Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

overstuffed damask sofas have been pushed aside and replaced withuncomfortable, backless wooden cubes, to reflect the Jewish tradition ofdepriving oneself of luxury while in mourning. We select two of these stoolsnear a huge bay window and sit overlooking the English garden.

“That’s a big day you’ve got planned, Kat. Divorced andunemployed all in one shot. Maybe you want to hold off for a few weeks? Clearyour head first?”

Kat gives me a tired smile. “How long have I beencomplaining about my job?”

The answer is: for as long as I’ve known her. “Fair enough.”

“I’m going to resign effective June, so I’ll finish outthe year, and give the demented-stration some time to fill my position.”

“That’s mature of you. It will also give you some time tothink about next steps,” I add.

“I’ve thought,” Kat says. “Next steps are planned.” In herusual fashion, however, she is not immediately forthcoming with the rest of theparagraph. She takes a bite of a bagel and chews it slowly.

“Oh, c’mon!” I say. “Out with it.”

“Simple,” she says. “I’m doing what generations of failedO’Connells do when the mainland gets to be too much. I’m going home.”

I think of Kat’s father and four brothers, weather-beatenNew Englanders who spend entire summers on top of houses, fixing shingles andpainting trim. When the seasons change, they move indoors, drinking beer inpubs until the first sign of daffodils brings them back into the light. “Homehome?” I ask. “Nantucket?”

“Yeah. Ever since my mom died last year, I’ve been missingthe island. You know what they say, pour sea salt on the wound to help it heal,or whatever.”

“I think that’s probably the opposite of what they say.”

“Then it should definitely work for me.”

I take a deep breath and let it go. “So, you’re sure.”

She nods, chews, and swallows. Her green eyes speakvolumes of the things she can’t say, retelling the stories of the decade we’vespent together as teachers and friends.

“You’re not just going home to drink, are you?”

“No. Yes. My sisters-in-law are opening a yoga studio inan old barn out in Cisco. The guys have been refurbishing it.”

“So…you’re gonna do lots of yoga?”

“Teach, dumbass. I’m going to teach yoga.”

“Oh! That’s perfect! Aligning the chakras and all!”

“I’m putting Varka’s bull to good use.” She smileswistfully.

I hug her tightly, which is awkward with our plates ofdeli and our seated positions on these benches. But even with our knees rubbinginto each other’s, and with the promise of a calmer, more centered life aheadfor Kat, I still manage to feel overwhelmingly sad.

There are so many types of loss, I realize, closing myeyes as we rock back and forth in our embrace, and so many ways to mourn.

I pull away from Kat and steady my plate on my lap,studying her face, trying to memorize it.

“I’ve always wanted to try this,” I say, reaching out andtaking one of her curls in my fingers. She looks at me oddly, but lets mecontinue. I pull the curl out straight, watching the hair extend far past hershoulders, testing to see how long it can really reach. Finally, I let go andwatch the wave instantly tighten back up.

“I love you, Kitty-Kat.”

Her eyes are brimming with tears, but she blinks themback. “Weirdo. Would you like a lock of my hair for your memory chest?”

Which is her way of telling me that she loves me, too.

I dab my eyes with a crumpled tissue from my pocket andpass it to Kat. Then I deftly change the subject.

“Oh—I almost forgot—whatever you do tomorrow when youspeak to Martha, do not admit to being with me last week. I spoke to herabout my absence and she totally doesn’t know that you were in Miami.”

“A benefit of her lack of Internet savvy, I guess.”

“And…Shay?” I ask.

“That’s it. End of story.”

“Really?”

Kat shrugs. “I mean, I’m grateful that I had this week,fucked up as it was. With you and Jodi. With Shay. And now I’m grateful to bemoving on, whatever that means for me.”

We both sniffle ourselves back to normal.

“I, for one, am grateful for the faraway land of NovaScotia and the wonderful smoked salmon it has given the world,” Lenny says,joining us and trying unsuccessfully to fold his long body down onto one of theboxes. He gives up and remains standing, towering above us.

“Where’s Tim?” I ask.

“Still talking to Doug in the limo,” Lenny says. “They’rejust finishing up some specifics about the job.”

“Thanks, Len,” I say. “When you said you were going tohelp Doug’s company, I thought you meant…” I trail off. “Like…you know…” I’mgetting a little choked up just thinking about how much help he really justgave to Doug and, by proxy, to me and my family. Having a working relationshiplike that with Tim Cubix’s production company is bigger than anything a bankcould do to help Doug’s finances. It will give him actual work—excitingprojects—and connections to others who might require his services too.

I think our Tudor is safe.

“I know.” He smiles. “It was the least I could do, Lauren.I mean, I really fucked up, coming to see you in Miami and all.” He shakes hishead ruefully. “I’m glad I could do something right for your family.”

“Amen to that,” Kat says.

“Jodi!” Lee calls, much too loud for the particularlysomber circumstances under which we are here. His voice carries through thewide rooms and echoes, bouncing off the twelve-foot ceilings. We all kind ofjump at the surprisingly accusatory tone embedded in those two syllables.

“Coming!” Jodi sings back, apparently not at all ruffledby her husband’s bark. She sails down the stairs in yet another black ensemble,her now-dry hair fanning out behind her dramatically, recently applied lipgloss sparkling.

My curiosity piqued, I turn to the sound of their voicesin the front hall and notice Claudine, Jodi’s housekeeper-slash-babysitter,quickly grab her jacket out of the closet and skedaddle toward the front doorjust as Jodi reaches the bottom step. “I’m so sorry,” Claudine says, turningback to Jodi with one hand on the doorknob, “I didn’t know.” Then she boltsthrough the front door like a drunken teen leaving the darkened playgroundmoments before the cops arrive.

“What is she talking about?” Jodi asks, as the front doorslams shut.

Lee’s