The Hot Flash Club Chills Out (21 page)

31

I
t was a perfect night for fireworks, clear, warm, and dry. At eight-thirty, Faye and Polly arrived at Adele’s house. Faye made the introductions, and they helped Adele through her yard and into the front passenger seat of the Jeep, a challenge for the older woman, who could not lift her leg high enough to set it on the Jeep’s sandy floor.

“Would you mind giving me a little push?” she asked. “Don’t be shy. You can’t hurt me. Can’t embarrass me, either. At my age, I’ve been poked and prodded everywhere. Just go ahead,” she chuckled, “and wedge me in.”

It took more than a little push to boost the roly-poly older woman into place. By the time Polly and Faye had finished, all three women were dissolved in giggles.

They drove through town toward Jetties Beach, joining the parade of cars and people headed the same way. On Federal Street, they passed Kezia in her huge silver SUV. She was going in the opposite direction, against the tide of traffic. Pleased to see someone she knew, Faye waved, but Kezia didn’t see them.

Faye glanced over her shoulder at Polly. “I wonder why Kezia’s not going to the fireworks.”

“Her baby’s probably too young to enjoy them,” Polly said. “David was afraid of the noise until he was eight!”

When they turned on to South Beach Street, Adele gasped. “I’m astonished at the number of people going to the beach. I knew the summer population had grown. But to
see
it like this—it just makes my head whirl!”

By the time they reached Easton Street, the crowd was so dense the Jeep could only inch forward.

“Can you put this in four-wheel drive?” Adele asked Faye.

“Sure.”

“There’s a public way on the right. Few people know about it. It’s a perfect spot for watching the fireworks.”

Other SUVs were already on the beach, but Faye steered over the sand until she found a spot. She parked, rolled down the windows, turned off the lights, and then the ignition. At once, the scent and sound of the sea swept into the car. The harbor was dotted with boats of all sizes, waving flags, decorated with red, white, and blue banners and flowers. As the sun set and the sky turned from dusky to complete black velvet, horns from boats and cars honked, eager for the show to begin.

Adele decided she would remain in the car to watch the display; it was just too much work to get out and back in. Polly opened the picnic basket next to her on the backseat and handed around a plate of brie and crackers and, to Adele’s delight, glasses of champagne.

“Champagne! I can’t remember when I last had it!”

Suddenly a bolt of gold streaked through the sky, blossoming into multicolored tendrils of light. The show had started. Polly got out of the backseat and stood in the sand for a better view, but Faye remained in the Jeep with Adele. She was having as much fun listening to the older woman as she was watching the fireworks. So many new kinds of patterns had been developed since Adele last saw them; she was as thrilled as if the planets themselves were putting in an appearance. Out in the harbor, the boats honked and whistled as fountains and pinwheels and volcanoes of light burst through the sky, trailing silver dots that exploded into their own colorful shows. Screamers streamed upward in crazy zigzags, pinwheels threw out silver minnows of light that undulated through the dark before fading. The calm waters of the harbor reflected the display, and the oohs and aahs of the crowd rolled through the night in waves.

Finally the show was over. Polly got back into the Jeep and replaced the empty champagne glasses and the plate. Faye put the Jeep in gear and joined the line of traffic headed away from the beach. Adele fell asleep, head leaning against the window frame, oblivious to the bounces and bumps as they rolled over the sandy ruts. Faye met Polly’s eyes in the rearview mirror; they agreed soundlessly to remain quiet, so they wouldn’t wake Adele.

The older woman’s eyes popped open just as they turned onto her street. Carefully they helped her out of the Jeep, across the grassy yard and into her house.

“I’m fine now,” Adele said as they stood in her kitchen. “You girls are so wonderful! That was a treat!” She turned to Faye. “Will you be painting my house again tomorrow?”

“If it doesn’t rain,” Faye told her. “I’ll let you know.”

“Lovely. Thank you again, girls.”

Driving back to Orange Street, Polly remarked, “We certainly seem to be running into a lot of little old ladies around here.”

Faye shrugged. “All the little old men have already died, I guess. Men do die younger.”

“Speaking of men…” Polly’s voice was wistful. “I don’t know what to do about Hugh.”

“I know. I don’t know what to do about Aubrey.”

“Have you spoken with him recently?”

