The Hot Flash Club Chills Out (17 page)

26

T
hursday afternoon, Marilyn was pleased with herself. She was in one of those rare periods when, somehow, she’d managed to arrange to facilitate all the actions necessary for the happiness of her family.

The first part of the week had been chaotic. Because Marilyn had spent the day going to Nantucket to have lunch with her Hot Flash friends, Ruth had missed her weekly Saturday-afternoon outing, when Marilyn drove her to the library, grocery store, and pharmacy. Ruth was too sweet to complain, but Marilyn knew her mother missed that little island of togetherness in the midst of the solitude of Ruth’s life. In order to make it up to Ruth, she’d taken her out to have a little meal and do errands on Tuesday night, which meant that Marilyn didn’t get all her papers marked for her Intro to Geology class, which meant she either had to stay up until early morning to get it done, or neglect something needing doing in the house, like harassing the landlord from whom they were renting the condo to get the broken central air conditioning fixed or, more importantly, the toilet in the third-floor bathroom unclogged. Marilyn had no idea what had gone wrong with the toilet, but it intermittently overflowed, sending rivulets of water down the wall in Ian’s study and causing the plaster ceiling to bulge ominously. Ian had had to move his desk and drafting table to the center of the room, which made for an unsettling ambience and no doubt threw what Shirley called the feng shui into negative overdrive. Angus had to use the second-floor bathroom that Ian and Marilyn used, and Angus, absentminded about everything, seemed especially clueless about bathroom etiquette. Angus forgot to put the toilet seat down. Worse, he often forgot to flush. What adult, Marilyn thought, wanting to shriek and pull her hair, forgets to flush?

She remembered when her son was a toddler being toilet trained. It had seemed for a few months that the core of her life revolved around feces. But that was nothing compared to what was going on now. Not only was Angus forgetful about himself, he still couldn’t seem to remember to take his puppy out. Darwin was adorable, a comedian of a bulldog, good-natured and earnestly eager to please. No, it wasn’t Darwin’s fault that he had “accidents” in the house.

This afternoon, neither she nor Ian had scheduled classes, so they planned to spend a couple of hours by themselves, discussing wedding plans. But Ruth received a phone call from the daughter of her beau Ernest, telling her that Ernest had had a minor stroke and was in the hospital. So Ian and Marilyn had spent the afternoon with Ruth, calming her and escorting her to the hospital to see her ailing gentleman friend. Afterward, they gathered up Angus and his dog and drove everyone to the Boston Common, where the trees provided wells of cool shade and the dog could get some exercise and Angus could get some sun on his wan, pasty face.

For a few moments, it was a pleasant family outing. Then Darwin, still in his clumsy puppy phase, raced away from Angus, dragging his leash behind him. Angus yelled, “Come back!” Surprising them all, Darwin obeyed, turning on a dime, then galumphing back. In a flurry of doggy delight, the puppy tripped over his own feet and tumbled into Ruth. Arms flailing, Ruth tottered backward. Ian grabbed her in time to save her from falling. Darwin got up, shook himself, and staggered around in a flash of puppy fur, twining his leash around Ruth’s ankles, paralyzing her, while Angus bumbled around trying to grab the dog and the leash and tripping over his own feet. It was funny, really, and everyone laughed, but Marilyn’s heart had flip-flopped dangerously when she thought her mother might be knocked off her feet. Marilyn could imagine Ruth breaking a hip, and then being hospitalized like Ernest, and then becoming depressed and ill…

But everyone was fine. They drove to Memorial Drive, bought sandwiches and sodas to enjoy while they sat on benches watching the sailboats skim along the Charles River and the roller skaters glide along the sidewalks. Angus fed Darwin a sandwich, and the puppy, full and exhausted, collapsed at their feet for a snooze, so the humans had almost thirty minutes of peace.

And now here they were! Home, with no broken bones! Ruth retired to her ground-floor hideaway, happy to be back with her kitten and her television shows. Angus led his adoring pup up the stairs to the attic and reimmersed himself in his computer world. Ian and Marilyn spent a couple of hours on necessary household and university matters, and then—could it be? It was only ten o’clock at night, and they still had enough energy for a bit of bedroom romance.

