Getting to Happy (14 page)

“Well, I know since we’ve both signed the papers we could be divorced—ironically enough—on tax day, and if I were to get the settlement around that time, the IRS would take almost every dime of it without fail.”

“So what are you asking me, Isaac?”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. He had yet to touch his sandwich. “I was wondering if you would be willing to postpone the final divorce decree until July first?”

He didn’t look at me.

“Okay.” What difference did it really make? I wasn’t trying to hurry up and get married again, and no one but us would even have to know. Not only that, but some people battle it out in court for years, what’s a few more months?

“Are you serious? You’d be willing to do that for me?”

“I would, but I have to tell you, Isaac, you better be glad I was already pre-approved for the second mortgage I have to take out on the house to pay you. I still have time to postpone it. But how much do you . . . oh, never mind. It’s none of my business and I don’t really want to know.”

“Thank you, Savannah.” He looked like he was on the verge of leaning over to give me a kiss, and I was about to let him when it hit me what we were doing and I backed away.

“And you’re sure you’ll be able to resolve all this by July first?”

He nodded and finally reached for his sandwich and took a big bite. Chewed. “I’m actually already working with someone but it takes a minute to set it up. It’s looking good. It’s so much you have to disclose, and I can’t afford to have that kind of money showing up in my account until I get this worked out.”

“And is that when you’re planning on moving to Vegas?”

“I’m just thinking about relocating. I’m getting a little tired of Phoenix. I’ve been here all my life and could use a change of scenery.”

“Does your girlfriend feel the same way?”

“Can we not talk about any third parties, because it might spoil the tone, and right now I’m feeling nothing but gratitude toward you, Savannah.”

“No problem. I don’t want to know, anyway.”

“You look good,” he said out of nowhere, which threw me off guard. He’s always been good at that.

“So do you, Isaac.”

And then we just sat there and ate. “This is a really good sandwich,” he said after he had devoured it and treated himself to too many of my chips. “What time do you need to be back?”

I just looked at him. He knows I’m not on a clock, that no one cares as long as I do my job. I took a sip of my tea and wanted to get up and prepare to say goodbye, until next time, but of course it dawned on me that there might not be a next time. We don’t even have to sign the papers together and the same will hold true even with the amended date. Our divorce will just happen on the day we designate. We could be anywhere, doing anything.

“You know what, Savannah? I don’t know when we might see each other again or if we’ll ever have a chance to talk, but I want you to know that I have absolutely no regrets about being married to you. None.”

I was surprised to hear him say this. But I figured if this was his way of coming clean, then we should both do it. “In spite of everything, Isaac, I’m glad you stalked me at church until I went out with you, and I loved you up to the last minute.”

“What made you stop?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“I would like to know. And I didn’t stalk you. I followed you out to the parking lot but that was only because you were staring at me up in the choir.”

“You couldn’t sing a lick, and I don’t know how you ever got in the choir. I stopped loving you because you stopped making me feel important.”

“When was that?”

“When did your porn fun get deep?”

“A couple of years ago.”

“There you go. You stopped listening to me when I talked.”

“Savannah, all you did was talk.”

“Okay, I have to agree. But when I do, I try to make sure I have something to say.”

“But sometimes it’s good to be quiet, too. Everybody doesn’t need to know what you think. At least not on an hourly basis.”

I reached over and punched him on the shoulder. “You know what I miss about you?”

“I do not.”

“These,” I said and squeezed his shoulder, and then, “These,” I said, and pressed my fingers gently against his lips, and “That,” I said, and rubbed the palm of my hand across his hard belly. “I’ll stop there.”

“No, don’t. Please. Keep going.”

“Shut up, Isaac.”

“Come on, Savannah.”

“Okay. So you’re the only man that has ever made me come four times.”

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever made come four times, but that’s because I loved the way you made me feel.”

“Okay, let’s skip this part. I loved how comforting you could be.”

“I loved how you used to watch me when I was building something. Like you were really interested.”

“But I was. I didn’t know how you did it. I thought you were brilliant.”

“Really? You never told me that.”

“I did so.”

