“Look at them!” I said.
“They’re having a ball!” Maggie said, now awake too.
“I love Christmas, don’t you? I mean, this is kind of what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
The noise continued and soon the house smelled of coffee brewing and bacon frying. My aunt and uncle left, threatening to return sometime around noon.
Momma had a huge bowl of pancake batter mixed up and she stood by the stove.
“Let’s go open presents,” I said, “we can feed the hoards later!”
“Good idea!” Momma said. “Call the boys!”
And we did. There was something for everyone. Crazy, fuzzy, purple bedroom slippers for me from Maggie, a secondhand red union suit with a drop back door for Maggie from Henry that he bought from the Army Navy store, an armful of comic books for Henry from Timmy and, of course, a turtle named Rufus went to Timmy from me. Momma had scraped up enough money to buy us all new sweaters, all of them cotton, crewneck pullovers, kelly green. My worst color. Well, it’s the thought that counts. I put on the bedroom slippers and gave Maggie a kiss.
“They’re great!” I said. “I’ll wear them to church!”
“You will not!” Momma said, pretending to be horrified.
Maggie put on the union suit over her nightgown, unbuttoned the back flap and let it drop open. Henry started laughing.
“I’ll wear it to the next dance at school!” she said.
“You’ll get arrested for indecent exposure!” Momma said.
“You’ll get peeee-pneumonia in your butt if you do!” Timmy said.
“Timmy!” Maggie said.
“Hey! We forgot the stockings!”
Furious competition ensued to see who’d get to them first. It didn’t matter, because in true democratic style, they all contained the same things—a Hershey’s bar, a pack of Juicy Fruit gum, a Sugar Daddy and a handful of Fire Balls. At the bottom of each one was a twenty-dollar bill. That was a fortune, in my mind. One by one, we all threw our arms around Momma and thanked her.
“Gosh! Where’d you get all the dough, Mom?” Timmy said.
“I’m rich!” Henry said.
“Thanks, Momma,” Maggie and I said.
I realized then that she hadn’t opened our gift so I reached under the tree and pulled out the big box, wrapped in green-and-red-striped paper, and handed it to her. She opened it, unfolded the tissue and pulled the robe from the box. It was pale blue quilted polyester with a front zipper. She stood in front of the big mirror and held it up to herself, smiling at her reflection. Half-dancing, she turned to us, waiting to be paid with her pleasure.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, “really beautiful.” She choked back her emotions and we did the same.
“Let’s go make pancakes!” Maggie said.
“Yeah, I’ll help!” Timmy said.
“It’s the most beautiful robe I’ve ever had,” Momma said, “and I’m not just saying that. It really is. Thank you so much.”
Experience told me that Momma was spiraling down again and it wouldn’t be long before she was in the trouble zone. It was a good thing that Aunt Carol and Uncle Louis were coming back for dinner. Maybe they could slap a little sense into her. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about how she was feeling, just that I wanted a Christmas without tears.
After breakfast, the turkey was in the oven and an old Perry Como–Bing Crosby movie was on the television. Momma had jammed the bird in the oven and gone to her room. We were on our own and had made it through the morning. Maggie and I set the table.
“Getting to be like déjà vu, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” she said. “This is good practice for when I’m Mrs. Pettigrew.”
“Right. Mrs. Pettigrew. Right.”
“He wants to get married after we graduate.”
“You mean he wants to go all the way now,” I mumbled.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing,” I said.
Timmy and Henry came flying through the room, saving me from Maggie’s wrath. If she wanted to screw Lucius Pettigrew and get knocked up, ruin her reputation and wreck her life, that was her business. It really was!
“I’m taking my bike out for a ride,” Timmy said.
“Me too!” Henry chimed.
“Just be back soon, okay? Dinner’s at two-thirty!” I said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Timmy said, and slammed the screen door.
“Yeah, yeah,” Henry echoed, slamming the door again.
