Untold Story (10 page)

Tevis pulled up her top.

“Oh my God,” squealed Amber. “What happened to you?”

Tevis explained it all over again, how the air in the glass cups was heated with a flame to create suction against the skin when the cup was placed firmly against the flesh. The marks would be gone in a few days, and the benefits, in terms of relaxation and invigoration, would last for weeks.

“Well, you look relaxed,” said Amber. It was true. Tevis was sitting on the grungy old kitchen sofa with her feet up, in cutoff jeans and a T-shirt, her auburn hair tumbled about her shoulders.

“That’s because she’s not doing any of the work around here,” said Suzie. “Lydia and I have been slaving away.”

“Let me help,” said Amber. “What can I do?”

“You can fix us a drink for a start, and then you can tell us all about your date.”

“I don’t know if it was a date,” said Amber. “It was lunch.”

“Lunch can be a date,” said Suzie.

“Of course it can,” said Tevis.

Suzie said, “Hey, break out the champagne, someone. Me and Tevis just agreed on something.”

“I see Pinot Grigio,” said Amber. “I don’t see champagne.” She pulled a bottle out of the fridge.

“Let’s sit down and concentrate,” said Suzie, abandoning her knife. “Lydia, you can leave that to simmer, come on, sit down.”

They all sat around the table. “Now,” said Suzie, “spill.”

“We went to Tiggi’s,” said Amber. She tucked her hair behind her ears, although it was already tucked. “I had the pea soup to start and he had the tomato and mozzarella salad.”

“Don’t give us the menu, Amber,” said Suzie. “Give us the dirt. What’s he like?”

“He’s kinda nice,” said Amber.

“So you had sex with him?” You could always rely on Suzie to get straight down to business.

And on Amber to get embarrassed. “No! Suzie, please!”

“Did you kiss?” said Tevis.

“No, I told you, I don’t even know if it was a date. He’s a neighbor, maybe he’s just being neighborly.”

“We sat down for this?” said Suzie. “Aren’t you going to tell us anything juicy?”

Tevis said, “You know what I read the other day? If a man’s ring finger is longer than his index finger that means he’s got high testosterone. That is actually a scientifically proven fact.”

“Really? A long ring finger means he’s highly sexed? Amber, has what’s-his-name got a rinky-dinky ring finger, or is he well endowed?”

“Suzie, you are so smutty,” said Amber. She was smiling her slightly gummy, slightly daffy smile. “And his name is Phil, by the way.”

“I’ve been married fifteen years,” said Suzie, “to the man I dated in high school. I get my kicks vicariously.”

“Well, I’ll take my ruler along and measure all his limbs and digits next time,” said Amber.

“Ah, so there’s going to be a next time.”

Amber sighed. She wore a wraparound blue cotton dress printed with white flower sprigs. Suzie wore khakis and Tevis was in cutoffs, and Lydia had on jeans as usual. But Amber always said she had to do her best to advertise Closet by making an effort with her wardrobe. “Yes, I think so. At least he said we should do it again.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled.”

“I’d definitely go,” said Amber. “But you know it’s been so long since I’ve had—” She lowered her voice. “
Sex
. All my parts have probably dried up.”

“Listen,” said Suzie. “You are a very attractive woman. He’d be lucky to have you, this what’s-his-name.”

“I was out running the other day,” said Amber. “You know, I go when I’ve dropped the kids off at school and before I open up the store. And I’m running along and I pass this woman going in the opposite direction, then another, we sort of half say hi, the way you do when someone’s doing the same thing as you. I’m thinking something in the back of my head, some thought is forming, but I don’t know what it is. And then I pass a third woman and bam! it hits me. These women’s breasts don’t move. I’m talking about women with good-sized breasts and they just don’t move, and I’m wearing two goddamn bras and I’m, like, flop, bounce, flop.”

“They’ve been done,” said Tevis.

“Here in Kensington,” said Amber, “women are having their breasts done. What’s Phil going to think when, if—I mean if—he sees mine? They don’t point up at the ceiling. They roll under my arms!”

