The Love Sucks Club (16 page)

“You’re wondering why my sister and I didn’t just open a sewing
store or something,” she grins.

“Not exactly, but it does seem a little unusual.”

“My sister read something in a magazine about how stores like
these were coming out of the closet, to use one of your people’s terms.”

Raising my eyebrow, I give her a piercing look.
“My
people?”

She laughs and continues. “We thought it would be a money maker.
We decided it would be decorated nicely and beautifully lit with comfy chairs
and classy window displays. We had to do a lot of fighting to get our permits,
but eventually Sheba, my sister, had an affair with a guy in the city council
and he pulled some strings.”

I find other people’s lives fascinating. I’m half-tempted to ask
Nadia out for lunch so I can get her entire life story. “Is your sister still
alive?”

“Oh yes,” she answers. “She just had her eightieth birthday.”

“Does she still work in the store?”

“Of course.
She works a couple days a week.
We’re winding down now. Neither of us is as young as we were.”

“Your daughter doesn’t want to take over the store?”

“No, not in the least.
She lives in the States now. I
have a son who might consider coming back after he retires, but that’s another
fifteen years from now, and I somehow don’t see myself selling plastic penises
at eighty-five.”

Sam approaches the counter with the men in tow as several more
people enter the store. It’s time for me to stop taking up her time. Sam slams
an armload of penis and vulva shaped ice trays on the counter and pulls her
wallet out of her shorts.

“Sam, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Come on, it’ll be funny.”

“I want no part of this.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m going to store them all in your
freezer until the party.”

“Nadia, it was such a pleasure to meet you,” I say, holding out my
hand to shake with her once more. She smiles warmly and tells me to come back
anytime.

I introduce Nadia and Sam. When the men make it to the counter, I
excuse myself to wait outside so I am not tempted to look at the basketful of
merchandise that they have picked out. There are some things a person doesn’t
need to know.

Standing on the sidewalk, I lean back against the building,
waiting for the group to finish so we can move on. Maybe I should buy the sex
shop and run it for the rest of my life. I’d meet a lot of interesting people.
People shuffle by and many give me a second glance. Whether that’s because they
recognize me or because I’m standing outside of an adult store wearing a cock
t-shirt is hard to tell. I decide to make a game out of trying to make eye
contact and smile at everyone who looks at me. Some of them smile back. Most
cast their eyes away as soon as they know that I know they’re looking. I
probably should have majored in sociology or psychology. I could have gotten a
grant to study the social habits of humans within a small, closed in ecosystem.
Minus the addition of several thousand tourists every day, the population is
pretty small here. On the west end, it is pretty common for me to run into a
handful of people I know whenever I go out. On this side of the island, it
isn’t as likely. That said
,
there’s my ex-girlfriend
sauntering along the sidewalk in front of me. She hasn’t seen me yet and I’m
trying to decide if I should duck back into the shop or not. As I’m debating
with myself, Sam and Manny come out of the shop and I turn toward them so my
back is to my ex.

“Where’s Bob?”

Manny rolls his eyes. “He decided at the last minute to get three
more pairs of undies because they were on sale. We left him debating on the
colors.”

Sam holds up her bag. “I got all of the ice trays.”

“Don’t look, but she-who-shall-not-be-named is across the street.”

Of course Sam immediately looks. “Well, she’s not looking this
way. She’s talking to someone in the doorway of that store.”

Half-turning, I move my head just enough to see her out of the
corner of my eye. She isn’t looking in this direction at all. She’s engrossed
in conversation with a long-haired woman in a flowing purple dress. The store
is one I’ve been in a few times. It’s a new age type place. They sell crystals
and tarot cards and the woman in the purple dress gives readings. Another woman
offers
reiki
out of the same store. I can’t remember
the purple dress lady’s name, but I remember she once sold me a book on lucid
dreaming. She’s seems pretty legit, but I just can’t buy into a lot of the
hokey stuff she sells.

“They seem to be pretty involved,” Manny says, as Bob comes out of
the store, carrying two bags.

“Who seems involved?” Bob asks.

“My ex-girlfriend and that woman over there,” I answer.

