by Lisa Freed
The next morning, with the sun shining weakly through the clouds, I arrived bright and early at John’s place, a bucket of cleaning supplies in hand. I had wanted to ask my cleaning lady, Helen, to come it but it wasn’t her day to do my house and I knew she had other clients. Not to mention a life.
Letting myself into John’s apartment, my first thought was it wasn’t that bad. The living room just needed some tidying up and probably a vacuum run. I hoped he had one. Then I entered his small, cramped bathroom and I wanted to back right out again.
An avalanche of dirty clothes spilled out of the hamper between the door and the sink, the smell of which was making my nose twitch. The mirror, hazy with splattered smears, reflected a section of the shower through the opened beige shower curtain and squinting at it I realized two things, the curtain wasn’t originally beige and I didn’t want to see anymore.
Exiting, I pulled the door firmly shut behind me and advanced into the kitchen where I was greeted with a mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, several pizza boxes on the counter, and a lone empty two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper on the floor. Frowning down at it before I picked it up, a thought popped into my head. Where were the two cats John was fostering?
I made kissy noises and called out, “Here kitty-kitty,” while wandering around the small apartment. Peeking under the lumpy couch, I only spied a stray sock and a few dust bunnies. But in his bedroom, I found them both stretched out on John’s bed, their black coats shiny with good health and warm from the slash of sunlight coming in through the window. If John didn’t keep them, they would cry leaving here.
Then a smile stretched across my face. John was a sucker for sweet animals and an overall good guy so I was certain these two were home. I headed back out to my SUV and fetched the cooler full of food. I had picked up a fruit salad, two tubs of tofu, some odd gluten and everything-free chips, and a bag of mixed nuts. I planned to hit a subway on my way back home.
After stowing the necessary things into John’s well-stocked fridge, I commence cleaning. I took a fortifying breath before I tackled the bathroom first to get it out of the way. His clothes I dumped into a trash bag and dragged it onto the tiny patio. I was afraid to stick it in my Tahoe for fear of the smell escaping the plastic and permeating my vehicle. I’d seen Seinfeld, I knew about toxic smells and cars.
The rest of the place was a breeze by comparison and less than two hours after I arrived, the place looked pretty good. I cracked open one of the bottles of soda I had brought. I kept meaning to give them up but I needed the caffeine and the sugar way too much. I could start jogging if it meant I could still enjoy a soda a day. Or two, if I were being honest.
I changed clothes in John’s bedroom, leaving mine on the floor, just in case one of my parents peeked in and then freshened up my makeup in his bathroom. I left a few of my cosmetics on the sink as stage dressing as well. Walking back to the kitchen to start getting the food set up, I surveyed the living room. Cleaner but definitely a guy’s place. It was devoid of the softer touches a woman liked.
Glancing at the display on the black microwave I saw it was only eleven. I really had no clue when they would show up. Lunch could mean anywhere from eleven until two. Still, I didn’t have time to go back home but a Dollar General was only a few minutes away.
That decided, I got in my SUV and took off on a quick shopping trip.
Returning thirty minutes later and starting to arrange everything, I admitted I went a little crazy. Hopefully, John could use half this stuff later on. Scented soaps went into the bathroom, along with a few lotions, accent pillows with sequins got tossed onto the couch and I scattered a few candles and knickknacks around the room.
I pulled my phone out of my bag to see if I had missed my parents calling to cancel, like they would be that considerate, ha. But no luck. I did see a text from John wishing me good luck and that rat Mateo had called leaving a voice message.
Despite my better judgment, I hit listen. “Teresa, I’m here in Greece missing you. See you soon.”
It took every ounce of my pretty limited willpower to stop myself from hitting redial and blasting him. But nope, I have enough to deal with today, was my mantra.
Such as, where were my loser parents. Watch, all this stress and effort and they wouldn’t even show. I sat down on the couch with my soda and watched TV. By one, I had helped myself to some of the lunchmeat and cheese in John’s fridge, made myself a huge sandwich and polished it off while watching The Addams Family movie.
