Getting Old Can Kill You (2 page)

Jack Langford, 75
Handsome and romantic, Gladdy’s new husband

OTHER TENANTS

Arlene Simon, 80

Merrill Grant, 77

Lauderdale Lakes, 1955

Arlene Steiner feels giddy as she enters the foyer of her tiny third-floor apartment and takes a deep breath. It’s Wednesday, 11
A.M
., and here she is getting off early on a weekday—for the first time!

Thank you, Woolworth’s, for having a busted water pipe and giving all us employees the rest of the day off.
The apartment is so wonderfully quiet, and it’s nice to be home all by herself. Feeling daring, she tosses her purse down onto the green Formica and chrome kitchen table. She never does this when her husband’s at home. Edward’s motto is: A place for everything and everything in its place. Not that she minds him being so opinionated about everything. He’s right. They have a
small space and clutter would only make it smaller. For a moment she reflects fondly on growing up, how her room was always a mess, but her mom never seemed to mind. Besides, she never had a problem finding her things when she needed them
.

She opens her Kelvinator fridge and pours herself a glass of milk. What shall she do with all these extra hours? Well, there’s always the laundry. But that’s a Saturday job. It can wait. She doesn’t want to waste this gift of free time
.

She could do something special for her darling Edward
.

She smiles at the thought, remembering how he insisted on their first date that she call him Edward. Not Eddie, not Ed, not even Ned. How did she ever land such a drop-dead-handsome guy? Six feet tall, wavy brown hair, sexy blue bedroom eyes, a physique like an athlete. He could have been a movie star
.

If Mamma were only alive, she thinks. It was every Jewish mother’s dream. Her daughter married a doctor—a plastic surgeon, even. Though Arlene never even finished high school, it didn’t matter. Even if once in a while Ed—she corrects herself—Edward, makes her feel, well, not so smart as he is
.

Still sipping her milk, she walks into the living room and glances at herself in the wide gilt mirror hanging over the hi-fi cabinet that Edward picked out. She examines herself critically. Five feet small, petite, fashionably slim. Long blond hair in a pageboy
style. Light blue eyes. She wears very high heels to seem taller. Pretty is as pretty does, Mamma used to tell her
.

She switches on the hi-fi and places the needle into the groove of her favorite record. Her body sways to Frank Sinatra singing “Young at Heart.” She hugs herself and dances, singing along. “Fairy tales can come true. It can happen to you …” The song and the way Sinatra sings it bring her to tears; she doesn’t know why, but it makes her feel restless and lonely
.

She’s never been good at making friends, except for Joyce, her very best and only friend since childhood, living on the second floor in the apartment directly below theirs. Joyce was such a good friend that she’d moved in right after the wedding, just to be near Arlene. Arlene doesn’t know what she’d do without Joyce, who is more like a sister than just a friend
.

Joyce is Arlene’s opposite—dark, very curly hair; velvety brown eyes. Kind of a cuddly body. It was fun when they used to go out together. Guys would be attracted to either “the skinny blonde” or “the buxom brunette.” Arlene was sure Joyce would be the one to get married first, but Arlene turned out to be the lucky one
.

Arlene suddenly gets a great idea. She’ll call Joyce at work and maybe they can have lunch together. They’ve never been able to do that. The telephone company where Joyce works is too far away from Woolworth’s—especially since she is only allowed
a half hour off. What a treat this could be! But then she remembers that Joyce has a dentist’s appointment at lunchtime today. Oh, well
.

Arlene pouts for a moment. It hasn’t been easy for the friends to get together. Early on she invited Arlene up for dinners but Edward has never made her feel comfortable and Joyce says she won’t go places where she isn’t welcome. Maybe when Joyce gets married, it will be different. They’ll be two couples, then, and Edward would have another man to talk to while the women gabbed. Won’t that be fun?

She sits down on the couch and picks up the book that she left on the kidney-shaped coffee table
—Marjorie Morningstar,
a new bestseller. She can really identify with the story of a young Jewish girl who falls in love with a handsome, talented guy. She settles back against the cushions and tries to read, but once she realizes she’s read the same two lines over again, she gives up, unable to concentrate
.

What to do? What to do? How about making Edward’s favorite dessert tonight? A romantic evening. That’s what they need. He’s been distracted recently—working late hours. Candles and wine and his favorite key lime pie after a hearty dinner, that’s the ticket. Their fifth anniversary is coming up, and Edward promised they could have a belated honeymoon since he couldn’t get away while he was in med school. Now that he has his own practice, maybe he can squeeze it in. Arlene
has always wanted to go to Niagara Falls. But he said maybe twice. Not a good sign
.

Tonight she’s determined to change his mind. She’ll wear the nightgown she bought and hid for a special occasion. She giggles. They better travel soon. Because her next big wish is for a baby. Twenty-five years old is getting kind of late for a baby, and once that happens, no more trips, that’s for sure
.

She’s getting excited. Lots to do to get ready
.

In the kitchen she happily checks her supplies. She has enough limes. And plenty of graham crackers to make the pie crust. She’s got the condensed milk and the eggs. Oh, no, she’s out of vanilla. Not a problem. She knows Joyce will have some
.

But wait. She’d better make sure Edward won’t be late tonight and spoil all her dinner plans. He’s made her promise never to interrupt him at his office or at the hospital, but surely he won’t mind when she just needs to ask him this one little thing. It will only take a minute. His nurse can get the answer for her if he’s busy
.

