Sisterchicks on the Loose (9 page)

“I can take care of that for you,” Joona said.

Penny handed him her credit card and the taxi driver’s business card with the amount due written on the back.

Shifting from my right foot to the left, I noticed I was nearly thawed out. At least Penny hadn’t talked me into throwing away my old brown boots at the airport bathroom just because I had a pair of tennis shoes in my suitcase. All my nice, warm socks were in my suitcase along with my favorite pajamas. As Penny completed the reservation, I felt sad that I was going to have to spend my souvenir and gift money on underwear and warm socks if my suitcase didn’t show up.

A young bellman loaded Penny’s luggage onto a wheeled cart and looked at me as if checking to see if I had any baggage to add.

“No luggage,” I said meekly, holding out my empty hands.

He took us up the elevator to the junior executive suite and opened the door to reveal a spacious area that made me gasp. I had seen hotel rooms like this in movies but never had been in such an elegant room.

The modern decor included a leather couch and chair in a separate sitting area by the television. In the corner was a beautiful desk. The two beds were queen-size and covered with inviting, puffed-up down comforters.

“What would you like to eat?” Penny asked as soon as the bellman left. “I’m going to call room service.”

“Anything. And the sooner the better. I’m starving! You wouldn’t mind, would you, if I took a bath while you ordered?”

Penny looked up at me for one incredulous moment and
then burst out laughing. “Would I mind? Is that what you said? Would I mind if you removed all those hideous fragrances from your body?” She scooped a pillow off the bed and threw it at me. “No, I don’t think I’d mind.”

I threw back the pillow, laughing along with her. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I used your shampoo then, either.”

“Anything you want or need is yours. Help yourself.”

I foraged through her suitcase looking for her cosmetics while Penny studied the menu.

“Can you hand me my purse?” she asked. “I can’t read this without my glasses.”

“I don’t remember your wearing glasses before.”

“I know. I just got them about six months ago. It’s very sad to become so feeble.”

“Penny, you are far from feeble.” I handed her the shoulder bag, trying to keep a reasonable distance so she wouldn’t have to smell me.

Flipping her glasses in place, Penny said, “Oh, much better. Here we go. How does
kalakukko
sound?”

“What is it?”

“Fish and pork pie.”

I grimaced. “What else do they have?”

“Reindeer meat, but that’s only on the dinner menu. We’re too late for dinner.” Penny leaned back in the chair at the desk and turned to the next page, as if she had found her interesting reading for the evening.

Gathering a few essentials, I headed for the bathroom, only to discover a wire-rimmed basket on the bathroom counter filled with everything I needed. The towels, white and fluffed up, were stacked on a shelf. Two thick robes hung from pegs on the wall.

“They have an assorted cheese and fruit platter for a party of six to twenty,” Penny called out. “How hungry are you?”

“Don’t they have something simple?”

“What were you hoping for? Cheeseburgers and fries?”

“No, of course not. I was thinking of something like an omelette.”

“Excellent idea. I’m going to call the kitchen and see what they can come up with. It’ll be a surprise.”

I closed the bathroom door and paused a moment.
Oh, Penny Girl, you and your surprises!

Turning the faucet, I watched as refreshingly clear water tumbled into the large, deep tub. Within minutes the bathroom filled with steam. I unwrapped a bar of almond-scented soap and let the water rise higher than I ever would have in my tub at home.

Stripped down to my weary flesh, I cautiously slid one foot into the water. The other foot willingly followed. With all the honor of a regal ceremony, I lowered myself into the pristine water until the blessed element covered me up to my neck.

It wasn’t enough. Closing my eyes and drawing my breath deep into my chest, I sunk all the way under until I was submerged. I could feel the ends of my hair darting about my neck like tiny fish in a tropical lagoon. The shimmering waters carried my weight and lifted from me all that was rancid. I floated in a free, uncomplicated state of tranquility.

