Loving Piper (2 page)

“Come to mama,” she sang in a lusty voice, feeling cheerier this morning as she lifted scissors to the narcissus. She knew she was loud but didn’t care, blissful to be temporarily removed from the gray no-man’s land, though the reasons for the reprieve were mysterious. The only thing that had happened was a catastrophe. Had catastrophe ever been touted as a treatment for mood disorders. That was just silly, and she knew the upswing wouldn’t last longer than the trip back into the house. Still she’d take what she could get. “This won’t hurt a bit, or not for long anyway. Hey baby, baby, baby, a cranky disposition is not a good floral quality.”

True enough, she thought as she arranged the bouquet in Deirdre’s kitchen, her good mood ebbing. She stopped, straightened and rubbed her forehead. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“I was going to ask you about that,” Deirdre said, entering the kitchen at a brisk clip and pouring herself a huge mug of coffee. “What the hell
is
wrong with you?”

Despite having just said those words herself, Piper had considered the question rhetorical was disconcerted that Deirdre didn’t argue with her. “Well, let’s see now, what could possibly be the ma—”

“I know all that, and it’s no fun, that’s for sure. But I am a GP—your GP—and something besides the house isn’t quite right. I’ve been wondering about you for a couple of months, but got busy, you know how it is. For starters, why are you talking to yourself? You’re only thirty-eight. Forty’s the golden portal into carrying on both sides of a conversation.” Deirdre positioned her laptop on the table in front of her.

“If you’re going to be like that, let me get my representative. Plumpy! Here, kitty, kitty.” Piper looked around the kitchen and found her big gray Russian Blue on a chair wedged under the table. When she pulled the chair out, Plumpy remained immobile. She squatted down, gripping his head with both hands, and touched his whiskers, which made him sneeze. “Sorry, but look at me, Plumps. Deirdre’s making some enquiries, some of those things we’ve talked about.” Piper stroked Plumpy’s substantial body and he repositioned himself and lowered his head. “Are you listening to me?” Relaxed and asleep again, he wheezed softly. Piper stood up, hands on her hips. Plumpy had reached the REM stage and was now twitching in his sleep. “So, shall I tell her that you are unavailable for comment?”

Deirdre shook her head. “Okay, I give up, what’s this all about?”

“Don’t know. There’s something wrong with me.”

Deirdre laughed. “Of course there is, Piper, that’s part of your charm.”

“Not funny.” Piper said.

“No, of course it isn’t, sorry about that. Then I’ll tell you what I see. Here, sit down for a second.” Deirdre patted the chair beside her. “I see an aimless, distracted, unenthusiastic—unhappy—person where
you
used to be. Listen, darling, when someone needs something done, who do they call? You. You’ve always worked your tail off, been merciless with any mission, good and loud in everything you’ve ever done. You’re a people person, nobody can stop you.” Deirdre thumped the table and looked Piper straight in the eye. “Plus—you’ve never indulged in soul-searching or naval-gazing, which, in my opinion, is a good thing when it comes to happiness.”

Piper slumped in her chair, feeling too low to complain about being described as what to her sounded remarkably similar to “shallow.”

“May I speak in my own defence?” Piper said. Shoulders back, she sat up and leaned toward her friend. “Of course I have a few idiosyncrasies—who doesn’t at thirty-eight. What exactly is the point of having a life of your own if you can’t indulge in a bit of aberrant behavior? So, if I end up talking to myself, or my beloved—Plumpy, that is—what is the matter with that?”

“Nothing, Piper, and I like to hear you sounding more animated—that’s more like you. But something is a bit out of whack, isn’t it?” Deirdre powered up the laptop.

Piper knew Deirdre was right. They were both right. Something had changed, and it had happened so slowly she had not detected anything different at first. Then she had found her new and unfamiliar state building momentum. She was becoming an outsider in her own life, and without the usual resources she would bring to a dilemma. She felt her forehead; maybe she’d contracted a virus, something insidious that attacked the foundation of a person’s character. Could there be a virus called longing? If only she could figure out what was making her feel so incomplete.

She jumped up and headed for the sink. The flowers needed rearranging before there was any serious talk. She spotted a larger, multicolored glass vase on the window ledge and transferred the bouquet to it, remaining true to her maxim that a flower’s last moments shouldn’t be crowded ones. She’d better not tell that to Deirdre.

