Chapter 8: Dark Heart

New to the story? Start with Chapter 1, Broken Heart, here. Catching up? Reread Chapter 7, Iron Heart, here.

Scent Notes: Chai tea, espresso, frothed oatmilk, honey, a warm chocolate chip cookie on the side

“Gin!” Mabel shouted, throwing down her hand as the women around her groaned. “How do you always manage to win?” Gertrude practically shouted, throwing her cards at Mabel’s head. “I was one away! ONE! If we didn’t alternate houses and decks of cards, I’d accuse you of cheating. Heck, I still might.” Mabel just smiled and shook her head as she tallied her points. Brenda stood up and headed to Mabel’s kitchen while she muttered that gin was absolutely what she needed to deal with another round of cards with these biddies. It’s true: they were old biddies, but they were all friends, and these weekly (or twice-weekly) games of cards kept these ladies sharp. That’s what they liked to say, anyway. They also wagered money, drank a good deal of alcohol, and sometimes even smoked cigars while they played. What did they care? They were women in their mid-70s at the earliest, close to 90 at the oldest, though none of them would ever dare to admit their precise ages, especially not to each other. 

Just as Mabel was about to tell Brenda not to use all of the good gin because she had a date on Saturday, the front door opened and Joan walked in. “How badly is Mabel beating all of you?” Joan asked as she shut the door behind her. “TERRIBLY,” Gertrude yelled with her typical dramatic flair. Joan nodded knowingly. “That tracks,” she answered as she slipped out of her normal clogs and into the house slippers she kept here at Mabel’s house. In her left hand, she had a platter of homemade chocolate chip cookies. In her right hand, she had a to-go hot beverage cup full of a newfangled drink her granddaughter, Eve, had made her try: a chai tea latte. They were a favorite among her granddaughter and her friends at college. Joan remembered her days at college. She and her girlfriends had mostly drunk black coffee or vodka, but those were very different times from now, fresh into this new millennium, since the world did not completely collapse at midnight on January 1st as everyone had feared. Guess those computers were smarter than anticipated.

Joan went straight to the kitchen. She almost ran into Brenda, who was pouring heavy pours of gin in Mabel’s ornate crystal glasses she would never use except for special occasions, which is why Mabel used them every chance she could. “None for me,” Joan said as she put down her cookies. “I know, I know,” Mabel said, though she did tend to forget that Joan wasn’t a drinker once the alcohol came out. Honestly, Joan tried to play cards with the girls in the morning, before the booze came out, but that wasn’t an option today. She’d spent a lovely morning and early afternoon with Eve having breakfast and shopping before Eve had to drive back up to college. True, Eve only lived about thirty minutes away, but she was a young, busy woman earning her education and working at the same time, so she wasn’t around as often as Joan wanted her to be.

Spending time with her granddaughter made Joan feel young; spending too much time with her friends had the tendency to make her feel old. Which she was, of course, but she didn’t need to be reminded of it when her friends insisted on speaking of nothing but the past. Still, these were some of her oldest (pun intended) friends from when she moved into this neighborhood decades ago. They were all retired and widowed or divorced now. They needed company and things to do besides clean the house, garden, go shopping, or fret about their children and grandchildren like most women of a certain age. So, she spent a lot of her time with this little group of women, playing cards, gossiping, drinking various beverages, and eating baked goods.

“Did I see chocolate chip cookies?” Mabel asked as she scooted into her kitchen. It was not a large room, and the three women in there together made for a very tight fit. “You did indeed,” Joan answered, slithering out just in time for Gertrude to make her way in, and the three ladies started putting cookies on individual plates for themselves to accompany their gin. Joan took a sip of her latte. This whole chai tea thing was growing on her, the spices warming her chest and relaxing her even as she knew the caffeine was absolutely there thanks to the black tea and the shot of espresso that apparently made the drink a “dirty” chai. Joan didn’t care for the crass name, but she would absolutely drink this again. Eve and her friends were on to something. Clever girls. Joan took her usual seat at the table and sipped her chai.

“These cookies are PERFECT,” Gertrude said to murmured agreement from the other ladies as they made their way back to the table with their cookies and gin. Mabel’s table, as usual, was covered with one of her ornate plastic tablecloths because, at some point, someone would spill their drink all over the cards and table. It was usually Brenda, whose grip strength was quickly worsening, but sometimes it was Gertrude’s gesticulating and yelling about losing that could send a crystal glass flying, its contents ending up all over the cards and the assembled ladies equally. 

“We only have one or two rounds left until Mabel hits 500, so we’ll get you dealt in when the next round starts,” Brenda said as she scooped up the cards from the middle of the table and began shuffling. “No problem,” Joan said. “I might not stay long. My hands are itching to do some gardening on this lovely afternoon, but I made too many cookies for my granddaughter and knew you ladies would love to have some for today’s tournament of gin rummy, also known as, everyone loses $20 to Mabel once again.” Mabel beamed. “I can’t help it if I’m lucky at cards! Besides, that money barely covers the alcohol Brenda drinks me out of every week anyway.” Brenda glared and took a hearty gulp from the crystal glass. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to drink so much of your alcohol if you let other people win sometimes, Mabel.” “Ladies, enough,” Joan said, raising her eyebrow and giving them each a look that said, “Seriously, quit it before I flip this table and pour all the gin down the drain so nobody has any to drink.” Gertrude picked up her glass and took a large sip. “You sure you don’t want any, Joanie?” Joan hated when Gertrude called her Joanie. “No, Trudy, you know I don’t drink alcohol. Sam became an alcoholic after working in bars for decades, and I haven’t been able to touch the stuff since. Not even now that Sam’s been gone for so long….” Joan didn’t listen for a response, but did note that Gertrude noticed her usage of Gertrude’s much-hated nickname. The other ladies started talking and playing cards, and Joan began to think of the past, something she tried hard not to do. She remembered fun nights at bars: dancing and making out in secret rooms; visiting Sam behind the bar; tasting new cocktail recipes and helping Sam tweak the ingredients.

