Old Ties, page 9
“I have a key. I used to live there, remember? I checked. She’s not there.”
“You should have stayed living there, and then there wouldn’t be this mess,” Alice said under her breath.
“I heard that. Life’s not that simple, and neither are my habits. This is my fault; I understand that, and if I could make it go away I would. If you see her, call me.”
Romaine went around to all the bars, their friends, every place she could think of. By the end of the day she was really worried. The odd thing was the truck. Cleo’s truck was still parked in the driveway. Did she take a bus somewhere? Romaine went to the bus station. Nothing there. Finally she went home with a growing sick feeling in her stomach.
“Romaine, what’s wrong?” Cynthia asked when she got home. Romaine was halfway through a pitcher of martinis. Cynthia knew that she was stress drinker. And Cynthia knew that when it was serious Romaine drank martinis.
“Cleo’s missing.”
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t find her anywhere. She didn’t take her truck or the bus out of town. God, if anything’s happened to her it’s all my fault.”
Cynthia came over and gave her a hug. “We’ll find her.”
Romaine looked at her gratefully and took her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I put you through hell, and you still love me.”
“Of course, and since I love you so much I’ll cut your tits off if you go off and leave me for another woman, Cleo included.”
“I won’t. Believe me I’m done with that.”
* * *
Bobbi McCormick answered the door. It was Cleo. She was dirty, dripping with sweat, and tired.
“Cleo, what are you doing here?”
“I needed a refuge.”
“Sweetheart, come in. Where’s the truck?” Bobbi asked, looking out into the empty drive.
“It’s at home,” Cleo said, taking her boots off.
“How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“You walked.”
“Yep. Had some thinking to do.”
“How long did that take?”
“About three days,” Cleo said matter-of-factly.
“You walked for three days?”
“Yep. Do you have a beer?”
“Yes, of course. So let me get this straight. You walked here.”
“Over the pass and through the hills and down Miller’s Crossing. Now, do you think I could have that beer? Why don’t people walk places anymore?” Cleo said, getting mildly perturbed at the twenty-question quiz.
“Darling, it’s fifty miles.”
“I’m aware of that. I just started walking and thinking and I needed someone to talk to, so I thought I’d come see you.”
“What did she do now?” Bobbi asked, getting herself a glass of wine and sitting down.
“She’s mad at me because I let her down by sleeping with Romaine one last time, accidentally.”
“How do you sleep with someone accidentally?”
“Kind of like we almost accidentally slept together.”
“It wasn’t accidental on my part,” Bobbi said, smiling and taking Cleo’s hand. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I wish you’d come back. Aren’t you through being angry with us?”
“I’m almost there. I was thinking about coming down for a visit. Now wait a minute. Who is she?”
“What do you mean?”
“The she who’s mad at you for accidentally sleeping with Romaine.”
“Frankie.”
“You mean to tell me that you finally slept with someone other than Romaine? You beast. I wanted that honor,” Bobbi said, picking up the nearest pillow and hitting Cleo with it repeatedly.
“We haven’t slept together,” Cleo cried out.
“You’re not lovers?”
“We were, working in that direction until the accident.”
“Oh, I get it now. She doesn’t trust you.”
“Exactly. She thought that maybe I was using her to get back at Romaine, and when Romaine and I slept together, that’s what it looked like. But Cynthia and Romaine are living together. They managed to patch it up.”
“It figures that you’re the one left out in the cold.”
“Pretty much. The other night Frankie and I talked at the bar, and she said she wanted to be friends. I don’t want to be friends. I can’t be like that now. I want to be lovers.”
“Oh my, karma comes to visit. Now you know what it feels like.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But being lovers does ruin things. If Frankie and I hadn’t gotten romantic, we’d still be friends. Now everything’s fucked up.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Stay away. Maybe then she’ll move on, and I can start to forget,” Cleo said, looking down at her hands. It was the best she could come up with. With time they’d both forget. Frankie would find someone else, and Cleo figured she’d move gracefully into old age alone. Love obviously wasn’t her forte.
During the delirium of her walk, Cleo had kept playing scenes from her life with Romaine and then her life with Frankie until everything jostled together. The two women fused to become some monstrous vision of tormented love. All squeezed and twisted, the good things about love were no longer visible. What Cleo hated most was hurting Frankie the same way Romaine had always hurt her, as if the cycle couldn’t be broken. Cleo had become another version of Romaine, making women fall in love with her only to torment them by committing infidelities.
“Cleo! How can you say that!” Bobbi interjected, snapping Cleo back from her wandering.
“Very easily, you just go like this with your lips,” Cleo said, moving her lips mouthing the words.
Bobbi came over and beat her silly with the pillow until she screamed out for mercy. Bobbi kissed her cheek.
“No offense Cleo, but you stink,” Bobbi said, getting off her and pushing her in the direction of the bathroom.
* * *
Cynthia was making coffee when the thought struck her. “Romaine, have you tried Bobbi’s? Maybe she went there.”
