Michael's Secrets (13 page)

“Oh my God! What a hell of a surprise! Doreen, get out of the can, he’s here!” Rona yelled after letting Michael go and dragging him into the living room.

Doreen’s house was open and airy, just like a photo spread in
Architectural Digest
. It was decorated in whites and beiges with a hint of green and yellow accents. The living room had a large patio door on one side overlooking the golf course and a cathedral ceiling. Ironically, that golf course was where his mother’s second husband, Bart, was killed after being struck by lightning on the eighteenth green. There were two large white leather sofas, and Rona motioned for Michael to sit down.

“Doreen, wipe your ass and get down here!” she yelled, always crass and with a big mouth to go with it.

“Shut up, Rona, I’m coming,” Doreen yelled from upstairs.

Michael looked up and wearing her blonde hair as she had since Vidal Sassoon styled it in the late 1960s, Doreen appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a sweater and slacks in her signature peach. She had two small gold hoops in her ears and a matching necklace, and on her hand was a diamond that was even larger than the one she wore twenty years earlier. She descended the stairs slowly, as Michael got up to greet her. He knew she had back surgery and a quadruple bypass in the past few years, but she still looked fantastic, although even shorter than her original five feet. Michael hugged her before she reached the bottom step, so she could reach him for a kiss on the cheek.

“Mr. Perfect,” she said. “You look fantastic. How old are you, now?”

“Mrs. Wonderful, you know how old I am. I’m forty-three.”

“Oy vay! Lie, I tell you, lie,” Rona said from where she was sitting on the couch. “You make us feel so old.”

“Please, you two don’t look a day over sixty,” Michael said as they sat down on the couch.

“That’s because we’re both over seventy-five,” Doreen said, laughing. “Can I get you anything? I made lunch. You’re staying for lunch aren’t you?”

“Of course, he’s staying for lunch. He wouldn’t just drop by and leave,” Rona chimed in.

“Yes, I can stay for lunch,” he answered as he smiled at them. “Rona, where is your house?”

“Next door,” she said. “They’re renovating it, so I’m staying with Doreen for a couple of months.”

Michael looked at both of them and wondered how they could stand to live together for that long. They both had very strong personalities, and where Rona was loud, Doreen was always on, even with a heart condition and back problems, she was still quite animated and the center of attention. As with all his mother’s friends, he loved these two women. He could not remember a time when they weren’t in his life. And, here they were, two elderly women, yet they were as energetic and lively as he remembered them twenty years before.

“He needs to eat; he looks skinny,” Doreen said.

“Are you kidding, I am at least twenty pounds overweight,” Michael answered, sounding a bit like his mother, which he would never admit and having not stepped on a scale in quite a while, even though his clothes were starting to fit loosely.

“No, Doreen is right, you’re too thin,” Rona said as she got up to go to the kitchen. “I’ll get you a snack to tide you over before we have lunch.” Michael heard a bag opening and its contents being poured into a bowl after Rona went into the kitchen.

Doreen leaned toward Michael and whispered, “That bitch is driving me crazy. One more day in my house, and someone is going to end up dead. Do you know she snores as loud as she laughs? I can hear her two bedrooms over.”

Rona returned with pretzels in one bowl and mustard in another as Doreen leaned away from Michael, who almost cringed as this was his mother’s favorite snack. He had a vision of her dipping the hard pretzels in the mustard and eating them slowly, and it about made him wince at the thought of doing the same.

“Rona, how can you serve him that dry
drek
without something to drink?” Doreen asked as she got up slowly to go the kitchen.

Rona picked up her purse and pulled out a cigarette. She then went over to the patio door and opened it, standing in the doorway as she lit up. She took a puff and whispered in Michael’s direction, “I should have stayed with Neil and his wife. Do you know what it is like living with that tramp? The woman has had two heart attacks, bypass surgery and walks with a limp, and she still has the
alta cockers
coming over all hours of the night for a screw!” She then exhaled and raised her eyebrows as if to confirm what she said.

“What are you whispering about, Rona?” Doreen asked as she returned with two sodas. She handed one to Michael and kept the other for herself.

