The Land of Mango Sunsets (21 page)

For the next forty-five minutes or so, Harrison and I danced some very rudimentary version of the Argentine tango and it was about the sexiest forty-five minutes of my life. We even learned a few variations on a two-step pattern that made it look like we actually knew what we were doing. I was addicted.

“You two are naturals,” Manuel said. “You should dance together all the time.”

Oh, ha-ha, that’s not possible, no, we’re not, but thanks anyway.

When Harrison dropped me off back on the Island, I was still dazed.

“That was amazing, Harrison, thanks.”

Do you see how nonchalant I was about what had actually transpired? I mean, what the devil was I supposed to say? That being next to him created a flammable situation?

“Well, your mother is determined to tango at your son’s wedding, so by golly, we’re going to tango.”

“Heck, I might even tango myself! That was great fun.”

“Old Manuel is from Buenos Aires, where the tango began. He’s something, isn’t he?”

“He sure is. He sure is.”

Harrison and I were stuck in each other’s eyes once more. It made me very uncomfortable to think that again and again, intense feelings for my own mother’s boyfriend were cropping up. What was the matter with me?

I said, “Well, listen, thanks again.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. I have to.”

“When are you coming back?”

“As fast as I can,” I said, and realized how that sounded to him.

He smiled from ear to ear, and said, “Okay, well, travel safe and hurry back.”

My face must have been bloodred when I came back in the house. Liz was making a peanut-butter sandwich. She was alone in the kitchen.

“So how was your tango session?”

“Amazing. I’m going to make Kevin take lessons with me when I get back to New York.”

“I saw you and Harrison out there staring at each other. What are you messing around with Manny for?”

“What are you talking about? Harrison is the meaningful other of my dear mother.”

“No, he isn’t. They’re just friends. Harrison lost his mother when he was just a kid. Then his wife dumped him. But good. Then his daughter moved to Costa Rica, and he says they have a good relationship and all, but do you or anybody else ever hear any news about her?”

“No. But I know my mother is supersweet on Harrison. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Whatever. I’m just telling you what I think. Harrison’s heart has been shot full of more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese, but I’ll bet you two months’ rent that he’s way in love with you.”

“Girl? You’ve been watching too many soaps.”

“Probably. Or maybe not!”

“Manny is picking me up at six. I have to get cleaned up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Something’s not kosher with Manny. That’s all.”

“Liz? Do you know something that I don’t?”

“Nope. Absolutely not or I would tell you. It’s just that I’ve known enough creeps in my life.”

I showered, put on a little makeup for the occasion, and decided to
wear gray slacks and a black cashmere turtleneck sweater. Instead of loafers, I wore a pair of black suede mules with a low heel. I glanced in the mirror and decided I looked too dull. Thinking Mother might have something to liven up my outfit, I went down the hall and knocked on her door.

“Come in!” she said. “I’m just reading.”

In the corner of her room, near the sliding-glass door to her mall balcony, she was sitting in her club chair and ottoman covered in the palest shade of yellow velvet, piped in the same green of Granny Smith apples. The light from her floor lamp combined with the fading light of the afternoon illuminated her face. She had never looked lovelier than she did at that moment.

“Hey, Miss Josie! How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine. Don’t you look nice? Going out?”

“Yes. Manny the Man said he wanted to make dinner for me. I won’t be out late. Anyway, do you have a scarf or something I can borrow to do something exciting for this boring outfit of mine?”

“Sure. Look in the middle drawer. There’s a red paisley scarf in there that might look nice. But just take whatever you want.”

“This one?” I held it up for her to see.

“Yes, that’s the one. You know, I still have my mother’s locket there in my jewelry box. Why don’t you take it? I never wear it. It has my daddy’s baby picture in it.”

“Oh, Mother! Are you sure?”

I lifted the lid of the silver chest and there it was. It was beautiful, hand-engraved in Old English on one side with my grandmother’s initials, and a tiny ruby chip was set in the other side.

“Well, try it on and let’s see how it looks.”

It slipped easily over my head and the round gold locket hung perfectly in the center of my chest. The perfection of its craftsmanship stood out against my black sweater.

