The Enigma of Mavis
I had wronged her. Pure and simple. This much I knew. This much was fact.
I'd always had a tight circle of friends to draw on, and inevitably quite a few of us found ourselves floating out to Southern California at some point. If you were looking for opportunity, comfortable faux-bohemian suburbs, and less weather in the winter, you ended up here hosting get-togethers in back yards illuminated by Christmas lights. My husband and I had been here since our late 20's. We'd gone from following underground Americana bands in hipster dive bars to raising children and embodying the suburban life of the 2020's.
Mavis was part of our social circle. She was a friend of a friend of friend of a friend who'd just become part of our night-time garden party vibe in the summers. She wasn't married like most of us, or separated or divorced. If she was a lesbian, she was deeply closeted in a way that made zero sense in this day and age, especially in our upwardly mobile liberal enclave. She was just Mavis, a successful interior decorating business owner who was always there. I didn't know her well. I'd been in hundreds of conversations with her at parties, dinners, and girls-night-outs, but I could probably count our one-on-one encounters on one hand...that is if I could have recalled any to begin with.
Mavis always looked the same. Most of us were staring down middle age now, but I swear it's like she'd been born that way. She'd always had that same greying blonde hair, short with bangs that covered her ears, but barely touched her neck. The hair consistently framed a pair of vintage cat-eye spectacles. Her ensembles ranged from casual slacks and blouse to fancy dinner dress. But everything she wore had a slightly retro feel to her. It was as if she were a mid-century creation walking among us, but doing so subtly, never flaunting it. The only name that would even come close to fitting a creature like this would be Mavis. It was as if she'd curated a persona to go with the name, or picked the name after she'd come into her own.
Mavis's voice matched her look and personality. She was never loud, never demonstrative. She had an even, calm manner of speech that recalled a librarian, but with a more authoritative spine backing it up. Maybe a quiet headmistress. There was a New England flatness to it. When she talked, most quieted down to hear what she had to say. Even though she was in our general age group, there was something about her that seemed older, more experienced. It was as if we were all little sisters to her. There was also a haughtiness to her, just the barest hint of arrogance. She was always unfailingly polite. She knew her manners well. But knowing her for several years made a difference. I'd started to see what I thought were cracks in the façade, little signs of when she was disgusted with someone, as if they were beneath her. I'd wondered if it was just my imagination at first. But then Mavis' name came up on a text thread...
If I could take anything back, it would be the things I said on that text thread. It was a collection of the friends I socialized with the most: most of them mothers, or married. Some of them dated back to college, or even before, some of them I'd met in school pickup lines or at kid's birthday parties. We were all like minds that gravitated together. The thread had probably been a daily part of my life on the phone for years. We joked around, shared tips, and well, we gossiped...a lot. So of course, someone was bound to bring up Mavis' name. She was one of us, yet not one of us. I mean, come on, she was Mavis.
The enigma of Mavis soon became a big topic among us. No one could remember how she'd entered our orbit. The topic soon became bigger, as we all tried to recall our first encounters with her. Most of us couldn't. It was like she had always been there. Of course, we got a bit catty as we gossiped, but then I went too far. I didn't even realize I had at first. I innocently thought out loud that she was probably "a buttoned-up, closeted lesbian who trolled the garden parties for hook-ups, yet never went through with them, because she wouldn't even admit her sexuality to herself."
Innocent, right? Surely plausible at least. Worthy of further discussion, right?
I couldn't have been more wrong. After some "!!" tap backs, the thread just sort of died. So did my social life. I didn't even notice it at first, but gradually, as the spring wore on, I started hearing about parties I'd just missed. Parties I'd known nothing about. Parties I pointedly had not been invited to. The text thread dried up, and texts from friends dried up as well. I woke up one morning next to my sleeping husband, and suddenly realized that I'd been ostracized, but in that sneaky SoCal way, where you don't even realize it until it's far past being a done deal. It's kind of like being a lobster in nice warm water.
I had no idea what had happened. I hadn't put it together yet with that text. So I started beating the bushes. But I had to be strategic about it. I couldn't just come out and ask anyone. That would just seal the dirt over my grave. No, I had to be smart about this. I started shopping a lot. I knew my friend's habits, where they shopped, when they did it. And I started bumping into them at places like Gelsons, Trader Joes, Neiman's...Most of them did the thing of seeming really happy to see me, but of course they were on a schedule. But hey, we should get together soon. Finally, a few friends dropped a hint or two, and I gradually put it together. Now, what to do...
I started by drafting a heartfelt letter of apology, and texting it to Mavis personally.
Crickets.
Ok, so then I texted an apology to every common friend of ours I could think of on a text-thread.
More crickets.
Well, that was it. My social life was over. I would just have to shop at Trader Joes in the early morning or late at night until I could convince my husband to move somewhere else. And that's how it stayed. Until...
