Ron #2
“Why didn’t you say something, Ron?” Sid asks. “You know I can and will help.”
I shake my head.
“I shouldn’t have to,” I say. “I don’t want to sound like a martyr.”
“Too late,” Teddy stage-whispers.
“You’re always so funny, Teddy,” I say, glaring at him. “But that act is getting old, too. Some things in life are serious, like friendship. I didn’t want to bother any of you because I’m a nice guy, but I’m sick of being nice, and, if I’m being completely honest . . .”
“Please,” Teddy says.
“. . . I feel overlooked around here and need just a little bit of help.”
Teddy and Barry glance quickly at one another, and I know them so well that I can tell their residual hangovers from last
night have not faded and that they think I’m just being ditzy and overdramatic this morning because they hurt my feelings.
Just appease our little Rose. She goes all St. Olaf on us every now and then.
“I’ll help you,” Vince finally says in the sweetest voice. “I like to help my mom around the house.”
“He still lives at home,” Teddy says. “We have a winner!”
Vince looks wounded.
Teddy doesn’t stop. He grabs the sirloin off the counter, walks over and holds it in front of Barry’s crotch. “And you look
like you know how to handle an old piece of meat.”
Vince recoils.
“What is wrong with you lately, Teddy?” I ask. “You’re even more vicious than usual. You’re more like a Mean Girl than a Golden
Girl. Something is up.”
“Yeah, I’m up,” Teddy says. “And I shouldn’t be at this hour.”
“I’m sorry,” Barry says to Vince. “Teddy doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Yes, I do. What’s your friend’s name, Barry?” Teddy asks, his tone becoming even more belligerent. “Do you remember? He just
said it. Venture a guess since you two are destined to marry and be together forever.”
“Stop it, Teddy,” I say.
“Say it, Barry!” Teddy prods.
Barry looks at the young man.
“Vince,” the young man says. “My name is Vince.”
“I’m con-VINCE-d Barry will never call you again,” Teddy says.
“Shut up, Teddy.”
“Fuck off, Barry.”
“Yeah, fuck off, Barry,” Sid adds.
“What did I do to you?” Barry says, turning to Sid.
“You hit on my friend at Streetbar and acted as if I wasn’t even there,” Sid says.
“Like you had a shot,” Barry scoffs.
In the awkward silence that follows, Sid’s chin quivers, and a sad tear springs free.
“I’m sorry, Sid,” Barry says quickly. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Is that why you hit on me last night on Grindr?” Vince asks Barry. “Because the guy you wanted wasn’t interested?”
“No,” Barry says. “I mean, last night was a different guy. I mean . . . We had fun, didn’t we . . .” Barry falters.
“Vince!” the young man yells. “My name is Vince! I’m outta here!”
“Not before I take a picture,” Teddy says, lifting his phone to snap a photo of Vince’s perfect body clad only in a pair of
skimpy Andrew Christian briefs.
Vince storms out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He reappears seconds later, carrying his clothes from last night.
“Now that’s a real walk of shame,” Teddy mutters.
The door slams.
“Stop it!” I say. “All of you. It’s always about you. I’m always taking care of you. And I’m tired of it.”
I lean against the counter and sigh. “I signed up for all of this because I love you. I thought we were a team, friends who
would always help and support one another no matter what, but we’ve become total narcissists who only care about our own place
in this house and this world, and I’m sick of it.”
I open the fridge and place the sirloin inside.
“To celebrate Modernism Week, I was going to make beef stroganoff with scalloped potatoes and creamed peas and onions along with a pineapple upside-down cake,” I continue. “Manhattans and champagne, just like the Rat Pack used to have.”
“The Rat Pack fought sometimes, too, Ron,” Sid says.
“So did the Golden Girls,” Barry adds.
“They did,” I say with a small smile. “All friends do sometimes. But they don’t take each other for granted. They value one
another’s strengths and faults.” I look at Teddy. “They don’t put you down, and they don’t lie.” I look at Barry. “They don’t
leave you alone.” I look at Sid. “And they know when you need them most.”
I walk out of the kitchen.
“Come back, Ron,” Sid says. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Spencer’s for brunch, where someone will finally wait on me for once,” I say, continuing to walk toward the
door. “And then I’m going to be a docent at the Frey House, where people will appreciate the effort it takes to make a home
beautiful.”
I stop at the door and turn off my cell. “Don’t call me,” I add. “Right now, I feel like crawling under the covers and eating
a box of Velveeta.”
It’s a Rose Nylund quote from The Golden Girls. I’ve said it a million times, but I have never understood its deeper meaning until this very moment.
I open the door to leave.
Two women, one old, one young, are standing in the doorway. The older one, sporting the worst wash-and-set I’ve ever seen—and
believe me, I saw some bad hair growing up—has her hand in mid-air about to ring the doorbell. The girl is yawning.
“Does Teddy Copeland live here?” she asks.
“He does,” I say. “May I ask your name?”
“Trudy,” she says. “I’m his sister.”
Could this morning get any more Dynasty?
How did she find us? How many calls and texts did Trudy make that Teddy avoided?
I saw his phone light up more these last few days than Barry’s Grindr account.
Why would she suddenly show up on our doorstep?
I mean, she could be selling Avon based on the amount of makeup she’s wearing, but she’d certainly look a bit more polished, right?
Who does she remind me of? Oh, yes: Mimi from The Drew Carey Show.
Or, could it be revenge—served cold, unlike my pineapple upside-down cake—for Teddy’s dismissal of her existence all these
years. Who knows? But it feels fabulous to turn the tables on the others for once and make them do some dirty work.
I rub my hands together in delight and happily escort them into the kitchen.
Teddy’s eyes pop from his head when he sees his sister.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I say with a big smile. “I think I’m staying for brunch.”