Cheapskate in Love (25 page)

When they saw Helen, they knew she had been crying, despite
the sunglasses she wore to conceal her eyes. Sandra immediately became kinder
and more compassionate, while Joan became madder and more volatile, although
she repressed what she wanted to say. Sandra quickly got a menu and a drink for
Helen, advised her about the best dishes, and filled the air with a constant
stream of small talk. She soon succeeded in her intention of distracting Helen
from what had happened and putting her at ease; a wealthy socialite like Sandra
has well-developed skills for saying a lot of very little in trying
circumstances. Although Joan contributed some short remarks to Sandra’s
rambling monologue, her temper was building. She was fidgeting in her seat more
and more, dissatisfied with avoiding the topic that was on all of their minds.

For a while, Helen remained quiet, responding to Sandra’s
chatter, when she had to, with a monosyllable or a few words. Helen was
grateful for Sandra’s consideration in steering the conversation to neutral
topics and allowing her space to recover from her severe disappointment with
Bill. But she could see that Joan was making a great effort to restrain
herself, which was probably harder for her to do than endless talking was for
Sandra. Helen decided that she had to act like an adult and tell them what had
happened and own up to her mistake. Sitting up tall in her chair, she waved
aside Sandra’s objections that it was too soon to relive the experience. Helen
said she wasn’t going to be upset again. Briefly, she told them what Bill had
said after she asked him, according to their plan, to go sunbathing. Sandra and
Joan listened closely, only exclaiming softly in surprise a few times during
the recital. At the end, Helen told them, “Now, say whatever you like. You were
right about him, and I was wrong.”

“I have nothing to say, really” lied Sandra. “Bill made a
big mistake, and he’s best forgotten. That’s the end to that.” With a glint in
her eye, she looked hard at Joan and nudged her under the table, prompting her
to say something likewise bland and conclusive.

After taking a deep breath, Joan tried to comply. “There’s
no need to talk about it. It’s all in the past. Friends help friends move
forward.” She sounded like an actress reading lines that were written in a
foreign language.

“We’re here to cheer you up,” added Sandra quickly, “not
make you feel worse.” Although she wanted to erase the impression of
insincerity that Joan had given, her fast, forced, happy message only made the
situation more intolerable for Helen. To her, both appeared to be acting
deceitfully and treating her like a pouting child, and she burst out in
annoyance.

“The truth will not make me feel worse. You were right. He’s
a jerk.” She took off her sunglasses. She was no longer in danger of spilling
tears.

“I agree,” jumped in Joan with gusto. “Jerk.
A total jerk.
A crass, class-A-certified
jerk.
A jerk like no other.
Whatever you
saw...”

“Joan,” interrupted Sandra severely, with a grave
look
on her face.

“She said it,” returned Joan, feeling free at last to speak
her mind. “She called him a jerk first. Not me. I’m just supporting her. But
someone needed to say it. He is what he is, and no one can change that. There’s
a whole list of names he qualifies for. And none of them are nice.”

“Helen,” said Sandra, giving up on Joan, but trying to mend
the conversation by giving it some balance. “I never quite understood what you
saw in him, but I believe you saw something real.”

“A real dumbbell, you mean,” replied Helen.

“Go, girl. I’m on your side,” Joan sang out, although Sandra
glared at her most unpleasantly.

“No, I think you saw some good qualities,” Sandra said to
Helen, “a basis for a relationship, someone you wanted to know better.”

“Wait,” interrupted Joan. “Are we still talking about Bill
the jerk? I’m confused.”

Sandra ignored Joan’s impertinence and told Helen, “You were
right to try. You had to. You thought there was some hope of starting a
relationship. What you did would have worked, if he was ready to have one.”

“It was a mistake,” replied Helen. She felt ashamed as she
remembered how she had acted that morning, trying to be attractive to Bill. She
shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake out the memory.

“A
big
mistake,”
blurted out Joan, quickly clamping her mouth with her hand. “Whoops! My
subconscious is breaking loose.”

“You mean your consciousness,” remarked Sandra with some
asperity. Although she was displeased with Joan for criticizing Bill and Helen,
contrary to their prior discussion, she wasn’t angry. She had known Joan a long
time and knew her character was irrepressible, once she latched onto an idea.
To Helen, Sandra said, “No, it was not a mistake. How can you know anyone
better without trying? Without taking a risk?”

“But there were signs,” complained Helen.

Joan nodded emphatically up and down, then just as strongly
back and forth when she became aware of Sandra’s unfriendly look at her.

“He was always avoiding me,” Helen continued. “He would lie.
He wouldn’t appreciate what I would do.”

“That’s all in the past,” said Sandra. “We aren’t going to
mention him anymore. You always deserved someone better, and we’re going to
find that lucky man. We’re in new territory now. Joan can tell you all about
it. She’s had a busy morning.”

“Yes, I have,” said Joan, feeling another surge of
excitement from all of the attention she’d received. “This is prime
pickin
’ territory, a marvelous place for a lovely girl like
me. And you. And even Sandy, although she’s been pretending she’s not
interested.”

“I’m worried my husband will find out,” said Sandra.

“Now look who’s acting as if they belong in a rocker,
knitting,” observed Joan. “He’ll believe whatever you tell him. Men are
gullible. You could say that you’re thinking about becoming an actress. Tell
him you were role playing here to see how much you liked it.”

Sandra laughed. “That’s a good excuse. I’ll say our daughter
inspired me.” The idea of Sandra acting because of her daughter’s influence
made all three women laugh. To Helen and Joan, Sandra never seemed to be the
type of person who was swayed to do something by someone else. To Sandra, the
person who was least likely to persuade her to walk out on a stage, something
which
had never crossed her mind before as a desirable
activity, was her daughter.