“They’re involved?” Bob looks fascinated. “Oh, I love lesbian
drama.”

“Not like that. I just think we can get away while they’re
talking.”

“Without a doubt,” Manny says. He moves to the other side of me
and his bulk almost completely obscures my ex from view. We all move as one in
the direction of the boardwalk. When we are ready to turn the corner, I can’t
resist looking back over my shoulder. She-who-shall-not-be-named is looking
straight at me. I can feel the ice in her glare all the way over here. I swear
several minutes pass as we stare at each other and in that span of time, I can
feel a hand gripping my chest, pulling the air out of my lungs. Sam puts her
hand on my arm and the spell is broken.

“Are you all right, Dana?”

“I’m fine,” I reply. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

Manny claps a hand across my shoulder. “Now that is a stellar
idea.”

Glancing back one more time, I see that my ex is still staring and
now the woman with the purple dress is looking at me, too.

We get around the corner and I shake my head, trying to forget
about it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam whispers, putting her arm around
me.

“I just hate the way she was looking at me.”

“How?”

Shaking my head, I move on, pretending not to hear the question. I
didn’t want to talk about it to Sam, but for a second there, I was pretty sure
that my ex wanted to kill me.

Chapter Fourteen

Standing in my sister’s apartment, surrounded by tarps, tape, cans
of paint, and facemasks, I ask myself yet again why I agreed to do this.

“Seriously, Susannah.
Between playing tourist with
Sam, rescuing Olivia, getting kidnapped by my ex, avoiding crazy dream lady,
and doing your household chores, I barely have time for myself. How am I going
to keep buying clothes for you to steal if I don’t have time to work?”

Ignoring me, she continues doing the cut work along the ceiling.
“So then what happened?”

“Then the guys bought us lunch and we walked back to the cruise
ship pier.”

“So how did you end up on the news?”

“Sam and the guys had several of the free rum samples meant for
cruise ship passengers. When one of the ships started moving, she went running
down the sidewalk with her shopping bags in hand yelling, “Wait for me,
wait
for me.”

Susannah bursts out laughing. “That’s so like her.”

“At any rate, she ended up slamming into a garbage can, flipped
completely over it, and fell into the guy who plays the steel pan drum outside
of Sandy’s on the Strand.”

Giving up the pretense of working, Susannah leans against the
ladder and laughs. “I wish I had been there to see it.”
           

“While she extricated herself from the man’s drums, and Manny and
Bob laughed their asses off, I talked the drummer out of calling the cops.”

“So where did the news come in?”

“Channel eight was doing a piece on crime against cruise ship
passengers and the reporter asked if we wanted to be interviewed. Before I
could say no, Sam agreed. So there we were on channel eight in our matching
cock shirts.”

“Can I have that shirt?”

“Yeah, but I’ve already cut off the sleeves and the neck.”

“Of course you did.”

We paint together in silence for a while. I really do like my
sister and I enjoy her company. She just knows how to push my buttons. That’s
what comes from being raised together, I guess. No one else in the world can
ever really understand what it was like to have our exact formative experience,
but a sister comes closer than anyone else. It pains me to see her becoming
more and more like my mother, though. Thomas stopped over on his way to work to
bring her doughnuts and coffee and she barely even thanked him. When I
questioned her on it, she said it was the least he could do since he wasn’t
going to be here to help her paint. I started trying to explain to her that
people want to feel appreciated, but then I decided it wasn’t worth it.
Besides, with my track record, I’m not really in a position to give dating
advice to anyone. Sometimes I wonder if Voldemort and I would have worked out
if I hadn’t still been so fucked up over Fran. No, she has a host of other
personality problems that really have nothing to do with me. Still, time was
what I needed. I should never have considered getting involved with someone
else so soon after Fran’s death. I don’t know what I thought would happen. I
know my ex never got over the story in Annabelle Lies, though I feel I had
given her enough background that she shouldn’t have been overly shocked. It
really was a work of fiction, after all. I explained that while it was based on
my own life, I was writing it as fiction and as such, there was a lot in there
that simply wasn’t true. I don’t know how much she believed. To be fair, I
don’t think I ever really treated her very well. Not that I want to get back
together. I just think if I had been honest with her and with myself, I would
have cut ties long before I did.

