Summer Roommates, page 14
Now, it was early evening. Mary glanced in the mirror that hung over her dresser. She looked presentable enough, she decided, for the evening to come. She would be having dinner with Sandra and her daughter, Kate, who had arrived the day before for a short visit. The other houseguests were unavailable to join them.
Supposedly, Patty was helping her boss take inventory. Mary assumed that Patty was getting paid for her efforts. At least, she hoped that Patty wasn’t being taken advantage of; Patty struck her as the sort of person an unscrupulous boss might easily dupe. There wasn’t really a way for her to ask Patty if she was being compensated for the extra hours without sounding like she was prying. After all, she hardly knew Patty Porter. It was not her responsibility to teach Patty how to get the respect a good employee deserved from her employer. But if Patty did come to her seeking advice, Mary would be more than pleased to give it.
Amanda had gone off to see one of those big summer action flicks with robots for heroes and lots of gadgets to help the heroes kill the bad guys, who also might be robots or maybe distorted figures from someone’s mythology, or perhaps comic book figures in skintight rubber costumes that exaggerated body parts in truly disgusting ways. In short, not the sort of movie Mary could tolerate. What had Amanda said was the title? Whatever the title, the movie was part four or five or six in a franchise that was, presumably, making certain people in Hollywood very rich.
Mary had offered to leave mother and daughter alone together that evening, but both had insisted she join them for dinner, and Mary had accepted the invitation. Now, she joined the Penningtons in the kitchen. Sandra had made chicken piccata, a dish Mary hadn’t had in years. There was broccoli from one of the local farms and bread from the local bakery. Mary contributed a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc she knew her host liked.
Kate Pennington was what Mary’s mother used to call a smart cookie, though Mrs. Fraser had always used the expression with a note of criticism in her tone. Mary, however, saw nothing to criticize in Sandra’s daughter. Kate was intelligent and straightforward, and, if some of her comments could occasionally be sharp, other comments proved that her heart was in the right place.
Mother and daughter didn’t look much alike in terms of physical characteristics like overall build, shape of face, hair and eye color, but Mary could see evidence of a genetic link in the way they used their hands when speaking, how they crossed their legs, the manner in which they tilted their heads when listening to another person speak.
Once the three women were seated at the kitchen table, Mary and Kate chatted briefly about their life in law, and while Mary was indeed grateful for the conversation, she had no intention of mentioning the lawsuit that had been filed against her firm. It was still too painful a topic for her to discuss. But it was good to talk, however briefly, to another person who shared to some extent the thrills and the pressures of a career in the law.
Eventually, as might be expected, talk turned to the subject of Sandra’s summer roommate experiment.
“I have to admit,” Kate told Mary, “I wasn’t keen on Mom’s idea of using this place as a sort of bed-and-breakfast for the summer. I was worried it would be too much work and stress for her.” She turned then to her mother and smiled. “But I’m glad to have been proved wrong. At least, I think I have been.”
“I can’t speak for Sandra, of course, but I think we have a pleasant household here.” Mary laughed. “Maybe we generally get along because we know we won’t be stuck together under one roof forever. Whatever the case, we’re compatible enough. And we’re not in one another’s pockets all day. We go off and do our own thing. Well, that’s my take. So, Sandra, what do you think about this little community?”
Sandra nodded. “I think this is a pretty peaceful house at the moment. And I still think the idea of adults, whatever their age, sharing a household, is a strong and a viable idea that might solve a lot of problems surrounding the aging population and their right to live comfortably.”
“And affordably,” Mary added. “It’s all well and good that people are living longer than ever before but not so great if the cost of living prevents having quality of life.”
Kate nodded. “Hear, hear. I think lots of people are realizing that the ultimate goal isn’t necessarily to be entirely independent but, rather, to be interdependent.”
“Easier to accomplish when in an established relationship.” Mary stopped to think a moment before adding: “Unless, of course, one member of the relationship assumes from the start that the other member is the one who should do the caregiving.”