Romaine grabbed her Rolodex. “God, I bet you’re right.”
“What, didn’t she leave a note?” Bobbi asked when Romaine had her on the line.
“Bobbi, come on. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” Romaine asked.
“It’s not your heart we’re talking about. Besides it’s not me I’m concerned with. I can’t believe after all this time that you’re still fucking up Cleo’s life.”
“So she’s there?”
“Yes, she’s sleeping right now.”
“How is she?”
“She’s okay, considering how she got here. Tired and hungry.”
“Did you come pick her up?”
“No, she walked here.”
“Oh my.”
“I’d say she was pretty distraught, wouldn’t you?”
“Can I come get her?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Romaine asked, exasperated.
“Romaine, why is it that when you live with her you treat her like shit, and when you’re away you behave decently, almost with a certain tenderness? Why is that?”
“Because I’m psychotic. I don’t know. I’m trying to improve, believe it or not.”
“I don’t. You fucked up her one chance at happiness. She’s given up on Frankie, and I know she won’t try again. This is on you, Romaine. It’s your fault. So don’t tell me you’re changing. I’ll bring her home when she’s ready.”
Romaine slammed the receiver down. Cynthia looked up from her proofs.
“Fucking bitch!” Romaine said. She hated when other people were right. When was she going to stop fucking up Cleo’s life? It wasn’t like she could go talk to Frankie, who wouldn’t speak to her anyway, and say, Do you think you could go get Cleo, fall madly in love, and take care of her the rest of your days so I don’t have to feel guilty for mucking things up. All this chaos over one last roll in the hay. Why were people such sticklers for details?
It was a minor indiscretion and they’d been doing it their whole lives. Why should it make such a difference now? When she thought about it though, casually sleeping together had been the usual beginning to getting back together. It would happen once and then Romaine would start to crave Cleo again, like any addict, and it would start happening more frequently until whoever Romaine was dating figured it out.
“Is she there?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“She’s not coming back for a while.”
“What about Frankie?”
“She’ll probably give up and leave town, and it’s all my fault,” Romaine said, holding her head.
“This, is not good,” Cynthia said, coming over and taking Romaine’s hand.
Romaine looked up. “Will you promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“If I ever leave you, shoot me so I can’t hurt another living being.”
“Do you remember that Agatha Christie novel Murder on the Orient Express?”
“Yes.”
“I think that’s what we’ll do. Maybe Frankie will stay around for a while. We’ll figure something out.”
“God, I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Twenty
“Earth calling Frankie,” Alice said.
Frankie was staring out the window. She wished she could talk to Cleo, make things better. She should have been more like Cynthia and forgiven the transgression, figured it as part of their bizarre relationship. She didn’t want to lose Cleo, but she felt that with each passing moment she was getting farther and farther away.
“Frankie, when you come back around would you do me a favor?”
“Huh? Oh I’m sorry, Alice. What?”
“Could you go out and pick some veggies? We seem to have lost our gardener.”
“Sure,” Frankie said, still preoccupied.
She got the wheelbarrow going and went about picking things. The garden was dry and parched looking; leaves were drooping everywhere. It wasn’t until she picked up a squash and it fell apart in her hands, leaving her standing with rotten squash guts everywhere, that it hit her. The garden was dying. Cleo loved her plants, and she was letting them die. This was awful, and Frankie was as much to blame as Romaine for hurting her. Frankie burst into tears. She couldn’t bear it. Frankie ran from the garden to her motorcycle and roared out of town.
Alice saw her go. “Christ, what now!”
Romaine strolled in looking confused. “Where’s she going in such a hurry?”
“Who knows? Since Cleo’s disappeared, I need help, so I sent her out to pick some produce. Then all of a sudden she charges off,” Alice said, putting her hands on her hips, pursing her fuchsia lips and glaring at Romaine.
Curious, Romaine went out back to look at the garden. Alice followed her.
“What happened?” Romaine asked. “It looks like shit.”
“Cleo’s not been here to take care of it.”
“Someone should water it at least.”
“Listen, I’ve got a restaurant to run. My gardener’s gone off, and now I’ve lost the wait staff. It seems to me that you’re the responsible party. You started all this. You fix it,” Alice said, tromping back to the kitchen.
Romaine watched her go. She’s right, Romaine thought. She picked up the hose and set about watering the garden. Strange, she had never set foot in the garden before. It was always Cleo’s domain. Romaine had only watched her drawing up plans each season, carefully calculating germination, seedlings, present and future growth, spending hours of toil, getting tanned and strong, doing something intrinsically vital to the restaurant. Romaine had hardly given it a thought. I really am a selfish and self-centered woman.
She was filthy and tired when she got home. And sad, terribly sad, because she knew she squandered too many things, and there was no going back. There was no undoing all the hurt.
Cynthia ran her a bath and tried to make the pain in her lover’s eyes lessen. But she, too, knew that Romaine’s suffering was the only way she would get better, be better. Without it she would continue to wreck lives, her own included.
