Mustard on Top

by Wanda Degolier

  Though not a mortal strike, her home, with the gaping hole in the roof, was deemed unsafe by the Chief.

  The firefighters secured a tarp over the hole in the roof and vacuumed the excess water while Chief Heller explained the house was uninhabitable until the roof, electrical, and whatever other code violations the city inspector found were repaired. She and Theo would be required to live elsewhere.

  He advised Helen to contact her insurance carrier then gave her a pile of brochures for various services: shelters, clothing, food, and contractors. Finally, she and Theo were escorted back inside to pack some belongings.

  The house, though familiar, felt foreign. Discolored, the living room stunk of burnt plastic and wood. Although the firefighter tried to dissuade her from going into the kitchen, Helen had insisted.

  Charred cabinet chunks protruded, and crippled appliances jutted out. The kitchen was a dark shell. The dank, heavy air made Helen sick to her stomach.

  After gathering clothes and toiletries, she met Theo at the front door. They came out as one firefighter was running tape around the periphery while another posted ‘Hazard’ signs.

  “Mom, did you remember your insulin?” Theo asked.

  She’d forgotten. Typical. Turning to the fireman who’d escorted her in, she said, “I need to get my medicine.”

  He led her back. After grabbing a handful of syringes, she went to the refrigerator. The handle, having melted in the fire, was shrunken and deformed. Angry with herself for making Theo worry, Helen yanked the door open.

  The lining stretched like a piece of gum before snapping. The firefighter shined his flashlight inside. Leftover lasagna flowed from a melted container, and a cracked ketchup bottle dripped. The milk carton had burst and white, red, and brown liquids pooled on the bottom shelf.

  Helen reached for her insulin and dropped it when the metal lid burned her fingers. “That’s hot!” She shook her hand.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Helen growled. She grabbed a dishtowel off the floor, wrapped her hand and snatched the bottle. The month’s supply was likely ruined, but who knew? Insulin had proven hearty in the past. She made a mental note to get it replaced, dreading the request since insurance probably wouldn’t cover it without a fight.

  This time when she exited, the firemen were waiting to install a lock on the front door. Only one fire truck remained along with a few scattered neighbors.

  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Chief Heller asked.

  “My car’s right there.” Helen pointed, noticing that Ben had left. “We’ll be fine.”

  With her suitcase on the ground, Helen stood next to Theo and watched the firefighters board their truck. When they drove away, Helen turned and faced the house.

  “Poor old house,” Helen said. Years of rain and summer heat had made the siding warp. To the left of the door, one of the gutters dipped below the roofline. Their house had always been at the bottom of her list of priorities. Between Theo’s tutoring classes, and running Hot Diggitys, the gourmet hot dog stand she owned, she never had enough time or money.

  Yet, it had been a solid home; and she and Theo were happy there.

  “You okay, Mom?” Theo asked.

  Helen gave him a smile. He had no idea the fire would be the first shock of the evening. No. “Yeah. You?”

  Theo puckered his lips the way he’d done since he was three years old and nodded. Helen pulled her tall son into an awkward hug holding him longer than she knew he was comfortable.

  She let go and took a step back. “I think you should use the money you put into my college fund to fix up the house,” Theo said. “You could get one of those stoves you’ve been drooling over.”

  Helen stiffened. She wanted him to get a college education. Because he’d struggled with schoolwork, she worried his battered ego was more the cause of his lackadaisical attitude than his lack of desire. Wanting to pay his own way seemed to be his latest excuse. Whatever the case, college would benefit him, but the more she pushed, the more he resisted.

  “We have insurance, honey.” At least she hoped it covered the fire.

  “So where’d you go? Why’d you leave food cooking?” Theo asked.

  Ben. She wasn’t ready to tell him. Opting for a half-truth, she stammered, “I went for a walk.” The lie came out stilted.

  “With food on the stove?”

  “I forgot about it, I’m getting old I guess.” She was relieved when Agatha Cashman, their neighbor, waved to them. Agatha, a sixty-something widow, reminded Helen of an updated, older, June Cleaver. Impeccable. Precise. Agatha’s dress gave her an hourglass figure, and her silver-blonde hair was wound into a tight bun.

  Neighbors for the past eight years, Agatha acted like Theo’s quasi-grandmother. Helen had comforted Agatha when her husband died, and again after Agatha had been forced into retirement. When Agatha had complained of boredom, Helen, on impulse, hired her as a part-time bookkeeper for Hot Diggitys. Ever since, Agatha tried to reform what she thought was Helen’s lax business practices.

  Agatha glanced at the suitcase next to Helen. “You two are staying with me.”

