Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (18 page)

“I don’t know where to start.” Artie opened a beer. “Everything is such a mess.”

“Where are you?”

“At some motel near Davida’s house . . . Don’t bother checking it out with Triple A. Just watch
Psycho
.”

“Oh my God. Move the dresser against the door. Where’s Aaron?”

“With the girl.”

“Did you meet her? What’s she like? Is she really pregnant? Is she keeping it? Do I have to learn how to knit?”

“Stop. Yes I met her.”

“And?”

“And she’s a lot older than him. Like maybe twenty-one or twenty-two.”

“That’s sick. He’s just a baby. Can we have her arrested?”

“Give me a chance, okay? She seems nice for someone with a ring in her tongue, and there must have been a sale on tattoos

’cause she’s got a lot of ’em. Also, not sure what color you’d call her hair. Rainbow, maybe? No wait, that’s her name.”

“Her name is Rainbow?” Mindy gasped. “Does that mean she’s . . . multi-cultural?”

“Oh yes. A real combo plate. Part Native American, part black, even part Jewish.”

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“Really? Part Jewish?”

“That’s what she said. Her mom’s second husband owned a bagel shop.”

“Ah-ha. Yes. That would make her a member of the tribe.”

Mindy laughed. “So what does she look like?”

“Actually, she’s beautiful. Also big like bull. . . . She towers over Aaron, but then she’s got this squeaky little voice that sounds like Stevie Nicks sucking the air out of a balloon. Go figure that she’d be the lead vocalist in a band; that’s how they met. Aaron was jamming with them one night.”

“Okay, but what’s the deal? Is she pregnant? Is he the father?

Is she keeping it?”

“Yes, she’s pregnant and I have no idea about the rest. They went somewhere to talk.”

“Well, how is handling it? Is he happy? Sad? Did he start singing?”

“I’ll tell you this. He wasn’t shocked, which means if it is his, and she does go through with it, he’s going to fight me on coming back to New York.”

“Any chance he’s not the father?”

“Funny you should ask. She did mention this guy John twice, so who knows? Maybe she was trying to drop a hint.”

“Okay, well let’s pray, ’cause I’m still in shock that Aaron is now our responsibility. Could you imagine Rainbow and the baby, too? And what would they name it? Broken Rubber—would you stop it already?” Mindy yanked Jamie’s arm to get her to stop chasing Ricky. “I’m not kidding. Leave him alone.”

“He called me a doody ball.” Jamie shook free.

“Richard Arthur Sherman! Do I have to tell Daddy you’re using your garbage mouth?

“Oh and get this.” Artie ignored the shenanigans. “Davida’s dad is ninety-two years old and living in a nursing home in Florida, and when they told him that both Wayne and Davida Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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were dead, he was like good, let ’em burn in hell, those no-good bums.”

“He’s probably senile.”

“Actually, he sounded more with it than
my
dad. Anyway, they’re both being cremated tomorrow and the old man told the funeral director to save money and put ’em in the same urn.”

“Ew? ”

“Yeah. But too late to worry about them. I’m more concerned with Aaron. He goes from being totally together to sounding like a three-year-old . . . do we know any good SAT tutors?”

“Not off hand. But everyone we know with kids in high school has one on speed dial. ”

“Well start getting names because he never took them. He just thought he’d play in his band and get a big record deal, so who cared about college? Meanwhile, it looks like he may have to repeat his junior year because he was absent so much and missed a lot of work and tests.”

“
Oy-yoy-yoy.
Okay, tomorrow I’ll call the district and find out what we have to do . . . but to be honest, it still hasn’t registered that he’s coming to live with us. I just wish we had a bigger house.”

“Trust me, compared to the way he’s been living, our place will feel like Hugh Hefner’s mansion, and Wayne’s house wasn’t any better. No food in the fridge, only three cases of beer, and these big bags of cat food in the garage. I was in this lady’s office over at family services and started bawling. All I could think about was that my son was leading this god-awful existence and I didn’t know. . . . I wasn’t there for him—”

“Artie, you can’t blame yourself. You tried for years to be a part of his life and they shut you out. At least now he’s all yours.”

“I know,” he sniffed. “I know. Thank God.”

“So have you talked to him about coming back with you?”

“Not really. I was waiting to see how the whole Rainbow thing 154

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went down, but I have to say. This is one beautiful city. You look out and see Mount Hood and the Columbia River and all these trendy restaurants and shops. This is a happening place!”

“We are not moving to Portland.”

“I know. I’m just saying . . . We could have a real decent quality of life here. The air is clean, the schools are great, and everything is so much cheaper than on Long Island. I almost fell over when I saw Davida’s electric bill. She was paying for two months what we pay for a day and you know how much I always liked the Trailblazers.”

