What Would Oprah Do (17 page)

“Close?”

“Oh honey, you’re going to enjoy these
. They’re the best thing about summer. You want them here around the deck. You plant them in the ground, on the other side of the railing. You’re going to need to watch them, guide them as they make their way up the wooden rungs. When they start getting tall, you’re going to need to make sure they don’t get tangled.”

I started rolling up my sleeves so I could get to work. Vivian put up her hand to stop me. “You know how you’re always telling me that I should write a book about gardening?” She asked.

I nodded. It’s amazing how much knowledge she has in her head, all these tiny tricks that she’s learned that seem to make all the difference. If nothing else, I wish she’d write them down for my benefit. “If I were going to, it would have only one chapter: moonvines. They’re special.”

I wondered if they were finicky like orchids, if I was going to ruin them in less than a week. “Are you sure you want me in charge of them? What if I mess them up?”

“You won’t mess them up. You, my dear, have a green thumb.”

“Whatever that is, I don’t have it. I have killed every plant I’ve brought into my home, even the snake grass. Christian said it’s also called Mother
-in-Law’s tongue because no matter what you do to it, you can’t stop it. So I bought one, and apparently you can stop it.”

“Doesn’t count.”
Vivian said, shaking her head. “You’re talking about indoor plants, which are totally different. You don’t have a lot of light in your place, so move the snake grass to the place that gets some sun and see what happens. But that’s not what a green thumb is about. A green thumb is about sensing what the plants need. Two people can go to a nursery and buy tomato plants, and one person’s may get big and tall and produce big juicy tomatoes and the others may hardly flower at all. People will say it’s about the soil, sun and rain, which is part of it, but it’s not the whole thing. Those plants don’t live by set directions, like give me this much water at this time, every other day. They’re living things, and can be affected by random elements in different ways. When you have a green thumb, you have a perception of what those needs are and you adapt to the plant. Look what you did over there.” She motioned to where the herbs are growing in with the dahlias and the irises. I’ve been in charge of watering them since we planted the bulbs.

“I didn’t do anything. I followed your instructions and watered them. I held the hose.”

“You did a lot more then holding the hose. You adjusted the nozzle to the right amount of pressure, as you sensed it, for those plants. Then you watered it for a certain amount of time. You sensed how much water they needed.”
Her gardening gloves were dirty, so she wiped the sweat off her brow with her arm. “That’s instinct, plain and simple. And when you have an instinct about plants, it’s called a green thumb.”

Trying to feel for myself, the confidence that Vivian had in me, I set out planting the
moonvines. I planted each one a hand’s width apart, leaving space for their roots to grow. Vivian likes to wear gloves, but I don’t. It feels good to me, the dirt on my fingers, connected to the earth. I find myself praying, that in time the beading will come naturally to me, that it will fall into a rhythm like this where I can lose myself in it. The burden of my car begins to lift. Then I pray for Lainey, that her weight will be lifted too. That she won’t feel burdened by things either, that she will find peace and be brave enough to do the right thing. Each vine went into the ground, with hope and a prayer.

Dear Oprah,

I wish people would leave you alone about marrying Stedman. It’s hard enough to be a single woman, with people always asking you about your personal life, as if it’s their right to know. It must be that much harder for you. I’m sure Maya Angelou probably gave you some wonderful words of wisdom, and it doesn’t even bother you now. But if it does still get under your skin, I really do understand.

Regards,

Cate

Ps. If you do want to marry Stedman, I hope he knows how lucky he is.

I finally get the call. The first boutique has sold all of my hats. She has a check, for me! When I go to pick up the money, she asks when I can get her more inventory. She has asked for fifty this time. I tell her I will have to get back to her later in the day with a time frame. I don’t want to look at the check in front of her, and I don’t know if it’s enough for me to buy materials. Apparently one woman loved them so much, she bought ten of them, to give them as gifts. I’m so excited that I call Kay from the parking lot.

