The First Wives Club (42 page)

“Brenda, you’re a genius,” Elise said. “1 think this could be a wedge.”

“And what about Gil? We haven’t done anything about his car, yet.”

Brenda reminded them. “But, you know, I’d like to see him punished physically.” In response to the looks of disgust she saw on her friends’ faces, she continued, “I know, I know, you white people don’t get violent. But in the Morrelli family, it was an eye for an eye.

Hey, remember, Gil hit Cynthia. He should be beaten. And we should take an oath on it. A pact signed in blood.”

Annie shook her head. “No violence. None. Absolutely none,” she said firmly.

Then she smiled. She filled a champagne flute with bubbly and set it on the table. Then she took off her wedding band—the ring she couldnt bear to remove. There!” she said, and dropped it in the glass.

“Okay!” Elise said, looking at her two friends. She laughed and nodded Then she pulled off her ring and flung it into the golden glass.

Brenda, grinning, struggled to get hers off her fat finger, finally did, and threw it into the flute, which toppled over, smashing on the floor.

Brenda laughed and nodded. “I’m proud of us.”

“Me, too,” Annie agreed.

“Then we’re agreed.” Elise turned to Brenda. “And no eating sweets for the duration.”

“And no drinking,” Brenda reminded her. “Not till it’s over.”

”And it ain’t over till it’s over,” Annie reminded them both. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

.

That night, Annie lay in bed awake, grateful for her friends and wondering if they would succeed. She thought about Aaron with Dr. Rosen. She thought about her daughter, and De Los Santos.

Brenda was also awake, alternately wondering if Tony and Angela were enjoying Aruba with their father, if she could sneak into the kitchen unheard, and if she was now, officially, a lesbian. She thought of Diana and wondered some more, and wished for, longed for, craved, just one candy bar.

In her room, Elise, desperate for a drink, considered slugging down her perfume, but wound up eating four of Brenda’s Milky Ways and finally fell asleep near dawn.

Sylvan Glades.

Miguel drove Annie’s gray Jaguar smoothly along the Taconic headed north.

Getting out of the city was always confusing, but from this point on the trip was direct. Annie could relax. Well, at least she could try.

She hadn’t been to see Sylvie since Memorial Day, but now the six-month resettling period was over and it was time to see how she had adjusted, if the special community was right for her.

Annie took a deep breath and turned to stare out the window. It was nice to be with Miguel, he respected silence, seemed comfortable with it.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said aloud. They were about seventy miles north of the city, in New York’s Dutchess County. The trees were coated with an icy shell that sparkled in the sunlight, and clean snow was still on the ground.

The Jag moved easily over each rolling hill, effortlessly eating the miles, gliding her toward Dr. Gancher and her daughter. She smoothed the skirt of her Donna Karan cashmere sweater dress. What would her nana say was appropriate dress for visiting your retarded daughter at her new group home? Annie shrugged. Peering at the barren trees that lined the highway, she could see the waves of drifts that the snow had made across each enormous meadow. “I’m always surprised there are farms so close to the city. This is real country.”

“Yes, and it’s always here,” Miguel answered quietly. “When I see all this, I think of myself hemmed in down there at Federal Plaza and wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

Annie nodded. Lately she’d found the city even more crowded and oppressive than usual. More crowded and more lonely. Of course, the holidays make things worse. Maybe if Sylvie isn’t happy here, she suddenly thought, I’ll sell the co-op and the cottage and live in the country with her, somewhere cheap, where Sylvie could find some kind of help.

But where would that be? she wondered. And what about me? Could I get along without my friends? Brenda made her laugh, no matter how bad her jokes. And Elise always had a plan, plus she was loyal, and solid.

And there was her work at the hospital. Maybe it didn’t add up to a lot, not much to build a life on, but it was something. Oh, but she missed Sylvie. It had been so long since she’d seen her.

She checked herself again. Visit Sylvie with an open mind, free of tension, anger, or projection. First Sylvie, then Dr. Gancher. One thing at a time. She was going to do each thing until everything was done. Too bad she already felt exhausted.

Annie relaxed, letting her eyes rest on the white landscape until Miguel turned off the Taconic and stopped at a red light. Then the tension returned.

It was this money thing. Annie had never thought of her family as rich, not really rich, like Elise, but of course wealth was relative.

