CHAPTER 7
DECEMBER 22, 2019
"Only for you," Mom shakes her head as we inch the car down Main Street, television vans on either side.
"Only for him," I retort as a pack of ski parkas with cameras aloft appear suddenly in the headlights.
She brakes sharply, her right arm automatically extending, pinning me against my seat. "This better NOT be for him."
I smile at the reflex as she returns her hand to the wheel. "I told you, I'm here for me." I gesture to the fogged windows and reporters, "They are not."
"You mean not yet."
I sink down, tucking my nose under her borrowed scarf.
She takes a left out of traffic onto the relative quiet of Myrtle Street. "What happened to A-1 Video?" I inquire as pass the building now wielding a CURVES sign.
"The Blockbuster out by the mall," she says with dismay. "But Anna's done a great job with Curves. I've been going three times a week."
"Mommmm," I smirk, giving her a mittened thumbs up. "Very impressive."
"The secret is earplugs. I can't stand the music they play so I just stuff my ears and then nod and smile at everyone. It's quite pleasant, actually. Now I know why your father always seems so relaxed."
At the mention of dad, I cock my head and study her. "How's he doing with all of this?"
"He's fine," Mom answers lightly.
"What about you?"
"I'm fine."
"Really?"
"Well…" She brushes hair from her eyes, "tired, of course, with the move and the holiday, and what not, but I'm fine."
"Really?" I ask again, trying to discern if she's lying just to me or herself as well.
"Yes."
"Your husband suddenly forces you into early retirement from a job you love and you're just fine?"
"YES. I'm fine and you're just running a little errand." I stiffen. Why does everyone have to know me so weell? "So," she lifts her shoulders, "now he wants to write a book in the sunshine and fish. And that's what we're going to do. It was just…really taking a toll on him, it seems. And we have to respect that."
Feeling the muscles around my eyes twist, I dig in my purse for my drops, squeezing the liquid in and blinking as it splashes onto my cheek. "No, of course. He's still on the Zoloft, right?"
She nods to herself, reassuring me as she traverses us through the recently plowing streets, slowing to a halt at each stop sign as she navigates the back way. "It's not like he didn't try at the library. Honestly, the people in this community. They hire you to effect change and then make it impossible."
"Unless you want to put in a Curves."
"Yes, then we welcome you with open flabby arms. You're still having the problem with your eyes?"
"Only when I'm tired. " And stressed. I wipe the condensation off the window and peer through the wet streaks left by the gloves as we emerge into a sprawl of lights. "Wow. The mall has definitely changed…it's sooo…"
"Oversized, gaudy, trumpeting the end of civilization as we know it."
"I was going to say 'much.'"
We haltingly circle the football-stadium size parking lot a few times, a salt-crusted sea of cars stretching out before us over every inch of asphalt. I bite the inside of my lip and look around pointlessly for a spot.
"Screw it," Mom breathes. She pulls onto the snow covered meridian in the lot and takes the keys out of the ignition. I crane my neck and look over the frozen parking lot dreading the long distance we have to go before reaching the entrance in this frigid weather. But she's already heaved her purse onto her shoulder. She gets out, slamming the door closed, and I jog against the wind to reach her and take her arm. She squeezes my mitten with her elbow and we duck our heads down for the trek.
"She said they'd be in the food court!" I shout back as we round the corner of the entrance entering the court filled with hungry people. "There!" I point to where I spot them sharing a burger at the far end table. As we make our way over I watch Sadie laughing at something with her boys and have that momentary pang of awe and jealousy…will I be at the boys' wedding still thinking, "Oh my God, Sadie MADE them?" Or worse, still be the spinster aunt with three hundred god children because everyone took pity on me? I raise my hand and wave; she beams.
"Fairy Jude, my dog threw up! I'm eating a cheeseburger and fries!" Devon stands on his chair to announce these two updates with equal emphasis over the blaring sounds filling the large area. Sadie laughs again, putting down her yogurt as he hurls his forty pounds into my arms. "You're wet." He puts his small hand to my cheek and pulls it away to examine. I return his feet to the chair.