They locked the door and turned off the lights. They snuggled up close to one another on the broad bed. The house was quiet around them. Ruth was asleep. Angus might be sleeping or he might be on his computer, but he was engaged. Because the air conditioning was broken, the windows were open, but the night air was muggy and thick, so they’d set an oscillating fan up in one corner of the room. It whirred gently back and forth, wrapping them in a kind of cotton wool of sound. Marilyn burrowed her face into Ian’s chest and for a few moments indulged in his wonderful clean Ian smell. Ian ran his large hand down her back and over the curve of her hip and buttocks.

He was already erect, but he whispered into Marilyn’s hair, “Let’s take our time. Let’s pretend we have all the time in the world.”

Marilyn loved the idea of taking time during lovemaking. Her daytime life was lived at such speed, with so many distractions, so many minutes and hours of multitasking, that bringing the rush and roar of life down to this peaceful secret moment seemed like bliss. Because Marilyn and Ian knew and revered the pace at which the planet polished its stones and frilled the slightest ripple of its seas, taking time seemed to be the way the universe loved its humans to make love. And this was what it was all about, really, what books and sonnets and songs were written for, and movies made and beautiful clothing donned and beds created—for two people to lie together, heart to heart, mouth on mouth, bodies cleaving and souls expanding. This was the golden nugget at the core of the universe, this was the radiance spun, like gold from straw, from the bulk of two human beings.

Ian kissed Marilyn’s mouth softly. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, and she did not mind that they were flattened and flaccid from age, she felt beneath his breath how perfect a thing her body was, that the simple touch of hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen could magic its way from the surface of her skin along her nerves until her entire body unfolded like a flower. She ran her hands over his torso, so warm, so full of power and life, until she felt the curly bristle of his pubic hair. She touched his penis. Ian’s groan was like a rock parted by the green insistence of a plant to reach through and to the sun.

Everything fell away. The university, her mother, Angus, dogs and cats, computers and laboratories, cars and television sets, age and fear of dying, they all fell away, leaving Marilyn and Ian floating in a sea of sensation, the only sound their exhalations, the only sight each other. Ian raised himself up above her, resting on his elbows, not yet penetrating her but caressing her belly and thighs with the length of his penis. Marilyn put her hands on his face and looked into his eyes, which shone in the dark like lamps.

“Oh, Ian, I love you,” she said.

“I love you, Marilyn.” He lowered himself to kiss her. Their bodies trembled against one another, urging for completion. The slightest movement of their legs or torsos shot through them like earthquake tremors.

“Ian,” Marilyn said urgently. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Ian smiled. Lifting himself up again, he poised himself just on the brink of entering Marilyn, and his slightest push set pleasure and need radiating through her thighs and groin. He pushed again, entering her just a little. They both groaned then. Marilyn closed her eyes. She tilted her hips, urging him to come further, and slowly Ian did so, pushing into her like a bore into a vein of gold.

“Oh, Ian,” she cried.

Ian drew back—

The phone rang, startling them out of their mood like an alarm clock blasting them out of a dream. They stared at it as if it were a rabid dog.

Ian slid off Marilyn, resting on his side. “Who would call this late at night?”

“Only family.” Marilyn sat up in bed, terrified. “Teddy, about Lila—or the baby!”

Ian tried to soothe her. “It’s probably just a wrong number.”

Marilyn snatched it up. “Yes? Yes, he’s here.” She handed the phone to Ian, then sat with the sheet clutched to her chest as she watched him talk. An expression of dismay fell over his face and stress threw him into Scottish dialect Marilyn couldn’t understand. “Brae dinna thole merrit oor awfy,” he seemed to blather, punctuated by the occasional, “Ach, Lassie, iss terrible.” She did manage to understand that he was agreeing to fly back to Scotland immediately. Who could it be? Both his parents were dead. His sister and her family were often in touch via e-mail and all seemed to be well there.

Ian finally hung up the phone, his face drained as he said, “My best friend, Tam Muir, died tonight. That was Fiona, his wife.” He buried his face in his hands.

Marilyn put her arms around him. “Oh, Ian.”

“I’ve got to fly over there on the first plane I can catch,” Ian said. “I’ve got to help her with the funeral, and she wants me to speak at the service.”

“Of course. What can I do?”

Ian was pale, stunned. “I-I don’t know.”

“Well, look. You pack. I’ll phone the airlines and get some information. You know there’s a morning flight to Edinburgh.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Marilyn.” But he didn’t move. In only minutes, he’d become an old man. His face was haggard.

