Dispatches From Paradise. Shelly Gitlow

Well, it’s really nice that you came. I miss your father so much. He meant the world to me.”

      They’re thoroughly uncomfortable and look at each other. Each one wants the other to spit out whatever it is they have come here to tell me. I don’t budge. Let them stew in their own awkwardness. Finally, Tight-ass Luis clears his throat. He looks at Carmen. She gives him the “do it already” look. He clears his throat again. I look at the floor and dab my eyes with a tissue. Finally he speaks, not making eye contact with me.

      “We know that you’ve been living here with our father, but it’s our apartment now.”

      They look at me intently. I better work this. I sniffle, wipe my nose, fluff the feathers of my peignoir, and look straight at them with wide-open eyes.

      “And?”

      Not what they expected. Poor Luis looks like he’s going to cry. Carmen takes over, and boy is she snippy.

      “And you need to pack your things and move out. Now. We’re putting the condo on the market. The Realtor is on her way over. She says she already has a buyer. So you need to vacate the premises.”

      I know it’s probably futile, but I try a guilt trip.

      “Your father, may he rest in peace, would not approve of what you’re doing. We shared this home together, and he adored me. He was miserable after your mother died, if you recall. I brought him back to life. Don’t I deserve something?”

      Carmen can’t contain herself. She starts screaming at Luis in Spanish. From what I gather, she wants him to force “la puta sucia” to leave immediately. Whoa. How dare the chambermaid call me that.

      “First of all, I am not a dirty whore and second, I have nowhere to go. What am I supposed to do? Go to the Hampton Inn?”

      She’s turning red. God, I hope she doesn’t explode. She lunges at me. I step back to avoid her, and Luis grabs the whale’s flapping fins. She spits at me, but it lands on her own chin.

      “Let me go, Luis. I can’t look at that puta’s face.”

      I get out of her way, and Carmen goes into the bedroom. I watch her pull Alphonse’s things out of the closet and put them in a suitcase. She throws my clothes on the floor. This is officially serious.

      “Are you sure I can’t stay, even for a few days, Carmen dear? It’s such short notice.”

      She eyes me like I’m a lump of moldy rotten cheese. Maybe I can get Luis on my side.

      “Luis, you know, you were Alphonse’s favorite. He always said that. Please talk some sense into her. I’m only asking for a few days.”

      Carmen rolls her eyes at Luis, and he shrugs and cowers. At least he demonstrates a shred of humanity and helps me pack my bags. Watching him handle my dildos is very amusing, but I don’t snicker out loud. I’m up Shit Creek without a paddle. What am I going to do?

      My phone rings. It’s Richard. I totally forgot to call him back. I might as well see what he wants. I walk out onto the terrace and close the door. My affairs are none of their business. Luis continues to pack my bags as Carmen furiously wags her finger at him.

      “Hi, Rich. Sorry I didn’t call you back, but it’s been a crazy couple of days.”

      “Me too. Your daughter kicked me out.”

      “No way.”

      “For real.”

      “Are you okay?”

      “I’ll live. I moved in with a friend.”

      “So Liz is alone?”

      “I guess. She won’t answer my calls.”

      “Figures. My life’s a mess too. Alphonse had a heart attack.”

      “Is he okay?”

      “No. He’s gone. Just like that.”

      “Wow. I’m really sorry. Can I do anything?”

      “Actually, you’ve already helped, honey. Listen, I’ll call you some time. Take care.”

      Richard’s great. We’ve always clicked. He and I are very similar. Funny, that’s probably why Liz married him and probably why she can’t stand him anymore. I never quite got their relationship, but then again, I don’t get most relationships.

      So, maybe I can move in with Liz. She’s vulnerable now. Who am I kidding? She’ll never let me stay with her. She hates me. Not exactly hate. She’s threatened by me. I embarrass her. I’m the mother from another planet. I don’t care who likes me or doesn’t, and I don’t apologize for who I am.

      I’m comfortable with my sexuality, and she barely acknowledges that she’s a sexual being. We don’t understand each other, and we’re not simpatico. Hard to imagine she’s mine, but then again, she’s just like her father. What a prude! I had to beg him for it. Can a man be frigid? I should Google that. I didn’t think about it then, but maybe he was gay or had a mistress.

      Carmen’s in the bathroom, hurling the contents of my medicine cabinet into a garbage bag that Luis is holding. Actually it’s more like Luis is using the bag to catch the flying bottles, tubes, and spray cans. I poke my head in, and smile sweetly.

      “Are you sure I can’t stay until morning, Carmen darling? It would be such a nice gesture, in memory of your dear father.”

      Carmen just glares at me and keeps flinging. There goes my extensive collection of lubricants and stimulants.

      Everything I own is packed in my 1992 Mercedes. I could barely see through my tears and running mascara to drive here, but coming to the beach seemed like the right thing to do. The breeze and the sound and smell of the ocean have always soothed me, but not tonight. I can’t stop bawling.

      I’m gripping Alphonse’s goat mask tightly as I walk toward the water. The full moon is golden and its reflection on the water is magical. Maybe I should just end it all? Make things easy for myself. I have nothing to live for. No one. I’ve had a great life. Drowning wouldn’t be such a bad way to pack it in. Plus, if I die at fifty-five, I’ll never have to be an old bag.

      Here goes nothing. I walk deeper into the water. Oh, that’s a big wave coming. Damn it. My dress got wet, and it’s “Dry Clean Only.” Here comes another big one. I better get out, but I can’t see where I’m going. I have salt water in my eyes. Uh oh. I just bumped into someone, a big black guy with dreadlocks. He has a conga drum slung over his shoulder, and he’s heading toward a massive party on the beach.

      “Sorry. I am really sorry . . . sir”

      “No worries.”

      He pats me on the shoulder. For some reason, when he’s nice to me, I start sobbing again.

      “Why you so sad, Mrs. Lady?”

      “I lost someone.”

      “I and I know how that feel.”

      I summon up my courage and look at his face. He has piercing blue eyes. And he’s young. Way too young, but you never know how guys feel about older women. What a delicious-looking, creamy chocolate body.

      “You’re very handsome.”

      I put the goat mask up to his face and touch his rockhard chest. I’m getting hot. He pulls away, but smiles. Talk about mixed messages.

      “You’ll regret it.”

      “You don’t know me. I don’t regret anything, sweetheart.”

      “That won’t make you feel better.”

      “Oh yes, it will. I’m no good at being alone. My vibrator can’t fill the void.”

      He laughs heartily.