And her family was wealthy. They had the house on Main Line, and the camp in the Thousand Islands. And they’d gone up to Palm Beach. Annie smiled. Never down to Florida, always up to Palm Beach. It was part of the code of the wealthy.

Of course when she was growing up she knew there were poor people. But poverty had had no reality for her, Annie had thought everyone lived as she did. Her trust fund wasn’t large, but it paid for Smith College, and for her clothes after she dropped out and married Aaron. It wasn’t until then, when she was first married and they had almost nothing that she saw firsthand how impoverished families lived. Then she finally realized how money, or the lack of it, affected her own kind.

Well, it had affected Aaron, but not her. She had found living frugally rather charming. She was ashamed of herself. A Marie Antoinette in a milkmaid’s costume. Playing at being poor, while Aaron wrote. And then she had gotten pregnant with Alex, and Aaron had gone to work to earn more money. Eventually they’d had enough, and then .

more than enough. And her father had given them the down payment on the Greenwich house.

But now there wasn’t enough. Only this time it wasn’t cute, or charming, or unimportant. It was frightening. And I don’t have any experience in dealing with these things, she thought. How do you beg them not to throw your child out of school? How do you tell them you don’t have enough money? Think of the welfare mothers who have to fight for their children daily. Annie was washed with a wave of shame.

In ten minutes they were turning into the driveway of Sylvan Glades.

The English Tudor mansion never failed to impress her and since her very first visit she had expected Laurence Olivier to emerge from the doorway to greet her. The house with its huge, snow-covered lawn was like a movie set, or a dream. Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley.

She sighed. The sight of the other buildings brought her back to reality, however, cracker boxes, ugly modern cracker boxes. Couldn’t they have … ? Well, she stopped herself.

Apparently they couldn’t. And if they had, the tuition would be even more astronomical.

Annie and Miguel walked to the reception office and were greeted by Dr. Gancher.

“You’ve had a beautiful day for a drive,” she said, smiling at them.

“I’ll take you to Sylvie, and then you can come back here and we can talk.”

Sylvie was working at the canteen. Annie saw her at once. She was clearing dishes off the tables and scraping the plates before carefully stacking them on a tray. Annie felt a stab at her heart when she saw Sylvie’s face. Never before had Sylvie looked so absorbed, so satisfied. She glowed. In fact, in the six months since she’d seen her, Sylvie seemed completely changed. Annie had a moment of panic.

Now I am completely alone, she thought. Miguel fetched two cups of coffee from the machine, and when he returned and pulled out a chair for her, she sank into it. They watched Sylvie silently, until she looked up and noticed them.

“Mom-Pom!” she cried. “You’re here! You’re here!” She ran to Annie and hugged her. “Come here! Look!” Annie bit her lip and breathed deeply, but Sylvie didn’t notice. She was too excited.

“Here’s what I do, Mom! Look! When somebody eats something, they leave their plate and I can take it away. It’s my job.” She was very excited, and saliva had accumulated at the corners of her mouth, as it always did when she was excited. Other residents and staff were sitting at tables, but no one turned to look. Annie stifled her need to wipe her daughter’s mouth. ‘I have to do it every day. No misses.

And Jim says that I’m the best bus-girl he ever had here!” Annie felt a twinge of guilt. This was what Sylvie had needed, and this was what Annie had selfishly kept from her.

“I’m so proud of you, Sylvie!” Annie said, hugging the beaming girl.

“And you look wonderful!” She was wearing a jumper, too tight across her chest, and the blouse under it was missing a collar button. But these things don’t matter, Annie told herself, and smiled. “How’s Pangor?”

“Great. He caught a mouse! And do you know what he did with it?”

Annie winced. Did the residences have mice? she wondered. “What, honey?”

“He put it on my pillow!”

“Like a present to you? I once had a cat that did that. She even caught rats,” Miguel said.

Annie wondered where it had been that Miguel lived with rats. Then she remembered herself and forced a smile. She turned to Miguel, who was also smiling. “Oh, I’m sorry! Miguel, this is my daughter, Sylvie.

Sylvie, this is my friend Miguel. He drove me up.”

”Hello, Mr. MeiKell,” Sylvie said. “I’ll clear your cup for you.”

“May I finish my coffee first?” Miguel asked.