By the time Kay meets me at the wine bar, I have already finished a glass. The weather is perfect Atlanta spring, and I wish I had one hat left so that I could wear it now. At least then I could cover up my hair.

“Oh my God, Cate, I’m so proud of you! This is huge!” She hugs me.

“You have no idea!”
Now that the fear of failing miserably has passed, I can finally tell her that I spent my savings on supplies.

“You did what?”
I could tell by the look on her face, the older sister thinks-you’re-so-stupid look, that she didn’t approve.

“See why I didn’t tell you before? But look, it turned out fine. If I hadn’t invested the money, I wouldn’t have had the hats to sell. I tried to get a loan from the credit union, but they wouldn’t give me one. It was my only choice.”

“Ok,” she
said, her tone clearly reluctant to admit that I was right. “What if they hadn’t sold?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I would have figured something out. I left myself a month’s worth of living expenses in the bank.”

“That’s good.” Kay said, but the look on her face made it clear that she wanted to lecture me.

“But it did work. That’s the point, that’s why we’re here celebrating! Anyway, what’s new with you? I
stopped by your place twice last week and you weren’t home, on school nights.”

“I’ve been seeing that guy.”
Kay answered.

“Does he have a name yet, or are you still afraid to jinx it?”

“His name is Adam. He’s nice, he’s funny. He’s cute, but there’s no spark. And I keep going out with him, like if I give it a chance maybe we’ll develop some chemistry. There’s nothing wrong with him, but I’m tired of feeling like as long as he doesn’t have some major flaw, I have to give it a chance.”

“Why would you have to give it a chance? If you’re not feeling it, quit seeing him.”

“Because Cate, I’m thirty-five and single.”

“I’m thirty-two and single.”

“That’s different. You were recently engaged, you’re not far removed from possibility. I haven’t had a serious relationship in years.”

“Removed from possibility? Geez, Kay, I don’t know where you got this shit, but you need to return it.”

Kay shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like, dating in your thirties. You were with James for two years, and you haven’t been dating since you broke up. It’s different, and it’s only gotten worse since I turned thirty-five.”

“Kay, if this is about the men with
kids thing, you’re probably meeting more men with kids because you’re an elementary school teacher. You just need to go out more.”

“It’s not that.
It’s other people, like I have to come up with an explanation why I’m thirty-five and single, never married.” Kay fanned her face with her hands. I know this move. She always does this when she’s trying not to cry, and it rarely works. “Oh shit.” She dabbed around the inner corners of her eyes with a beverage napkin. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional, could be PMS.”

To an onlooker I would seem cold, seated across from her
and giving no reaction when she is obviously upset. But if I did anything, worst of all would be if I moved to hug her right now, she would start bawling. Kay would not want to bawl in the wine bar, so I sat and waited.

When her eyes were successfully dried, she resumed. “It’s like I have to explain what’s wrong with me, why nobody wants me.”
She immediately began fanning her face again.

“Who thinks nobody wants you? What the fuck? You could have married the wrong person if you wanted to. You could have a boyfriend right now. That guy Dennis from the coffee shop asks me about you every time I see him. How have you turned the fact that you don’t want to settle, that you want the whole she-bang, the right guy for you, into nobody wanting you?”

Kay looked like I’d asked her to solve a calculus problem in her head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s like if I said I feel like I have to explain why I’m single, why I wasn’t enough for James, why he cheated on me.
Different, but equally ridiculous. Kay, I’m not just saying this because you’re my sister, I’m proud of you. At any time you could have decided that you were lonely and wanted to be with some Mr. Almost Right, and you haven’t. You’re waiting until the real thing comes along, and I think that’s fucking admirable.”

“Thank you.”
She sniffed. “I wish other people saw it that way.”

“Who?”
She didn’t answer, confirming what I thought, some bitchy teacher at her school had said something that made her feel like shit. This had happened before, some unhappily married and bitter coworker, who was probably jealous of Kay, had made comments to Kay implying that she wasn’t complete because she wasn’t married.