I must have nodded off when the shrill doorbell peeling began. Either it was stuck or someone’s finger was glued to it. Brushing off some stray bread crumbs from my shirt and pants as I rose, I went to the door and used the peephole. My parents, Fredrick and Catherine Ashford, stood there.
Megan had old pictures of our parents and there was no denying my sister was a dead ringer for our mother, tall, willowy and blonde. Me, well maybe if you squint a little, I took after our dad around the eyes. But with his dirty blond hair and beard that was as far as the similarities went.
Both looked thin and vaguely unkept. Maybe it was the oddly mismatched clothes with deep wrinkles.
The ringing still hadn’t abated and was beginning to get on my nerves. Oh, yeah, had to let them in. With a deep fortifying sigh, I plastered on a smile and opened the door.
“Teresa!” My mother cried, her finger finally leaving the doorbell. She seized me, dragging me in for a brief hug that drained me of energy and warmth as her frigid fingers pinched at my skin through the thick fabric of my shirt.
My father stepped forward, his hard hand patting me roughly on the shoulder as he pushed past us into the apartment. He stepped on my foot in the process and either didn’t notice or care. I watched as he sat down on the couch and with a grimace, hauled one of the new pillows from behind his back. He tossed it to the floor.
After she released me, Catherine stomped into the house, heavy on her feet for such a slim lady. I closed the door behind us and stood watching from the doorway as she walked around poking a finger here and picking things up at random. Then her hand reached for the door of the bedroom and I rushed forward. “That’s not the bathroom,” I called out.
“Oh, I don’t need the bathroom,” she commented going into John’s room and opening up his closet. “What are these?” she asked. “They look like men’s clothes.”
Without waiting for my reply, she moved to the wall to squint at the framed pictures artlessly arranged there. She took one down and I walked behind her to stare down at it.
It was of John and me at prom. We had gone as strictly friends just to say we had attended. I smiled at the two of us posed awkwardly with our cheeks pressed against each other’s.
“Oh, you went to prom,” she commented without emotion before setting the picture down on the dresser top and moving on to examine the one next to the empty place where it had hung. It was of John and firehouse buddies in front of the ladder truck.
“Teresa, are you seeing this man?” she asked jabbing a finger at John’s image.
“Mom, that’s John, my friend from school.” I was about to add, Remember? but that would be pointless as number one, I doubted she even knew anything about me from that time and number two, she had already begun walking out of the room.
A lungful of air rushed out of my nose and it took effort but I fixed the crumbling smile back on my face. Taking a fast look around the room, I noticed both cats had disappeared, no doubt scared by my mother’s high nasally voice. Walking into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind me I called out, “Hey, is anyone ready for lunch?”
“Yes!” my father yelled from the couch. My mother had joined him, picking at a loose thread on one of the newly purchased pillows.
“Great, I’ll have things ready in a moment.” Bypassing the couch, I walked around the perimeter of the room. In the kitchen, I dumped things into bowls and placed them on the table. Neither parent offered to help, remaining on the couch, talking loudly to one ano
ther.
When things were ready, I called out, “Lunch is ready” and sat down. Why bother with manners when they didn’t have any?
My father jogged over, grabbed a plate and began to load it up. He was at the table shoveling it in before my mother had even made it over. She sniffed at the array of fruits, speared a few strawberries then took a handful of the chips and a huge heaping spoonful of the Asian garlic tofu.
“So?” I said, opening up one of the bottles of sparkling flavored water I had brought.
“So?” Fredrick echoed around a mouthful. “Nice place you have here. Megan said you do something with cats. Must pay okay.”
“Yes, I enjoy my work,” I answered honestly.
“This fruit is rather tart,” Mom sniffed, scowling at one the foster cats.
