“Ignore the mess.”
Olivia picks up discarded backpacks and jackets when we walk in the door of her blue cape. She hangs them up on pegs next to the door and calls out, “I’m home.”
Two blond dynamos race down the stairs and collide with her, giving her hugs before dashing back in the direction they came.
A petite woman with short blonde hair streaked with gray rises from a couch in the living area on the right and tucks a paperback book into a tote sized purse.
“Hi Mom. How were they today?”
“They were fine.” She waves a hand and then smiles at me while slipping the shoulder straps of her purse over her shoulder. “Hello.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Franny this is my mother, Laura.”
Laura shakes my hand and pats the top. “I’ve been in your bakery a few times. You make so many tempting treats I have to stop myself from stopping in too often.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ve got to get dinner ready for your father so I will say hello and goodbye.”
“Timmy. Tommy. Come say goodbye to your grandmother.”
The boys rush down the stairs once again and wrap their arms around Laura’s waist, almost knocking her over.
“Bye Grandma,” they chorus.
She kisses them each on top of their heads.
“Now also say hello to our guest, Miss Dawson. You remember she owns the bakery I work for?”
“Hi Miss Dawson.”
“Hi boys.”
“Can we go back upstairs now?”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Yes, but only for a few more minutes then it’s homework time.”
Laura leaves and the boys race back upstairs.
“Why don’t we head to the kitchen?”
I follow her to the left, an open area split into the kitchen and dining room.
“Have a seat. I’ll grab the ingredients for dinner.”
“Can I help?”
“No, sit. You’ve been working all day and besides I’ve already made the shish kebabs. All I have left to prepare is a salad.”
I sit down and put the small bag of cookies I brought for the boys on top of the oval oak table along with my purse.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the boys in case it’s a rule or something, but they can call me Franny.” My mother has chastised me over breaking so many proper etiquettes over the years. The dictates jumble in my brain. I don’t understand the reasoning behind half of them.
Olivia smiles as she pulls things from the fridge. “I try to teach them manners, but if you’re comfortable, they can call you Franny.”
A lawnmower buzzes from outside and Olivia frowns. “That would be my new neighbor. I swear he mows his lawn almost every day. Who does that?”
“No idea. I’ve never mowed a lawn in my life.”
“Never?”
I shake my head and she laughs. “Feel free to learn by mowing mine anytime.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get the urge.” It’s something I will have to tackle if I find a place of my own with a lawn. The task shouldn’t be too difficult to accomplish. You turn it on and push it back and forth across the lawn.
Of course, there are sharp blades involved to cut the grass. Visions of bloody feet and missing toes and fingers pop into my head.
I could hire someone to mow the lawn.
“He’s single and lives alone. Not what you’d call sociable either. I did the neighborly thing when he moved in and went over to introduce myself, even brought him cookies, and he sort of grunted at me and looked at me like I was an alien or something.”
“He’s not going to win any conversation awards?” Someone worse than me at talking to people. He might be rude instead of anxious.
“Definitely not.”
“When did he move in?”
“A month ago.”
She puts down the knife she is cutting the tomatoes with and glances upstairs and then over to me. “I did a search online for him and checked the sex offender list.”
“Wow, you don’t trust this guy, do you? I never heard of such a list. Did you find anything?”
“Wait until you’re a parent, you’ll take paranoia to a whole new level. The weird thing is I found nothing, not on the list or by searching his name. No social media accounts, nothing. Do you know how weird that is?”
“Not really.” I shift in the chair. What would come up if I typed in my name? I’m not on any social media outlets. I have one for the bakery and a website, but nothing personal.
“Try it some time. There’s always something, but not with this guy.”
“Maybe he’s just a private person?”
“There’s private and then there’s private for a reason, if you know what I mean. Like, witness protection, criminal, a serial killer.”
I chuckle, but Olivia’s not smiling. She is serious.
“I know I probably sound a little nuts, but these are the things I worry about now that I’ve got kids.”
“Understandable, I can only imagine the things you have to worry about as a parent. Speaking as a person who is shy and not all that great at dealing with people, do you think he might have a similar problem?”
Olivia pushes the salad bowl to the side, leans against the counter with her hip and folds her arms. “Crap, now I feel like a bitch. What if he has a mental disability and here I’ve been thinking the worst?”
