"What happened to you? I tried calling you last night," Mrs. Caratini said. She'd
been waiting in the main office near the time clock for Judy Weiner. And much
to her relief, here she was, looking pale, a little tired, confirming her
suspicions something had happened.
Mrs. Caratini (Math) was Judy's closest friend in the building. They were the
same age, twenty-nine, but Mrs. Caratini looked younger, and walked with
frisky quick steps; and seemed always ready for fun.
Mrs. Caratini had been married, and she liked telling the story of her
marriage. She'd flown out to Las Vegas with her boyfriend during spring break;
and there, one evening, as they strolled on a crowded sidewalk, he suggested
they get married; on the spot, right there. Why not, she responded, giggling.
Back in New York her husband ̶ an Italian businessman, ten years older,
good-looking, "with a nose for money", she said ̶ turned into a testy,
unbelievably coarse man. Mrs. Caratini didn't wait for things to settle down,
for problems to work themselves out. One day she was married, the next day,
boom! it was over; she was single again, just like that.
For Mrs. Caratini to emerge unscathed from what seemed a moment of naive
reckless decision, only to resume her life ̶ a fearless soul, full of carefree
chatter and lean-bodied energy ̶ seemed to Judy a feat just short of
miraculous. If she, Judy, were to attach herself to this woman, who was
already exploring new possibilities, some of those transcendent qualities might
rub off; her life might be changed.
Sensing patches of emptiness in a colleague's life Mrs. Caratini was only too
willing to take Judy Weiner under her wing. "You need to get out more, make
yourself available," she kept saying. "Some work on the hips, a little toning of
the thighs, fix your hair, you'll be fine."
Judy Weiner, in some ways more sensitive and intelligent, began to question
all the things she'd always believed, like her obligation to her ailing mother
(meaning, Judy was stuck in the house a lot). She deferred to the other
woman's experience, the neat dramatic entrance and exit from marriage. Mrs.
Caratini (everyone in the building, for reasons unknown, continued to refer to
her as Mrs.Caratini) had gone through so much, in such a short period of time,
she just might have the answers that eluded Judy Weiner all these years.
So began, in a flurry of hope and desire, their joint excursions to Manhattan
nightclubs, on weekends, wearing tight fitting or revealing clothes. Mrs.
Caratini, who had a preference for leather outfits, assured Judy there were
guys out there, they were sure to find someone; not Italian guys who prefer
women with long hair, and in any case weren't worth the effort, Trust me on
that! Yes, nice Jewish guys, if Judy preferred; not your regular Orthodox,
but nice. And those new Wall street millionaires, looking for the perfect mate,
they weren't too intellectual, but you can't have everything, can you? And
there was always the stranger from nowhere who might turn out to be the
one, who knows?
At some point, just as Judy was ready to give up, thinking the Manhattan
project ill-advised and irresponsible (she had to leave her ailing mother alone
for hours) she met someone she liked.
His name was Mike; he was fortyish, built like a warm cuddly bear; he had a
salt and pepper beard, chubby arms and soft hands; and he was half-Italian,
which surprised Mrs. Caratini who thought she could spot even half an Italian
a block away. He had a sense of humour, a gentle manner and he held a fairly
decent conversation. And he was a Pet Shop owner.
They'd stroll about Manhattan sidewalks; take in a movie; enjoy dinner at a
restaurant, talking all the time. He talked about his pet shop; ever since he
he was a kid he had this love of animals. Judy listened with keen glowing
wonder. He helped run a little league baseball team out in Queens; and he
was still single because, well, to tell the truth, he hadn't given any serious
thought to settling down.
They met again the following weekends, another movie, another restaurant.
One Sunday afternoon he drove out to her home to visit, bringing her a
Tibetan dog. He said it had been house-broken. Judy was overwhelmed. No
one had ever given her a dog before.
"This is a big signal, Judy, biggg signal," Ms Caratini said, visibly more thrilled
by the gesture than Judy. " Now here's what you need to do. You play him for
awhile, don't make him think you're needy. Just keep him interested, see what
happens. He gave you a dog, Judy, a dog! Now me, I'm the shallow type. I
return all presents. Give me money. My ex-husband used to buy me jewelry.
I'd toss it in a box. Whatever he gave me. Into the box. Give me money."
Soon after that visit with the gift of the dog, Mike suddenly stopped calling;
he just dropped out of sight. Judy was baffled. She imagined him disabled and
hospitalized; maybe he was out of town.
She called the pet shop. A young woman, who spoke as if she was Mike's
assistant, told her in an odd knowing tone that she'd give Mike the message.
She said Mike was busy; there was a lot of shop business to deal with right
now. She added, as if she knew more than she should about Judy's relationship
with her boss, that Mike would get in touch with her as soon as he'd gotten
over the hump.
"Gotten over what? the hump? What did she mean by that?" Mrs. Caratini
couldn't keep her voice down. "She's got some nerve talking to you that way,
the bitch! and as for Mike, he's a fucking idiot, disappearing on you like that.
Just like all Italian men. I knew this wasn't going to work out. Judy, listen to
me, you're going to have to forget this man…"
"I can't think of anything I said. Maybe it was …"
"…and forchrissake, stop flagellating yourself. It's not like you were hoping
to marry this guy. If I were you I'd go right down to his pet shop and give
him back his fucking dog. I'm serious. I told you I didn't like gifts. I had a
feeling this wasn't going to work out."
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!" by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 