Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (13 page)

They peered over their sunglasses to check the status. Blond lady with the shimmery gold caftan, aka Project Facelift, was now occupying the same chair as Stan, laughing at his jokes, which they knew could not possibly be that funny.

“Sorry.” Mindy sighed. “This is beyond my scope of expertise.”

“Maybe we can find out her cabin number and kill her in her sleep tonight.”

“Love it! If we add murder one to our list of problems, we can kiss those monthly mortgage payments good-bye!”

Mindy and Artie were thrilled by how well their kids had gotten along on the cruise and wondered if by some miracle they had reached that enviable stage where they could travel as a family and enjoy the experience, rather than threaten to sell the kids off to the highest bidder. But alas, once they boarded the plane for the trip home, it was as if that magic spell had been broken.

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Even before takeoff they were already fighting about whose turn it was to sit by the window and who was the moron/stupid/

loser who threw chewed gum in the snack bag. But at least they were getting along better than Stan and Rhoda, who were not speaking at all, forcing the family to be U.N. interpreters.
Anyone
on this flight speak bullshit?

“Tell your father his slippers are in the blue carry-on, not that I give a damn if he’s comfortable or not.”

“Tell your grandmother if it’s not too much trouble, she can lower her goddamn shade.”

If only there hadn’t been a mix-up at the spa with the time Rhoda was supposed to begin her day of beauty. That left her the hour to kill (almost literally) and a chance to search for Stan, who was by then cavorting with the “bimbo from Boca,”

a wealthy widow whom they’d met the night before at the Cole Porter Revue.

Rhoda sensed she had eyes for Stan, but never expected to find them sharing a deck chair and a drink. “Imagine my embarrassment. My humiliation. My husband of forty years carrying on with another woman like teenagers in the back of a Buick!”

she cried.

Immediately she began dropping hints about which of their marital assets she expected to get in the divorce settlement, yet to the family’s surprise, Stan tuned her out. There were no pleas for forgiveness on bended knee, no rushing to buy pearl earrings.

In fact, his first reaction was to mention his plans for calling an old army buddy in Lake Worth to see about coming down for a weekend of golf.

“How far is that from Boca?” Artie asked Mindy at thirty thousand feet.

“Half hour tops.”

“Great! No wonder I’m having chest pains again.

“Would you stop joking about that? That actually happened Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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in one of my favorite books. Remember
Claire Voyant
? This old man had a fatal heart attack right on the plane?”

“Really?” Artie sighed. “Were his parents splitting, too?”

Unlike an astronaut returning from a successful mission, Mindy did not have an easy reentry. Everywhere she looked around the house, there were piles of clothes and shoes that she hadn’t had time to pick up before they left, prompting her to ask (bellow), did anyone other than her know how to bend at the waist?

Didn’t think so! She might as well leave it for later and listen to their messages. Big surprise. Most were from Nadine.

“Was it great?. Did Rhoda behave? Are you dark? I’m so jealous. . . .

Call me the second you land. . . .”

Though Mindy was grateful for their years of friendship, she had been happy to have the reprieve from Nadine’s incessant chatter through voice mail, instant messages, and text messages.

And what could she really say about the cruise? That it was memorable, but for all the wrong reasons? That they came home with more problems than when they left? Unfortunately, if she didn’t return Nadine’s call, how could she check her e-mail?

Once she signed on, everyone on her buddy list would know that she was back. But good news. According to Nadine’s away message, she and Peter were out for the evening, which meant that Mindy could use the Internet in peace. Only to log on and find a snippy e-mail from Beth in Aruba.

Richard came. We’re talking. Do you know a good real estate appraiser?

Oh and thanks to my car accident my face is a mess and I can’t sit in the
sun. Best vacation ever
.
NOT!!!!