They were both pretty identical so I didn’t know if it was Max or Mr. Mango making his way into the room. He must have escaped while the door was open. I didn’t think they were strictly kept in the bedroom, not with the amount of black fur I had vacuumed up earlier from the living room, so it wasn’t a big deal.
It took effort, but I didn’t let the smile slip from my face. Somehow the years had dulled my memory of just how rude and lacking in social graces my parents were. I opened my mouth, intending to lie through my teeth and say how nice it was of them to visit, but what came out instead was, “Why are you here?”
My dad, not missing a beat, continued to shovel food in.
Catherine fluttered her scant eyelashes and beamed. “We wanted to share the wonderful news with you!”
Guess nobody was dying, I thought even as shame filled me at those nasty thoughts.
“Your father and I have decided to become foster parents.” She continued to smile at me, clearly expecting a jubilatory reaction. After a few moments of strained silence, her thin lips quivered and she abandoned the grin, blue eyes gleaming as she stared me down.
Of all the things my parents could have been planning, never would this have crossed my mind. They had been lousy parents, why would they want to repeat that?
“Lots of money in it,” my father offered, suppressing a belch with the back of his hand.
Catherine frowned, poking at him with her fork. “Yes, it will be financially beneficial,” she admitted before trying to defend those tactless words. “And why shouldn’t it be? Taking in unwanted children, it’s a noble pursuit” Her narrow shoulders rolled back as she lifted her pointy chin.
My mind raced. “You have to take parenting classes.”
“What? That’s nonsense, we raised two girls and look how great you and Megan turned out.” She looked down her long, thin nose at me, giving me a smile that looked more like a grimace.
Yes, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Tinmen and Aunt Prudy, I thought. I wanted to argue but it was pointless. “How nice. Thanks for coming all this way to share the news in person.”
“We had some things to settle here,” my dad admitted, finally pushing his empty plate away.
“Really?” That was news to me.
“Oh yes, we still had baby things from you and your sister. Fewer things for us to buy for the new kids.”
Thinking to all the things Megan had for Amber, I knew things had drastically changed in baby gear since we had been children, the safety standards were much higher, for sure.
I kept my mouth fully clamped closed. No need, I decided. The chances of my parents getting approved as foster parents were nonexistent.
My mother changed the subject quickly, throwing me off guard. “Besides work, are you seeing anyone? And whose clothes were those in the closet?”
“John’s,” I answered automatically.
“The neighbor boy?” my dad asked, perking up for the first time. “Wasn’t he some stoner kid?”
Like they had room to talk!
“No, John didn’t do drugs,” I snapped.
“Maybe he should have,” my father laughed, nudging his wife’s slim arm with an elbow. “Might have given him some backbone.”
I tasted the coppery richness of blood and realized I was biting the insides of my cheeks hard enough to pierce the sensitive tissue.
“Well, we should be going. Wonderful to see you, kiddo. You can come visit and meet your new brothers and sisters.” Dad stood and clapped me on the back.
“Oh yes, we’re open to lots of kids. We always grieved that we only had the two of you. The more the merrier! And naturally, we’ll treat them like their ours.”
What a load of…I stomped on that thought. “Yes, of course, maybe I’ll come out for Christmas,” I lied.
“Oh, we don’t celebrate that anymore,” Catherine waved a hand as if shooing away a pesky fly.
“Well, we’ll work something out.” I stood and began walking with my father into the living room and toward the door. My nerves were stretched thin but the fact that they were almost gone kept me holding it together.
As Catherine picked up her huge, multi-colored hobo, she paused. “I almost forgot!” she exclaimed digging into the bag. “We brought you a present.”
My defenses lowered, Had they remembered my upcoming birthday?
A few small glass vials were produced, loosely wrapped in stained tissue paper that Catherine attempted to rewrap around the tiny bottles.
“Our own brand,” Fredrick announced, pride evident in his low voice. He reached into a pocket of his shabby gray corduroy pants and produced several cream-colored business cards.