“Earth to Dana,” Susannah says.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Obviously.
What’s on your mind?”

“I’m wondering if I ruined Jackie’s life.”

Shocked, Susannah rocks back, holding on to the ladder for
balance. “Whoa, you said her name. Should I notify the papers?”

“Well, even Voldemort had a name in the books.”

“Whatever will Sam say?”

“She’ll cry.”

Moving over with my roller, I make it to the last wall. Susannah
has actually done a great job with the cut work. I have to give her
credit,
she had most of it done by the time I got here.
Still. “You owe me one, you know.”

“Yep.
Let me know when you decide to
decorate your house and I’ll give you some fashion advice.”

“I don’t need fashion advice. I like my house the way it is.”

“There’s barely anything in it.”

“That’s the way I like it. Besides, Frank doesn’t like flashy
fabrics.”

“Of course he doesn’t.”

There’s a tap on the door and Susannah yells, “Enter.”

Olivia pops her blonde head in the door and smiles.

“Oh, good, you’re almost done.”

Raising my voice an octave to match hers, I squeal back at her.
“Oh good, you’re here to finish up.”

“Shut up, Dana,” Susannah says before Olivia can open her mouth.
“Olivia is going to take us out to dinner.”

“Lovely. Where are we going?”

“There’s this new sushi place on seventh. Thomas took me there
last week and it was delicious.”

“Sam hates sushi.”

“Sam isn’t invited,” Olivia sniffs.

“Au contraire, my friend.
I told her I’d get dinner with
her when I was done painting. I’m done. I’m going to get dinner with my best
friend. If I am also to get dinner with you, you’re going to have to put up
with her.”

Putting away the paint and wrapping my roller, I turn my back on
her. I don’t really hate Olivia. I don’t even really dislike her. She just
doesn’t have a great deal of bearing on my world.

“Fine,” she snaps. “You can bring along your jerk best friend.”

Gritting my teeth, I count to ten in my head. “Sam isn’t a jerk.”

“Why do you always defend her? She’s a total asshole.”

I whirl around, making her jump. “You know, she wouldn’t be so
mean to you if you didn’t complain all of the time. We all have problems. We’re
all trying to get by. It’s just you seem to have this need to play some kind of
pity me game, being so overly dramatic about everything that happens to you.
People get flat tires. People sprain their ankles. A lot of people have it a
lot worse than you do and they don’t complain nearly as much.”

Spinning back around, I knock into Susannah’s ladder with my knee,
and take a stumble onto the floor in front of it. The paint tray on her ladder
shelf tips and burps a huge splash of paint onto my neck and back.

I breathe deeply for a three count.
“Of course.
Of course this happened.”

Olivia and Susannah are pointedly looking anywhere except at me as
I stand up and grab a roll of paper towels.
“Of course.
Of fucking course.”
Toweling myself off furiously, I
walk into the bathroom and look into the mirror. I have smears of sea blue
paint all over my neck and coming around to the front. There are
dots
of paint on my ear and in my hair. One side of my
ponytail is completely blue. Shaking my head, I walk back into the kitchen and
look at my sister. She meets my eyes and we both lose it, laughing until we’re
crying.

Finally, Susannah wipes her eyes and gets herself under control.
“Well, at least it’s a pretty color.”

“Text Sam and ask her to meet us at the restaurant. I’m going to
take a quick shower.”

I jump out of the shower and vacate the bathroom so Susannah can
get in there. Clean and naked, I stand in front of Susannah closet looking for
something to wear. What kind of idiot shows up to paint without bringing clean
clothes. I guess I could have had Sam meet me here and bring me something to
wear, but it’s too late. Listening to make sure the shower water is still
running, I rummage through her drawers until I find a pair of men’s khakis that
look as if they’ll fit. Checking another drawer, I find several shirts that
used to belong to me. I throw one on and check myself in the mirror. Slicking
my hair back into a ponytail, I nod and flex at my reflection. Not bad looking
for a middle-aged woman.
Might need to lose a couple of
pounds around the middle.
I’ve been noticing a bit of a paunch lately.
Susannah walks in wrapped in a towel as I’m sucking in my stomach and flexing
my biceps. Embarrassed, I lower my arms and pooch out my gut.