“It’s really sweet, isn’t it?” I said, opening it to look at the faded tiny
photograph of my grandfather. “How precious was he in that little cap?”

“My daddy was a darling man. You keep it, sweetheart. It’s not worth a fortune but it has great sentimental value to me.”

“I will treasure it, Mother. Thank you.”

“How was your tango lesson? Did you let the music fill your soul?”

She giggled and I just shook my head.

“It was so much fun I couldn’t believe it.”

“Harrison’s a gem, isn’t he?”

“Probably one in a million…” I heard the door open downstairs and knew Manny was there. “I guess that’s my
hot date
. I’ll see you later.”

He was in the kitchen talking to Liz.

“Something smells awfully good!” I said. “How’re you?” I said to Manny, and gave him the tiniest of kisses on his cheek.

“Some
body
smells good,” he said.

I said, “Thanks.”

“Vegan chili,” Liz said. “I found it in the freezer. You kids have fun tonight!”

On the ride to Manny’s house, we were awkward with each other, conversation coming in bits and pieces. For some reason, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to talk to him about. All I could think about was the tango music, and yes, him. Harrison, that is.

When I told Manny about my dance lesson with Harrison, he said, “Well, I’ll bet he wouldn’t look as good in a sombrero as I do, right?”

I wanted to say, Harrison Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in a sombrero, and if he was, it would be Halloween, and he’s about a thousand times more appealing than you anyway.

But I didn’t say that.

I thought I said, “Manny, no one looks quite like you in a sombrero.”

But what he heard me say was “I’ll bet you have the better kitchen.”

“Kitchen? I definitely have the better kitchen. What’s that got to do with a sombrero?”

You see, this is what happens at a certain stage in your life. You have to become vigilant so that your tongue and brain stay connected. Obviously I needed more than crossword puzzles to stay sharp.

“Oh, my goodness! How silly of me! I was just thinking what a fabulous kitchen you have, that’s all.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m pretty proud of it. Harrison’s got a nice house, though. Ever been there?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I have not. Where is it?”

“Old village. On the water. He never really furnished it, though. I think he was so blown out by his wife dumping him that he can’t think about stuff like curtains and rugs and all. But it’s a great house. Lots of character.”

“Like him.”

“Yeah, like him.”

I could sense some annoyance from Manny, as though he was a wee bit jealous of Harrison, which of course was completely a waste of energy. I decided some flattery was in order or else the evening was going to fall to pieces.

“So, Mr. Manly Man, what are we having for dinner? You’re such a divine cook, I’m sure it’s something heavenly.”

This brightened him right up.

“Well? I’ve got rack of lamb all ready to pop in the oven, little red potatoes roasted with garlic and rosemary, and a pear-and-endive salad with Roquefort crumbles.”

“No dessert?”

“Yep. I made a cake this morning.”

“Chocolate?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Can’t you drive faster?”

The predictable happened. We drank a great bottle of red wine, we ate like starving animals, and then we peeled and shed and dropped articles of clothing and jewelry until we reached his bedroom, whereupon
we had sex in his bed like crazy teenagers. Well, he had sex like a crazy teenager, I got pushed and pulled around the bed, wound up sweaty and upside down, thinking at first he might have had more fun without me. But after a few minutes I decided, what did I know? I was not any kind of an expert on the machinations of physical passions, and anyway, it was wonderful to be wanted. But then I thought, shoot, I had read enough magazines in my life to recall that there were ways I could coax Manny along to include me in the action. To be blunt, he didn’t exactly send me to that place where you became one with the cosmos in a state of exquisite joy and relinquished all earthly desire, except to repeat the act as soon as humanly possible. No, he didn’t, but it was better than nothing. I reassured myself that all I had to do was redirect some of his enthusiasm.

He got up to go to the bathroom and I noticed that in addition to the disorder all around me, my locket was missing from the bedside table where I had put it. Thinking it had slipped in between the bed and the bedside table, I reached down, and sure enough it was there. But my hand hit something plastic and round, like a pill bottle. I pulled it up to see what I had found. It was a bottle of penicillin, prescribed for Helen Sinkler. Wasn’t his estranged wife named Helen? Yes, she was. And the prescription was only two weeks old.