"Victoria wanted us to get some exercise." I wipe the sheen of sleet off with a McDonald's napkin as Mom tears open her coat. Then I lift Damian up in turn, ruffling his bangs with my chin.
He kicks his mini blue moon boots out for me to examine. "Yours are brown."
"Pretty stylin'." Grinning at my borrowed Lands' End ensemble, Sadie stands to engulf us both.
"MOMMY! YOU'RE CRUSHING ME!" Damian wiggles down our legs.
"Jude Harrison standing in the Toronto Mall…and without a fake nose," she laughs in my ear, "look at you being all brave."
"Look at you," I murmur as I pull back, my hands going to her rounded belly, and again, the pang. "You look beautiful."
"Please, minus the braces, I'm having a second puberty. Actually, make that a third. Do you know what It's like to be buying Clearasil at thirty?" She leads Damian back to his seat and licks a napkin to wipe the ring of ketchup from his mouth.
"You're radiant, Sadie," Mom insists, "Pregnancy suits you."
"Well, drink me up 'cause this is my final round." She hands me the tray of wrinkled wrappers, which I carry across the floor and dump in the trash, stopping short as a posse of toddlers runs past. I pull back, narrowly avoiding tripping a laughing mother in hot pursuit. She steadies herself, giving me a once-over.
"Jude?" I'll be taking that fake nose now, please. She stops, blowing her bangs up and allowing the kids to race another lap. "Jude Harrison?" I blink for a moment at the thick dark hair and glowing skin, "Karma?"
"Oh my God, Jude!" To my utter surprise, she lunges, wrapping me in a hug. "This is sooo bizarre." She releases me, smiling with her whole face. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you," I laugh, her enthusiasm contagious. "How are you?"
"This is so crazy," she scoops up one of the lapping boys to her hip. "Grace and I were JUST talking about you in the car on the way over!"
"And is this your son?" I run a finger on the pink cheek of the child squirming in her arms, deflecting us from my auxiliary celebrity status.
"Johnny," she smiles tenderly as she ruffles his hair. "Yeah, I'm meeting Vince here do to family gifts. Our last year." She looks up at me. "We're getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. I'm shredding Speiderman."
"Oh, God, I'm really sorry to hear that," I say, sad our class is already joining the ranks of the didn't-make-its.
"Thank you," she reaches out and touches my shoulder. "But it's for the best for all of us." She shifts Johnny to her other hip.
"You look fantastic though," I admit, smiling warmly.
"THERE you are," Sadie calls, swaying over with Devon balanced on her boots. "Hey you!" she greets Karma as she lifts Devon to the floor, sending him darting back to the table. They exchange a truncated half hug over Johnny and Sadie's pending number three.
"Are you doing the poses at home?" Karma places her palm solidly on Sadie's belly. Not tentatively, the way I do it.
"I try! I do." Sadie grins in embarrassment. "When the boys nap." She turns to me. "Karma teaches prenatal yoga."
"I'm so impressed," I marvel.
She bounces Johnny back to her waist, turning intently to me. "You HAVE to take a class with me. I teach a whole roster at Yoga Is Life up there." She points to the escalators. "Just pass Journeys. You have to come. You'll thank me, seriously."
I nod, "That would be great."
"So your folks are selling the house?"
"Yup," practical stranger who knew before I did. "They're pulling up stakes and heading south."
"Yeah, Grace and I toured it when it was first put on the market. We're looking for a three bedroom. It's a beautiful space, really good positioning. But the energy." She waves her free hand, her face darkening. "Completely congested. And your old room, wow…the whole place needs to be smudged."
I look down to see ketchup smeared on my thumb. Sadie pulls a napkin from her pocket and puts it into my hands. "We've really gotta boogie." She shrugs apologetically.
Karma nods knowingly, "You're here to see him, huh?"
"Him?" I crumple the red-streaked paper, trying to signal to Mom with my pinky at my hip to bring the car around.
"Tom."
"Yup," I exhale.
