On This Day (9 page)

I
feel that familiar fluttering within my chest. Palpitations I’m sure. I lie still for a few minutes, waiting to see if they will go away. Finally I sit up and take one of those little pills the doctor prescribed for me. I rinse it down with the lukewarm water sitting on the bedside table and then lie back down and wait.

It’s not easy getting old. Oh, I try my best to make it seem that it’s nothing. I tell my family that everything is fine, and I try to go about life in much the way I always have. When my friends complain about old age, I remind them of the alternative. Not that I’m afraid to die, mind you, but I suppose there is something unsettling about leaving this earthly home, something a bit unnerving about exiting the body I’ve inhabited for all these years. And yet this body is fading and deteriorating. I see it more and more each
day. A bit more stiffness in my back when I bend down, catching my breath as I go up the front porch steps.

Well, at least I’m still continent. Not like my dear friend Betty. She has to wear those granny diapers. That’s what she calls them. One day she ran out and asked her daughter Geneva to pick some up for her on her way home from work. Well, if you know Geneva, you know she hates having to purchase anything of a personal nature. Betty told me that Geneva’s husband called her on her cell phone while she was at the drugstore. He asked what she’d stopped for, and in a lowered voice she told him, “Depends.” Of course, he didn’t understand what she meant. “Depends on what?” he kept asking her, clearly confused. Finally she got so exasperated that she told him she was getting her mother “some Depends diapers, for Pete’s sake!” Betty and I still chuckle over that one.

Even so, it’s not easy watching your body slowly give out on you. You remember how it used to be, how you were able to run and go, and how you swore you’d never get old. Why, just last week I stooped to pull a dandelion weed from between the cracks of my footpath and—wham! My back gave the sharpest pain, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t stand upright. Thank goodness, my neighbor Mr. Gillespie was outside getting his mail. “You okay?” he yelled from across the street when he saw me bent over like an oversize pretzel.

“I don’t think so,” I called back. So he came over and helped me waddle into my house, where I lay down on the sofa. Then the good man unearthed my heating pad and gave me some Advil
tablets, and in a couple of hours, other than some stiffness, I was pretty much back to normal. Oh, except I don’t bend over to pull weeds anymore. I’ll get someone else to do that from now on.

I suppose this gradual deterioration of the body is simply God’s gentle reminder that our physical selves are not designed to go on forever and ever. Not that I’d want to live on earth forever. No, thank you very much.

I remember when my Calvin was in the hospital before he passed on. Every day I came to see him. I brought my knitting and my books, and I would get as comfortable as possible right next to his bed. I would give him sips of water and hold his hand, stroke his nearly bald head. But his old body—mainly his heart—was so worn out I could literally see him fading right before my very eyes. The doctor said he wouldn’t be able to do anything surgically until Calvin grew stronger and that would take a week or so, but that turned out to be more time than Calvin had left.

The hospital had been very busy getting all the medical staff on some new sort of computer system, which kept the nurses fairly distracted, and as a result no one called to tell me about my Calvin’s demise. But I awakened about two in the morning with the strongest sense that someone had just tapped me on the shoulder. “Calvin?” I whispered into the dark, turning in the bed to see what he needed. Then I remembered my Calvin wasn’t there, that he was at the hospital. So I turned back over, prayed a little prayer for him, and went to sleep.

As usual, I went to the hospital that morning, my book and
knitting in hand, only to find out that he had indeed passed away during the night. “Around two or three in the morning,” said the head nurse, “as best we can tell.” To this day I am certain it was Calvin tapping my shoulder that night, just letting me know he’d slipped into the next world, assuring me he’d meet me on the other side.

And although I was deeply saddened to lose him, for his sake I was glad. Pushing an old body to keep on going is like staying at a party too long. Best to leave when it’s time.

I glance at the clock and figure I’d better get up and start getting dressed. I know Jeannette wants the family down there for some photographs before the big event. Now, as much as I love Jenny, I just don’t understand why she wants Michael to see her in her wedding gown before the actual wedding. In my day that would be considered bad luck, but I suppose it was just a silly superstition. Still, I think it would be more exciting for Michael to first see Jenny as she comes down the aisle. Seems a sad waste to me.

“It’s so we can go straight to the dinner reception,” she informed me when I mentioned this. “We get to be with our guests and have fun with them. Instead of standing around waiting for the photographer to get all the right shots, we’ll be out there eating and dancing and whooping it up.”

Well, I suppose that does make some sense. And Jenny is a sensible girl. So far, all has gone pretty much as she and her mother planned. Or so Jeannette assured me when she called to check on me just before I took my little nap.

