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Authors: Rebecca Wells
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those she-cats Luce wrote about.”
“I’m really touched that you would part with ‘Divine Secrets,’ Mama.”
“After the way you butchered my reputation throughout the United States of America, I do think it was rather big of me.”
“Not simply big, Mama. Grand. ”
There was a short silence in which Vivi waited for an apology.
“I’m sorry about it all, Mama. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I do not want to discuss it,” Vivi said. “Now, what about the wedding?”
“I do not want to discuss it,” Sidda said.
“Everybody’s driving me crazy asking me questions,” Vivi said. “I mean, I have given countless wedding gifts for the past twenty-some-odd years to every girl in your class, some of them for three different marriages. People want to know where to send the gifts.”
“Your scrapbook is the gift I need right now, Mama.”
“I always thought I’d use that thing to write my memoirs,” Vivi said. “But who has time to write memoirs? I’m still living my memoirs.”
“It would be wonderful if you’d write about all those memories, Mama. I have so many questions. I mean, the things in the scrapbook are wonderful, but there is so much I don’t know. So many stories. I found this key, for instance. It just fell right out of the book, and I’m dying to know what it’s to. Has a little chain attached to it.”
“Oh, really?” Vivi said.
“Do you have any idea what it’s to?”
“Could be to anything.”
“Mother, it would be so helpful to me if you would just sit down and write about your life for me. What formed you, what went into creating the lifelong friendship you share with Caro and Teensy and Necie. What you felt, what your secrets were, what were your dreams? The stories underneath all this Ya-Ya-rabilia.”
“I asked you not to call me Mother. It sounds so Northern. In fact, I believe I asked you not to call me, period. I am under no obligation to write an essay about my life for you. Especially since you seem to feel it your obligation to broadcast lies about me to the free world.”
“God, Mama. I could not control that. Let’s not fight, please.”
Vivi took a sip of her drink.
Two thousand miles apart, Sidda could hear the ice cubes clinking against Vivi’s glass. If anyone ever made a movie about her childhood, that would be the soundtrack. She glanced at her watch. How could she have forgotten that it was cocktail time in Louisiana?
“Forget it, Mother.”
“No,” Vivi said. “ You forget it. You want to pick yourself apart, go right ahead. But you’re not going to pick me to pieces. I sent you my Ya-Ya ‘Divine Secrets,’ for God’s sake, what else do you want—blood?!”
“I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to sound like I’m not grateful, but—”
“Do you remember how horrified you were as a little girl when you found the word ‘vivisection’ in the dictionary? Came running to me in tears, remember? Well, I’m not a Goddamn frog, Sidda. You can’t figure me out. I can’t figure me out. It’s life , Sidda. You don’t figure it out. You just climb up on the beast and ride .”
“I’ll take good care of the album,” Sidda said, “and get it back to you like you asked.”
“I want it back before my birthday, you hear me?” Vivi said.
“Yes ma’am.”
“And do me a favor, will you?” Vivi said. “Don’t call me again acting like a researcher for This Is Your Life. I don’t need the kind of publicity you come up with.”
Late that night, after Sidda had race-walked for five miles down a long, flat road that led into the Quinault Valley, she sat out on the deck and stared up into the sky. The whole day had been overcast, and no stars were to be seen. She sipped a mimosa and nibbled on some cheese and bread, wondering what Connor was doing at that moment. Her body missed his. She thought of the time in his small office at the Seattle Opera when he’d reached down into the waist of her slacks while she stood at his
“I’m really touched that you would part with ‘Divine Secrets,’ Mama.”
“After the way you butchered my reputation throughout the United States of America, I do think it was rather big of me.”
“Not simply big, Mama. Grand. ”
There was a short silence in which Vivi waited for an apology.
“I’m sorry about it all, Mama. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I do not want to discuss it,” Vivi said. “Now, what about the wedding?”
“I do not want to discuss it,” Sidda said.
“Everybody’s driving me crazy asking me questions,” Vivi said. “I mean, I have given countless wedding gifts for the past twenty-some-odd years to every girl in your class, some of them for three different marriages. People want to know where to send the gifts.”
“Your scrapbook is the gift I need right now, Mama.”
“I always thought I’d use that thing to write my memoirs,” Vivi said. “But who has time to write memoirs? I’m still living my memoirs.”
“It would be wonderful if you’d write about all those memories, Mama. I have so many questions. I mean, the things in the scrapbook are wonderful, but there is so much I don’t know. So many stories. I found this key, for instance. It just fell right out of the book, and I’m dying to know what it’s to. Has a little chain attached to it.”
“Oh, really?” Vivi said.
“Do you have any idea what it’s to?”
“Could be to anything.”
“Mother, it would be so helpful to me if you would just sit down and write about your life for me. What formed you, what went into creating the lifelong friendship you share with Caro and Teensy and Necie. What you felt, what your secrets were, what were your dreams? The stories underneath all this Ya-Ya-rabilia.”
“I asked you not to call me Mother. It sounds so Northern. In fact, I believe I asked you not to call me, period. I am under no obligation to write an essay about my life for you. Especially since you seem to feel it your obligation to broadcast lies about me to the free world.”
“God, Mama. I could not control that. Let’s not fight, please.”
Vivi took a sip of her drink.
Two thousand miles apart, Sidda could hear the ice cubes clinking against Vivi’s glass. If anyone ever made a movie about her childhood, that would be the soundtrack. She glanced at her watch. How could she have forgotten that it was cocktail time in Louisiana?
“Forget it, Mother.”
“No,” Vivi said. “ You forget it. You want to pick yourself apart, go right ahead. But you’re not going to pick me to pieces. I sent you my Ya-Ya ‘Divine Secrets,’ for God’s sake, what else do you want—blood?!”
“I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to sound like I’m not grateful, but—”
“Do you remember how horrified you were as a little girl when you found the word ‘vivisection’ in the dictionary? Came running to me in tears, remember? Well, I’m not a Goddamn frog, Sidda. You can’t figure me out. I can’t figure me out. It’s life , Sidda. You don’t figure it out. You just climb up on the beast and ride .”
“I’ll take good care of the album,” Sidda said, “and get it back to you like you asked.”
“I want it back before my birthday, you hear me?” Vivi said.
“Yes ma’am.”
“And do me a favor, will you?” Vivi said. “Don’t call me again acting like a researcher for This Is Your Life. I don’t need the kind of publicity you come up with.”
Late that night, after Sidda had race-walked for five miles down a long, flat road that led into the Quinault Valley, she sat out on the deck and stared up into the sky. The whole day had been overcast, and no stars were to be seen. She sipped a mimosa and nibbled on some cheese and bread, wondering what Connor was doing at that moment. Her body missed his. She thought of the time in his small office at the Seattle Opera when he’d reached down into the waist of her slacks while she stood at his
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