"Babe." She puts a palm on my trapezius, pushing Mom's coat open to give me a brisk three-stroke swipe. "Let it go! God! Yoga would be so good for you! Your whole aura is starving for it! You have got to take that on when you get home…where do you live?"
"Los Angeles."
"Wow, he really did a number on you."
"No, no." I look to Sadie, my smile faltering. "I just hate living in the cold."
"Cold is a state of mind, babe." She stares squarely, making no motion to let us leave, signaling she is just beginning her list of what my aura is starving for.
I lean over and give her a quick kiss. "Great to see you, Karma."
"I teach tomorrow. Get the schedule from Sadie. Yoga saved my life."
"Definitely!" I wave good-bye. Glancing back I see them making their way to a blond guy waiting at a table with two overstuffed Target bags and my gaze pinballs from the man's beer paunch to the sun-damaged forehead to the utility belt to the duck boots to the US Weekly with Tommy on the cover he's flipping through. I tuck my head down and take Sadie's elbow, darting us out of Speid's visual range. "THAT is why I will only meet you behind closed doors. Everyone here is talking about the pathetic girl who got ditched by the rockstar…which I'm only known as in a forty mile radius of at the Pretzel Time." I point up at the hot-pink sign as we pass.
"Okay, everyone here is talking about their Christmas lists, for starters. And I hate to burst your reclusive bubble, but we are a far-flung group. Right now Peagan Mosely is probably thinking about how pathetic you are as he tends to his hydroponic lettuce in Vancouver. AshleyTwo is taking pity on you all the way down in Philadelphia, and I'm sure when she wakes up tomorrow Georgia will spell out 'Jude is lame' with breadcrumbs for the pigeons in New York's Time Square. Get a grip."
Chastened, I nod. "Hydroponic lettuce?
"Check out his Facebook."
"Okay, grip gotten. And who's Grace, her guru?
"Uh, no." We wait as a security golf cart passes, it's orange lights flashing. "Her girlfriend, soon to be life partner. You know it's legal here to wed with the same sex in Canada."
"Shut the fuck up."
Sadie grins widely, "No lie."
"Holy shit! And to think she used say all those things about us."
"I know," she laughs as we approach Mom and Damian playing patty cake. "Okay! Let's do this thing. I want to get the boys in bed by nine."
"Yes, I love you…and I appreciate being included," Mom acknowledges. "But you're right, I can only take about forty-five minutes of this…" she circles her arms at the crazed pre-Christmas masses surrounding us. "Before I expire. Why don't I take the boys to the carousel while you two do your thing." Damian and Devon look rapturously at the garland strewn carousel spinning slowly. "All right, gentleman. I'll take a hand from each of you, please."
She stands and the boys grab her hands, giving in to the magnetic pull of the plaster horses. For a second I feel the sensation of her fingers enclosing mine at that age, the assurance. "Forty-two minutes," she mouths, deftly steering them into the crowd.
"…had a very shiny nose…" My cranium reverberating with cheer, Sadie and I let ourselves be carried along by the shoulder to shoulder madness. Bypassing the chain stores optimistically featuring cotton "resort wear" in their windows, we somehow manage to jostle ourselves to the women's department of Lord and Taylor.
"Does this come with a free bikini wax?" I point at the mannequins sporting waistlines all of an inch above the crotch.
"Try finding a pair that covers your ass when you're pregnant. It's feast or famine. Either your tailbone's sticking out or you're in an army tent. How 'bout these?" She lifts washable suede toward me.
"Uh, no." I flip the hanger around to show her where they lace up. "I'd rather not go as a VJ."
"Didn't you get the memo? We're all supposed to look fourteen now."
"Portia Mills would be so bummed." I flip through midriff-baring sweaters. "She didn't even look fourteen when she was."
"She running the mini-mart out side of town now."
"Shut up!" I spin around and give her a shove. "Shut up! How do I not know this?"
"What?" Sadie smiles, savoring my reaction. "We never go out that way. Kwest had head that way for business and stopped for gas. He said, and I quote, she looks…tired."
"Tired!" I shake my head.