“I beg to differ with you. I would remember that.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“I miss watching stupid television shows with you and you rubbing your feet across mine during the whole show. I was always glad when it was an hour program. I hate to say it, but I loved watching you jump up and down when you disagreed with something on
Sixty Minutes
or when something you read in the paper or saw on the news really upset you. I liked that you were compassionate and empathetic. Not very many women I’ve ever met get worked up about social and political stuff.”

“You didn’t seem to feel that way about a lot of the stories I did, and it hurt my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, Savannah. I wasn’t dismissing them or their relevance. I just wanted you to take it a step further.”

“Meaning?”

“Offer up some solutions.”

“But I don’t have the answers.”

“You’ve got opinions, this we all know. You should make them known. That’s what’ll get people to thinking.”

“You might have a point. But maybe not. I respected what you did, even though I didn’t go ga-ga over fences and decks. I sure loved ours. The bed in the backyard is still kick-ass.”

“I hope you never make love to anybody else on it. But then again, I’ll never know, will I?”

We sat there silent for a minute or two. Maybe five.

“You want to know what I don’t miss?” I asked.

“I’m afraid to say yes.”

“Camping and fishing. It’s not as much fun as you think it is, Isaac.”

“No comment.”

I pushed him this time.

“I’m beginning to wonder if divorce is making you violent, young lady.”

“I like the sound of that: young lady.”

“You are young, Savannah. Your heart is young and so is your spirit.”

“I wish that was true.”

“Please. You and those crazy girlfriends of yours won’t be senior citizens for years to come. I’m glad you have them in your life, and they should be glad to have you in theirs.”

“We are. You always liked them, didn’t you?”

“I did. Robin is a hoot. Gloria’s just sweet. I don’t know how she’s managing without Marvin when I’m having a hard time accepting he’s gone. I feel for her. I don’t know who I’m going to watch games with. I really miss him. I hope you stay close to Bernie, too, Savannah. She’s been bitter too long and it seems to have taken its toll on her.”

“Well, some people do really rotten things that can make getting over it and moving on a little harder.”

“I know. You know what else I want you to know?”

“I’m listening.”

“That everything doesn’t always have to serve a purpose.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t think you do. If you meet somebody else—and I pray that you do, Savannah, seriously—loosen up and lighten up. Be as silly as you can be sometimes. Waste time. Don’t try to fill up every minute with shit you think is important because everything isn’t.”

“As for you. Take a phobia class so you can get your old ass on a plane and go somewhere you can’t get to by car. You are missing out, Isaac. There’s a world out there worth seeing and I sure wish we could’ve seen more of it together.”

“I’ll consider it.”

As the sharks were being fed, we sat there and watched them rush to eat.

“I started going to PAA meetings.”

“That’s really good to hear. I hope it helps.”

“You want to know how it got started?”

“Not really, but spill it.”

“When I was about fifteen one of the neighbor kids shared some of his dad’s porn stash with me. Of course I liked it. Had never seen anything like it. We laughed about it and even bragged about it. Fast-forward to the Internet, and I never in a million years would have thought of it as addicting until you busted me, really. Well, it had gotten way out of hand and I knew it, but I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

“But you didn’t know that, did you? I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of and I would much rather you’d told me than have me find out the way that I did.”

“I know. My poor computer. You were serious, weren’t you?”

“I was. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I think I was more hurt that you were sharing so much of yourself with these strangers, and of course, over time, you ended up not being as warm toward me. But it’s water under the bridge. I think I better get going now, though.”

We both stood up and stretched.

“I’ll always love you, Savannah. Know that.”

“That’s nice, Isaac. Now here,” I said and gave him a quick peck on the lips, but before I was able to back away he slid those long arms around me like he used to and squeezed me so tight I didn’t think I was going to be able to breathe.

Thunderstruck

Bernadine is sitting inside a nice little bistro, sipping on a cup of coffee, waiting for Gloria. She’s a half hour late. She wants to call to see what the holdup is, especially since Gloria has canceled on her three times in the last month. But she doesn’t feel like harassing her. Marvin’s been gone four months now, and Savannah, Robin and Bernadine have been doing their best to help her get through this. They’ve been trying to get her out of the house to do some of the things they used to do—lunch, brunch, shop, anything—but she has resisted.

