Women Drinking Benedictine by Sharon Dilworth Read Free Book Online

ourselves.” She stood, then bent over and moved her hands up and down her feet. It was a remarkable physical feat for such a heavyset woman. A few members stood and tried to touch their toes. Amber stayed in her seat. As Rosemary had encouraged, she was not going to follow.
    Rosemary was in favor of strong declarative statements. They had punch but not much meaning. She used these key phrases in her own speech and tried to get the group to adopt them.
    â€œTurn the beat around,” she advised when a group member complained that she could not find time in her hectic life for a workout. “Accentuate the positive.”
    â€œGet a pet,” Rosemary suggested. “A dog is an exercise machine with hair and a warm tongue,” she claimed. “I used to come home after a stressful day at work and go straight for junk food and television. Now I come home and take my dog for a long walk. I’ve made new friends. I’ve gotten to know my neighborhood. I’ve turned the beat around and couldn’t be happier.”
    Amber had joined the group to meet educated women in similar socioeconomic situations, not to listen to the obvious pathologies of those in need of professional guidance. She got enough of that from the “Dr. Laura” radio show every afternoon. Amber did not know what her “unique stuff inside,” another of Rosemary’s phrases, was, and she did not understand how canoeing would help her find it. Still, she had paid her seventy-nine dollars and thought it best not to quit midstream.
    â€œIf you can organize your kitchen, you can organize your life.” Rosemary announced one night. A canceled pet-sitter had forced her to bring the new puppy to the meeting. He sat at her heels, slowly chewing the hem out of her skirt.
    Jane snorted. “Oh come on. Get real.”
    Sally giggled, though whether she was amused by Jane’s retort or by the puppy was not clear.
    Amber, who had been napping with her eyes open, woke to the sound of irritation and ridicule.
    â€œNo fighting,” Rosemary said and began touching her toes frantically.
    â€œAll I said was I wasn’t sure I followed the logic of that statement,” Jane said. “Surely you agree that someone can have a perfectly neat house and a cluttered life.”
    Rosemary stopped exercising and began to whimper. “Anger is so tiring. It just wears me down.” She grabbed the Kleenex box and buried her face.
    Jane stood. “I’m not angry. I simply asked a question. You’re not afraid of discussion, are you?”
    â€œI’m not having a good week,” Rosemary sobbed. “I used to come home after a stressful day at work, have a junk-food bonanza complete with reruns on “Nick at Nite.” Now I come home to find that my stupid dog has chewed my new ninety dollar black pumps into bite-sized pieces. The minute I walk in the door he starts barking, begging for a walk. Even when it’s zero degrees outside. I can’t cope. He’s making my life a miserable mess, and I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œWhy don’t you get rid of him?” Sally asked.
    â€œThis is ridiculous,” Jane judged, walking out of the room.
    The other Attr-ACTIVE women scurried to form a protective ring around their leader. “There, there, dear,” they comforted. “There. There.”
    The Squirrel Cage, which was less than a block from the JCC, served a Cheeseburger Platter that included french fries with a choice of gravy or homemade ranch dressing for $3.95. Amber, Jane, and Sally ordered full platters and a pitcher of draft beer, not caring that the hand-washed mugs tasted of dishwashing soap. There they decided a trip abroad would do more to enhance their lives than a two-hour meeting in a chlorine-smelling, windowless room of the local JCC.
    â€œDon’t go to the hardware store for milk,” Amber quoted their leader. Rosemary’s adages worked best