1 #Cousins

June 15, 2017

Thursday

No one could’ve asked for a more beautiful evening in Greenwich Village.  The sun had begun to wane in a cloudless sky, the temperature held at an idyllic seventy degrees, and a light breeze carried the promise of summer.  Those who strolled by weren’t living in anticipation of the imminent heat and humidity, however.  They relished the unsullied perfection of today, and smiles were cast toward the woman who hovered outside a Cuban restaurant.

Firmly ingrained etiquette was the sole reason Teddi Montgomery returned those smiles.

Unobtrusively twisting the four delicate rings stacked on her middle finger, she wasn’t enchanted by this weatherman’s dream.  She wasn’t enthralled with the classic New York buzz.  The uproar of laughter from the restaurant didn’t make her want to laugh along with the diners. 

As lovely as it all may be to someone else, she would rather be sequestered within the climate-controlled walls of her Rumson, New Jersey house.   An evening spent with her electronic devices didn’t necessitate Xanax, meditation rings and a sadly under-dosed aromatherapy necklace.  

She fingered the filigree casing while regretting her optimism in dotting the stone inside with a single drop of anti-anxiety oil blend. There was so little scent that implanting it inside her left nostril wouldn’t do a thing to ease her anxiety.  The teardrop pendant needed a full-blown baptism of lavender to get her through this night.

It only fed a decades’-old belief that her maternal cousins would be the death of her. 

Another round of boisterous laughter from the open-air restaurant had Teddi flinching inside, but years of practice preserved her exterior façade.  A subdued smile kept lips slightly tilted, and there was no unsightly creasing of forehead or eyes in the rehearsed pose that revealed nothing. 

Tonight’s outfit in the blandest shade of taupe was more expressive than Teddi’s face.

The cashmere cardigan, slacks and ballet flats were carefully selected for this outing, with each unremarkably hued garment chosen to draw the least possible attention.  Even the contrasting ivory silk tank beneath her sweater wasn’t enough to catch the eye of anyone in this quirky niche of the city.  

Unlike the woman who was sauntering up the street. 

Inky hair was thrown back as her laugh carried melodically down the block, and chandelier earrings brushed shoulders left bare by a flamboyant sundress.  The kaleidoscope of fabric swished around her ankles in a vibrant dance, offering the occasional peep of purple toenails as her sandals scuttled along the sidewalk.

In a word, she was vivacious. 

Although Teddi knew that the woman had turned fifty-one just last week, her age was indiscernible and irrelevant to the casual observer.  The appeal of this creature was not dependent upon youth but charisma, and heads turned to instinctively smile after her and the man whose arm she held.   

The only common denominators between the pair were dark hair, an olive complexion and golden-brown eyes.  Whereas she was distinctive and eye-catching, he in worn jeans and a Yankees tee, was any of a million nameless New Yorkers.  It was only when his gray-sprinkled head tipped to grin at the tale his partner was spinning that one could see he held the same allure in masculine form.

Teddi's primary goal in life was to blend into the woodwork, while this pair – her cousins – were genetically incapable of it.  Magdalene was one of the brightest leaves of the Bihari family tree, and her brother Stefan undeniably hailed from the same branch.

Teddi was a root somewhere at the bottom, happily buried under a pile of mulch.

“Happy Ides of June!” Magdalene sang, twirling her into an exuberant hug before stepping back to smooth the hair that was clasped with a barrette at Teddi’s nape.  “Sorry.  Mustn’t rumple Her Royal Highness.”

“Don’t start teasing already, Maggie.”  Swiftly bending to kiss an upturned cheek, Stefan's greeting was a bit less dramatic.  “It’s good to see you, Ted.  Happy birthday.”

The spicy scent they both carried brought back memories of at least a dozen other occasions just like this and enveloped Teddi in anxiety-riddled nostalgia.   She hated being lured into the city, but she did love her cousins. 

Having been forcibly estranged from her mother’s family at an early age, Teddi’s upbringing was as different from theirs as night and day.  Her paternal family painstakingly painted her as a conservative Rembrandt, while her maternal relatives were an eclectic assortment of Picassos and Dalis.  Each Bihari had their own unique personality twist, which is why they were so accepting of Teddi’s artfully disguised idiosyncrasies.  To them, her imperfections were the most interesting part of who she was.

That’s why they liked to bring them into the limelight.

“Whaat?” Magdalene protested with an animated shrug, accompanied by lifted hands.  “She’s family!  I can’t play with her a little?”

