the party at the Rose and Thorn. We missed the whole thing. I was
too wound up to go home, and Patrick was worn out, so I offered to bartend for
him until closing. There were just a few locals left, you know, Pudge and his
pals, and someone I didn’t know was sitting down at the end of the bar. Patrick
said if anyone gave me any trouble I should ask him for help, that he was a
good guy.”
“Laurie?”
“Uh huh.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing much. He teased me about the mud on my shirt and my
scraped knees, and tried to guess what I did for a living by reading my palm.”
“He flirted with you,” Kay said. “No harm in that.”
“We talked a while, and then we danced a little.”
“Which is what he was alluding to at dinner.”
“It was my favorite song, you see,” Claire said. “Chris
Isaac’s ‘Wicked Game.’ Do you know it?”
“I do,” Kay said. “Kind of dark but terribly romantic.”
“We danced, he walked me home, we looked at the moon; it was
that big moon we had in June, the whatsit?”
“Super moon.”
“That’s the one,” Claire said. “He kissed my hand and then
later sent me a text with a link to “Claire De Lune,” by Debussy.”
“Which he also worked into the conversation tonight.”
“He’s torturing me.”
“He’s got a crush on you,” Kay said. “But he knows you’re
dating Ed so he won’t take it any further.”
“Except on the walk home that night I may have shared a few
doubts I have on that subject.”
“You have doubts about Ed?”
“I have a personality disorder,” Claire said. “I have one
perfectly lovely almost-boyfriend who is a stand-up, dependable man, and yet I
would risk that for a recently divorced widower cop with a drinking problem.”
“You must have heard gossip about that.”
“Please,” Claire said. “I grew up with a cop for a father in
a family that owns a bar. I know all the signs. Plus, he as much as told me.”
“His first wife was a lovely woman.”
“So he said.”
“He was devastated when she died.”
“So much so that he dove into a bottle and came back up with
wife number two.”
“Daphne,” Kay said. “She’s way too young for him, and
cheated on him with his best friend, who also worked for him.”
“So he quit rather than fire the guy.”
“He was honest with me when I interviewed him for the temp
job,” Kay said. “He assured me he had his drinking under control.”
“Maybe he does,” Claire said. “I’ve been avoiding him since
that night. He didn’t tell me he was a policeman or that he was subbing for
Scott. He said he was starting a new job in a month, working for the city of
Pendleton.”
“Which wasn’t a lie.”
“You’re defending him.”
“I hired him,” Kay said, “and that was all true.”
“If he had said what he did for a living, I would not have
continued to flirt with him.”
“What concerns me most are these reservations you have about
Ed.”
“Ed is still married to Eve.”
“Legally, maybe, but they haven’t lived together for over a
decade,” Kay said. “Everybody knows that.”
“I didn’t know until right before Maggie’s wedding.”
“Doesn’t Eve live in Atlanta?”
“She works for a 24-hour news channel now, so she’s headed
this way to cover the FBI investigation. Ed says Congressman Green and Senator
Bayard are involved so it’s a national news story.”
“I’ve never met her,” Kay said. “I hear she’s very pretty.”
“I hate her already,” Claire said. “The bottom line is Ed’s
not an option until he’s legally divorced and I know she’s out of his life for
good.”
“But what about Laurie?”
“I’ve given myself a thorough talking-to on that subject,
every day for three weeks. I just have to take myself firmly by the hand and
lead myself away from danger. I can do it if I keep focused and stay away from
him. In only one more week he’ll be gone.”
“Pendleton’s not that far away.”
“He won’t have any reason to come back here, and I’ve made
it clear that I have no interest in getting involved with him.”
“He’s infatuated,” Kay said. “It almost doesn’t matter what
you say when someone feels that way.”
“Any two blockheads,” Claire said. “Isn’t that what Dottie
said?”
“He’s a good man,” Kay said. “He and his first wife had one
of those caring, competent marriages.”
“Speaking of good men,” Claire said. “I saw Sonny giving you
the adoring looks over dinner. That man is sweet on you.”
“Nonsense,” Kay said. “He’s just being kind to an old family
friend.”
“He’s single and ready to mingle,” Claire said.
“Hush,” Kay said. “He’s just a good friend.”
“He’d be perfect for you,” Claire said. “He’s a big ole
handy man who can see to things around here, and I don’t just mean the house.”
“Stop it,” Kay said. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
But secretly, Kay hoped it did.
Earlier, Claire had been unhappy to find Laurie had followed
her into the kitchen to get dessert.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“I’m attempting to talk to you alone, which is the last
thing you want, if the past few weeks are any indication. It’s enough to make a
man feel unwanted. It’s lowering my already rock bottom self-esteem.”
“There’s nothing to say,” Claire said. “You’re leaving in a
week and whatever happened between us is not going to be repeated.”
“You think it was just a transient lunar phenomenon,” he
said. “I think it was the beginning of something beautiful.”
“I’m not interested,” she said.
“Liar,” he said.
“You remind me of Pepe le Pew,” Claire said. “It was funny
when I was little but that was before I knew about sexual harassment.”
“Mon chéri,” he said with a French accent. “Let us flee to
Capri.”
He took a step closer, effectively trapping her against the
sink.
“Stop it, Laurie,” she said, and pushed him away.
“Flirt,” he said.
Later on, as she was walking home from Kay’s house, Claire
ran into Professor Alan Richmond, the drama department chair who was ostensibly
helping her get hired to teach theater and film hair and makeup at Eldridge
College.
“Good even, my dainty primrose,” he said. “I am looking much
forward to the pub quiz this evening.”
“Did you assemble a team?”
“I have,” he said. “And what jovial, nimble-pinioned lads they
be. I think you’ll like them and I know they’ll like you.”
“Have you heard anything about the position?”
“Nary a whisper,” he said. “But remember, the wheels of
academia move slowly and little is accomplished quickly.”
“See you tonight,” she said.
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that
I shall say good night till it be pub quiz hour.”
Claire left her father in Melissa’s capable hands and
arrived at the Rose and Thorn fifteen minutes early for game night. Her cousin
Patrick, a big, blue-eyed, dark-haired charmer, was bartending. He was also
flirting with a slender young woman with a pixie haircut who wore a peasant
blouse and heavy, black-framed glasses. Among other visible tattoos on her
body, she had a large owl on her chest, and multiple piercings in her ears,
nose, and eyebrows.
The young woman looked Claire up and down in a
not-too-friendly way, but then thawed a little as soon as Patrick introduced
Claire as his cousin.
“Arwyn Abramowicz,” the woman said as she stuck out her hand.
Claire shook her tiny hand, and as she did so, noticed
multiple scars on the young woman’s wrist and arms. Arwyn saw her notice.
“I’m a professional chef,” she said. “Those are my war
wounds.”
Claire thought the burn scars were probably related to the
woman’s profession, but the profusion of small cuts might symbolize something
much more disturbing. She had once been acquainted with a young actress who cut
herself in order to deal with the post-traumatic stress disorder she had
acquired from submitting to so many demeaning casting couch experiences. Before
filming each day, it had taken the better part of an hour to cover up her cuts,
just like those on Arwyn’s arms, and had required thick, waterproof makeup.
This same actress had used Adderall to stay thin, cocaine to stay awake, and
Trazodone to sleep.
“Arwyn owns the Pine Mountain Diner,” Patrick said, and
opened his eyes wide at Claire behind Arwyn’s back.
Claire knew he was begging her not to mention how much he
hated everything on their menu.