Alison Lurie - Last Resort

“I believe so,” Lee said.

“She must have some great stories.” Barbie gazed into the middle distance through a pane of glass smeared with chalky cleanser.

“Could be,” Lee agreed, frowning at the phone bill. “All I ever remember Molly saying is that in college Walker was known as World War II.”

Barbie stopped spraying. “World War II?” she said in the tone of someone mentioning a distant historical epoch—which no doubt it was for her. “I don’t get it.”

“Because of his initials. Wilkie Walker, WW. He was supposed to be hell on wheels.”

“Professor Walker’s not like that at all,” Barbie protested. “And I bet he never was, either. That was probably just some dumb old joke. I wish you could meet him; then you’d see.”

Lee did not echo this wish.

“Anyhow, he’s not like that, no way He’s a very spiritual person. I’m kind of stupid sometimes, you know, and when I was paddling I kept heading us into the reeds, but he didn’t yell at me or anything.”

“Mm,” Lee murmured, adding a column of figures.

“And he knew so much about the dolphins, and this rare sea mammal we saw. It’s called a manatee.”

“You saw a manatee?” Lee asked, attempting to divert Barbie from her praise of WW II. “What did it look like?”

“Well, it was kinda—kinda like a seal, I guess, only much bigger. Sorta tubby and pale brownish grayish, with a round face and bristly whiskers. And this sorta serious, wise expression—It looked a little like Professor Walker, actually.”

“Really.” Lee mentally compared the images of manatees she had seen in the Greenpeace store with recent photos of Wilkie Walker. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” She laughed.

“He knew all about it too. It’s not his specialty, but you know he’s always loved animals and studied them. Even when he was a little kid. I was the same way myself, though of course I wasn’t brilliant like him. I was always bringing home lost cats, and birds that had fallen out of their nest, and lizards and bugs. Mom used to get really disgusted with me.” Barbie’s tone slid down the scale from enthusiasm to something near depression.

“Mom’s thinking of maybe coming to Key West, you know,” she added.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Or maybe she won’t.” Her expression brightened.

“It sounds like you hope she doesn’t,” Lee said.

“Well, uh. I mean, I know Mom wouldn’t like it here.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Uh, well, you know. There’s all these, you know, kind of weird people around. Anyhow, except for Oklahoma and Washington, Mom doesn’t like most places. She thought Europe was sorta disgusting. And it would be real hard for her to get away now, she’s so involved back in Tulsa.”

“So probably she won’t come,” Lee suggested.

“I d’know. When she heard what the situation was here, she said she might consider it.”

“Oh? What’s the situation here?”

“Well, you know.” Barbie swiped at a pane of glass. “I mean, Perry says everybody does in Key West, but we didn’t have any idea back home.”

“Any idea about what?” Lee asked with exasperation.

“I mean, about him being so sick.”

Lee frowned and put down her pencil and calculator. “You’re telling me Jacko’s mother didn’t know he’s HIV-positive? I thought that was why she came.”

“Uh-uh.” Barbie rested the roll of paper towels on the top step of the ladder. “He just told her night before last. We were having ice cream in that Flamingo Crossing place you recommended. Aunt Dorrie just kinda fell apart. She dropped her cone and went all white and trembly, like she was the one who was sick or maybe even dying. Perry kept telling her it wasn’t so bad. I mean, he feels fine now, and he still has lots of good cells in his blood. But it was like Aunt Dorrie couldn’t hear him. She kept crying and there was mango ice cream all down her dress. It was awful.”

“Yeah, I see.” Lee imagined what it would be like to learn that her daughter, who was now becoming a city planner in Boston, had AIDS.

“She’s been kinda weepy ever since. Yesterday when we saw the manatee Aunt Dorrie didn’t hardly say anything, she was sorta out of it the whole time. And I guess she isn’t really sleeping much, because last night and the night before, I could hear her walking around outside.”

“Do you think she’d feel better if your mother was here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean Mom is her big sister, and Aunt Dorrie usually kinda depends on her. And Mom’s always on top of things. She’s doesn’t get confused in a crisis the way most people do. Like she puts it, she can see the big picture. That’s why she’s so successful in business and everything.” Barbie sprayed another pane.

“I see. A kind of generalist.”

“Well, yeah. Mom is like a general, in a way. She sorta goes right into a problem and finds out all the details and gets it organized. For instance last night she was asking me all this stuff about Cousin Perry, did he have medical insurance, when had he last been to the doctors, and what exactly did they say. Only I couldn’t tell her anything really. Then she wanted to know about his place, where was it located, how many buildings there were, where Aunt Dorrie and I were staying, and how big was the pool. Like she wanted to visualize our situation in her mind, I guess.”

“I see.” The thought came to Lee that Barbie’s mother, as a high-powered real estate agent, was anticipating the possible mortgage or sale of Jacko’s property to cover his medical bills.

“Only I wasn’t much use with that either. I don’t organize things like Mom does. She got kinda impatient with me, like she does.” Barbie sighed and began rubbing the glass again.

“She often gets impatient with you.” Lee frowned, irritated to hear herself falling into her therapist mode. She had promised herself not to do this with Barbie, who was obviously a dependent personality.

“The thing is, I’m a disappointment to her. I feel bad about that, because so many people have disappointed her already.”

“Is that so?” Lee said skeptically. According to Jacko, Barbie’s mother was a rich woman, a very successful real estate agent, and a powerful force in the local Republican party.

“Well, yeah. For instance Gary, that’s my brother. Mom was keen for him to have a career in politics, but it didn’t work out, because people, you know, voters, sorta didn’t take to him.”

“So what does he do instead?” Lee imagined Barbie’s brother as a masculine equivalent of her: blond, innocent, clumsy, and lost.

“Oh, he’s a big success in Tulsa. Oil leases and banking. He has a head for deals, he’s like Mom that way.”

“I see.” Lee revised her image.

“And Dad disappointed her too. He was such a great guy, everybody loved him. But he didn’t have Mom’s business drive, and he wouldn’t go into politics like she wanted him to. Then about ten years ago he was in this awful car accident, where a guy got killed. And then he went to England on a tour with his sister who lives in Fort Worth and he never came back.” Barbie began to choke up.

“You mean he deserted the family,” Lee said dryly, trying to head off Barbie’s tears.

“Aw, no!” The maneuver worked: Barbie shifted from sorrow to indignation. “Dad would never have done that. See, he had this heart condition, and he just, he just went and passed away somewhere in England.” Barbie’s tone became weepy.

“But your husband’s in politics, isn’t he?” Lee said, to avert a serious rainstorm. “I think Jacko said he was elected to Congress. That must please your mother.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, she was real happy at first. Only now she’s kinda disappointed in him too, because of this woman—”