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“It’s like shrinking,” Gloria says, and Phil could crawl inside a magician’s coffin, bang his fists on the interior lid (not to be confused with the secret divider that allows the magician’s assistants to appear to be one person to allow the trick to work) because Gloria is right.
Grief is like shrinking.
At least Claire and Jay got to have a great time at Organizer-Closet Fest North America, Mitch pulling Rex out of kindergarten to meet them, Jay picking Rex up to see the top shelf of the display closet. “Don’t let ’em use pine or any of that other cheap stuff, you hear me?” Jay had told his youngest grandchild. “If it’s not cedar, you tell ’em to shove it up their —”
The video Claire had sent cut off there.
Cut off too soon, but also more than enough to be grateful for — lives lived, parents and kids and grandparents and grandkids.
It’s been a year, ten months, two days, and the blink of an eye all at once. Separate, simultaneous time spans that shouldn’t both be true but they are, a form of black magic that Phil should bring to the attention of the Secret Society of Magicians so it can be banned.
“You know what’s not shrinking? The listing in Santa Monica. We’d better hold firm on price, don’t you think?” Phil says, tries to smile across the shared desk, find comfort sitting in his rolly chair because he and Gloria should focus on work, on square footage and school zones and remodeled kitchens and baths. The twins are supposed to come over for movie night tonight. That’s always fun. Phil has a new joke planned about Poppy liking popcorn. They’ll laugh at the joke this time — it isn’t too “corny.”
From her side of their desk, Gloria leans toward him. Phil never used to notice the way the front of Gloria’s dresses dip to show her cleavage, but — okay, that’s a lie. He did always notice. From the day he met her. But is it loneliness that has his fingers tingling to touch the perfectly curvy breasts of his former mother-in-law ... except he didn’t think of Gloria as his mother-in-law even when she technically was his mother-in-law? Because DeDe was Phil’s mother-in-law. Thinking of Gloria as his mother-in-law was weird even back when Gloria was legally-if-not-mentally his actual mother-in-law, which she hasn’t been for a while even though she never seemed to be even when she was.
God, this is confusing.
“Phil, I don’t want to talk about the listing,” Gloria says and, wow, she’s pretty when she’s irritated, just like Claire with that furrow that forms between the eyebrows.
Wait. Does the furrow mean irritated or does the furrow mean angry? A furrow is a line and it sure can be a “fine line” to figure out what that particular line means. No, but seriously, deciphering emotions is important to be able to cheer people up.
It’s important to cheer people up.
Gloria stands, starts to pace, high heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
“I want to talk about what we’ve been going through, Phil. I want to talk about love and I want to talk about how I knew I was marrying an old man but I could let myself forget and think he would live forever. Jay was stubborn enough for that, I was sure of it. I want to talk about this shrinking feeling and how it’s been almost two years, yet we both pretend everything is —”
“It’s been a year, ten months, and two days,” Phil says, not annoyed, not internally cursing the black magic of time that doesn’t make sense. He’s just correcting his partner in real estate listings and the calendar of grief on yet another number they share. “Let’s not shrink that into something faster or easier to say.”
“Fine. You’re very precise, and I respect that. But all you do is read your jumping magazines and work and spend time with your family,” Gloria says, dress tantalizing tight as she paces, and it’s not Gloria’s fault that she doesn’t appreciate the excellent, hard-hitting journalism in each month’s issue of Bounce! magazine. Trampolining is a way of life that doesn’t appeal to everyone. “You know I’ve been dating, trying to get out there again, meet new people. I don’t like the shrinking feeling. I think you should try to get out there, too, Phil.”
Out there.
It’s scary out there.
Out there where a semi-truck can swerve on the highway and a father and daughter who were also so much more than that can become so much less than alive. Even though they should have come home from Organizer-Closet Fest North America, not died and left holes in hearts that should have been full for a lot longer.
“How’s that working out for you, Gloria?” Phil asks, and his voice is doing that thing where he’s trying to have a conversation, share an observance or two, but it sounds like he’s upset, too tight in the throat and the pitch is unsteady. “Because I see you come to work and you look just as depressed as I feel — only prettier — and I think maybe you shouldn’t try to keep doing what you don’t like on another date with someone you don’t have a good time with.”