Marilyn’s heart ached for his sorrow. “Ian, tell me about Tam.”

Ian smiled. “We were best friends since we were five years old. His parents had a wonderful estate with a trout stream. We used to fish, swim, ride ponies together. It was paradise. We went to university together. Tam went into the medical profession, practiced general medicine in Edinburgh.” As Ian continued to talk, something loosened inside him, and tears welled in his eyes, then rained down his face. He broke down, heaving great wracking sobs.

Later, Marilyn fetched him a brandy, and helped him pack, and phoned the airlines and made the reservation. By the time she set the alarm for five o’clock, it was already two in the morning. They didn’t sleep, but lay curled together on the bed, just trying to rest. When the alarm sounded, they dressed, and Marilyn drove Ian to the airport.

She didn’t stay to watch the plane take off. She had a class to teach at ten. She drove back home with her head dizzy and stuffy with lack of sleep, scarcely aware of the brilliant summer day and the explosion of flowers everywhere. As she walked from her car to the house, she was vaguely aware of the perfume of a neighbor’s clematis, and the hot beat of sunshine on her shoulders. Her mind churned with thoughts of love and sex, of death and sorrow and aging.

She was so completely fatigued! Her head ached. She was so shaky, fitting her key in the lock took several tries. She didn’t have the energy to climb to her bedroom. She’d just collapse for a brief nap on the living room sofa. Finally she opened the front door and stepped inside the front hall.

“Marilyn! Marilyn! Help! Help!”

Ruth.

Heart lurching, Marilyn raced down the stairs to the ground floor. “Mother?”

Her mother stood in front of the sofa, wringing her hands. She was still in her pink flannel robe, which was wet and stained with coffee. “He won’t stop, I can’t get him to stop!” Ruth cried.

Darwin, the adorable fat bulldog, had Marie, Ruth’s kitten, trapped in a corner. The little kitten was arched and hissing like a teapot. The bulldog was barking so hard he nearly rose off the floor with each yelp. His tail wagged back and forth like a frantic metronome.

Marilyn hesitated. Darwin was only a pup, but his massive head and powerful jaw filled Marilyn with trepidation. If he bit her, if he only
nipped
her, he could do substantial damage, couldn’t he?

“Stop! Bad dog!” Ruth cried. “Oh, my poor little kitten.”

Marilyn had to do it. She plunged in, grabbed the dog by his collar, and yanked him away so hard that they both almost fell over backward. Darwin didn’t try to bite, but did struggle to get back to his prey as Marilyn hauled him across the floor and up the stairs. When she even slightly relinquished the pressure of her hold on his collar, he would flip, with surprising agility for such a fat little butterball, and try to go in the opposite direction. Bent nearly double, her fingers hooked tightly around his collar, Marilyn half-carried, half-escorted a barking, wriggling, tail-wagging, slobbering Darwin up three flights of stairs to his master’s room.

Angus’s door was partly open.

“Angus?” Marilyn called.

No answer.

She pushed the door open and dragged Darwin inside. Angus was sound asleep in front of the computer, his head resting on the desk, his arms hanging down limp.

“Angus!” Marilyn slammed the door behind her and released the dog, who raced around the room, yipping triumphantly.

Angus continued to snore.

“Angus!” Annoyed, Marilyn shook the young man’s shoulder.

Finally he opened his eyes. “What.”

“Angus, wake up. Angus, listen to me. You didn’t latch the bedroom door properly. Darwin got out and went down to my mother’s quarters and terrorized her kitten.”

Angus yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Ach, he was only playing with her.”

“Well, he
acted
like he wanted to eat her. The point is, he frightened my mother, who is eighty-seven years old. She could have had a heart attack. She could have tripped over the dog. You have got to keep him under control if you’re going to have him in this house.”

“Fine,” Angus said. “Sorry.”

“Angus, come on,” Marilyn pleaded. “Look at your pet! He needs to go out! He’s full of energy. And I’m sure he has to pee.” She glanced across the room, where a water bowl sat on some newspapers. “Angus! Darwin’s water bowl is dry! Really, that’s cruel. You’ve got to keep it filled! What’s the
matter
with you! I don’t care if you waste your life away hiding up here like an albino vampire, but I do care that you neglect your animal!”