“We are not moving to Portland.”

“Fine. I get it . . . but listen to this. Remember I used to talk about my friend Andy Levinger from optometry school?”

“No.”

“Yes, you do. He was the guy who taught me how to ski, remember? I used to go with him on weekends to his parent’s house in the Adirondacks. I could never figure out how he was like this fearless warrior on the slopes and such a pussycat with the rest of his life. Anyway, you’re never going to believe this, but I saw his name on a billboard this morning. Looks like he moved out here, probably for the skiing, and now he’s got a bunch of offices.

I just called and left a message. Sounds like he’s doing great. You never know if he needs help.”

“Artie, have you lost your mind? We can not move to Portland. We have family here, friends, a business . . . Look I have to go now. The pocketbook ladies are at the door. I’ll call you when it’s over—wait . . . Find out if the women in Portland have these stupid parties. If they don’t, maybe I’ll think about it.”

Next door, another conversation was taking place between spouses in Long Island and Portland, but it was of a much louder, angrier nature. Beth had returned home to find that just as Mindy had warned, she was minus both a husband and a house-Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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keeper. Her two daughters remained, of course, and though they were relieved to see their mother, they circled warily. She had hurt them terribly, leaving them fearful of their future.

Jessica was especially traumatized, since this possible split was coming at a most inconvenient time. Her bat mitzvah, the single most important event of her life, was scheduled for Thanksgiving weekend, a mere eight months away.

She had dreamed forever about her gala Saturday-night black-tie party, racking her brains to come up with ideas that would make it so much nicer than Melanie Lipsky’s, who thought her reception was amazing because she had a band
and
a DJ, and the kids didn’t have to eat chicken fingers. They had their choice of Chateaubriand and pecan-crusted sea bass, just like the adults.

Jessica would do better! She’d have the most awesome sushi bar and desserts from Serendipity. Plus, she already knew the dresses she would have designed (one for her service, one for her cocktail hour, one for her party); the invitations she wanted (no purple hearts and flowers); and the kids she’d invite versus the ones who had better pray to be on her guest list.

But now if her stupid parents were splitting, it would not only ruin her big day, but her whole life, just like her friends whose parents had gotten divorced. In fact, Amanda Kreiger’s parents were fighting so bad, her mom supposedly took a piece of little Bella’s dog doody and put it in her husband’s chopped meat for dinner. “He gives me shit, I give it right back!”

But Jessica’s parents weren’t like that. They still loved each other, they just liked to yell. And even if they didn’t still love each other, they loved
her
enough not to want to ruin her once in a lifetime bat mitzvah, right?

Unfortunately, from the muff led shouting coming from her mom’s room, maybe Stacie had been right about them splitting.

“He told me he wasn’t going to be there, okay?” Beth yelled.

“He was just going to give me the keys and the directions.”

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“What am I? Stupid? ’Cause it’s a real believable story. A guy you meet at a bar says, yeah sure, here’s the keys to my house in the Hamptons. Have a nice day.”

“What do you want me to say? That was the deal. I told him I was in a bad place right now and the last thing I needed was to complicate my life even further by getting involved.”

“Really. A beautiful, married woman runs off and needs a place to stay, and he’s like, that’s cool. Help yourself to what’s in the fridge.”

“That’s right.”

“So then why did he dump you at a train station like you were garbage? Wasn’t such a nice guy anymore, I guess.”

“He got weird on me, okay? He turned out to be a big liar like you. I made him drive me back. We didn’t have sex. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Beth. Why even bother pretending we’re trying to work things out? We’ve both been miserable for years and obviously you’ve already moved on or you wouldn’t have done anything this stupid. The girls were scared to death. You have no idea what went on here after you ran off.

Total hysteria.”

“Richard, stop! I am very sorry. How many times do I have to say it? I know it was a horrible thing to do, but you screw up all the time and I’m supposed to look the other way.”

“And here it comes . . . Let’s get even time! Happy now?”

“No, of course not, and trust me, if I really wanted revenge, I’ve had plenty of opportunities before this. Ask your good friend Marty. He hits on me constantly. And why is it so hard for you to understand I just needed time to think? I don’t know who I am or what I want anymore. . . . I’m always angry, I’m sick over the fact that the girls hate me so much . . . and believe me, you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me, too. All you ever do is complain that I’m this ungrateful bitch who spends money we Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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don’t have, but I’m not the one who wanted to join the club, and I’m not the one who sabotaged their career by pissing off management and—”

“Are you done, Beth? Because I can save us both a lot of time and trouble . . . I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean ‘leaving’? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere now. I’m staying in Portland.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s best this way. We’ll be out of each other’s hair.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“And you accuse me of being an actor! You know exactly what I’m saying. . . . I want a trial separation.”

