wearing new clothes she just bought at ann taylor. flirty little swoop of hair just above her eyes. and firehouse red lipstick.
her name was penelope.
thick, built, 50, happy, dressed like she was heading out for ladies brunch at the ritz, but swore she was just a growed up farmer’s daughter from iowa now living in maine and divorcing a man of 20 years she now wonders if she ever loved.
youre gonna hate me, she’d warn after i asked her a question.
if you never loved him, what made you wanna have three kids with the fat scad?
youre gonna hate me, but he was nice to me, she admitted.
thats all it took?
after years of being called fat and ugly – or treated that way – no matter how good she was at managing or singing or making clothes or cooking, no one appreciated her. through her teens and twenties.
she’d kick ass at work and come home to a lonely little condo.
until she ran into a man in line at the grocery store who got her number, they started dating, and he latched on.
as soon as I believed that he meant the nice things he said, i was ready, she told me. i was 30. things were already starting to come: wrinkles, grays, varicose veins. i didn’t really want to get married that quickly
but you’re going to hate me, i got knocked up and we decided to keep her. so we got married at the courthouse, she told me as we drove from universal studios to the four seasons in calabasas.
before we knew it, i had three kids and a fourth, him, sitting on my couch, incapable, or unwilling is a better word, to do anything substantial around the house.
all while saying how much he loved me. who wouldn’t love the maid who cooks cleans and pays all the bills? he had no money. i had, and still have the money.
if you two were doing it that often, you must have at least liked him a little? i asked, always looking for a love story.
you’re gonna hate me, he got me drunk all three times.
what the?
he thought i’d stay if we had a bunch of kids, she laughed, like a woman who loved her kids but didn’t consider them a burden. he, on the other hand, was expendable.
but now he won’t leave until our divorce is final.
so i am here. but you will hate me if i tell you any more.
it was such a beautiful sunny day. i had just moved my bowels in a satisfying and complete way. my water supply was good in my cup holder and my car was charged and could go another 150 miles without worry.
penelope, there’s no way i could hate you. so tell me, what on Earth did he pour that made you sooooo drunk that three kids are made?
well the girls are tequila babies and the boy is a vodka baby.
she said. and then:
i want him out of the house, i want him sober, i want him out of my life. unreasonable because i also want him to take care of the kids every other weekend because tony ive been trapped in this house in a loveless relationship where we don’t even sleep in different beds, we sleep on different floors. i hate him so much i even hate the way he watches tv. which is always.
and i hate that the boy looks just like him.
because i love that little smooshface.
the weird thing about the san fernando valley is the closer you drive to woodland hills, which was on the way to our destination, the hotter it gets. i was wondering why my AC was not pumping out the relief until I looked at the temp on the screen which read 105 degrees. but she didn’t seem to mind back there.
so wait, youre not even divorced yet and you’re blowing the alimony at the four seasons way out in calabasas?
oh i wont get any money from earl. i have the money. im spending it before he can get any more of it. he’s never made any money. it’s my farm we sold before we moved to maine. and it’s that farm that he’s gonna get half of because we got it together with my money. im an imbecile.
ok, i said, but you know theres a four seasons in beverly hills. two, actually. do you love the kardashians that much?
there was a silence. i thought maybe she was texting someone and wasn’t paying attention to me.
but that wasn’t it.
youre gonna hate me, she said. a man i met a few months ago bought me a plane ticket to la.
PENELOPE! i yelled. fake shaming her and applauding at the same time.
let me look closer at you! i said and pretended to adjust the rear view mirror.
she laughed because im telling you, she very much looked like a mom with three kids who went through hell and is catching a quick second wind out in LA.
so im staying in his hotel room. he works in the film business. he was scouting locations in maine and we met at starbucks. he’s probably married too. we know better than to bring any of that up. but he’s always on the road and his wife nags him to come home but he loves travelling.
PENELOPE! i yelled again because i was now conflicted. was she just another woman this guy was using? is that ok? she seemed happy.
well as long as he doesn’t murder you, i guess this is good, i finally said, even though i shouldn’t have said anything.
he won’t murder me, she said laughing, cleaning her new fendi sunglasses with her blouse sleeve.
this morning at 6am he got a phone call and said he was being asked by a different director to fly to h?awaii to look at a location that had just been made available. so since the room is paid for through monday, im here doing all the touristy things all my girlfriends told me to do: rodeo drive, the walk of fame, universal studios
tomorrow is venice beach
then Nobu