Do You See What I See?

“All right, I’m just going to say it,” Dodie says. “I might be dating an exhibitionist.”

Silence at the table. And then Joanie says, “What?”

“Well, maybe I should give some background first. Even though it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“The background?” Toots asks. Then, because the women are beginning to talk among themselves, she says loudly, “Order!” Then, again, to Dodie, “The background is embarrassing?”

“Right.”

“Not the fact that you’re dating an exhibitionist? Is it a real one?”

“Let her talk!” says Karen. “After I get more wine. Wow, I can’t wait to hear this one.”

“You’re a preacher’s wife!” says Rosemary.

“Right,” says Karen. “Emphasis on wife, not preacher. I am my own person, you know. Everybody always forgets that. I am not my husband. And I actually am interested in…all kinds of things!” She runs to the kitchen for another bottle of wine, then comes back and says breathlessly, “Go ahead.”

Dodie takes in a breath. “Okay. Does anyone here watch The Bachelorette?”

A few women murmur assent.

“I never watched it until recently. But now I am absolutely addicted. I would never tell anyone but you all this, but I get positively enraged if I get interrupted when I’m watching.”

“You should tape it,” says Maddy. “Then you can pause it.”

“I watch it on demand,” says Dodie. “I can pause it. But I get aggravated if I have to pause it!”

“Wow,” Maddy says.

“See what I mean?” Dodie says, and no one says yes. She continues, “I started watching it as a kind of joke. I’d heard about the Becca disaster, how this young girl was dumped in such a humiliating way by her fiancé. But now she was coming back to the show and this time she would be the one choosing, and I thought, ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, they put the most ridiculous things on television these days.’ But I’m telling you, it’s like hypnosis. I get positively transfixed. I love the outfits, especially those sparkly evening gowns that nobody wears anymore. I like to see where they go on their dates, and—oh!—When they have the rose ceremonies? I’m on the edge of my seat. Literally! Once I leaned so far in, I spilled my wine all over my rug. Red wine, too! But I get so involved! That episode where Colton went home, and he kissed Becca’s hand when he said goodbye? Oh, that poor boy. I just bawled, watching him sitting in that limo trying to pull himself together. And the fact that he was a virgin! A professional football player who’s a virgin? Imagine! I mean, I had to ask myself: Is that an attractive quality or not? Wouldn’t it get tiresome having to teach him everything? Or would it be the sweetest thing that he hadn’t ever done it? He would come with a clean bill of health, STD-wise. But anyway, the point is, because of that show I am having the weirdest fantasies. I even fantasize that they come up with a version for seniors, and I get to be on it. I’m the Bachelorette!”

“I have fantasies about being on The Voice,” Karen says. “Nobody knows this, but I actually have a good voice. Sometimes I sing in the shower and pretend I’m auditioning and all the chairs turn for me.”

Joanie says, “I have that exact same fantasy! And then after the chairs turn and they say, ‘What’s your name?’ I say, ‘My name is Joanie Benson, I’m from Mason, Missouri, I’m a retired librarian, and I’m sixty-five years old,’ and the audience goes crazy.”

“Let’s stay focused on Dodie here,” Toots says. “So, Dodie, you’re having fantasies of dating an exhibitionist?”

“I’m getting there,” Dodie says. “The point of my telling you about that TV show is that it rekindled things in me that I thought were long dead. I got all dreamy-eyed, sitting with my morning coffee, imagining this and that. So one day I’m sitting there and I see across the way into the kitchen of the house next door and there’s Albert McIntosh, my neighbor. His wife died a year ago and he’s been a hermit. Just devastated, I guess. But there he is at his big kitchen window that faces my house, and he is in the altogether. I could see everything, okay? I’m talking full frontal. And then he saw me looking at him and he just…well, he just stood there.”

“Ew,” says Karen. “That’s disgusting.”

“No,” Dodie says. “That’s not how I felt. I mean, I know how it sounds. You think of him as a dirty old man, Karen. You look at all those buff guys at the gym and you forget about real bodies. And don’t forget, you’re still young. If you got divorced, you could find someone else easily, if you wanted to. You’d have a lot of men to choose from.

“At my age, I can’t afford to be picky. And I can take chances I never did before. What the heck! I know Albert. He’s a nice guy. I don’t mind if he’s a bit of an exhibitionist. Maybe he’s just proud that he’s held up so well. He has held up well. At this age, you figure there’s going to be something wrong with everyone and I’d rather he be a bit of an exhibitionist than pick at his teeth in public. Also, he might just be one of those guys who sleeps nude and he got up and he was standing by the window and he saw me and I didn’t freak out so he didn’t run away and hide. And you know what? You know what? And I guess here’s the real confession: the next day I came down into the kitchen in my sheer yellow nightie that I haven’t worn in I’ll bet forty-five years. And I went to the window and waited for him to come into his kitchen naked again. After a few minutes, he did. And he looked at me and I looked at him and then he waved and then I waved and then I lifted my gown. I did! I flashed him! And then we both started laughing. And he pointed to his backyard, like, would I meet him out there?”

“Naked?” Karen asks.

“No!” Dodie says. “He had on a pair of nice khaki pants and a turquoise-blue Izod shirt and he looked very nice. And I had on my floral-print summer dress with the lace collar and then just my Keds because I’m damned if I can wear any cute shoes anymore.

“When we met outside, we didn’t say anything about…We just started talking and then he invited me to dinner and then that night he came home with me and, well, there’s still lead in the pistol, if you catch my drift.”

“You did it?” Gretchen asks.

“In a manner of speaking, and that’s all I’m saying. That’s my confession: I am dating an exhibitionist. Or maybe a nudist. And I like it. And I don’t care. And I am happy.”

“He’s not really an exhibitionist,” Toots says. “He just got caught naked. And then you made the most of it. Right?”

“I guess,” Dodie says. She looks at her watch. “So that’s all I got. Someone else could go.”

“Anyone have anything?” Toots asks. “Or should we adjourn?”

Iris raises her hand. “I’m in love with a homeless man.”

“You mean that real handsome guy living on the old Dooley farm?” Toots asks. “He’s a very nice man, apparently. Just…homeless. Poor thing.”

Small towns, Iris thinks. It really is true that everyone knows everything. “Have you seen him?” she asks.

“I know about him. He’s about to get kicked off the place—I heard the police talking about him at the town council meeting last week. Unless he wants to buy it. They’re going to offer to let him buy it. It’s for sale, real cheap. The only surviving family lives out in Oregon and they’re tired of paying taxes. They’ll sell it for ten thousand dollars.”

“Really?” Iris asks. Beside her, Maddy stiffens. I’m not going to buy it! Iris wants to tell her. But the truth is, she might.