I slowly unzip the garment bag that contains the dress Jenny picked out for me to wear. It’s a soft shade of rose. “Perfect with your complexion,” she told me. And I expect it will go nicely with her mothers darker shade of rose, and then there are the bridesmaids in their pale pink dresses. Leave it to Jenny to coordinate her entire wedding party as well as the relatives for this event.

“I’ve waited forever for my wedding day,” Jenny told me yesterday when she and I had tea together. “I can’t believe it’s almost here.”

“Our only granddaughter getting married,” I said with a trace of sadness. “How quickly you and your brothers and cousins grew up. But I’m so glad that I get to be here to share in this with you.”

“I wish Grandpa was here too.” Her sparkling eyes got a little dimmer.

“He is here in spirit, Jenny. You know that. You were always his favorite.”

She gave me her impish grin. “Yeah, there were some pretty good perks in being the only girl.”

“And Grandpa must be so happy to know that you’re marrying a good Christian man. It’s what he always hoped for.”

“I wouldn’t settle for less.”

“And what about the money, Jenny? Does it intimidate you that his parents are so wealthy?”

She just laughed. “It doesn’t change who I am in the least. I just hope Michael’s mom doesn’t mind that I still like to shop at Target.
Le Target
, that is. I even considered doing a bridal registry
there since they have some pretty cool stuff, but Mom thought that might be pushing things a bit with Catherine.”

I had to chuckle at that. “Might do Mrs. Fairbanks some good to pay Target a visit. Might remind her of how the rest of the world lives.”

“Yeah, right.”

As I slip into my silky dress, I am reminded that my dear Jenny has both her feet planted firmly on the ground. And if she feels like a princess in a fairy-tale wedding for this one special day, well, good for her. Good for her!

E
lizabeth is giving me an impatient look. “I think you’ve had enough, Suzette,” she says in a slightly uppity tone, as if she actually thinks she’s superior to me.

“I don’t happen to agree with you.” I hold up my empty glass and wave to the bartender.

“That’s your
third
drink since we got here,” she says, sounding more and more like my mother, making me wonder why I dragged her along in the first place.

“Who’s counting?” I toss back.

Elizabeth checks the Bud Light clock above the bar, then frowns. “Well, at least have something to eat before you have another one.”

“To
eat?”
I look around this disgusting dive. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

She nods. “You cannot have another drink unless you put something in your stomach first.” She looks over to where the bartender is completely absorbed by some stupid sports show on the tiny television that’s blaring above the bar. “Excuse me, but do you have a menu?”

He saunters over and looks at us as if we dropped in here from Venus. “A menu?” Then he laughs. “Nope. But we got hot dogs and chili and chips …” He scratches his balding head. “And let’s see—

“We’ll take a hot dog and some chili,” she tells him.

I make a face at her. “Are you insane?”

“Or we can just leave right now,” she threatens me.

“Sure, sure,” I say to the bartender. “Bring on the hot dogs and chili.
Let’s parteee!”
This makes him laugh, and I feel as if I’m rather entertaining. “See,” I say to Elizabeth. “Told you there were lots of fish in the sea.”

Elizabeth groans and in a low voice says, “I think that ones been thrown back a few times too many.”

I look over at the bar, where he’s working on something that involves a can of who knows what and a microwave. “Oh, you never know. He may have some deeply hidden qualities.”

“Like what?” She looks as if she’s humoring me now.

“Like maybe he has a few million bucks stashed beneath his mattress.”

She kind of laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s just raking it in with this bustling business of his.” Then she gets more serious. “Is that
the main thing you look for in a man, Suzette? He has to be loaded in order to get your interest?”

I consider this as I play with my empty glass. “It’s not the
only
thing on my list. I’m also somewhat into looks.” I reach for my Prada purse and dig around until I find my silver compact, then open the mirror and take a nice long look. I’m not sure if it’s the lights or just a cruel reality check, but I suddenly look old enough to be my mother. “Oh no!” I say as I snap the compact closed and shove it back into my purse.

“What’s wrong?” asks Elizabeth, alarmed.

“When did I get so old?” I gasp.

“Old?” Elizabeth chuckles. “You’re probably barely pushing forty.”

“Forty?”
I nearly shriek. “You think I look forty? I’m barely thirty-eight, and I can usually pass for thirty.”

“Good for you,” says Elizabeth. “That’s ten years younger than me.”

“You’re
forty-eight?”

She frowns. “Yes, I suppose that sounds ancient to you. But haven’t you heard that age is just a number? You’re as young as you feel—all that bunk.”

“But I
feel
old.”

“There you go.”

“Elizabeth,” I say in earnest, “what if I’m too old to catch a new fish?”

“Huh?” She looks confused.