Faye waited to reply until she’d carefully steered the Jeep into its tiny space next to the house. “No. I haven’t phoned him and he hasn’t phoned me. He’s angry that I came here instead of staying and taking care of him. His daughter’s not thrilled with me, either.”

“What if he finds another woman?” Polly asked.

Faye stared out at the dark night. “In all honesty, I just don’t know.”

Polly sighed. “Well,
I
know Hugh’s going to remain attached to his kids and Carol for the rest of his life. He’s not going to change. I guess at our age, change isn’t easy.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Faye argued. “I mean, Polly, I think I’m still capable of changing.
Really
changing. I think we all are! I mean, we’ve changed our homes for the summer. And in the past couple of years, you’ve changed from working as a seamstress to running Havenly Yours. Who knows how you might change again?” Faye grew serious and animated. “I stopped painting when Jack died. I thought I’d never paint again. But I
did.
Plus,
now
I’m doing landscapes, outdoor scenes—I
never
used to paint those. I pretty much stuck with still life and a few portraits. I’m learning so much about myself, my style, my abilities, I’m so excited about painting on the island! I feel—I know this is odd—but I feel
young
again, Polly! Remember that feeling, when school starts in the fall, and you buy new notebooks and pencils and your erasers are pink and clean and sort of spongy in your hand? And you’ve got a new Black Watch plaid dress for the first day of school? That’s how I feel about painting! And I love this island!” She threw her arms out so enthusiastically she hit the roof. “The more I see of it, the more I want to see. I love it here! In fact, I can’t wait to go to bed so I can get up in the morning to paint!” She looked at Polly suddenly, puzzled. “I think I got off the subject. What we were talking about?”

Polly laughed. “I think the topic was men.”

“Right.” Faye turned toward Polly, her face glowing. “I’ve been thinking so much about all this, Polly. It’s all tied together—work, and Aubrey, and aging, and my weight. Let me see if I can articulate this clearly. I not only think we can change, I think we
have
to. At this age. At this age, if we’re reasonably healthy, we should get to make some decisions about our lives. Oh,” she waved her hands in the air, “you have no idea how much I’ve been pondering these things. First of all, every moment of every day, it seems my first thought is about dieting. Even when I was watching those gorgeous fireworks and sipping champagne, a little voice in the back of my mind was nagging at me:
Don’t drink that champagne! You’ll gain weight!
”

Polly nodded. “I’ve got the same little voice.”

“So…to come back to
men,
to be frank, it’s partly because I like being with a man that I work so hard not to gain any weight. I do try to be healthy, Polly, you know that. I’ll always eat plenty of broccoli and fresh salads and fruit. But if I eat one piece of bread, or one cookie, or drink a glass of champagne, with my metabolism the way it is—and I
exercise,
I walk almost every day!—I gain weight. I’ve figured out that the only way I can lose weight is to limit myself to eight hundred calories a day, day after day. Anything over twelve hundred calories and I gain weight. Oh,” she hit the dashboard with her fist, “I’m so disgusted with myself! I’m so sick of obsessing about weight all the time!”

“I know,” Polly murmured. “Me, too.”

“The
point
is, I’m fighting my body every day, and guess what? I’m getting older anyway! And
rounder
! I’ve got to believe there’s a genetic clock in my DNA that is telling my entire body that it’s time for me to stop with the vanity, and get—well,
jolly
!”

“I’ve been ‘jolly’ all my life,” Polly commented.

“No, that’s not true. I’ve seen photos of you, Polly. You were slim once, and even if you were curvy, you weren’t like you are now, and I hope I’m not ruining our friendship by saying this, but you are like I am, you are just getting
round.
We once were more linear, like willow trees. Now we’re sphere-shaped, like…”

“…like snowmen,” Polly finished for her.

“Snow
women,
” Faye corrected with a grin. “Right. Now here’s my choice: I can continue to obsess about my weight so I can fit into beautiful clothes—and that’s another subject entirely, beautiful clothes shouldn’t be only for skinny women—I can continue to obsess about my weight so Aubrey will be proud of me when we go out in public. I know how vain Aubrey is. I’ve met some of the women he’s dated. They all are bone thin and elegant.” She interrupted herself with a question. “Can a woman be elegant and plump? I don’t know.”