With my chin up, I lifted my head out of the water, gulping in the steamy oxygen. I tried to capture the floating bar of soap that was bumping against the tub’s side. Adrift like a row-boat that had been torn from its moorings, the almond-scented bar had no choice but to release to me its cleansing powers. Contentedly I lingered in the warm, soapy water for what
seemed like a long time. I didn’t ask my mind to assimilate that this wasn’t my bathtub and this water wasn’t Chinook Springs water. It was better to be still and breathe and nothing more.

Fragrant, fresh, and free, I left all my tensions in the tub and watched them swirl down the drain when I released the plug.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

It’s only a bath!
my mind chided, as I reached for the fluffy white towel.

Oh, but what a bath!
my heart responded. The heart knows truths that the mind could never perceive, there in its ivory tower. Such a going under and coming back up can heal and soothe and bring back life.

I decided that if women ruled the world, such a soaking would be mandatory for all individuals before any major treaties were negotiated. Ah yes, after that all negotiations could lead directly to world peace.

Slipping into the luxurious robe, I exited my private Shangri-la with all the grace of a ruling queen.

“Do you take baths at home very often?” I asked Penny.

“No. And it’s really too bad because we have a tub in our bathroom with whirlpool jets. Nicole uses it more than I do.”

“Baths are marvelous,” I said in my dreamiest voice.

“You certainly smell fresh and friendly. Like a fortune cookie.”

I almost asked if fortune cookies really had a smell, but questioning Penny’s bionic nose when it came to anything in the dessert category was pointless.

“Room service is on its way,” Penny said.

I noticed she had unloaded the contents of all three suitcases onto a bed and was busy sorting and piling. She
definitely had enough clothes for both of us. For a month.

“What did you order?”

“Omelettes and something else.”

“What’s the something else?”

“I don’t know. I had a fun conversation with the woman in the kitchen. I told her this was our first meal in the land of my ancestors and we could go for something festive to top off the omelette.”

“What if festive to her means pickled squid brains?”

“I suggested something chocolate, and she said she had just what we needed.”

“
Chocolate
is a word that women universally understand, isn’t it? Sort of like how I felt on the airplane while I was talking to that young mother. Chocolate and babies know no language borders.”

“Yeah, what was the deal with that mom?” Penny asked. “Did she speak any English?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then how did you end up with her baby?”

“I felt for her. That’s what I meant by the unspoken universal languages of all mothers. Don’t you remember what it was like when our kids were that small? We could never do anything without a little koala bear hanging on us.”

“It seems so long ago. I don’t remember things as well as I used to. I think I burned up too many brain cells during my wild years.” Penny tilted her head. “Speaking of wild years, did you really think I was going to let that taxi driver take us to the disco?”

“I couldn’t tell by the way you were flirting with him.”

“Flirting with him! I wasn’t flirting!”

“Then what was that?”

“That was public relations. That’s what I do.”

“And with the hotel manager? And the kitchen chef? Is that public relations, too?”

“Yes, public relations with a dash of schmoozing. Perfect recipe for success, don’t you think?”

I didn’t respond.

Penny put her hand on her hip. “What? Do you think I did something wrong?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being around you when you’re schmoozing.”

“This is how I operate in the business world. I don’t lie. I just creatively direct the situations to get the desired results.”

I folded my arms across the front of my cozy robe.

“What?”

“It could be considered manipulation, Penny. You know how to get what you want. You always have.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Penny asked. “I mean, tell me if you think I have an integrity problem.”

“No, I’m not accusing you of having an integrity problem.”

“Then what am I doing that’s wrong?”

I thought about how Penny’s “public relations” techniques weren’t dishonest or cruel. She opened herself up and gave freely to others. I think she expected others to respond with equal generosity.

“I don’t know,” I said after a pause.

“Well, you think about it while I take a shower. You, more than any other woman, know me by heart, Sharon. If you see anything out of line, I want to hear about it.”

Penny always had been open and teachable. But I couldn’t remember a time that I ever asked anyone to evaluate my actions or point out any undesirable qualities in my life.

