The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again (15 page)

17

Polly was sorry when the Friday-night yoga class at The Haven ended. The room quickly emptied. Some women yanked on coats and raced out to their cars. Others headed into the locker room, and Polly followed. She’d take her time showering and dressing—why not? Outside, the January night was black and cold. She had nowhere to go and nothing to do.

The women’s locker room rang with noise and laughter. Polly stripped off her tank top and sweatpants, quickly wrapping a towel around her plump body. Her self-esteem was at an all-time low right now, especially where younger people were concerned. Some days it seemed her heart ached so fiercely, missing her son, longing to see her grandson, her body wanted to curl around the pain like an empty nautilus shell, washed up on the beach.

She sidled toward the showers, found an empty stall, and hurried inside. The hot water relaxed her, enclosing her in a world of warmth. She took her time washing her hair and soaping her body and rinsing off, but she couldn’t stay in there forever.

Just as she turned off the water, she heard a woman call, “See you in there!”

Polly stepped out onto the tiles, towel around her, body dripping. She’d been in for a long time, and now the locker room was empty. But the door to the Jacuzzi room was just closing—the Jacuzzi! What a good idea! More warmth, more water therapy, and perhaps she’d strike up a conversation. Summoning her courage, she hurriedly pulled on her ancient green bathing suit, strode across the floor, pulled open the door, and stepped inside.

An unexpected fragrance took her senses by surprise. For a moment, she stood stock-still, inhaling the wonderful scent. The light in the room was less bright than usual, but she could still make out the tiles painted with beautiful images: flowers, birds, stars, planets. The air was warm and hazy with steam. Wide steps led into a deep indigo blue tub of swirling hot water.

The Jacuzzi was almost full. Six women were taking their places around the rim of the tub, and the rising steam gave them a conspiratorial air.

“Oh.” Polly stopped, suddenly shy. “Is this, um, private?”

She thought she caught a glance exchanged between two of the older women, but a third woman, one she’d seen before—Polly thought she was the art teacher—spoke up.

“Not at all. Come on in, the water’s fine.”

Polly smiled gratefully and stepped down into the swirling liquid. Three of the women were younger than she, but three seemed about her own age, so she wasn’t the class crone.

“Ahh,” she sighed, sinking back into the warmth. “This feels great.”

“Smells wonderful, too,” said the pregnant woman, whose belly floated up out of the water like a mini beach ball.

“Good,” said the art teacher. “It’s something they’re experimenting with, combining aroma and water therapy.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” said a young woman with a cap of striking black hair. “Christmas just about did me in.”

The black woman chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

“All right, I will! I’ve been married for a year to a man I adore, but his daughter lives with us, and she won’t
talk,
and her grandmother clearly thinks I’ve got the nurturing abilities of Attila the Hun.”

“So you’re nervous and stressed?” asked a sweet-looking girl in a pastel pink bathing suit.

“Nervous and stressed?”
The woman snorted. “I have killer headaches and my hearing’s wonky. I’ve seen specialists, had an MRI, and no one can find anything physically wrong with me. A nurse suggested I try The Haven.”

“Any improvement?” asked the black woman. “I’m Alice, by the way, and happy to say I’m divorced. I lost contact with my hellish old mother-in-law long ago.”

“I’m Julia. I haven’t been coming long enough to tell. I started in November, and then the holidays got in the way. But I made a New Year’s resolution to come at least twice a week. I’ve got to do something or I think I’ll really lose my mind.”

With a wave of her hand, the art teacher said, “I’m Faye, and I have a question! Is the problem your husband’s mother?” She looked worried.

“No, Tim’s mother’s dead, unfortunately.” Julia leaned forward. “Look. Here’s the deal: Annette, my husband’s first wife, died two years ago. Cancer. Very sad, very difficult for everyone. Their daughter, Belinda, was five when her mother died, and she’s seven now, and she hasn’t spoken a word since.”

“Poor little girl,” murmured the slender woman with auburn hair. “I’m Marilyn.”

Julia smiled hello, then pressed on. “Belinda goes to school, but doesn’t talk. She has one good friend she plays with, but I think she sort of lives in a fantasy world.”

The petite brunette perked up. “I can relate to that.” She gave a quick shrug of shyness. “I’m Beth.”

