The Land of Mango Sunsets

  “What’s the main course?” Mother asked.

  “Roasted goat,” I said.

  “Great beard of Moses! Are you serious?” Mother said.

  “It’s a Jamaican specialty,” Aunt Diana said.

  “Well, I am sure glad Cecelia isn’t here!” Liz said.

  “Who’s Cecelia?” Uncle David said.

  “Miss Josie’s pet goat,” Harrison said.

  “I think I’ll ask the bride to dance,” Joseph said, and stood to leave us.

  We went down the line of who was to dance with whom, and just about the time the roasted goat was before us, the band mercifully played a tango. Mother looked at Harrison and they went right out to the dance floor and began slowly at first. Little by little, people left the floor and stood on the side to watch them. They were beautiful together and my mother seemed like a young girl. The photographer took plenty of pictures.

  Kevin looked across to me.

  “Want to join them?”

  “Sure! Why not?”

  Well, by now you know, knowing Kevin and me as you do, that we had prepared a routine that was a little more dramatic than the norm. We let Mother and Harrison have the inside perimeter of the floor and we began at the opposite end, taking the outside edges. Walking like big cats, the music filling us with sensual passion—such as it was between two people of our opposite persuasions—but never mind that. We were hot. The band got excited and extended the song. Every eye in the room was watching. Harrison and Kevin became competitive with each other, and in minutes I could see that Mother was beginning to tire. I had only the treadmill to thank for my endurance.

  But then I saw Harrison leading Mother over to us and he said to Kevin, “I think our Miss Josephine needs to rest for a moment. Would you mind if I cut in, and could you escort her back to her seat?”

  “It would be a pleasure, sir!”

  As Mother left the dance floor on Kevin’s arm, the band stopped playing and applauded her. Then, in what had to be the most thrilling moment of acclaim Mother had known in decades, every single guest stood and every waiter stopped what they were doing and applauded her, too. The band took their seats, began a new tango, and it was up to Harrison and me to try to maintain the level of entertainment on our own. We stood apart and then turned our heads to each other and began the walk. Then came the embrace. Harrison had obviously worked a lot harder at mastering the dance than Kevin and I had, but all I to do was follow. As Harrison Ford led me around the room, a double spin here, a hooked leg over his, and a dangerously low dip there, I knew I would have followed him right through the gates of hell as long as they were playing a tango. I could feel my skirt swirl and the heat of his breath on my neck. The song was coming to a close and I noticed there was a flower on the floor and then another. People were so excited they were pulling flowers from my centerpieces and throwing them to us in appreciation. It was madness! In a grand dip, I picked up a rose—yes, a rose—and to complete the cliché, I put it between Harrison’s clenched teeth. The camera was flashing again, our family and guests laughed, and Harrison and I laughed so hard, we had to stop dancing. Everyone clapped again for us as they had for Mother, and we camped it up, blowing kisses and taking bows. Then we tangoed off the floor to our table.

  “God, that was better than sex!” Harrison said in an unguarded moment.

  “I didn’t know you could dance like that!” Liz said.

  “It’s all about the dress,” Kevin said.

  “You’re probably right. How are you feeling, Mother? Are you all right?”

  “I am perfectly fine. Anyway, every other person here tonight is a doctor or something, so this would be the perfect time to collapse, don’t you think?”

  Her remark was directed to Aunt Diana.

  “What do I think? I think you and that girl of yours can dance, Miss Josie, honey! That’s what I think!”

  “I think dropping dead at your grandson’s wedding would be bad news, Mother. Memorable, to be sure. But not great.”

  “Don’t make me cut a switch,” she said, and laughed.

  The band had resumed dance-party music and my eye caught Judith dancing with one of Charles’s younger associates. She had removed her jacket and you could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra, since the back of her dress was cut low almost to that part of her backside one dreads viewing when the plumber is working under your sink. This crack in the wall, so to speak, led me to assume, as did all others who were held hostage by the raunchy spectacle before us, that she was sans panties as well.

