Girl Talk

“Oh Rosie, Honey, I’m so glad you’re here. You’re not going to believe what Joe is up to now.” MayBeth started talking before the door closed behind her, and she just keeps on. “You are the only one I can talk to about this. You know that, right?”

When she receives no response, Maybeth just plows on, making herself at home, plopping down on a chair opposite of Rosie. But no sooner has she leaned back against its cushion then she is up again. “You know what? If it’s okay with you, I’m just going to pull the curtains a little tighter. I think there’s a draft in here.”

At the window she gives the cord an unnecessary tug and turns to say, “There’s that cold going around. Neither one of us need that slapping at us.”

When she’s seated again, her voice has lost its cheerful, busy tone. “Oh Rosie, this is bad. Real bad. Joe. . . Oh god . . .” She looks down and then scoots her chair closer to Rosie.

“Last night when I got home from working the late shift, he wasn’t there. Almost one o’clock in the morning. You tell me—where’s a man got to be at one in the morning?”

Of course, Maybeth knows the answer. In truth, she doesn’t want her friend to respond with it and makes a point of looking down—she doesn’t want to see Rosie’s look of pity. She quickly continues. “I know. I know. He’s no good. He’s up to something. Probably running around on me.” Maybeth gives a mirthless chuckle. “We’ve had this talk more than once. I know what you’re going to say.” She pauses to inhale deeply. “But you know what? Joe was sweet as could be when I woke up. I didn’t have the heart to be angry. He even made the coffee this morning. He’s not all bad, you know.”

Maybeth waits. Would it hurt Rosie just once to say one good thing about Joe?But no—that’s not happening. Not this time anyway. She sighs and continues. “I know you think I should throw him out, right?” A pause and then Maybeth continues in a rush, “You know, it’s easy to talk about kicking him to the curb. But seriously? I couldn’t make a go of it alone. I’d have to move. And where would I go? I’m getting too old to start over. I mean, look at me. Not exactly a spring chicken.” She flaps her arms like wings, trying for levity.

But Rosie doesn’t look, and Maybeth feels chastised. This is the dance they always do when it comes to Joe. Rosie lets her go on and on, just lets Maybeth’s words wind around until they land on the real issue.

And sure enough, the old strategy plays out now. “Oh god, Rosie, it’s not the money. We both know that. It’s just that . . . It would just feel so . . . I don’t know . . . final.”

And now it’s so still, Maybeth can hear a clock ticking and Rosie’s breathing and her own breaths as well. She feels tears gathering. “Oh Rosie, you know how it is with me. Crystal’s all grown up and out there somewhere in Nevada. And the last time we talked—eight months ago—she told me not to call. That she’d call me.” Maybeth’s voice is almost inaudible when she adds, “But she hasn’t.”

She won’t think about Crystal. There’s no point. So she says, “Joe’s all I’ve got. Well, besides you of course. I’d just lose my mind without you.”

Maybeth closes her eyes as though trying to picture who else in her life she can talk to. But every day it’s the same. Wake up, fix up something for Joe to eat later, wash her uniform, watch her shows, go work the late shift and come home exhausted. Get up and do it again. She sighs and says, “Yeah, okay, there’s people at work and we chat, but it’s just about the food in the cafeteria or the weather—always with the heat or the cold or whatever. That’s not like you and me, Rosie. What we’ve got is special.”

A silence ensues and now Maybeth wonders if she’s made Rosie uncomfortable with all this talk about how much she depends on their friendship.

Just the thought of burdening Rosie with her neediness stirs a whisper of worry in Maybeth and she starts to squirm, swiping at her wet cheeks, smoothing down her pants, examining the cuticles on her left hand. When eyes travel to her watch, she jumps up.

“Oh Honey, I have to go to work. Sorry it was all me, me, me today. Next time we’re going to talk about you, you, you, and that’s a fact.” Before leaving, she reaches out and gives Rosie’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you Rosie. You’re the best.” She sees herself to the door, and calling out, “Bye for now!” pulls it behind her.

Compared to the dimness of Rosie’s room, the glaring fluorescent lights of the hallway are always a shock. Maybeth grabs the cart she’d left in the hall just as an adjacent door opens and Carl emerges from it pulling a stretcher. Mr. Payton is on it, his emaciated form under a sheet that rises and falls ever so slightly with his weak breathing. His eyes are open but Maybeth knows he’s not seeing the stretcher’s bars or hallway lights or her.

Carl nod’s toward the door Maybeth has just closed and asks, “How’s Mrs. Morris doing?

“Rosie,” says MayBeth. “Her name is Rosie.”

Carl snorts. “You can call her ‘Rosie’ or ‘Rainbow’ or ‘Rambo.’ Fact is, she don’t know the difference. Fact is she’s just a veggie. Just like the rest of them.” He gives Mr. Peyton’s shoulder a pat and adds, “God bless ’em all.”

As he starts down the hall pushing the stretcher in front of him, he stops for a moment and calls back to Maybeth, “Hey, you seen that forecast? They’re talking about a big storm this weekend.”