She dials his office and the answering service picks up. Darn it, it must be his lunch break. She asks the operator what time he’ll be back. The operator primly informs her that Dr. Steiner isn’t in today. His office is closed on Wednesdays
.

It takes Arlene a few moments to realize she is still clutching the phone after the operator has disconnected. She puts it down. How could that be?

Suddenly a series of photos come to mind. An article—was it in
Life
magazine? Doctors playing golf on Wednesdays. Edward plays golf, that must be it. But she’s certain he plays only on Sundays. He always goes to work on Wednesday. There must be a logical explanation
.

Something’s not right
.

Don’t think about it now. Discuss it tonight. Plan the dinner. Keep busy
.

She ties on the apron that she bought at an Avon house party a few weeks earlier. Suddenly she’s a whirlwind of activity. Pulls out the pots she needs. Lays out the ingredients, all in a row. Removes the steak from the freezer to defrost. Takes the peeler out for the potatoes
.

Suddenly she remembers the vanilla. She grabs her set of keys off the foyer shelf and heads out the door. Useful that she and Joyce have keys to each other’s apartments in case of an emergency
.

Arlene unlocks Joyce’s door and walks into a bad movie. A trail of garments lies on the floor. Red satin high-heel shoes seem to lead the way through the foyer. Followed by silk stockings. A garter belt points toward the living room, where she finds a matching red satin dress with a low-cut bodice casually thrown across an armchair. Dangling garnet earrings tossed on a side table right outside the bedroom door
.

For a brief hopeful moment Arlene thinks that perhaps she’s in the wrong apartment. Joyce doesn’t own sexy stuff like that. Joyce is very neat. She hangs up her clothes
.

She hears sounds from the bedroom. She giggles, quickly putting a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. Maybe Joyce brought her dentist home with her. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But as Arlene turns to leave she recognizes her husband’s brown woven Thom McAn Oxford shoes off to one side of the living room. And there are his argyle socks. And his Fruit of the Loom boxer shorts
.

“Is somebody there?” Joyce’s voice calls out
.

For one hysterical second, Arlene is tempted to shout out the comedy line “Nobody here but us chickens,” but it sticks in her throat
.

Then her husband’s voice says, “You’re imagining things,” and he lets out a seductive chuckle that his wife has never heard before
.

“I am not. I could swear I heard a key in the lock.”

Run, Arlene, run. But she’s rooted to the spot
.

Joyce appears in the living room doorway. And sees Arlene. “Oh, shit! What the hell are you doing here?”

Time slows down. Arlene takes in the fact that her friend is naked. She hasn’t seen her that way since high school gym class. When did her body get so perfect? Joyce’s been to the beauty parlor
and hennaed her hair. And she smells heavily of Shalimar
.

Arlene manages to squeeze out the now-foolish words. “I came to borrow vanilla.”

Edward appears wearing a T-shirt and a towel wrapped around his waist. There are lipstick stains on his sleeve
.

Why is she bothering with these details? Isn’t her life ending right at this time and in this place? Can’t she see that?

Edward, frozen, can only reiterate, “Oh, shit!”

Joyce turns on Edward. “I warned you to break it to her. This wouldn’t be happening.”

“I told you I’d tell her in my own way and my own time.”

“Yeah, well, your time just ran out.”

“What is she doing here?”

“Damned if I know. She says she came to borrow vanilla.”

They are behaving as if Arlene isn’t in the room
.

Finally she finds her voice and confronts Edward. It’s an edgy voice. She points at Edward’s shoes and socks. “A place for everything. Everything in its place?”

He looks at her as if she’s gone mad. Maybe she has
.

Her voice grows stronger. “You think I liked all those years I spent in Woolworth’s Ladies Foundations Department so I could send you through medical school?”

She turns to Joyce. “And you, my best friend! We know each other from kindergarten!”

Joyce shrugs. “Hey, hon, I always did like the guys who liked you.”

With that Arlene lurches at Joyce and grabs at her hair. “I’m gonna tear every phony red hair out of your head! You do this behind my back? Since when did my close friend and my husband get so cozy? I thought you hated each other!”

Joyce howls, trying to pry her off. “Stop it!”

Edward stands watching in hideous fascination
.

Arlene pulls Joyce’s hair harder. “Suddenly you’re a floozy wearing low-cut dresses with your boobies hanging out? Where is your loyalty?”

Joyce shouts at her lover, “Ed! Do something!”

Arlene is astonished. Ed? She gets to call him Ed? It is indeed a day of wonders
.

Ed shrugs, helpless
.

“Crazy—you’re crazy!” Joyce screams. “Why are you only picking on me?”

Arlene grins at her but it’s not a pretty sight. “I intend to curse him every day of his miserable life. Not only every day, but especially Wednesdays when doctors get to play golf!”

Edward winces
.

“Ouch!” Joyce screeches as Arlene tears the necklace from around her neck. “My Chai! Give me back my lucky Chai.”

“You mean the present I bought you for your eighteenth birthday?” Arlene shrieks. “Lucky eighteen. Well, your luck just ran out!”

Joyce wrenches away, falling backward into a chair, arms and legs splayed
.

Arlene knows how superstitious her friend is. She twirls the necklace in front of Joyce’s face as she taunts, “You’re doomed. Jewish mysticism can’t help you now. You’ll never have a happy day as long as you live. When you die, you’ll die a horrible death!” She throws the necklace back at her
.