  “She must be drunk as a skunk,” Liz said.

  “Completely toasted,” Kevin said.

  “Ladies don’t dance like that in Kingston,” Diana said.

  “Especially if you’re the stepmother of the groom!” Mother said.

  “Her maternal instincts aren’t exactly top-of-the-line,” Harrison said, and we all snickered.

  There were a lot of people dancing, so I imagine it took Charles a while to see what was going on and to decide how to react to it. Judith and her partner had now moved on to the Doggie Dance, which is so popular with today’s trashy young people. It’s a dance that resembles an imitation of the act that leads to bringing puppies into the world. With a look of great disappointment on his face, Charles worked his way through the crowd with Judith’s jacket folded over his arm and interrupted them. I could not hear what was said, but I saw, as did everyone else, Judith take her jacket, return to her table for her handbag, and walk out.

  “Looks like trouble in paradise,” Kevin said.

  “Water seeks its own level,” Mother said.

  “You lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas,” Liz said.

  “Stupid people do stupid things. By the way, Mellie, do you waltz?” Harrison asked.

  “Do I waltz? What kind of a question is that?” I couldn’t waltz worth two hoots, but it was a chance to smell him some more. “Our Jamaican visitors are horrified by Judith.”

  “She should have learned to tango,” Harrison said.

  Chapter Twenty

  ALABAMA BLUES

  It was Sunday morning and you could have believed that my house was north on the compass, as everyone drifted in for one last impromptu dose of festivities and farewells. We all said to one another that if there was anything we could have done to make Charlie and Priscilla’s wedding weekend more wonderful, we couldn’t think of it. They thanked us all over and over. Except for the scandalous Judith episode, which left us wondering on what kind of quicksand Charles’s marriage stood, all else had been a dream.

  Just those few days together had been so surprisingly profound and deeply gratifying. A wedding. The bonds of my two sons and their wives were strengthened and mine with all of them, especially my precious grandchildren. I had another grandchild who would be born in December. Another heart to love was coming into the world and I would not miss a minute of it. Wasn’t it amazing what could happen when you laid down your sword and opened your arms?

  The day had begun early again. At seven-thirty that morning, the seemingly indefatigable Kevin and his team of wizards had zoomed downtown to collect the decorations and oversee the pickup of all the rentals. Liz took Harrison out for a neighborhood stroll to buy the Sunday New York Times, fresh bagels, smoked salmon, and all the other traditional fixings along with a cinnamon coffee cake for the children, brought home still warm from the oven. Mother sat between Penn and Mary on the sofa, reading children’s books to them, and they read back to her. Charlie was right there, too, teasing the children, tickling them, and doing the old trick of making quarters magically appear from behind their ears.

  Knowing I didn’t have a housekeeper, Nan and Dan packed all their belongings and stripped the beds and threw the towels in the wash. Without asking, Priscilla pitched right in to set up a breakfast buffet on the dining-room table.

  By the time Harrison and Liz returned, Allison, Diana, David, and Joseph rang the doorbell, I scrambled two dozen eggs and made a pot of grits,
and we were all gathered in my house again, pouring coffee and tea, serving food, laughing, and swapping more stories.

  Priscilla and Charlie were talking about taking a honeymoon in August when things in New York were quieter because, they joked, the sick people were out at Fire Island and in the Hamptons. That wasn’t exactly true because there were always more sick people than there were doctors, but they wanted and needed to take a vacation at some point.

  Mother invited them to come to Sullivans Island. Priscilla’s eyes twinkled with excitement and she said she would love it if Charlie would love it and Charlie said he loved anything Priscilla loved. It was, after all, only day two of the marriage. But when it was decided right then that Mother would be their honeymoon hostess, Mother was thrilled to pieces.

  “Wonderful! This gives me something grand to look forward to!”

  Between bites and sips of every goodie I could find left in the refrigerator, Diana, David, and Joseph insisted that we visit them in Jamaica.