I said nothing to Manny about finding the bottle of his supposed ex-wife’s pills. In fact, I put them back where they were and let the evening continue as though I didn’t smell a nine-hundred-pound skunk. Later on, back at the island, I didn’t tell Mother or Liz about it either. We sat on the porch enjoying the crisp air, feeling the first stirrings of spring, and I said I wished I could stay longer.

“I’ve got to get Priscilla and Charlie’s invitations in the mail…”

“Are they going to be regular or decaf?” Liz said, and we all whooped it up. Yes, I could laugh about it, too, because at that point, I was finally liberated.

“Don’t even imagine it! But I’ve got to firm up things with the flowers, and oh goodness, there are a thousand details…”

By the time Manny drove me to the airport the next morning, I had regrouped my emotions and neatly compartmentalized the pill discovery, telling myself the facts would reveal themselves eventually. I told him I couldn’t wait to see him at the wedding and that was the truth. It was hard to believe it was just a few weeks away. He said he was excited, too, that he hadn’t been to New York in ages, and he wanted to take me to some crazy little restaurant that he loved. We talked about the Jamaican menu and could he tango and did he want to stay with me or did he prefer a hotel? We decided that because my estranged son and his family would
be there, it was probably best for him to stay with Harrison, and I should not worry, he would find them a place.

The thing that nearly convinced me that I should entirely forget my concern about the bottle of pills was that he made an unsolicited grandiloquent speech about how he was so honored to be included in a family event of this importance. He said he knew how much it meant to all of us. And that he had been such a desperately lonely man for so long. To top it all off, he told me he was crazy about me and kissed me good-bye in public without the slightest trace of self-consciousness.

I did not know what to do except wave good-bye to him, thank him for the ride, and tell him I was crazy about him, too.

Hours later, and after a long episode of lying to myself, I turned the key in my door. Harry was there on the coffee table and whistled to see me.

“Charles is a horse’s ass,” he said.

“He’s not the only one,” I said. “There’s a whole population of them out in the world.” He climbed on my fingers and I stroked his feathers. “Mellie loves Harry. Let’s unpack and get you a treat.”

I spent the afternoon doing laundry, watering plants, going through tons of mail, the bulk of which I threw away. Charlie and Priscilla’s invitations had arrived and that was a great relief.

Finally, when I was satisfied that my house was back in order, I opened the package from the printer and took a deep breath. There I sat, alone at my kitchen table, holding my older son’s wedding invitation in my hands, running my fingers over the words and thinking how significant that very moment was. If my Charles, Charlie’s father, had not been such an egomaniacal sociopath, he might have been there with me to share the rush of joyous emotion I felt. I would have said, look Charles, look at this. Remember ours? Remember how we fretted over the wording? I saved one, you know. And he might have said, well, go get it and let’s compare it to our son’s. It might not have been a landmark moment, but it would have been another tiny stone to stack on the others that made the huge moun
tain of memories that are shared over a lifetime. I was not about to allow myself to become sentimental over being alone then. Charles was the one who was missing out. But truthfully, I felt the smallest of pangs, having to remind myself yet again that life had changed and perhaps it was better this way.

I had yet to receive Charlie and Priscilla’s mailing list and added that to the to-do list I had started. I made another note to pick up the silver coffee services and flatware for my sons, to ask Kevin to bring home boxes and tissue to wrap them, and to drop off my silver tea service to be polished as well. My living room was a little ragged-looking with so much silver and all the other items gone, but I thought I would just ask Kevin what he thought. My eye probably needed to adjust to a leaner amount of accessories. Maybe with a little rearranging and moving things around, I could make it look fresh again.

Then there was the matter of the garden cleanup for my soiree the night before the wedding. I planned to handwrite those invitations, and all at once I panicked at the thought of inviting Charles and Judith. I had not even considered that I would have to see them except at the wedding. Was I cosmopolitan and sophisticated enough to handle having her in my home? To my knowledge, she had never been here. Well, I would take a poll with Kevin on that one. And obviously, I would ask Charlie.

