Summer Sisters (30 page)

“It’s over … we’re over.
Fini, finis, finito.”

“But we’re just getting started,” Will argued.

“That should make it easier.”

“Give me one good reason to end it now.”

“We have nothing in common.”

He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his pants. “We have this.”

She shook her head.

“Oh, come on, Victoria … just one more time … so you’ll have something to remember me by.”

She hadn’t expected him to let go so easily and was angry at herself for feeling disappointed.

“Feel how hot he is for you. He’s been such a good boy, waiting patiently all day.”

“Sorry, Will. Send him my regards … I mean, my regrets.” She opened the door at the next red light, grabbed her bag, and jumped out of his car.

“Really Victoria … you’re hopeless,” Paisley said. “Not that I’m pushing marriage. I’m all for making a life on your own first, but if it falls out of a tree and hits you on the head, you can’t just walk away from it, especially
when it comes with that kind of financial security. I mean, do you know how few straight, stable, single guys there are in this city … not to mention
husband
material? You could count them on one hand.
One hand.”

“Your southern roots are showing, Pais,” Maia said.

“Maybe,” Paisley said. “Or maybe it’s that a person never gets over her first love.”

“Not that old song again,” Vix said.

Her life was full. It was interesting. A person didn’t necessarily have to be in love. She signed up for a yoga course, took on another student through the School Volunteer Program, vowed not to waste her introductory membership at Crunch. She met Jocelyn for lunch a couple of times and confessed she’d never experienced the creative high of
Five Minutes in Heaven
in the real workplace. They talked about doing a documentary together, forming their own production company. “You have to keep chasing your dreams,” Jocelyn said.

A postcard from Caitlin, dated December 20, 1989, Zacatecas, Mexico.

I’ve seen death and it’s ugly. Ugly and frightening
.

No mention of James or Donny. Vix called the Seattle number, was told it was disconnected at the customer’s request. She called Abby, trying not to show her concern, and told her she’d misplaced Caitlin’s number.
Abby said, “She’s in Mexico, Vix. At a monastery. You can’t call. None of us can.”

New Year’s Eve. They decided to stay at home—Maia, Paisley, and Vix—to celebrate together. They ordered in, rented
Annie Hall
, and Vix laughed, then cried, remembering the night Lamb had taken Caitlin and her to see it. And after, how they’d begged to ride the Flying Horses but instead had found Von in the alley with some girl’s hand wrapped around his Package.

By ten, friends began to drop in—Jocelyn, Earl, Debra. Each of them brought a few of their friends. They sent out for more food. Abby and Lamb called from Mexico City to wish Vix a happy New Year. They were on their way to the monastery, hoping to see Caitlin. “Send her my love,” Vix said. “Wish her a happy New Year for me.” Daniel and Gus phoned from Chicago, where Gus was visiting his family. They sounded smashed. So what? It was New Year’s Eve. They’d thought of her, just as she’d thought of them. Old friends. Coming of age together. The end of one decade, the beginning of another.

40

O
N A
W
EDNESDAY
morning in late March, just after Vix stepped out of the shower, the phone rang. It was the woman named Frankie calling from Santa Fe. Vix’s father had had chest pains during the night. He was in the hospital. They didn’t know yet how serious it might be. Could she come right away? She called Angela, her boss, at home, explained the situation, threw some things into a bag, and headed for the airport.

The news in Santa Fe was better than she’d expected. Her father had had a severe angina attack, but no real heart damage. By the time she got there they’d done angioplasty to remove the blockage. He was asleep. Frankie, an ample woman in sweats, with rusty hair, freckled skin, and fringed moccasins, gave Vix a hug. “Thanks for coming, sweetheart. We’re mighty lucky.”

Vix excused herself to use the public phone in the hall where she called Tawny. “I’m in Santa Fe,” she told her. “Dad’s sick … it’s his heart.” For a minute Tawny didn’t respond and Vix thought they’d been disconnected. “Hello …” she said. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Tawny said quietly. “Does it look serious?”