Arms filled with plates for the table, I watched Timmy take off on his bike with Henry behind him. As soon as he got to the street, Timmy started riding with no hands.
Aunt Carol and Uncle Louis rolled in at one-thirty. “Where’s your momma?” Uncle Louis asked.
“Taking a nap,” Maggie said.
“Is she always lying up in the bed?”
“No,” I lied, “she just tries to nap when the twins are napping. Gonna be a long day.”
“Yeah, well, Carol, go tell her we’re here.”
There was no reason for me to fan the fire between my mother and uncle. He had started up picking on Momma right where Daddy had left off. At that stage of the game, I’d heard enough fighting to last me for the rest of my life.
“Do you want some coffee, Uncle Louis?”
I was so polite, even Maggie gave me the hairy eyeball. But what the hell, I figured, may as well be nice.
“Sure, honey. Thanks.”
Christmas dinner, which we finally ate at four P.M., was really and truly delicious. I ate myself stupid and needed a nap in the worst way, especially after picking at the pumpkin piecrust. I love crust. I decided to lie down for a while. But then I saw Livvie roll up in the backyard in her nephew’s car. She got out and went to the backseat for a big cardboard box. I went out to greet her.
“Got y’all something y’all need in this family!” she cried.
“What?” I yelled back.
“Come on see, chile, come on ’eah and see!” She put the box on the ground. A little pink nose stuck itself up over the edge. It was a fat little puppy with a red bow around his neck! I was wide-awake now.
“He name be Rascal! He ’eah to keep y’all company!”
“Oh, Livvie! He’s so cute! Oh, thank you! Timmy! Henry! Maggie! Come see!” I was shrieking.
In an instant, they flew down the stairs and bent over the box. He was as cute as a button, part collie, part German shepherd and part Heinz. We let Henry lift him out and he tumbled and jumped and hopped all over the place. We played and laughed until I thought we’d get sick from it. Aunt Carol, Momma and Uncle Louis watched from the steps, Momma and Aunt Carol each with a twin on her hip.
Livvie stood by watching. “It’s a good Christmas, ’eah, Miss MC?”
“Yes, Livvie, it’s a fine Christmas after all.”
Eighteen
Simon
1999
ON Friday, Tom came by to pick up Beth to do some Christmas shopping and have dinner. His color wasn’t good but his mood was fine.
“Hi,” I said, opening the door, “how are you feeling?”
“Not bad for a guy going through chemo,” he said.
“Yuk, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, “my hair’s falling out, but thing’s could be worse. I got a call from Youngworth this afternoon. I’ve been accepted into an experimental group through the Medical University—some new medication that allegedly makes tumors disappear.”
“Tom that’s truly wonderful,” I said, suddenly chilled at the hope of a cure, “let me call Beth.”
I climbed the steps to the second floor to get Beth and also a sweater for myself, thinking that we needed a miracle for Christmas. Just one little miracle, God, please. It’s me, Susan Hamilton Hayes, God, I don’t ask for much. Yeah, sure.
I told Beth that Tom was waiting for her, rummaged through my chest of drawers and threw a cardigan around my shoulders.
Downstairs I foun
d them reading the Post & Courier. Beth was showing Tom my column.
“I knew it!” he said. “I saw this yesterday and said to myself, that’s Susan or I’m a monkey’s uncle!” He smiled at me. “You are one funny gal, you know.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“‘…at my age, if I were sexually harassed, I’d send the guy flowers,’” Tom read. “Susan, don’t you realize that every feminist group in America must be torching the Post & Courier right about now?”
“Read the rest of it, counselor,” I said, “then you can work my gears.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, and continued reading it to the end. “Ah, now I get it. It’s the unwanted advances that makes harassment into harassment, right?”
I took a small bow. “Thank you very much,” I said.
“You should’ve been a lawyer, Susan,” he said, “there’s not enough humor in the courtroom.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. “See, even sexual harassment can be a riot, right? Everything is point of view.”
