Kate Christensen - The Great Man

Lila waved her away. “What are you going to cook for this second one?”

Teddy cocked her eye at Lila. “No bet?”

“No, no, I’ll just live vicariously through you,” said Lila, trying for light teasing, but dismayed by the edge in her voice.

“You’re right,” said Teddy, not missing a beat. “The whole idea is ridiculous.”

“Besides,” said Lila after a silent deep breath, “it doesn’t seem right, an old woman with a much younger man. Remember that movie Harold and Maude ? That wrinkled crone with a teenage boy. I never understood why so many people loved it.”

“Me, neither.” Teddy laughed. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing my old carcass in bed with a nubile forty-year-old body…. For him, no doubt, it would be terrifying and distasteful, but for me it would be glorious. All the men our age are so…old, aren’t they? They have ear hair, their teats droop, and they look cadaverous. Not for me, thanks. I’ll take a sapling.”

“Speaking of which…” said Lila coyly.

“Speaking of what? You’re simpering. Cough it up.”

“I am not simpering ! No one simpers anymore.”

“Well what?”

“I met a nice man…. There he was with his big black dog upon Manhattan Avenue, and I stopped to pet him, the dog, and we started talking, the man and I. His name is Rex. He lives way over on Devoe Street. He asked me to dinner.”

Teddy said through a flash of something she hoped wasn’t envy, “When are you going?”

“Tonight,” said Lila with apprehension.

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“It didn’t seem as important as all these biographers.”

“Rex…he’s Italian?”

“No, he’s not any ethnicity I could guess. He’s a graphic artist.”

“How old is he?”

“I would guess early to mid-sixties,” said Lila.

“A nubile young thing…”

“He’s actually pretty youthful, come to think of it. I don’t know why he’s single. He has the look of a confirmed bachelor, though — you know what I mean, the collector type with stuff like boxes of valuable old blues records or a model train with a whole town built around it.”

“Still,” said Teddy. “A nice, eligible, interesting younger man. So? Is he picking you up, or are you meeting him somewhere?”

“He’s coming by to get me at seven…. I’m a little nervous. What will I wear? What will I do when he eventually catches sight of my fat old naked body? He won’t want me; he can’t possibly…”

“Lila, you’re hyperventilating. It’ll be okay….”

“I am not hyperventilating. God, you make me sound like a swooning old maid. I’ve had two husbands, Teddy. I know how to—”

“Take a deep breath.”

Lila sighed deeply, then asked, “Do you have spider veins on your thighs?”

“Of course I have spider veins on my thighs; I’m seventy-four years old.”

“But, Teddy…are you getting bald…down there?”

“We all are. Stop obsessing. He won’t be looking at every detail; men never do. All they see are lips, boobs, and cunt. As long as there aren’t too many negatives, you’re fine.”

“A balding snatch isn’t a negative?”

“A balding snatch could be a fetish.”

They both laughed.

“Honestly, Teddy, tell me you wouldn’t be nervous, too.”

“Have a couple of drinks before he picks you up. Two glasses of sherry and you’ll be relaxed and confident as a twenty-year-old.”

“God, if only I still were.”

“We were so incredibly beautiful,” said Teddy. “Well, at least we knew it. At least we enjoyed ourselves.”

“That gets me through many a night.”

Teddy leaned back in her chair and looked out at her friend’s yard. “The male cardinal is back,” she said. “That’s good luck. Where’s his mate?”

“She’s around here somewhere. She likes to keep a low profile, unlike him.”

“Like me and Oscar. Anyway, I made a soup for Ralph Washington. Something to disappoint him initially and woo him eventually. Like the saffron chicken stew I made for Henry. What a funny question about the spider veins. Haven’t you had them for decades now?”

“I only got them recently.”

“Your skin is so much younger than mine.”

“That’s because I’m fat,” said Lila. “All that adipose is holding my face up.”

“My wrinkles used to bother me in my early fifties,” said Teddy, “but I don’t mind them anymore now that I’ve had time to get used to them. Now I feel like a well-worn old leather handbag with all sorts of intriguing bobby pins and sticks of gum in my crevices. No telling what you’ll find if you go digging around.”

Lila laughed. “What kind of soup?”

“Lentil, a very good gourmet one. I pulled out all the stops from my spice rack and added some beautiful-smelling merguez and chopped grilled artichoke hearts I couldn’t really afford. I’ll serve it with cheese biscuits made with some of that cheddar — you know, the very inexpensive cheddar that tastes so good baked in things…Cracker Barrel. And of course a devil’s-ear salad. And Sancerre.”

“What will you serve for nibblies?”

“For appetizers,” said Teddy, cringing silently at “nibblies,” “I got some simple antipasti from that hippie-dippy place on Manhattan Avenue, stuffed grape leaves, grilled peppers, goat cheese, olives, babaganoush…. Where are you and Rex going for dinner?”

“I hope he doesn’t take me to one of those places all the kids go. I’d hate to walk into one of those dark, noisy hot spots looking like someone’s grandma, which I am, but you know, it’s like being a humpback with two heads around here. I hope he takes me to that mafioso seafood place near the river. Even though the food is mediocre, I wouldn’t feel out of place there. But I have a sinking feeling…. He has that confirmed-bachelor air about him — the kind of ex-hippie who still lives like he’s thirty and has a budget to match….”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“I guess I could offer to pay for dinner, of course. What pride does anyone have about such things at our age, really?”

“He might surprise you. Maybe he’s more mature than he looked.”

“He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans.”

“What kind of shoes?”

“Black loafers.”

“Could go either way. Old-man shoes are very in right now. Was there anything written on the T-shirt?”

“No, it was plain. Blue.”

“Besides, so what if he still lives like he’s thirty? Maybe that means he can still get it up.”

“Maybe. It’s been so long, you know. I don’t know what they’re using nowadays, how they get around that. Well, Viagra, but isn’t there a new thing that makes them hard for four days? I hope he doesn’t have that.”

“So where’s he been all this time?”

“He was living in Amsterdam last winter, designing a catalog for a Dutch furniture company.”

Teddy rubbed her eyes and swallowed a sleepy yawn. While Lila was being fed bits of lobster by this youthful, successful graphic designer who could probably still muster an erection, she would be drumming up old stories about Oscar and serving forth a meal for some wet-lipped Oscar worshiper who would of course take no romantic interest in her whatsoever, all her earlier braggadocio aside. She had been yearning lately for male attention and companionship, although sex would have been nice, too.

“An employed graphic designer; that means he’ll probably be able to afford a nice dinner,” she said.

“Maybe,” said Lila, obviously comforted.

“What are you going to wear?” Teddy asked, stifling another yawn. She hadn’t slept well the past few nights. All the wine and reviving old memories with Henry had kept her awake after he’d left; then she had dreamed vividly about Oscar during the short time she’d been able to fall into a trance deep enough to be called sleep. The past few nights had followed a similar pattern.