I’ve set up the rec center for this afternoon’s Stitch and Bitch. It’s becoming clear that Teddy is going to reach his second-week employment milestone tomorrow and I’m making him a tiny military medal to pin to his T-shirt. I can picture it; I’ll pin it to his chest. He’ll salute and laugh and ask me what’s for dinner.
I think this is the closest I’ll get to having a roommate. Or a best friend. I can see why the Parlonis enjoy having an affable young man around the house. He’s created “The Good Neighbors Jar” a few days ago, with his first cash contribution toward my groceries. I think he knows I hate going off-site, because he goes to the store for me. He enjoys having a list.
He always buys me something sweet, as my treat for being so good.
While I wait for my Stitch and Bitchers, I’m taking a moment to test the rec center’s doorknob, just to sharpen my muscle memory. Locked has such a nice full-stop feeling to it. Unlocked is a sloppy looseness and I can’t stand it. I’ve been practicing this drill for a while.
“How was your conference call?” Melanie asks as she strolls up the path. She’s the old me, carefree and not required to attend stressful meetings, and I envy her deeply. Is this how Sylvia feels all the time?
I force my hand off the doorknob. “I think I sounded semicoherent. Anyway, what are you doing here? You’re meant to be looking after the office.”
“You ran off before I could ask what heinous tasks they’re giving us now. I could see your glittering sweat mustache from my desk.” Melanie now gives a cheery smile to one of the residents passing nearby on a mobility scooter. “Hi, Mrs. D’Angelo. Relax, I’ve got the phone diverted.” She waggles her cell phone at me.
I’d praise her increasing friendliness to the residents, but I’m distracted. “And it’s unlocked down there, isn’t it. Mel, go back.”
She’s too busy taking a photo of her manicure against the flowered hedge to listen. “What did Rose want this time?”
“Insurance details. There’s also some advanced reporting they’ve asked for that Sylvia always does. I might need your help getting the packet together.” Sweat mustache is putting it mildly. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. They got access to the banking accounts. The way they were talking, you’d think this place was a sinking ship. I think I should try calling Sylvia.”
Not one of my emails has been answered. She was the one who insisted on regular updates, but I’m feeling like a harasser. Has she fallen overboard? She’s not a woman I can imagine lying drunk on a deck chair, sunburned and asleep.
Melanie uploads the photograph of her #hand to her Instagram account. “No way. Prove that you handled everything. I have been temping for fifteen thousand years, and here’s what I know. Everything that gives you a sick stomach is a great example in a job interview one day.”
“You forget, my goal is to never do an interview again.”
If Sylvia arrives back and I’ve screwed this up, she will fire me into next year. I think again of the fold-out couch in my parents’ basement; maybe it’s waiting for me. I take a rare moment to pray.
Melanie the Temp is never impressed by my company loyalty. “Picked out your Providence town house already? Prepaid that burial plot, too? Ew, Ruthie. We need to focus on the Sasaki Method pronto and get you back out into the land of the living.” She turns to leave.
“Hey, wait a second. I want all of the Sasaki Method stuff to be just between us after work. There’s no way I want them to find out we’re goofing off. So I think we need to keep a line between us and Teddy.”
“I agree. I think he’s a test.”
“A test from PDC?” I never thought of that.
“No, a test sent by the dating gods. It’s like when you go to the grocery store really hungry. If you don’t have your list with you, you’ll end up in front of the cake cabinet, picking out a Black Forest to eat in the car. What’s on your shopping list?”
I know what kind of answer I’m supposed to give. “Granola and toilet cleaner.”
She hoots. “Exactly. We’ll apply the same lesson to men. Some are yummy but just no good for you. I know he’s been hanging around your place. You come up an awful lot in his dreams, by the way.”
I want to know, but I don’t even blink. “He’s not a test. We’re neighbors.”