An appraiser? Were they planning to refinance or put the house on the market? Did that mean they were already thinking divorce? Shouldn’t they subject themselves to a torturous round of marriage counseling first? And, oh God. What if her in-laws planned this fast a split, too? Would it mean they’d sell 110

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the house in Great Neck and Mindy would get stuck having to make Passover every year? Out of necessity she’d agreed to make it this year because they were redoing their kitchen f loors, but if this was a permanent change, she’d cry, because it was such a time-consuming, expensive holiday to host. And God forbid Dana would ever offer, not that the family had any interest in a hormone-free, macrobiotic Seder that compared the Jews’

exodus from Egypt with rising sea levels due to greenhouse gas emissions.

They had only been home twenty-four hours when Mindy recounted all the things she’d lost on board the cruise. Her room key, her cruise card (twice), her sense of humor, and, by day six, her mind. What she did not lose was weight.

If only bathroom scales were programmed to forgive and forget the mounds of food and desserts consumed, or that ships from sovereign nations automatically disregarded the overindulging, releasing the extra cargo to the wind before disembarkment.

She tried to remember which of the thousands of calories she’d digested had been worth this guilt-ridden moment when she not only had to face the startling, near-pregnancy weight, but the painful discovery that even her fat jeans were snug.

“How bad is it?” Artie asked, though he dared not peek at the scale.

“Awful . . . Even my watch is tight. What about you?”

“Not terrible. A few pounds . . . I’ll do extra time on the tread-mill this week.”

“I hate men. I diet for a month and lose thirty days. You spend an extra ten minutes working out and the scale moves. But face it. We’re both too fat. By next Halloween we can go as Shrek and Fiona.”

“I know. I just can’t fight that battle on top of all the others right now.”

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“Fine, but let’s at least agree to lay off the Chinese and Italian for a while.”

“Why? What did they ever do to us?”

“You know what I’m saying.”

“Okay, okay. But Aaron’s whole world is about to unravel.

How could we send him home on an empty stomach? Did you see how much he finally ate? I just wished I could have gone back with him.”

“You’ll go out to visit as soon as you can.”

“I should have gone with him now. I’m his dad.”

“There was no way you could have. Besides, Wayne will be there for him.”

“I know. I’m just nervous about him going back to the house for the first time and then finding out about his girlfriend. He’s going to need a mature, stable adult to guide him.”

“Do we know any?” Mindy sighed. Nothing hurt Artie worse than thinking he might be letting one of his kids down. “How about being grateful that God made sure he was with family when he found out his mom died? Plus, now he knows how much we all care about him.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t go crazy and do something stupid.”

“Artie, give him time to deal. He’s very together for someone who’s been through so much. I think he’ll be okay.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s just . . . I already miss him.”

“Me, too. And I loved how he looked out for the kids right away like a real big brother.”

“It was great . . . and did you know Jamie lent him her iPod for the flight home?”

“Sweet! I just hope he’s a fan of Hilary Duff and
High School
Musical.
”

Artie laughed. These were the times he felt like Tevye the milkman on a bittersweet journey. First came the joy of getting 112

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to know his son, then the sorrow of having to see him go too soon. And was it necessary for God to make his financial burdens so heavy? If only he could have said, screw work. I’m going with my son.

“Mom!” Stacie yelled. “Jamie took my retainer and said it’s hers, but I think she left hers on the cruise.”

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I can’t take this anymore.”

“And the bee-ach just called. She’s coming over.”

Beth was coming over now? But it was so late.

“I left something here last week.” Beth marched in without waiting for an invitation.

“Okay.” Mindy followed her into the den, sorry she was wearing baggy sweats. Then again, Beth thought she was a sight for sore eyes no matter what she wore. “How did the vacation work out?” It felt strange trying to make chitchat.

“We got through it.” She looked under the couch. “Did you guys have fun?”

“It was great, yeah. Really memorable. . . . What did you lose?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I must have misplaced it somewhere else. Oh, screw it! The truth is,” she hesitated, “I didn’t lose anything. I came over to talk to you. I was afraid to call from the house because my girls might hear, and I sure as hell am never e-mailing you again. I needed to let you know I can’t drive this week.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but just remember how many times I helped you out.”

