I remembered I wanted to ask Libby about her massages, but she bulldozed over my voice.
``It's time to wean, anyway. I can't put my own life on hold forever,'' she rattled on as she pulled into traffic. ``And that child can thrive on Bright Beginnings just as well as my milk, which is probably tainted by preholiday stress.''
``Why don't you let me help with your shopping, Lib? You could stay home and enjoy the children.''
``Dear heaven, I'm trying to get away from home! The twins are driving me insane. Lucy's invisible friend gives everybody the creeps, and who knows what Rawlins has 56 Nancy Martin been doing. He's hardly ever at home anymore. I think he needs a father figure, a strong man to be a role model.''
I began to suspect that the blaze in my sister's eyes was a hormonal surge, not seasonal mania. ``Are you doing something about that? The father figure, I mean?''
``Of course not! I'm not dating anyone. Or seeing anyone at all, in fact.'' Her madly cheerful front began to crumble. ``Who would want a lactating cow like me? What man could possibly enjoy spending time with a widow with five children when he could have anyone in the world, b-b-but he chooses another man over me, for crying out loud, be- cause I'm too disgusting?''
``Are we talking about--''
``J-J-Jason, of course! He's gay! How come nobody ever tells me these things? Attractive gay men should be re- quired to wear name tags so women don't make fools of themselves! I-I-I felt like such a breeder!''
``Libby,'' I said, ``let's go get some dinner and talk.''
She burst into tears.
She wobbled the van next to a fire hydrant, set the brake, and bawled for a while. I made soothing noises and calmed her down with some platitudes, pats on the back, and finally a butterscotch Life Saver that I found in the glove compart- ment. She blathered a lot of nonsense and soaked through her own handkerchief and mine. Nobody could have hyster- ics the way my sister could. I think there was even runny mascara on me by the time she was finished. But she emerged from the handkerchiefs looking radiantly beautiful.
Eventually, she was able to drive again. She made a bee- line for a Friendly's, and we skipped dinner to order gar- gantuan ice-cream sundaes in a booth near the jukebox.
``For five seconds I thought about trying to change him.'' She scraped the last molecules of whipped cream and choc- olate sauce from the bottom of her dish. ``But remember what Mama used to say?''
``That you can't change a man unless he's in diapers?''
``It's true, I know. But I thought if anybody could get Jason to change his tune, it's me.''
``Right,'' I said.
``I'm not unattractive, you know.'' SLAY BELLES 57
``I know.''
``I may have a few more curves than some women, but I'm very firm. He told me that. I have firm flesh. He said it.''
``I'm sure he meant it.''
``He has wonderful hands.'' Libby's eyes began to glaze over again, and not from the shock of all the ice cream she'd just ingested. ``I've never had a massage like he gives. So sensual. So caring. Jason really leans into his work, and when he touches my--''
``Libby.''
``Right,'' she said. ``There are lots of fish in the sea.''
``Exactly,'' I said.
``More men where Jason came from.''
``Even better men.''
``I need a passionate, but spiritual person, somebody who understands my subconscious needs. Someone whose de- sires meld with my unique chakras, who will interface with my physical and nonphysical being as we travel beyond this plane to a self-actualized illumination. Are you going to finish your ice cream?''
I passed my dish across the table. ``Have you heard from Emma?''
``She phoned this morning. Maybe that's part of my prob- lem.'' Libby swirled chocolate sauce into the melting ice cream. ``Now that Emma's out of commission for a while, I feel as if I should be wreaking havoc on the male of the species on her behalf.''
Our youngest sister, Emma, could attract men wherever she went. Of the three of us, she was the incredibly gor- geous one, the sister who exuded sexual invitation the way other human beings perspire. She handled men as deftly as she managed the wild horses she trained. They obeyed her every command.
But gradually Emma's social drinking had gotten out of hand. Libby and I had risked a powerful sisterly bond by insisting Emma get some help. She had checked into a rehab program just a week earlier.
``How's she doing?'' I asked.
``She's still pissed off. But less than before.''
``She's taking rehab seriously?'' 58 Nancy Martin
``I think so. Look, we can't worry about her every mo- ment, Nora. We have to allow Emma to make her own mistakes.''
``She's made more than her share,'' I said.
``We're all at turning points.'' Libby licked her spoon and eyed me.
``What is that supposed to mean?''
``That man of yours . . .''
``Libby--''
``I just want you to know that it makes no difference to me if you're having a fling. As a reject from the Common Sense Club myself, I encourage an occasional wild, sexual adventure, especially for someone as repressed as you are, but--''
``Hey.''
``But I hope you're being very careful, Nora. You don't want to be mixed up with a dangerous man for the long haul.''
``I'm not a teenager,'' I said. ``So you can lay off the motherly lecture.''
``Can I help it? I care what happens to you! And I know That Man is not the kind of partner who's best for you. You need a dependable, hardworking, sensitive person who can help