“I talked to him in the office the other day when you were up visiting Mrs. Tuckmire. I asked him if he’s ever been in love.” Melanie looks away, nibbling her bottom lip.
I now seem to have a rusty hacksaw slid between some of my major organs. If she says another sentence, it’s going to wobble and slip sideways. “It’s none of my business. Or yours for that matter, Melanie Sasaki.”
“It was the way he laughed at the question that made me feel really … sad. He said he didn’t have it in his DNA to love someone properly and forever.” This sounds a lot like a warning and I prickle with embarrassment. She begins walking back to the office. “Remember your shopping list,” is what she calls over her shoulder. “No bingeing.”
It’s a timely reminder because a car cake is now all I want. I’d make it real romantic, up at a lookout, the city lights sparkling below. All my buttons and zips loosened. My moans would fog that car UP.
Fast footsteps approach. Teddy is jogging along the path, trailed by Renata on her scooter. I walk out to greet them. “What’s happening?” Teddy gives me a friendly eyebrow raise and jogs right on past, my heart hot on his heels.
“He got sassy with me, so I’ve decided he needs to get some energy out. Do a lap of the lake, I’m watching you.” Renata watches with evil satisfaction. His back is straight and the entire effect is of light ease. His hair gleams like a black cherry. I need to stop noticing any of him. But: Teddy’s in good shape.
“I don’t know about that,” Renata says. (I said that out loud? Oh no.) “He makes an awful lot of fuss about his morning start time so I’m overhauling his lifestyle. He’s making himself a kale and tofu smoothie after this.”
“Such cruelty.”
“I’m a wonderful employer,” Renata defends herself. When she says, slow and sly, “Well, well,” I realize I’ve been watching Teddy for probably an entire minute without replying.
Even with Renata’s speculative eyes on me, I can’t stop myself. He’s so interesting. An eye magnet. He’s the only thing worth staring at. He’s come across a pair of residents walking on the path; now he’s jogging backward slowly as he talks to them. His laugh rings out across the water, right through me.
“Well, well,” Renata repeats. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
I wrench my eyes off him and wave at Mrs. Penbroke as she passes us on her scooter. “Don’t forget, Stitch and Bitch is on soon.”
“I won’t, Ruthie,” Mrs. Penbroke calls back. “I’m bringing my needlepoint. And something to bitch about.” She gives Renata a hard stare.
“Two dollars for the fund-raising tin, too, if you can please.” Knowing how much the residents drink, my fund-raising for the Christmas party starts on New Year’s Day.
“Focus,” Renata snaps at me, tapping the arm of her sunglasses on her scooter. “I heard from a little bird that you are putting yourself on the meat market shortly. She’s asked me to create a look-book for your makeover.” Renata looks me up and down. “How do you feel about the design direction at Valentino?”
Dammit, Melanie. Renata will spill everything to Sylvia.
“Yes, it’s true, I was thinking of starting to date, but the new owners of Providence are conducting a big review of our management processes, and Sylvia is away almost until Christmas. I’ll be focused on the review PDC has asked me to do.” Listen to me, being responsible. “I’ve also got the Christmas party to organize. You’ve never come to it, but it’s a huge event. I don’t think I can handle everything.” As I say it out loud, I realize it’s true. “I’ve got no experience in trying for a work-life balance.”
“You’re a smart girl. You can do everything, and besides, you’ve already got a crush. Here he comes.”
“Let me guess, another lap,” Teddy says and jogs past before she can reply. I feel a shimmer of energy when he passes me.
“You cannot imagine the satisfaction one feels in moments like that,” Renata says as she pretends to hold binoculars up. “It’s like my horse is out in front at the Kentucky Derby. I raised him from a foal, and now look at him go.”
“I don’t have a crush on Teddy. He’s nothing like what I’d go for, or vice versa.” I’m scared to ask this. “Is he going to last?”
“He might need to walk if he gets a stitch.”
“You know what I mean.”
Renata says with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately, I think he may complete two weeks of employment.”