I thought back on when our friendship was young and Penny asked me to help her practice what she was going to say at her baptism. Our church was more accustomed to baptizing children than adults. I think Penny realized that she and Dave were an anomaly and she didn’t want to shock any of the old ladies with what she called her “spicy testimony.” I stopped Penny before she could read me the four pages she had written out. I told her I didn’t want to know all that stuff from her past. I suggested she limit herself to three or four sentences and focus on making it clear that she was now an obedient follower of Christ.

I think that was the worst thing I ever did to her.

At her baptism, Penny stepped into the water, working hard to keep her expression flat even though I knew she was ecstatic. All eyes were on her. All ears were listening. Calmly reciting a few generic phrases of Christianese, Penny plugged her nose and went under. Up she came, glistening and spilling laughter from her merry heart with her arms in the air. She was so full of life.

I knew then that I had robbed her and those in attendance of experiencing the real passion for God that was exploding in Penny’s life. I had censored her. I diluted her spirit in an effort to make her more like my type of Christian so she would be acceptable to people like Gloria.

I told myself I’d never do that again. I’d never try to change Penny. She was a zealous woman, true. But she was also humble and teachable.

Unwrapping the towel from my head, I leaned back, shaking the water from the ends of my clean hair.
Why do I still feel it’s my job to correct her and corral her, even when I made myself promise that I wouldn’t do that?

Hoping to find a brush, I reached for my shoulder bag and dumped the contents on my bed. My belongings formed a small mound. I looked over at the mounds on Penny’s bed and back at my meager collection.

The contrast reminded me of when we first met Dave and Penny. When they started out, they had very little. They decided to get married when they found out they were expecting Noah. At the time they were living in a one-room converted farm equipment shed under high power lines beside a peach tree orchard.

The first time I visited their substandard housing with a box of maternity clothes, my oldest, Tyler, was with me. He was three, and he thought sitting on the potty to take a shower at Dave and Penny’s was the most wonderful thing in the world. The soapy water ran under the lopsided bathroom door and down the linoleum floor to a drain. Tyler came home and asked Jeff if we could put a drain in the middle of the floor in our house, too.

My dear hubby quietly collected funds from a few church folks and arranged for Dave and Penny to move into a two-bedroom cracker box before Noah was born. Dave had a full-time job by then and was taking computer classes at the community college. Penny read a library book on real estate and found a way for them to buy their little cracker box of a house.

A year and a half later, with a toddler on her hip and another on the way, ever-clever Penny managed to finagle some creative financing. They bought a serious fixer-upper in a nice neighborhood while renting out the cracker box. Penny made good use of all my hand-me-down baby clothes. She stuck to a tight budget, and she and I worked for days trying to sanitize
their terribly neglected fixer-upper. The house had four bedrooms, and we were certain that three of them had been used to raise chickens.

Within fourteen months, Penny had turned that chicken coop into a cupcake, and before their third child, Nathan, was born, she had sold it for three times what they had paid. They bought a house six doors down the street from us and lived there for nine years. I think those were the best years for all of us. I didn’t realize at the time what a gift it was to be so close. Our lives were meshed together, and that made both of our families stronger.

Then Dave was offered an incredible job in the Silicon Valley. Dave never finished college, but he was sought after because of his exceptional computer programming abilities.

When they moved to the San Francisco Bay area two years ago, Penny managed to buy and sell another fixer-upper to get into the neighborhood where they wanted to be. I hadn’t been to their new house, which they had bought five months ago, but I’d seen pictures. By Chinook Springs standards, they were living in a mansion.

Just like the contrasting stacks of belongings on our hotel room beds, Penny and Dave now had a blessed abundance, and I was the one with the drain in the middle of my budget.

A knock on the door startled me. A young woman delivered our midnight omelettes. Each plate was covered with a silver dome.

“Are you Penny?” she asked warmly.

“No.”