Chapter 3
“Mary Louise, I think you’d better get up here.”
It was Dottie. Mary Louise had to pass on their usual Wednesday morning pickleball due to a dentist appointment to take care of a loose crown. Quickly glancing at her watch, she saw it was 12:10 so Dottie must still be at the Y.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is someone hurt?”
“Nothing life threatening. An incident between Beverly and Charles. I think you could help to calm things down.”
Mary Louise had just been surveying the cans of soup in her pantry trying to ascertain which would be the least offensive to her sore mouth, but that would have to wait.
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
It took Mary Louise exactly seven minutes to get to the parking lot, and another three to find a safe parking place where she felt her car had the best chance of avoiding the door bangers and people who didn’t know how to park. She had been an eye witness to several incidents in this parking lot of people doing damage and simply driving off.
Luckily her friend Fay was manning the front desk. Her access card was in her small gym bag on the bench in the mudroom at the house.
“Fay, I…”
“Upstairs in the yoga room,” Fay said.
“Thanks,” said Mary Louise and made her way to the stairs.
The door to the yoga room swooshed as Mary Louise pushed her way in. Dottie and Beverly were in the corner by the window. Beverly was madder than a hornet. Dottie was doing her best to calm her, but it was like using a squirt gun on a bonfire.
“What happened?” Mary Louise asked Dottie.
“I just couldn’t take him any more!” said Beverly.
Mary Louise looked at Beverly, then back to Dottie who did not disappoint, giving her signature shoulder shrug.
“Yep,” said Dottie. “She whacked him in the side of the head with her pickleball paddle.”
“Beverly!” exclaimed Mary Louise.
“He wouldn’t shut up. So I shut him up alright.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it, one eyebrow lifted and one firm nod of her head to indicate she’d do it all over again if given the chance.
“Beverly is banned from pickleball for a week, and permanently if it happens again,” said Dottie.
“And what about Charles?” asked Mary Louise.
“What about Charles?” growled Beverly.
“How long is he banned?”
“You mean Prince Charles?” said Dottie. “They laid this whole thing on Beverly.”
#
Beverly could not remember the last time she had been so angry. Who did that jackass think he was? And why didn’t he just leave her alone? He had staked his claim with the advanced players and essentially shut Beverly out of their elite club. Now he was mucking around during the 11:00 hour, strutting around like a peacock and talking condescendingly to everyone, especially the newbies. Yes, the newbies could certainly annoy the hell out of her and she did purposely avoid them, but she was never as rude to them as Charles was.
He had deserved that whack in the face, and if she had it to do all over again she would follow up the whack in the face with a kick in the balls, even if it meant she was banned from the Y forever.
Dottie and Mary Louise had moved over to the window and were speaking in low tones. They were probably hatching a plan to call the men in the white coats and have her taken away. Maybe they should. Did they even do that any more? Sneak up on unsuspecting crazy people who had whacked someone in the head and then force them into a straight jacket? Then cart them away?
Probably not.
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Without intending to, now she could recall the last time she had been this angry. It had been at her husband, Lloyd. Suddenly her hatred of Charles came into focus. Physically they were nothing alike. That’s why it had taken Beverly so long to make the connection.
It was the attitude. The misogynistic, condescending, prickish attitude. In that arena, they were identical. Somehow making that connection calmed Beverly. The “why” that had been nagging at her for so long was finally answered. Not only was Lloyd always right, he would beat you down with it. If you pointed at the blue sky out the window and told him it was blue, he would not only come up with some obscure, backwards facts or logic to dispute you, he would also not let up until you felt like an absolute and complete moron for even suggesting that the sky was blue.
Beverly wished that Lloyd was still around, only to have the opportunity to get him and Charles together to see which one would win an argument. She could imagine them together standing face-to-face. Like the old Linda Richmond Coffee Talk skits on Saturday Night Live, she would say something like, “Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal was neither new, nor a deal. Discuss.” Or, “The chickpea is neither a chick, nor a pea. Discuss.” Neither of them would give up until one of their heads exploded.
Lloyd had been controlling and manipulative, and she had been too young and too naive to know how to handle him. She hadn’t learned how to defend herself and stand up for herself. He was a few years older than her with a good job. They had met at a backyard barbeque. Beverly thought he was all right, but nothing special. When her father detected mild interest on Lloyd’s part, he went to work doing everything he could to push them together. Beverly felt very much like it was just a ploy to get rid of her. She knew she could be a handful, but isn’t that what real men wanted? Men like John Wayne? He and Maureen O’Hara were the perfect match in The Quiet Man, and even later in Big Jake, their strong wills were what attracted them most to each other. Lloyd was no John Wayne but he and her father had eventually worn her down. Her mother had a talk with her and explained as gently as possible that her prospects were limited, and getting weaker as each year passed. She’d never been the smartest girl at school. She knew that. She wasn’t the most attractive girl at school either. The kindest way her mother could put it was that she was “a handsome girl,” which meant she had strong features and a stout figure that were not ever pictured in the fashion magazines.
She was the youngest of four, and her parents could not justify spending the money to send her to college. She had pretty much failed at every job she had ever attempted until she became a lifeguard at one of the local pools. Being outside with no A-Z tasks to complete suited her very well. Unfortunately it wasn’t a full time career. So she finally caved and ran headlong into the biggest mistake of her life.
But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? After Lloyd was gone, she vowed to never let another man push her around and bully her like her father and Lloyd had. She went back to school and got a kinesiology degree. So she’d be goddamned if she was going to let some pickleball pimp push her around.
She took several deep breaths, calming herself down even further. Mary Louise shot a worried glance in her direction. Beverly could not recall a single instance when Mary Louise had lost her cool or gotten upset. She took everything in stride and moved along about her business. When her husband died, she made all of the arrangements including catered food for after the service. She had even done that perfectly, only ordering a lunchmeat and cheese tray plus a fruit and veggie platter knowing how many people would come bearing casseroles and desserts. It struck Beverly that she could not even recall a time when Mary Louise had uttered so much as a “damn,” never mind the heavy hitting cuss words. Dottie insisted Mary Louise was too calm, like a duck gliding on the water while underneath her feet were going like crazy. She said Mary Louise kept stuffing things down like garbage in a garbage can, and one day it was going to explode into a helluva mess.
Dottie, on the other hand, could cuss like a sailor and often did. She attributed it to growing up with five brothers, two of whom had actually been sailors in the Navy. Beverly recalled her getting riled a time or two over the years but her temper was nothing like Beverly’s.
As Dottie and Mary Louise pensively approached her, she smiled at them.
“You old ladies hungry?”
Dottie and Mary Louise looked at each other in confusion as they witnessed the steam coming from the top of Mt. St. Beverly visibly dissipating.
“You don’t need me to run home and see if I can find you a Xanax?” asked Dottie.
“No,” said Beverly. “I’m over my fit. I’m Italian, remember?. I get mad fast, but it usually doesn’t last.”
“Usually,” said Dottie, rolling her eyes.
Beverly ignored her and said, “Let’s go get some lunch. How about the brewery? I could use a nice cold beer.”
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