“I thought so!—I knew it!—hurrah!” vociferated Legrand. . . .
“Come! We must go back,” said the latter, “the game’s not up yet;” and he again led the way to the tulip-tree.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Gold-Bug”
Jackie
I came home from the VA hospital wrinkled, sweaty, and with a part-time job. They needed help, and I guess I secretly wanted to see what it would be like to work there if I ever came back to Charleston. So I told them I’d work Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday from seven A.M. to seven at night. It was just for a couple of weeks, and I knew I’d learn something. You always learned something in a new job—a new treatment or therapy or about new medicines. As much as I loved visiting with my mother, I was beginning to get the itch for some diversion. And I missed nursing. Once it’s in your blood it’s hard to resist the call to duty. And I was aching to be with veterans. If nothing else, we would understand each other.
I came into the house through the kitchen, and no one was there. So I went from room to room until I found Dad and Charlie on the porch. They were at the trestle table, leaning over a hurricane-tracking chart. There was a pile of colored highlighters and other things scattered around.
“Hey, Dad! What a nice surprise to find you here!” I gave him a kiss on his cheek.
“Well, I brought down some supplies in case this Arlene decides to pay us a visit. I wanted Charlie to know how to prepare for a hurricane. After all, he is the man of the house, right?”
“Yup,” Charlie said.
“We made a hurricane checklist. See?” He handed me a legal pad on which he had written a list of things to be sure you had on hand and a list of things to do to secure the house. I noted that it said the skateboard should be in the trunk of the car in case they had to evacuate. “And we’ve had a nice morning. I took Charlie down to Dunleavy’s for a chili dog, and I had a very tasty chicken pot pie. We had a good time, didn’t we?”
“Yup,” Charlie said. “And now Guster and I are tracking Hurricane Arlene on this map. We got it free at the fire department. About an hour ago it looked like she was headed straight for the Bahamas, but now it looks like she’s just holding steady.”
“Which might mean she’s gathering strength,” Dad said. “But if you ask me, I think she’s going to make the turn and head up to Cape Hatteras.”
“I hope so,” I said, looking at the flashlights, hand-crank radio, and bungee cords on the table. I picked up the radio and looked at it. “We used to have one of these when I was a kid.”
“Every house should have one,” Dad said. “If you lose all your power, you can still find out what’s going on.”
“Yeah, like an alien invasion! Where’s Mom?”
“She went inside to wash her legs about three hours ago,” Dad said and winked at Charlie, who covered his mouth to suppress the giggles.
Some people were obviously having a laugh at Mom’s expense. And Mom had locked herself in her bedroom.
“Okay, that makes no sense. What are you bad boys talking about?”
“Guster said that Glam had this lotion on her legs and Stella and Stanley went nuts, licking her to death!”
“Your poor mother was beside herself!” Dad said and smiled. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not nice to laugh, but you should’ve seen those crazy dogs just slurping away. Oh, me! It was some sight!”
“Hush, both of you! So what else are y’all doing?”
“Well, we were gonna measure the part of the island where I’m hiding the treasure. I challenged the Greenville kids to a treasure hunt. They’re making a map too. Just like in ‘The Gold-Bug’!”
“Oh, I don’t know how long I can stay, Charlie.”
“Stay for supper! Stay for supper! Please?”
“Well, I did bring your grandmother a mess of flounder and some corn and tomatoes. I could show you how to cook fish—if your grandmother will have me, that is.”
“I’ll go ask her,” I said and went inside.
I rapped my knuckles on her door.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“Just me,” I said. “May I come in?”
“Enter at your own risk! I’m trying to condense myself into a pair of Spanx. It’s not pretty.”
Sure enough, there stood my mother trying to yank up a one-piece torture chamber that promised to flatten her tummy and smooth out her thighs and hips—or to cut off her circulation if she didn’t get it in place soon.
“Need some help?” I asked.
“Maybe. I’m just about worn out from this fool thing!”
“Yeah, you pretty much have to have a degree in circus contortion to get in these silly things without breaking a sweat. Here. Look here. Get it where you want it on your thighs, and then I can pull it up inch by inch to under your bosom.”
“This is so ridiculous,” she said. “But it really does make a difference. At least I think it does.” She fussed around with the legs until they were straight. “Okay, now let’s move this sucker north!”
