Leftovers: A Novel (11 page)

Vivian lugged her suitcase into the room as Stew took the last of his clothes out of the dresser.

“Aw, Stewie,” Vivian said, “I hate making you sleep in the living room.”

“Not to worry, Viv. I’m glad to help.” He limped out of the room with his clothes.

Vivian turned to Babs. “I didn’t call you because . . . I didn’t want to feel like a charity case.”

Babs was clearly tentative about how to deal with her. There was a moment of hesitation and then she put her arms around her. “You’re not a charity case, you’re my friend.”

Vivian smiled and pulled away from her. Not wanting to mess up the bedspread with her dirty luggage, she opened it up on the floor.

Babs touched her dress. “Is this the uniform?”

Vivian smiled. “Still my favorite.”

“Let me wash it for you.”

Vivian looked down at the splattering of stains and the tear along her pocket. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I’d toss it but . . . ” she pointed to the valise, “I’m not sure I packed another.”

“Not to worry. I have plenty you can borrow. Let me get you some fresh towels and a robe.”

Babs left the door ajar as Vivian unzipped her dress and let it drop to the floor. She stepped out of it, wearing a bra and half-slip. She unhooked the bra and took it off when Stew walked into the room.

“All stacked . . . ” he said as he looked at Vivian’s chest.

She screamed and covered herself with her arms. “Stewie!”

Totally embarrassed, he looked away and stood with his back to her, in the doorway. “The Tupperware is all stacked and put away.”

Babs laughed as she came back down the hallway. “Back off, Casanova.” He fled into the living room as she helped Vivian into a terrycloth robe. “Actually I think the two of you would make a cute couple.”

“What?”

Babs shrugged her shoulders.

Vivian shook her head. “Oh I’ve always liked Stewie and his . . . ” she brought her voice down, “ . . . quirkiness. But the last thing I can think about right now is a man.”

Both Babs and Vivian could hear him humming
The Man That Got Away
in the living room.

Vivian leaned into Babs and whispered. “Besides, haven’t you wondered if he’s maybe . . . he’s a . . . ” Vivian nodded her head.

Babs was totally at a loss. “A what?”

Vivian brought her voice down softer. “A homosexual?”

Babs repeated it a full volume. “A homosexual?”

Vivian shushed her as Babs started laughing.

“Darlin’, how did you come up with that lamebrain idea?”

“He’s sensitive, obsessed with show tunes and Judy Garland and he sells Tupperware.”

“And that makes him a pansy?”

Vivian started gesturing in front of her face. “He uses his hands too much when he talks.”

Babs really started to laugh as she spread a towel out onto the bed and put Vivian’s suitcase on top of it. “You know he was married.”

“And your point being?”

The two women chuckled.

Babs watched as Vivian started sorting through what belongings she had brought. “Stew’s ex got the house so he’s moved in with me till he gets his feet back on the ground. I have to admit, he’s been here longer than I expected.”

“Hotel Babs.” Vivian paused for moment and looked at her very sincerely. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

Babs looked into the suitcase and saw that she had packed the framed picture of Paul that she kept on her night table. She searched Vivian’s face for some reasoning and then decided not to push her. “You OK?”

“What do you mean?”

Babs held her hand. “The bridge and all.”

“Just a momentary lapse in judgment. I’m fine now,” Vivian declared rather weakly.

Babs pointed to the picture of Paul. “Have you seen him?”

A guttural sound of disapproval came up from her belly. “Today. But I haven’t spoken to him since the divorce.” She paused trying not to get emotional. “He asked for it and I wasn’t going to contest so I offered to go to Reno for six weeks.”

“A Reno-vation!” Babs exclaimed, trying to lighten up the mood.

“No. That wasn’t fast enough for him. So he flew down to Mexico with . . . her . . . ”

“Whatta slut!”

“And in 24 hours it was over and he and . . . ”

“The home wrecker!”

“Were swimming and sunning and sipping piña coladas at some resort. Oh Babs, was I that horrible to live with?”

“No baby, of course not. He’s the crumb.”

“And I can’t stop thinking about the fight Paul and I had before he left.” Vivian started to cry. “The last thing he called me was . . . leftovers.”

“What an ass.” Babs put her arms around her. “Oh Viv, doesn’t he realize that leftovers always taste better the next day?” That almost coaxed a chuckle out of Vivian. “Honey, how are you for money?”

“Twenty-five bucks to my name.”

“Tonight I made almost $70.”

Vivian turned to her. “Selling plastic?”

“Sometimes closer to $150 when I do two or three parties in a day.”

“Babs, you could quit your receptionist job with that dentist.”

“Nah, I love that gig. Just doing the parties for extra dough. Besides, I corral all my buyers in from the office.”

This really got Vivian to thinking. “Geez, maybe I could . . . ” she cut herself off with her own self-doubt. “No. You’re so extroverted. A real people person. The thought of standing up in front of a group of strangers and talking mortifies me.”

Stew knocked on the bedroom door and slid in with his back to the women.

Vivian laughed. “I’m decent.”

Stew turned around singing, “
I’m always chasing rainbows, watching clouds drifting by . . . ”

He stopped abruptly, waiting for Babs to respond. Obviously this was a game Stew had tortured Babs to play, for years.

She thought hard. “Um, Mary Martin in
Peter Pan
?”

He threw her an exasperated look as his hands flew up with excitement. “I just bought at an estate sale the rare and almost impossible to find 12-inch 78 rpm recording of Judy singing the song
I’m Always Chasing Rainbows
from the 1941 movie
Ziegfeld Girl.
But that’s not all. Included in the recording is the deleted reprise for the finale she did with Tony Martin. She’s laughing and talking in between takes. Come into the living room and sing along!” Ecstatic, he left the room with his hands flailing by his sides.