Of course, thinking of the happy times made her think of the dark times. The men who repeatedly made their presence known in private spaces and didn’t take no for an answer; the way both she and Sam had turned to alcohol to deal with their problems; watching alcohol then take away her love in a slow, brutal fashion. It had turned her heart dark, though you would never know by looking at Joan now, with her light pink cardigan, wrinkled skin, gray and white curly hair, and oversized glasses with a high prescription strength. She looked just like a kind old lady, like any grandma you could see on television or in your local diner at 4pm ordering a discounted dinner. And most days, she felt that way, but when she thought too much about the past, or saw people drinking copious amounts of liquor, she could feel her heart turning dark. Joan forced herself to return to the present, only to realize that Gertrude, Mabel, and Brenda were staring at her. “You alright?” Brenda asked. “Yeah you just kind of … drifted out of here,” Mabel said with what seemed like genuine concern. Gertrude just stared with a look of “The fuck is wrong with you?” as she slowly drained her glass. “Ha! Yes! Uh, just having a bit of a senior moment. Sorry. I got too involved thinking about the past, which you know I hate to do, because it just makes me feel….” Joan knew she couldn’t say “darker,” so she took a sip of her chai and cleared her throat. “It just upsets me, is all.” That was the closest to honest she could be, and to her relief, the other ladies nodded. “We all miss our husbands, too,” Brenda said gently, reaching her hand across the table to grasp Joan’s hand. “Speak for yourself,” said Gertrude as she stood up, wobbled a bit, and headed into the kitchen. “Well, those of us whose husbands died, not those of us who are divorced.” “THANK YOU,” Gertrude said as she re-entered the room with the bottle of gin and another glass. She set it in front of Joan and poured some gin inside. “Drink a little, babe. It’ll help you relax.” Mabel nodded. “Just a smidge might help you calm down?” 

Joan considered it. She picked up the glass and sniffed the contents. It smelled harsh, like a household cleanser. Maybe that meant it would help cleanse her mind? It was awfully tempting. It had been so long since she’d had any. Just a sip or two; not even a shot’s worth. What was the harm? What could happen? She lived basically next door; she didn’t have to drive anywhere. Not that she drove as much these days. Perhaps just a bit. She started to lift the glass to her mouth when Mabel’s phone rang, cutting through Joan’s brain. “NO!” she cried out, throwing the crystal onto the table. It was high quality, so it did not shatter, but the gin went everywhere. Mabel had stood to answer the phone in the kitchen while Brenda and Gertrude began cleaning up. “This is why Mabel has to keep a tablecloth out at all times with us around,” Gertrude mumbled as she picked up the wet cards. Joan remained perfectly still. She could feel her heart racing, and knew how close she’d been to doing something she’d regret. It took three tries for Mabel to finally get Joan’s attention. “JOANIE! Your granddaughter Eve is on the phone!” “What is the MATTER with her today?” Gertrude stage whispered, aka yelled, to Brenda, who just shrugged in response. 

Joan took the receiver from Mabel’s outstretched hand. “Eve, darling? What is it?” “Grandma, I’m so sorry. You always told me to call if I was feeling weird, and I’m at a bar with my friends, and it’s weird. There’s this guy who won’t leave us alone, and I don’t–” Joan cut her granddaughter off. “Tell me the name of the place and I will be there in fifteen minutes,” Joan said, her voice like ice. The three other women were watching Joan and saw the intensity in her eyes; they heard the change in her voice. They saw Joan nod and tell her granddaughter she was on her way. “I have to go,” Joan said, charging back toward the front door. “Wait!” Mabel cried. “You haven’t played! You just sat at the table and acted all weird. What’s the rush?” “There’s at least one, possibly more, creepy man bothering my granddaughter. I taught her to call me if she was ever uncomfortable, and she called me at your house to find me. Something is wrong, and I am going to take care of it.” Gertrude waved her hand dismissively. “Pffft. She’s a young girl, of course boys are going to be all over her. It’s natural. She’s fine. Stay here and play cards. I bet the boy is harmless.” “Exactly,” Brenda agreed. “I met my husband at a bar. Boys will be boys. Let the kids flirt; they’re in college.”

Joan’s icy voice came back. She didn’t yell at her friends; if anything, her voice was quieter than they’d ever heard. “You don’t know what someone’s heart looks like. Even the kindest-looking person can have a dark heart.” Her voice dropped even lower. “You don’t know what someone’s heart looks like until you take it out of their chest yourself.” The other women stood looking shocked. Joan’s eyes had gone dark; the women were actually afraid and found themselves clinging to each other in surprise. A moment later, Joan’s bright and smiling face had returned as she put her regular shoes back on. “See you ladies next week. I’ll host and make a cake, okay?” Her eyes sparkled as she blew them each a kiss and headed out the door.