"Tired!" She throws her arms up, her purse sliding up to her shoulder. "Merry Christmas!"
"God, right back at you." We stare blissfully at each other. "Crap, what time is it?" Sadie asks, checking the clock on her cell phone and immediately pivots me forward.
"Twenty-eight minutes, move."
Damp with sweat, I grab anything that looks remotely spectacularly grown up and over you. Sadie throws her own selections on the pile, which is soon higher than my sight line. I follow blindly as she lead us, snaking around circular racks of velveteen and faux fur, to the hallway of dressing rooms. She stops abruptly and I tip forward the pile slipping. She catches it in her arms as we take in the long line of miserable women balancing their heavy coats with their potential purchases and pulling at their turtlenecks.
"This is ridiculous."
"I say drop to your skivvies or we're going to be here all night"
And I do. Soon I find myself in only my underwear, bra and my mother's knee high socks. Sadie, sitting on the makeshift cushion of her down coat, pulls her hair back with her scarf and gives me her vote. "Uh…No." "No." "Nope." "Definitely not!" "EWWW, where in the hell did you find that." "You're kidding right?"
I slump down in front of her and drop my head into my hands. "I've done this all wrong."
Sadie dries her eyes from her laughter at previous clothing choices, "No! No you haven't. But, Jude, come one why do you care sooo much what you're wearing?" She takes a wistful breath. "You've had great boyfriends. I mean, you date fabulous men…"
I snort and roll my eyes. Yeah, sooo fabulous I don't tend to stick with them…
"You have big sex," She pushes the remaining outfits off of her and moves them over to the side.
"Sometimes," I agree but throw out, "You have a husband."
"And he's amazing, but very very tuckered. You've got this amazing career, you meet famous people all the time who are lining up around the block just to work with you. And you get to fly to England in a moment's notice."
"I was in a plane, a hotel, and some cramped little pub trying to sign this band I really wanna produce. I could've been anywhere."
"With framed pictures of Amy Whinehouse?"
"No, probably not…that was cool" I concede.
"See? You've had an adventure," Sadie pulls out a pack of gum and pops it into her mouth, "And the farthest I ever got was visiting you in L.A"
"First off you're not eighty-the farthest I ever got- what's that? You still have a lot of time to travel…and you have a FAMILY!"
She crosses her arms over her protruding belly, "You still have your body."
"Which I work at for the express purpose of some day having what you've already achieved, which is a man who'll pledge to love me when I'm senile and a couple of great kids! Sadie, if I told you, in three hours, you could have a face-off with Chaz Swartz, what would you do?"
Her eyes glaze over and she smirks, "Take out a second mortgage…get Chanel to whip something up for me to drape this and minimize that. Get every square inch, new square inches included, highlighted, waxed, buffed, and polished so I'd look so fucking great that all of mankind would be stopped in their fucking tracks and little Chaz Swartz would have no choice but to regret his entire fucking existenc."
"Right, and all he did was tell the seventh grade you made a phone call," I laugh handing her a rejected sweater.
Sadie's eyes refocuses with renewed resolve. "Okay, let's just try to find you a decent pair of jeans an then get you some makeup. Here," She reaches into the bottom of the pile and tugs out an array of denim. "So what's your plan for the bastard anyhow?"
"What would you say to Chaz?" I inquire going through my jean choices.
"I told you I think he's in prison now, delightfully enough."
"Merry Christmas to you."
"That was last year's present. Ah, Carson Hill, the gift that keeps on giving. But should I ever decide to visit him and address that whole Chlamydia…"
"Malaria," I correct her with a laugh, trying on a pair of cute hip huggers.
"Right malaria. Oh my god, Chlamydia, can you imagine? Anyway, I would purse my perfectly glossed lips and ever so slightly push out my currently humongous cleavage and tell him that was SO NOT COOL!"
"Yes," I turn to show her where the majority of my butt-crack is exposed. "Basically along those lines. There will most definitely be a not very subtle theme of So Not Cool."
Handing me a different pair, Sadie shakes her head, "You don't have an exact plan? Really? We didn't pack any notes or bulet points in that bag?"
