Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (27 page)

“No problem,” he mumbled. “It’ll be in the forties tonight, but it’s fine if I freeze.”

“I’m sorry. Are you mad at me for something, because I didn’t get the memo?”

“I’m just depressed. . . . I wish my parents hadn’t said anything until they knew it was for sure.”

“I know. It’s driving me crazy, too. Can you lower the TV? I don’t want to wake the kids. . . . Have you noticed they’re sleeping in their beds since Aaron got here?”

Artie channel surfed as Mindy released her stress by talking.

“I felt bad when I had to call Grandma Jenny and tell her I couldn’t make it again . . . although I think she was looking forward to seeing the pizza more than me. But then Aaron—”

“Don’t you think I should have been the one to take him?” he cut her off.

“What?”

“I’m saying, did it ever occur to you that maybe I would have liked to have been the one to take Aaron back to the house? It was my house.”

“Oh my God! You never said one word about taking him there, and it’s not like I planned it. I told you. I saw the sign for Little Neck, then I saw the Denny’s and remembered the house wasn’t far from there. And how did I know there was going to be a Mrs.

Fitzgerald who still lived next door, and would just so happen to come outside for a smoke?”

“I know you didn’t plan it, but you always do that.”

“Always do what?” She sat up.

“You always do things on impulse. You don’t think!”

“Oh, really? Have I ever brought home a kayak from Costco?”

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“I never did that. You dreamed that.”

“Well, whatever . . . You’ve come home with a lot of other stupid things like those pool floats that light up. Ricky practically burned his hand off trying to figure out how they work.

And look, I’m sorry if I stole your thunder, but that was not my intention, and you can’t tell me that it was a bad thing that Aaron got to meet that Jimmy because he was one hell of a walking advertisement for staying in school. You had to see this big, strong guy just lying there like a lump with a missing foot. I thought Aaron might throw up. But at least now he’s got that beautiful quilt to keep.”

“Whatever,” Artie paced again. “I’m just saying . . . This isn’t working out like I hoped. Ever since we got home, he’s not connecting with me like he is with you. You make him laugh, you’re the one he’s with when important things happen, like when he got all those clothes from Beth, and everything I do with him is wrong, like telling him about the life insurance money and having to watch him go bat shit because he thought I was stealing from him.”

“That’s why you’re mad at me? Because you’re jealous? Oh my God! I thought you’d be happy that I’m trying so hard to make him feel okay about being here.”

“I am happy. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve been amazing with him. . . . I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous and pissed off about more things than I can keep track of. . . .”

“Come here.” She motioned him over. “I still have faith that things will work out okay. . . . Meanwhile, let’s enjoy the peace and quiet. When’s the last time we had real privacy?”

The phone rang and they looked at each other. Was this it?

The moment of truth?

“We found it.” Stan said. “Naturally it was in the last box we looked in.”

“Oh my God, they found it!” Artie repeated for Mindy’s sake.

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“Thank you, God!” she clapped.

“Well, don’t get excited yet. There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Artie watched Mindy cover her face with the blanket.

“We called the phone number listed on the policy and it’s been disconnected.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Convertible Life and Mutual.”

“Never heard of it. . . . Sounds more like an auto dealer, but I’ll go online and see if there’s a Web site. Maybe they moved and it’s been so many years, they stopped forwarding the calls.”

“We tried that already.”

“Okay, then tomorrow I’ll call my insurance guy. Maybe he’s heard of them. Maybe they got bought out by another company and are doing business under a new name.”

“Or not at all,” Stan groused. “I don’t know why I ever let your mother handle this.”

“How much was the policy for?” Artie held his breath.

“Fifty thou.”

“Fifty thou would be amazing, Dad. . . . I am not going to give up so easily.”

“Good, because let’s not forget the twenty grand you owe me from investing in the store.”