“Gotcha!” In a few minutes her body shaper was where it was supposed to be and I thought, Well, no doubt they should’ve sold her one that was at least one size larger. “Um, can I ask a delicate question?”
“Of course!”
“What if you have to use the bathroom?”
“It has a slit, you know, a slit down there.”
“Gross.”
“Or you can just hold it. I think I’ll just hold it if I have to go.”
“God, I would. Nasty!”
“I agree. I mean, the slit is one of those concepts that sounds sensible, but in reality? It doesn’t live up to its hype.”
“I’ve got the picture. Gross.” Who was I to call anything gross? How many times had I used a hand-dug latrine? I picked up the aqua linen shirt and matching trousers that were lying on her bed. “Wow, this is a gorgeous color. Did you buy this yesterday too?”
“Yes, Ms. Donaldson says I should wear one color from head to toe, except for black, which she thinks is too harsh for my complexion. Not sure I agree with that. Now I have to try and re-create my face.”
I watched as Mom laid out all the new makeup she had bought, and I could see that she was confused.
“I know I’m supposed to use all the serums and creams first and let them dry . . . now, where’s that chart?”
“So I took a job today, just part-time, to make a little money and to help out at the VA. I’ve got seven A.M. to seven P.M. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Only if it’s okay with you, of course.”
“Why, sweetheart! That’s just marvelous! It will give me a little more time with Charlie, and you can see what’s going on around town.”
“So you don’t mind, then? It might put a cramp in your social life.”
“Honey, there’s nowhere I’m going that I can’t take Charlie.”
“Well, we’ll see how it goes. You do know that Dad’s here?”
“I’m aware.”
“Did you know he’s out there explaining how to track hurricanes to Charlie with this huge chart, and then he’s got a crank radio—”
“He’s the crank,” Mom said.
“Well, you’re probably not going to like this, but I need to tell you that Charlie invited him to supper.”
“What?” She nearly dropped a whole bottle of facial toner on her rug. “You must be kidding.”
“Nope. And apparently Dad brought fish and corn and tomatoes and a basket of peaches. I guess he was hoping you’d let him stay too. What do you think? Yes?”
“I think no. No, wait. Hell no. How’s that?”
“This is going to look awfully bad to Charlie, Mom.” I could feel my temper rising. Now I was stuck in the middle.
“Oh, fine. Now you’re playing the kid card?”
“Sort of.”
It finally dawned on her that she was putting me into a difficult position. It also dawned on her that Dad would see her looking pretty fine in aqua linen.
“Well, maybe I’d be willing to cook, but I’m not sitting at the table with that man.”
“Why not?”
“Are you serious, why not? Eleven years of no husband on holidays, birthdays, and God save me, our wedding anniversary, and now he shows up with a sack of fish and I’m supposed to scoot out there like Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina and whip up a soufflé for Linus?”
“I think you mean Julia Ormond.”
“No, that’s a remake, dearie. Although, personally, I do prefer Harrison Ford to Humphrey Bogart. Bogart always looked like he needed a shower and a shave. Except there was one movie where he wore a white dinner jacket and looked very elegant.”
“Casablanca? Look, Mom, I understand how you feel, but it’s going to look very awkward if you don’t sit.”
“Believe me, if you don’t bring it up, they won’t even notice. I’m the Grand Facilitator to your father. I just always made things happen, but I’m not happening in them. He never needed a wife. He needed a housekeeper and cook.”
I stared at her and thought what an unsatisfying marriage this must have been for her. Was Dad that much of a caveman? I didn’t believe that for a minute. At least I could always depend on Jimmy to be sensitive.
“Then why in the world are you still married to him?”
“That’s my business. Now, you go tell the old bastard he can stay but he’d better behave. I’m doing this for Charlie. I need to finish getting dressed, and apparently it could take a while. And set up the bar, okay? Scary as this sounds, I might have to drink my way through this.”
This cocktail ritual of hers could become habitual and not good for her health. I’d talk to her about it another time. Tonight was not the night for her to go cold turkey.
“Don’t worry. The bar will be perfect. And thanks, Mom. This will mean a lot to Charlie, you know, it will show him what being an adult is all about.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She was getting irritated, because my mother seldom cursed unless she was.
