Mom, you’re welcome to come to brunch with me and Erik.” Jenna stood in the doorway of Tandy’s small office aka guest room.
“You and your brother don’t need to babysit me.” Seated on the bed, Claire watched her daughter finger-comb her long hair and gather it into a ponytail. Without benefit of mirror, she deftly twisted an elastic tie around the hair and, voilà, a perfect bun—loose, casual, and lovely.
Claire smoothed back her own hair. “How do you do that?”
“Let me try with yours. It might be long enough. Just a sec.” Jenna left the room momentarily and returned with a clear bag of hair accessories, a hand mirror, a brush, and hairspray. She dumped everything on the bed and stepped behind Claire. “When was the last time you had it cut?”
“Nine weeks.” The week before her birthday. A week and one day before she’d left Max. But who was counting?
“Maybe you could get it colored so the roots aren’t so noticeable.”
“Should I?”
Jenna peered over Claire’s shoulder. “Yes, Mom, you should.”
“I’m trying to go natural.”
She went back to brushing her hair. “So have them match the natural color. You need a perkier look than the one you’ve got going here. I mean, just because your life is a mess doesn’t mean you have to show it.”
Claire laughed. “This sounds like a hint we should go shopping.”
“Mall therapy! Great idea! I can meet you at Fashion Valley this afternoon. Or we’ll go together if you want to come to brunch first with me and Erik and what’s-her-face.”
“Jen, you might try saying her name. Your brother could very well marry Felicia Matthews someday.”
“Marriage will not make her good enough for him. The hanger-on of coattails,” Jenna muttered, pulling at Claire’s hair. “Okay. It’s too short to twist up, but this ponytail is great. You can’t see the roots as much. Hold on.” She dug in her bag and pulled out a silk navy blue scarf.
“We wore those in high school.”
“Your point being? There is nothing new under the fashion sun, you know. Just tweaks.” Jenna tied the scarf around the ponytail. “There. Perfect. What do you think?” She handed her the mirror.
Claire studied her reflection. Without hair falling about her face, the greenish brown eyes were pronounced. “I look like a scared rabbit.”
“You do not. It’s a classic style. And more natural than your blow-dry, curling-iron, granny effect.”
“Granny effect? Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” Jenna sprayed the hair into place. “There. A little makeup wouldn’t hurt either, Mom. At least some blush.”
“Okay, okay.”
Jenna plopped on the bed beside her. “Now what about brunch?”
“I’m going to pass on that. I really want to go to church.”
“I thought you didn’t like Tandy’s.”
“I didn’t. It’s growing on me. You probably don’t want to come?”
Jenna shook her head. “I need to see Erik. He thinks I’ve lost my mind. He and Kevin talk.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”
Claire squeezed her arm. Flippant and carefree as she appeared, Jenna could not hide the sadness in her eyes. Neither she nor Kevin had called each other in the week since he’d reenlisted with the Marines. At the high school where they both taught, they avoided each other. Jenna stayed in her department’s wing; he stayed in the gym areas. Rumors flew. They resembled the angst-riddled teenagers they taught.
Still, Claire thought, it beat a lifetime of “How high, Kev?”
Didn’t it?
A short while later, Claire drove into a parking space at the farthest edge of the church lot. Tandy was busy with an open house, leaving Claire to solo for the first time with her friend’s quirky congregation. As she had told Jenna, the service and its people were growing on her.
Tandy discovered the place after her divorce. Claire accompanied her a few times; she had not been impressed. Although only about a hundred people attended, their worship time was loud, bordering on chaotic at times. Communion was served every week. Jenna would refer to the dress code as typically So-Cal: shorts, T-shirts, and over-sized print shirts for the men; slacks and summery skirts for the women; flip-flops and Birkies for all. Tears and laughter flowed freely; hugs and kisses abounded.
It was like a church full of Tandys. What you see is what you get. Unrestrained emotions and in-your-face sermons ruled the morning.
In spite of the warmth Claire had begun to feel after a service, it was, at times, just a bit too much.
She restarted the car and drove away. There was quite enough of just a bit too much in her life.
Claire drove to Oceanside, on the coast, and walked out onto the pier jammed with Sunday crowds. Fishermen lined the rails. Children raced ahead of mommies. Daddies pushed strollers thump, thump over the thick uneven boards. Older couples rode the electric cart “taxi” to and from the fifties-style restaurant located at the end.
Claire stood there, behind the eatery and way beyond swimmers and surfers. Nothing but iron-gray water and steel-blue sky lay before her. Nearby, fishermen leaned at the rails. Families lingered, hoping to glimpse the occasional dolphin or sea lion.
Oceanside was many miles from Claire’s life down in San Diego. The women in her social circles would give away a diamond necklace before sharing space with people who caught their own dinner while resting their elbows in seagull droppings. Max’s clients did not frequent the military town. Her son Danny lived at a different beach. No, there was not a chance she would run into an acquaintance.
Except the one in her memory.
She had walked with Petros on this pier.
Maybe she should have walked with him all the way to Greece.