“What made you decide to do this?” he asked.
“Your daughter and her mall habit,” I said and Beth groaned.
“Susan, everything’s gonna be all right,” he said. “Give your momma a kiss, Beth. I’ll have her back by nine.”
“No problem,” I said.
It has been one hell of a year, I thought to myself. But I was not unhappy with how life was playing itself out, with the exception of Tom’s cancer. His twit girlfriend, Karen, was still in the picture. Even after everything she had put him through he was still seeing her. It seemed to me that their relationship at this point was more grounded in guilt than love—her feeling guilty for making him delay his surgery, and him seeing her to remind her that his state of health was her fault.
For once in my whole history with Tom, I finally felt that things were as they should be. I had come to the conclusion that Tom and I were better off living apart. And Michelle Stoney had been right to advise me to leave the divorce proceedings in place. That guaranteed consistent and necessary support. His health was the bigger picture at the moment and we were focused on that alone. If Tom’s treatments didn’t work I’d be a widow.
Christmas was right around the corner. We tried to be cheerful and not dwell on Tom’s cancer too much. Maggie continued to plan the holiday for our family and Beth and I looked forward to seeing everyone and most especially to New Year’s Eve. The Millennium. It was a time for profound thinking and serious resolutions. It was also a season for great parties.
The following week, I stopped by the Post & Courier and turned in another batch of essays that I’d been working on. I ran into Max Hall.
“Ah! Ms. Hayes!”
“Susan, please.”
“Right! Susan! You’ve been on my mind. Glad I caught you. The missus and I are planning a small holiday party. Julia is dying to meet you and has been twisting my arm to ask you to come. Next Friday at our house. I’ll drop an invitation in the mail and hope you’ll join us.”
“A Christmas party. What a wonderful idea,” I said. “You know, Max, I could use a little fun in my life! Tell Julia that my calendar is embarrassingly open and that I’d love to come.”
“Yeah, and you can bring someone too, if you’d like. Hey! Bring Jack!”
“Very funny,” I said. Couldn’t he just forget that one dumb remark?
As soon as I got home and hung up my jacket, the phone rang. Beth catapulted from the back porch in, it seemed, midair to grab it. It occurred to me that I should insist she try out for the track team and I made a mental note to do just that after Christmas.
I assumed it was for her because the phone didn’t ring that much for me. I was wrong.
“For you, Mom!” she called.
“Who is it?”
“Dunno, some man,” she called back.
I went to the kitchen phone and picked it up.
“Suz? Is that you?”
“Oh, God, this can only be one person,” I said. It was Simon Rifkin.
“Yeah, it’s me. So how are you?” he said.
“How am I? Let’s see, well, I’m okay, actually. Yeah, I’m fine. How are your broken fingers?”
“What?”
“Well, I figure your fingers must’ve been broken or I would’ve heard from you.”
“Go ahead, give me some heat. I’m an old man now, you know. Have some respect for your elders.”
“Right. So what’s the deal, hotshot? I heard you were living in Atlanta doing germ warfare.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Dr. Germ. I love the little boogers. Love seeing them squirm.”
“Yeah, you always did like to make things squirm.”
“Yep, some things never change. Hey, by the way, I’m sorry that I missed your call about Thanksgiving. I was in Hawaii and then I went straight to Zurich to deliver a paper. I just got back last night. I swear to God, I don’t even know what day it is much less what time zone. I would’ve loved to have spent the holiday with you guys, but I was gone.”
“Good excuse. Okay, you’re forgiven. God, it’s so good to hear your voice, you old dog.”
“Yeah, you too. So what’s the deal with you? Still married to that asshole?”
“Actually, no. And you? Still married to your mail-order child bride?”
“No, it’s a heart-wrencher. Fact is, the little witch up and left me for her personal trainer.”
“So did you kill the bastard, or what?”