“Right . . . How could I forget . . . ? Night, Dad . . . Thanks for your help.” He hung up and turned to Mindy. “First thing tomorrow I want you to call Noah.”

“Really? But you hate psychics . . . especially ones who are my old boyfriends. Didn’t you once ask me never to speak to him again?”

“That was before I was in the middle of a meltdown. I can’t take it anymore. Do we get the money? Do we not get the money?

Does my business make it? Is Aaron going to be okay? Are we going to be okay?”

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Mindy had a few questions for Noah, too, but ironically they weren’t about her own life, they were about Beth’s. And how strange was that? Up until now she’d been praying daily for the Bad Luck Fairy to pay her bitchy neighbor a visit. Now it was delete, delete, delete. She would be heartbroken if Beth was single, pregnant, and forty. If only you could pay Noah extra for the good-news package.

Mindy sat next to Noah Blum in homeroom their first day at Forest Hills High. Five minutes before the bell rang, this short, geeky stranger guessed what their teacher would look like. “He’s a tall, thin gay guy carrying a Channel 13 tote bag.” Not that this didn’t describe much of the faculty, but she was amazed when a tall, thin man walked in carrying a Channel 13 shopping bag, as their schedule had listed the teacher’s name as “Unassigned.”

Later, Mindy hunted the boy down in the lunchroom and asked if he could guess what she’d be when she grew up. He said, “Older,” and it was the start of their friendship. They spent hours discussing his psychic premonitions and their mutually lousy karma—coming into this lifetime with bad acne and the nobody-picks-you-for-gym gene.

Then, a starlit night and a bottle of Blue Nun wine brought Mindy and Noah to a new place in their relationship—first base.

Which was immediately followed by second base (her new bra was killing her). Third base was the absolute most fun she’d ever had with another person, and, by then, was so aroused, she whispered in his ear that if he didn’t finish the job, they would never speak again.

“I didn’t see this coming, I swear.” Noah begged forgiveness the next day.

“And you call yourself a psychic?” Mindy teased. “Forget it.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m just glad my first time was with you.”

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the party was over before she left for Buffalo and he Amherst College. They briefly reunited in their senior year, but when Mindy met Artie shortly after, it was no, no, no more Noah.

They tried staying in touch, planning at least one get together a year, but over time Noah became very in demand, as he was on call to the NYPD, the FBI, and legions of celebrity clients in the city who didn’t poop unless he said it was a good time to sit.

And, too, Artie grumbled every time she mentioned his name, for Mr. “I’ve got a secret” hated the idea of someone from Mindy’s past being privy to their future. Only once did he ask if Noah had predicted anything about their life together, and even then was reluctant to hear the answer.

Unfortunately, Mindy knew that Artie was still skeptical of magicians, let alone someone who claimed to have the ability to foresee the future. She doubted that desperation alone was incentive enough for him to change his attitude. So no point pes-tering Noah for answers that would likely be disregarded. Besides, every time she’d gotten in touch, her now twice-divorced ex made things uneasy by propositioning her.

Then again, they were so stressed out, it would be reassuring to hear that things were going to work out in the end.

“I wouldn’t go if he makes you feel uncomfortable.” Nadine poured more coffee. “I would just call. You’ve done phone read-ings with him before.”

“Either way sounds scary to me,” said their friend, Lori Was-serman. “Just knowing I was going to hear predictions about my future would give me nightmares.”

“Are you kidding?” Mindy laughed. “Name three things that don’t scare you.”
Same for you, Nadine.

They were sitting at Mindy’s kitchen table, just back from their annual mammogram, a tradition they’d started after their dear friend, Marla, died of breast cancer. First they’d carpool to the radiologist’s office in the afternoon, then open a bottle of 238

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wine, hopefully to celebrate another year of getting to “keep the boys.” And if God forbid one of them received a questionable report, at least they’d have immediate love and support.