They got back to the cooking. There’d be ten, including the children, for lunch. Mike was out on patrol and called to say he’d be home by four and to save some of the chicken fritters for him. Lydia chopped lettuce and cucumber and tomatoes, Amber shelled peas, and Suzie mixed eggs, half-and-half, and grated cheese for the quiche. Tevis sat in lotus position on the couch.

“I was in the bath the other day,” said Suzie, “when Oscar walks in.” Oscar was Suzie’s five-year-old. “He takes a pee, and he’s babbling away. He says, Mom, you know God? I say, yes, baby, I do. He says, how big is he? Is he, like, really, really huge? I start giving him this long answer, but he’s not even listening, he’s looking at my boobs. He says, Mom, you know your boobies? I say, yes, baby, I know those too. He says, well, like, why are they down on your belly?”

“Did you tell him, this is how a real woman looks?” said Amber.

“What I didn’t say,” said Suzie, “what I wanted to say but didn’t, was because I breast-fed you and your brother and sisters, and this is what you did to them.”

“Ha! But you stopped yourself.”

Lydia thought about Carson sawing the wood, the flex of muscle where his shirt was open as his arm moved back and forth. Lawrence would like him. Of all the men she’d ever dated, he’d definitely like Carson. “But, ma’am,” he would say, “as always I would counsel that it is preferable, in such situations, to err on the side of caution.” She never listened. Or she’d listen, and then hurtle right ahead.

“Breast-feeding doesn’t cause your boobs to sag,” said Tevis. “There’s no evidence for that.”

“I don’t know what makes you an expert,” said Suzie. “I got all the evidence I need. I’m having a cookie. Anyone else want one?”

They all shook their heads.

“Man, you are self-controlled,” said Suzie. “I’m starting a diet tomorrow. New week, new leaf, new me.”

She was always starting diets, always wanting to lose a few pounds, just a few. Lydia looked up from her chopping board and appraised her friend. She was stocky, a little round across the middle but it sat naturally on her. In her khaki pants and white shirt, with her black hair cut into a crop, she looked attractive, full of mischief and energy.

“What’s it this time,” said Tevis, “cabbage soup?”

“You are so stuck in the nineties,” said Suzie. “I know it seems like I’m on a different one every week, but you gotta try new things. What about you, Lydia? I bet you never dieted in your life. You’re so lucky with your body shape.”

Body shape didn’t come into it, that much Lydia knew. She thought about the bowls of custard that the chef, on her instructions, would leave in the fridge before he went home at night. “I don’t diet anymore. Suzie, you look just right as you are.” She’d spend an hour or so bingeing. Eating the custard made it easier for it all to come up. Ice cream, too, was good for that. Much easier to purge your stomach than to purge your entire life.

“You okay?” said Suzie. “You’re a bit quiet today.”

“I’m fine, really, I am.”

Suzie looked at her skeptically. “Everything all right with Carson?”

“Yes,” she said, “he stayed last night, chopped down a dead tree for me this morning.” She didn’t want to talk about it yet, didn’t want to have red eyes when the kids came in from the yard.

“Hey,” said Suzie, “his ring finger must be long. What about Steve?” she said to Tevis. “How does he measure up?”

“He is perfectly balanced,” said Tevis. “He has a feminine side. Personally, I have no desire for a caveman.”

Amber started setting the table. “Do you want place mats, Suzie? Tevis, when are you and Steve going to take the next step? How long has it been, four years?”

Tevis unfolded her legs out of lotus and turned circles with her feet to give her ankles a stretch. “We’ve been dating four years, and I like going out on dates with him. I’m not moving in and he’s not moving in with me. I don’t need a man as the center of my life to make me whole.”

“I do,” blurted Amber. She giggled. “No, I don’t. Well, maybe. It would be nice.”

Four years of dating, thought Lydia. No need to change anything. Sounded perfect. If only Carson were around to hear that.

“I’ve got some news,” said Tevis. She reached into her purse and pulled out a printed brochure. “I’ve been looking to buy a little retreat place for ages, and I’ve found somewhere up by the lake.”

“Oh, it’s so sweet,” said Amber. “Did you get it? Is it yours? A log cabin, how romantic, and look how wild it is, there’s deer up there, I think.”