“That people can have their differences of opinion, but family is family. And even if you and Daddy did get divorced, he’s still Charlie’s grandfather. I mean, looking back, don’t you think it was a little ridiculous that Daddy couldn’t come to Jimmy’s funeral because you were there?” I just threw it out there.
“Well, who would you rather have had with you?”
“That’s the whole point, Mom. Charlie and I weren’t supposed to have to choose.”
She looked as though I had slapped her. In the time-honored tradition of families who live in a state of denial, I ignored her, closed her door, and went back to the porch. Like the rest of us, she had to live with the consequences of her decisions. It gave me a certain sense of liberation to tell her she had hurt me. No more eggshells for me. Since Jimmy’s death I had seen many changes in myself—some of them good and some of them based on fears that would most likely never materialize. But one thing was for sure: I didn’t feel her separation from Dad was justified anymore. She was exaggerating Dad’s abuse and, as usual, playing the part of the martyr. Did I really believe that Dad had never told her “Happy Birthday” or “Merry Christmas” in all these years? No, I couldn’t buy that.
And I wanted her to be nice to him. He had certainly shown he had every intention of being nice to her. Maybe the fish, corn, tomatoes, and peaches were his way of wooing her? Come to think of it, all I had done was insinuate that there was a man flirting with her, and here he came like the Magi bearing gifts. And I’m sure in Dad’s mind they were gifts. They ain’t got no Saks Fifth Avenue up the road in Murrells Inlet.
“You’re on for supper, Dad.”
“Really? Why, that’s wonderful!”
Dad’s surprise was all over his face. He had not expected his presence at the table to receive my mother’s papal blessing.
“Great!” said Charlie. “Let’s go measure!”
“Well, what do you say we do the width today and the length another time? After all, you want to cover a pretty large area.”
“I can do the length tomorrow! Let’s go!” Charlie was already on his feet, pulling Dad up to stand. “Come on, Guster!”
“Easy there, partner!” Dad said. “If you ever have another baby, could you have one with less energy? For my sake?”
I was so stunned. More children? I sort of lost my balance. But I pulled myself together and hoped that my surprise didn’t show on my face and Dad’s remark had not registered with Charlie.
“Y’all go have fun! Dinner at six?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”
I shooed them off the porch and started to set up the bar on the same table by picking up all their markers and so on and putting them back into Dad’s tote bag. Another baby? I had no intention of ever getting married again, but what if I did? And if I did, what if I did find myself in the family way? How would that make Charlie feel? If I started a new life with someone else, wouldn’t Charlie feel out of place? It was true that in theory I could still have more children, but wouldn’t that be betraying Jimmy or at least Jimmy’s memory? Well, whatever the future had in store for us in that department, it would have to accept Charlie as a full citizen of any new family. We had been through too much together to have anyone try to squeeze Charlie out of the equation by the tiniest millimeter. A new family? Holy hell, marriage and more children were a mind-boggling thing to even consider, and there I was doing just that. Insane.
I dug around in Mom’s linen closet for a tablecloth for the bar, something that seemed festive. I put my hand on a colorful table runner that looked like a Mexican serape. That would work. On the floor of the closet were a box of paper lanterns, the kind you string up for a party, and a pair of glass hurricanes that needed a serious spritz of glass cleaner. I looked at it all and thought that even though it wouldn’t be dark until well after eight, wouldn’t they set a romantic tone when they were lit? After all, Dad was here, and wasn’t that a reason for at least Charlie and me to celebrate? Mom could stew all she wanted. I was determined then that Dad would have a wonderful night. And maybe some soft lighting would soften my mother’s heart.
There were existing hooks around the border of the top of the porch, probably put there years ago for just this purpose. I hung the lights on them in minutes without a struggle. After I cleaned the table, I put the serape down the center. It looked so great that I wondered why she didn’t use it all the time. Well, the answer to that was pretty clear: it had been a long time since she had thought there was much happening in her life worthy of party decorations. But did she have unrealistic expectations of Dad? Was that why they were still apart? At that moment, I thought she did. On either end of the table, I placed the clean hurricanes over two big candle columns, wondering if anyone would catch the connection with the weather. That was probably too much to ask.
