Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [19]
I was wide-awake, having spent most of the night crying off and on like a complete fool. But in the morning light I was coming to the conclusion that what was there to cry about really? Because there was nowhere to sit except on a mattress and box spring? Because my clothes were in cardboard boxes all around the bedroom, dropped unceremoniously in piles by the burly movers? Because all my family photographs were in a stack on the kitchen counter, their silver frames all confiscated? Because there was no flat-screen television with which to start my day with Matt Lauer and all my imaginary friends on the Today Show? Please. It was easier to specify what remained than what was gone. And there was nothing to be done about it anyway.
“Get out of bed and start your day,” I said out loud to myself. I rolled to one side and then pushed myself up into a sitting position. I had not slept on a mattress and box spring on the floor since my college days, and as I struggled to rise I realized those days were a very long time ago. My knees creaked, my balance was definitely off, and I stumbled to the bathroom like an old, arthritic lady. I looked dreadful but it was perfectly understandable. But I still had clean towels and I hoped that a hot shower would get me moving.
I stood there under the hot water for much longer than usual, continuing to count my blessings. Isn’t that what people were supposed to do in trying times? Well, the list of my blessings was short but it was not an insignificant list. I had my health, I wasn’t ugly, and I had a reasonable sense of humor and respectable brains. Good health was a wonderful asset, not to be taken lightly, and good humor would see me through this impressive morass of utter and complete bullshit I was facing. On the material side of the ledger, I could add my diamond studs and diamond ring. And a nice watch. There was some other jewelry but it probably wouldn’t amount to much if I tried to sell it. I imagined that our leased cars would surely be repossessed but that was all right with me. I had never been a car person anyway. In fact, I made a mental note to call Bergen Jaguar and Globe Motors to just come pick them up. And after yesterday, mark that as the intergalactic benchmark for a bad day, I was un-insultable, which I was pretty sure wasn’t a word and I didn’t care one whit. It didn’t matter if I did care. The facts were what they were. At least I had the beginnings of some sort of a plan.
I brushed my hair up into a big barrette, pulled on a pair of pants and a sweater, and wondered how long it would take for the swelling in my face to go down. I looked like a bloated trout. Every time I cried, since I was a little girl, my face would get blotchy and my eyes puffed up like I’d been on a bender. Come to think of it, Patti, Mark, and I did put the almighty hurt on three bottles of wine last night. Maybe that had something to do with the ruddiness of my complexion. But let’s be honest, if ever there was an occasion that merited overindulgence, yesterday had been the ultimate one.
By the time I reached the kitchen to try and rustle up some sort of a breakfast, snow had begun falling in earnest, and Patti and Mark were coming in the door with a box of doughnuts; a bag of paper cups, napkins, and spoons, and a huge Box o’ Joe from Dunkin Donuts; the Bergen Record and the New York Times. It was just before seven.
“Morning,” I said. “You two are sure up with the birds! How are the roads?”
Patti gave me a peck on the cheek and then stood back and looked at me.
“The highways are probably fine but the neighborhood? Not so great. Next time you buy a house, make sure there’s a politician on the street.”
“Yeah, then you get plowed out first.”
“By the way, shugah, you look like who did it and ran, girl,” she said. “Lipstick.” She reached in her purse and handed me a tube.
“We’re supposed to get twelve to eighteen inches,” Mark said and we all moaned.
“Somebody did do it and ran,” I said, using her tube of Chanel Ballerina. “But! On the bright side of things, those