Good to Go by Nina Welch

Beth dies the night she packs her honeymoon suitcase. She folds a red-fringed shawl and places it carefully on top of her clothes. She zips up the suitcase and wheels it to the front door.
“I’m good to go.”
Her husband, Pete, walks into the room.
“What do you mean you’re good to go? Where are we going?”
“Oh, Pete.”

*****

Pete and Beth wed right out of college. Beth pursues a Masters in Social Work. Pete gets a job as environmental engineer. With their suitcase on the back of their MG convertible and hair blowing, they cruise along the Big Sur coastline above crashing waves. Pete is tall and lanky with blonde shaggy hair. Beth is a petite blonde with a firecracker personality. Beth is driving.
“I can’t believe how this car hugs the curves.”
“You’re going too fast.”
“I’d like to hug your curves, Pete.”
“I don’t have curves. Have you seen me? Let’s just get to the hotel in one piece.”
“I want to go dancing when we get to Frisco.”
“I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t allowed to dance growing up.”
“You can’t be married to me, Pete, without being a dancing fool.”
“Dancing doesn’t suit me, you know that.”
“Come-on, it’ll be fun. I can’t wait to go to Finocchios.”
“Is that a night club?”
“Yeah, they do drag shows.”
“Drag shows? Men dressed like women?”
“Yes, isn’t that intriguing?”
“What do they do?”
“They entertain. Dancing, singing, in beautiful gowns, wigs and make-up.”
“That sounds weird.”
“They’re gorgeous. Wait till you see them.”
“My mom wouldn’t approve. She’s a Baptist.”

*****

Pete stands forlorn in the middle of the living room with boxes around him.
“These boxes are to go to the Goodwill when I’m gone.”
“Where are you going?”
“I told you.”She closes a box and starts to tape it shut but Pete grabs the box and looks inside.
“All your shoes are in here.”
“I know, I put them in here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need them.”
“Of course, you need them. You’re going to need your shoes, Beth.”
He reaches inside the box and pulls out a pair of red high heels.
“Why are you giving your shoes away? These shoes are sexy. I wish they were my size.”
Beth, under her breath, “I bet you do.”

*****

Beth and Pete sway on the dance floor at a night club in Chinatown. He’s so tall and she’s so short that her head reaches below his breastbone.
“Isn’t this fun, Pete? You are a good dancer.”
“As long as it’s slow.”
“Let’s take a break. I need a sidecar.”
“Is that a drink?”
“Yes, a cognac cocktail.”
“Hard liquor? I thought you just liked beer or wine.”
“It’s our honeymoon, Pete, let’s live a little.”
“I’m not used to drinking. My mom frowns on it.”

*****

“What’s your suitcase doing by the front door?”
“We talked about this, Pete, remember?”
“Talked about what?”
“My journey?”
Pete retrieves the suitcase, wheels it next to the living room sofa. He opens it and brings out a red-fringed shawl and puts it around his shoulders.
“I love this shawl.”
“I didn’t understand why you wanted that shawl for your mother. You didn’t even give it to her.”
“It reminds me of San Francisco.”
“It’s just a tacky shawl.”
“But it has meaning to me.”
“I don’t see why.”
“I loved San Francisco. It had good vibes.”
“I know, dear.”

*****

The newlyweds ride the F Market Streetcar. The car stops in front of the San Francisco Souvenir Gift Shop.
“Let’s go into this cute store, Beth.”
“It’s a crap shop.”
He gravitates towards several colorful scarves and shawls hanging in a corner of the shop. He pulls a large shawl down with a San Francisco scene of cable cars and the Golden Gate Bridge. I LEFT MY HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO is emblazoned in the middle of the shawl. He holds it up to his cheek and red fringe hangs down.
“Perfect, my mother would love it.”
“It’s ugly.”
“But it’s from the Tony Bennett song. I would love to live here.”
“In the souvenir shop?”

*****

“Why do you have to do this?” Pete rummages through the clothes in the open suitcase, the shawl still wrapped around him, but tighter.
“I know it’s hard, dear, that’s why I’m doing it for you.”
“I don’t want you to do it for me.”
“But I want to.” She goes back to the boxes.
Beth and Pete’s daughter, Lizzie, opens the front door. She is tall and lanky like her dad with blonde curly hair like her mom. She is referred to, in this day and age, as being from the “sandwich generation.” She’s a daughter and a mom. She has a two-year-old and is pregnant again. Seeing Beth with the boxes, she swiftly heads towards her and ignores Pete. He has a strange look on his face and shuffles out the back door.
“Mom, what are you doing? Don’t lift that box.”
“I wasn’t going to.” She shoves it with her foot. “See, I’m kicking it along.”
 “Mom, you’re getting weaker.”
“I’m fine, Lizzie.”
“Look at you. Your arms are like noodles.”
“I like my svelte figure. I was getting a bit plump.”
“Your wig is crooked.”
“It feels like a hat. I never liked hats.”
She takes off the grey, mophead wig and tosses it on the couch.
“Where did your father go? I worry about him.”
“Mom, you don’t have to care for Dad anymore.”
“He needs me.”