Gloria’s back straightens and it’s totally normal to notice how her perfectly curvy breasts become somehow even more perfect when she stands that way, like she’s ready for an argument even though Phil and Gloria don’t really argue much, just talk until things make sense. “And what is it that I don’t like?”
“You don’t like dating. You don’t like new people. You like shopping and watching your telenovelas and going to Joe’s school performances. You like Manny’s phone calls and when Mitch and Cam send pictures from the farm because you think the pigs are cute but the goats are the devil. You like the smell of Jay’s cigars because you miss him and those cigars remind you that he enjoyed life. But you don’t …” it’s as if Phil’s throat is too tight to keep talking, an ache inside that gets better and worse but never leaves anymore, “You don’t like dating. You liked being with someone who understood you. And I did, too.”
Gloria’s arms fold and for the love of God could Phil please stop staring at her breasts through what little there is of her dress? After all, Gloria is Phil’s friend, in some ways his closest friend because Gloria gets what he’s going through, listens when he talks about Claire and how much he misses her, forces him to open up about his fears when opening up about things that upset him … that’s maybe not Phil’s best magic trick.
“Maybe I go out on dates because I don’t want to be alone,” Gloria says, and the way she’s looking at Phil … it’s not new but it’s not old either. Quick glances at his chest, his lips, his waist, and is she trying to figure out his shoe size? “Maybe I know that about myself and I think it’s weak. In my country, widows are supposed to be strong, their love for their dead husband so pure that they never seek out anyone else. But I can’t live that way.”
“Of course you can’t. Because you’re still alive. And part of being alive is seeking out others,” Phil says, and Phil should have understood that about Dad after Mom died, and Phil … Phil can try to understand that about himself, his throat not so tight anymore. “I’m glad I have you.”
Her head turns so fast toward Phil that Gloria’s hair does that thing where it moves like a wave on a beautiful, moonlit sea of brown with blonde highlights.
Phil should probably let her talk. But something is happening in his brain, like the fireworks Mom loved, like the organization that brought Claire satisfaction, cluttered thoughts finding cubbyholes of realization. Is this what it was like when Alex discovered that quantum-fancy-whatever particle? Or when Haley successfully marketed that new form of cheese that can also work as a candle? Or when Luke found that really cool rock?
The rolly chair is comfortable. But a rolly stone gathers no moss. And it’s time to stand up and gather some … okay, the metaphor breaks down a little at the photosynthesis stage. But Phil does stand up.
“Gloria, I’m not saying this because we’re both lonely. I promise. I’m saying this because I like you in a way that can be completely platonic if that’s what you prefer, but also in a way that could be more than platonic because, when so much has been shrinking, it could be really nice if we could grow into something else. Together. As a couple. Just to be clear, a romantic couple. If you’re interested.”
Years ago, when Gloria kissed him because they were on the kiss cam at the Lakers Game, her kiss was a task, as if Gloria was taking out the garbage or de-clogging a sink. But she looks at him now and Gloria’s hand finds his hand, warm, secure, and she tugs him closer, her touch inviting, not a task.
“I’m interested,” she says, her confidence kick-starting flutters in Phil’s belly even though he’s sure, too. The flutters are because … well, they’re standing really close together and it’s been a long time since he’s done this — mentally prepared to kiss someone he likes for the first time. But Gloria has been dating other guys and it’s not that Phil has something to prove, exactly, but just to seal the deal as they say in real estate, it would be best to —
Holy moly, she’s kissing him. He was going to kiss her, but Gloria curled toward him and her lips are soft and the little breaths from her nose are like the air current generated by waves of a magician’s handkerchief because magic is happening! Magic is happening!
A kiss as beautiful as she is, as strong, as brilliant.
A kiss that’s nudgy, not too much too soon, but a kiss of hope, of promise, a low sound of pleasure from somewhere deep in her chest, a certain kind of joy radiating that’s different. Because this isn’t what either of them may have planned on or wanted. But it’s something good that can grow into something that might maybe be great, really great, extraordinary even.
Not unlike the award-winning investigative reporting found in each month’s issue of Bounce! magazine.