Significant Others (19 page)
When he returned, Wren was seated in an armchair next to the fireplace. Thack and Brian were on the sofa.
“There’s drinks on that tray,” said Wren, as he handed her the joints.
“Thanks,” said Michael. “I’m fine.” He sat on a tapestry cushion next to the hearth.
“In that case …” Wren struck a kitchen match against the fireplace and lit a joint. She took several dainty tokes before offering it to Michael.
“No, thanks,” he said.
“C’mon.”
“I’m on the wagon for a while. Cleaning out my system.”
She made a face at him, then offered the joint to Brian.
He shook his head, smiling dimly.
“I’ll take some,” said Thack.
“Thank God.” She leaned over and handed Thack the joint. “These Frisco boys are a lot of fun, aren’t they?”
Thack laughed.
“So,” said Wren, turning to Michael. “What’s there to do in this neck of the woods?”
“Well … we’ve been walking a lot, swimming in the creek.”
“Swell.”
Michael shrugged. “You came to the wrong place if you wanted action. There are one or two discos….”
“Forget it.”
“I agree,” said Thack, returning the joint to Wren.
“What about your friend?” said Michael.
“What about him?” She took another hit off the joint.
So, thought Michael, we’ve established the gender. “Well, hasn’t he shown you around?”
“No, not really. He’s gone most of the time.” She gave him a crooked, faintly knowing smile, telling him to mind his own business. Was she being kept? Was it somebody famous—like half the men in her memoirs?
“Michael says you’re gonna make a movie with Sydney Pollack.” This was Thack, jumping in.
“Well … Michael knows more than I do.”
“I read it somewhere,” said Michael defensively.
“ ‘Inquiring minds want to know,’ ” said Wren.
“No,” said Michael, grinning at her. “It was … maybe I saw it on
Entertainment Tonight.”
Wren gave him a teasing smile. “Oh, well, then … it must be true.”
“C’mon,” he said.
“We’re just in the talking stage,” she told him. “I don’t wanna jinx it.”
“It’s such a fabulous idea,” said Michael.
“Brian’s wife is gonna be on
Entertainment Tonight.
” This was Thack.
“Is that right?” said Wren, turning to Brian with the dimmest of smiles. Michael braced himself.
Brian nodded. “They’re taping this weekend, as a matter of fact.”
“My,” said Wren, “that’s quite a coup for … you know, someone local.”
There was a definite edge to this remark, but Michael found it forgivable. Mary Ann, after all, had bad-mouthed Wren on the air.
“She’s pleased about it,” said Brian.
“You should be there,” said Wren. “Can’t they use a husband?”
“She wanted me there,” he replied.
“What’s the matter? Afraid of the camera?”
“I dunno.”
“Shouldn’t be,” she said. “That chin would look great on camera.” She turned to Michael for a second opinion. “Doesn’t he have a great chin?”
“Great,” said Michael, deadpanning.
Thack laughed and exchanged glances with Brian, whose embarrassment was evident.
“It’s like a little tushie,” she said. “Two perky little hills.” She squeezed her own chin in an effort to create the same effect. “A plastic surgeon could make a fortune.”
They all laughed.
Wren winked at Brian, granting him clemency, then turned to Thack. “So … are you two … you know?”
Thack looked puzzled. “What … me and Michael?”
“Yes.”
Thack hesitated so long that Michael took over. “We’re buddies,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Thack. “We just met.”
“I see,” said Wren, nodding slowly. “You guys are worse off than I am.”
They drove back to Cazadero an hour later. Their arrival was heralded by a sally of yaps from a neighbor’s toy poodle. The people in the pink trailer had built a fire, from which sparks ascended like fireflies into the blue-black velvet sky. There seemed to be more stars than ever.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” said Thack, as they climbed out of the VW.
“Oh,” said Michael. “O.K.”
He and Brian entered the cabin, flipping on lights, kicking off their shoes. Brian went to the kitchen sink and began washing the dishes from lunch.
“I’ll get that,” said Michael.
“No problem,” said Brian.
Michael sat down at the kitchen table and watched Brian for a moment. “You feel O.K.?”
“Fine.”
“All day?”
“Yeah. I feel much better, actually.”
“Good,” said Michael. “Must’ve been a bug.”
“Yeah.”
