“Who’s Mimi?”
“Your personal assistant, although your mother has enlisted her help while you’ve been away.”
“I have a personal assistant?”
“Clarice needed a new assistant after Mrs. Goldstein retired this past June and put yours to work. Mimi is with Clarice and Meredith in your mother’s office upstairs. I believe they are waiting for you.”
“Why?” We stand and I watch him move behind his big desk.
“One of your events, God only knows which.” He sits down in a big leather chair, looking like a president.
“Thank you for the phone,” I say, even though it’s not all what I’d hoped for. Because I don’t need to relearn social norms, I add, “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Edie.” He leans his head back, suddenly looking like he’s a worn-out president. I think of my daddy and how he pops a beer first thing when he gets home from work. His latest dog waits with at least two tennis balls in its mouth and shakes with excitement until he takes it out back. People hear his laugh from Marfa to Alpine. Daddy isn’t a perfect man, but he knows how to have fun. I suddenly feel bad for Marv because I don’t think he laughs much or cracks a real smile, but he ruins it by saying, “Please be aware of your mother’s feelings and think before expressing yourself. Buttering your behind is inappropriate.”
And just when we were starting to get along, too. “Hey, Marv.”
He gives me his attention without moving his head. “Yes.”
I doubt he’d play along with a “childish” knock-knock joke. “Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?” But I have a mess of stupid kid jokes.“It was two-tired.” He just stares at me like he doesn’t get it. “It’s a joke.”
“Is that what you call it?” His expression doesn’t change.
“Yep. I’ll have another to tell you tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.”
Novia appears like she was summoned and shows me to Claire’s office. It’s more feminine than Marv’s, with a much smaller Resolute desk. I find Claire and Meredith sitting around a pedestal table with four floral chairs, sipping tea with a woman in black pants and a red blouse. I thank Novia, again proving my social norms are just fine.
“Edie.” The woman I’m guessing is Mimi stands up from her chair and walks toward me. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her lipstick matches her blouse. “Welcome back,” she says, and opens her arms. Now, I’m from Texas and we’re a friendly bunch, but we don’t go around hugging strangers. That sort of contact is limited to close friends and family. Johnny J. preaches it’s the same as dancing. Hugging, dancing, and tight clothes can lead to sinful thoughts. Not to mention a wicked grin, washboard abs, and a happy trail sliding beneath a button fly.
I return Mimi’s hug because that’s how folks are around here. She kisses the air above my cheek. “Thank God you’re home. We have so much to catch up on,” she whispers next to my ear. I’m sure she knows of my memory loss, but I don’t know what to make of that. “Meredith is being her usual pain.”
I don’t know Meredith, but I can’t imagine her being a pain to anyone. I don’t want to make a premature judgment. I’m not sure about Mimi yet, and I’m adding her to the running tab of people who think Edie’s lying about amnesia. Or the ELAA list:
Dr. Lindbloom
Donovan
Burton
Old Edie
Magnus: he knows I’m lying
Oliver
And the jury is still out on:
Mimi
Marv
Claire
Meredith
Harold: not sure he knows who he is half the time.