“It’s alright, Stef.  If that’s tonight’s worst embarrassment, I’ll consider it a victory.”  It was far less humiliating than a flaming cake and restaurant birthday hat worn by a hundred people before her.  “And happy birthday to you both.  Where are Kizzy and Catarina?”

No “Ides of June” was complete without the full complement of Marko and Mirela Bihari’s grandchildren.  Kizzy was an only child and the eldest, born June twenty-second.  A year later, Stefan arrived on June seventeenth.  It was two years before his sister Maggie made her appearance on June twelfth, and the next June brought their sister Catarina on the first, followed by Teddi on the seventh. 

All but Teddi had always celebrated their birthdays together on June fifteenth, and in 1983 Kizzy stood up to the powers that be to declare that 16-year-old Teddi would join them.  Shockingly enough, there was no refusal – thus, the Ides of June was born. 

Like the Ides of March, which was the day Romans set aside for settling debts, the cousins used the Ides of June as their opportunity to cash in on missed promises of visits.  Stefan and Catarina still lived in the area and came to see Teddi from time to time, but Kizzy was in Chicago and Maggie in San Francisco.  This annual event gave them a reason to come home, because all the cousins were required to attend.

In recent years, Teddi’s favorite relative from the other side of the family – her cousin Tori – had even begun joining the celebration, even though her birthday was in late May.  They’d all declared it close enough and welcomed her to the party.  Unfortunately, a dance recital prevented Tori from attending tonight and earned Teddi’s envy.

She’d give anything not to be here, but the memory of last time she tried to ditch this soirèe was permanently emblazoned in her mind. 

On evening of the celebration, the whole group had trekked out to her house and bodily removed her with nothing more than a two-minute warning to take a sedative and meditate “or whatever the hell she did”.  There was just enough time to brush her hair, put on some lipstick and pop a pill before they shepherded her off to a seafood restaurant for oyster shooters.

That incident taught Teddi to pull herself up by the bootstraps and be at the designated location on June fifteenth.  It was bad enough coming out among the living when she psyched herself up for it, but with such short notice that night, she’d been a basket case until after the third drink.

“Kizzy is staying with Cat and they were taking the train in from Jersey.  They’re supposed to be here by now.”  Twisting his head one direction and then the other, Stefan scanned the length of the block in search of them.  “But you know how Cat is.”

Perpetually late; that’s how Catarina was, and Kizzy wouldn’t be happy about it when they arrived.  

“I’m guessing you didn’t get us a table yet?”

Stefan hooted with laughter at his sister’s question and Teddi’s answering blank stare.  “Maggie, you’ve known her your whole life.  Since when does she step foot in a crowded restaurant without us pushing her?”  

One fuchsia-tipped hand lifted dismissively.  “Eh.  I thought maybe she’d try something different now that she’s fifty.  Go get us a table, Stef.”

With a grin and slow shake of his salt and pepper head, the lone male for tonight’s outing ducked into the restaurant and rum bar to do his sister’s bidding.

“You’re looking well, Magdalene,” Teddi observed with a reserved smile while shifting her cross-body Marc Jacobs purse.  Changing the subject was more pleasant than dwelling on her social shortcomings, no matter how much they amused the cousins.  “California continues to treat you well.”

“Yeah.  Napa Valley is fucking idyllic, but it’s not home.  I’m thinking of visiting a couple places upstate while I’m here.  See about moving back East.”

Having developed a fascination with wine at a very early age, Maggie had gone to the Napa Valley in search of a career that suited her palate.  It took a decade of learning the business from the ground up, but she worked herself into senior salesperson at one of the larger, family-owned labels.   From her reports, they loved her there, but she often spoke of moving back to New York.  So often that no one took it seriously anymore.  The standard was to smile, wish her well and move onto the next subject. 

“That would be wonderful.  I’m sure you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”

A firm hand came up to pat Teddi’s cheek as Magdalene grinned with affection.  “Always so perfectly polite and politically correct.  I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much.”

“I feel the same way when you drag me out in public.”

A light whistle had both women’s heads turning to find Stefan gesturing them inside and directing, “We’re upstairs.”

Grateful for the opportune timing, Teddi took a deep breath.  Typical of New York bars and restaurants, it was small, with every available inch put to good use.  That meant the tables were close together and the people even more so. 

Both elbows were tucked tight to her sides as she followed Maggie past the old man rolling cigars and through the crowd of patrons.  

I’m standing alone in an open field of lavender.  Not suffocating inside a cloud of noise and bodies.

The meditation rings that were whirling like crazy may end up severing Teddi’s finger if she didn’t get a drink soon.  All her neck and shoulder muscles were fiercely clenched while her insides hummed with the din of the crowd.  An erratic heart pounded inside her throat as they climbed the narrow staircase to find that the upstairs was actually a balcony – and surprisingly quieter. 