“What do you feel like doing today?” they’ve asked her.

“I’m doing it,” she’d say. Which was nothing.

The last one to see her was Robin. That was over a month ago when Joseph tightened her weave. “Gloria looks like she’s packing it on,” Robin had said. Bernadine hasn’t brought up this topic. She knows grief takes its own time, that it can end up on your plate or in a pill but you still can’t swallow it. After weeks of cajoling and warm threats, Gloria finally agreed to meet her for brunch.

Bernadine is staring out the window at those heat waves wiggling. At that giant sun. The cloudless sky. The breeze is so hot you don’t want to inhale.

“Are you almost ready to order?” the waitress asks as she freshens Bernadine’s coffee.

“Just give me a few more minutes. Thanks.”

She calls Gloria. “Where are you, Glo?”

“Right around the corner. Sorry I’m late, Bernie. I just found out one of the girls has quit, so I had to call Joseph about rescheduling her Tuesday appointments.”

“I hope it’s not Twyla or Joline.”

“No, thank goodness. Monique. I don’t think you know her. She did mostly hot lathers. Anyway, she was flaky and not half as good as she thought she was.”

“She quit on a Sunday afternoon?”

“Why are you acting like you don’t believe me? She’s moving to Seattle. Where she’s from. Anyway, I’ll be right there.”

When she spots Gloria heading for her table, Bernadine is shocked and saddened by what she sees. Robin was right. Gloria has put on at least twenty pounds. She looks older, tired. “Hey, girl.” She stands up and gives Gloria a hug. “You look good.”

“I look like hell, so stop lying, Bernie.”

“You don’t look like hell. And that dress is pretty.” She was also lying about this. It was the wrong purple and looked like a maternity dress.

“Thanks anyway. I’m starving. What are you having?”

“Maybe an omelet.”

“I would love some banana pancakes and bacon,” Gloria says.

The waitress brings more coffee and takes their order. They are quiet for a few minutes. They look out the window, then at each other. “So, how are you holding up, Glo?”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know this isn’t an easy thing to go through.”

“That’s an understatement, Bernie. You have no idea what it feels like to lose your husband.”

“I’ve lost two husbands.”

“But they didn’t die, Bernie.”

“That depends on how you look at it. They didn’t come back.”

“Anyway,” she says, perking up. “My grandkids are staying with me for ten whole days next month. Tarik and Nickida are going to Hawaii.”

“They’ll keep you busy.” Bernadine pours more cream in her coffee. “Tarik still deserves better.”

“Let’s not go there today, Bernie. My son loves the huzzie, so I have to tolerate her.”

“And Tarik still doesn’t think anything about that oldest boy—what’s his name again?”

“Brass.”

“That every year that goes by, he’s looking less and less like his so-called biological father?”

“If he’s figured it out, he hasn’t said anything to me and I’m not saying anything to him. He loves that boy, regardless.”

“It’s his mama I don’t trust from here to the corner.”

“Well, Tarik thinks she can walk on water, so I’ve just pretended all these years not to know where she’s been.”

“How’s your pressure and cholesterol these days, Glo?”

“They’re both fine, thank you for asking.”

“You know none of us want to see you go through anything like that again.”

“Who is ‘none of us’? Have you guys been talking about me behind my back?” She adds another package of sugar to her coffee and stirs it fast. “They are taking their sweet time with the food and it’s not even crowded in here.”

“Come on, Glo. Robin just mentioned that you’d starting putting on weight and then we couldn’t help but remember when you had your heart attack. We love you Gloria, and just want you to be careful.”

The waitress brings their food and gives Gloria’s pancakes to Bernadine and Bernadine’s omelet to Gloria. “I’ll take that,” she says to Bernadine, and swaps plates. “I’ve got all that under control despite how things might look. It’s just been hard, Bernie. So you can report back to Robin and Savannah that they can stop worrying about me even though I appreciate the concern.”