*****

In the 80s, the Coopers have successful but separate lives together. Beth has a good job with Planned Parenthood and Pete just finished his book on climate change. A lot of his business trips are in San Francisco.
“It’s the 80’s, Beth, Roe v Wade happened. They don’t need you anymore. I need you.”
“We’ve come a long way for women but we have a long way to go.”
“You’re never home.”
“You’ve got your book, and you spend more time in San Francisco.”
“It’s finished. My editor found a publisher.”
“You have a publisher?”
“Yes, Dennis Knight Publishing in San Francisco.”
“Why didn’t you get one closer by? You wanted me to quit, now you’re taking off.”
“You know how I love Frisco plus Dennis got me a deal.”

*****

Pete wanders in from outside wearing a floppy hat.
“Beth, I need to do some gardening.”
“You do that, Dad.”
“Beth, where’s my little shovel?”
“In your hand, Pete, be careful.”
“Thought I’d do a little gardening.”
“Give me the spade, dear.”
He hands it to Beth and looks at Lizzie blankly. Lizzie addresses her dad coldly.
“Where’s Dennis, Dad?”
“Who?”
“Dennis.”
“Who’s Dennis?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?”
Beth takes Lizzie aside. “Don’t be so mean to your father. He and Dennis broke up.”
“I don’t know why you’re so accepting of his lifestyle.”
“You should be too, Elizabeth, he can’t help who he loves.”
“He should love you, Mom.”
“He does, honey, and he loves you too. He doesn’t know who Dennis is.”
“He doesn’t even know who I am.”
“He’s confused.”
“Like you were confused after he cheated on you with a man after 15 years of marriage.”
“Be nice, Lizzie, he’s your father.”
“Give me a break. I can’t believe you let him move back in.”
“It’s temporary. He needs me.”
                                                                                ******

“I can’t believe my dissertation is almost done.” Eight months pregnant, Beth types away on her Smith Corona on a tiny desk in their living room.
“Yeah, after you defend your paper, maybe we can get back to normal.”
“It’s been a long haul but worth it.”
“Now you can stay home with our baby.”
Beth looks out the living room window at the newly planted oak tree. It was hard to grasp that this wisp of a sapling is a symbol of strength and security.

*****

The tall, sturdy oak tree outside the Cooper’s picture window stands true through all things.
“Now, I want you to listen carefully, Pete.”
“I’m not going to listen.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
“You’re going to have to face reality, dear.”
“I don’t want to.”
Beth reaches inside the suitcase next to the couch. She pulls out a scruffy teddy bear. Pete grabs the bear out of her hands.
“Stuffy.”
“Your mother never threw it away.”
“It meant a lot to me.”
“I know.”
“I pulled the eye off and almost ate it.”
“Your mom said you loved that bear.”
“Why are you packing him away?”
“I thought I’d give it to Lizzie for her new baby.”
“Why would a baby want a worn-out old bear?”
“It’s sentimental and Lizzie can clean it up and sew on a new eye.”
“Who’s Lizzie?”
“Did you take your meds today?”
                                                        ******
Against Pete’s wishes, Beth got a job as a union organizer and brought little Lizzie to rallies and showed her the meaning of boycotts. The Coopers wouldn’t purchase iceberg lettuce or grapes in support of the United Farmworkers.
“Beth, the principal called again.”
“What did our little activist do now?”
“She wouldn’t cross the picket line for the teacher’s strike.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Don’t you think she’s too young to be involved like this?”
“Never.”

*****

Yesterday, the souvenir shawl was new and bright and tacky. Time. Fleeting like foam on the water or smoke on the wind.
“Do you see what’s happening, love?” Beth and Pete snuggle under the faded shawl on the living room sofa.
“No.”
She reaches in a side pocket of the suitcase and brings out a black velvet drawstring bag and opens it.
“I want you to do something for me.”
“There’s nothing in here.”
“This bag is for my pearls.”
“You never take them off.”
“I will.”
“These are the pearls I gave you at our wedding.”
“I know, they’re a keepsake.”
“A keepsake for you to keep.”
Beth takes off her pearls and puts them gently in the bag Pete is holding.
“I want you to give these to Lizzie when the time comes.”
Pete clutches the bag in his lap. “Okay.”
“That’s my guy.”
“My darling, when are you going?”
“Oh Pete, I’ve already gone.”
The neighbors’ German Shepherd crosses the street to the other side. Something in the Cooper’s living room is quieter than sleep.

Nina Welch

Image: – Pixabay.com – a pair of gold rings, one laying on top of the other.