In the narrow space defined by two adjacent brick walls and a length of wrought iron railing, there were only half a dozen tables.  Two of the three next to the rail had been pushed together for their group, and two more on the wall sat unoccupied.  That left two tables of six strangers sharing the cozy confines with the birthday party.

Six people she could possibly ignore, but Teddi still chose a chair that put her back to the majority of the diners.  Stefan sat across from her, and the view behind his head was a gauzy canopy that draped from the ceiling, offering a sense of privacy to the balcony.  Knowing that thin fabric fluttering in the breeze was her only hope for a meditative focal point, she embraced it.

The setting wasn’t going to lull her into contentment, but she wouldn’t melt down before the drinks began flowing. 

“So, when are you ever going to get remarried?”

Then again, this family could easily inspire a meltdown before the first sip of alcohol. 

Reaching for the beverage menu that stood on the table, Teddi neutrally responded, “I have no plans to remarry, Magdalene.”

The fact that she’d answered this same question each birthday and Christmas in the seven years since her husband Truman’s death didn’t matter.  Until she provided the answer they wanted to hear, her cousins would continue to prod with the hope that she’d marry the "right" man this time around.

Because a successful investment banker wasn’t a suitable mate for her, according to these cousins.  They were more interested in a rich soul and fiery spirit than a man’s net worth.  Her father's family, however had deemed Truman the ideal partner for a marital merger – stable, with good lineage and solid financial holdings.

Two out of three wasn’t bad.

She and her late husband may not have been what one would consider soulmates, but their twelve-year marriage was amicable and Teddi missed him.  If nothing else, Truman accepted her social anxiety and didn’t mind that she’d rather stay home than attend a gala.  There was the occasional event that couldn’t be declined, and for those he'd held her hand and provided a steady flow of wine or champagne.

Now there was no one to distract and protect her from all the peering eyes. 

It was truly the worst part of being a widow.  That's why she worked from the home where she spent ninety-eight percent of her days and nights.

“I can set you up with a friend of mine, if you’re… you know.  Lonely.”

Snapping her eyes from the mojito menu to Stefan, Teddi frowned at his joining of the cause.  He was usually inclined to sit quietly while his sisters and Kizzy played matchmaker.  

“Are you referring to a date or stud service?  Actually, I’d rather not know.  That’s very kind, but I don’t need either.”

“You’ve got passion in your soul,” Maggie argued.  “Bottling it up isn’t healthy.  This is why you’re such a recluse and afraid of the world.”

She placed the drink menu back in the center of the table, having decided on a cucumber mint concoction.  “Am I to understand that you’re attributing my social anxiety to sexual repression?”

“I’m just sayin’ a screaming orgasm would release some of that tension you carry around.”

“Hey, hey, hey!”  Stef’s hands came up to cover his ears.  “I don’t wanna hear that!”

His horror was an unexpected source of amusement, as was Maggie’s repression theory, and Teddi found herself laughing quietly.  They had no idea what went on in her private world, and while screaming wasn’t involved, she didn’t lack for orgasms.  They were an indulgence she claimed on a regular basis.

In fact, she planned to have one at a nearby hotel later, as a reward for surviving this dinner. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Maggie.”

A waitress appeared then, bearing menus and – thank goodness – taking drink orders.  She was just stepping away when the two missing members of their dinner party blew onto the balcony like the forces of nature they were.

Both requested that the waitress bring them whatever Maggie was having, and Kizzy plunked onto the chair beside Teddi.  From the seat beyond that, Catarina leaned forward with wide eyes to exclaim, “You are not going to believe who we just saw down the block!”

Having given up the meditation rings to rub the aromatherapy pendant between her thumb and forefinger, Teddi diligently sought not to absorb the other woman’s agitation.  As the two youngest of the group, they couldn’t be any more different.  Whereas she sought serenity, Cat was a thrill-seeking bundle of energy, and that energy could be an infectious plague.

Breathe.  Calm air in.  Anxiety out. 

Stef was so used to his sister’s theatrics, that he was completely unaffected and offered only a bored, “Who?”

Cat’s golden eyes didn’t even flicker his way, holding Teddi’s for a dramatic beat.

Unfortunately, the one extra beat was all Kizzy needed to clamp a multi-ringed hand over Cat’s open mouth and seal the breath inside.  Their cousin could only offer a muffled squeak of outrage as she was denied the privilege of announcing… 

“We saw Jon... Bon… Jovi!”