This year, however, the only way they could arrange their work schedules and be seen back to back was to start at ten in the morning, so the bottle of wine would have to chill. Meanwhile the conversation was plenty good-natured, like the ones they’d have back in the days when their kids were little.

Mindy liked Lori because she was good-hearted and not a gossip. Her one design f law was that she was neurotic. Everything gave you cancer or heart disease or both. And dare you utter the words
trans fats, deodorant,
or
underwire
bras, be prepared for the dire warnings.

As a joke one Halloween, Mindy and Nadine went in on a government issued hazmat suit, only to have her cry from joy.

“Thank you,” she sniffed. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted one of these. It’s like my Victoria’s Secret.”

“The problem with talking to Noah,” Mindy went on, “is that he’s usually right on the money. I’d die if he told me things were going to get even worse.”

“Don’t be negative,” Nadine said. “Maybe he’ll see great things ahead.”

“Based on what? The extraordinary luck we’ve had so far?”

“Based on the fact that it’s your turn for a little good news.”

“Knock-knock.”
Beth scared them with her rap at the back door.

“Crap,” Nadine grumbled. She hated Beth and liked it better when Mindy did, too.

“Hi.” Mindy unlocked the door and made eye contact. “How are you? Anything new?”

“Is your little coffee klatch almost over?” She peered in. “I have to talk to you.”

OHMYGOD!
“
Um,
well, see, we’re celebrating our clean mam-Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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mograms and then going for lunch. Do you want to come in?”

She felt daggers in her back.

“No, thanks.” Beth made a face. She detested Nadine as much as the other way around, having to do with some stupid incident that neither could remember, but the grudge held.

“When are you getting back?”

“I guess in a few hours.” She tried to read Beth as if the answer would f lash in neon. Pregnant? Not pregnant? Pregnant? Not pregnant? Better yet, maybe Mindy would offer her a glass of wine.

If she refused, that would be a sign of the big, prenatal no-no.

“Okay, call me when you get back,” Cool Hand Beth gave nothing away other than more things for Aaron. “These are Richard’s, but who cares,” she said, handing Mindy a bag. “Let Aaron go through it after school.”

“Actually he’s at the store with Artie. We figured he’s missed so much, what’s another few days off? And then Nadine invited a bunch of Jonathan’s friends over tonight so he can meet them and at least see a few familiar faces on Monday. You sure you don’t want to come in? We were just talking about whether I should go see this psychic I know. Do you ever have big, important questions you want answers to?”

“You know a psychic?” Beth clapped. “Who is it? Which one?”

“Noah Blum?”

“No way.” She placed her hand on her heart. “You’ve been to him?”

“If you want to know the truth, I’ve been on him,” she chuckled. “We were a thing in high school, and then for a little while before I met Artie.”

“Is that good for a discount?”

“I wish.” Mindy stepped outside. “What happened?” She kept her voice down. “Did you do the test yet? You look calm. It was negative, right?”

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“Would you get off my case?” Beth whisper-yelled. “You don’t need to be obsessing over this. It’s not your problem.”

“You say that now.”

“Trust me, at my age and with Richard gone, there is no way I’m having a baby.”

Mindy peeked in to make sure Nadine and Lori weren’t eavesdropping. “But what about your period? Did you remember the last time you had it?”

“No, but it’s only because of that damn perimenopause. Now you see it, now you don’t.”

“Oh my God, would you listen to yourself?” Mindy grabbed Beth’s hand and moved her farther from the door. “You had sex, you can’t remember if you took the pill, you can’t remember the last time you had your period, you’re vomiting, and your boobs hurt—you don’t think, ‘Houston we have a problem’?”

“I can’t fucking be pregnant, okay?” Beth eye’s welled. “I just can’t!”

“Oh believe me, I understand. I had a little scare myself last year and Artie was practically talking me off the ledge. But you have to deal with the facts, so just march your ass back home and take that damn test!”