“
Kay, remember what you told me when Barbara used to make snide comments to me all the time? You said that the only person who defines me, is me. That I was too smart to let her opinions affect what I thought about myself.”

Kay agreed with her own advice, commenting on how smart it was. I hoped she took it to heart. Her thinking that nobody wanted her was sickening to me. Later that night when I went to bed, it haunted my thoughts. How often, I wondered, do we let other people change how we see ourselves? Why is it that unless you’re a narcissist, it’s so much easier to believe the bad about yourself than the good?

Dear Oprah,

I realize that if there was ever the slightest possibility that you would read one of my letters, this will be the email that causes your staff to block all future emails from me. All the same, I have to send it. I have to be honest with you.

When you announced that the next season would be your last of the Oprah Winfrey Show. I wanted to be happy for you. I knew that you must have your reasons. You’re the wisest person I know. Ok, so you don’t know me, but I feel like I really know you. And I was heartbroken. You
were moving on, and I wasn’t ready.

You have been a constant for most of my life, every weekday at four o’clock. As pathetic as it may sound, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. I always planned on going to a taping of the Oprah Show, and if I was lucky it was going to be when you had your Favorite Things show or something. Now that ship has sailed. And I haven’t sorted out my life yet. I never really thought about your show ending,
but I wouldn’t have thought it would be when I need you most.

I’m sorry this is such a miserable email, but it’s the truth. Because the truth is I’m still wishing that you would adopt me.

Regards,

Cate

There are no two ways about it; I’m going to have to buy more chiffon. I have enough beads and I ordered more hats, but the boutique owner said the chiffon had added a level of charm that made all the difference. She seemed much more excited than she was when I first showed them to her, and thought we should raise the price, which seems like a good idea to me too since I’m worrying about paying my bills. After spending all of the money I made on more chiffon, I was less than eager to hear that the other boutiques had sold out of them as well. I worked with all of the materials that I had, and was still short but trying to think of it as a good thing.

Jill got tickets to see Diana Krall at Chastain Amphitheatre. She said she wanted to go, and invited me along, but I know better. Jill doesn’t own one Diana Krall CD, she bought them because she knew I wanted to go and couldn’t afford the tickets.

It was warm spring weather, with a light breeze, so I decided to wear one of my hats. They weren’t so big that they would block anyone’s view, and I could be my own advertisement. I chose my favorite. The chiffon was light
green, the shade I bought that looked like Vivian’s dress, with angled beads that looked like jade mixed with opalescent round beads. They complimented each other perfectly, and really stood out in contrast against the black hat. I wore my dark Cookie Johnson skinny jeans that were featured on Oprah and a black dressy tank top, so the hat would stand out.

“My God,” Jill said, when I got to her place. “You definitely have an eye for what works. I’m so proud of you!”

I let myself be proud of me too, and off we went to the concert. Diana Krall was amazing, perfectly clear voice, but with a depth that defies her age. The fact that she played the piano while she sang reminded me of the awe I feel when I watch a hockey game, because not only do they play something similar to a mixture of la
crosse and rugby, they’re doing it on ice skates. Here Diana was singing with a beautifully well trained voice, and tickling the ivories with incredible skill, like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she covered Joni Mitchell’s Case of You, I could hardly wait until the end of the song to applaud. Even though Jill would rather be at a Brooks and Dunn concert, I could tell she was impressed too. I had such a good time I didn’t wish for a minute that I was there on a date, even though we were surrounded by couples.

When we got up to leave I heard a clicking noise on the concrete beneath me, followed by a few more in rapid fire succession. “What was that?”
I asked Jill, who was already bending over to see if we had dropped something.

