Page 6

That’s What Friends Do

At nine o’clock the following morning Pam sat in her van, her left armpit positioned in front of the air-conditioning vent while Nancy helped Marlene load her carry-on into the rear compartment and then jumped in on the back bench beside Shalisa. Marlene opened Pam’s passenger door and jolted to a stop.

Pam looked across the seat. “What is it? Did you forget something?”

Marlene stood frozen.

“Well?”

Pam prodded.

“The last time I was in this van I’d just found out Dave had died.”

Marlene’s face scrunched up.

Holy fuck! Pam had watched Marlene keep her eyes straight ahead as she’d locked her front door and given a wide berth to the faint stain on the asphalt where Dave’s blood had pooled. But she hadn’t expected her van to trigger a breakdown. Pam hurriedly unbuckled, launched herself from the driver’s seat, and ran around to embrace her friend, rotating her to face away from the garage. Nancy and Shalisa climbed out, and the four women huddled under the hot sun.

Marlene sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Shalisa patted her back. “It’s okay, Marlene. Sometimes the grief is going to hit you like a tsunami. Leaving your home is an emotional moment. You’re allowed to be sad.”

“Shalisa’s right. It’s okay,”

Nancy said, and then over Marlene’s shoulder, checked her watch and whispered to Pam, “We’re gonna miss our appointment.”

Pam flashed a glare at Nancy and whispered back, “Are you for real? Since when have you worried about being on time?”

Nancy steeled her eyes. “It wasn’t easy to get four side-by-sides at the last minute. I had to play the new-widow card.”

She gestured with her head toward Marlene.

The previous day, on Pam’s patio, when they were hugging Marlene goodbye, Shalisa had looked down at Marlene’s sandals and had shrieked, “You can’t go to Boca Raton like that—you’ll never make friends with those feet.”

Shalisa was right. Marlene couldn’t start her new life with raggedy cuticles and cracked heels, so they’d decided to squeeze in an emergency pit stop at the neighborhood nail salon on their way to the airport. Now, after coaxing Marlene into the van, easing her trauma by repositioning her to sit in the rear, Pam drove them along the bay to the nearby strip plaza. She smiled when Shalisa reached between the seats and turned up the volume and once again, Pam could feel the bass in her bum. It wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but it was a start.

The nail salon wasn’t a fancy place, but it was convenient. They used to be regulars—before—when they could afford to outsource their self-care.

Nancy said from the passenger seat, “Can we swing by my house? I forgot the coupon.”

Pam scowled at her. “Two minutes ago you were worried about being late. Do you have any concept of time? Marlene has a flight to catch.”

“I’m literally three minutes from here. It’s for ten percent off.”

“What is that? Three bucks? Surely we can each afford three bucks.”

Marlene spoke up from the backseat, “I’ll treat for the pedicures. It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’m rich now.”

She chuckled. “You guys can treat me when your husbands are dead.”

Pam didn’t have to check to know Nancy and Shalisa’s eyes were on her. A few minutes later Pam was watching her friends in another mirror, the large one on the salon’s wall across from them. They were sitting side by side, vibrating in their massaging pedicure chairs with their feet soaking in tubs of soapy, hot water. Four nail technicians were gathered at the back of the shop in animated conversation.

Shalisa whispered, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

Pam answered, “They’re probably doing rock, paper, scissors to see who has to take Marlene.”

Marlene threw her head back and laughed. “It’s not my fault I have bunions. It was all those dance lessons as a kid.”

Marlene reached out to squeeze Pam’s hand. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Pam squeezed back. “You’re going for two days.”

“I know. I mean once I’ve moved. Permanently.”

Pam squeezed again. “We’ll Zoom. We’ll visit. We’re friends forever.”

Marlene played with her controls until her cheeks began to jiggle as the chair’s rollers worked their way up her back. “You know, I always thought you’d be first, Pam.”

Nancy said, “Me too.”

In the mirror, Pam saw Shalisa nod in agreement.

“What are you saying? You all thought Hank would die first. Uch. What a horrible thing to think.”

Marlene said, “I only mean, you usually lead the way. You know, the first to sign up for fun fair, organize coaches’ gifts, sell all your frozen chocolate chip cookie dough. I thought you’d lead us into widowhood too. I never dreamt I’d be first. Well, to be honest, I don’t know why, but I always thought we’d do it together. Obviously, I didn’t think about it clearly. But whenever I’ve pictured myself as being old, I’m always with you guys. Never with Dave. Is that weird?”

Nancy said, “No. I think the same thing. It’s because we know women usually outlive men. So it’s not weird. There’s a study that says the happiest people are widows. I think it’s because their husbands have given them their children, they’ve raised their families, and once their kids are grown and husbands are gone, the wives can do what they want.”

Shalisa sighed. “Well, since Andre and I never had a family, all I’ve ever needed him for was to put up the Christmas tree. And last year Nancy found me an artificial one on sale, so now I don’t need him at all.”

Pam’s eyes opened wide. “Shalisa! You’re so harsh.”

Marlene’s phone rang, and she answered. They overheard mentions of open houses and closing dates.

Shalisa leaned forward so she could see Pam and lowered her voice. “Think what you want, Pam. I’m just saying out loud what you’re thinking. We do not need our husbands. You and Nancy have had your kids. None of us are having sex anymore. They’re not supporting us financially. They’re no fun! What the fuck are they, beyond a lump on the sofa and a mouth at the table? If I were a widow, I’d be happy. And rich.”