“Careful the bears don’t getcha,” said Suzie, taking a look. “Wow, it’s really neat. When are we all going?”

“I thought we could go for Lydia’s birthday, the weekend right after it. Amber, think you can get a sitter for the kids?”

Amber thought she could. That’s the weekend of the ballet, Lydia thought. Maybe she ought to pay Carson back for the tickets. Or they could go as friends. No, he wouldn’t want that.

Rufus ran in off the deck and fussed until she picked him up. She babied him. She stroked his silky ears. He sneezed right in her face, and then looked at her as if to say, aren’t I just so adorable? She’d started letting him sleep on the bed. All the books said you shouldn’t, and he used to sleep in his own bed in the kitchen, but somehow he’d wormed his way upstairs. When he started doing that she’d been stern with him, but then he would lie down so very close to the end of the bed that he was nearly falling off, as if she were being entirely unreasonable when there was so much room for a little chap who would be no bother at all.

A dog didn’t ask for much. They were so much simpler than people. When she was telling Lydia how she came to set up the shelter, Esther had said, “It’s not so altruistic as it seems. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m sheltering the dogs, or the dogs are sheltering me. You see these celebrities who can’t stand it anymore—what do they do? They go off and work with animals. It’s better than therapy. I think that’s what I’m doing.” She laughed. “Me and Brigitte Bardot.”

Lydia understood what she was saying and she loved her work at Kensington Canine, but Esther needed and preserved her solitude and Lydia still wanted people around. She enjoyed the warmth and clutter of Suzie’s house, was grateful for these women, for their laughter, and for never making her feel like the interloper that she was.

Suzie called out to the kids that lunch was ready. They were making a racket upstairs so they must have gone around from the yard earlier and in through the front door. Oscar sat on Lydia’s knee and talked with his mouth full. Amber’s son, Tyler, sat opposite, fiddling surreptitiously with the cell phone on his lap. Maya, Suzie’s eldest, said she wasn’t hungry, and Serena (Amber’s youngest and a year below Maya in school) said so too, although she had loaded her plate with a serving of everything.

“You girls gotta eat,” said Suzie. “You’ll waste away.”

“Serena got the plum role in the school play,” said Amber. “You’re looking at the new Dorothy!”

“Terrific,” said Lydia. “Book me a front row seat.”

“My ass is getting big,” said Maya. “I’ll have salad.”

“My ass you will!” said Suzie. “Eat. You too, Serena. And congratulations, honey, I’ll be in that front row as well.”

“Would it be bad to open another bottle?” said Tevis.

“This potato salad is delicious,” said Amber. “Are these ramps in there, instead of scallions?”

“You know I throw half my lunch box away every day?” said Maya. “You put way too much fatty food in there.”

“I’m not rising to it, Maya,” said Suzie. “Did everyone wash their hands?”

The kids all mumbled unconvincingly.

“D’you miss Miami?” Tevis said to Suzie.

Lydia had heard the story of why Suzie and Mike had to leave. They’d been there ten years. “Half of Miami PD is on the take,” Suzie had said, “and Mike’s the one who gets investigated.” Mike was straight, she said, a good guy. He bent the rules now and then but only in the interest of justice, so some piece of scum didn’t get off on a technicality. She felt they’d been run out of town. “We like it here,” she’d said. “But Mike does get a bit bored—it’s all parking tickets and thirty-dollar litter fines.”

“Not really, I don’t,” she said now, answering Tevis. “Kensington feels like home. I miss San Francisco sometimes, you can’t get that kind of fog anywhere else. I’m going back for a high school reunion in September. Twenty-five years since graduation. I am so psyched for that.”

“You keep in touch with anybody?” said Tevis.

“Of course. There’s a bunch of us. We call, we e-mail, we do weddings, funerals, bat mitzvahs, and divorce. We gather for those.”

“That’s how it goes,” said Tevis. “I’d be so up for a trip to San Fran. There are some healing shops I really love there.”

“Come,” said Suzie. “We’ll go to all your nut job shops. I’d love it if you would come.”