Taddy hung up. Then she finished the Baden Cosmetics detox beverage. It tasted as close to shit as she ever wanted to come. She showered the mud off her body. Once in bed she tried to sleep. Nightmares about being abandoned woke her at midnight, again at three and five a.m. Just when she dozed off the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Taddy, I’m dying,” Birdie cried.
The doctor was ready to give his diagnosis.
* * * * *
“Eddie, I’m coming. I’ll be dead before the New Year,” Birdie chanted over and over again as if it were lyrics from one of her songs. She stayed for seven days. Observed, tested and analyzed. Medical reports concluded the same as what Dr. Fassenbender had speculated. Birdie did not have Stevens-Johnson syndrome. Rather acne rosacea, a mild case no less. Brought on by an at-home peel application she’d stolen from her local plastic surgeon’s office on East 63rd Street. She’d made it all worse with a Crème de La Switzerland night cream application, which had expired ages ago, but she was too cheap to replace.
“When I finish with you—you’ll wish you were dead,” Taddy mumbled to herself in Birdie’s direction. Concord Van General Hospital charged $175,253.84 to her American Express and somehow she managed not to even blink. She questioned herself as to why she even got involved to begin with. Dr. Fassenbender was right. Why didn’t she listen to him? When Taddy looked over at Lex, she remembered it was all for her. Not Birdie. Acne rosacea aside, this stunt didn’t hide the fact that Birdie was still in pain from losing Eddie. This was a cry for help, an expensive one at that.
Tempted to tell Birdie off, she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. This one takes the cake of all buttercream frosted cakes to take. Jesus. I don’t ask for much in life. I don’t get much in life. But you owe me. I’m not keeping a scorecard or anything, but you better write this puppy down. She splashed her face with cold water and then texted Kiki to confirm Birdie’s seat on the plane ride home. Taddy didn’t want to see her, let alone sit by her. Birdie sat in the last row, middle seat, near the lavatory in economy.
Booked in first class, Lex scoured over Harper’s Bazaar and ate sugar candy. Taddy required a good laugh and watched the movie My Man Godfrey. She identified with the character Irene Bullock, an all-over-the-place socialite desperate for love who falls for her butler, a man who cared for her every need. However, did a man similar to William Powell’s character really exist? Taddy felt clueless as to how any such devotion felt, but the desire for a man similar to Mr. Godfrey Park was starting to increase.
* * * * *
December 30
JFK Airport, Queens New York
An Air Canada flight attendant came over the aircraft intercom when they landed back home and announced, “Good morning, welcome to JFK International Airport. The local time is 8:10 a.m. The temperature in New York City is minus fifteen degrees. From your entire flight crew, have a happy holiday wherever your final destination may take you.”
“Why is New Year’s Eve always the coldest week of the year in this city?” She grabbed her Louis Vuitton roller bag off the carousel and noticed an advertisement above the signage. The slogan read “Leave Your Socks at Home. Dance Barefoot in the Caribbean This Season”. It spoke to Taddy as if she’d penned the damn jingle herself. “Lex,” she whispered over to her friend who drooled at the poster. “Are you thinking what I am?”
“Give me ten minutes.” Lex picked up Birdie’s luggage, then grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Alexandra!” Birdie shouted as Lex tugged at her old mink coat. One Eddie bought for her when he’d won his first Grammy.
“Let’s go outside, Mother.” Lex marched Birdie to the taxi stand.
Taddy watched from the windows. Lex put Birdie in a yellow cab and shouted to the driver, “Manhattan.” Slamming her fist down on the car’s hood, Lex gave a tight smile. “Happy New Year, Mother!” A quick turn and she was headed back inside Terminal Seven, determined to go someplace warm.
“This is why we remain friends.” Taddy hugged her.
Away from Birdie, Lex broke down once they reached the check-in area. “I’m sorry my mom ruined our Christmas.” She pulled Taddy into a nearby bathroom.
“It’s not the first holiday she’s messed up.” Disgusted at their get-up, Taddy frowned at the bathroom mirror. “We look like shit.” They’d flown for over seven hours. She reached for some facial tissues.
“Remember my dad on Thanksgiving?” Lex chuckled. She had a way of seeing humor even through the bad times. “My mom didn’t always ruin our special times. Dad ruled as king of wreck-the-holidays long before her.”
“How could I forget? We must’ve been ten or eleven. Eddie, may he rest in peace, with his own rock-n-roll float in the Macy’s parade.” She held onto the sink to brace herself while she fixed the sock riding up in her snow boot.
“NBC producers didn’t expect to secure such an erotic pan shot. My dad being ridden by his backup singer as fifty million viewers tuned in at home.” Lex laughed.
“It’s nice to see you smile again.” As they crept closer to thirty, it became easier to poke fun at their childhood.
“I promise I’ll pay you back, Taddy, for my mom’s hospital visit…I will. Easton Essentials is taking off. The money will flow in soon.”
“Darling, if Birdie had kicked it six feet under, I’d say not to worry about reimbursement.” She pulled her close, fixing her hair and whispered, “With Birdie living on to wreak havoc—you’ll return every dollar plus ten percent interest.”
Lex pulled back. “You understand why Mom is this way—don’t you?” Tears streamed down her porcelain face.
“Eddie.” Taddy wiped her friend’s cheeks. Their parents’ bad choices sewed a common thread between them. Birdie had become Eddie’s fashion doll and life sacrifice. Her mother, Countess Irma, had lost herself and Taddy as her daughter a long time ago. Taddy couldn’t discern which felt worse, Birdie being a nut job but still keeping one foot in the game, or her mother sitting penthouse classy, going along with whatever her husband demanded but abandoning her kid. Either way, both women had left scars.
Lex shook her head and tried to answer her own question. “Yes…promise me something, Taddy.” Her best friend gazed at her with an expectation.