I hauled all the liquor bottles out to the table and set them up in perfect rows on the left with mixers and garnishes and glasses on the right with an ice bucket and a wine bucket. I went to dig around the refrigerator and found the cheese ball. Perfect. A centerpiece! It looked great on Mom’s smallish round platter that had a design of red branch coral painted all over it. I took an unopened package of crackers and laid them next to the platter. Because the air on the front beach was basically always wet, open crackers at four were soggy crackers by six. Even I remembered that. And in a moment of uncharacteristic artistry, I arranged parsley sprigs all around the cheese ball, giving the platter that certain je ne sais quoi. Je ne sais quoi, indeed. Who was I kidding? However, it should come as no surprise to anyone that setting up a bar in this family was second nature to us all. I stepped back, squinted my eyes, and gave it an appraisal. To the squinted eye, it looked like a photo shoot from some food magazine. It was more than good enough.
By six o’clock, Dad and Charlie had returned and the three of us were on the porch enjoying a cool drink. Dad had brought in a small cooler from his truck with six cold beers neatly resting inside. I had obviously overstocked the bar, but so what? I’d become so used to carrying all those bottles and the accoutrements back and forth from the liquor cabinet to the porch that I was using the laundry basket for transport instead of making multiple trips.
For a change, I was wearing a cute blouse and a short skirt, hoping it would improve Mom’s disposition to see me pay some attention to my appearance. I even had on lipstick. And for the sake of Stanley and Stella’s sanity and mine, I did not use my mother’s moisturizer on my legs.
Charlie was guzzling a cherry Diet Coke that Dad made for him. They were rocking in their rockers, back and forth, debating what would go into the buried treasure Charlie intended to put together for the Greenville Three. Three candy bars that wouldn’t melt? Three comic books? Maybe something old-fashioned like a jump rope? Did anyone jump rope anymore? Dad wanted to know. What about yo-yos? Charlie said that yo-yos don’t work that easily, and Dad said he’d show him how to get it going. No problem. That he used to be a champion at yo-yo tricks. Really? Charlie said and ran to get his. Dad promptly showed him how to do a trick he called “rock the cradle,” and “walk the dog.” Charlie was so excited he could hardly breathe, but alas, even with Dad’s careful instructions, Charlie could not make it happen.
I loved being the bug on the wall for them, listening to Dad playing the grandfather and to Charlie just naturally being a kid with his Guster, the giggles, the questions, the innocence, their boundless joy that was so apparent—it was one of those transcendent moments I would never be able to re-create or describe with any degree of accuracy. But my heart was so full and satisfied. I was so grateful to have Charlie for my son. I was so happy that Charlie could bring such happiness to my father and my father to him. It was powerful stuff.
Mom finally joined us, stepping out into the evening air, a vision in aqua trailed by a swirling cloud of jasmine. Dad just stopped talking and stared at her.
“Cat got your tongue, Buster?” she asked, with the tiniest of self-satisfied smirks crossing her face.
“No, I just, uh—” Dad trailed off.
“You think she looks good now? You should’ve seen her last night, Guster! The old guys at the restaurant were sending her drinks every five minutes! You look great again, Glam!”
Well, out of the mouths of babes, just as they say. My attention had been directed at shaking up a batch of Manhattans, and I did not realize what Charlie had revealed until it was too late to hush him.
“Is that true, Annie?” Dad said. “You? Taking free drinks from men?”
“What of it?” She shrugged her shoulders to let Dad know she didn’t care what he thought. “Discretion is the better part of valor, Charlie,” Mom said, regurgitating one of the better-worn maxims of the Britt clan.
“What does that mean?” Charlie asked, looking to me for an explanation.
I leaned in to whisper to him. “It means that when it comes to the business of relationships between people, it’s best to turn on the filter between the brain and the tongue before you start talking.” Charlie knew he had made an error in judgment. But I wasn’t going to let him drown or even wobble on something so slight. “It’s true, Dad. The Codgers Committee gave Mom a thumbs-up. Big time. That color is amazing on you, Mom. Does anyone want a Manhattan?”
I hoped I had ironed out the wrinkles all around.
“Well, now, I believe I would love a Manhattan,” Mom said, sounding like a true belle. “That sounds absolutely lovely.”