I came to the sane but uncomfortable conclusion that it would look odd to exclude them from the evening. Maybe they would have the decency to decline. Or they could host a Sunday brunch without Mother and me and we all could avoid a whole lot of unnecessary awkwardness. Oh, sure. Perhaps I would magically sprout the brass appendages to call Charles himself and inquire what he thought was appropriate. There was a piece of me that giggled over putting Charles and Judith in the hot seat, but the other part of me knew you couldn’t upset people who had no conscience to begin with. In any case, I hoped to have an intimate dinner party for Charlie and Priscilla and that it would be warm enough for our guests to spill out into the garden.

While all these happy plans and details danced across my mind, Helen Sinkler’s pill bottle continued to rattle around the back of my brain. As I understood it, Manny and Helen had been separated for years and there was nothing more between them. I seemed to recall that someone said that she never even spent one night in that gorgeous house.

Then why were her pills there? And next to the bed? No! I would have no part of second-guessing Manny after such a wonderful and intimate visit.

Then I thought, Oh, so what if she had perhaps spent one stupid night there? Maybe Manny wasn’t even in town at the time. Maybe she was house-sitting. I mean, let’s be serious here. Would he be carrying on with me like a wild animal if he was still sexually involved with his wife? Of course not! How low-down would that be? No, it simply couldn’t be true. After all, our first date had been a church supper!

The truth was that I really didn’t want to know the truth.

Manny may not have been the greatest lover, but he was presentable and made me feel good about myself. He was extremely nice, and most of all, he was reasonably smart and fun. I’ll admit that on the plane ride home I had entertained the thought that if Helen was still somewhat in the picture, maybe I could make him forget about her. If I pursued it carefully, something serious might develop between us. Because of him, I no longer saw myself going through the rest of my life alone. Manny had shown me a new vista and that alone was a priceless gift. Perhaps most important, he had made me know I was still plenty desirable.

I knew, or at least I hoped, that Charles and Judith would be shocked to see me on the arm of someone like Manny Sinkler. Manny was about Charles’s age, more handsome than Charles by a landslide, and Manny was, if anything, much more successful. From everything I had seen, Manny Sinkler was worth many millions. It would make Charles twitch.

Manny and I still had not discussed why his marriage fell apart, but I guessed it was for the same reasons that many successful men lose their wives—because their career is their mistress, the one they love the most.
Their office is their true home. Their wives, children, their academic and community accomplishments, all the second and third houses, the expensive cars and vacations, were all lumped into a psychological trophy case behind thick glass in another realm that only rarely included the husband.

Manny was retired and he was probably poised to find a true partner who appreciated all he had accomplished in his career. Not someone who could remind him of every mistake he had made in the last twenty-something years and that he really was not a god. I could actually see myself in Manny’s life permanently. With a little work and some luck, we could be great together. I adored every detail of his house, the property, and the fact that it was just minutes from my mother’s house. And a commitment to Manny would protect me from further thoughts of Harrison. Harrison was too dangerous.

While I was waiting for Kevin to come home, I took a chance that I might reach Charlie and called him. He answered.

“Hi, sweetheart! I just wanted to let you know that I’m back from Sullivans Island and your invitations came in. Charlie, they are just simply regal.”

“Regal, huh? Well, that’s sure to thrill Priscilla. In fact, I’m walking around with our guest list in my back pocket. Want me to drop it off later?”

“That would be so great because we have to get them in the mail
tout de suite
!”

“Well, we’ve already e-mailed everyone anyway—”

“E-mailing wedding invitations? Gadzooks! What’s this world coming to?”

“Mom. Did you really just say
gadzooks
?”

“It’s an undervalued, nonoffensive expletive. Sort of. My father or grandfather used to say it. I think it came from a comic book.”

I giggled and I could hear his surprise at my giggle in his voice.

“Like
egad
? And
golly gee willikers
?”