  “We’ll show you all about Jamaican hospitality!” Diana said.

  “Me, too!” Allison said. “My family would love y’all, too!”

  “I can’t think of a thing I would enjoy more,” I said. Hold the roasted goat, I thought. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your country, seen a thousand pictures, but I’ve never actually been there.”

  “As much as you love that little island you hail from,” Joseph said, “I can’t believe you’ve never been to Jamaica! You should come and visit all the islands in the Caribbean. One is more beautiful than the next!”

  Harrison said, “Joseph? You don’t understand these people from Sullivans Island. When that sun goes down, they fall under some kind of spell and you can’t get them over the causeway!”

  Joseph slipped into the manly Jamaican accent you hear in travel ads. “Harrison, mon? You bring them down to Jamaica and we’ll have them all dancing in the moonlight, drinking some very nice rum, some island romance…you know what I am saying?”

  I wanted to say, Do I have to bring my own sombrero? Instead I said, “I think that sounds like a fabulous idea, so we’ll have to just pick a date and plan it!”

  We hugged like old friends, promised to stay in touch, and Charlie and Priscilla took them all outside to hail a cab to the airport.

  Harrison and Mother were the next to depart. Because of my concerns for her health, it upset me terribly to see her go. I knew that Harrison was going to be watching over her and that was reassuring, but I could just feel her slipping through my fingers and didn’t know how to stop it. Maybe it was just that we were aging and that was what truly bothered me.

  “It was a beautiful weekend, sweetheart,” she said to me. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I’m so proud of you, too, Miss Josie, and I’m going to miss you like mad!”

  “Then come to the island. Come as soon as you can.”

  “I will. I promise.” I hugged her like it was for the last time. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t the last time but that time itself was the point.

  I had yet to say good-bye to Harrison.

  “Okay, you. Thanks for coming and bringing Mother. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for having me. I don’t want to hear any wild tango stories about you.” He hugged me and kissed my cheek. It wasn’t much but I wasn’t expecting more.

  “That goes double for you. See y’all! Call me when you get back home so I know you’re okay?”

  When I closed the door, I leaned back against it and sighed. I was spiraling down from preparty jitters to postparty blues. All the anticipation, all the work and details, and it was over so fast! But at least there would be pictures and I had trips to plan and practically a new life lay ahead with my grandchildren.

  Kevin breezed in, and just as I was serving him the last scoop of eggs and a slice of coffee cake, the phone rang. It was Charles.

  “I’m calling to apologize,” he said.

  “For what?” I was thinking the list of things for which he owed apologies was so long, I couldn’t imagine where he would begin.

  “Well, first of all, for Judith’s behavior…”

  “Charles, you can no more control Judith’s behavior than I could yours.”

  “I deserve that. Anyway, we’re separated…as of last night. I left. Seems that she’s, um, been fooling around with one of the junior partners…”

  “The fellow she was doing the nak-nak dance with?”

  “Um, she says it’s called the grind and that’s how everyone dances these days. But yes, he’s the culprit.”

  “Let me just assure you that not everyone dances like humping doggies.” What goes around comes around, I thought.

  “I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, I’m staying at the Athletic Club and I’ve been up all night thinking about things and what a fool I’ve been.”

  Now, just what was I supposed to say? “Gee, big surprise your slut turned out to be a slut”? This was news to whom? Or how about “Oh, poor Charles, come home to me, all is forgiven”? In a pig’s eye, honey, or better yet, a goat’s! All weekend I’d enjoyed a house filled with happy people and now Mr. Misery was on line one. But I, or the Buddha within, tried to be nice.

  “Charles? Listen to me. I have everyone here and I’m sort of in the middle of cleaning up brunch and saying good-bye and this just isn’t the best time for me to talk.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize that, but of course, that’s what you would be doing now. Why don’t I call you another time, then?”

  “Sure.” In an act of supreme charity that put me on the level of, say, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, I added, “Any time. Like tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. Okay, then. Bye.”

