Club Sandwich (19 page)

“Brian wouldn’t admit this, but I think he could trace his love of food to the church.”

“I know I can.”

“So what about your parents? They still active in your life?” I sure am nosy.

“My mom lives with me. She’s calmed down a bit. Just a bit. More like she’s resigned herself to the life I lead. Of course, she tells me she’ll never stop praying for me, and I have to admit, sometimes that’s a comfort.”

I think of Mom. “Is she healthy?”

“Not at all. I’m taking care of her.”

Sounds familiar. “Young child and ailing mother. I can relate.”

“I know. It’s why I didn’t mind coming tonight. Brian says you’re still really religious, which isn’t my thing anymore, but I figured we’d at least have that in common.”

“Yep, the sandwich generation.”

“Never heard it called anything before.”

“Yeah, well sometimes you’re the lunchmeat and sometimes you’re the bread. Right now, we’re the lunchmeat.”

She leans against the counter as I arrange sausages around the sauce bowl. “I think I’m spiced ham.”

Ha! “I’m baloney.”

“Better than head cheese.”

“Who eats that stuff anyway?” I hand her the tray of sausage and grab the chips and salsa. “Ready for a little Johnny Depp?”

“Who isn’t?”

That sure is the truth.

Brian yells, “Ive? Can you bring Mom a cup of tea while you’re at it?”

“Okay!”

The kids are climbing all over him. Why don’t I invite him over more?

“Thanks, dear!” Mom. In her voice a tremolo of excitement sings, and I’m happy for her. Maybe things will start turning around for the Starling clan.

Before I forget, I place the new Bible under Brian’s keys. Not that I deserve to, for I know who I am and what I am. But if a sinner like me can’t pass the buck on to God, then I really don’t know my going-outs from my coming-forths.

Oh my. I’m glad I checked the coffeepot before I went to bed. Mom set it up but without water and instead of setting the timer, she turned it on. I think I saved the pot, though. I also found a bag of chips in the fridge.

The next morning I’m surprised to see Brian already at the restaurant. Excuse me, the bistro. He’s pulling the bread and rolls for the day out of the freezer.

“Hey bro.”

“Hey Ive. Nice little gig last night. Thanks.”

“You’ve got a great gal there.”

“Oh yeah. I’m going to do my best not to screw this one up.”

“Bri, we need to talk about the DUI.”

He stiffens. “Dani’s getting me through it.”

“I haven’t told Mom.”

“I didn’t think you had. Thanks.”

“Are you getting help?”

He turns to me. “I’m forty years old. It’s my business, Ivy, okay?”

I want to tell him I’m worried that if he doesn’t stop this stuff, I’ll be the one picking up the pieces, but I can’t. I’ve got to leave what dignity remains, not make this about me. Maybe inside of him a strength gathers, and he’ll do the right thing on his own. I can’t be everyone’s savior, right?

“Got it. I’m here if you need me, Bri.”

I pour my cup of coffee, pull out my devotional, and sit at the window table. It’s raining today. But two thirty is coming!

Flannery, our waitress, arrives a little early. She wraps her apron around her waist. “Listen, don’t worry about a thing when your friends arrive. I’ve got it all covered.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll just jump up when I need to.”

“Are you kidding me? Hey, you don’t get opportunities just to hang very often.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I hate to say it, but yeah.” She looks at her watch, then leans forward. “You’ve got something stuck between your front teeth.”

“Oh great.”

Life can be so charming.

In the bathroom, I dig through my purse, put on a little blush and some fresh lipstick, and actually find a pair of dangling earrings
I threw in there months ago. They’re too heavy, but I don’t need them for long.

Lou’s already sitting down at the table near the back corner. “Hey Ive-O!”

“Hi Lou. Want something to drink?”

“Just some ice water.”

Flannery says, “I’ve got it! Ivy, what do you want?”

“A Coke?”

“Sure thing.”

I sit down. “This feels weird.”

“You’ve got yourself a gem there in that girl. I may steal her from you someday.”

“Just wait until Rusty comes back home.”

Lou rolls her eyes.

“Don’t say it.”

“Ive, when are you going to say what needs to be said?”

“Look, if he doesn’t want to be with me, he doesn’t.”

