Farewell, Dorothy Parker (16 page)

“My longevity is the sort I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Witness this,” she said, and waylaid a disheveled elderly man on his way out of the store. “Sir,” she said, “have you ever heard of Dorothy Parker?”

“Sure. She was the broad who said, ‘Men never make passes at girls who wear glasses.’ ”

“See what I mean?” Mrs. Parker said to Violet. “It’s all anyone will ever remember—one smartass little poem.”

“You got a couple bucks you can spare for a sandwich?” asked the old man.

“Certainly not,” Mrs. Parker said. “And it’s
seldom.
Men
seldom
make passes at girls who wear glasses.”

The man rubbed the stubble on his face. “Seldom. Never. Who gives a damn?”

“Precisely,” said Mrs. Parker.

The man stood looking at the two women, his eyes cloudy and sad, and it occurred to Violet that he might really need money for a sandwich. She considering giving him those few bucks he requested, but she was torn, like she always was with desperate drunks, as she knew the odds were pretty good that he would use the money to buy another bottle of whatever was in the paper bag he held.

Mrs. Parker seemed oblivious to the man’s plight, and so he shrugged and walked off to find a place to sit against the side of the building.

“Shall we go in?” Mrs. Parker said, and Violet explained that they couldn’t take the dogs into the store, so one of them would have to wait outside and hold the leashes.

“If you don’t mind,” said Mrs. Parker, “I’ll go in so I can see what brands they offer. It’ll be a regular adventure for me.” She held out her hand. “A dollar, please.”

Violet laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Mrs. Parker asked.

Violet pointed to the sign in the window that said
CIGARETTES
: $9.99.

“For one pack? Heavens! It really is the end of the world.”

Violet handed her mentor a twenty and watched as she went into the store carrying the tote bag containing the guest book. She wondered if it had ever before occurred to Mrs. Parker that she could move about in the world if the open book was placed in something she could carry.

After a few minutes, Violet sat on the curb with the two dogs.
Woollcott nosed his snout under her hand for a pet, while Cliché licked her arm. It made Violet laugh even more, and she petted them both.

Thank God for dogs.

She remembered the day she had gone to the North Shore Animal League with Delaney to find a dog to bring home. Every pooch they saw was lovable, but there was something special about the bond between Delaney and this little guy. She gave Woollcott a scratch behind the ears.

The trip to the animal shelter had been a present for Delaney’s ninth birthday from her Aunt Violet. Of course, she had cleared it with Ivy and Neil beforehand, but she didn’t tell the girl where they were going until they were in the car and on their way.

“A dog? Really? This is the best day of my
life.
”

But her joy quickly turned to tears as the child had a meltdown trying to decide which dog she wanted. Aunt and niece were together in a private outdoor pen, where they got acquainted with the dogs one by one as the handlers brought them out. There were three that seemed particularly sweet, and Delaney wanted them all.

“How do I choose, Aunt Violet?” she cried.

Violet knew which dog was right—it was the funny-looking little guy with the bug eyes. He and Delaney had clicked immediately. But the handlers had also introduced them to a pretty little whitish dog with long, soft fur, and a frisky pup that appeared to be part beagle.

“They’re all so cute,” Delaney had said, after all the dogs had gone back inside. “What should I do?”

“What is your heart telling you?” Violet said.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s no rush,” Violet said. “We can ask the handler to bring them back outside. Which one do you want to see first?”

“The tan one with the funny eyes, I guess,” Delaney said.

Violet sat on a bench and watched while the girl played with the little dog. After about ten minutes, Delaney picked up the animal and sat on her aunt’s lap.

“I still don’t know what to do,” she said. “I really like this one, but I like the others, too.”

“Let me tell you a story,” Violet said. “When you were born, your mother called me to come to the hospital and meet you for the very first time. I didn’t have a lot of experience with babies, and I was nervous to hold you. You were so tiny, like a fragile little doll. But your mother insisted. I sat in a big chair next to the bed, and she placed you in my arms. I thought, Okay, this won’t be so bad. I’ll just hold her for a second and give her right back.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t. I looked at your small, sweet face and something in me changed. I was washed in this warm feeling and the sense that I had known you all my life and that I was meant to love you. I wanted to hold you and hold you and hold you.”

Delaney looked down at the dog cradled in her lap. She rubbed his belly, held his little paw, scratched his head.

“That’s how I feel about this guy, Aunt Violet.”

And that was it. When they got in the car with the dog, Violet called her sister to tell her about the animal they were bringing home.

“What does he look like?” Ivy had asked.

Violet thought for a moment. “Kind of like Alexander Woollcott.”

“Woollcott,” Delaney repeated from the backseat. “I’ll love him forever.”

Now, sitting in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven, it seemed like nothing in the world could be more important than getting the girl home and reuniting her with this little dog…and the aunt who was meant to love
her
forever.

Violet noticed a shadow over her and looked up to see Dorothy Parker standing beside her, smoking a cigarette.

“Ready to go?” Violet said.

“Just one minute,” Mrs. Parker said, and pulled a wrapped package from the paper bag. It wasn’t until she walked over to the disheveled old man and handed it to him that Violet realized what it was. A sandwich.

Chapter 17

“Close your eyes,” Michael Jessee said. “Relax. Take a slow breath in. Let a slow breath out.”

It was the beginning of kung fu class, and he was leading the group through a meditation before starting their exercises. His voice, commanding yet soothing, enabled Violet to let go and float into a deep relaxation. When it ended, she was focused and ready to begin.