“Probably we all can relate, in one way or the other,” Julia agreed. “Belinda isn’t the problem, though. I think eventually she’ll come out of it. Tim has taken her to lots of psychologists and child experts, who have assured him all she needs is time. No, my problem isn’t the little girl. She’s sweet, actually, and I think we’ve developed a pretty nice relationship. It’s her maternal grandmother.” Julia wrinkled her nose. “
Agnes.
The only good thing about her is that she lives hours away, in the western part of the state. But she makes her presence known, believe me. She’s invasive and divisive. She really dislikes me.”

“Would she dislike any woman Tim married?” Polly asked.

Julia thought about it. “Maybe. Yes, that’s a good point. It’s not me she objects to so much as anyone taking her daughter’s place with Belinda. Agnes wants Belinda to live with her. And of course the longer Belinda doesn’t speak, the more proof Agnes feels she has that the child is unhappy living with Tim and me.”

“That’s a pretty complicated problem,” Alice observed.

“Yeah, and it’s not just an unpleasant-feeling-in-the-air kind of thing. Before Thanksgiving, when Agnes babysat so Tim and I could go out, she pawed through all my clothes. Left them in a mess.” Julia shuddered, remembering. “Like an animal peeing to mark its territory.”

Beth shuddered. “Creepy!”

Alice frowned. “Did you ask her about it?”

Julia shook her head. “I decided I didn’t want to confront her. She’s looking for a fight, clearly, and for Belinda’s sake, I want to keep the peace.” Julia’s face fell. “The terrible thing is, since I can’t take my anger out on her or Belinda, I take it out on poor Tim, who’s perfectly innocent.” Soberly she added, “It’s a strain on our marriage.”

“Well,” Polly said philosophically, “marriage is about better
and
worse.”

“Oooh,” Beth moaned. “They didn’t mention that in the Cinderella story.”

“Come to think of it,” Julia observed, “I don’t believe the prince’s mother is even
alive
in the Cinderella story, is she?”

“I guess that’s why it’s a fairy tale,” Beth said. “No mothers-in-law.”

Faye climbed up out of the Jacuzzi. Her face was flushed, her eyes moist, but she smiled over her shoulder. “I’m off.” To the pregnant woman, she added, “You know, pregnant women shouldn’t stay in the Jacuzzi too long.”

Carolyn nodded. “You’re right. Shirley Gold mentioned that, too.” Looking disappointed, she made her way out of the water.

“Don’t go,” Alice said. “Why don’t you get in your robe, then lie down and enjoy the aromatherapy. Put that towel under your head for a pillow.”

Carolyn, appreciating Alice’s authoritative tone of voice, did as she suggested. After she made herself comfortable, she smiled at the others. “I’m Carolyn.”

Faye left, the others waving lazy good-byes.

“I hope I didn’t say something to offend her,” Beth said.

“She’s fine,” Alice assured her. “Go on with what you were saying.”

“Okay.” Beth took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, you can tell by just looking at me that I’ve got all the strength and athletic grace of a penguin, right? And my fiancé”—just saying the word made her blush crimson—“and his family are all jocks and hearty jokers. When they slap me on the back, I almost fall over.”

“Why do they slap you on the back?” Julia asked.

“Because that’s what they do. It’s like being around a football team or something, they all sort of go around in a
herd.
I mean, they are so healthy and athletic, I get intimidated. I’ve always been weak and clumsy, but when I’m around them, my body goes into a kind of hyperklutziness.”

“Oh, God,” Polly groaned. “I can relate to that. My mother-in-law’s so formal and meticulous, she makes me feel like a little Hobbit running around picking my nose.”

The others laughed.

Encouraged, Beth continued, “Well, my fiancé’s name is Sonny. Actually, his name is Merle Junior, he was named after his father, and he’s the first son, so they call him Sonny. Bobbie, Sonny’s mom,
adores
Sonny’s high school girlfriend, Robin. She’s plastered the house with photos of Sonny and Robin as king and queen of the prom.
Plus,
Robin is always at Sonny’s parents’ house. She’s there for meals. She watches football games. She helps work in the yard.”

“That’s tough,” Julia sympathized.

Beth nodded. “I’ve been trying so hard to make Bobbie like me. And she pretends to, in front of Sonny, but I swear she undermines me every chance she gets.”

“For example?” Marilyn asked.