“How can it not be serious? I just told you, it’s his heart!”

“Get hold of yourself, Victoria. They can do a lot these days. There are procedures …”

“He’s already had the
procedure.”

“That’s good.”

“Are you coming? That’s all I want to know.”

“I’m not married to him anymore. He’s not my responsibility.”

“I didn’t know the divorce was final.”

“It’s final enough.”

“Well, nobody told me.”

“How can I tell you if you never call?”

“I have a phone, too, you know, but I haven’t had any calls from Key West lately.” She waited for Tawny to say something. Anything. When she didn’t, Vix said, “Is that it, then? That’s all you have to say about the man you were married to for …” She tried to remember how many years it had been.

“Send your father my wishes for a speedy recovery, Victoria.”

“Send them yourself!” She slammed the receiver down, then looked around, chagrined, as the other people in the waiting room quickly looked away. After all, they had their own problems. She had no idea how to get in touch with Lewis so she tried Lanie’s number next. Amber answered. “Mommy’s in the bathroom with Ryan. He’s got diarrhea. Who’s this?”

“Aunt Victoria, from New York.”

“Mom …” Amber shouted into the phone, “it’s
Anti-Vix!”
She pronounced it as if it were some right
wing political group. “Mommy says hang on. She’s coming.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Lanie said.

“I’m in Santa Fe. At the hospital. Dad has a heart problem but he should be okay.”

“They called you before me?”

“Let’s not argue about it, okay? Can you come up?”

“Yeah … I suppose.”

“Good.”

“You think he’ll last the night?”

“I certainly hope so!”

“Then I’ll come tomorrow.”

When Lanie got there Ed was sitting up eating applesauce. His color had improved. The doctor had checked him earlier. He could go home in a day or two with a new diet, an exercise plan, and beta-blockers. Frankie fussed with his pillows, offered water. Amber and Ryan were fascinated by the equipment monitoring Ed’s heart until they discovered the buttons to raise and lower the hospital bed. Lanie grabbed each of them by an arm and dragged them into the hall. You could hear her scolding, telling them to behave or she’d let them have it.

Vix offered to watch the kids while Lanie visited with Ed. She took them down to the coffee shop where they ordered chocolate ice cream with strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and sprinkles. Amber asked Vix for a pony and if not a pony something from F.A.O. Schwarz, which she pronounced
Fa-oh
.

“How do you know about F.A.O. Schwarz?” Vix asked.

“From the movie
Big
. We have the tape. I’ve seen it a hundred million times.”

“Oh, right …”

“Mommy says you’re rich. So how come you won’t buy us ponies?”

“Actually, I’m not rich.”

“How come?”

“I just don’t make that much money.”

“Mommy says you spend it all on yourself, when you could be helping us.”

“Mommy’s wrong.” She had to remind herself Amber was just six years old and Ryan, not even five.

“Grandpa spends it on the Cow,” Ryan said.

“What cow?” Vix asked.

“The one sitting in Grandpa’s room,” Amber said, answering for him.

“Frankie? You mean Frankie?” Vix said.

“Uh-huh.” Ryan smiled.

“It’s not nice to call her a cow,” Vix said.

“But it’s funny,” Ryan told her. Now he was laughing, his face a mess of chocolate and strawberry.

“Frankie’s a good friend to your grandpa,” Vix said.

“Frankie’s a good friend to herself,” Amber said.

Vix couldn’t believe the lines Lanie was feeding her kids.

“My mom works three jobs,” Amber said proudly. “She takes care of horses, she cleans houses, and she pumps gas. Plus she takes care of us. How many jobs do you have?”

“Only one at the moment.”

“My dad doesn’t have a job,” Ryan said. “But he doesn’t yell at us like Mom.”

“Will you take me to New York?” Amber asked.

“Maybe someday,” Vix said. “When you’re older.”
A lot older …

Ed came home from the hospital the next day and the day after that he urged Frankie to go back to work.