“I’m afraid,” Beth sniffed. “What if I fail like I have at everything else? My kids hate me, my marriage is a disaster, I’m not qualified to get a job anymore, my only friend is you . . . ”

“Well thanks for throwing me into that pot, but listen. You can’t sit on this like you would a decision to buy a new bedroom set.”

“I would never sit on that decision,” Beth wiped her eye.

“Exactly. And this is almost as important. Now go do it and don’t you dare come back here until you bring me that little stick!”

“You are such a bitch!” Beth headed home.

“I learned from the best!”

Twenty-one

There were times Mindy felt sure that Long Island was the sister city of Hollywood, with its conf luence of wealth, power, and growing number of stunning, ageless women who by virtue of their rich, uninterested husbands had the time and money in which to find trouble.

At least it guaranteed continuous good gossip, like the time Beth’s former friend, Jill, propositioned two men at a party and ended up nude in the hot tub with them, too stoned to notice one of them was her ex-husband’s partner and the other a woman.

Mindy and Nadine loved feasting on these outrageous lapses in judgment, especially knowing the words
don’t repeat this
were code for it’s open season on this idiot. Tell whoever you want.

But of late, Mindy was keeping mum on Beth and it was hard, especially with a miffed Nadine breathing down her neck. “You must know something. You two spend like every waking minute together.”

“We do not. It’s just that we finally called a truce. I thought you’d be happy for me. You of all people know how miserable she’s made me.”

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“Which is why I don’t get how all of a sudden you could be so buddy-buddy with her. She is such a bitch.”

“Well she’s being nice now. What should I do? Tell her to cut it out? And what’s with the jealous wife bit? That’s not like you.”

“I don’t know. . . . I guess I’m feeling left out. We don’t hang out anymore, we hardly talk, and when we do, you’re not doing any of the sharing. Even Lori noticed you’ve changed. That day we were hanging out at your house and Beth showed up, it was like you forgot we were there. And then when we went out to lunch, all you did was check your cell to see if she called.”

“I’m sorry Nadine. I really am. It’s just that she’s got all these problems right now.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Oh no. No no no. I’m not going there. I am not going to betray her trust.”

“Betray her trust? Oh my God. We’re talking about Beth, the neighbor who made you dig her car out after a snowstorm because she didn’t want to ruin her new boots. The neighbor who called the town to accuse you of running your sprinklers on odd days instead of even.”

“People change.”

“Yes they do, but Beth never will. She’s just using you like she uses everyone else.”

“Excuse me, but she can be a very sweet, thoughtful person.”

“She put an anonymous note in your mailbox that said, ‘Dear neighbor, drop dead.’”

“Actually, that was my note. I put it in hers first.”

“What is this?
Brokeback Mountain
? You guys are starting to sound gay. But whatever your deal is, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when she dumps you and goes back to her old habit of making you feel like shit.”

“Fine. You warned me. Now get off my case.”

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“Oh come on. Just one little hint . . . I heard she got drunk at a bar and—”

“Would you stop? How would you like it if I spread it around that Peter couldn’t get it up if Regis and Radu personally came over to lift it?”

“I’d kill you. The difference is, we’ve been friends since college.

How long have you been friends with Beth? Twenty minutes?”

“Nadine, drop it! I’m not saying another word.”

“That’s pretty sad considering she’s been going around telling everyone that you’re a mess and your house is a mess and it’s a shame that Stacie and Jamie are going to end up fat like you because you know shit about proper diet and nutrition.”

“She did not say that!” Mindy gulped.

“According to Elise Kruger she did. I bumped into her at the dry cleaners and she heard it from Stephanie what’s her name with the orange skin who uses the same trainer as Beth.”

“No way. After all I’ve done for her!”

“That’s what I’m saying. She’s a bitch. So is it true? Is she having an affair?”

“No, but Richard’s leaving her and doesn’t know she might be pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Nadine gasped.