“Yes.” Sylvie giggled.

“Then that’s a deal,” Miguel said.

“I have to go back to work now,” Sylvie told them, her flat face serious.

“Work during work time.”

“I understand. And I’ll come back after work is over,” Annie told her.

Annie left Sylvie at the canteen, but once outside she turned to watch her through the window. Her daughter, scraping plates. Her life’s work. Miguel stood silently beside her. Once Jim, the supervisor, came over and spoke to Sylvie, who nodded earnestly.

Annie sighed. What was her own life’s work, to make scraping plates look so unappealing? Holding the hands of burn victims? Writing useless, unfinished short stories? Sylvie was happy. Who was she to judge?

“It’s very hard,” she said aloud. Miguel nodded and said nothing.

Annie left Miguel outside and walked across the snowy campus to Dr. Gancher’s office. All right. Sylvie first, now Dr. Gancher. For it was clear to Annie that this place was right for Sylvie. She walked along the avenues of massive plane trees, their limbs coated with snow and ice. The beauty, the restfulness, reinforced her feelings of the rightness of the place for Sylvie.

It gave Annie courage.

Dr. Gancher’s door was ajar and she called to Annie to come in and sit down.

‘So, what do you think of Sylvie?” the doctor began.

“She looks good. And she’s trying so hard. People always think that—” “There are none of those people here, Mrs. Paradise,” Dr. Gancher interrupted. “That s what makes Sylvan Glades a haven. But it’s more than that. We have great hopes for Sylvie. In a month or two we’d like to try a job for her in a restaurant in town.”’ “Really?

So soon?” Annie felt a lurch in her stomach. People could be so cruel, so impatient. ‘Is she ready?”

“She has been very well raised.” Dr. Gancher looked straight at her.

“I think she has plenty of resources.”’ Annie didn’t thank the woman, but felt herself tremble from the approval. She took a deep breath. I understand. It’s just that … it’s almost more than I hoped for.

I’m very grateful.”

“Now it’s my turn to understand, Mrs. Paradise.” Dr. Gancher smiled.

“When parents come here for their first visit, it’s often a disturbing experience for them. The six-month separation is hard. They may have struggled for years and made many sacrifices and changes in their lives, to give their children happiness. They feel that their children can’t survive without them. Then they come here and see their children living on their own and happy in the bargain.

The parent can feel unnecessary and even intrusive, and perhaps foolish for having kept them home so long.” The doctor smiled at her. “Sylvie needed the time alone. And she needed her years with you, too. All of them. I’d say your timing has been amazingly good.”

Annie did not respond immediately. She looked at Dr. Gancher with a keener gaze. In this pause she took in the largeness of this person’s character and involuntarily contrasted it with the smallness of such people as Gil Griffin, and yes, of her husband, Aaron.

“Thank you,” she said finally. And if only she could just leave now, secure in her happiness for her daughter. But she’d have to start the other business now. She’d have to. “Unfortunately, though, I do have a problem.”’ Annie sat up taller in her chair.

“Yes?”

“I’m not able to make the quarterly payment in full and I need to .

.

. I hope to pay … to get completely caught up by spring.”

Dr. Gancher looked puzzled. This obviously wasn’t the objection she was prepared for. ‘I’m surprised, Mrs. Paradise. We are aware of Sylvies trust fund. There isn’t a child with Down’s who doesn’t deserve a Sylvan Glades.

It’s my heartbreak that so few can afford one. Since there are so many candidates, ability to pay is one of our first Considerations Your ability to pay was never in question.”’ She paused. “What happened?”

How could she explain? You see, Dr. Gancher, Sylvie’s father is a liar and a thief. Oh, God, she couldn’t. Why the hell didn’t Aaron come here himself and beg, she thought bitterly.

“My husband, my ex-husband, made a bad investment,” she finally blurted out.

Dr. Gancher’s puzzlement gave way to a look of concern. ‘But what about the future? You know we feel that long-term residency is the only really beneficial treatment. An aborted stay does more harm than good, not only for Sylvie, but for the community.”’ “Dr. Gancher, I promise that I’ll get the money to restore Sylvie’s trust fund. I do have some resources. I’m just not very liquid right now. I see how happy Sylvie is and I won’t allow this life to be taken from her.