“I have no problem helping you; it’s just that I’m working three days this week.”

“What about Nadine or your mom?”

“Nadine’s son has his big music audition at Indiana and they’re f lying out tomorrow, and my mom is still in Florida.”

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“Artie?”

“It’s going to be so crazy at the store . . . where are you going anyway?”

“I’m taking a leave of absence.”

“Isn’t that for teachers who go out on maternity?”

“Look. You obviously know things are not great at my house.

I just need time to think. Did you gain more weight on your trip?”

“Wow. You never give up. Yes, but I’ll spin the wheel and pick a diet. I can lose it the Mediterranean way, the French-don’t-get-fat way, the Jenny way . . .”

“What about just eating sensibly and taking a brisk walk every day . . . and take your girls with you.”

“Beth, oh my God. You are so mean.”

“No, I’m honest . . . and believe me, I know how they’ll suffer if they have to spend their teen years hiding under baggy clothes.

The world is a cruel place.”

“It’s a cruel place because people like you think they have the right to judge.”

“I don’t judge. I sympathize. I was fat all through high school.

Bubba Beth they called me.” She blew out her cheeks.

“No way.”

“If I hadn’t burned the pictures, I could have proved it to you.”

“Well you’d never know it.”

“Because I work at it constantly . . . and trust me, I could out eat even you. So before you go pay good money to one of those diet places, at least try my way.”

“Your way. The Beth diet.”

“Yes. Couldn’t be more simple. Don’t confuse a fork with a shovel, eat real food not chemistry experiments from a box, drink a gallon of water every day, eat only things you enjoy but in small portions, eat every meal on a salad plate, don’t ever eat while walking, driving, or standing over a sink, and get out there 114

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and walk every single day. I promise you’ll never be fat again.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. It’s the rest of life that’s a bitch!”

Mindy hesitated. This was the most personal they’d ever been.

“What are you and Richard going to do now?”

“Not sure . . . I’m on my way to a friend’s house in the Hamptons to think things out.”

“With that man in the Mercedes?” she guessed.

Beth looked away, red as the peppers on her list of approved foods.

Ten

Taking the kids to see the Ringling Brothers Circus was a cherished family tradition, and though every year there was great anticipation to see the latest death-defying stunts, Mindy still thought the best act was watching the plate spinners jump from pole to pole. How carefully they choreographed their steps, knowing one slight miscalculation would cause the delicate balancing act to reel out of control. Just like life. One ill-timed move could bury you under the rubble of broken hearts. Oh, how she related!

She felt so bad for Artie, who returned to work determined to get a handle on his business problems, only to be met by a pile of bills, an angry customer who wasn’t fitted properly, and two police detectives investigating his manager who had been arrested.

She felt awful for Aaron, who was at the threshold of a new chapter in his life, one fraught with adult problems, but without benefit of a sober adult to guide him. When Artie had called to make sure he’d arrived safely at Wayne’s, Aaron told him that no, Artie couldn’t speak to his uncle because he’d apparently been 116

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on a bender and was passed out on the kitchen f loor, but could he borrow one hundred and forty-three dollars to pay the electric bill so that he could have the lights turned back on?

She felt pity for Beth’s children, who had been left in the precarious position of having to defend their mother’s good name without any understanding of what she was doing, or with whom.

Richard, too, had her sympathy. He had run over early this morning with heartfelt apologies for having gotten them sucked into this craziness, but if they could help him out with the car pool that would be awesome because his ad agency had been pitching a piece of Nike business, and the presentation was this week, and if they could also give him a hand with getting the girls to their after-school activities, dinner was on him.

Mindy felt bad for Stacie, who’d found out that her best friend, Danielle, had been invited to three more bar and bat mitzvahs, making her total twenty to Stacie’s eight. So like any mother who felt her child’s pain, Mindy promised to text Stacie if any invitations had come for her while they were away, but there were none. Correction. There was one, in a big blue box, but it was for Jessica and put in their mail by mistake.