Elizabeth Wrenn - Second Chance

‘Hello!’ I said, somewhat angrily.

‘Deena? I was getting ready to leave you a message.’

‘Hi, Elaine.’ I breathed deeply, trying to catch both my breath and my temper.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah. I got stuck in my cabinet.’

A pause. ‘Come again?’

‘That damn Hairy got into the lazy Susan cabinet again and he won’t come out for Pounce or punishment and I can’t reach him and he gets cat hair all over everything !’

‘Oh, God! No!’ she shrieked in mock horror. ‘Has the press arrived?’

Elaine had a way of trivializing my problems, which were, admittedly, mostly trivial. I leaned back on the desk and pulled a paper clip from the drawer and began pulling it apart.

‘Very funny. I’ll have you know we had another Szechuan Persian Hair incident the other night. It grossed out the whole family. Even Matt.’ If my sixteen-year-old eating machine wouldn’t eat something, it was newsworthy.

‘But especially you, I bet. A little cat hair’s not gonna kill you.’ A pause, and then just the slightest change of tone. ‘Y’know, you didn’t used to be such a neat freak.’ True. Elaine and I had lived together for almost two years at the University of Wisconsin, and we would not have won any awards for the cleanest apartment. But it was Elaine’s boyfriend at the time, with the unusual first name of Meyer, who was the real culprit, a world-class slob. He drove Neil crazy. Thank God Elaine hadn’t married Meyer.

‘Hey, have you seen Peter lately?’ I asked, changing the subject. It was Peter Ham she’d married. Before she’d reckoned with the fact that she was a lesbian. I’d always suspected it. Peter had too, it turned out, but loved her so much he’d married her anyway. Now Elaine and Peter both delighted in telling people that they’d been married just long enough for Elaine to become a Jewish Ham.

‘He’s great! Just saw him and Bethany at the grocery store yesterday, actually. They’re making all sorts of plans for next year. You know Seth’s graduating from high school this year?’

‘No!’ Seth was their youngest. Well, it made sense. Peter had married Bethany about a year after his divorce from Elaine was final.

‘Yeah. I think they’re kind of looking forward to the empty nest. They’re talking about going on a cruise next fall.’

‘A cruise! Where?’ Neil and I used to say we’d do that after our kids were all gone. But it hadn’t come up in years.

‘Alaska. Not my idea of a cruise, but they’re all excited about it.’

‘Let me guess, your idea of a cruise is something more tropical?’ That’s what Neil and I had fantasized about.

‘Exactly. Give me that sun, sand, and margarita any day!’ A little sigh from both of us as we contemplated life in a lounge chair.

‘So,’ we both said in unison.

‘Your turn,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’ve been yakking away, as usual.’

I missed her. Over the decades she’d come out to visit every few years, and we talked on the phone often. But I was amazed our friendship had stayed so strong. Our paths couldn’t have been more different.

‘Okay. I was just going to ask about Wendy, and your art.’ I loved and hated asking about both. Elaine was always so passionate about those subjects that it tended to draw a sprawled sidewalk chalk line around the lack of passion in my own life.

‘Wendy’s fantastic! New accounts all over the place. I’m so proud of her. As for me, well, suffice to say I’m having a ball. Doing some new things. We’ll see where it goes.’ She was unusually circumspect. Probably swamped at work. She was the art director for Art of the Matter magazine. Unlike me, Elaine had not only gotten her bachelor’s in art, but had gone on for a master’s, then built an impressive résumé. Plus, she’d been doing art on her own all this time for her own pleasure, even had an occasional small show in Madison.

‘So, what were you doing before you got into the cat-extrication business?’ she asked. I loved Elaine. She could always make me smile.

‘Scrubbing grout.’ The words clunked to the floor like bricks.

‘Oy-vey, girlfriend !’ she cried across the miles, sounding both Jewish, which she was, and black, which she was not. ‘What is it with you and cleaning the past few years? You gotta get out.’ She said it like ‘owwwwt!’

‘But I’m a full-time mom, it’s my job. And my kids still need me, even if they don’t think so.’

‘Well, of course they do, Deena-leh, but not every waking minute. It’s not like they’re babies, hon.’

Babies. Now there was unconditional love. These days it felt like all my kids needed me for was as a wall to push off of. ‘No, they’re not babies.’ Another little sigh slipped out.

‘Whoa, Nelly! Don’t tell me you’re thinking about another baby again!’

In my early forties, my ovary must have burped or something and I’d approached Neil about having another baby. After we’d poked the vein back into his forehead, we’d agreed we were way too old. Besides, babies grow up into teenagers. I’d eventually be right back where I was now. Which, ironically, was wanting to be something other than a wife and mother. More and more I found myself fantasizing about leaving. Just up and leaving. Fantasizing . I wouldn’t actually do it. Probably not, anyway. No. Of course not.

But I could fantasize, right? Every day.

‘No. No more babies. Probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Haven’t had a period in months.’ Not to mention the part about having to have sex in order to become pregnant.

I put the straightened paper clip down, slid off the desk, walked to the sink, and gazed out the window at the leaden sky. ‘But you know, E, only a baby has the power to make the world a better place simply by existing.’ But then again, they also had a way of sucking up your own existence when you weren’t looking.

‘I feel like opting out of my life right now, E.’ There. I just blurted it out.

‘You just need to get away, Deena. Come see us! For once.’ Elaine had stopped lobbying me to come out there since I’d refused for decades, hating to fly and unable to stretch the maternal ties, but usually claiming timing or money or both.

But now I wanted to go. Sort of. The mere thought of flying sent my blood pressure soaring, and going by car or bus didn’t appeal to me either. If I could only be there without having to get there. That was how I felt about losing weight. And fitness. And menopause.

Transitions. I guess they named the hardest part of giving birth that for a reason.

But then there was also the terrifying thought that even if I got to Madison, what if I didn’t want to come back? I picked up the toothbrush and started scrubbing grout again and told Elaine, ‘I don’t think so. It’s really tight now with Sam’s tuition.’ I pressed the toothbrush under the base of the sprayer, going after a bit of grime.

‘Deena, is it really that tight? Or are you just addicted to sacrificing for your family?’

What was that supposed to mean?

‘Look, come out, we’ll have a girls’ weekend. I’ll pay for it, your trip, some pampering. My treat. It’ll be your birthday slash Christmas present. Let me and Wendy take care of you for a change.’

‘I— can’t. Besides, my birthday and Christmas, as you well know, were both last month, and you already sent gifts for each.’ I knelt on the floor, holding the phone with one hand and the toothbrush in the other. I scrubbed forcefully at the grout between the floor tiles.

‘What are you doing? Are you scrubbing the grout again?’

‘The floor grout. Not the tile grout.’

‘Who cares?! Put down the damn toothbrush! You’re using a toothbrush, aren’t you?’