Getting Old Is Criminal (3 page)

Sophie admonishes, “And you missed all the good scenery.”

“And unfortunately
we
missed the last bingo session of the trip,” Evvie says, aiming her annoy-ance at Sophie.

“But we’re covered,” Bella adds gleefully. “The Bingo Dolls are playing for us. We left them money.”

Sophie playfully throws a candy bar at Evvie. “I said I was sorry. I can’t help it if I got sick. I needed to get back to my darling Dr. Friendly.”

I can feel Jack behind me, stiffening. I don’t dare turn to look at him.

Sophie continues, “And he was right there waiting at the hospital for me, bless his heart.”

With a cash register clicking away in his head, I think unkindly. Special run to the hospital. Click.

Overtime. Click. Quick exam. Click. I’m surprised Dr. Friendly didn’t make her stay overnight, like all the other times, and take yet another angiogram and who knows what other expensive tests and procedures. I think he is one step above being a quack, but Sophie worships him so no one is allowed to say a bad word about him.

Bella giggles behind her hands. “Just like dialing nine-one-one. Only more exciting.” She reaches for another jujube.

“One-two-three, he checked me out, gave me a 1 6 • R i t a L a k i n

new prescription, and sent me on home. Now I take Dijoxin.”

Bella adds, “Now she takes ten pills a day.”

“I don’t mind,” Sophie coos. “If my darling Dr.

Friendly—”

But I’m not about to let her off the hook. “I tried calling and never got an answer.”

Sophie looks puzzled for a moment, then bright-ens. “I turned off the ringer so I could sleep.”

Jack’s voice cuts through the levity. I was wondering when he’d reach the point where he’d had enough. “Who sent the fax?”

Everyone looks up at him, bewildered.

“What fax?” Evvie asks.

Jack searches every face, but sees only surprise.

Except for Bella, who suddenly drops her candy box onto Sophie’s lavish pink bedspread.

Oh, no. I see where this is going.

Bella raises a shaky hand. All eyes are on her. “I did.”

“Why?” Jack snaps at her.

Her thin, reedy voice gets even softer. “Because Gladdy always worries if someone doesn’t tell her if someone was sick and someone . . .” Bella stops.

She’s run out of clarity.

Evvie is amazed. “When did you do that?”

“When everyone was packing. I went up to the captain . . .”

Quick-witted, quick-moving Ida is also astonished at such unusual action from our timid friend.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 7

“You went all by yourself to the top deck and found your way back to the cabin by yourself?”

Tiny Bella grins with pride, holding her five-foot-tall frame erect in her chair. “The captain said he’d send a fax for me. I told him what to say and then he picked a cute sailor to take me back.” She blushes. Bella always blushes when she’s the center of attention.

Sophie is all excited. “How sweet. What did you say in the fax?”

Bella stutters. “I . . . I don’t remember.”

Ida snarls, “She never does.”

Jack pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and waves it at Bella. “Let me re-fresh your memory. ‘Come home. Sophie is dying.’ ”

By now I want to crawl away and hide.

The girls respond true to form. I can see it in their faces: Evvie realizing that the fax ruined my romantic getaway. I think she feels bad about that. Or does she? She’s on the fence about my relationship with Jack. Ida is visibly pleased by this new happening—Ms. Man-hater sees Jack complicating our lives. Sophie is delighted at having so much attention. And Bella, well, Bella is a sham-bles.

Me? I just want to get out of there. “Jack, let’s go,” I say timorously.

“Not yet,” he says icily.

1 8 • R i t a L a k i n

And here comes the dreaded question. He asks,

“Bella, how did you know where to send the fax?”

Considering that Jack and I had both agreed not to tell anyone where we were going, there were only two people who could have broken that vow, and Jack knew it hadn’t been him.

Bella, stunned into silence, can’t even look at me.

Evvie sees the trouble I’m in. She makes a pathetic attempt to save me. “Maybe Bella has ESP?”

“I told her,” I confess, needing to let poor Bella off the hook. “I knew she’d worry about me, so I left her a note and warned her not to ever tell anyone.”

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Jack’s face at that moment.

Now I realize how foolish I’d been. I’d thought that someone should know our whereabouts in case of emergencies. But a lawyer perhaps. Not sweet Bella who now feels awful. I shouldn’t have put that responsibility on her.

Without another word, Jack walks out. I rush after him. I can already hear the girls mumbling behind me. I catch up to him at the staircase.

“Wait,” I say.

“What for?” he says angrily.

“What can I say? It was just one of those crazy things that happen.”

“While we’re on this subject of Sophie and her maladies, what was the nine-one-one reference?”

I’d rather not tell him. But I do. “Sometimes Sophie panics and she just picks up the phone and G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 9

dials emergency. Or maybe she wakes up in the middle of the night and feels frightened or lonely and she doesn’t want to wake us. And she needs someone who cares. It happens with many of the women here.”

“And that made Bella giggle? Why? The hospital is across the street. You could walk to it from here! Why nine-one-one?”

“It’s their way to beat the system,” I say. “Over the years one woman tells another, and now they all do it.”

“What?”

“They know if they go to the emergency room, they’ll wait hours until they get attention. This way, dial nine-one-one, the ambulance arrives in minutes; they get a team of three fussing over them, getting their history, giving them oxygen.

Then they are rushed over and get immediate further attention.”

“Which the taxpayer pays for,” he says with disgust.

“I didn’t say I condone it, but they are very good at saving their own lives when the system really doesn’t care.”

“This is no time for a political discussion. I’m exhausted. I’m going home.”

“Jack, wait. What if something happened to you? How would anyone know?”

“Believe me, they’d find a way.”