“Exactly! Well, anyway, there are a few things we need to talk about to get your wedding boat afloat.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I am assuming that Priscilla’s family will be arriving on Friday.”

“Probably. I mean, I’ll check, but I think so.”

“Your grandmother and her man friend are getting here Wednesday, and Dan and his clan are flying in Thursday.”

“What? Miss Josie has a man?”

“It’s hard to say exactly what their relationship is all about, but I just assume…anyway, he’s a great guy and that’s her business. Now, are y’all having a rehearsal? And what about a dinner afterward?”

“No, we didn’t plan anything because the loft is booked Friday night.”

“Well, my thought was that I would like to invite all our out-of-town guests for a buffet supper. If you would like me to, that is. And if we do that, you know, there’s no reason why you can’t have a little impromptu rehearsal right here, say, an hour earlier. Everyone can stay for a bite and a cocktail or two? What do you think?”

“Mom? That is a truly excellent idea! Priscilla and I were just talking about this last night. Our apartment is way too small and we don’t live in the greatest neighborhood, you know. But don’t spend too much money, okay? I mean, I can help with this, too, and I’d like to do that.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. You take care of the wine and liquor and I’ll take care of the food and help. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a deal.”

“I have one more question.”

“Sure.”

“What do we do about your father and Judith? Should we invite them Friday night? And what if he has a guest list for Saturday?”

Silence. Then Charlie said, “I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t include them in anything, but Priscilla’s family might think it was strange.”

I told him about my brunch idea and he burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me? Dad has already declared his position on this. He wouldn’t bring us a bag of sausage biscuits from Burger King!”

“Well, it appears that I am going to have to be the grown-up here. I’ll call him and see what he says.”

“Good luck!”

“Very funny! I’ll see you later! Oh, and Priscilla has hired a caterer, made the arrangements for a cake and the music, right?”

“All done. Her aunt is bringing the cake from Jamaica.”

“Better check with the airlines. They are so particular these days. She might be better off to ship it and ice it here.”

“Good thought.”

“Okay, Kevin’s got the decorations covered and he’s ordering rentals. My job is flowers and the photographer. So don’t worry about centerpieces and flowers for the bar and so forth. You just take care of Priscilla’s bouquet, boutonnieres, and flowers for the wedding party, okay?”

“Whew! We should’ve eloped!”

“And deny me the opportunity to see you get married? No, son. It’s worth every penny.”

Soon I heard the outside door open and knew that Kevin was home. He rapped his knuckles against my door and then rang the bell for good measure.

“Hey! Welcome back! How was your trip?”

“You wouldn’t believe!”

“Let me just take all this stuff upstairs, change into something else, and I’ll be right back.”

Shortly after, we were having a glass of wine and I was retelling the past few days, except for the naked parts.

“They’re all calling me Mellie, Kevin. A crazy combo of Miriam and Elizabeth. What do you think about that? Can I be Mellie?”

“Mellie? Hmm. You know? Of course you can! I think Mellie sounds young and fun and that you can store Miriam away for your old age. Mellie. I like it. But you’re still Petal Puss to me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

I told him about Liz and Mother and elaborated on how they had taken such a shine to each other.

“Liz is already a thousand percent better,” I said. “Mother couldn’t be happier than when she has someone to cluck over…”

“And how
are
the chickens?”

“Vile, as you would expect. But I’m actually a little concerned about Mother.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she’s moving slower and sleeping a lot during the day. It’s just not like her.”

“Well, excuse me, but don’t we have a doctor in the family? Almost two? When she’s here for the wedding, have Charlie look at her.”

“Why didn’t I think of that? You’re brilliant, of course!”

Then, I described the rapturous dance lesson I took with Harrison, begged him to take a few tango lessons with me, and he agreed immediately.

“I adore the tango! Oh, great heavens! The dress! It’s got tango written all over it! I can’t believe I forgot to bring it down to you. Don’t move!”

Minutes later, Kevin unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the dress of my dreams. It was beyond perfect for a wedding, a dance, or to wear as you ascended to heaven through the clouds. It was the
Dancing in the Dark
dress in navy blue.