“No, I mean I have no idea, I’ve never met the guy. Don’t feel bad for looking out for your kids.”
“I should bring him more cookies and try again. Or maybe he doesn’t like cookies. Brownies, I’ll bring him brownies.”
“Wait a minute, slow down, I’m only saying there could be another explanation. That doesn’t mean you should rush over there, at least not alone. What if he is a criminal or something? I don’t want to be responsible for you ending up chopped into little pieces.”
Olivia stares at me and then we both burst out laughing.
“It’s contagious. I’ve got you worrying now too. Little pieces?”
“Well you did say serial killer.”
“True.”
“Seriously, next time you get the urge to visit your neighbor call me. We’ll go together.”
“Good idea, then you can tell me if I’m crazy or just a bitch.”
“You’re not a bitch.”
She grabs plates from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. “We all can be a bitch from time to time.”
“Very true, some more than others.” A few might just be born that way.
I might have fantasized occasionally about having the audacity to say whatever I want. Like telling Vanessa what an evil ogre she is.
Of course, I never act on it.
Which could very well be why she continues to torment me. Aren’t you supposed to confront bullies to get them to back down?
Food for thought.
Olivia tilts her head up to the ceiling. “Boys, homework time!”
Their feet stomp down the stairs.
Olivia walks towards me. “I’m going to turn on the grill. Be right back.” I crane my neck to watch her disappear down a short hallway separating the kitchen and living room.
The boys grab binders from their backpacks and sit at the table. One of them stares at the bag I placed on the table. “What’s in there?”
The other one glances up from digging through his pencil case. He looks at the bag and then at me. “Is that for us?”
“Maybe. Finish your homework and you’ll find out.”
Olivia walks back into the kitchen. “After dinner.”
“Right, what your mom said, after dinner. But I can still tell you what is in the bag after you do your homework.” I peek at Olivia to make sure and she nods.
“I bet it’s those cookies.”
“Not the ones with the raisins. I hate raisins.” The one on the left scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue.
“There are no raisins, I promise.”
He smiles. There’s a slight gap between his two front teeth.
I look at his brother on the right. “What about you? Do you hate raisins too?”
“I like them in bread or cookies.” There isn’t a gap between his teeth.
“Okay, so which one of you is Timmy and which one is Tommy?”
The boys look at each other and smile.
The one on the right shrugs. “No one ever gets it right except family.”
“They don’t help either pretending to be one another to confuse people.” Olivia walks over to the table and stands behind them. She puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “This one here is Tommy.” He’s the boy with no gap. “And this one is Timmy.”
“Okay, I’ll see if I can remember.”
“You won’t.” Tommy assures me.
Olivia rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair. “Do your homework.”
They both concentrate on their papers and what looks like fractions. Olivia walks over to the counter. I stand and follow.
“What can I do to help?”
“You can grab the plates and utensils there and bring them out to the deck.”
I pick up the items she points to and carry them into the living room where I spot the back door. Stacking the utensils onto the plates, I open the door and step onto the wooden deck which spans the length of the house.
There’s a patio table and chairs with a yellow striped umbrella so I walk over to set everything down. Olivia walks outside juggling a salad, shish kebabs, and a tray of sliced watermelon. She uses her hip and elbow to shut the door before I can reach her to help.
“Anything else I can bring out?”
“There are glasses and a pitcher of lemonade on the counter.”
She carries the shish kebabs over to the grill while I go back inside.
The boys smile at me when I walk into the kitchen.
They’ve switched seats.
Smiling I walk over to the table and look down at the boy on the right’s paper. “Timmy how is the homework going?”
“I’m Timmy.” The boy on the left pipes up. I know he’s Tommy because there’s no gap in his teeth.
“Nope, I’ve got the two of you figured out so no trying to trick me or there’ll be no cookies.”
Tommy scowls. “How’d you know? Did Mom see us and tell you?”
“No, and I’m not telling you my secret detection system.”
Timmy grins.
Tommy taps the pencil against his chin. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe.” I carry out the glasses and pitcher and tell Olivia about their switch.
She laughs. “How did you tell?”