“Shit!” Mindy felt faint. “I can’t believe I just did that. You can not repeat this, Nadine. Do you understand? You can not open your mouth to a single soul because it might not even be true.

I mean I’m the one who thought she was pregnant because she had all the symptoms and she hasn’t been careful with the pill and couldn’t remember when she had her period, but she told me she did the test and it was negative, and who knows if Richard is actually going to leave? He’s just threatening because they’re fighting all the time, but in my opinion, I think he really loves her, he’s just got this huge problem with lying, so when he told 244

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her the other night that he’d decided to live in Portland and work for Nike, she couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting or not.”

“Oh, jeez,” Nadine said. “That’s a lot of information!”

“I know, but I wasn’t kidding before. You repeat one word of this and I will tell Peter that you did not go to the movies with me last week, that you went to the craft fair at the Nassau Coli-seum. No, wait. I’ll tell Lori that you still smoke. Oh, man. That will get you into major trouble!”

“Okay, okay . . . relax. You don’t have to get all crazy. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Yeah, right. You’re probably halfway through a group text message.”

“That is not fair, Mindy. Have I ever betrayed your trust?”

“Probably . . . but it better not be this time.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Wasn’t Mindy forever reminding her daughters that trust was the most important thing in a relationship? And how could she be pissed at Nadine for blabbing Beth’s news when she had done the same? So which was worse? Admitting you were this huge hypocrite or living in fear of confrontation?

Not that Mindy would blame Beth for never speaking to her again. In spite of all the mean, hurtful crap Beth had pulled over the years, and the fact that payback was hardly out of line, Mindy had done the unthinkable. She’d added yet another layer of pain to Beth’s suffering.

By evening she was having palpitations about the ugly, un-avoidable showdown and the realization that she had jeopar-dized the start of a new, promising friendship. Even the usually oblivious Artie noticed she wasn’t herself. When did Mindy not devour sushi from Akari?

So when Beth left her an instant message that she needed to come over right away to talk, Mindy’s first thought was to grab her Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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keys and a bag of chips and head to her mother’s house. Not that this was any great refuge. She’d end up confessing, then having to listen to the same tape she’d played for the girls about trust being the most important thing in a relationship. Plus, thanks to the Internet and cell phones, your business and whereabouts were easily traceable. Ditto for leaving your car in the driveway.

“Why didn’t you get back to me?” Beth was standing at the door. “I know you’re home.”

“Oh,
um,
” Mindy stammered. “I was just busy with the kids.

Everything okay?”

“No, of course not. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She opened the door.
Please don’t yell at me here. I don’t
want my family hearing what a terrible person I am.
“Did you hear from Richard again?”

“No . . . what is wrong with you? You’re shaking. Did you see a ghost?”

Wait. You’re not mad at me? Nadine actually kept her mouth shut?

“I’m just a little stressed . . . been a long day.”

“No shit! You must have told your lovely friend Nadine my entire life’s story because I’ve spent the last few hours reading about myself on everyone’s away messages.”

FUCK!
“Beth, I’m so, so sorry. It just blurted out and I—”

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn anymore about who knows what. People are such goddamn hypocrites. We’ve got more important fish to fry.”

“We do?”

“Yeah. Apparently that lady, Anna Jane Crandall, at Downtown Greetings was mighty impressed with us. She sent us an e-mail inviting us to Chicago to talk about doing some sort of creative project for them. Didn’t you read it?”

“No, I haven’t been online today. So, wait. There’s no more contest?”

“Guess so. That crazy lady, Olivia, you spoke to made the 246

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whole thing null and void. Anyway, here’s the deal.” Beth made herself a cup of tea. “She needs us to fly out Thursday and meet with her first thing Friday.”

“This Thursday? That’s only two days from now. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t know. Who would drive the kids?”

“Screw it. It’s time they learned to take the bus.”

“Hello, Fox News? I’d like to report an alien abduction.”