“You couldn’t bring me one?” Rona asked as she put out her cigarette after a few puffs, blew the remaining smoke in the direction of the patio, closed the door and stepped back inside.

“You especially know where the kitchen is, Rona. Every time I walk by the refrigerator, all I see is your asshole and pockets,” Doreen said with a smirk to her friend.

“I’m surprised you left your bedroom long enough to notice, Doreen,” Rona said as she went back to the kitchen for a soda.

Although they were bickering, Michael knew they were still the best of friends and would do anything for each other. Sixty years of friendship is hard to ignore or let go.

“That woman can eat and eat, and she never gains any weight. I’m telling you it’s unnatural,” Doreen, who struggled to maintain her full figure, whispered to him. “It’s a good thing I have money, or I would be out on the street with all she eats.”

“Doreen, remind me to call Neil and tell him to send over some more food from the deli,” Rona said as she returned with her soda in hand, indicating Doreen had not really paid for any of the food. Rona then sat on Michael’s other side.

“Does Neil still run Sapperstein’s Deli?” Michael asked, deciding not to eat any of the pretzels.

“Going on ten years,” she answered as she raised her glass to take a sip.

The two remaining women from his mother’s forty-year Tuesday night Mah Jongg game were sitting on either side of Michael, and he was happy to be there. When he was a kid, he never would have imagined his sitting on a couch as an adult between Rona and Doreen as they bickered about living together. It was almost surreal. A friendship like theirs was very rare. It was sad, too, as three of their best friends were gone, Arlene, his mother, and Florence, as well as all their husbands. They were the only ones left.
What will happen when either of them dies?
Michael thought.

Doreen started to cry and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve. Then Rona also cried and pulled a tissue out of her own sleeve. He remembered the “sleeve tissue dispensers” and how he wondered as a little boy if all these women had holes in their forearms.

“Why are you two crying?” he asked with alarm.

“Oh we are just a couple of sentimental old farts, Michael,” Rona said between sobs.

“Your being here just brings back so many memories, and we are just so happy you turned out so well,” Doreen said as she patted Michael’s knee and dabbed her eyes. Not wanting to be outdone, Rona also patted his knee. And, he noticed them looking at each other to see who could pat the most affectionately. He never felt so loved. But what did they mean by happy he turned out so well? Were they worried about him? Did he really want to know?

“OK, you two
yentas
, stop crying, or I’ll start,” Michael said, wanting this tear-fest to end since he had already been crying earlier that day.

“You’re right,” Doreen said. “Rona, stop crying, this is a happy occasion. Michael didn’t drop by to see us blubber.”

“You started it,” Rona said indignantly.

“Do you two argue a lot?” Michael asked.

“All the time,” Doreen said as if surprised by his question.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rona said as if there were any other way to conduct a friendship.

“And your friendship survives all that bickering?” he asked with wonder, as he did everything possible to avoid arguments or fighting and especially yelling. Michael couldn’t imagine having a friendship based on bickering.

“Of course,” Doreen said. “We’re like sisters. That is how we show our love. She can say anything to me, and I to her.” Then Doreen leaned toward Michael, shook her finger and said, “But, God help anyone else who says anything about Rona.”

“And, you, Rona?” Michael asked.

“Please, half the gossip around town about her, I started, myself,” she said and laughed that loud laugh Michael missed so much. Doreen also joined in the laughter, and he was infected by the humor as well, as he laughed and truly was glad to have made this special side trip.

Doreen stopped laughing long enough to yell at Rona, “Careful, Rona, or those teeth’ll come flying out.”

“How many times do I have to tell you these
are
my teeth,” Rona yelled at Doreen, then looked at Michael and said, “After all, I paid for them.” They started laughing again.

“Can you believe it? They actually made her a set that matched those horse teeth she had,” Doreen said as she got up and looked at her friend.

“Somewhere, there is an Osmond with a toothless grin,” Rona answered back.

“Or Mr. Ed,” Michael said.

“Good one, Michael,” Doreen said as she went into the kitchen slowly.

