My detour to Florida on the way to California irritated me. I’d bought a used Rolls-Royce because everyone who’d ever been to Hollywood said, “You are what you drive.” Then, by God, I’d be the best.
Mother’s first order of business was for me to cart her butt all over south Florida. There wasn’t a crossroads we missed from Five Points to Coral Gables. We’d reach a stoplight. She’d press the electric window button, and the glass would purr down. She’d start a conversation with the victim in the adjoining car. I could have killed her.
She loved the Silver Shadow. I liked Silver Clouds better but they’re harder to drive, so I’d bought a newer Silver Shadow, a metallic sand with a coral pinstripe.
I drove her to church. I drove her to the grocery store. I drove her to work. I drove her to the beach. I drove her to Aunt Mimi’s. That was jubilation. I drove her to Julia Ellen and Russell’s. I drove more miles than if I had driven straight through to California on Route 10.
Time was pressing. I urged her to sign the release form. She picked up a Bic pen, sat at the kitchen table and held her hand over the dotted line. She put the pen down. Picked it up again.
Pen poised in midair, she said, “Honey, I could sign this so much easier if I had an emerald-cut diamond on my hand.”
She skipped to the car. I drove her to her favorite jeweler. She picked out a sparkling emerald-cut diamond, not too gaudy. The carat size of a diamond depends on your hand size as well as your pocketbook. Anyone wearing a gigunda diamond, too big for her hand, is marked a crass. Mother might be crass but she wasn’t going to look it.
She put the diamond against her wedding band. We drove home. She signed the release form.
“Mom, you were supposed to help me with Aunt Mimi. She hasn’t signed anything yet and I’ve got to boogie.”
We hopped in the car, a wonderful car but too flashy. By now I realized I would have preferred a Bentley. Of course, even being able to own a car was magic.
We reached Aunt Mimi’s. She lay in wait. I was handed an ice-cold Coke. Pickled eggs and fried chicken awaited me. Aunt Mimi, a good cook, sat me at the head of the table. She and Mother sat on either side of me. Her smooth macaroni salad tasted like ambrosia. Her fried chicken, same recipe as Mother’s, crunched. She had even taken some chicken off the bones for the cats back at Mom’s. However, she called Baby Jesus “B.J.” since she thought the cat’s name was sacrilegious.
“B.J. will love this. Frippie too.”
Needless to say, I was suspicious.
Aunt Mimi sipped an iced tea. “You know, kid, getting old is hard. I can’t work like I used to. Neither can Mearl, and we have to help out the kids from time to time.”
“Aches and pains.”
“The day will come when Mearl can’t make the good living we’re used to—”
“How much, Aunt Mimi?”
“Why, I am offended!”
Mother kicked me under the table. “What she means to say, Sis, is she loves you so much. After all, you were the one who drove in the blizzard and held her all the way back from Pittsburgh.”
“That tiny undernourished baby.” Aunt Mimi got misty.
Why was I going to Hollywood? Clearly, these two were Academy material.
“Aunt Mimi, I am eternally grateful. Why, I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for you.”
She beamed and shoved another piece of fried chicken my way. “I’m no slouch myself. Why, if I were a young woman, who knows what I’d do.”
“You’d be the best.” I sighed a big sigh, hoping I could get out of there without being skinned alive. “Well, let me send those release forms up to Harper and Row.”
I finished my food while Mother brought me my purse, ostensibly so I could find a pen for Aunt Mimi but really so I could fish out my flattening checkbook.
I wrote out a check for $2,000. That may seem a small sum. Money was worth more then. Why is it that money keeps getting devalued? Think what $150,000 was worth in 1831. Weird. Anyway, judicious hints from Mother let me know that was what was left on Aunt Mimi’s mortgage.
I know she never told anyone, but she and Mother celebrated plenty. They’d put one over on the college-educated kid. I knew it was coming. What the hell. It gave them far more pleasure than if I had just paid up without the theatrics.
Before the kitties and I finally left for the West Coast, I had to go through the death drill one more time.
As I walked to the car Mother busied herself making kitty nests in the backseat. We put a dirt box on the back floor on top of plastic sheeting.
Baby Jesus enjoyed riding in the Rolls. She didn’t much like other cars but she tolerated the Shadow. Frip and Caz despised it. They’d cry until they fell asleep.
We also put a travel box, door open, on the backseat so they could go in and out. It made the two nontravelers feel safer.
I kissed Mom goodbye. She had packed a big basket for me. Aunt Mimi gave me a round plastic Tupperware container filled with her macaroni salad. I was supposed to return the Tupperware, of course.
“Kid.” Mom stood by the driver’s door, her hands on her hips. “I love you.”
“Love you too. Mom.”
Then she waved me goodbye with her left hand turned toward me, palm inward, so the diamond would spray rainbows.