“I think I’ll just have another beer,” Dad said to no one in particular with a trace of annoyance. He reached in his cooler. Clearly, he didn’t like the idea of competition.
“How come we never have this at home?” Charlie asked.
“What?”
“Cherry Cokes and party lights?”
“It doesn’t work as well unless you have salty air and a cheese ball,” I said. I popped open the crackers and heaped a moderate amount of Mom’s concoction on one, handing it to Charlie. “Taste this!”
Charlie popped the cracker into his mouth and chewed it up, his eyes growing large. Finally, he said, “Wow. That’s awesome!” Then he helped himself to another one. And another.
“Don’t ruin your appetite, baby,” I said and watched as Dad walked to the other end of the porch.
I could hear Steve’s car pulling up. Dad called out to him, “Hey, there, Steve! Come join us for a drink!”
Well, you didn’t have to invite Steve Plofker twice. He came bounding up our steps. To be fair, he had to get his dogs anyway. And they, hearing his voice, jumped up from their sleeping spots like two hairy Lazaruses and began yelping Hello! Hello! Hello!
Yes, I understood a certain amount of doggy-speak.
“Good evening, everyone! Boy, today was a muggy one, wasn’t it?”
“Aren’t you in your office all day? I mean, isn’t it air-conditioned?” I asked, being a little bitch for no reason other than I liked making him squirm.
“Yeah, like a meat locker,” he said without missing a beat. “But when it gets this hot and humid, the air-conditioning just can’t do the job. But thanks for your concern for my comfort.”
“Right,” I said, feeling my neck break into a sweat. “Would you like a Manhattan?”
“Why not?” he said, adding, “I haven’t had one of those in years! Thanks!”
“Steve?” Dad said. “You much of a cook?”
“Well, I can burn a steak with the best of them,” he said, giving my legs a stealth evaluation while simultaneously scratching his dogs’ ears and throwing his head back so they could lick his neck. “Can I help you with something?”
But I saw him looking and knew exactly what he was thinking. If he thought a woman like me would ever wrap my leg around his waist like that little slut had last night, he was cracked in the head. Besides, I wasn’t interested. In addition, dog spit on your neck couldn’t be sanitary.
“I was thinking that since the ladies look so nice and I promised Charlie I’d teach him to fry fish that if you’d stay for dinner, maybe you’d help me cook. Annie’s wearing a new outfit and all. You know . . .”
Steve spun around and looked at Mom, doing a double-take, which did immeasurable good for her ego.
“Wow! Annie! You look like one million dollars after taxes! You cut your hair!”
“I liked it better longer. Long hair is sexier,” Dad said. “So what do you say? Want to fry some fish with me?”
Mom and I rolled our eyes.
“Sure! I’d love to!” he said, and I handed him a drink. “Cheers!”
“The hush puppy batter is in the refrigerator,” Mom said and then whispered to me when they had gone inside, “They’re going to destroy my kitchen. And since when does he think about sexy in connection with me?”
“Who knows, but he sure was looking at you with that look! If they wreck the kitchen, we’ll make them clean it up,” I said.
“Oh, please. I think we should move dinner to the dining room. The kitchen is going to reek of oil and fish and onions.”
“I wouldn’t move dinner to make Steve Plofker happy,” I said. “And if we go to the dining room, you’ll have to sit with us, especially now that they’re cooking.”
“You’re right. Let’s go make us a centerpiece of herbs and flowers for the table. There’s always something in the yard. Besides, I don’t want my short hair to smell like fish.”
“Oh, hell, Mom, let’s go help them, or we won’t get dinner until Tuesday.”
Mom magically arranged handfuls of lavender and rosemary in two conch shells, which, I was later informed by Charlie, were actually whelks. Placed back to back and with votive candles around them, they looked really pretty. It was amazing what you could do with found objects. And, I had to admit, Mom was resourceful.
We slipped in between the men, moving the china from the kitchen table to the dining room. I slipped out to the porch, mixed up another batch of Manhattans, refilled our glasses, and took another beer to Dad. No one objected. I made Charlie a cherry Coke, and he was thrilled.