“Wren’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “She is.”
“Is there more of that lemon cake in the fridge?”
“I think so.”
Michael went to the refrigerator and found the ravaged Sara Lee tin. “She likes you,” he said, plunging a fork into the cake.
“I know,” said Brian.
When Thack returned to the cabin, Brian was fast asleep; Michael was pretending to be. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched as Thack shucked his clothes and shimmied under the covers on his studio couch.
Thack rolled over once or twice, then threw back the covers and got up again, crossing the room to Michael’s bed. He knelt and brushed his lips softly across Michael’s cheek.
“Good night, buddy,” he said.
Michael opened his eyes and smiled at him. “Good night,” he said.
A piney zephyr passed through the room. Down by the creek-bank, a frog was making music with a rubber band.
F
EELING ACHY AND COTTON-MOUTHED, DEDE AWOKE AT
first light, to find D’or sitting by the river’s edge.
“There’s coffee if you want it,” said D’or, barely looking up.
“Is Anna awake?” asked DeDe.
“No.”
DeDe sat down next to D’or in the sand. High above them, a huge black bird was circling Wimminwood in a sinister fashion. She had seen these birds before, but this one struck her as an omen, a harbinger of horrors to come. “I wanna go home,” she said. “Why?”
“I just do, D’or. I don’t like what it’s doing to us.” D’or hesitated, then said: “You’re overreacting.”
“I am not.”
“You’re letting that … business at the gate get to you.” DeDe looked at her and frowned. “Who told you about that?”
D’or shrugged.
“It’s all over Wimminwood, isn’t it?” D’or looked away.
“Why are they blaming
me?
That’s what I wanna know.”
“Nobody’s blaming you. It’s over, hon. Put it behind you.”
“O.K., fine,” said DeDe. “It’s behind me. Let’s go home.”
D’or heaved a forbearing sigh. “Hon, I promised the kids we’d stay a few more days.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because they
like
it here, O.K.?”
“When did they tell you that?”
“Last night, DeDe. When you were out getting drunk.”
“I didn’t get drunk.”
“Whatever.”
“I drank. There’s a big difference. Why were you getting the kids on your side?”
“What?”
“You never ask their opinion unless you want their support. What’s the big deal about staying here?”
D’or dug a little trench in the sand, then patted the sides methodically. “There’s lots we haven’t done.”
“Like what?”
D’or shrugged. “The Holly Near concert. Sabra’s doing a poetry workshop this afternoon.”
“A poetry workshop,” echoed DeDe.
“Yes.”
“Since when have you been interested in poetry?”
She felt the whip sting of D’or’s eyes. “Since when have you asked?”
“Oh, c’mon.”
Using her palm, D’or smoothed over the little trench. “If you wanna take the car, go ahead. The kids and I are staying.”
DeDe and Anna were still sunning when D’or returned from Sabra’s workshop. It was almost four o’clock, and the willows were awash with gold.
“Don’t burn yourself, hon.” D’or sat down on the sand next to Anna.
Anna held up her Bain de Soleil bottle. “I’m wearing number eight,” she said.
“Yeah, but you’ve had enough.”
Anna turned to DeDe. “Mom,” she intoned, elongating the word until it sounded like a foghorn. “Do I hafta?”
“I think so, precious. Go on. Hit the showers. I’ll be up in a little while.”
As the child scampered away, DeDe turned to D’or. “So,” she said. “How was it?”
“Interesting,” said D’or. “You should’ve come.”
DeDe shrugged. “I know what she’s all about.”
“Oh, you do, huh?”
“Or
not
about, as the case may be.”
D’or shifted irritably. “Meaning?”
“Well, she’s not talking about being a lesbian, is she?”
“She talked about it plenty.”
“Sure.
Here
. Just not on
The Today Show.”
“She’s a feminist,” said D’or. “She’d lose her effectiveness if people knew she was gay. Get real.”
“You’re the one who’s not being real.”
D’or picked up a pebble and flung it into the river. “Since when did you get to be such a radical?”
“Is that radical?” DeDe asked. “To expect people to tell the truth?”
“When didn’t she tell the truth?”
“All the time. O.K…. When she was on Merv Griffin. She kept talking about the kind of man she likes.”
“Well … a lesbian can like men.”