Vivian gave Babs a look and they both broke out into laughter.

The next day, Babs rushed through the living room looking for her purse as Stew limped in from outside on his crutch, teetering a box of Tupperware in his other hand. The sun reflecting in from the snow outside was blinding.

“It’s a good thing this stuff is light,” he laughed as he dropped it on the sofa. “Just picked up the new shipment. The garage is full.”

Babs looked around the room at the Tupperware stacked and piled everywhere. “So is the house.” She moved a few boxes around on the dining room table and finally found her handbag. “Let’s hope business keeps up through the holidays.”

Stew grappled with getting his overcoat off. “How is sleeping beauty?”

“Out to the world.” She searched her purse for her keys.

“Babs, you didn’t tell me Viv was divorced.”

He hopped after her as she rushed into the kitchen.

“It just happened.”

She looked left and then right and then opened the refrigerator.

“You should have told me right away.”

She stared into the fridge. “What am I looking for? Keys!” She shut the door and shuffled things around on the wooden counter tops. “I’m sorry you weren’t at the top of my divorce alert list.” Frustrated, she jammed her hands into her pockets. She rolled her eyes, pulled out the keys and headed for the door. “Why don’t you try cheering her up?”

He tagged after her. “How do I do that?”

Babs grabbed her coat and threw it on. “Just be your charming self.”

“Ha ha.”

“Show her your sense of humor. Gals always like that. I’m late.” She opened the front door. “And get her out of bed before you hit on her, Mr. Lounge Lizard.”

Babs winked at him and shut the door.

•  •  •

The shades were still drawn, blackening out Vivian’s room. For the first time in weeks she had slept deeply and throughout the entire night. It was as if her body and spirit knew she were in a safe place. It also didn’t hurt that the mattress, pillows and clean sheets felt like the most comfortable she’d ever slept in. Buried somewhere under the covers, she was out to the world.

Suddenly, she heard blaring music and two voices started to sing.

“Swanee, how I love ya, how I love ya, my dear old Swanee...”

In panic mode, Vivian bolted upright in bed, as if someone had blown off a shotgun.

“I’d give the world to be, among the folks in D-I-X-I-Even no’ my Mammy’s, waitin’ for me, prayin’ for me, down by the Swanee...”

Stew had slipped a recording of the sound track to
A Star Is Born
onto the 1945 Philco phonograph in the living room. Caught up in the song and joining in with Judy, he wasn’t aware of how loud they were both belting.

“The folks up north will see me no more, when I get to that Swanee shore.”

Wrapped in her blanket and with her hair wildly tangled, Vivian quietly appeared at the entrance to the living room and observed him.

“Swanee, Swanee, I’m coming back to Swanee. Mammy, Mammy, I love the old folks at home . . . ”

Stew was just about to continue but Vivian cut him off by clapping. “Brava!”

Startled, he spun around looking at her. He threw up his hands and signaled that he would turn off the record player as Vivian shook her head.

“Was I that loud?” he shouted. He removed the needle and the house was quiet again.

“That could have wakened the dead.”

“Aw, gee, I’m sorry,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen.

If Stew’s singing hadn’t woken Vivian up, then maybe the red and white checkered linoleum floor would have. Or possibly the lime green painted kitchen cabinets. She staggered over to the built-in breakfast alcove and sat down as Stew rushed to her side.

Vivian shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. “Where are my sunglasses?”

“You hungry? I can whip something together. How about a fresh herb and vegetable frittata with sun-dried tomatoes or crème brûlée French toast with drunken strawberries or maybe just some simple eggs benedict?”

“Simple? How about a cup of coffee?”

Stew hopped to the kitchen counter and grabbed a mug. “There’s some left over from earlier but I can make you a fresh pot if you prefer?”

“Stew, relax. That will be fine.”

Stew took a deep breath, poured the cup of coffee and then carefully brought it back to the table and joined her.

Vivian took a sip as Stew watched her in silence. Feeling terribly self-conscious, she actually pulled her hair a little over her face as he continued to stare. She took it as long as she could and then blurted out, “Is there something wrong with me?”

Stew smiled from ear to ear. “You’re just a . . . ”

“Mess?”

“No!”

Vivian placed her elbows onto the table and dropped her head into her hands. “What am I going to do, Stewie? I’m destitute. I’ve searched this town high and low for a job but . . . ”

“Do the Tupperware.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Sure you can. I’d certainly be more than happy to help you in any way that I can.”

“That’s sweet of you but my life as I knew it has completely fallen apart and I just can’t muster up the strength to do . . . anything.”

Stew heard Babs’ voice telling him to be his charming self and suddenly he had an idea.

“Well that’s funny,” he said as he reached out for her hand.

“My desperation is funny?”

“No.” With his crutch in one hand and Vivian in the other, he clumsily guided her to the living room. “Um, I was just reminded of a very humorous incident that happened to me not too long ago. You want to hear it?”

“OK.”

Stew pushed some of the Tupperware boxes off of the living room sofa and made room for them to sit. He turned and faced her with a warm smile on his face.

“A while back you may have heard that our grandpa Ross was diagnosed with cancer.”

Vivian nodded very apprehensively.

“And after the doctors did all they could, they sent him home to die.”

She nodded again but looked more frightened than apprehensive.

“Although Babs would disagree with me, I was his favorite grandchild and so I spent as much time with him as I could. So one day, we are just sitting in silence and suddenly he asks me, ‘Stew, can you get a dying man a magazine?’ And I said, ‘Sure Gramps, what kind?’ And he said, ‘I want
Eyeful
.’”