Forever Friends (3 page)

Louise and Jessie were confused.

“We all knew that Margaret was worried about the cancer coming back,” Beatrice said, catching them up on what they had missed.

“Scared shitless,” Louise answered. “But nobody really knew what to say.” She pulled the collar of her coat around her face.

“We prayed a lot,” Jessie added.

Margaret stared in disbelief at her friends. “Everybody knew?”

“Yep,” Beatrice responded. “Even had a committee meeting about it.” And she put on her coat.

“Well, we said that was why we were meeting, but we also checked out the wig shopping on the Internet,” Louise added, scratching her scalp.

“I still think I should have bought that Diana Ross one.” Jessie fingered a strand of hair.

Margaret shook her head, still surprised that she hadn't fooled anyone into thinking she was doing fine with her diagnosis.

“It's just so good that you're okay.” And Beatrice reached over and hugged her again.

“Well,” Margaret said hesitantly and with resignation, “I guess I can't keep anything from you women.”

“Not even where you hide your liquor.” Louise moved next to her friend.

Margaret wasn't sure how she felt, the contents of her heart exposed and studied. Did it offend her or soothe her to find out that what she had held as private pain had been scrutinized and combed through? She had been so sure that her portrayal of tidy and capable disease management had convinced the others that she was okay, that now she felt ambivalent about what had been shared. But she shook aside her thoughts as she lifted her face in the bright afternoon sun, and decided that it wasn't the day to stay distracted by what she didn't know. It was the day to bask in what she knew for sure. The cancer was gone.

Beatrice glanced out into the parking lot. She turned to the other women. “I think we should have lunch somewhere nice.”

“That's the general idea of celebrating,” Louise replied. Then she faced Jessie, who was standing next to her. “You still got to go?”

“Yes, I'm afraid I've got to take care of some things before we leave in the morning.” And then she walked over to Margaret. “But first, tell us exactly what the doctor said.”

Margaret pulled her jacket tightly around herself and gave the details of the good news as the four women walked to Beatrice's car. She said the words slowly and deliberately, letting each syllable sound and fall, the answer to their prayers drawn out and enjoyed.

She told them about the blood tests, the CAT scan, and the mammogram, all the information that had been delivered and placed inside her folder. She told them of the doctor's comment about the stain on her sleeve and how she had not considered it funny at the time; but now she could even laugh a bit at his attempt to be humorous. She mentioned the hug and the surprised look on his face and even her fear that the news might not be positive. She told it all particularly and with great joy as they strode to where they had parked.

They stopped at the two cars they had driven and turned to face the doctor's office.

“I'm glad we aren't coming back here for a while,” Louise said.

“That makes two of us,” Margaret responded.

“Yes,” Jessie added.

And they waited quietly, thinking how good it felt for Margaret to be done with those monthly visits, those agonizing hours of tests and troubles.

“We're going to miss you, woman.” It was Beatrice who broke through the silence to say good-bye to Jessie.

“Yes, we certainly are,” Louise said.

“You promise to send postcards, right?” Margaret asked.

“Absolutely. And I'll take lots of pictures,” Jessie answered.

“Well, if you touch anybody's ass, do get a shot of that.” Louise winked, reminding the women of Beatrice's cruise, when she had goosed the captain of the ship.

“Certainly,” Jessie said. “Though I expect that's highly unlikely on this trip.” Then she said to Margaret, “I just can't tell you what hearing this news means.” She reached out and took Margaret's hands in hers. “You're really okay.”

Margaret nodded. “I'm really okay,” she repeated, trying to believe.

Jessie hugged her friend and then said good-bye to Louise and Beatrice. They stood beside the other car and waved as Jessie pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road. They waited a bit before speaking.

“Well, how about the steak house?” Beatrice asked.

“No, I don't think I want steak,” Margaret answered.

“Chinese?” Beatrice asked as she unlocked the doors and got in.

“No, that food gives me heartburn,” Louise responded as she and Margaret climbed into the car.