“What?” I grunt, pretending to scratch myself.

“You’re the picture of class,” she says, dryly. “When you’re
finished admiring yourself, can you get the hell out of my room so I can get
dressed?”

Saluting sharply, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the room.

Olivia is standing in the hallway applying makeup in the mirror.

“Jesus, Olivia.
It’s
eighty-eight
degrees. How long do you think that makeup is going to stay on your face?”

“Mind your style, Dana, such as it
is,
and I’ll mind mine.”

“Whatever.”

Stomping out to the living room, I gather up my keys, wallet, and
cell phone and wander outside to wait next to the jeep. My cell rings as I
close the door behind me.

“Hello?”

“Dana?”

“This is she.”

“It’s
Esmé
.”

Sighing, I consider pretending that I have a bad signal. “How are
you?”

“I’d like to see you.”

“Well, I’ve got plans.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

“I have plans tomorrow too.”

I hear her sigh at the other end. “Look, Dana. I don’t mean you
harm. I’m just looking for some answers.”

“And I’ve told you that I don’t have any answers for you.”

“Then let’s agree that we can just get together and talk about
Fran. Maybe we can help each other.”’

“I don’t need help!”

Aware that Susannah and Olivia have come out of the house, I hold
up a finger to let them know I need a minute.

“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a thing.”

“So when can I see you?”

“I’ll see you at Rick and Karen’s party next week.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“That’s what you get.”

I hang up and launch myself into the back of the jeep. Susannah
deftly swings the jeep around while Olivia complains that the top being down will
ruin her hair. She pulls a bandanna out of her purse and wraps it around her
head. Leaning against the back seat, I stretch my legs over the center console
and cross my hands behind my head. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing my
hair around, and I’m on my way to have dinner with my sister and my best
friend. Life could be worse. Closing my eyes, I relax my neck and try to clear
my mind.

I’m sitting on a blanket with Fran. She’s playing the ukulele,
badly. If it was anyone else, I’d beg them to stop, but I love everything that
Fran does. Her attention never stays in one place long enough to get
particularly good at a thing. I found it for her at a flea market and couldn’t
resist picking it up. Fran loved music and she wanted to know how to play everything.
She could just make out recognizable noises on the
uke
after six months of practice. I had offered to buy her formal lessons, but she
said she couldn’t possibly stand the discipline of having to show up to a
regular appointment and have set practice pieces. There’s an ant crawling on
her leg, so I reach over to scoop it off and set it to the side of the blanket.
She smiles at me and my heart explodes. I’ve never felt like this before. When
she smiles, I feel a warm wave of pressure move up from my stomach to my heart
and my chest swells with an emotion that I can only describe as love,
inadequate though the word seems. She looks at me as her fingers strum out the
little tune. As I reach up to touch her face, she shifts slightly, and the
glare of the sun from behind her head makes it difficult to see her face.
Peering into the light, I’m convinced that all I can see is a skull – a Fran
shaped skull sitting on top of her skinny shoulders. A shudder runs through my
body and though the thought of touching her is suddenly repulsive, I reach out
anyway. She shifts again and her face is back. I stroke it gratefully, blinking
back tears. “Dana,” she says. “Am I going to die?” I tell her that we’re all
going to die and she shakes her head, either to refute me or to show disdain
for my petty answer. She says that she knows I’ve seen it happen, she can sense
it. Trying to shield my emotions from her is useless. Somehow, she always seems
to read me. “Dana,” she insists. “I want to know if you’ve seen me die.”

“Dana.
Hey, Dana.”
Susannah’s voice yanks
me out of my dream or whatever it was. She’s standing next to the jeep, staring
at my face. Olivia is applying fresh lipstick in the rear view mirror. The
color of it has me fixated. It reminds me of something, but I can’t pull it
into my head. “Dana,” Susannah calls again. “Wake up. We’re here.”