Saturday, October 19, 2013
The Continuing Unravelling of the Tapestry
I don't have a picture of her. She was beautiful though. That kind of sexy beauty that can make other women hate you. For the men loved her. I'd yet to meet one in our circle who wasn't reduced to a stuttering mumble when she was around. For if she walked into a room, the rest of us females would be wallpaper. Instantly. It was the voice. The tight jeans. The heels. The way she walked. The way she spoke. The way she laughed, loud, deep-throated, seductive. Did I mention she was blonde? Yeah, that too. With dazzling eyes. Downright gorgeous.
She was caustic. She suffered fools really badly indeed. Did I mention she was funny? She was hysterically funny. And bright. She had her troubles, don't we all. She and I bonded over our estranged daughters. She had one too. Heads together, we commiserated, yanked out some private memories of holding their little baby selves and never quite understanding the pain that would be inflicted in later years.
I think the most attractive side of her was her complete unawareness of how gorgeous she was. Truly. And she liked her women friends.
"How do you do it?" I said to her once when there was a crowd of us around. The men, as usual, hanging off her every word. Her witty, sharp, biting words.
"Do what?" she said, astonished, "Do what? Speak up, do what?"
Captivate, I wanted to say. But didn't. She wouldn't know what I was talking about.
"Laugh for me," she whispered to another dear friend a few days ago, "I can't laugh anymore."
Rest easy, dearest Donna. Your three years of dreadful suffering are over now.
And you were still angry as you left us all here today.
I wouldn't have expected anything less of you.
Acceptance is for sissies.