Rona slapped Michael’s leg and got up herself. He followed them into the kitchen and sat at the dinette, happily watching as they prepared lunch, constantly tripping over each other and bickering about what plates to use and what containers to open. Rona put a plate of egg salad and a tray of sliced challah on the table, while Doreen placed a bowl of large, kosher pickles, followed by bowls of potato salad and coleslaw. Rona then placed a bowl of potato chips and a plate of pimento stuffed olives on the table.

“I hope there’s enough food,” Michael said, missing these large Jewish meals.

“Rona, did you pull the kugle out of the oven?” Doreen asked.

Rona then opened the oven and pulled out a kugle and placed it on the table. There was no room for plates at this point.

“Kugle? I haven’t had good kugle in years,” he said with delight.

They both stopped to look at the table, then in unison, they said, “The whitefish.”

Rona then retrieved the whitefish from the refrigerator, and Michael was certain they had no room to eat. Rona, sensing his concern, immediately rearranged everything, as per her years of restaurant management experience, and amazingly they had room for the plates, cutlery, and napkins. When the iced tea was poured, Michael was confident he was back in the South. A few states north, and they would have been enjoying cream soda.

They both sat down, and Michael said, “When do the other guests arrive?”

They looked at each other and then at Michael and laughed again, while he prepared himself for Rona’s teeth to come flying in his direction or land in the egg salad.

“Go ahead, Michael, don’t be shy, eat,” Rona said. “We wanted to be sure we had all your favorites.”

“You have this food in your house all the time?” he asked as he took a slice of kugle, followed by some whitefish and egg salad. Michael had not eaten like this since he could remember.

“It pays to have a roommate with a deli in the family,” Doreen said ironically as she filled her plate with whitefish and egg salad and took a piece of challah.

Rona made a sandwich with the challah and egg salad and took two slices of kugle. She then piled on the white fish, potato salad, and coleslaw and topped off her plate with a pickle. Doreen gave her a look then looked at Michael, rolling her eyes in Rona’s direction.

“Rona, do you have enough food on your plate?” Doreen asked, sarcastically.

Rona looked at her plate then reached for the potato chips, and after grabbing a handful, declared unapologetically, “Now I do.”

Michael smiled at the two of them as they began eating in silence. Between bites of the kugle, which was among the best he ever tasted, he asked, “When you said you were glad I turned out all right, what did you mean?”

Rona swallowed her mouthful of food and Doreen put down her fork as they looked at each other. It was as if each knew what the other was thinking.

“What?” Michael asked as he put down his fork.

Rona put her sandwich down and looked at Michael, and Doreen also stared in his direction.

“What?” he asked again, looking at each of them.

Rona spoke first, “Michael, we can only imagine what it must have been like growing up in your home. Hannah was our dear friend, but we worried about you all the time.”

“When your mother told us she was pregnant,” Doreen began then paused, “we girls, Arlene, Florence, Rona, and I, made a pact to look after her child.”

“Why would you do that?” Michael asked.

They both hesitated and sat back.

“You can tell me,” he said. “It’s no secret I never spoke to my mother again after I left home in 1985, and you know what happened to make me leave. I won’t get upset.”

They looked at each other before Rona said to Doreen, “I think we can tell him. Enough time has passed.”

Doreen inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly then began, “Michael, your mother loved you the only way she knew how. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough.”

“Doreen, you’re dancing around the issue,” Rona said. “He’s an adult; he’s over forty; he can handle this.”

“Handle what?” Michael asked, wanting to know what secret they were hiding.

“Michael, your mother never wanted to have children. As a matter of fact, your father didn’t either,” Rona began. “When your mother became pregnant after so many years of marriage, she wanted an abortion, but Arlene, Doreen, Florence, and I talked her out of it. That was when we agreed to look after you. That is why you were always invited over to our homes to play with our kids and stay over night and go on vacations with our families.”

“But, it wasn’t enough,” Doreen said, interrupting Rona. “Florence told us about the bruises and how you would get quiet and go and sit for periods of time without talking to or playing with any of the other kids. You were closer to her than any of us, and she tried in vain to get you to open up, but she also knew your mother would harm you if you revealed anything.”