“Then what?” Beatrice asked as she sat down and fastened her seat belt.

There was a pause as the women thought about a place they could go and eat their lunch.

“Is Charlotte joining us?” Beatrice asked.

“No. She seemed to think she would be busy all morning,” Margaret answered.

“Who was it she was seeing again?” Beatrice backed out of the parking space and then stopped.

“She didn't say,” reported Margaret. “Somebody in Winston-Salem.” Then she added, “I think it's a confidential thing.”

Beatrice made a humming noise like she was thinking and glanced over to Louise and back to Margaret as if they might know something she didn't, but one of the women was staring out the window and the other was searching in her purse, neither of them letting on that they knew anything more.

“Let's go to that little diner across the street from the Laundromat where Nadine works.” Margaret said this as she placed her receipt in the zippered compartment of her purse and set it on the floor next to her feet.

“That's a wonderful idea,” Beatrice added. “They have such good pie…. Oh, and I need to give Nadine a check anyway. I forgot to pay her the last time I picked up my cleaning. Will it be all right to stop by there first?”

Since neither woman objected, Beatrice turned the car in the direction of the cleaners, and when they arrived she parked and the three of them went inside.

Margaret stood by the large machines. She smiled. She wasn't sure why, but she always felt pleasure in being in a Laundromat. She thought it had something to do with the clean odors of fabric softener and bleach, the swirl of clothes in the dryer, and the noise, like soft humming. She found it comforting, and when she had heard months before that Nadine had taken a job there she thought it was a good place for the young woman to start over.

“I think it would be nice to work here,” she said to Louise as Beatrice went to the front desk to ask if Nadine was in the office.

Margaret and Louise listened to the thumping in the washing machines, the quiet conversation between a young mother and her child. They watched as a man folded his clean clothes.

“I don't know,” Louise responded in a sort of whisper, “there's always strange folks in Laundromats.” And she looked around, noticing who was there.

“Not strange,” Margaret answered as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, “just people down on their luck, busted washer or traveling through town. Just people with dirty clothes.” She opened her eyes. “I always found the Laundromat to be a place of comfort, a place of camaraderie.” She stopped.

Then she glanced down at her arm as if she had remembered something. She quickly changed the subject. “Hey, maybe Nadine will know how to get this out.”

Louise wasn't sure what she meant. She shrugged her shoulders. What was Margaret saying? She herself had never felt comforted in a Laundromat. It wasn't a place she wanted to visit. She had never felt camaraderie there. It had never been a place she enjoyed, and it surprised her to hear that Margaret thought so.

Beatrice returned to the two women. “She's not here today.” There was a straight line of pink lint on the front of her coat where she had leaned across the counter. “Exams,” she added, then she took a breath like a person sniffing a fine glass of wine. “Don't you just love the smells in here?” she asked. “Just like a baby's butt.” And she turned toward the door.

Louise looked over at Margaret, who was nodding. She
shook her head at what she didn't understand, and the three women walked out of the Laundromat, across the street, and into the diner. They found a booth and sat down. Beatrice and Louise sat together on the side facing the back of the restaurant. Margaret sat opposite them.

All three reached for the menus, trying to decide whether they would choose the daily special or split a pizza. The waitress came and went a few times before they finally made up their minds.

Margaret sat with her head down and paid no attention to the young couple who came in just after they did and sat down in a booth on the other side of the diner. She did not see it was a familiar face until she had finished her lunch, had engaged in a long discussion about a recipe, and was ordering a cup of coffee with her dessert. Then, just as she snapped up her head to motion to the waitress that Beatrice had made up her mind about which pie she wanted, she noticed that it was Lana Jenkins who lowered her eyes and bit her bottom lip as the man sitting with her reached across the table and touched her on the cheek.

It was such a blatant gesture of familiarity, such a moment of tenderness, that Margaret blushed to have seen something so intimate. She quickly turned away.

“I wish Jessie could have eaten with us,” Beatrice said after she placed her dessert order.