“Mostly, that’s been men,” Kate noted, “at least, in a heterosexual union.”
“Or self-centered people,” Sandra noted. “And there are plenty of women who fall into that category, too. Or a partner who’s a good deal older than the other partner. Then, the assumption of who will be caretaker is at least understandable, maybe even reasonable.”
After that, the conversation turned to less fraught topics. The state of Sandra’s garden. The most recent hilarious rant of one of the late-night talk show hosts. The artist who had designed and crafted Mary’s necklace. Suddenly, for no particular reason, Mary glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and was astonished to see that it was already nine thirty.
“Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll leave you two alone now,” she said, getting up from her chair. “Let me just bring the rest of the dishes to the sink.”
Sandra refused her offer, thanked her again for the wine, and shooed her housemate up to her room. As she prepared for bed, Mary reflected on how pleased she was to have spent the evening with Sandra and Kate Pennington. Companionship, particularly of the uncomplicated kind, and conversation when it was among similarly intelligent people, were both necessary for a healthy life.
Sometimes, Mary thought, both could be very hard to find.
Chapter 35
Patty sat on the edge of the bed in her room at Sandra’s house, her hands tightly clasped.
She had patched things up with Amanda after the curry incident. Really, there had been no need for her to run from the kitchen; she hadn’t felt that ill, just a bit queasy. And she had remembered how Mary had apologized for complaining about Patty’s perfume giving her a headache. Together, Mary and Patty had admitted that living with other people took some social skills that neither of them had ever had the opportunity to hone.
But social skills had nothing to with the trouble Patty was in now. That morning she had discovered that there wasn’t enough money in her checking account to pay the next week’s rent. It wasn’t the first time in her life she had made a mistake when trying to balance her checkbook or read her bank statements. She doubted that it would be the last.
Patty sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have bought more minutes on her phone until her paycheck had been deposited and had cleared. Maybe she shouldn’t have spent twenty-five dollars on that T-shirt she didn’t need. She already owned two pink T-shirts!
This was the second big mistake she had made in as many weeks, missing a rent payment after attempting to feed Clovis food that might make him ill. Her sisters were right. She was a stupid woman. Maybe they had never actually said so, but they certainly had implied as much.
Memories suddenly surfaced, uncomfortable memories of times in her life when men, boyfriends, had helped her out, given her money for expenses she hadn’t counted on, or for items she wanted but couldn’t otherwise afford. She didn’t recall ever feeling uncomfortable about the transactions. Mostly, she had just felt grateful.
She could, she supposed, ask Bridget for a short-term loan. Teri would say no outright; she was always claiming near-poverty even when she and Kevin were spending money on a fancy new microwave they didn’t really need. But Bridget might agree, though to ask would be humiliating and no doubt bring with it yet another lecture from her older sister about responsibility.
No, Patty decided. She would deal with this situation on her own. There was nothing to do but to tell Sandra, and the sooner the better. And she would hope and pray that Sandra didn’t tell her daughter about the rent being late. Something about Kate frightened Patty. She didn’t have her mother’s softness.
Patty found Sandra in the living room. She was reading a book. Patty was struck as she always was by Sandra’s air of maturity. She was always so calm and collected. Patty was pretty sure nobody had ever considered her calm and collected. Patty Porter was a lot of things, but calm and collected she had never been.
“Sandra?” she ventured. “I have to speak with you.”
Sandra smiled and nodded.
“My rent is going to be late this week,” Patty said in a rush. “I’m very sorry. I made a mistake when I was doing my checkbook and . . . I’m sorry. I swear I’ll pay you the moment I get my next paycheck from the gift shop.”
Patty literally held her breath while she waited for Sandra to say something. Sandra’s expression—almost passive—hadn’t changed at all, and somehow that was worse than if her face had made it clear what she was thinking or feeling. After what seemed like an endless moment, Sandra spoke.
