what love means’ ? I still don’t know what love means, Val.”
“Yes you do. And haven’t I told you a million times not to listen to Ray LaMontagne when you’re sad?”
“Well, in full disclosure, I listened to Lucinda Williams, too.”
“Oh, my God. I hope you had suicide prevention on speed dial.” Valerie’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh. Oh, Irene, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“… Can I ask you something? Do you ever think about her?”
“My mother?”
Valerie nods.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“What do you think about?”
“I think about a lot of things: how she looked, things she said. Times she was actually tender to me; she used to cut my cinnamon toast into the most perfect little triangles. But mostly I wonder how she felt when she went out to the garage that day. I wonder how it sat in her that she wouldn’t be coming back in. It must have been the loneliest feeling in the world.”
“So you forgive her.”
“Yes. I forgive her. I learned a long time ago that the bargain she must have struck that day was between her and something much bigger than me or my father or the life she lived with us. She was a woman who could neither give nor accept love. It must have made being here awfully hard.
“Anyway. Ray and Lucinda. Ray and Lucinda ! I like to listen to sad music when I’m sad. It seems honest. It makes me cry, and sometimes a good cry is the only thing that can make you feel better. But you know, it’s not even that I’m sad so much as … I feel like I’m too old, suddenly, for so many things I guess I thought I’d have forever. I’m just, you know, tired . You know what I mean? Not in my body. In my heart.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Plus, I’m a little mortified.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
“Why do I keep doing this, Val? Why do I keep trying to find someone?”
“Because you don’t want to be alone.”
“Yes I do,” Irene says. “I do now. I’m done. There is no hope. I’m worn-out. Used up. My body is a freak show.” She drains her glass. “I’m having another martini. You?”
“No, I’d better not. I … Oh, all right. Might as well. I’vegone this far. I’m starting to lose feeling in the roof of my mouth. Now I’ll have to take a cab home. I hope I get a nice driver and not one of those hostile ones.” She hands her glass to Irene, then says, “And your body is not a freak show.”
“It is,” Irene says. “And so is yours.”
“It is not!”
Irene says nothing. Takes a big sip of her drink, then another. Then, “Let me see it,” she says.
“See what?”
“Your body.”
“You’ve seen my body a million times.”
“Not lately. Not for years .”
“Well, I’m not showing it to you. Really, Irene!”
“Seriously, Valerie, I need to see another older woman’s body. Compare and contrast. I’ll bet Don went back to his wife because of my body.”
Valerie rolls her eyes.
“Come on,” Irene says. “I just want to see if I’m normal.”
“Fine. You show me your body, and I’ll tell you if you’re normal.”
“How will you know?”
“How will you ? And anyway, if you want to see naked women, just go to any gym’s locker room.”
“Valerie. I don’t belong to a gym, you know that. Every time I join a gym, I go six days in a row and then never again. I hate gyms. They’re evil. They’re like Las Vegas. I mean, they’re going to win: you’ll pay, but you won’t go. They know that. If everybody who paid went to the gym, there’d be no room. I’ll bet for every person there, there are fifty who never come. Or a hundred!”
“Okay, Irene. Calm down.”
Irene takes in a breath, stares out into space. Then, “Howabout this,” she says. “Let’s both take our clothes off and just be really, really honest with each other. Although for you it won’t count.”
“Why not.?”
“Because you’re married.”
“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I don’t care about
“Yes you do. And haven’t I told you a million times not to listen to Ray LaMontagne when you’re sad?”
“Well, in full disclosure, I listened to Lucinda Williams, too.”
“Oh, my God. I hope you had suicide prevention on speed dial.” Valerie’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh. Oh, Irene, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“… Can I ask you something? Do you ever think about her?”
“My mother?”
Valerie nods.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“What do you think about?”
“I think about a lot of things: how she looked, things she said. Times she was actually tender to me; she used to cut my cinnamon toast into the most perfect little triangles. But mostly I wonder how she felt when she went out to the garage that day. I wonder how it sat in her that she wouldn’t be coming back in. It must have been the loneliest feeling in the world.”
“So you forgive her.”
“Yes. I forgive her. I learned a long time ago that the bargain she must have struck that day was between her and something much bigger than me or my father or the life she lived with us. She was a woman who could neither give nor accept love. It must have made being here awfully hard.
“Anyway. Ray and Lucinda. Ray and Lucinda ! I like to listen to sad music when I’m sad. It seems honest. It makes me cry, and sometimes a good cry is the only thing that can make you feel better. But you know, it’s not even that I’m sad so much as … I feel like I’m too old, suddenly, for so many things I guess I thought I’d have forever. I’m just, you know, tired . You know what I mean? Not in my body. In my heart.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Plus, I’m a little mortified.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
“Why do I keep doing this, Val? Why do I keep trying to find someone?”
“Because you don’t want to be alone.”
“Yes I do,” Irene says. “I do now. I’m done. There is no hope. I’m worn-out. Used up. My body is a freak show.” She drains her glass. “I’m having another martini. You?”
“No, I’d better not. I … Oh, all right. Might as well. I’vegone this far. I’m starting to lose feeling in the roof of my mouth. Now I’ll have to take a cab home. I hope I get a nice driver and not one of those hostile ones.” She hands her glass to Irene, then says, “And your body is not a freak show.”
“It is,” Irene says. “And so is yours.”
“It is not!”
Irene says nothing. Takes a big sip of her drink, then another. Then, “Let me see it,” she says.
“See what?”
“Your body.”
“You’ve seen my body a million times.”
“Not lately. Not for years .”
“Well, I’m not showing it to you. Really, Irene!”
“Seriously, Valerie, I need to see another older woman’s body. Compare and contrast. I’ll bet Don went back to his wife because of my body.”
Valerie rolls her eyes.
“Come on,” Irene says. “I just want to see if I’m normal.”
“Fine. You show me your body, and I’ll tell you if you’re normal.”
“How will you know?”
“How will you ? And anyway, if you want to see naked women, just go to any gym’s locker room.”
“Valerie. I don’t belong to a gym, you know that. Every time I join a gym, I go six days in a row and then never again. I hate gyms. They’re evil. They’re like Las Vegas. I mean, they’re going to win: you’ll pay, but you won’t go. They know that. If everybody who paid went to the gym, there’d be no room. I’ll bet for every person there, there are fifty who never come. Or a hundred!”
“Okay, Irene. Calm down.”
Irene takes in a breath, stares out into space. Then, “Howabout this,” she says. “Let’s both take our clothes off and just be really, really honest with each other. Although for you it won’t count.”
“Why not.?”
“Because you’re married.”
“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I don’t care about
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