“Yeah, she loves the meat loaf,” Louise replied, reaching for the sugar. Then she added, “What is it, Margaret? You see somebody you know?”

Louise and Beatrice both started to spin around to see who it was their friend had noticed, but Margaret spoke quickly. “No, it's nothing. I thought maybe I saw Nadine go in across the street.”

The women turned around, neither of them having seen the young girl and the stranger with whom she dined.

“You're so right, Lou,” Margaret added, trying not to appear as if she had witnessed anything disturbing. “Jessie would have loved this lunch,” she said, thinking how awkward it would have been had Jessie been sitting there beside her and seen what she was seeing.

“Well, I hope they have a lovely trip.” Beatrice spooned cream into her coffee. “The two of them deserve a little happiness.”

Louise agreed. “They've certainly waited long enough.”

Margaret peered just over her friends' heads as the young woman flipped her hair and moved about in her seat nervously. The man would occasionally lean across the table as if sharing a secret, but Lana would pull away, a pained expression on her face.

“Is this pecan or walnut?” Beatrice asked the waitress, who had walked over to fill up their coffee cups and hand them the bill.

“Pecan. You ordered pecan pie, right?” the woman asked Beatrice.

Lana was getting ready to leave, their meals barely touched. The man slipped out of his side of the booth first
and then held out his hand, which she took and slid out from behind the table. They stood that way briefly until the young woman pulled her hand away and walked out the door. The man smiled, dropped a few dollars on the table, and hurried behind her.

“Well, it tastes like walnut,” Beatrice answered the waitress. “It's good, though; got a bourbon taste to it.”

Louise rolled her eyes. “That's why it's called bourbon pecan pie, Bea.”

“Is that a fact?” she asked, reaching for a menu to read the dessert listing again.

Louise shook her head and then noticed Margaret's attention still being paid to something going on behind her. She studied her but did not speak of it. “You drink a lot of bourbon, do you, Beatrice?”

“No, I do not. I recognize the taste from candies my mother used to make.” Beatrice put a tip on the table and reached for the bill. “Are we ready to go?” she asked. “And by the way, this is my treat,” she added. “I just got a raise from my generous husband-boss.”

“He can still do that,” Louise replied, intending to be sarcastic, but neither Beatrice nor Margaret seemed to notice.

“I'm glad we came here. This is a nice place,” Beatrice said as she pushed herself out of the booth. “Good pie. I wonder if they make the desserts here or order them from somewhere else.” No one responded as they walked over to the cash register. “Maybe they'd like a copy of our cookbook.”

Neither woman answered her. Louise scanned the restaurant, trying to find out who Margaret had seen, but she did not recognize anyone there.

“Thank you for the treat, Bea,” Margaret said as she reached for a toothpick. “It was the perfect celebration meal!”

Beatrice nodded. “Well, it's certainly a day for celebration, Ms. Cancer-Free Friend.” She took the change from the waitress and placed it in her wallet. “Maybe now you can relax a little and enjoy life.”

“Yeah, maybe now you won't be so grouchy,” Louise added.

“I haven't been grouchy,” Margaret replied.

And the two friends faced each other with raised eyebrows.

“Really,” Margaret asked, “have I been grouchy?”

Beatrice placed her arm around her. “You've been fine, Margaret. At least you've had a reason for your temperament.” And she grinned at Louise.

Louise rolled her eyes while the three of them got their coats and walked out. They stood at the driveway waiting to go across the street, where they had parked, when a black Cadillac pulled out from the lot, turning in front of them. Beatrice glanced up just as the car moved past.

“That's funny,” she said as they hurried to her car, “but that looked just like Lana Jenkins in that Cadillac.”

When they got to where they had parked, Beatrice
fumbled with her keys. Louise cut her eyes over to Margaret, who said nothing as she watched the black car speed away.

Beatrice finally opened the doors and stared at Margaret as her friend started to step into the car. “Your color is even healthier,” she said.