“Here you go, ladies. Your hot dog and chili.
Bon appétit.”

“Thanks,” says Elizabeth as she pushes the soggy-looking paper plate toward me. “Eat up, Suzette.”

So I poke around, taking a few bites, and to my surprise, it doesn’t taste nearly as bad as it looks. Even so, I feel completely discouraged now. “Is this what my life has come down to?” I finally say, pushing the half-eaten food away. “Suzette Burke, old and pathetic, eating disgusting chili and hot dogs at some greasy tavern along the side of the road?” I feel my voice choking. “Is this what I’ve become?”

“Oh, Suzette,” says Elizabeth, “you’re just being melodramatic.”

“No, Elizabeth,” I say in my most serious tone. “I am being realistic. If I let Jim get away, I could end up like this, alone and poor and … and …” Now I burst into tears.

She reaches across the table and pats my arm. “It’s going to be okay, Suzette. Like you said, there are lots of fish in the sea. And you’re a strong woman, and—”

“I am
not
strong,” I mutter as I wipe my nose on the cheap paper napkin. “And I’m not the least bit independent. I
need
Jim, and I can’t let him get away.” I make a fist. “I have to fight for him. I have to fight for my marriage. This is not over yet.”

Elizabeth shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, I mean it. I have to make it work. I really do need Jim. And whether he knows it or not, he needs me just as much.”

“So you’ll work things out.” Elizabeth looks at her watch
again. “Maybe we should get going. If we leave now, we’ll have almost an hour to get ready for the wedding.”

“The wedding!”
I smack myself in the forehead. “Good grief, I almost forgot about that! And I have to look perfect for this. I have to stand by Jim’s side and make him proud to be with me. I have to make him see it’s me he wants—not some young bimbo secretary. Please, Elizabeth, you’ve got to help me.”

She nods and stands, tosses some money on the table, then reaches for
my
purse.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I ask, confused. “You need more money?”

“No. Your keys.”

“But why?”

Now she puts her face close to mine, looks me right in the eyes, and says, “Do you really need to ask that, Suzette?”

I shrug. “Hey, I don’t care if you drive. Just don’t take it over ninety.”

“Ninety?” She laughs and waves good-bye to the bartender, and suddenly we’re back outside in the glare of sunshine.

I squint and look around the small graveled parking lot that melds right into the asphalt road, trying to remember exactly where we are and how on earth we got here in the first place. “What’s with all these trees?” I ask as we go to the car. “They’re everywhere!”

Elizabeth just laughs. “You know, you really start to grow on a person, Suzette. Now get in the car, and let’s get out of here.”

And get out of here, we do. I swear that woman must think she’s an Indy racer or something. But I keep my mouth shut and just hang on tight as we tear around these mountain curves.

I can tell I’m a little lightheaded from the Cosmos, and I’m actually grateful Elizabeth cut me off when she did and encouraged me to eat something. Because if I’m going to do this thing—if I’m going to save my marriage—I’ll need my wits about me. I glance over at Elizabeth and think she might actually make a pretty good friend. Oh, I know she’s not exactly in my league, but she might be a person I could meet for coffee occasionally—when I need someone to talk to. Sort of a daytime friend.

But at the moment, I need to focus on my own life. I need to figure a way to solve my own problems, and to accomplish this, I must get myself in gear to do whatever it takes to get Jim’s attention back on me. Oh, he may be enjoying a little hanky-panky with that cheap secretary, or whatever she is, but I seriously doubt he’d stick with her in the long run. Somehow I’ve got to make him realize this before the day is over.

Thank goodness I got that new Gucci dress and those sexy Prada shoes for the wedding. I know I look stunning in that outfit. I reach up and touch my hair. I’m sure it’s flying all over the place. Why on earth did I put the top down today? But I should be able to rescue my coiffure without too much difficulty, thanks to Margot, my hairdresser. She swears this cut, color, and style can stand up to anything. It’s my face and my makeup that worry me. I still can’t believe how old I looked in that horrible tavern. Hopefully,
it was simply a case of bad lighting. Anyway, I’ll spend the most time on my face. I really need to look my best tonight, and I need to focus my full effort on being engaging and charming with everyone. I must win them all over. Yes! I think I can do this. I think I’m up to the challenge.

“Here you go,” says Elizabeth as she parks my car at the lodge and hands me the keys. “You want to put the top up?”

“Not right now.” I grab my purse and get out of the car. “If I’m going to save my marriage, I’ve got some work to do.” Then I take off for the lodge without even saying good-bye or thank you or anything. Somehow I think Elizabeth should understand my urgency. Goodness knows, she’s in almost the exact same horrible predicament herself. Poor woman.