“So what are you sticking it out for?”

“The kids.”

Dear God. I actually said it out loud. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even said that inside my own head before.

Lou reaches for one of the breadsticks Flannery sets down with our drinks. “Someone needs to give Rusty a good bop on the head.”

“I’m in more than a pickle, I think.”

“You have no biblical grounds to leave him.”

“Believe me, I know. And I can’t help but think, ‘Is this it? Is this what I get from the wheel of life?’ I mean, will my entire life be spent picking up the garbage so Rusty can do what he wants?”

Lou nibbles the breadstick, then sets it down. “Ive-O, that’s pretty much life for most women if they’d care to admit it.”

“It isn’t for you.”

“Neil is a simple guy. Artsy types are never simple.”

“I should’ve tried harder to keep Tom Webber.” We laugh. Tom Webber still lives with his mother and manages a shoe store.

What was I thinking back then? I knew Mitch would have dated me had I given him the slightest encouragement. It wasn’t like he was a geek. Mitch oozed coolness, athleticism, and smarts.

I observe him from across the table. Dressed casually in khakis and a madras plaid shirt, he laughs with such ease and speaks with such confidence and listens with such attention. What was that supermodel thinking?

Oh yeah. The supermodel. Even with this lipstick and these earrings, I’m probably about as close to her as Ralph Nader is to the presidency.

We reminisce and drink wine, and soon the dinner rush begins. “You guys sit. I’ve got to get back to work.”

I hate my life.

An hour later Mitch stops at the register. “You’ve got a nice place here, Ivy. By all appearances, you’ve really done well for yourself.”

“You too, Mitch.”

He shrugs. “I’ve got to wonder if there’s more, though. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

He smiles with half of his mouth. “Anyway, thanks for the nice time. Tell Brian the food was great.”

I jerk my head toward the kitchen door. “Peek in and tell him yourself. He’ll be glad to see you.”

A few seconds later I hear great peals of laughter ringing from the kitchen. Mitch seems to do that sort of thing, and though I try not to let it, my heart leaps, and I feel sixteen again.

B
renda flags me down after I drop Trixie off at her Sunday-school room. “I’ve got the greatest idea!”

“Okay. Spill it on the way to the coffee maker. I had no time to fix a cup this morning.”

She takes my arm, all high-school-like, and I’ve got to admit, I like it. I feel so starved for affection. And Rusty called yesterday and told me his normal September visit has to wait until Christmas. I said, “Whatever.” And he didn’t like that. And I didn’t care.

After the talk with Mitch, I decided to start building a life without Rusty, and it feels great. Hey, he’s chosen his path; now I’ve got to pick out my own if this is going to work. Or more to the point, if I’m going to survive. Nowadays I have to face the possibility that my marriage just might not make it.

“I’ve got a great idea for a new women’s group.”

Fabulous.

She pours me a coffee, the dear. “You know, you’re not the only one caught between an aging parent and children who need raising. It’s happening more and more.”

“Yeah, the sandwich generation, they call it.”

“I know. Isn’t that cute?”

Cute? “Uh, yeah?”

“Your situation got me thinking. So I sat down and made a list—want to sit down? My legs are killing me. I packed boxes all day yesterday.”

“Sure.”

Our church built its own canteen. We take a booth.

“Do you know there are ten other women in your situation here at our church alone?”

“Really?”

“Yes, and that’s just what I can come up with off the top of my head.”

I really need to get more involved. “I had no idea.” Too true.

“So I was thinking of starting a support group and calling it Club Sandwich! Isn’t that cute?”

Oh yeah. Everything’s so cute. Snap out of your mood, Ivy. Brenda loves you. “Definitely.”

“So when’s a good time for you?”

“I’m pretty busy. You know, Brenda, I don’t mean to throw cold water, but the last thing our church needs is another Bible study group. What if we make it an outreach sort of thing instead? I’m sure there are women out there who need to know God’s along for the ride if they’d just invite Him.”

She knits her brows, licks her lips, then raises up. “You’re right! Kill two birds with one stone!”

“Let’s do this: let’s put an ad in the
Towson Times
and go from there.”

“I’m on it.”

Oh great. One more thing.