“Deirdre to Piper…come in…okay, darling, that’s enough,” Deirdre said, suddenly serious. “Leave those flowers alone and tell me
what’s going on.”

Piper sighed and crisscrossed the room two more times before seating herself across from Deirdre. “In a nutshell…someone else seems to have been leading my life—taken up residency where I used to…reside, and whoever it is…botching it. I’m not happy.” The tears came with the words, Piper’s defences melting. “I’m lonely
.
I’m
feeling unloved.
And all this does not feel like it is the real me. What am I supposed to do?”

“I see. I’m sorry, Piper, I should have noticed.” Deirdre’s medical tone warmed up. “I’ve been distracted myself with the new program the hospital dumped on me.” Then she resumed tapping on the keyboard. “Well, that’s water under the bridge. Where there’s a problem, there’s a resolution, so let’s start with the obvious—how’s your appetite?”

Piper thought a moment before answering. “I’d say normal. You know I love to eat—still do.” She smoothed her hands down her sides over her waistline. How long had that bulge been there…?

Deirdre was no-nonsense. “Good—and has your sleep pattern changed?”

“No, or if it has, I’m sleeping a little longer,” Piper said, and yawned.

“Okay. And school, anything happening there that I don’t know about?”

“No, school’s pretty good.” Piper took another moment. “We have a couple of new teachers this year. They’re sweet, which goes a long way in that asylum. And my brats are pretty wonderful, actually, even this close to the end of the year. Can you remember being ten years old? I can’t, but anyhow...no teaching regrets today.”

“Anything about your love life that you’ve been keeping under wraps?”

Piper sputtered. “Hardly…you know as much about it as I do.” She stood up and began to pace again, her emotions surging. “I don’t even remember what a man feels like…that’s how long it’s been. And I don’t know where that appetite has gone, so it probably doesn’t matter, anyway.” Piper heard her own words and hung her head. “Oh, I just don’t know what I really want, Deirdre.”

“That’ll change someday. Hmm, what about Kathleen, she’s finished her year. I haven’t heard much about the last semester. How did it go?”

“Good—as far as I can tell. I know what you think about her choosing engineering, but she loves it. And her summer co-op seems to be working out. Never thought I’d hear her say she loves drafting, but…”

The only sound was the clicking of keys. Deirdre was intent as she scanned the screen in front of her.

“Hold on a minute, Piper, I’m taking a quick look at your medical profile, just to make sure I didn’t miss something. Not long since we did your blood work, and everything is okeydokey there, a great big boring normal—which really is great.” She lowered the top and pushed the device away from her. “Now back to what’s going on with you. I’m still feeling a little out of touch. Salsa dancing, sorry I never go with you anymore—how’s that these days?”

“Haven’t been for a while.”

“Uh-huh, I see. Still kick-boxing?”

“Not exactly, well, no.”

“Singing lessons…?” Deirdre swallowed loudly and lowered her head.

“Not funny, and no, they, um, didn’t fit in. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I shouldn’t tease you, it’s great to have a voice that’s—” she cleared her throat “—so unique. So I’m supposing you’re engaged in less physical activity than
in the past?”

“I guess so, but I still run…sometimes,” Piper said, and started to jog on the spot.

Deirdre leaned back in her chair. “Okay, then, so let’s say Monday last week. What happened when you got home from school?”

“Uh, maybe I gardened a little,” Piper said.

“And then…?”

“Uh, maybe a little more puttering in the garden, then I made dinner—”

“For one.” Deirdre said.

“Yes, for one—it’s just me, after all.” Piper could hear the irritation in her voice and softened her tone. “Okay, after that, I probably looked over my lesson plan, watched a bit of TV, and then lights out. Short and sweet.”

Deirdre guffawed. “All righty, I think I’m getting the full picture here, Piper. Boy oh boy, you know, some days I think being a GP is closer to detective work than hard-core medicine. Remember Ronny Plymouth.”

“Ronny Plymouth! Ew, how could I forget him?” Piper was surprised to feel the relief created by the shift in focus to the awful PI from the past. “What a creep.” She was babbling now. “I never felt the same about army fatigues—or PIs, even on TV—after him. And it was
your
summer job, not mine!”