“All I’m saying is once their baby teeth fall out, I might not be able to tell anymore.”
“You should be safe for a few years. They seem to be taking after me and I didn’t lose all of mine until I was almost a teenager.”
Dinner was delicious and Olivia was correct. The boys had sticky watermelon juice on their hands and face when they finished. She cleaned them up with a container of wet wipes she had brought outside and they ran off to play on the playscape after helping us carry in the dishes.
We sit on the deck watching them after we clean everything up. Olivia has a glass of wine and I a diet soda.
“Their energy is astonishing.”
Laughing, she leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “They’ll crash after story time and be out all night until the morning. Then they start again.”
“No wonder you’re so fit. You’re chasing after them all the time.”
“I don’t know about fit, but they keep me busy.”
Olivia sips her white wine. “Did you hear about that poor elderly woman they found?”
“No, what woman?”
“It was on the news. The story had me practically bawling. The mailman noticed her mailbox hadn’t been emptied in days so he knocked on the door. No one answered. He knew she was older and lived alone, so he went around back to try that door too. Again, no answer. He started peeking in windows until he spotted her in the bathroom, dead. He called the police. It turned out she had been there for over a week. She had no family or friends so nobody missed her absence and checked on her.”
“That is awful.” A chill brushes the back of my neck.
Dying alone with no one caring, it’s a horrible end to someone’s life. What kind of life had she led that brought her to such circumstances? She could’ve outlived any family or friends. Or, had she not had any?
“I know, right? I called my grandparents to check on them and put reminders in my phone to do it more often.”
My grandparents are all long gone.
“It’s sad, but at least stories like that one remind people to cherish their loved ones while they still can.”
Not all of us have loved ones.
Would anyone miss me if I were gone? People would notice the bakery wasn’t open, I suppose.
My parents would eventually question my whereabouts since I live with them. If I get my own place though, who will check?
“I’ve totally brought down the mood now, haven’t I?”
I rest my head on the back of the chair and stare up at the sky. “No, you’re right, it makes you think. I’ve been contemplating making changes in my life.”
“Like what?”
I shrug and roll my eyes. “I was in the doctor’s office reading a magazine article about vision boards and life maps. So I made one of my own. However, nothing seems to be working out the way I envisioned.”
“Life never does, does it? I could probably stand to make one for myself. I tend to describe my life as controlled chaos. What sort of things were on yours?”
“Well, my whole plan hinges on moving out of my parents’ place. So far I have had little luck finding anything in my budget.”
“What’s supposed to happen if you move out?”
My cheeks heat and I hope the increasing shadows of dusk are enough to cover the blush. “Get a life basically. A social life.”
She props her chin on the heel of her hand and stares at me. “I get that living with your parents can stifle a dating life somewhat, but there are work arounds. Inviting a guy back to your parents’ place could be a mind field of issues, but there’s always his place. Unless he lives with his parents too.”
Laughter bubbles up my throat and I choke on the swallow of soda.
She grins and takes a drink of her wine.
“That would definitely happen to me.”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a date. We should help each other out with making our life plans work.”
I tilt my head and stare at her. Here I thought Olivia was living a happy fulfilled life. I never would’ve guessed there was something missing for her too.
“I’m all for that. I could use any help I can get. In fact, you’ve already helped me by inviting me to dinner. I made a vow to get out more and stop hiding. Except for the bakery, I’ve been in danger of becoming a hermit.”
She raises her glass. “Well then, here’s to us expanding our horizons and maybe one of us will get laid too.”
I clink my glass against hers. “We can hope.”
Splats of water land on my hands and wet circles appear on my pants. I look up at the dark clouds overhead.
“It might be only a passing sprinkle.” Olivia scoots her chair under the umbrella and I follow suit.
The drops increase.
“Or not. Boys come inside.”
Olivia and I both stand, leaning as much of our bodies under the umbrella as we can. The boys laugh and run around the playscape trying to catch the rain drops in their mouths.
It rains in a steady stream.
“Boys!”
Either they don’t hear her or are having too much fun, but they continue to run around the playscape having a blast.
I can’t help the laugh bubbling up at the sight of them playing in the rain.
Olivia and I share a look and then dash out in the rain to dance around the playscape with her sons.