“What are they?” I asked accepting the vials from my mother’s cool hand.
“Essential oils, all the rage!” Dad enthused.
“It’s natural and cures all,” Catherine added.
“Really?” I looked down at the murky contents of the bottles.
The cards were shoved toward me and I almost dropped my “gift”.
“We mixed them ourselves. Got a website now. Pass those cards out to your friends.”
I palmed the cards in my left hand, the vials in my right and accepted another strong-gripped hug from my mother and a final pat from my father as they walked out.
It was with deep relief that I watched them drive off. The greasy, smelly oils I tossed straight into the trashcan along with the business cards. I wouldn’t trust my parents with food or my health and I sure wasn’t going to get my friends involved with my parents’ shady dealings.
As I went into the kitchen to clean up the leftovers, I noticed one of the cats up on the table licking at the tofu. “You’re welcome to it, buddy.”
The fruit went back into the fridge, but the rest went into the trash. Sniffing, I realized that my hands smelled. The oils had leaked through their bottles. Lifting my hands closer, I breathed deeply then doubled over as coughs wracked my body. Vile stuff!
Making it to the sink, I doused my hands in dish detergent and scrubbed vigorously. It took several minutes but finally, my hands passed the sniff test and I detected nothing but lemon scent from the soap.
Grabbing the rubber gloves from the cleaning bucket I had brought and stowed under the kitchen sink, I bagged the trash. I dumped it in the green can outside the front door up against the privacy fence that separated the units from each other. For good measure, I peeled off the bright yellow gloves and tossed them too.
Back inside, I dropped to the couch and just stared at the ceiling. I lost track of time but eventually, I grabbed my phone and hit my sister’s number. When she answered, I launched into her.
“Did you know they were planning to become foster parents?!” My voice rose and I tried to control my volume.
Megan snorted. “Never happen.”
“And you couldn’t have warned me?” I snapped.
“What? And let you off easy? I think not. So whose place did you borrow for the visit?”
“How did you…”
She cut me off. “I know you wouldn’t want them knowing you had money. They would have hit you up to invest in their crappy oil business.” She laughed. Her mood seemed much improved from the last time
we had chatted.
“You knew about that too?” I sputtered feeling a tad betrayed that she hadn’t shared.
“Oh, yes, it was a great visit,” Megan said, her voice dripping with venom.
My lips pursed up as an idea took shape. “Did they hit you up for baby things?”
“Yes, indeed.”
We sighed together, then Megan said, “If we’re lucky, it will be another seven years before they visit again.”
“Can only hope,” I said, feeling much better. “Hey, I need to finish up at John’s and get back home. Call you soon.”
“Sure, you will,” Megan said with another laugh before she disconnected.
I sat there smiling down at my phone for a moment. My parents might suck but at least my sister didn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Knowing John wouldn’t appreciate the throw pillows with brightly colored sequins, I gathered them up to take with me. Picking one up, a cascade of sequins rained onto the carpet and my shoes. I stared down in confusion then felt a spark of annoyance. My mother! I had seen her playing with one.
Setting it down on the coffee table, I stalked back into the kitchen to retrieve a garbage bag from under the sink and stuffed the damaged pillow inside. Then got John’s small red vacuum out of the hallway closet. When I turned back to head into the living room, I saw both Max and Mr. Mango were inspecting the sequins on the floor.
“No!” I cried out, letting the vacuum drop to the floor with a bang as I ran to scare the cats away. Either my loud shout or my thundering footsteps did it because they scattered in two different directions. When I went back and picked up the vacuum, a small piece of red plastic remained on the floor. Ugh. I just had to hope it still worked.
Thankfully it did, and I got all the orange, black, and purple sequins up off the carpet. As an afterthought, I went over my sneakers too. Putting his working, but cracked, vacuum away I fished a pad of sticky notes out of my purse and wrote, I owe you a new vacuum, on the fluorescent orange sheet and stuck it to the front of the machine.
