25

IDA’S FOLLY

“Isn’t it wonderful about how everyone is so nice around here?” Sophie says to Bella as they wave to a neighbor.

Ida fumes, but then she calms herself thinking that they’ll be singing a different tune when she makes fools of them in front of everyone. Today will be part one of her plan. Hopefully it won’t take too many weeks before she gets called on by her “dead husband.” She doesn’t want to be stuck in that so-called club longer than she has to.

When they reach Jerry’s, she follows the girls to the curtained back door. Jerry smirks as she passes. Ida is tempted to stick her tongue out at him—just wait till he sees what she’ll be doing to his business. It’ll wipe that sneer from his face once and for all.

They enter the back room. Ida looks around, taking it all in. She shakes her head. Wow. She has to admire the setup. Very holistic and New Age. Very smart.

Continuing to ignore Ida, the girls pay their five bucks and head for seats.

Ida fills out the little entrance agreement. Clever. The “members” are not supposed to tell people about this place unless they believe they’ll join. They want no hostility to destroy the guru’s “home of peace.” Too late, thinks Ida with a grin—the cat is in the mouse house. And ready to gobble them up. After signing the agreement, she makes a show of being impressed with the books and vitamins and incense. “I always wanted to know about chakras and stuff,” she insincerely tells Jerry’s wife, who sits at the small table with the cigar box of money open and waiting.

When the woman explains that she has to leave her purse in the closet, Ida pretends to be impressed. “What a good idea. Keeping the room pure.” Then she manages to form a worry line on her forehead. “Are you sure our purses are safe in there? I do have a bit of money with me.”

Jerry’s wife assures her as she folds her arms. “Nobody gets past me.”

Yeah, sure, thinks Ida, picturing the homely daughter waiting to paw through her personal things. As she places her purse lovingly in the closet she silently says bye to her so-called letter. Do the job, babe, sucker them in.

She takes off her shoes and lines them up with all the others, then makes her way to a seat. All thirty chairs are taken except for two. Bella and Sophie sit at the end of a row. Sophie holds her hand on one of the last empty chairs next to her. Ida knows it’s to keep her away. Not a chance. She walks straight to them. “Is this chair taken?”

“Yes,” Sophie says. “No,” Bella says at the same time. Ida parks herself right there, forcing Sophie to remove her hand or have it sat on.

The guru makes his entrance. Ida is thoroughly enjoying herself. She thinks he’s perfect for the part—like he’s in some movie, picked out by central casting. As they do their “ohm,” he lowers himself down on his pillow and everyone bows. Ida can hardly keep a straight face, but she bows along with them. Ohm indeed.

Baba speaks. “Today we will practice the meditation of the root chakra.”

Jerry’s wife walks up to the table behind her son and lights the incense sticks. Ida squirms. She hates the smell of incense. But she has to laugh at Jerry’s wife, now wearing some schmatte on her head trying to look like a religious Indian woman instead of the silly housewife she really is. Sophie and Bella stare straight ahead, never glancing at her.

Baba Vishnu speaks softly. “Breathe slowly and deeply. Visualize yourself in a perfect place, a very special place, one that made you happy. See it. Concentrate on it. Recognize the beautiful colors. See who is there to share your joy.”

Ida sneaks looks around, fascinated by the rapt expressions on the women’s faces. It reminds her of the circus of olden days with the slick guys who sold snake oil. What was it Barnum said—or was it Bailey? “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

“Feel their love radiating toward you, filling you with happiness.” Baba raises his arms.

Ida watches as woman by woman, they smile contentedly. Yeah, she thinks, I’m thinking of a happy place. This deli when the police raid it. She almost giggles. Then, suddenly she finds herself thinking of her Murray. She never thinks about him. Ever. She feels sad and doesn’t know why. She senses tears form in her eyes. What’s happening to her?

The chimes ring out behind Baba. Softly. Everyone looks up excitedly. Ida gets it. Obviously this is the moment they’re really here for. Baba stares out at them, benevolently. It seems like all the women are holding their collective breaths. To Ida, it looks like the guru’s trying to go into a trance, but he’s probably counting the house to see how much he’ll take in today.

Ida recognizes Linda Rutledge of Phase Three, a sweet gentle lady of seventy who always wears purple. Her wheelchair is parked in front of Sophie. Linda turns to her and whispers, “It’s gonna be my turn this time. I just know it.”

Sophie says, “Me, too. I feel my Stanley’s vibes.”

The guru speaks out in a “dead husband” voice. “Linda, my angel. Where are you? I am here for my wife, Linda Rutledge. It’s Seymour.”

Linda gasps, practically jumping up and down in her wheelchair in excitement. She automatically pats her hair to neaten it. “Yes! I knew it! I’m here, Seymie, yes, indeedy. How are you, sweetums? Are they treating you okay?”

Ida watches the guru move his lips. She shakes her head. Unbelievable that all these women would fall for Erwin Blatstein’s bag of tricks.

“Seymour” sounds bereft. “It’s lonely without you, honey bun. When are you coming to join me?”

Linda is startled and then flustered. “I don’t know. Oh, I would if I could, you know that. When you passed, I asked the good Lord to take me, too.”

“Seymour’s” voice grows cool. “It’s another guy, isn’t it? You’ve got another guy taking my place.”

Ida watches, enthralled as Linda’s face reddens. “It’s only Mr. Finster, downstairs. But we haven’t done anything. He likes my chicken soup.”

“Seymour” is furious. “I turn my back on you for sixteen years and what do you do? You cheat on me!”

“Seymour, no! We’re just good friends!” Linda looks pleadingly at Baba. But Baba shakes his head. “Seymour” has hung up.

Linda cries daintily into a tissue as Sophie pats her shoulder in condolence.

The chimes ring gently again. Everyone perks up. Who’s next?

A voice rings out cheerily from Baba’s lips. “‘I got buttons, I got bows. Where they came from, nobody knows.’”

Sophie jumps up so fast that she knocks her chair over. “It’s Stanley. It’s my Stanley’s advertising slogan for Meyerbeer’s Notions. Stanley, is it really you?”

Ida has to admire the guru’s ability to capture the personality of a man he’s never met. She remembers Stanley. He was a huckster through and through. The guru is pretty quick. He must have been a frustrated actor before he turned into this shyster.

“Stanley” speaks. “You look good, Soph, but you put on a few pounds.”

Sophie sighs. “Crying over losing you. You know I tend to eat when I’m sad.”

“Stanley” comments as if he were looking her up and down. “You always was a good dresser. You could take a belt and a buckle and a scarf and make a Hester Street outfit look like Fifth Avenue.”

“That’s ‘cause you taught me how. I miss you, poopsie. All the time.”

Bella, next to her, is clutching Sophie’s arm and sobbing.

“I gotta go, doll face, but a word of advice. Someone near is not your friend. Beware.”

And with that, “Stanley” is gone.

Ida is startled as Sophie whips her eyes around and stares into hers. “I know who my darling meant,” she says ominously. “So keep your distance.”

The guru ends the session and Sophie happily pays for the “long-distance phone call.”

Ida grits her teeth. Just you wait, she thinks.