Charlie was having the time of his life with Mom’s deep fryer, dropping in big dollops of the cornmeal batter, cooking them until they were golden brown, and draining them on paper towels. For every three that hit the paper, one went into his mouth. Dad and Steve had two big skillets of fish frying, and discussions about how to season them peppered the air, no pun intended. Mom sliced the beautiful tomatoes onto a base of lettuce on a platter and dropped the corn into boiling water. We melted a stick of butter in a Pyrex casserole dish and placed it in the microwave, an old trick, so that when the corn was done we could roll it around and butter it evenly. Dinner was almost ready. And it was a real Lowcountry feast.
As soon as we sat down and had our glasses in midair to toast, Miss Deb came in the door and straight to us. Her face was awash with distress. Mom practically jettisoned from her seat to her side.
“Get another chair,” she said to me, but Dad got up to do it instead.
“Whatever is the matter, Deb?” Mom asked. “Is Vernon all right?”
“I saw the lights on, but y’all are having your supper. I’ll call you later.”
“Sit!” Dad said. “Sit and have some supper with us!”
He held a chair for her as Steve moved his place setting down the table. Miss Deb sat, but she looked at Mom with her I’m not so sure face.
Mom said, “Listen, you have to eat, and we could feed the whole island with what we have here tonight. Now tell us. How’s Vernon? Buster, get Deb a glass of wine. Jackie, fix her a plate. Thanks, y’all.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s just me. They admitted him for observation. I mean, there’s no real reason to panic, but I just have this terrible sinking feeling in my heart that, well, I don’t know.”
“He’s at East Cooper Hospital?” Steve said. “I can look in on him tomorrow morning. Who’s his doc?”
I put a full plate in front of her, and she looked at it as if she hadn’t had a decent meal in ages. But then, if it’s true that we eat with our eyes first, the food was irresistible. Steve poured her a glass of wine.
“Fran Wanat. I mean, Wanat’s the best cardiologist we’ve got in the whole state, and he says not to worry, so maybe I should just relax and have a nice evening with y’all! Right?”
“I know Sharon, his wife. She’s darling! Drink up, sister!” Mom said. “Vern will be fine.”
The doorbell rang, and I could hear children’s voices calling out for Charlie. “Is Charlie home? Char-lieeeee?”
“Can I go to the door?” Charlie asked me.
“Of course!”
He jumped up and ran to the door, returning with the father of the kids from Greenville.
The father, John the Elder, the infamous bankruptcy lawyer, said, “I’m taking the kids up to the Palmetto Grande to see a movie and then out for ice cream. My sister’s two kids are coming also. We’ve got two big SUVs loaded with varmints. Everyone wanted to know if we could invite Charlie. He can stay over with us. The kids have built a pillow fort all over the living room, and I guess we’re looking at a night of controlled mayhem.”
“Please?” Charlie said. “I’m done with dinner.”
His plate was clean. Not a crumb left. Who could tell him no to an invitation like that? I nodded my consent and hooked my thumb toward the door, indicating permission for him to skedaddle.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Come around here, boy,” Dad said, extracting a stack of cash from his pants pocket and peeling off a twenty-dollar bill. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Oh, Guster, thanks, but I don’t need it. I have a job, you know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of severely crumpled fives. There must have been six of them. Maybe eight.
Dad smiled and said, “Take the money and say, ‘Thanks, Guster.’ Okay, Mr. Big Shot?”
“Thanks! Love you!” Charlie snatched the twenty, hugged Dad’s neck, blew me a kiss and was gone.
“Send me a text when you get back to the island!” I said.
He gave a thumbs-up and ran ahead to meet up with the kids.
“I’ll take good care of him,” John the Elder said.
“Oh, I know that. Thanks,” I said and followed him to the back door.
“Pray for us,” he said. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
“Oh, you’ll have fun. Take pictures of the fort!”
Charlie piled into the car, smiling and happy, soon lost in a sea of adolescent goodwill and smiles. I felt pretty good about just letting Charlie go off with them like that. It never would’ve happened in Brooklyn. Oh, invitations came in Brooklyn, but there was more advance planning and less spontaneity. Here, doors were open, porch lights were on, and it was just easier all around to be inclusive and congenial. And I wasn’t worried for an instant that someone was going to carry Charlie off into the night. I was getting over my paranoia. Temporarily.
I went back inside, and Miss Deb was talking about Vernon. “They just want to run some tests. So they kept him. I mean, they’ve always sent him home before. So it makes me a little nervous.”