“A separation? I don’t believe this! Why do you get to leave? I should be the one who bails.”

“That’s for the lawyers to work out.”

“The lawyers? Oh my God, Richard! Why are you being such an asshole? You have nothing on me other than one brief instance of questionable judgment, which compared to the shit you’ve pulled was a joke: the calls from Connecticut when you were really in Vegas, the money you took from my dad to invest in the market, then blew on that piece of shit Jaguar. Oh, and let’s not forget your little indiscretion at the office. That was awesome taking money from our IRAs and paying those huge penalties so we could bribe your little friend before she filed a sexual ha-rassment lawsuit. Well here’s a news story for you! Guess who is building that huge waterfront house over on Halyard? A woman divorce attorney. Can’t wait to invite her over for coffee.”

“I don’t get it. You’ve done nothing but bitch for years that you’re miserable. Now I’m giving you an out and you’re pissed?”

“I’m pissed that you’re so out of touch with reality that you think you can run away and everything is going to magically get better. Get help, Richard! How long have I been begging you?

Ten years? Eleven? Even your bosses back then were on your 158

Saralee Rosenberg

case, remember? David and Sam came to the house with the list of the top shrinks at Bellevue and told you to take a leave of absence with full pay? And what did you do? You threatened to sue their asses if they ever mentioned it again.”

“They weren’t trying to help me and you know it!” Richard shot back. “They were only trying to trap me into saying I needed counseling so they could legally fire me.”

“I didn’t believe that then, and I don’t believe it now. But it’s a prime example of how you rationalize everything, how you delude—”

“I’m not rationalizing anything. I admit I’ve screwed up, okay?

But don’t bullshit me either. You lost interest in us years ago.

Why shouldn’t I start over and take a job here?”

“Because it would be one hell of a commute. I thought you went out there to pitch a new piece of business.”

“I did. But two of the top guys here have been talking to me for months about joining the team, and this morning we shook on a deal.”

“Really, this has been going on for months and you never mentioned a word. I’m sorry. I don’t believe you. I think it’s just another one of your bullshit stories.”

“Fine. Don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth. They offered me a senior VP position for a new digital media division and it’s a great opportunity. The money isn’t amazing, but in a year or two with all the stock options and profit sharing, I’ll be rolling in it. Not to mention you know I always liked the people here, their business philosophy—”

“Oh my God. Would you listen to yourself? Their business philosophy? Wait until they find out that yours is taking three-hour liquid lunches, cheating on your expense reports, and blaming all your subordinates for screwing up.”

“I knew you were too selfish to be happy for me.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you want me to be happy for you? You Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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fucking accepted a job all the way across the country without even discussing it with me!”

“What was there to discuss? You’ll never leave New York and I want to start over. Besides, I’ve always loved it out West.”

“That’s not the point, asshole! You don’t go and make a huge life-changing decision like this and spring it on me after it’s a done deal. What do you plan to tell the girls? Sorry, love you guys, but I’d rather be close to great skiing?”

“No. I’ll tell them that if they want to, they can come out here with me.”

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better! You’re going to jump into a whole new career while taking complete responsibility for raising them? I’m not sure if you noticed, but they’re a little old for day care! And wait until I’m not around to cover up for all your lies and nonsense and they realize their dad is a fuckup who can’t even give you the time without distorting the truth. Oh, and there’s one other small matter that apparently slipped your mind. . . . Jessica’s bat mitzvah is in less than a year.

I do hope you can still make it!”

“Of course I’ll make it. I’m leaving you, not her!”

Fourteen

As pocketbook parties went, it was a decent turnout, particularly after Karen’s cousin arrived with several friends from Dix Hills, the blinding-diamond capital of the world. They alone could make her night, yet as Mindy looked around, she saw more talking than shopping.

Not good. Karen needed to move the merchandise or face David’s I-told-you-so speech. She’d been so sure that the ladies would go crazy over the selection, especially the red, quilted Chanel bag with the chain handle that, according to
New York
magazine was a favorite of those hungry-looking Olsen twins.

But thus far, she had sold only two, and one was to Mildred Mayer, who kept asking about her return policy in the event her twelve-year-old granddaughter complained that the bag looked too fake to bring to school.

Frankly, Mindy could never understand why women who thought nothing of dropping big bucks for Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton would bother with the knockoffs. “They all say the same thing,” Karen informed her. “I’m only buying this as a gift. Then I run into them at Bagel Boss and they’re wearing it.