First, Michael led them through floor exercises, including push-ups, which Violet hated. Her upper body just wasn’t strong enough to go all the way down and get back up again. She normally did modified push-ups, with her knees on the floor. And even those were nearly impossible to complete. Today, though, she was determined to do one full regular push-up. Mind over matter, she told herself. God knows she had heard enough stories about people who had accomplished Herculean tasks by sheer force of will. Surely she could coax one damned push-up out of her skinny arms and narrow shoulders.

Give it everything, she commanded herself, as she bent her elbows and lowered her body toward the mat. Her slender arms trembled, threatening to collapse under her own weight, but she refused to give in. She hovered, feeling the strain of blood rushing to her head. No, she thought, I am not going
down.
I am going
up.
Up! Just one…damned…push. Violet harnessed all the power she could and pressed her body upward until at last her elbows straightened. She did it! One perfect push-up.

She felt proud and pleased as they moved on to the basic drilling of kicks and punches. Michael broke the group down into pairs for each routine. Violet noticed immediately that there was an odd number of students in tonight’s class, which meant that he would be participating in the exercises. For the first one, he paired himself with Jason, and Violet got one of the Lindas. She chided herself for feeling rejected. It was stupid and immature. There was absolutely nothing personal about it.

She tried to stay focused as they went through their punches, using a thick pad that Linda held as Violet jabbed. Then they switched places. When it came time for the kicking drills, Michael reassigned the pairs.
Me,
Violet thought, as she waited for Michael to make his choice.
Pick me.
But this time, Violet got Mariana, and Michael paired himself with Suzette.

Each time they finished an exercise, Violet thought it was her turn to be paired with Michael. But he went through every member of the class until she was the only one who hadn’t been matched with him.

And then he ended the pairing exercises.

Was it her imagination, or was Michael purposely avoiding her? Perhaps he was embarrassed by what he had said when he left her house the other night.
I’m glad you’re not seeing Carl anymore.
He must have meant it in a paternal way, after all. It made perfect sense. How could she have thought for a second he would have been interested in her?

At the end of class, everyone bowed to Michael and said,
“Dohr-che Sifu,”
Cantonese for
Thank you, teacher
, before exiting the training room.

Violet was in the reception area, stooping to put on her shoes, when she heard Michael’s voice.

“Can I see you for a minute?”

She looked up. “Me?”

He nodded and pointed to his office. She followed him inside.

She had never been back there before. It was a small room, with red industrial carpet and a wood desk, neatly arranged. She expected the walls to be adorned with Chinese watercolor prints, or perhaps with Asian weapons and trophy cases, like the reception area. Instead, there were Marx Brothers movie posters—
A Night at the Opera, Duck Soup, Animal Crackers, Horse Feathers.

“You’re…you’re a Marx Brothers fan,” she stammered. It was the last thing she expected from a martial artist and ex-Marine. But his attraction to puns was suddenly making a lot of sense.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard,” Michael said, pretending he was holding a cigar.

Violet laughed. “
I’m
a Marx Brothers fan,” she said, thumping her chest for emphasis.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Well, I figured it out. You’ve made a couple of oblique references in your reviews, and I thought, ‘Ah, she’s one of us!’ ”

Violet smiled. He’d been reading her reviews pretty closely. “It’s like we belong to a club, except…”

“Except we refuse to belong to any club that would have us as members,” he said, finishing her thought by paraphrasing Groucho.

She laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew who Groucho
was
!”

“I didn’t,” he said, “until I saw my first Marx Brothers movie. I was fourteen and had been home with a sore throat and slept all day. So at two in the morning I was wide awake, watching TV, and this crazy black-and-white movie came on. I laughed so hard I woke up the whole house. The next day my parents insisted it was the fever that made it seem that funny. I knew they were wrong, so as soon as I could, I borrowed every Marx Brothers video from the library, and that was it. I’ve been a fanatic ever since.”

She watched his mouth as he talked. Now I’m really in trouble, she thought. Dorothy was right. This was a crush. And it was getting worse by the minute. She put her hand to her throat. “You’re full of surprises,” she said.

“So are you.”

Violet was sure he was referring to her strange, aggressive behavior when she was possessed by Dorothy Parker, and she felt herself flush. Did he expect her to respond? To defend herself? She struggled to find the right words, but he jumped in and took her off the hook.

“You did a push-up,” he said, smiling.

So
that’s
what he meant. Violet let out a breath. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“It’s my job to notice.”

Violet knew a single push-up was a small thing, but the thought that Michael noticed pricked at her heart. “I was determined.”

“I could see that. And you know, if you can do a push-up, you can do anything.”

He looked so serious and intense—so genuinely impressed with her—that Violet actually believed him. She
could
do anything. In fact, she could even say exactly what was on her mind. The trick, she told herself, was to do it without hesitation. Don’t overthink it—just say it.

“Is there,” she said, and paused. Damn it, she told herself, don’t chicken out now. Just do it. Do it like you did the push-up. “Is there a reason you didn’t pair up with me for any of the drills?”

There, she said it. And Michael didn’t even flinch. He didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t look at her like she was being ridiculously childish. He just stared her straight in the eyes and nodded.

“Yes,” he said, his delicate speech impediment making it sound almost like
yesh.
She realized that it wasn’t just the idea of a tender imperfection that made her heart constrict. It was that he was so unself-conscious about it. How could she possibly not admire this man?

“After the other night,” he continued, “I thought it was important for us to talk so you wouldn’t feel awkward in class. And I hope this isn’t embarrassing for you, but I need to be frank. I’d really like to…” He paused to find the right word, and Violet thought she might pass out waiting to hear what came next.