When their laughter had subsided, Joan said to Helen, “Now,
let’s get started on your new life. I shall be your personal guide and perform
all introductions on a complimentary basis. No gratuity asked for, or expected.
See that man over there?” Joan pointed to a
well-dressed
,
handsome man in his fifties, who was sitting at a table about twenty-five feet
away with two other men.

Helen looked in that direction and locked glances with the
man, before turning away.

“He’s been looking at you, since you got here,” said Joan.
“He’s a good-looking dish, isn’t he? I almost wish I wasn’t tied down already.
I would fight you for him.”

“He must be married,” replied Helen.

“I’ll be right back,” announced Joan. She quickly stood up
and sashayed over to the man, who watched her advance toward him, intrigued. On
her way, she waved flirtatiously to other men, who had introduced themselves to
her earlier. When she arrived at the man’s table, she placed her hands on his
shoulders and whispered in his ears. They exchanged a few words.

“What’s she doing?” Helen asked Sandra in amazement and
unease.

“Trying to help you,” Sandra responded.

“I feel like I’m back in high school.”

“High school wasn’t such a bad time,” said Sandra. “There
are worse things, you know, like what happened this morning. Or did you forget
about that already?”

“I don’t need to be reminded.”

“OK, not another word, ever,” promised Sandra. “Here’s
something for you.” On the table in front of Helen, she placed a stack of ten
business cards, which she and Joan had been given that morning by hopeful
admirers.

Helen quickly flipped through the cards and saw impressive
titles at well-known companies. “Where did you get these?” she asked.

“You’re not the only one who can choke men up,” replied
Sandra. “The men were swarming around the table this morning. Joan was doing
more to draw them here than I was, but a few flew at me, too. If that man over
there doesn’t work out, we’ll make some calls and come back here, or go to
other popular spots, until you catch something you like.”

“Maybe Bill has been good for something,” said Helen.

“That’s the last time you’ll ever say his name again,”
Sandra told her. “The last time
ever
.”

Joan returned then with the handsome man in tow. Pointing
first to Helen, then to Sandra, she introduced the man to them, “Helen, Sandy,
meet my new friend, Tom. He’s
single
.”
When she pronounced that last word, she smiled significantly, raising her
eyebrows at Helen.

Tom was not the bashful sort. He had a confident way with
women, like that of a skilled womanizer. In addition to his polished manner, he
had a seemingly solid character that made almost any woman, whom he showed an
interest in, feel, within a short period of time, that she could trust and
depend upon him. That’s how his two previous wives had felt, when they married
him.

With a warm, manly voice, he asked the three women, “Ladies,
can I join you? I can’t think of a better way to spend this morning. I was
practically falling asleep with my buddies over there. They aren’t that
exciting or good-looking. You are the best looking bunch here, and
..
.” He gazed at Helen with his liquid blue eyes. They were
the
deep
blue of the Aegean Sea that sparkles at the
base of cliffs. “If your friends will let me say so, you are the most beautiful
of all.”

Helen blushed a shade of crimson in embarrassment, like a
lobster being cooked. She turned her head away, not knowing how to respond to
such flattery.

Sandra was ready to make up for Helen’s loss of words.
“Sure, Tom, you can say that. We don’t mind. If you have any more compliments
for her, just keep them coming.”

“She’s single, too,” Joan added, jubilantly. “Just like you.
What a wonderful coincidence, don’t you think?”

From embarrassment and shame, Helen wanted to slide under
the table and crawl away, but she stayed, and soon she joined in the
conversation with Tom, who was an easy, interesting talker. Although she didn’t
say as much as Sandra or Joan, she began to be pleased with how the day had
turned out.

Chapter 27

It was a journey of approximately five miles for Bill from
the church to his apartment. In his poor state of fitness, such a distance was
a long one, a very long one. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked
so far. In addition to the length, the way was mostly along multiple-lane
roads, without much shade, and it was a warm, cloudless day. He had only gone a
mile before he was dripping with perspiration and panting. Conveniently
forgetting the part he had played, he vowed never to talk to Helen again, who
had put him in such misery.

The shortest route would not take him past Donna’s hair salon,
but when he came to the locale in which her business was, he suddenly decided
to make a detour. He wanted to revisit the place where so many happy memories,
foreshadowing great future happiness, had happened yesterday. Walking at a slow
pace, wet with sweat, he was slightly hunched over from exertion and dragging
his feet. Finally, he reached the storefront, which he had been so reluctant to
enter the day before. He didn’t think about his past fear in entering that
building, though. He only thought of Donna. Smiling with pleasant memories of
how good she looked, he put his hands on the plate glass window and peered in.
Although he saw the shop was closed, he hoped to glimpse a ghost of her and be
gratified with that pale resemblance. But no, the salon was deserted. He stood
awhile leaning against the glass, panting. When he had caught his breath and
felt able to continue walking, a wave of euphoria came over him, as he
remembered the upcoming date with Donna. In anticipation, he kissed the window
lovingly, as if it were
her
.

Pedestrians going in and out of restaurants along the street
stared at him, as he stood by the salon’s window, making a strange display of
himself. Some of the people thought that urban blight was taking root in their
idyllic suburban town, and something had to be done. Oblivious to them all and
their criticisms, Bill turned from the salon window, smiling, and proceeded on
his way with a lighter step.

Back home, after showering and gorging on bologna and cheese
sandwiches to replenish all the calories his trek had burned, he was still
elated by his visit to the empty hair salon and the train of thoughts it had
triggered. He had such an emotional high that there was only one sensible thing
to do: Swing dance. As the tunes of big-band dance music filled his apartment,
he jittered and jived, dipped and
spinned
.