“Thank you for telling me in advance,” she said. “I appreciate that. When, exactly, do you expect your next paycheck? So that I can make a note in my own accounts.”
Patty literally breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I get paid again next Tuesday. I know what it says in the contract I signed, and I’m so very sorry for causing trouble. I—”
“Patty,” Sandra interrupted, “it’s all right. I know you’ll pay what you owe as soon as possible. We all make mistakes or miscalculations from time to time.”
Patty struggled not to cry. “Thank you. Do you think that we could keep this from the others?” She meant, most especially, that her failure might be kept from Kate.
Sandra nodded. “Of course. It’s nobody’s business but our own.”
“Thank you,” Patty breathed. “Thank you.”
She left the living room hurriedly. She was deeply relieved that Sandra hadn’t scolded her or worse, told her to leave, as she had the right to do as the owner of the house. Patty also felt embarrassed. And stupid. She needed to get out of the house and to be alone with her shame.
Patty wasn’t a great fan of walking but she found herself heading off in the direction of downtown Yorktide. The sun was strong and she regretted not having worn a hat, but she couldn’t bear to go back into the house. Not just yet.
As Patty trod along, down to the end of Spruce Street, and then onto Pine Street, she reviewed her life since she had retired from full-time work in mid-level administrative roles. She had been a sales assistant in a stationery shop as well as in a clothing store, a lunchtime waitress at a diner, and, for a very brief time, she had been paid, under the table, to sit with an elderly woman while her daughter went to work. There had been a few times when Patty hadn’t told her family about a particular job so that she could spend the money she earned as she liked, without having to listen to Bridget and Teri reminding her to put a few dollars in her savings account rather than waste money on a frivolous purchase. Patty had known—she had always known—that she was being childish, but, somehow, she could never seem to stop carelessly spending her money. She needed pretty things and new things. Her belongings, collectibles, clothing, jewelry, all of these made her happy.
But things don’t pay the rent, do they? That could be Bridget or Teri speaking.
No, things didn’t pay the rent. Money did. But was it good to live without pretty things or little pleasures? Didn’t everyone have a right to the not-strictly-necessary? Patty had already had to relinquish so many small luxuries—professional hair coloring, manicures, massages—luxuries that had helped to define her in the world.
It wasn’t fair! No, it wasn’t, but that was life. Did anyone really care about her and the sacrifices she had been forced to make? Did her sisters secretly rejoice that the beautiful, celebrated Patty was now beholden to them?
Please, Patty prayed, let that not be true. She had never set out to hurt anyone in her entire life! If she had hurt anyone inadvertently then she was truly sorry and would make up for it if she could.
A car whizzed by, and Patty let out a cry. She had been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t even heard the car approaching. She felt close to tears. Suddenly, the fact that she had not been one of Sandra’s first choices as a summer guest seemed monumental, an ugly reminder that Patty Porter was always a bridesmaid—or a mistress—and never a bride. Patty Porter was always second best.
The sun continued to beat down. Patty felt sticky and teary. She was sweating. Girls don’t sweat, her father used to say. They glow. Patty pulled the bottom of her shirt away from her body. She was not glowing. She was sweating.
Abruptly, she turned around and began to walk back to the house. Sandra’s house. It was the only place she had to go.
And she really wished she had taken her car.
Not her car. Her sister’s husband’s car.
Chapter 36
Amanda found Sandra and Mary in the kitchen having coffee together.
Kate, Sandra’s daughter, had gone home. Amanda was glad of this. She had felt uncomfortable around Kate. Once or twice she had caught Kate studying her—Amanda didn’t think it had been her imagination—and it had made her feel both annoyed and vaguely embarrassed. She didn’t know if Kate was a criminal lawyer—she hadn’t bothered to ask—but she knew she would hate to face cross-questioning under that penetrating stare.