"I don't want to talk about that bag and it's been forever since I've given this any serious thought. Thank God. I mean, there was Plan A. We'd hear he'd been spotted singing for quarters on the sidewalk in L.A beside his empty guitar case."
"Sadly, no go."
"Plan B, One-Hit-Wonder. He'd fade into total pathetic obscurity, only resurfacing to appear gray and bloated on WHERE ARE THEY NOW?"
"Plan C," Sadie continues standing to stretch with one hand on her protruding belly and the other supporting her back, "Straight-up over dose. He got to mixed up in Hollywood and fame and entered the dark side. You'd show up at his funeral looking stunning with your gazillions record awards and his mother would tak your hand, look into your eyes, and tell you…"
Pulling on decent pair of jeans I cut her off and finish the sentence for her, "You know, dear, although he had such success, he never knew a minute's true happiness after he left you." And I would squeeze that wicked witch's old hand and respond, "I'm sorry for you loss." And I wouldn't forget to ask, "Was he really found naked in his own feces sucking his thumb?"
Maybe that's a little too much.
"Oh, how I did love Plan C," Sadie didn't seem to think so while she gave me a thumbs up at the pair of jeans I currently had on.
"I believe we made it until Plan Negative Z, involving locking eyes with him across the aisle at your wedding. At the end of the night, I'd meet up with him, I'd be in some sexy little something--apparently that dealt with a lot of…glitter…"
Sadie grimaces and shakes her head, "I STILL don't understand why Kwest thought Tommy would come back for that."
"Because those boys always want to believe the best about Tommy." I sigh and add, "I wish I could still be like that."
Hastily shaking her head, Sadie angrily spats, "Well, trust me, that well's run completely dry. Anyway cut to mad passionate almost.
"Cut to him regretting his entire existence," I pick up her cut, "I get on with my oh so fabulous life. There. That was the plan…the most feasible one anyway."
"And I love those jeans on you. Absolutely fabulous. What top are you gonna wear?"
"There's not one here I'm fond of. There has to be something in that old closet of mine."
"Fantastic, that leaves us with only a few moments to spare to get you the right makeup. You run to get that, and I'll pay for the jeans. Break!"
We both begin to step in opposite directions before I spin back, "Sad…"
She turns, her blue eyes scanning me. All I can manage is a goofy smile as my own are suddenly moist. "I know," her voice softens. "You too."
"You guys have your own rage and anger towards him. I totally understand that. So thanks for putting up with my self pity. All because he abandoned me…oh and wrote some seriously explicit songs about our sex life…"
Her expression darkens, "You know how his label just got bought out by Epic?" I nod, "Well, they've hit us with a cease and desist. They threatened, quote, AGGRESSIVE legal action if we don't drop it. We got the letter Monday. So Merry Fucking Christmas."
"Holy crap. What are you going to do?"
She shakes her head and cradles her belly, "Kwest says we can't afford to keep pouring money into this."
"And you?" My eyes catch the small tremor beneath her hand.
"I sat there in that fucking basement all those years ago," Sadie starts, her face flushing with anger, "I sat there along with you, while my husband wrote the melody for the longest running number one of the 2000's. So I can't let it go. I can't, the second we stop fighting it, it's like we are saying what Tommy did was okay." Closing her eyes, she steadies her breathing. "I can't get upset." My heart going out to her and sympathizing, I gently squeeze her arm and she snaps her eyes open. "So if you can make Rockstar Fuckhead's night even a little less oh so fabulous it will be a total success as far as I'm concerned. Okay?" I nod, a small smile flicking across my face. "But not looking like that."
"Right," I laugh, running a hand through my long hair, "I love you. You know that right?
Once again her face flushes, but this time in embarrassment and Sadie smiles shyly, "Geez! Okay, I have way too many hormones for this right now!" Laughing loudly she adds, "But I love you too! Now Go!"
"Okay, okay, I'm going."
"I mean it." She shoos her hands at me, indicating I better get a move on it. "You're kicking his ass for all 6 of us."