“The bitch. Her trainer was a woman,” he said. “Helga the big mean Swede.”
I burst out laughing and realized that Beth was staring at me like I had three heads.
“Oh, Simon. That’s awful,” I said. “I mean, it really is. Really.”
“Yeah, really really. Oh well, I hope they’re happy.”
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” I said. “She said you worked too much and she was lonely and she couldn’t help herself.”
“Exactly. The sins of the father and all that. So, you have a daughter, right?”
“Yep. Beth. She’s gorgeous. She’s fabulous. She’s everything I never was.” I took the phone into the laundry room and pulled the door closed.
“God on earth, she must be ugly and stupid.”
“No, goofball, she’s beautiful and brilliant!”
“So were you, Susan. Jesus, you sound exactly the same. Are you still the same?”
“No, I’m an old bag. I gained three hundred pounds, my teeth and hair fell out and I live in a bathrobe, taste-testing cookies for Nabisco. Why don’t you come see for yourself? Maggie must have a floor you could sleep on or a hammock. Or a bed of nails or something.” I hadn’t had this much fun in twenty years.
“Great idea. I’ll call her.”
“God, I hate your guts for not calling me years sooner. I have missed you like you would not believe.”
“Yeah,” he said, “kiss my bee-hind. You could’ve called me too, you know.”
“You’re right. I stink. Listen, let me know when you’re coming to town so I can polish my dentures.”
“I will. Obviously, I need to rest up for this one.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Oh, you sound so grown-up I can’t believe it. What are you gonna do when I show up, Susan?”
“I’m gonna deal with you, Simon, like I should have twenty years ago, that’s what.”
“Thirty,” he said.
“Whatever,” I said. “I’m serious.”
“Jesus, I’d better start taking my vitamins.”
“And eating oysters.”
“God, I’ll be there tonight.”
“Yeah, right. You can dress up like Santa and give me a thrill.”
“My God forgives you for this endless diatribe of anti-Semitic remarks.”
“My Lord forgives you for not accepting Him.”
“The queen of retorts. Marry me.”
“Marry you? Bump you, jerk. Call me more than once in twenty years and I’ll consider it.” I couldn’
t stop laughing and neither could he. We were literally screaming at each other. The creep still thrilled me. God, I loved him. I always had, I always would.
“Fine, big mouth,” he said. “I’ll call you next week, as soon as I get over my jet lag.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be holding my breath.”
We hung up. My heart was dancing all over my chest. Beth opened the louvered door and saw me sitting cross-legged on top of the washing machine, hugging the remote phone.
“Oh, God, he is the funniest man on the earth,” I said.
“Well, I guess, Mom! God! Was this somebody you love or somebody you hate? Just who the heck is Simon?”
It was time to come forward and tell her about Simon.
“He’s this guy,” I said, thinking that was good for an opener. “You want to make some tea or should I?”
“You’re too wrecked. I’ll do it,” she said.
She filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil. I finally climbed off the washing machine and replaced the phone in its cradle. I sat on a bar stool and watched her work. It was role reversal and it was about time.
“How about some cheese and crackers to go with it?” I said.
“If you’ll tell me the truth, I’ll give you food,” she said.
“Simon was the undisputed love of my life at one time,” I began. “He was also my stepbrother.”
“Okay, start over. First of all, I knew that Grandpa Stanley had a son named Simon, but I never knew about this! Isn’t that incest or something?”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Gosh, Mom, you’re cussing, like, wildly! I heard you say some very bad words on the phone with him.” She was teasing me.
“Well, you don’t know Simon. He could make a nun do the limbo at a church picnic.”
“Yeah, right, so give me the skinny! Come on!”
“Okay, it was like this. Simon was a boarder in our house after Daddy died. I took one look at him and discovered that I was a woman. At first it was a mad crush, and then I really fell in love with him. Head over heels. Gone. Down the tunnel of love in a boat with no rudder.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yup.”