“Isn’t he doing your chores and laundry?” I have to hold the words in: He’s helping you. Accept the amazing thing dropped into your life, you silly old woman. I suppose the same could be said for me, being blessed with Melanie.
“He’s depressingly competent at all that,” is all Renata will say before she changes gears. “May I give you an elderly person life lesson? Good. Life is only bearable if you have someone attractive to complain to. If I didn’t have my Aggie, I would not have survived the 1990s. Karl Lagerfeld, I will see you in hell.”
I laugh. “Okay. Thanks for the advice.”
She nods over at the lake. “You remind me so much of Aggie. She’s made of the same stuff as you. That’s how I know you will have very hurt feelings when this one gets the keys to his tattoo studio and rides off five hours in some direction without so much as a backward glance.”
“I hope I find someone who suits me. I’d like to have someone attractive to complain to when I’m your age. Which is not old,” I rush to clarify.
Renata pats my arm. “I am as old as dirt. Here he comes, sounding very unfit. He’s put in the effort on his so-called last lap. Little does he know— ”
Teddy says as he passes, huffing athletically: “One more, I’m getting a runner’s high.”
Renata is equal parts impressed and annoyed. “I really need to get smarter with this one.”
“And I really need to get ready for the Stitch and Bitch,” I say, but of course it’s no use. She rolls the cuffs of my shirt up to each elbow. Tug, the skirt is pulled up higher. She’s accepted her role as fashion adviser in Melanie’s Sasaki Method. She releases two of my shirt buttons.
“Buy a size down. And this is your natural waist. Get some big belts, cinch everything in here.” She draws a line on me. “What do you have against new things, anyway? Don’t they pay you here?”
“I worked in a church thrift store so I know brand-new stuff gets donated. It’s better for the environment. And yes, I’m on a budget.”
Renata tugs at my hair elastic. It’s difficult for her and in these moments of struggle, I feel her frailty acutely. It’s the only reason I submit myself to her like this. She’s a tiny little loudmouth, but she’s also stuck in a ninety-one-year-old body against her will.
With more tenderness than I ever thought her capable of, Renata says, “Look at yourself. Any young fellow would be lucky to have you. And when you find him, he’ll never let a good girl like you go.”
I turn and see my reflection in the window of the rec center. Renata can work small miracles. Maybe I can picture myself, standing outside a bar, raising my hand in greeting as a man walks toward me. Ruthie? Nice to meet you at last. You look nice. “Thank you. I think so too.”
Teddy is now in front of us, hands on knees, panting.
Renata instructs him: “I want specifics on the physical sensations you’re feeling. I haven’t jogged since the eighties. Or the seventies. The sixties.” She racks her brains. “Ever.”
“Like a warm burning, but it’s so good,” Teddy puffs, rubbing his hands on his thighs. His clothes are steamed onto his body now. “Like I can’t get the air deep enough. I’m all hot, I can’t see straight.” He’s talking down to the pavement. My presence is still unacknowledged.
What an unexpected treat to see color in his cheeks and glittery specks of sweat on his brow. Is this exact kind of breathing what I’d hear through our wall? I have never thought as much about sex as I have in the past few days. I try to pull my shirt back into place and Renata spanks me with her sunglasses hard enough that they break.
“Get that,” she says to Teddy, and he seems only too happy to collapse to his knees. “When we get back, I’m going to dictate a letter for you to type up. We’ll address it to the current creative director at Céline. Dear Sir. Quality is down on your sunglasses.”
“Sure,” Teddy says, gathering the pieces. Then he finally looks up.
All I can think of to say is, “Are you recovering?”
He’s really not. The makeover has astonished him. His eyes are on the deep triangle of breast skin exposed to Renata’s solar nemesis. Arms, waist, hair, he’s not even blinking as he moves from one part to the next. His chest is rising and falling.
Right in this moment, I’m extraordinary.