I was literally shopping at Trader Joes early in the morning when my phone actually chirped. A text! I looked at it cautiously. This was bound to be just spam, right? Wrong.
It was Mavis!
She invited me to join her for coffee just down the street. I dropped my shopping basket right there in the frozen food isle and practically skipped on down to see her. There she was, sitting upright at a table with a fresh café latte she hadn't touched yet. I swear I could feel her penetrating stare as I made her wait while I ordered my own latte. Once I sat down and thanked her profusely for asking me to meet her, she took her first sip of her latte, and got right to the point. My text comments had gotten back to her, and really hurt her feelings. She thought we were friends. It didn't even occur to me at the time that nobody else's comments seemed to matter. It should have.
Of course we were friends. Of course I couldn't be sorrier. Really, I wanted my life back more than anything. But I also was genuinely sorry. This whole mess was my fault. So I gave her every variation of sorry I could come up with.
Whelp, I'd now metaphorically groveled on my knees to apologize over lattes. Should be a case of problem solved, right?
Of course not. If that were the case, this story would end right here. And you wouldn't want that, would you?
After I'd finished my one table-apology tour, Mavis just sat there. She took a long sip of her latte that was surely exaggerated for my benefit. She seemed to be in deep contemplation, and then she let me have it.
"Donna", she said, "I really want to accept your apology. I really do. I can tell it's heart-felt. But when someone wrongs another to the extent that you have wronged me...it takes more than an apology to put things back on track."
I'm sure Mavis heard my audible gulp.
"Please, Mavis. Whatever you say. I'm ready to do anything. What would you suggest?"
Another theatrical, contemplative sip of that latte, and then she said...
"I think you need to be punished."
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Sorry, it's not like that's the dramatic end of a chapter or anything. It just mirrors the way I sort of tapped out when Mavis said that thing about being punished. Don't worry, I was still at that table watching her take petite sips from her latte while mine grew cold. But believe me, it took a long moment before I could rewire my brain enough to accept this apparently new reality. She didn't really say that, did she?
"Um...did you say punish?"
"I believe you heard me clearly, Donna."
Ok. I still had no idea what she could possibly mean by that.
"I guess I'm...just having trouble understanding what that could entail. Would this be like doing your dishes for a week, or cleaning your bathroom, or...?"
No answer. Mavis just stared at me, leaving me to work it out on my own. I suddenly had a flash of another context for that word, from that book everyone was reading at the beach a few years ago (everyone but me, of course). It was too weird to be a possibility of course. But still, I was at such a loss, so...
"Is this...is this like one of those 50 Shades things?" I asked, in the quietest voice I could possibly conjure.
Mavis was completely motionless of course, but something flashed behind those 50's Librarian spectacles. She set down her latte and rose from her chair abruptly.
"Look, if you don't want to put this right..."
"No, no, I do. I really do", I said, all flustered now. "Whatever it is, whatever you want, I'll do it. I swear. Please, give me a chance."
This stilled Mavis from her abrupt exit. She fixed me in a steely gaze (I know, but if you ever met Mavis, you'd understand. These are the kind of descriptions that she inspires. Believe me, she has a steely gaze). Anyway, she fixed me in a steely gaze, and held me in for a long moment, as if searching inside my eyes for something. Then she said...
"Fine. I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow. Be out in front of your home ready. You need to be presentable, so dress up a little. Showered, hair, makeup, and no pants. Skirt or dress only."
"Oh...okay, Mavis. Noon tomorrow. I'll see you then."
As I'm sure you've already figured out, I had quite the sleepless night. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and there wasn't anyone I could talk to about it. I sure couldn't discuss this with my husband. I was still persona non grata to my local social circle, and even the friends I could reach out to weren't of any use. What would I have possibly asked them about? I just had no clue. Even the Internet and Google were useless. Sure I could enter a search for the word punishment, and probably go from Webster's definitions to porn sites, but what good would that do me? Mavis had given me a single word to work with: punish. I simply had no context beyond that to work with.
After that largely sleepless night, I slept right through as my husband left for work in the morning. It was nearly 11:00am when I finally woke up. 11:00am? I got out of bed in a flash and got to it. I showered and primped, and shaved my legs and, uh, other places too. After applying makeup carefully and agonizing over a dress, I just made it out the door as Mavis turned the corner. I chose a pale garden-green summer dress that I felt would fit with Mavis' style. It was low-cut, which really showed off my cleavage, for whatever that would be worth today.
I saw Mavis turning the corner as I stepped out the door and rushed to meet her at the curb. She handed me a fresh latte as she pulled away. I took a few sips of the latte and set it down. I was so wired and pumped by the strangeness of not knowing what I was on my way to, that I really didn't need any caffeine for once in my life. As we drove, Mavis asked me if I was ready. I said that I guessed I was, but really how could I know? There wasn't really any conversation beyond that. I mean, what would we have talked about?
