Bakelite: Part VIII

“Dan, what on earth did she post?” asked Carol. Dan paused. Carol could hear the rasp of her own breathing which made her self-conscious, even with someone as familiar as Dan. The more she waited for her ex-husband to talk, the more she felt her chest tightening again. “Della is not what she seems,” said Dan. Yes, well that’s obvious, Carol thought, still waiting. Dan started again, “Listen, Care. I need you to promise me something. Will you promise not to look at Della’s blog until I get there?” Carol was stunned. “Come on, Dan. Is it that bad? I’m not a Faberge egg. I can handle this. Why are you being so overprotective? It’s late…. You can’t come over here now.” Dan was silent again. “Care, please, trust on me this. I think we need to look at this thing together.”

Bakelite: Part VII

Della’s husband’s lack of life insurance also proved to be a bummer. According to Della, after three months of grieving she realized she needed to find some way to make a living. An Ottawa cousin who owned a grocery store in Little Italy offered her a job in the deli so she could be close to loving family and get her financial footing. This was what brought Della to Ottawa, and it was in this charming Italian grocery store that Carol and Della met.

Carol remembered the moment like it was yesterday. She was buying bocconcini for a special birthday dinner for Dan. Della towered over her from behind a glass deli counter, and the two of them giggled like high school girls when Della said, “mmmmm….yum….balls.” This led to a conversation in which Della told Carol the sad story about her husband’s passing, about being new in town, about not having any friends, about the unfriendliness of Ottawans. That day Carol gave Della her phone number and invited her for dinner.

Dan didn't appreciate having an unexpected guest over for his birthday. And he really didn't like it when Della requested to speak with Carol privately after dinner. Carol led her into the den where she kept her Bakelite collection. "What is it?" Carol asked. "Are you ok?" Della was suddenly in tears and sobbing. Carol put a hand on Della's shoulder, pushing her dark curly hair to the back. She didn't know this woman well enough to put her arms around her. "Can I help?" Carol asked. Della spoke between sobs, "It's my cousin....He doesn't want me anymore...He says I need to find something else...It's my fault...I fucked it up...I fucked him by mistake." Della said all of this with tears streaming down her dimpled cheeks. "You slept with your cousin? Your first cousin?" Carol asked, trying not to show shock or surprise on her face. "Yes, but it's not what you think...Now he thinks I'm some kind of homewrecker... and he's spooked...he's afraid I'm going to tell his wife...which I wouldn't....Oh Carol, you don't know how hard it is to lose a husband." Carol didn't know what to say that would be of comfort at this moment. In her uneasiness, she reached for a plastic butterscotch bangle from her rack of bracelets, and, pressed it into Della's hand: "I want you to have this, Della. You have been through a lot." Della put the bangle on her wrist and twirled it around in her fingers. "I love it!" she said, her eyes streaked with mascara. "It's so smooth...and plastic!"

"It's a genuine Bakelite", Carol said softly. "If you rub it with your thumb and sniff, it should smell like formaldehyde and burnt human hair. That's how you know it's real." Della followed Carol's instructions and nodded. "Burnt human hair!" she said, and the two women laughed together. Della's face became serious again, "You are a real sweetheart, Carol. Somehow I knew you would understand me.... But now I really need a kleenex because I'm full of snot." The women laughed together again. It was like they were old friends.

Bakelite: Part VI

Carol and Della started their blogs around the same time. Carol remembered the day, the moment, they decided to blog. They were sitting on the brown leather couch in her living room, drinking coffee after dinner and talking together energetically about their ideas. Carol had already been reading plenty of knitting blogs and figured she was ready to start one of her own. After all, she was designing her own baby blankets and sweaters now, and she loved the idea of sharing her patterns with others. "I can also tell my readership where to shop. I know where to find the cheapest and most gorgeous baby alpaca wool in all of Ontario!" said Carol, flushed with excitement. "And your Bakelite collection, don't forget about that, sweetie! You could sell those little suckers," added Della. Della viewed blogging as a way to get rich. "I want to be the next Dooce!” proclaimed Della. “Whatever it takes, Care-baby, I’m going to create a life that will be excellent to blog, so that people will want to read me every day… to see what happened.” Della was the dramatic friend. The fun friend. The outrageous friend. The friend Carol lived vicariously through at times. It seemed somehow that Della had always been in her life when, in fact, it hadn't been that long. Della had only moved to Ottawa from Calgary two years earlier. Her husband, her high school sweetheart, had died unexpectedly. “It was a bummer,” Della told Carol the first time they met.

Bakelite: Part V

(*If you haven't read the first parts of this story, start here).

Carol decided to approach the incident by restoring normalcy to her home. She prepared a pot roast for dinner. She and Roy ate silently on the same brown leather couch on which the incident took place, facing the flat screen TV and flipping between the Kentucky Derby and the Weather Channel. The family cat, Ginger, collapsed between them and fell into deep slumber. Neither knew or really cared anything about horses or horse-racing, but the Derby was something they had always watched together as a family when Dan lived there, so it seemed right. After dinner, Roy’s skinny, pasty-faced little computer nerd friend, Sterling, arrived, and they retreated to Roy’s room to play games. Little boys playing games, Carol thought. This thought reassured her. Carol stayed on the couch with her cat and her knitting and began to feel like she could breathe again.

Later that evening, Carol prepared a bath with lavender and eucalyptus oils to soothe her body and clear her lungs before bed. The water was still running and she was standing naked in her bathroom when the phone rang. She quickly wrapped herself in a pink terrycloth robe, turned off the water and opened the door. The ringing had stopped and she could hear Roy voice: “I know. I know….Don’t worry. Everything’s cool here….O.K…..I didn’t do anything…… Well, yeah, I have.…but everyone does…..what does that have to do with?…But it didn’t…..Relax, would you, Dad!” Upon sighting his mother’s worried face peeking out the bathroom door, he spoke louder. “Ok, then. Thanks, Dad. Here’s Mom.” Roy handed the cordless to his mother and headed back to his room.

“Hey Dan. What’s going on?” Carol said, shivering and wishing she were in the bath. Dan sighed loudly into the phone. “Just enquiring a bit about his porn consumption. A lot of kids are, you know, little porn freaks now, looking at all kinds of weird internet shit that you and I never saw…I just wonder if he saw Della as some kind of, you know, porn-scenario-in-the-making.” Carol answered with surprise, “I thought you thought it was more of a move on Della’s part…Isn’t she the one who initiated the thing? Anyway, being all aggressive with him isn’t really helpful, is it? Why don’t you talk to him about it in a normal, man-to-man talk kind of way?” Dan sighed again and was silent, which was not like him. “What is up with you, Dan? Why do I get the feeling you have your knickers in a knot about something?” Carol was always good at getting her ex-husband to open up. “Care. I need to talk to you about something else…It’s Della’s blog… You haven’t seen it, have you?” his voice sounded shaky now. Carol could feel herself getting out of breath again, but answered slowly and carefully, “No. I hardly read the thing at the best of times…even though she’s linked to my blog, of course. Tonight I’ve been just trying not to think about Della at all, ok?” Dan hesitated for a second, then said, “Ok. Ok. Listen, Della says some things on her blog that might upset you. Which is why I’m calling.”