  Helen needed time to process what had happened. A shower, some clean clothes, a meal and a glass of wine would work wonders. Mostly, she wanted to be available for Theo. While staying with Agatha would be convenient, she hated being a nuisance.

  “That’s okay. We’ll get a room,” Helen said.

  “Don’t be silly. I could use the company.”

  In truth, Agatha had few visitors. Her abrupt manner and bottom-line attitude didn’t lend itself to socializing. “We couldn’t impose.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Agatha addressed Theo, “I’ve got a pot roast in the oven.”

  “I want pot roast.” Theo sounded cheered.

  “We’ve decided then,” Agatha announced.

  Helen glared at Theo, but he’d hoisted his bag on his shoulder and was already moving. Defeated, Helen offered, “I’ll pay you what we’d pay for a hotel.”

  “Oh piddle sticks. You will not. Besides, I need time to go over some ideas for Hot Diggitys with you anyway. I wouldn’t bring it up right now except that it’s good news.”

  Helen suppressed a groan. Good news or not, she didn’t want to talk about Hot Diggitys. She pinched the bridge of her nose then picked up her suitcase.

  The only two-story home on the block with a pristinely maintained flower garden, Agatha’s house was the jewel of the neighborhood. Helen didn’t like that it made her property look shoddy by comparison.

  “Shoes off,” Agatha reminded Theo on his way through the front door. “And go into the bathroom and take off those smelly clothes. I’ve got something you can fit into, so wait there.”

  Unlike his behavior at home, Theo obeyed. Helen went to the laundry room and was loading the clothes from her suitcase into the washer when Agatha entered the carrying Theo’s smoky duds.

  “I gave him some of Alfred’s old clothes. I’ll bet he loves that.” She laughed. “I’ll get you something too, so you don’t have to wear what you’ve got on.”

  A half hour later, the three sat at Agatha’s dining room table. Theo wore Alfred’s clothes while Helen sported a stretchy, gray, velveteen sweat suit. The roast beef with carrots and peas was comforting and tasty.

  They talked about the fire. Relieved no one had been hurt, Helen turned her mind to the repairs. The rebuild would be a serious inconvenience, but her burned out kitchen wasn’t a tragedy. When Theo offered to do the work for free, Helen abruptly ended the conversation.

  Clearly sensing her mood change, Theo held his hands up in surrender then retreated to one of the spare bedrooms. Helen sighed, since Theo’s graduation from high school, his future plans hung heavy between them and Helen didn’t want him committing to anything in the heat of the moment.

  Helen washed the dishes then, hoping to stave off Agatha’s latest advice about Hot Diggitys, picked up a copy of The Wall Street Journal, the only reading mater
ial Agatha seemed to own, and feigned interest. Between articles concerning the stock market and the economy, she thought about Ben. How and when would she tell Theo? Her son believed his dad was dead.

  Agatha settled in an armchair across from her. “So,” Agatha began.

  Helen lowered the paper halfway. “Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

  “You’ve thanked me enough. While you were talking to the Fire Chief, a gentleman approached me and insisted I give you this.” She held a business card toward Helen.

  “Oh?” Helen set the paper aside and took the card from Agatha. An egg-yolk yellow, it read: Blake, Esteban & Associates across the top. Beneath was simply Chicago, Illinois 35882 leaving Helen to wonder if Blake, Esteban & Associates had their own zip code. Cooper Manning, Trial Attorney was printed in the middle along with several phone numbers.

  She flipped it over. Scrawled on the back was: I’d like to help with the house and to talk. Please call me, Ben. Beneath the message was an additional number. The pot roast in Helen’s stomach threatened evacuation. “Did he say anything?” Helen asked.

  “Just to make sure you got it.” Agatha cocked an eyebrow.

  The headache between Helen’s eyes pounded. She needed to tell Theo before Ben showed up on Agatha’s doorstep, and Theo got the shock of his young life. “May I borrow your phone?” Helen asked.

  Agatha set her up in her office and closed the door. Her hands shaking, Helen dialed Ben’s number. He picked up on the first ring. “Ben. It’s Helen.”

  “Thank you for calling.” He sounded relieved.

  “Cooper Manning, huh?”

  “My name for the last nine years. How bad was the fire?”

  “Bad enough.”

  “I stayed until they put it out.”

  Helen didn’t know how to respond. A vision of Ben watching her house burn left a foul taste in her mouth.

  The silence stretched until Ben added, “I’d like to help repair the damage.”

  His swooping in was bizarre. She preferred self-reliance. “That’s not necessary. I have things under control.” She hoped her voice conveyed enough dislike to put an end to his offer.

  “I know this is awful timing, but I only have a few weeks and I don’t know when I’ll be able to speak to you again.” He paused. “Is there a chance I can meet Theo tomorrow?”