  Kevin was standing there listening to my end of the conversation. “Let me guess…that was Charles on the phone and his wife wasn’t pretending last night?”

  “You got it. I always did try to tell him that those oranges weren’t worth the squeeze.”

  Dan, Nan, and the children were getting ready to make their exit and I welled up with tears.

  “Gosh! Look at what a sentimental old fool I’m becoming!”

  “Oh, Mom!” Nan said, and put her arms around me, and yes, she called me mom and that really turned on the waterworks.

  I reached in my pocket for a tissue.

  “I just hate to see y’all leave! I mean, I feel like I am just getting to know you all over again and now it’s time to say good-bye, and well, I just hate it.”

  Dan cleared his throat, and to my utter surprise he said, “So do we. But we’re going to do better about staying in touch and visiting each other, Mom. Nan and I talked about it. Expect a package in about a week. Zillions of pictures and your very own laptop—simple to use, I promise!”

  “My sweet son! And lovely Nan! Please take care of yourself, sweetheart.” She had had such trouble conceiving and carrying pregnancies to term, I hoped she would not do anything too strenuous that could bring on any problems.

  “Don’t worry, Momma Mellie, this baby’s as healthy as a horse! I can feel it.”

  I nodded to her and kissed her cheek. Then I knelt down to hug Mary and Penn.

  “My sweet darling grandchildren! Oh! How I’m going to miss you all so!”

  “But you’re taking us to that magic place, aren’t you?” Mary said.

  “Mango Island?” Penn said.

  Dan laughed, ruffled the hair on his son’s head, and said, “Yes! That is a splendiferous idea! Let’s all go together! Miss Josie would love it and so would we!”

  Splendiferous? See? I wasn’t the only nerd in the family.

  They finally made it out the door, which left Kevin, Liz, Priscilla, Charlie, and me to do the postmortem. Charlie and Kevin went to retrieve Harry from Liz’s apartment and Priscilla and I put away so many things I couldn’t count them. Liz had decided to commandeer the laundry and was busy transferring towels from the washer to the dryer and folding sheets. This may seem trite but I can’t begin to te
ll you how it filled me with pleasure to have Liz and Kevin, but especially Charlie and Priscilla, pitching in as though it was their home.

  Finally, the dishwasher hummed and I put the kettle on for tea. I was so bone tired that I knew a shot of strong caffeine was in order to keep me awake until bedtime.

  “Hot tea, anyone? Coffee?”

  “Great idea,” Charlie said.

  “I’ll take a gallon of coffee,” Kevin said.

  “You earned it!” I said, and everyone agreed.

  I had washed and dried my own tea service three times that weekend. As I reached for the teapot and coffeepot again, it dawned on me that I had not given Priscilla and Charlie their wedding gift.

  “Charlie? Do you have the strength left to do your poor mother one small favor?”

  “You just name it!”

  “On the floor of my bedroom closet is a huge package from Bergdorf’s. Will you bring it to me, please, dear? And there’s another one on the top shelf.”

  A minute later he stood there with the tea-service box, which was large enough to hold an air conditioner.

  “What’s in here, bricks?”

  “What in the world?” Priscilla said.

  “If you can believe this, I forgot to give you your wedding gift.”

  Charlie said, “Mom! We can’t take another thing from you! It’s too much! The ring! The dinner? All the flowers? All that you and Kevin did? Seriously!”

  “Oh, hush up and open it!” I said. “Just remember to be generous to your children someday! This is from Miss Josie.”

  I thought Priscilla would faint as she unwrapped each piece. At the end, when it was all set up on the tray on the coffee table in front of her, she was absolutely flabbergasted.

  “I do not know what to say. This is a treasure that I never would have even had the nerve to dream of owning. I promise you. I will take care of it so well.”

  “Jackpot!” Harry said from the kitchen. Priscilla was startled.

  “That’s his opinion, Charlie,” Kevin said, “and he’s usually right.”