Still, it had been nice to see how well Sandra and Kate got along. Not every mother and adult daughter enjoyed each other’s company. Her relationship to her own mother was close enough, Amanda thought, but they had never been friends as well as family. Maybe that was regrettable but it was too late now to change the relationship. Probably too late.
“There’s fresh coffee in the pot,” Sandra told her. “Help yourself.”
“I’m good, but thanks. I was wondering if it would it be okay for me to do a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table in the living room?” she asked. “I brought a puzzle with me without thinking about the possibility that there’d be no place for me to lay it out. The coffee table seems the right size.”
“Sure,” Sandra said. “That would be fine. The table is rarely used. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I had anyone in for a sit-around-the-living-room visit. But I have to point out that Clovis might interfere. At the very least he’ll be curious. You might find yourself chasing chewed up bits of cardboard.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Amanda said with a smile. “And thanks.”
“May I participate?” Mary asked. “Or do you like to do a puzzle on your own?”
“I don’t know, really,” Amanda admitted, joining the others at the table. “I’ve never done a puzzle with anyone else. When I was a kid my mother and I used to work on separate puzzles, side by side. I don’t remember us helping each other. It was a bit of a contest, actually, who could finish first. But sure, why not do this puzzle as a team?”
“It’ll be a first for the both of us,” Mary said. “I haven’t worked a jigsaw puzzle since I was a kid, and it was always alone. I was pretty good, too. I wonder why it’s never occurred to me to get back into doing them.”
“We can cover the puzzle at night so Clovis can’t have a go at it,” Amanda suggested.
Sandra smiled. “Though he’ll probably try. Cats are compelled to open closed doors and uncover anything that’s covered.”
“What’s going on?” It was Patty, standing in the doorway.
“We’re going to do a jigsaw puzzle,” Mary said. “Want to join in?”
“Sure,” Patty said, taking the fourth seat at the table.
“I forgot to ask, did Kate get home all right?” Mary asked Sandra.
“Yes, thanks, she did. She’s only been gone a day, but I already miss her.”
“Did you experience empty-nest syndrome when your kids went off the college?” Amanda asked. “Were you depressed or, I don’t know, did you feel at sixes and sevens?”
Sandra took another sip of her coffee before speaking. “I’d say that John was hit hard by Kate’s leaving for college. Jack had gone off a few years before that, and John seemed hardly to blink an eye. Maybe it was a daddy and daughter thing; John and Kate were always very close. I suppose I felt a greater sense of sadness when Jack left home. He was my firstborn; we were alone with each other for three years before my daughter was born. Still, the experience wasn’t crippling. And John and I had each other. I’ve heard that a fair number of couples break up when the kids leave for good. They realize they’d been staying together for the sake of the family, that they’d fallen out of love along the way. But John and I had always remained very close, so we were okay when the children left.”
“My experience is of a mother who couldn’t let go,” Amanda told the others. “When I left home for college—and mind you, I was only two hours away—my mother called every single day to ask if I was eating properly—of course I wasn’t—and dressing appropriately for the weather and getting to bed at a reasonable hour. It drove me nuts, and after a while I stopped taking her calls. Not all of them, but I cut it down to once every two or three days. It finally dawned on me that it wasn’t so much that my mother didn’t trust me to behave like an adult, but that she was worried she hadn’t properly prepared me to be on my own. Those calls weren’t really about me as much as they were about her feeling that maybe she’d failed. She needed me to prove to her that she had succeeded in raising a child capable of being independent. Once I figured out what was happening, I had more patience with her.”
“Did you ever confront her with what you’d surmised about her calls?” Sandra asked.
Amanda laughed. “Gosh, no! She would have totally denied having had any sense of failure. And maybe that’s not what was prompting her incessant phone calls. Maybe she really didn’t think I had it in me to survive without her. Maybe she just didn’t have faith in me. Which would be odd, really, as I was always a pretty independent person. There was no way she couldn’t have known that.”
