Nonnie and Drago Have Three Big Days

On December 1st my ex-husband and I settled our settlement. He gave me a lovely cashier’s check, we went to Panera’s, where he had an Italian sandwich, I had a scone, and we both had coffee in mugs. (You can ask for a mug in most of these coffee places you know-saves trees and helps your spirits.) Then he drove me home, and said hello to my brother, Drago. This settlement took years to get to. I didn’t even have a lawyer anymore. She’d given up and moved to Alabama. (Okay, maybe she had other reasons as well.) The morning went smoothly, diplomatically, a bit nostalgically, and it was all absofuckinglutely wrong.

My former husband was thinner and healthier-looking than I’ve ever seen him and I was a moon-faced, eye-patch wearing, cane-dependant wreck. I’ve had eye surgery for two retinal tears and a retinal hole and have had to take steroid eye drops which have given me facial edema (Drago concurs) and since I still can’t see anything but light and dark blobs, oh, and blue for some reason, I have to wear this black patch so that my good eye has a fighting chance. Hardly charming. A woman who’s gone through a divorce, hasn’t remarried, and hasn’t seen “him” for four years would want to be a slender, better-looking-than-ever, poised, witty and graceful Meryl Streepish knock-out, dontchathink?  I’ve used a cane for years, because of balance issues due to body part fails that we can talk about some other time, but what with nerves, vision decrepitude, and shock at how good my ex looked, I wobbled even with my support system, my little carp. (My cane was hand-carved in Italy and is topped with a fish head with green glass eyes that fits my hand perfectly. I love it.)

On December 2nd, Drago went to his most excellent doctor/friend and got the beautiful news that his throat (which there was reasonable worry about) did not look cancerous, and that Dr. Daube didn’t even need to see him again for three months. My brother has had AIDS since the early eighties and he’s survived cancer three times already, so this put us seriously in the frabjous day range. To celebrate my plump check and our hearty relief over his news, we went shopping on December 3rd. Old furniture in our Florida room needed replacing, and now I could get to it.

The first place we went was a bummer. I think I scared the saleslady with my eye-patch and fishcane. She said hello and then found other people to help. But the next store we went into was just the thing. I bought a burgundy leather couch and recliner. It’s so nice to have money to spend, isn’t it? Then, since we were right there and in simultaneous good moods, we went into an antique store across the street. I’d been before, but Drago never had. I was a little nervous about knocking something over, but my brother thought I could manage the winding paths through the treasures and junk (I mean why would someone want a collection of old lunchboxes?) if I was careful. We found, then lost, then found again, the perfect table for an awkward spot in our house and an intriguing porcelain lamp called to Drago.  So I bought the table and he bought the lamp, and we headed home, each of us tired, but satisfied. We’re going to get the carpets cleaned, too. I’ll pay.