* * *
The sun was just rising across the water as Frankie sat on the shore. She always had gone there when her life was starting to suck. She went there every day when she was losing Electra, and that love affair seemed minuscule compared to this one. Frankie had never hurt so much in her whole life as she did now. She felt as if she were ready to crack open and leave little pieces of herself all over. When it was done, she’d spend the rest of her life trying to gather them up again. She didn’t know what to do. She sat there listening to waves crash against the shore.
Finally tired and hungry, she went in search of food and a place to stay. It seemed strange to be back in San Francisco. She wasn’t sure how she ended up here. She had kept riding, and then she remembered the ocean. She had to go see it.
She went to R and J’s Coffee Shack. Frankie was reading the paper and having breakfast when she spotted her own nemesis. Women and restaurants. She was going to have to steer clear of both of them. Frankie slithered down in her chair, hoping to get out without being noticed. Electra was the one person on the entire planet she did not want to see. Frankie got up quietly and walked toward the cash register.
From across the room she heard, “Isn’t that your old girlfriend?”
Electra turned around. “Frankie! How are you?”
Frankie took a deep breath and cursed herself for being so stupid. Electra loved this dive and frequented it. Frankie should have known better than to come here.
“You look like shit, darling. What’s wrong? Where have you been keeping yourself?” Electra asked.
“Out of town. I just got in this morning,” Frankie replied, looking at Electra and wondering how it was that she had ever fallen in love with such a woman. Garish came to mind. Electra had dyed her hair red and wore a considerable amount of makeup. She was pretty, but she seemed far from what Frankie viewed as desirable. Of course, now she found only one woman desirable.
“Where are you staying?” Electra asked, twirling her around and taking a good look at her.
Frankie squirmed under the inspection.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“It’s decided then. You can stay with Cecil and me. We’re over on Fidelity Lane, number four.”
“Is Cecil your girlfriend?”
“Oh no, honey. I only date.”
“That’s right. No home-on-the-range scene.”
“You got it, darling. You still look good,” Electra said, making her eyebrows quiver.
Frankie smiled weakly.
“Here, why don’t you take the key, go have a nap and a bath, and we’ll hook up this afternoon. It’ll do you good.”
“Electra, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Frankie replied, thinking it horrid to be revisiting circles she was trying desperately to break free from. Suddenly she felt like she was inside a Slinky.
“You don’t have a choice. It’s the least I can do after all we’ve been through.” She thrust the key at Frankie and made ready to pout if she didn’t take it.
Frankie took the key. She rode across town, thankful it was a sunny day. It was harder to be depressed. Women. They’re perfectly awful. They get you to do anything. Must we all end up with people we once slept with? Can we ever break free from the past? Or is life just one endless snare after another? Next I’ll be friends with Romaine, having dinner on Saturday nights, playing golf Sunday mornings. It’s sick, yet we crave it. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You had an entire country to roam, and you came here.
She climbed the four flights of stairs to the alcove apartment in an old Victorian house painted lavender, of all colors. The apartment was relatively neat for Electra. Must be the roommate, Frankie thought, knowing Electra was a pig. Frankie took off her clothes and showered.
When she came out wrapped in a towel, she discovered she was not alone. She stood in the middle of the floor, dripping slightly, to meet the roommate, Cecil.
“Hi, I thought it was Electra. I’m Cecil,” the young blond woman said, extending her hand.
“I’m Frankie. I’m a friend of Electra’s.”
“More like ex-wife.”
“Well, yeah.”
“So are you guys hooking up again or what?”
“Oh, no,” Frankie said, with such conviction that they both laughed nervously.
“She did ya in, huh,” Cecil said, cracking open a beer and propping her feet up on the coffee table.
“To say the least. I know we just met, but would you happen to have a T-shirt I could borrow? I came on short notice.”
“Sure. Let me get you one,” Cecil said She returned with a black Pride T-shirt.
Frankie finished dressing, feeling more human now that she was fed and clean. Amazing things, those basic necessities.
“You want a beer?” Cecil asked.
“Please,” Frankie said.
“So where’d ya come from?”
“Southern Utah.”
“What the hell were you doing there?”
“Visiting my aunt.”
“Are you back to stay?” Cecil asked, handing her a beer.
“I don’t know.”
“God, you’re as bad as that whimsical roommate of mine.”
“I’m not even close, believe me.”
Cecil chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
“I am.”
“So you got a girlfriend?”
Frankie swallowed hard. “Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”
“It’s okay. I’m working on it. I’ll survive,” Frankie said, knowing she was lying. It helped being away. In Moroni, the whole town reminded her of Cleo. Here all she saw was the city with an occasional glimpse of Electra, which she skated past with ease. Electra had simply evaporated from her mind and her heart the day she met Cleo. Love, the goddess of mutability. Plug a new love in, and the pain of the old love went away. She knew that Cleo wouldn’t be easy to forget, but one can survive lost love. Cleo had been doing it forever. But Cleo always knew Romaine was coming back. It wasn’t the same for Cleo and Frankie.
