Summer Melody

Chapter 8 - Bonnie

"You've got to be kidding me." Bonnie surveyed Vivian's living room, its floor covered in a foamy sea of lavender mesh net. "What on earth are you doing?"

"You mean, what are we doing?" Vivian grabbed a pair of scissors off the dining room table. "I figured as long as you were coming over, I'd enlist your help in making sachets for the wedding."

She took a deep breath. "Vivian," she said softly, trying to remain cool, "I need to talk to you about Mother. I told you that on the phone."

"I know we need to talk about Mother." Vivian mimicked her tone. "But I don't see why you can't give me a hand as long as you're here."

Bonnie sighed, conceding defeat. "If I'm going to be drafted in this sweatshop, I need coffee."

Vivian headed back to the ribbon and mesh. "Go ahead and make some if you want. I'll take a cup too, while you're at it." As Bonnie went into the kitchen, she saw Vivian scrutinizing her ribbon choices.

Searching the cupboards, she finally found the coffee and filters. This had to be a new record. Vivian didn't usually reach critical irk levels for at least half an hour. She might be forty-two, but honestly, sometimes she acted more self-obsessed than Jane did at fourteen. Every time they saw each other, Bonnie came away from the visit feeling prickly and wanting a stiff drink. She’d reached a point where she dealt with her sister only when absolutely necessary.

When the coffee had brewed, Bonnie carried two cups out to the living room and handed one to Vivian. "You're looking fit," she said, thinking privately that her sister's sinewy tautness made her look hard and tough, like a stringy chicken.

"Thanks. I'm training for the 25 K that's coming up next month. We'll see if I beat my time from last year."

"It amazes me that you still run marathons at your age." Bonnie sat down on the couch. "I feel like a lump of overcooked pasta next to you."

Vivian sipped her coffee delicately. "I'll let the crack about my age pass – and yes, you are a lump of overcooked pasta next to me. You're not too old to take up running. I first took it up when I was your age, in my naïve attempt to spend some time with Meg when she was on the cross-country team in high school." She laughed mirthlessly. "You remember, that short period where Meg actually wanted to do anything with me. It was good while it lasted."

Bonnie looked down into her coffee. Vivian didn't know what Meg had told her – that she'd stopped running after her mother had entered them in a 10 K together and then beaten her. Meg had thought she wanted them to run the race together. It hadn't bothered her until Vivian treated it like a big competition. She gloated about the win for weeks, giving Meg 'constructive criticism' on improving her form. Bonnie resolved then and there not to take up any sport Jane went for, in the unlikely event that would ever happen.

Bonnie switched tactics. "Have you talked to Meg this week? How's Brady doing?"

"Not well. I’ve been calling Meg every day for reports. He's still on painkillers and emotionally a wreck. I mean, Meg doesn’t say that, but it seems pretty clear. That poor boy." Vivian clucked her tongue sympathetically.

"I know. You always think it could never happen to you."

"Exactly! It's like when Pastor Magnuson had that heart attack on the golf course and died. It's so shocking. You feel like your world is spinning off its axis."

Bonnie let the reference to Vivian's pastor slide away. Vivian had been trying to "save" Bonnie and her children, bring them into her church, for years now. Bonnie possessed a mental switch that now shut off her hearing at any mention of Vivian's church or its members. She suggested, "Meg and Brady should postpone the wedding. Give themselves a chance to catch their breath. Certainly no one would blame them if they wanted to change the date to later in the fall."