“Well, Sonny has a big family, and even though the kids are in their twenties, two of them still live at home. The father’s a carpenter. They’re all carpenters. They all eat humongous amounts of food, and Sonny and I always go there for Sunday dinner. So one Sunday I offered to bring something, it seemed only polite. I made a wonderful beef bourguignonne with wine and mushrooms, a huge pot of it. Spent hours on it. Well.” A red glow spread up her neck as she remembered that day. “We showed up at his parents’ house, and I gave the pot to Bobbie, who acted so thrilled to have it and put it on the stove to heat up. I went off and watched TV with the others. But when we sat down to eat, my stew had this really terrible taste to it, a kind of
fishy
tang. It didn’t make you want to barf, but it gave the whole thing a weird, disgusting flavor. Everyone pretended it was delicious, but no one ate very much. What could I say? I was so confused! Later, when I was helping do the dishes, I saw several cans of tuna in the metal recycling bin. I think Bobbie skimmed the tuna water into my stew, gave the fish to Tinkerbelle—that’s their dog—and sabotaged me.”

“Wow.” Julia whistled. “Either you’re really paranoid or that mother’s psycho.”

“Plus, there are a lot of little things. They’re always doing repairs on their buildings, or working in their garden. I’m finishing up my Ph.D. in literature, and I work in the BU library, so I admit I’m hopeless about tools and stuff. But like, once, Merle, that’s Sonny’s father, asked me to go get a bow saw, and I went back to the workshop, and told Bobbie what he wanted, and she gave me a pruning saw! When I took it to Merle, everyone laughed at me.”

Carolyn spoke up. “Have you tried to talk to Sonny about this?”

Beth shook her head vehemently. “I don’t dare say negative stuff about Sonny’s family, especially about his beloved mother! He thinks they’re all perfect.”

“When are you getting married?” Polly asked.

“We haven’t set the date yet. We started talking about marriage in the fall. He gave me this ring at Christmas.” She held out her hand, showing off the tiny diamond. Her face softened as she looked at it. “I love him so much. I know he loves me. But once, for example, when we were carrying boxes into the den to decorate the family Christmas tree, Bobbie gave me a box to carry that was so heavy I could scarcely lift it.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “So I’m coming here, and I’m going to get some muscles, and I’m going to get in shape.”

“That’s the spirit!” Alice said.

“Speaking of dates . . .” Marilyn waded across the tub and climbed the steps. “I’ve got one and I don’t want to be late.” She looked back at them with a rueful smile. “I wish I could stay.”

The others waved good-bye, and then there were five in the room.

“She’s about my age,” Polly murmured wistfully. “And she’s got a date.”

“You want a date, too?” inquired Alice.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that just yet.” Polly hesitated. Claudia would hate to be talked about, but in this steamy, warm room, swirling with mysterious scent, Polly felt so safe, so included.

“Don’t stop now,” Carolyn urged.

“Well,” Polly confided, “my husband, Tucker, died two years ago, but I’ve still got to deal with my mother-in-law. She’s eighty-six, and ill with ovarian cancer.” As the others moaned in sympathy, Polly said, “Yes, I know, it is too bad. But she’s making it worse. She’s very formal, patrician, remote. She doesn’t want to go into the hospital, and she refuses to allow hospice or any strangers into her house. She does permit me to come once a day to bring her groceries and do a little cleaning in the kitchen. But she won’t let me get close to her, physically or emotionally. I’d like to hear about her youth, or my husband’s childhood. But she freezes me out completely.”

“She’s probably afraid,” Beth suggested. “She probably feels embarrassed.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure that’s not it. Claudia’s always looked down on me. Way down. She’s always made it clear that her son married beneath him, and she won’t change her mind just because she’s dying.”

Alice hauled herself up out of the tub. “Sorry, ladies, but I’ve got to get home.”

“Bye,” said the four remaining women as the door shut behind Alice.

“I should go, too,” Carolyn said reluctantly.

“Darn,” Polly said. “I’ve had more fun in this Jacuzzi tonight than I have in months!”

Julia leaned forward. “Me, too. I feel so much more, oh, I don’t know, optimistic. It feels so
good
to be frank, to complain about my stepdaughter and her grandmother instead of mincing around pretending everything’s rosy. But I can’t bitch to Tim or I’d feel like some kind of monster.”

“I like this aromatherapy,” Beth said.

“I do, too, but I’m hungry,” Julia said. “Want to grab a bite to eat at the restaurant down the road?”

Beth’s eyes widened. “What fun!”