“Yeah, you’re right, he was a creep—a creep’s creep.” Deirdre laughed. “But I did learn a few things from him, good lessons. Like the fact that there is never just one clue about what’s really going on with anyone. I mean, answers sometimes really do just come up behind you and hit you on the head like a hammer. I probably do need a bonk on the head, but coffee will have to do.” Seeming only now to remember the coffee, she slurped loudly. “So listen…I’ve sent the doctor home and called in the detective.”

“You’re using that loud, satisfied voice. Okay, give it to me.”

“Look Piper, I love wrapping up a case so quickly, especially since it’s you. Brace yourself. You have minor symptoms of empty-nest syndrome, and these symptoms have been exacerbated by the nothing-new-in-your-life disorder. In other words, kiddo, you’re lonely, you’re bored, and you need to get out there and do something different, shake things up a little. My considered opinion is that you need a man in your life.... Yes, that’ll work.”

Piper nearly choked. Outrageous. She could barely respond civilly. “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice clipped. “You of all people should know that I don’t need another man in my life. One man was enough. Actually, one man was one man too many.” Then, in an attempt to both calm herself and sound more reasonable than she felt, she added, “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind a little physical contact. Perhaps you’re right…I could try to, add in a few more activities, and, uh, the odd fling!”

Deirdre always saw through her. Piper could tell from her tone of voice. “Piper darling, relax, remember, all men aren’t so bad. And he wasn’t bad—you know that—you were just young. Plus, you and Manny have done perfectly well as separate entities raising Kathleen. I don’t know why you’re so rattled, you get along like a house on fire with Manny now. Anyhow, identification of any problem is essential, the starting point, so let’s get going. I am not insisting that you find a lifelong partner, and I do agree that a little healthy sex wouldn’t hurt you at this point.” Deidre made a chop-chop motion with her hands. “You’ve got your diagnosis—and you’ve got a suggested cure. Trust me on this one.”

ROB FOLLOWED THE short, compact color consultant—Darlene, her name tag read—down another aisle to view the samples. The shades had taken on an alarmingly similar appearance and he felt himself sinking. This was not his world. Sandra had always taken care of things like this. But he was buoyed by the determination of the gray-haired saleswoman. Darlene was no shrinking violet in the world of wall treatments. Undaunted by the thousands of paint chips, she smiled at him while leafing through samples. And Rob couldn’t help noticing the lovely gray blue of her eyes, suggesting an older woman who knew her way around color and men.

“You’re going to want to stay within the same color family here. You want warm and soothing…on the uplifting side but not too gregarious….yes, that’s right,” Darlene said, and nodded, when Rob inadvertently touched a creamy white chip as he tried to get closer to the display. “You have to be courageous when painting, I mean it, and sometimes that means just saying no to audacity and yes to something more laid-back, more classic, really. Which I know doesn’t sound like courage, but it actually is.”

“Yes, I mean, no—”

“I don’t care what any of those gurus say. I mean it…just look at their paint jobs six months later. Passé, and either unbelievably boring or screaming, yes, I was painted six months ago when this awful shade was popular. Timeless, something you can sink into, that’s what you really want.” Darlene had such a passion for her job.

“Yes, timeless sounds like what I—”

“Held hostage by a garish wall? Nobody is looking for that, but well, it’s easy enough to do. It happens, we all know it happens, and then you’re back here, depressed and looking at another color scheme, when you should be at home in a smoking jacket passing out the martinis, for heaven’s sake. You shouldn’t even be noticing your walls, let alone giving them the power to embarrass you. Over here…now look at this…Cloud White,
fabulous, you can’t go wrong with this.”

The one-sided conversation was fine with Rob. He liked the direction Darlene was heading and he’d hang in with her until they reached the destination. And if the project took a turn for the worse, well, there was always that repainting she had mentioned.

He went with her brand-name recommendation for a paint that was eco-friendly, non off-gassing and dirt resistant, with a warm matte finish.

“And to think that two hours ago,” Rob said, “I thought paint was just…paint.”

“No, sir, no such thing as ‘just paint,’” Darlene said, still enthusiastic. “But you’ve got a leg up on that now, so you’re good to go!” She slapped the lid of the last can of paint, gave it three knocks with a hammer and loaded the purchases back into Rob’s cart. Her attention was immediately snagged by a woman holding up two brushes, a perplexed look on her face. Rob thanked her again and headed for his car with paint, rollers, blades and stirrers, wondering how he could have already forgotten the name of the chosen color, the one that was head and shoulders above all others.