“You’re absolutely sure, Chick Pea?” she asked.

“Go on now,” Ed told her. “I’ve got my own private nurse.”

Frankie looked at Vix for confirmation. Vix said, “It’s okay … really.”

When they were finally alone, her father said, “Big surprise, eh? Thought the old heart would just keep ticking, you know?”

“Well, now it will.”

“Till the next time.”

“The next time won’t be for twenty years, at least.”

“Twenty years. How old will you be then?”

“Forty-four, almost forty-five.” She couldn’t imagine herself middle-aged.

“Think you’ll be married by then, have some kids?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Or maybe you’re going to be one of those career women.”

“Every woman’s a career woman these days, Dad.” She sat beside him, took his hand. “One of my roommates is in law school and the other one is climbing up the ABC ladder so fast she’ll probably be running the network by the time she hits thirty.”

He smiled at her. “You’re a good girl, Vix. Always were. I told Frankie, ‘Vix is dependable. She’ll come if you need her.’ ”

Vix swallowed hard.

“How’s Caitlin? You see her lately?”

She shook her head. “Not lately.”

“Too bad. Got to keep in touch with your old friends. Old friends know you best.”

She nodded.

“You call Tawny?”

“Yes.”

“How’d she take it?”

“She hopes you get better soon. She sends her love.”

“Love, huh? That’s a good one.” He laughed. And Vix laughed with him.

Vix was grocery shopping at Kaune’s, stocking up on heart healthy foods for him, when she wheeled her cart into the fresh produce aisle and found Phoebe, selecting avocados. “I’m thinking of a chicken and guacamole salad,” Phoebe said, as if she and Vix were in the middle of a conversation. “What do you think?”

“High in cholesterol. Avocados, that is.” Vix tried to remember the last time she’d seen Phoebe, but couldn’t. Phoebe looked fantastic. She could have passed for Caitlin’s big sister. Vix wondered if she had staples in her scalp.

“I suppose you know Caitlin’s on the Vineyard,” Phoebe said.

Vix dropped the honeydew melon she was holding. It split open, spilling its runny guts all over the floor.

Phoebe went right on talking, as if she hadn’t even noticed. “She says she needs to get back to basics. She’s going to raise sheep and spin wool and live a simple life.
She thinks she’s Rumpelstiltskin,” Phoebe said. “Or maybe it’s Rapunzel. I always confuse the two.”

“Rapunzel’s the one with the hair,” Vix heard herself saying, as a guy with a mop appeared and began to clean up the mess.

Phoebe sniffed a box of strawberries. “Mmm … sweet. Want some?”

“My father’s allergic to strawberries.”

“Too bad. How’s he doing?”

“Pretty well, considering.”

“Send him my best.”

“I will.”

As she began to push her cart away Phoebe turned. “Vix … give Caitlin a call.”

Phoebe

S
HE HADN’T MEANT
to take Vix by surprise. That look on her face. The way she’d dropped the melon.
Gads!
She was sure Vix would have known. After all, the two of them were inseparable, weren’t they? She couldn’t begin to guess what game Caity was playing this time. Not that Caity tells
her
anything. Never has. Not really. She’s missed that part of the mother-daughter relationship. She has the feeling Vix has, too. Ah well … maybe they’ll do a better job with their daughters. The idea of Caity having a daughter makes her laugh, until she realizes that would make
her
a grandmother! Now there’s an experience she can do without for another ten years, at least.

“I’
M TRYING TO
give my life meaning,” Caitlin said when Vix called. “Does that make any sense to you?” When Vix didn’t answer right away Caitlin added, “Why am I asking you? Your life has always had meaning.”

“You sure you’re not confusing
meaning
with
struggle?”

“How do I know? Do you think by trying not to be ordinary I’ve become neurotic?”

“Are you seeing a shrink … is that what this is about?”

“Of course I’m seeing a shrink. Do you know anyone who isn’t … besides you?”