Woke Up Lonely A Novel - By Fiona Maazel Page 0,30
to keep the love alive.”
He stopped their progress to the booth. These barbs Lynne was tossing his way—enough! “Do you have something to say to me?” he said. “I can’t for the life of me understand what your problem is, but I’m willing to have a go at solving it. I don’t know what Jim told you about us, but the way you’re acting, my guess is that it was pretty bad.”
“On the contrary, Jim said you were all very nice. Kind and decent people.”
His eyes popped. He didn’t know how to handle this woman. If he’d met her at the negotiating table, he’d have wept.
Luckily, Kay returned with Jim in tow.
“Nice chat?” Olgo said.
“Very. Look, the line for the pedestal joust is the shortest it’s been all day.”
“You want to do that?”
“What, are you too old for the joust? Come on, Gramps,” and Kay took his sleeve, pulling him through the crowd. The arena was inflated—like a giant kiddie pool—and home to sponge blocks on which the players tried to maintain balance while fighting. He thought she just wanted to squirrel him away for debriefing post-Jim. But no, she actually wanted to joust. They got in line.
“So what happened?” he said.
“We didn’t really talk about the divorce.”
“Let me guess: The Helix? Thurlow Dan? Kay, am I missing out on something here? I feel like I’m being left out. ”
Kay seemed about to tell him what was on her mind, but then reared as if the wind had blown her back from the edge and she’d never come that close again.
“We’re up,” she said.
A student gave him the required helmet, and when he couldn’t fit it over his head, the student yelled to a classmate behind the arena, “Get the stretch machine, we got a big one.”
“This is humiliating,” Olgo said. “I don’t want to do this. Why is my head so much bigger than yours? Than anyone here’s?”
“Ego,” she said.
He flushed. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”
She squeezed his shoulder. “Here, watch. Jim and I will have a go.” She gave him her purse to hold. He was tempted to upturn its contents and discover a clue—a report from the lab: prognosis dire; an arrest warrant; IRS audit—anything to explain this hostility.
Kay and Jim mounted the pedestals. They wore hockey gloves and visors. Kay held her jousting pole like a spear, like she might just hurl it at Jim and hope for the best. Jim stood with pole upright. He was waiting for her to make the first move. She squared the pole and swiped at his bread box.
“What’s this?” Erin said. She had Tennessee in hand.
“I have no idea,” Olgo said. “But, sweetheart?”—and here he took a deep breath. “Have you noticed anything different about your mother? Anything at all?”
He did not look at Erin as he asked. He was almost trembling. You did not invite your child into the travails of your marriage.
“She’s dyeing her hair. I noticed that first thing.”
Olgo looked in Kay’s direction, but she was, of course, wearing a helmet.
“A new color?” he said.
Erin cocked her head. “Maybe it’s you we should be worried about. No, not a new color. Just to strip the gray.”
The joust was over. Neither fighter had lost touch with the pedestal, which left a panel of three kids to decide the bout based on number of swats landed and which adult they liked best.
Kay wrestled with her headgear. Easier to get on than off. She looked like one of those domestic animals caught with its snout in a paper bag. Finally the helmet popped off, and her hair came down in rowdy strips. Bark, cocoa, black cherry—the flaunting of colors was hard to miss, only since Kay wore her hair pinned up, even to bed, how was Olgo to know?
She won the decision. Two to one.
Erin said, “Tough break, Jim.”
Kay drank from a water bottle, letting the excess dribble down her chin. She’d yet to corral her hair and was flush with victory. She lapped the group with arms high, saying: “Kay Denny-Panjabi takes the gold! What an upset! Anything is possible for her now!”
Olgo shook his head. He didn’t need to use the bathroom, but he went anyway. He was so confused. Tears were likely. Lynne, Erin, Kay—it was as though they were teamed up to kill the motor that kept him going. He pushed his way through the crowd, slowing down once he got clear of the others. An arm linked up with his.