She sat back.

Pam was relieved Marlene finished her phone call then.

Nancy said, “I think most women think they’ll eventually end up widows. Just depends when. Some are sooner than later.”

“Well. I did buy a four-bedroom condo. I hope you guys are sooner.”

Marlene thumped her chest, coughing a bit as she laughed.

“Me too,”

said Shalisa.

“Me three,”

said Nancy.

Avoiding eye contact with Nancy and Shalisa, Pam focused on the nail techs and was thankful when the group broke apart and turned toward them. “Here they come. Let’s see who lost and got Marlene.”

* * *

“Bon voyage,”

Pam called across the check-in area.

“Make friends, but no one better than us,”

said Nancy.

“At least with that pedicure, now she has a fighting chance,”

Shalisa said under her breath as she blew a kiss, then called, “See you soon.”

They smiled as Marlene waved back one last time, then turned and wheeled her carry-on toward security screening.

Nancy’s eyes followed her friend as she traveled through the stanchions. “I’m telling you, that could be us.”

Shalisa said, “Don’t I know it.”

Pam shook her head. “Not me. I’ll never wear capris again. They’re old-lady clothes. I’m gonna tell Marlene the next time I see her.”

Nancy said, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

Pam said, “That’s what friends do. In our twenties we keep each other from being roofied; in our sixties we let each other know if we’re doing old-lady shit and when it’s time to pluck our chin hair.”

Nancy moved in front to face Pam and Shalisa. “I meant, that could be us—moving to Boca Raton.”

“Not this again. I know what you meant.”

Pam turned toward the exit, looking forward to getting outside and into the fresh air. She stopped, looked around, leaned in, and hissed at Nancy and Shalisa, “I’d like to be moving to Boca Raton too, but I already told you, I am not killing my husband.” She locked eyes with one woman and then the other to let that sink in.

Nancy nodded for a moment and then pointed her finger at Pam’s chest. “I tell you what, Pam, we’ll make you a deal. You go home tonight, and you take a good look at Hank. Tomorrow, if you can tell us one way that he brings an ounce of joy to your life—just one—then we’ll drop this, and I swear we’ll never talk about it again. Right, Shalisa?”

Shalisa squinted one eye. “Well . . . maybe not nev—”

“Shalisa!”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll never talk about it again.”

Nancy stretched her arm in front of her, palm down. Shalisa placed her palm on top. Pam looked from one to the other, blew out her breath, then covered Shalisa’s hand with her own.

“Fine. Deal.”

* * *

Pam opened the fridge and shivered at the coolness. Elmer sauntered into the kitchen and watched her.

“How was your day?”

she asked as he plunked down across the threshold.

Pam loved that her dog was indifferent to food. Even if she left a half-eaten ham sandwich on the coffee table, he’d roll by, sniff it, and keep going. On walks, strangers would offer him treats, and she’d be embarrassed when he’d delicately accept it, roll it around in his mouth, and spit it out. She got him a piece of beef jerky, which she knew he approved of, and he took it gently from her hand and carefully chewed it. Pam returned to the fridge.

Two nights ago, still hungry after Dave’s funeral, Pam hadn’t felt like cooking, so she’d allowed herself a rare treat and ordered in—Hank’s budget be damned. She had selected chicken curry for him and, for herself, pad thai. Her absolute favorite food in the world. That was one of the things she missed now that she was poor—that’s how she thought of their situation, no point in mincing words. She missed having other people cook for her.

She and Hank had never been rich, but they’d been on their way to a modest retirement when Hank got greedy. That’s how Pam thought of it—no point in mincing words about that either. Pam knew Hank didn’t mean for it to happen. It wasn’t as though he woke up one day and said, “Hey, I’m gonna cash out our retirement plan without consulting my wife and give all our money, our hopes and dreams, to this slimy guy I met golfing. Better yet, let me talk our friends into giving him their money too, and then we can all wave goodbye to life as we know it, together.”

No. He didn’t mean for it to happen. But it had.

Pam pushed those thoughts from her mind. Where was her pad thai? She hadn’t had the appetite to finish it that night, so she’d put half in the fridge for later. All day she’d been thinking about heating it up, and she was famished. She could already feel the crunch of the peanuts on her tongue. She was shuffling Tupperware around in the fridge when Hank arrived home and bent down to pet Elmer in the doorway. Pam glanced at him and then went back to the fridge. “Did you see my pad thai?”

“I ate it.”

Pam turned to look at him, the fridge still open. “You what?”

“I ate it.”

“You ate my pad thai?”

“You were done. So I finished it.”

“You finished my pad thai?”

“For fuck’s sake, Pam. Yes. I finished the pad thai.”

“My pad thai.”

“The pad thai.”

“Did you order it?”

“Well, no.”

“Exactly. I ordered it. It was my pad thai. I get to eat it. Just because I don’t finish it in one sitting doesn’t mean it’s up for grabs. Available to anyone who strolls by the fridge with a fork. It was my pad thai.”

“Whatever.”

Hank rose, turned to go, then stopped. “And you know what, Pam? I wasn’t even hungry.”

Pam grabbed the door handle to steady herself. She watched Hank’s back as he walked down the hall. After a moment she closed the fridge, picked her phone up off the kitchen counter, and sent a text.