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Who doesn’t love a bargain?” Everyone does, of course, but not nearly as much as they love gabbing.

The ladies in skinny jeans sipped diet Coke while discussing breast implants, kitchen cabinets, the kids who got waitlisted at Brown, and the friend who lost twenty pounds on Weight Watch-ers thanks to the recipe for chocolate-cinnamon quesadillas.

All seemingly harmless chitchat, until topic A turned to local gossip, which at the moment centered around the rumored split between power couple Beth and Richard Diamond. Everyone had an opinion.

The marriage was a match made in hell. Richard had a good shot if he sued for joint custody, and in a unanimous vote, the women expressed disappointment that the once-sweet Jessica had morphed into her mother, right down to her unapologetic ambition and inherent sense of entitlement.

Given Mindy and Beth’s history of conf licts, no one would ever expect to hear Mindy defend her, particularly since she had proven to be such a reliable source (yes, there’s another Dumpster in front of the house, no, Richard did not buy that Harley, he’s just test-driving it).

Now, as an insider, she saw things differently. The spread of gossip was viral, contaminating what would otherwise have been a sterile gathering. Yet rather than making people sick, it only masked the infectious belief that they were morally superior.

The irony was not lost on Mindy that at this very moment, Stacie was upstairs finishing a book report on the late Margaret Mead. She wondered what the famed anthropologist would have concluded had she immersed herself in the world of the upscale suburban mom, as she had done in a village of Samoan women back in the 1920s.

In their native habitats (a middle-class upbringing)
,
these women
appear to have normal behavior patterns that include conformity and
good manners. But once they marry well and trade up to five-thousand-162

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square-foot houses
,
it can lead to major attitudinal changes insofar as
self-importance and superiority
,
particularly if their husbands receive a
Wall Street bonus.

This attitudinal change may last until the husband leaves the wife for
a younger woman
,
or a younger man
,
or until the couple retires to Boca
while still supporting their children. Though this is associated with stress
and confusion resulting in a need for anti-anxiety pills
,
as long as the
woman gets to keep the Mercedes and the co-op in New York
,
in time she
will recover
,
particularly if her ex drops dead
.

“Well, last summer we were out on Fire Island and bumped into Richard with this girl who he said was his assistant, but she sure wasn’t using her hands to type.”

Mindy moved closer. This little powwow she had to hear.

“Can you blame him? Beth is so mean to him. We used to go out with them all the time but we couldn’t take her anymore. This one time we were having dinner at a great little place in SoHo and she started yelling at him because the poor guy wanted to order dessert. It was disgusting.”

“Oh, I know, she’s insane with the whole sugar thing. Emma once came over to play with Ali and I gave them leftover birthday cake for a snack, and the next day Beth is yelling at me,

‘Why would you feed them junk before dinner? What’s wrong with fresh fruit?’”

“Well remember when she circulated that stupid petition trying to ban cupcakes from class parties? Oh, and no more bake sales either. Wasn’t she ever a kid?”

“No wonder she likes Marsha Majors. I heard she makes her kids keep a food journal, then checks it every night to make sure they’re not pigging out. Like they’re really gonna tell the truth!”

“Wait. Speaking of petitions, wasn’t she the one who wanted to remove books from the school library because they promoted Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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sexual promiscuity? Then everyone found out she was having an affair with the principal?”

“No!” they all replied. “That was Marjorie Young!”

After Karen finally packed up and left, Mindy looked at the mess in the kitchen and said screw it until morning. After the day she’d had, she was entitled to take a hot shower, climb into bed with a big bowl of Lucky Charms, and watch last night’s
American Idol
on Tivo.

But just as she armed the alarm, she spotted a tall figure with a fast gait approaching the back door. Please be a burglar, she thought.

“Sorry to bother you.” Beth coughed. “You must be exhausted.”

“Comatose is more like it.” She yawned for effect, but stared at Beth as if she was catching a rare glimpse of a lunar eclipse.

She looked so homely without hair and makeup, and dare Mindy say, old?

“I can’t believe how much happened today,” Beth fidgeted, looking over Mindy’s shoulder to see if any of her kids were still up.

“Yup.”
Please make this short
.
I’m so tired and I want my Lucky
Charms.

“Could we talk?”

Crap! What if the windows in the den were open and she’ d heard
everything?
“Sure.”

What little time Beth had spent in this kitchen, her routine was to wipe the crumbs off the chairs and check for food on the f loor. Tonight, however, out of respect, she refrained from making faces. “So how was it? Did she have nice stuff?”

“I guess, but I’m probably not the best judge. I don’t pay enough attention to the real bags to know if the fakes are any good.”