“
You
are!” Polly insisted heartily.

“Thanks, but…anyway, I see continuing my relationship with Aubrey as
work.
Partly because I’ll have to continue dieting strenuously to keep in shape for him, and partly because I’ll have to stop painting and spend my time taking care of him. I’m just not sure I want to do that.”

“Or,”
Polly prompted.

“Or what?” Faye asked, puzzled.

Polly chuckled. “You said you feel like you have a choice. First, keep dating Aubrey and trying not to gain any more weight.
Or…
what?”

Faye bonked her head lightly against the back of her seat. “I guess that’s what I don’t know. Oh, Polly, I’d imagined this stage of my life as one full of peace. I’d travel with Jack and spend lots of time with my grandchildren. But Jack died, and my grandchildren live on the other side of the United States. I’ve thought about moving to California, but I really don’t think Laura would like that. She’s very happy now, so capable, she’s found her strength. She needs me on the periphery, not in the inner circle. So I have to reinvent my future.”

“Well, I’m with you there, too. I lost my husband, and I’m certainly not in the inner circle with my son and his family.”

For a while, they sat in silence, contemplating all Faye had said.

Then Polly turned to the backseat. “I think there’s some champagne left in the bottle. We don’t want it to go to waste.”

“Right.” Faye dug the glasses from the picnic basket and Polly poured.

“For the rest…well, first, Faye, you always look beautiful. Your clothes are always beautiful, especially the ones you make yourself, like the Havenly Yours clothes, layered in different colors. True, you don’t look forty anymore. But you do have beautiful clothes, and you did before Aubrey and you will whether you’re with him or not. Second”—she stopped to catch her breath and sip some champagne—“are you so sure Aubrey cares about how much you weigh? I mean, after your fall last Christmas, you packed on the pounds, and then gradually lost them again, and as far as I recall, he never showed any signs of wanting to end your relationship because you’d gotten fat, and you know I’m using ‘fat’ as a relative term!”

“You’re right,” Faye murmured. “Aubrey’s never been bothered by my flab.”

“So your quandary about Aubrey isn’t about your weight. And it shouldn’t be about his health, either, I don’t think. He’s in his early seventies, true, but for heaven’s sake, he’s only got bursitis, not a terminal illness! And you have fun with him, I know you do. We had a fabulous time on our Christmas cruise a year ago! You and Aubrey were gorgeous on the dance floor! And he can be so witty. I think the real question, Faye, is whether you love him or not. Not how long he might live. I mean, come on, at this age any of us could go at any moment.”

Faye sighed. “Everything you say makes sense, Polly. The truth is, I don’t think I know whether or not I love Aubrey. Or whether he
loves
me. Or even if love is important at our age.”

Suddenly, from one of the neighboring yards, came a series of pops, shrieks, and laughter, as kids set off firecrackers.

“How apropos,” Faye said.

Polly laughed. “The AMA should do one of their famous studies: How Important Are Fireworks in an Over-Fifty Relationship?”

“Love and sex are two different things,” Faye reminded her. “Man, look at the time. We’ve been sitting out here for over an hour. Let’s go in.”

They gathered the picnic basket and empty bottle and glasses and went through the dark, warm night into Nora Salter’s house.

“Maybe I’m thinking about all this because it’s Independence Day,” Faye told Polly, half-joking as they unpacked the basket in the kitchen. “And I have to say one last thing: If I were a man, and if I wanted to concentrate on painting for the rest of my life, my partner would adjust her life to mine. If I were a man, and my wife had bursitis, I wouldn’t be expected to drop everything, I wouldn’t have to give up my work—”

“Faye,” Polly interrupted, “wasn’t there a little silver pheasant up there next to the champagne bucket?”

Faye frowned. “Silver pheasant?”

“Maybe it was a peacock,” Polly blithered. “A bird with a long tail…not a swan, not a parrot…no, I’m sure it was a pheasant.”

Faye yawned. “I didn’t see anything like that.”

“I noticed it when I climbed up on a chair to get the champagne bucket down. I remember thinking it should be in the dining room, not the kitchen, because it’s ornamental, not functional, and perhaps it was put in the kitchen because there’s just too much stuff in the dining room. I’m sure it was there, Faye. And now it’s not.” She shuddered. “Someone’s been in the house!”