Body Language. Millie Criswell
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you spoken to him about it?” Maybe her father was ill and not saying anything. That possibility worried Ellie. Her father wasn’t one to complain.
“Your father refuses to discuss it, says it’s all in my head, that there’s nothing wrong.”
“Well, there you go,” Ellie said, trying to ease her mother’s fears. “See, you’re worrying for nothing.” She prayed that was true.
“That’s probably what Ted Bundy told those girls he dated. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me, then hack, hack.”
Ellie’s mother had a thing about serial killers. She was morbidly fascinated with them and frightened that she or one of her family members would come across one some day.
Ted Bundy was talked about so often that he had become like part of the family. The only one Mom drew the line at discussing was Jeffrey Dahmer, because he ate people, and apparently that made a difference.
Go figure!
“I’m not sure how Bundy and Dad relate, but I still think you’re worrying needlessly.”
“Nevertheless, I’m going to church tomorrow and pray about it again. Prayer changes things, you know.”
“Great idea! You can pray for me while you’re there. Tell God that I need to meet a really sexy man with gobs of money, who’s good in bed, loves my dog, and has a full head of hair.”
If only such a man existed!
“Brian was nice. You should have hung on to him. Rich men aren’t that easy to find. And neither are straight men, especially in New York. With all the gay men you’ve got living there, you can’t be too picky.”
Ellie and her mother had had this discussion before, ad nauseam. This was usually the place where Ellie made her excuses and hung up. “Well, Mom, I’d better get—”
“Not so fast, young lady. I want to ask you something.”
Oh, shit! It was never good when her mother prefaced a sentence with that particular statement. She sighed. “What is it?”
“Are you coming home for Christmas? Your father and I aren’t getting any younger, and we’d like to spend the holidays with you.”
“How would I know? Christmas is still months away.”
“It’ll be here before you know it. Promise me you’ll come.”
Usually, it was possible for Ellie to blow people off if she didn’t want to commit, but not with Rosemary. Once her mother had decided on something she wanted, she didn’t give up. First the phone calls started, and then came the packages of home-baked cookies. But it was the threats of her mother coming to plead her case in person that would finally wear Ellie down. Sighing deeply at the thought of palm trees and sand instead of evergreens and snow, Ellie finally gave in, knowing her mother would hound her until she did.
“All right, I’ll come. But you should know that sometimes they make me work during the holidays. I can’t always get the time off.”
“You’ll ask your boss. He’ll understand the importance of family and will let you come home.”
“Mr. Moody’s not married, Mom. He doesn’t have a family, and I doubt he’d give a rat’s ass about anyone else’s.”
Herbert Moody was a prick. Ellie lived for the day when the man retired and was replaced with someone of this century.
“What is he, an atheist?”
“No, just a crotchety old man who should have retired years ago. I think Moody’s been at the U.N. since the day it opened.” There’d been talk of letting him go, but so far it hadn’t happened. Ellie figured the man had dirt on anyone who was anyone, like J. Edgar Hoover, only she didn’t think Herbert Moody was gay.
“There’s a lot to be said for older people. You shouldn’t discount them, Elinore. You could learn a lot from them, if you would just listen.”
Rosemary always called Ellie by her given name when she had a point to make, as if stretching Ellie into Elinore could somehow emphasize the importance of what she was saying: Elinore don’t ignore.
“Normally, I don’t, but Mr. Moody is hard of hearing and has a very sour stomach. His breath could knock down an elephant from a mile away.”
“I’ll let your father know you’ll be coming. Maybe it’ll cheer him up, get him interested in something other than that computer of his.”
“Maybe you and Dad should think about going on a cruise, or taking a romantic vacation somewhere. A change of scenery would be good for both of you.”
A moment of silence ensued as Rosemary digested this suggestion. Then she said, “You know, Ellie, that’s not a bad idea. Most of the cruise ships leave from Miami or Fort Lauderdale. We wouldn’t have to pay extra for airfare. I’m going to look into it.”
“You can get some really good fares online.”
“Good. I’ll check. I’m not as good at the Internet as your father, so I rarely use the computer, but I think I can find my way.”
Ellie felt hopeful. Her mother rarely took her advice. Actually, she never took it, and Ellie gave very good advice, if she did say so herself. But Rosemary was of the opinion that she knew everything. Pearls of wisdom spewed forth from her mouth like an uninterrupted lava flow. And like lava, which hardened when it cooled, her mother’s opinions were of the etched-in-stone variety.
“It’ll give you and Dad something in common that you can talk about,” Ellie added. “And cruises are very romantic. I think you should go. But make sure you book a good line, splurge a little. You both deserve it.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m glad I called. I feel so much better.”
Breathing a sigh of relief that Rosemary wouldn’t be purchasing a plane ticket for the Big Apple any time soon, Ellie smiled to herself and replied, “Let me know what you find out about the cruise.”
“Of course I will. Did you think I wouldn’t discuss every detail with you? You’re my daughter; this is an important decision I’ll be making.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. The woman was going on vacation, not having brain surgery! “Okay, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“And Ellie—”
“Yes?”
“Be sure to spray your toilet bowl and seat with Lysol before using it. You never know who was living there before you. And it wouldn’t hurt to scrub your floors with Murphy’s Oil Soap, and then—”
“Someone’s at the door, Mom. Gotta go. ’Bye.”
As Ellie hung up the phone, she looked heavenward or, in this case, at her ceiling, which was slightly soiled with soot. “Please, God, let the cruises be available.”
“If you want to meet men,
go where the men are.”
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS SATURDAY and Ellie was taking the big plunge.
She had enrolled at Gold’s Gym for a three-month trial period. Exercise not being her thing, she didn’t want to commit to any time period longer than that, just in case it didn’t work out. Although, she was fairly certain—okay, pretty sure—well, if not pretty sure then relatively hopeful—it would.
And there was method to her madness.
Not only was she planning to lose weight and get in shape—that’s what she told herself, anyway—she decided that going to the gym would be an excellent way to meet men. Hanging out where the guys did made perfect sense to her.
Ellie didn’t play golf, racquetball or frequent those sports bars with the big-screen TVs.