“Hold still.” She said, and more clicking sounds followed. “Oh, shit!” She said, as she stood up, holding out her hand. As I tilted my head to see what she was holding, there were little clicks everywhere. In her hand was a mixture of green and opalescent beads. I should have taken off my hat right then and there to prevent more from dropping, but it didn’t occur to me until I was bent over, trying to collect them. Luckily Jill thought to remove it from my head and place it on the bench behind us, then proceeded to help me gather the beads, which were rolling around in front of us like a game of marbles.

By the time we got back to Jill’s place I had calmed down considerably, which was a very good thing considering that at one point when we were collecting the beads from the floor, I thought I was going to have a panic attack. Actually I thought I was having a heart attack, but when Jill pointed out that heart attacks don’t generally happen as a result of broken jewelry, I had to agree that it was anxiety induced.

At first I thought that maybe I didn’t have the knots tied correctly at the end of the strand, but I quickly realized that the clasp would had to have broken as well. I felt much better when Jill brought it to my attention that this hat was the last one I made today, and I had probably rushed after deciding that I was making one to wear tonight. It wasn’t that I wanted to believe her, it seemed the most logical explanation since I had tied every knot with pain staking detail and this was the first one I had made quickly. It was still unnerving, so I was glad that I had planned to spend the night at her place and could get liquored up.

I woke up with a hell of a hangover, but I had promised Vivian I would help with the garden today. Spring is her busiest time with the garden. We had to spray all of the newly planted vegetables to keep aphids away.

Aphids feed on plants by making a small puncture, and eating on the sap that is released. The plants need the sap to carry nutrients through it. Aphids are really small, but they can destroy a plant. In my mind they’re the Barbara’s and Alexis’s of gardening. Because in addition to the fact that aphids are mostly females, even when it seems like they’re not doing a lot of damage, their presence can eat you alive from the inside.

Lady bugs eat aphids, so it’s a good sign to see them. They were in abundance at Vivian’s, but you can’t leave all the work to them. You see ants would be predators of aphids also, like the lady bugs. But when the aphids eat the sap out of the plant, they leave behind a sticky substance, which is the part of the sap they can’t digest. The ants will eat that substance, and can actually get high off of it. Then the ants, to maintain their supply of the goods, will actually begin to protect the aphids.

It’s a rather strange dynamic, but so is the dynamic between mean girls and their entourages. If there weren’t a network of tasters, liking what they get out of the deal, it wouldn’t continue so easily.

Vivian’s already outside, spraying the plants when I get there. My hangover will have no reprieve, no
coffee or time to sit before we get started. Luckily I took Tylenol before heading over, which should kick in soon. Buddy comes over to greet me, and I give Vivian a wave while petting his velvety soft head, trying to look cheery despite the pulsing behind my eyes.

We work side by side in silence, carefully spraying the plants a mist of protection against the aphids. Vivian’s lips are moving, and I wonder if she is praying. The quiet is working wonders for my head, despite the pressure I feel when I bend over. We pull weeds as we spray, multitasking. I lose track of time, in my thoughts, wondering when Oprah knew that she was on the right track. I wonder if it’s instinctive, or if you know all along. For some reason I can’t relax and enjoy the progress I’ve made with the hats. It’s not until all the plants have been treated, and Vivian asks if I want to take a lunch break with her, that I’m aware that hours have passed.

When we walk into the house Vivian asks, “Chicken salad, ok?”
I nod enthusiastically, and she pulls a container out of the refrigerator. It’s homemade chicken salad, with slivered almonds. She hands me a loaf of bread, and I assemble the sandwiches while she decides between her homemade jars of pickles. After she settles on dill, she brings the jar over, and puts one on each of our plates. “Should I put some music on?” She asks me.

“It’s up to you.”
I say, and then I tell her about how at home I always eat with the TV on. I know it’s a bad habit, but I hate eating alone in silence.

“I don’t watch television anymore
.” Vivian says. I wonder if she’s ever seen Oprah, and I have to ask. “Well I don’t live in a cave…sure, I’ve seen Oprah on at Betty’s or someone else’s house. I used to turn on the TV every now and then, but then one time I was watching, and I thought, this is just trash.”

