Relative Merits

Fortunately the monkey was tame, the snakes were not poisonous, and all were returned to their cages. The police were seeking a woman of medium height and weight, with curly auburn hair, who was accompanied by three young children, as a person of interest in the case. Something about the report seemed to strike a chord, but Julia’s memory remained fuzzy. She made herself a cup of coffee and settled down with the newspaper she picked up from the coffee table.

“If at first you don’t succeed.” the subheading under the words “Relative Exchange” read. There followed a list of “Additional Relatives Available for No-Obligation Trial.” Julia started reading the listings, vaguely aware that they seemed somehow different than the ones she’d read in the paper the previous day.

“*Lucien,” the first listing said. “Fiftyish banker, divorced father of four, struggling to survive in difficult economic times. Devoted to his children but careful with money. Very organized and responsible, appreciates punctuality. Commanding personality”

The one just under that read “*Greta. Married mother of four who works in customer service is determined to maintain New Ithaca home in spite of reduced circumstances. Currently engaged in court battle with ex-husband over child support.”

An asterisk at the bottom of the column indicated that these two relatives were available as a package. Julia, who had a subconscious habit of tapping her well-chewed nub of pencil on whatever paper was in front of her, tapped away on the word “package” without realizing it. Her cell phone rang. When she finally managed to dig it out of her shoulder bag, she did not recognize the number, but it had a New Ithaca exchange. I don’t know anyone in New Ithaca, she thought to herself. New Ithaca was a very upscale community just a few miles south of middle-class New Windsor. Julia answered the phone.

“Oh, Julia, I’m so glad I caught you,” breathed the voice on the other end of the line between sobs. “Can we do lunch?”

“Who…who is this?” squeaked Julia.

“Greta, your cousin Greta,” the voice hiccuped. Julia stared down at the Third Rail. Flashes of memory from the previous day jostled around the edges of her consciousness.

“Are you bringing the kids?” she asked tentatively.

“No, no,” came the reply. I just really need a sympathetic adult to talk to. Pleease! Just us girls. That man is driving me nuts. Both of them are, actually. I just really need to talk.”

Julia agreed to meet Greta at noon at the New Ithaca Panera without really thinking and was about to ask Greta how she would know her when the phone, which hadn’t been charged in a while, died. Julia sighed, plugged the phone into the charger and undressed to get into the shower. Inexplicably, coffee grounds, cake crumbs and an empty Equal packet fell from her clothes as she removed them.

Julia didn’t have to be at work at Dastardly Deeds, the local mystery bookshop, until two p.m., so she indulged in a manicure and pedicure before meeting Greta. Today she chose to wear flats rather than heels; she could only find the left shoe of her favorite pair of stilettos anyway.
Julia, who was proud of her punctuality, arrived at Panera at five minutes before noon. And waited. And waited, examining each woman who came though the door during the next twenty five minutes. Finally, at twenty past the hour, a thirty-something woman clad in Donna Karan and carrying a huge Coach bag over her shoulder under blond-streaked hair, sailed in the door and over to where Julia sat, increasingly dejected and mad at herself for agreeing to this meeting.

“Oh, it’s sooo good of you to come. I’m completely frazzled!” This strange woman kissed the air at the side of Julia’s cheek.

Julia tried not to wince. “Greta, you’re looking good!”

Over sandwiches and salad, which Greta claimed to be too upset to eat, yet which she picked at until hers was gone, Greta vented her woes, continually asking “What do you think of that?” and “Aren’t I right?” but giving Julia no time to answer before launching into her next complaint.
“Jay only makes about one twenty now with this awful economy, and I actually had to go to work. And I’m only making thirty. How can anyone expect us to survive on $150 thousand a year? And the child support from Lucien, well it doesn’t even cover my mortgage. A lousy $4800 a month! What do you think of that?”

Julia, who survived on about one fifth of that, eked out from part-time jobs at the library and the bookstore, supplemented with freelance proofreading, barely had time to say “hm” before Greta had taken a breath and launched into her next protest.

“Would you believe, that dreadful man is actually trying to get his support payments reduced? Just because his income’s been cut in half too. I can’t afford that, I tell you. Aren’t I right?”

“Uh huh.” said Julia.

“And do you know Jay actually said we should sell the house in New Ithaca if we can’t afford it, and move to New Windsor, of all places,” her voice increasing in both volume and pitch on the last syllable of Windsor. Well, I can tell you, I told him that I am not prepared to do that! Imagine me in New Windsor!”

Julia cringed at the thought. She lived in New Windsor, in a small apartment tucked away behind some trees as all the apartment buildings in New Windsor were, so those who were better heeled and lived in houses wouldn’t have to acknowledge their existence. Julia liked her apartment in particular and New Windsor in general and did not think that Greta’s presence would improve the neighborhood.

“Lucien thinks he’s sooo generous, just because he pays for the girls’ piano lessons, and dance classes, and soccer team, and summer camp. But do you know he makes me pay for it all first and give him all my receipts? What do you think of that?”

“Uh….”

“And now he’s threatening to stop paying for Sheila’s tutor! Says it’s a luxury that’s got to go! But it’s no luxury, it’s a necessity! Aren’t I right?” Julia had ceased to even try to respond.

“My lawyer had the temerity to ask me what we did with all our money back when Jay was making two fifty. Claims the judge may want to know that. Can you believe it? Well, of course we spent it. And why not? Vacations, clothes, decorating the house cost money. I had to have some outlet for my creative abilities, so I spent a lot on the house. Now I may lose it.” Here Greta emitted something between a sniff and a sob.

Julia realized it was past one thirty and extricated herself saying she had to open up the bookshop at two promptly. Greta gave her a slightly condescending, lopsided smile, as if to say “I don’t believe in being prompt.”

“I really do have to run, but I sympathize, I really do,” said Julia backing out the door. “You be sure and call me if you need to talk more,” she added, thinking to herself, thank God for caller ID.

Julia made it back to New Windsor and Dastardly Deeds with two minutes to spare and was sitting behind the register when her coworker Megan unlocked the front door at two o’clock.

At a quarter to three her cell phone rang.