“I don’t blame you!” I said. “But I feel very sure that if he was in real danger he’d be in an ICU.”
“Well, actually, he is in the ICU. They want to monitor him overnight. But his EKG was negative, and one of the ER doctors said he thought it might be reflux. Vernon had had quite a bit of salsa and chips while he was watching television.”
“There you go!” Dad said. “That’s probably it.”
“Well, then, you don’t have to worry at all!” Mom said. “Isn’t that smart of them? I’ll tell you, modern medicine! They can perform miracles. Isn’t that right, Steve?”
“I see miracles all the time,” he said, and he shot me a look that said doesn’t sound good.
It didn’t sound good to me either, but Steve and I didn’t know much about cardiology beyond what they teach you in basic emergency care. Maybe he had done a cardiac rotation, but that would’ve been years ago. And then I saw something that reminded me of active duty in a triage setting in the hills of Afghanistan. Miss Deb began to talk in a higher-pitched tone of voice, totally laser-focused on another topic rather than Vernon, who should have been her only priority.
“I can’t believe I sat here and ate all this food and didn’t even see that you have transformed yourself into a beauty queen! Annie Britt! What have you done to yourself? You look fabulous!”
“Doesn’t she?” I said and smiled.
“I think she looks great too!” Steve said.
“Humph,” Dad said. “Annie can go get all the haircuts in the world, but at the end of the day she’s still fifty-eight years old.”
Silence.
“That wasn’t nice,” Mom said and got up. “A lady never reveals her age. It’s not even necessarily in her obituary. I’ll be in my room.”
More silence.
“What’d I say that was so terrible?”
“Oh, Dad,” I said. This was what Mom was talking about when she said Dad could be sarcastic and insensitive. “It was going so well.”
“I don’t get it,” Dad said.
Deb looked around and then said, “I’ll go talk to her.” She left the table.
Steve looked from my face to Dad’s and back to mine. “Wow! Nine o’clock already? I’d better get the dogs home and settled in for the night. I’ve got to be at the hospital by seven tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
We stood at the screen door on the porch for a minute. The dogs were antsy to get outside, so Steve opened the door and they bounded across our yard to his and sat at his door, waiting. They had acquired a new habit.
Suddenly the paper lanterns seemed out of place, and it made me a little sad. Things had not gone as I had hoped.
“My old man sure knows how to clear a room, doesn’t he?” I said, hoping he wouldn’t think ill of us.
“He just wasn’t thinking,” Steve said. “But I’m pretty sure he hurt your mom’s feelings.”
“Yeah. You’re definitely right about that. I’ve been gone for a long time, and I guess I never realized that he really did things like that. Mom always said he was insulting, but I never believed her.”
“Hmmm. What’s up with them? Are they divorced or separated or what?”
“Well, they’ve never done anything legal. I think, you know, the time apart has been mostly a good thing for both of them. But it looks to me like Mom fixed herself up for him and then he shot her down even though—”
“He still loves her,” Steve said.
“Exactly. And I think she still loves him. They’re grown-ups. They’ll have to work it out. Anyway, please let us know if you find out anything about Vernon.”
“I will. What a beautiful night! Looks like that Arlene finally blew out to sea.”
“Yeah, well, I got another storm brewing in the house.”
“Yeah, you do. Thanks for dinner. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Thanks for cooking,” I said. “Good night.”
Steve Plofker was growing on me.
I went back inside. Dad was washing the dishes with Miss Deb. She handed her dishcloth to me and I began to dry and she went looking for her purse. She said good night to us, but Dad insisted on walking her to her door. One minute he was a prince, the ideal grandfather, and then without warning he opened his mouth and out popped the Devil. I just didn’t know what to say to him.
Dad decided to stay for the night on the pretense that he wanted to make things right with Mom in the morning. I agreed, pointing out that in addition, it was dark on Highway 17 and it was getting late. I directed him to Charlie’s room, since we had a vacancy for the night. Soon the house was quiet. Order had been restored, Dad was snoring evenly, Mom did not resurface, and Charlie was safe at his friends’ house. My last thought before I drifted off to sleep was that if Mom and Dad ever lost each other before they resolved their issues, they’d sure have an awful lot of regrets.