Not that there’s anything to debate, but I wonder what specific trash would be a deal breaker for her. Was it when they showed that guy’s ass on NYPD Blue? That was a big deal at the time. I figure it was probably something like Melrose Place, but decide to ask anyway.

“No, it was a moisturizer commercial.” She answers. “After you turn sixty your bladder thinks every good laugh, hard cough, or sneezing fit is a time to let loose. It’s awful. One night I was watching a program, I don’t even remember what it was, and this model, who couldn’t have been a day older than thirty-five, comes on the screen talking about how to grow old gracefully. I thought, Fuck this.” Vivian quickly puts her hand up to her mouth, as if she’s horribly embarrassed. I couldn’t help but laugh, couldn’t even try not to. And as she looks back at me, it’s like she suddenly remembers that it’s just me, and she starts laughing too, like she told a dirty joke.

After we finish our sandwiches, I remind Vivian that I can stay all afternoon. I’ve told her repeatedly that I’m volunteering over my ten hours a week, that I really like helping her, especially now when there’s so much to do. She seems careful not to expect the extra help, so every time it comes up, I have to remind her again that I want to be there. I really love the time at her house, not
just in the garden, but whenever I take Buddy for a walk too. When you ask him if he wants to go for a walk, he tilts his head to the side, like he can’t believe his ears. It’s very endearing.

I decide to check my messages. Kay and I had talked about having dinner tonight, so I figured I’d see if she had decided yet. I had two voicemails from Rita at her boutique, so I was excited to check them. If more hats have sold, maybe we could go out. Her tone was almost
fussy, like she was put out that I hadn’t answered the phone, and her message just said to call her back. The tone was the same on the second message. “Cate, I need you to call me right away. There’s a big problem. Just about every hat I have sold has been returned in the past two days. The beaded jewelry is falling apart. The same thing is happening with the ones that are still in the store. I don’t know how you run your business, but this is certainly not how I run mine. Call me.”

I hung up reflexively, trying to make the information stop, without listening to my other voicemails. I sat on the couch for a minute, trying to gather my thoughts. Buddy took this as his cue to come visit, sitting on the floor beside me with his head on my knee. I felt like I couldn’t move or think straight either, for that matter. A few minutes later Vivian walked in. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” I answered, not meaning to lie. “Want to smoke?” I asked.

“Sure.” She answered, before adding, “Maybe then you’ll tell me what bee got into your bonnet.”

As soon as we got outside, and I lit my cigarette, I told her about the message. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”
I said, wondering if there was the slightest possibility that the hats at the other boutique were fine, or any way that I could fix the ones that weren’t.

“Why don’t you go ahead and call her back
?” Vivian said. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”

As soon as I finished my cigarette, I called her back, hoping Vivian could be right. She answered the phone on the first ring. “I got your message,” I said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this could have happened. How many of the hats have been returned?”

“Almost all of them,” she answered, but her tone was much softer than it had been on the voicemail.

“I’m sure I can figure it out and fix them.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option. I’ve already refunded their money.”
There was a brief pause before she continued. “I’m going to need to get the money from those checks back from you.”

My mind was reeling. I had already spent the money on more supplies, but I had to make this right.
“Of course.” I said, trying to come up with a solution while I still had her on the phone. “Do you think there’s any way I can fix the hats that I haven’t sold?” I asked, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt, realizing that I’m grasping at straws.

“I’m sorry.”
She answered, “My clientele is very picky, and I just can’t take a chance on it. I don’t know how to tell you this, but when I went over to check the ones in the display window, the beads started falling off as soon as I removed them from the hats. Without the beads, well, they’re just hats with fabric.”

“I am really sorry. I’ll get you a check right away.”
In my head I was already wondering how I would pay bills next month, since that was the only money I had.

“I’m going to be out of town for the rest of the week. If you want to come by Monday with a check, that’ll be fine.”