“But she doesn’t say that, does she? She deludes people, D’or. It’s the same as lying. She’s a tired old closet case.”
“She’s a great poet,” said D’or.
“Well,” said DeDe. “Did you learn anything?”
“Do you really care?”
“You must’ve written something,” said DeDe.
“No.”
“You just listened?”
“If you must know, I assisted her during the reading.”
“Assisted her?” said DeDe, gaping. “Turned the pages? What?”
“Very funny.”
“Well, tell me.”
D’or raked her fingers through her hair. “One of the pieces required … interpretive body work.”
DeDe blinked at her. “Dancing?”
“Yes.”
“You danced while she read?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, swell,” said DeDe.
“I considered it an honor.”
“Who wouldn’t?” said DeDe.
D’or rose, dusting off the seat of her pants. “I don’t need this.”
DeDe followed her back to the tent. “You see what she’s up to, don’t you?”
“She enjoys my company,” said D’or.
“She enjoys your tits,” said DeDe.
D’or’s eyes flashed again. “She relates to my energy. She thinks we knew each other in a past life.”
“Oh, please.”
“Back off, DeDe, O.K.?”
“Fine.”
“I like talking to her. She likes talking to me. It’s as simple as that.”
DeDe snorted. “You think she wants you for
conversation?”
D’or spun around. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop acting like such a … ex-model. Wake up and smell the hormones, D’or. The woman is in heat.”
D’or crawled into the tent. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She grabbed her knapsack and crawled out again. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
“Where are you going?”
“Use your imagination,” said D’or.
Night fell, and D’or did not return. Anna and DeDe ate dinner together at the chow hall, then went to visit Edgar at Brother Sun. He showed them a wallet he’d stitched and a knee wound he’d incurred during a wrestling match. He seemed happy enough, DeDe decided; her escalating misery would find no company at the boys’ compound.
On their way back to the campsite, they passed a large tent where two women in mime makeup were entertaining kids with “a festival of non-violent, non-sexist cartoons.” Recognizing two of her playmates inside, Anna asked if she could join them, so DeDe left her there and continued the trek on her own.
She was taking a shortcut across the hearing-impaired zone when she saw her tomboy friend from the bulletin board. Polly something.
“Hey there,” said Polly, waving merrily. “How’s it been goin'?”
DeDe rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask.”
Polly smiled. “That was you on the gate, wasn’t it? When the men got in.”
Jesus. Had there been a press release?
“I remembered you were heading for your work duty,” Polly explained, “so I just figured …”
“Well, it’s over now,” said DeDe, maintaining her stride.
Polly walked alongside, swinging her arms, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I thought I might see you at that emergency meeting. That’s the only reason I went.”
“What emergency meeting?”
“You know … the one ol’ baldie called.”
“Rose Dvorak?”
“Yeah.”
“She called a meeting?”
“A major one,” said Polly.
DeDe’s stomach constricted. She wondered if they’d discussed her—her ineptitude, her Neanderthal stepfather, her dubious loyalty to Womankind.
“They’ve beefed up security something fierce,” said Polly. “Rose thinks it’s gonna happen again.”
“Bullshit,” said DeDe.
Polly shrugged. “Seemed pretty random to me.”
“It
was
random,” said DeDe.
“They’re getting off on it. That’s what I think. Rose just creams at the thought of declaring martial law. Slow
down,
DeDe.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you so wound up?”
“I don’t know.” She stopped suddenly and looked at Polly. “Yes I do. My lover is messing around with Sabra Landauer.”
Polly blinked, then emitted a long, low whistle. “You
know
that?”
“I suspect it.”
“Well, that’s different.”
“She’d like to,” said DeDe. “I can tell you that.”
“Who wouldn’t? Sabra gets more offers than Rita Mae Brown.”
DeDe glowered at her. “If you think you’re being comforting, Polly …”
“All I know is, this wife swapping isn’t fair. If you’re gonna have an affair, have it with a single girl. That’s what we’re here for.”
DeDe thought for a moment. “Does Sabra have a lover?”
“She did,” said Polly. “She dumped her last month.”
“Great,” said DeDe numbly.
They began walking again. When they passed a stern sentry brandishing a walkie-talkie and a nightstick, Polly tugged on DeDe’s arm. “See what I mean?” she whispered. “The troops are on Red Alert.”