Epilogue

I was sitting out front, detoxing and weeding the rock garden, when the Audi A5 convertible squealed into Oscar’s driveway. The haunting timbre of the Rolling Stones’ “Moonlight Mile” died with the engine, and an unnaturally tall, unnaturally busty, unnaturally blonde hopped out.

“Hey, Theresa,” she called from the tip-top of her six-inch spiked heels.

When the sea grapes were trimmed, like they were these days, I had no privacy.

“Hey, Blaise. How’s work?” I called.

“Big boners last night and matching tips.” She laughed. Her teeth were unnaturally white. “How’s little V?”

“Asleep, thank god,” I said. “I needed to sweat for an hour or two. I’m trying to shed this baby belly.” I stood up and pointed to my fat gut. Vario Junior was four months old, but I still looked like I was in my third trimester. The full tits? Those babies I wasn’t complaining about. Neither was Vario.

“You’ll lose it, don’t worry. When my oldest sister had her last kid, she was past forty and it took her a little longer to get back in shape. But that’s what you got Vario for, right?” She grinned and waved, then sashayed up the front walk.

Blaise was the perfect roommate for Oscar. She kept the place spotless because that’s the way she liked it, and when she wasn’t sleeping, she was managing the bar at Dream Land. Blaise wasn’t a partier. Oscar loved her like a daughter, and he perked up whenever she entertained her big, extended family. He even got dressed once in a while.

I tore the Virginia creeper from the sea grape trees and piled it in the swale with the browned palm fronds. I avoided scraping myself on the trimmings from the bougainvillea bushes. Vario had planted a new one by Oscar’s front door, watering it carefully until it flourished. Later on, after he moved in with me, he planted a row of them by our front door.

I snipped a few more stray branches and carried the clippings to the pile. My head was soaked with sweat and it felt terrific. I hadn’t been able to exercise regularly since the baby arrived. Breastfeeding on demand limited my excursions to evening runs when Vario was home and on duty with our son.

“Hey, Mrs. F.” Dooley jogged up, panting a little. “I wanna introduce you to somebody. A girl I like.” His lean face was spotted red with exertion or excitement, maybe both. “Met her at Vario’s gym. She’s a Vario Warrior, too. Now we work out together.”

“Cool. I guess Vario’s gym is the perfect pickup place for kids your age. Right?”

He shrugged. “You gotta get ’em where you can, Mrs. F. So, can I bring her by?” He jogged in place, anxious to put in his miles. Trim and tan, Dooley was a senior now. He’d become a serious runner and a more serious, if not more successful, student. “Like for one of your vegan buffets?”

I’d been hosting vegan dinners for some of Vario’s more hesitant clients. People were afraid to go vegan, you had to show them how easy and fun it could be. I cooked up a variety of tasty dishes, handed out recipes. Business boomed. Vario and I were even writing a cookbook.

When we weren’t changing diapers and rocking Junior to sleep, that is. He’s a lively baby, kind of high energy. Wonder where he got that personality trait? We’ve been waiting to see what his temper will be like.

“Sure,” I said to my former student. “How’s tomorrow night? My daughter’s coming for dinner, you can meet her.”

Dooley nodded, grinned. “Awesome.” He flashed me the peace out sign and ran off.

Peace out my ass. The searing South Florida sun was scorching my skin and the sweat dripped into my eyes, salty, stinging, clean and healthy. Boy, did I feel good. And when Vario came home from the gym and swept me into his big, muscled arms, I knew I’d feel even better.

I laughed out loud, then crouched down to weed the rest of my rock garden.