“You’re walking away because I made a mistake 2 0 • R i t a L a k i n

by telling Bella? I’m sorry our trip got ruined, but we’ll have another chance . . .”

“Do I really need to tell you?” His voice is soft.

He turns and starts down the stairs.

I know what he is thinking. I know how long he waited for us to be alone and how hard he worked to make it special. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond.

I call down after him, not caring whether anyone might be listening. “Please, Jack, stay. Stay with me here.”

He pauses on the bottom step.

“Overnight.” I say it breathlessly, hopefully. I want so desperately to make it up to him.

He looks up at me, sadly. “I don’t think so. Go take care of your ‘girls.’ ”

With that he continues walking. I watch him from the balcony until he turns the corner. He doesn’t look back to see me break into tears.

*

*

*

The last thing I remember is the sound of the lawn sprinklers turning on as I drift off to sleep.

“What if something happened to you?”

“Jack, I’m talking to you. Answer me.”

But all I see is dimness. I can’t find him.

“Jack, where are you?”

The dimness evaporates as if it were fog, and
suddenly I can see him. There he is, lying in the al-ley, bleeding to death. I scream. “Jack, don’t leave
me. Jack!”

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 1

I wake abruptly. It’s the middle of the night. I’ve been dreaming of the first Jack, my husband, who was shot forty years ago. But it’s Jack Langford I’m thinking about now. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him, too.

THREE

OLD ROUTINES

Iwake to a pounding noise coming from outside my apartment. I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the door. Through the screen I see Evvie in a bathing suit, one of her collection of wild Hawaiian designs. Her red hair, now sprinkled with gray, is curly as always from the humidity. She looks so much like our mother with her softer, round body. Unlike tall, angular me, who resembles our father. She carries a matching towel on her arm.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says cheerfully.

I force my bleary eyes to focus. “What time is it?”

“Time to get moving. You missed morning exer-G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 3

cises. I figured jet lag, so we let you sleep. Rise and shine. Get your swimsuit on.”

“Coffee,” I mumble. “Shower.”

“Okay. A quick cup and a quick wash and get on down. See you at the pool.”

I want to go back to bed and not get up again.

Ever. I don’t want to go to the pool. I don’t want to face my girls. Or anyone else. I just want to hide my head in my pillows and sleep. All I can think about is the way Jack looked at me last night as he walked away from me.

As I turn away from Evvie, she calls out to me.

“If you’re not down in fifteen minutes I’m coming to get you. Everyone’s waiting to see you.”

In the kitchen, I grope for my coffeepot. Evvie’s moved down the walkway and is now peering at me through my window. “Glad? It’s a shame your vacation was spoiled. Is Jack all right about coming back early?”

I choke on the lie, but I say, “Yeah, just fine.”

“There’s something I want to talk about with you later today. Seeing how happy you are with Jack has given me an idea.”

Yeah, right. Happy. I manage to nod. “Later.”

But all I’m thinking is, Go away. Leave me to my misery.

*

*

*

As I make my way across the brick path to the pool, I try to compose myself. Of course, when they got home those yentas told everyone I’d left 2 4 • R i t a L a k i n

the cruise ship and gone off with Jack. I mean, I wasn’t with them, so where would I be? The rest of the neighbors will be dying to hear about what Jack and I were up to, but I will go to my death before I tell any of them. How am I going to look my neighbors in the eye? Will they be able to read the failure in my face?

Walking past Denny Ryan’s garden, I hear voices. Our handyman spends as much time as he can in his beloved garden. Today he is talking to his new girlfriend, Yolanda Diaz, called Yolie by all. Since she came to work for Irving Weiss as caretaker to his wife (and our dear friend) Millie, who has Alzheimer’s, we’ve all come to adore her.

As our Denny does. But, what’s this? She’s crying, and Denny in his gentle way is trying to comfort her. Seems like something is bothering her, but she won’t tell him why. A lover’s quarrel so soon? I think sadly, What? Another spat in the Garden of Eden?

I arrive at the pool area quietly to find everyone at their usual pastimes. Tessie is doing laps. My gang are walking back and forth in the shallow end of the water, chatting. Mary is sitting by the side of the pool, crocheting. She seems to have made peace with her husband, John, leaving her. Is that what I have to look forward to? Finding some hobby to take Jack’s place if he doesn’t come back to me?

Meanwhile, the snowbird Canadians who fly down every winter to flee their icy weather are G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 5

sunbathing and reading their hometown newspapers. Enya, our concentration camp survivor, en-grossed in a book, as always, sits off to one side alone. Hy and Lola are holding hands across their adjoining chaises—he, Mr. Pain-in-the-you-know-where, and she, clueless as ever.

The young, secretly gay “cousins,” Barbi and Casey, dressed more casually than when they are at their computer research office, are playing cards, content in the knowledge they are accepted here and the girls and I won’t betray their secret.

As usual, dear Irving is sitting in the shade, whispering gently to immobile Millie. There’s no way to tell whether her Alzheimer’s is any worse, but between Irving and Yolie, she is well cared for.

As for me, I hope not to attract anyone’s attention.

But no such luck! At the sight of me, Hy leaps to his feet and starts a round of applause. Everyone hops to attention and joins in. “Get the goodies,”

he orders Lola. In moments there’s a box of as-sorted
rugallah
opened on one of the round white plastic tables. One of the Canadians opens an ice chest and takes out cold drinks and places them alongside the baked goods. Tessie’s out of the pool and rounding up the napkins, which are instantly made useless by her wet hands.

Just about everyone is surrounding me. Oh, God, I think. Save me. Then they sing out, “ ‘Hail the conquering hero . . .’ ”

2 6 • R i t a L a k i n

Evvie leads me to the food table during the rous-ing cheer. Our neighbors wait breathlessly until I pick a
rugallah.