“Or,” Beth ignored her, “maybe Aaron could drive them. He’s not starting school until Monday.”

“Seriously? You’d let a teenager who doesn’t know his way around drive your children?”

“I’ll take my chances. I have no choice.”

“Wait. How can you leave town? Unless Richard is coming back.”

“That’s the other thing I had to tell you,” Beth wrapped the tea bag around her spoon.

“Are we thinking those are his balls because you just castrated that poor thing?”

She looked at her still tight grip and laughed. “I hope he’s feeling this. . . . The prick just e-mailed me that he’s signing a one-year lease for this townhouse near Nike.”

“Oh, man! Now I’m sorry I gave him a ride from the airport the other day. . . . I just felt so sorry that he lost his wallet.”

“He didn’t lose it.”

“Yes, he did. He said he left it in one of those bins at security.”

“I know that’s what he told you, but the man is a pathological liar. He didn’t lose his wallet, he was out of money because he blew through his cash advance.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me. And you had to see how proud he was that he got you to believe his story.”

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“But he seemed so distraught.”

“Mindy, the man could sell beer to the Mormons. The truth is, he never carries his own money or credit cards when he travels for business because he hates waiting to be reimbursed. The hotel and car are direct-billed to the agency and he just takes a big enough cash advance to cover his meals and incidentals. I guess this time he must have had some pretty interesting incidentals because he didn’t have a dime when he got to LaGuardia.”

“No!”

“Yes! Didn’t I tell you he could have been an actor? He had me fooled for a long time, too. I actually thought he loved me.”

“Beth, I’m sure he loves you and the girls, he just needs help.”

“Then you tell him because I’m tired of begging.” She sipped her tea. “Anyway, I just called my mother and told her the whole story, which was not easy because we’re hardly the Gilmore girls. Anyway, she said she would be willing to f ly in tomorrow to stay with the girls and then my dad would come in next week for Passover.”

“So she wasn’t freaked out when you told her? ’Cause my mother would have given me the you-made-your-bed-now-lie-in-it lecture. I think there’s a Hallmark card that says that.”

“A few years ago she would have done that to me, but she’s finally mellowing. That, and her hearing is getting worse. It’s possible she missed half of what I said.”

“Great. So much to look forward to. Deafness, incontinence, nobody wanting to spend time with you unless you brought your checkbook . . .”

They were contemplating the joys of aging when Artie walked in. “I meant to ask if you called Noah? We really need to talk to him.”

“Have you met Mr. Didja?” Mindy asked Beth. “Didja call the exterminator, didja pick up the dry cleaning . . . ? Yes, I called him, but he didn’t get back to me yet.”

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“Is that a bad sign? You think he had an awful vision and now he’s avoiding you?”

“No, I think it means he’s busy helping the government locate missing tax evaders. It always takes him a few days to return my calls. Why are you so jumpy?”

“Mom!” Stacie yelled. “Is the bee-ach still here? I need help with math.”

“Awk-ward!” Artie sang.

“Me?” Beth pointed to herself. “I’m the bee-ach?”

“It’s our little code name for you on speed dial,” Mindy chuckled. “Yes, she’s still here.” Mindy hollered back. “Daddy will help you . . . and please get Ricky into the shower.”

“Well, if it’s true-confession time,” Beth whispered, “you’re FS on our speed dial.”

“Full of shit?” Mindy guessed.

“Fat slob.”

“Oh my God! That’s so mean!”

“Now we’re even. . . . Can we please finish discussing the Chicago thing? I have to get home to talk to the girls.”

“Sure . . . Brace yourself for some actual good news,” Mindy told Artie. “Downtown Greetings wants to meet us on Friday, and they’re paying for us to fly there.”

“You’re kidding.” He stopped drinking. “Why you?”

“Because our entries were amazing,” Beth said. “And apparently they’ve got some big board meeting coming up and want to announce a partnership deal with this fabulous new company called House of Cards.”