  It felt as if two tiny gnomes were at war in her stomach. “I don’t want Theo hurt.” Her voice crackled.

  “I won’t hurt him.”

  “You already have.”

  “I won’t hurt him more,” Ben said in a monotone.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Helen asked, “How can you say that? You don’t know him. You don’t know how this will affect him.”

  “He deserves the truth,” Ben said.

  The words hit Helen like a shot to the chest. Again, she fell silent.

  “I saw him today.”

  For a second Helen thought he meant Harvey and almost laughed until she realized he was talking about Theo, she grew mute.

  “He was talking a firemen.”

  Helen held her breath.

  “Helen? Are you there?”

  She didn’t want to be. “Yes.”

  “He’s a good-looking young man.”

  Helen twirled the phone cord around one finger. Theo’s uncanny resemblance to Ben made his compliments sound conceited. “Yes he is.”

  “He seems responsible.”

  “He is responsible. I just wish he’d go to college.” Helen winced, wanting to retract her words. “He has no plans for his future?”

  “Oh, he has plans.” Theo’s aspirations were like her own, occasionally dancing into view before fading away.

  “He can call me Harvey if that makes you more comfortable. I’ll answer to just about anything.” Ben chuckled.

  Helen inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll just tell him that you’ve risen from the dead. That’s believable.”

  “You were protecting him as best you could when you told him I’d died. I don’t blame you. When can I meet him?”

  Helen contemplated hanging up, but worried Ben might show up on Agatha’s doorstep unannounced, she said. “Give me a couple days. I need to think this through.”

  “The sooner the better. Sorry if I’m a little anxious.”

  “How do I know this whole witness protection thing is even true?”

  “I brought newspaper articles and some of the US Marshal Service paperwork to show you.”

  Helen trusted everybody. ‘That’s not necessary,’ lingered in her mouth, but she stopped herself before the words toppled out. This was too important to accept willy-nilly, she wanted proof. “I need to see them.”

  “I can drop the paperwork by as soon as we hang up.”

  “Not you. Send a courier or something.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “We’re at my neighbor’s house. Hers is the only two-story house on the block. The woman you gave the business card to.”

  “I’ll have them to you within the hour.”

  “Fine,” Helen said, resigned.

  “Can I call you tomorrow? Once you’ve read through the documents?”

  Panic momentarily seized her voice. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “Please don’t wait too long.”

  “I won’t,” Helen snapped.

  After hanging up, Helen took a deep breath and stood. Her legs shook, and she put a steadying hand on the desk. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Of all the parenting challenges she’d faced, this one she had to get right. She returned to the living room where Agatha sat doing a crossword puzzle.

  “Everything okay?” Agatha asked.

  “A courier is bringing by some information. Once it arrives, I’m heading to bed.”

  Agatha must have sensed Helen’s need to be alone, because she simply nodded.

  Chapter 2

  The documents arrived in a large, brown manila envelope the size and weight of a half ream of paper. Helen took the package and retreated to her room.

  By lamplight, she examined the court transcripts, newspaper articles, and letters from the US Marshal Service marked classified.

  Helen paused at a black-and-white photo showing a throng of people outside a courthouse. Shot from above, it captured the tops of peoples’ heads. In the center, amid the sea of video cameras and microphones, Ben stared up. Gone was the cocky, smug athlete. In his place was a wide eyed, gaping young man overtaken by terror. Ben looked as if he expected to by gunned down.

  Ben had only been a few months older than Theo at the time the photo was snapped.

  Helen set the paper down and exhaled a breath she’d been holding. What was the point of going through anymore? The photo convinced her of Ben’s honesty.

  Regardless, that didn’t make telling Theo easier.

  She pushed the papers aside and turned out the light. Sleep evaded her. When the vision of her home burning didn’t command her attention, she dredged up every memory she had of Ben.

  Helen waited until 6:30 a.m. to go to the kitchen and was surprised to find Agatha seated at the table. As Helen poured herself a cup of coffee, Agatha brought up Hot Diggitys. Helen held up her hand while shaking her head. Without a word, she retreated to the laundry room, gathered her clothes, and returned to the bedroom and dressed. Lying atop the bed, she waited for Theo to wake up.

  Helen awoke to the sound of Theo’s voice and checked the clock. It was 9:45 a.m. She bolted off the bed. Hot Diggitys opened in an hour and fifteen minutes, and she was already late. Her mind was a flurry of lists. She hurried to the office and found Agatha sitting at the desk.

  “Can I use your phone?” she asked Agatha.

  “Sure, but I already covered your shift and Theo’s too. You can relax.”

  “What?” Helen’s slumped into the chair. “Thank you. I’ve got a million things to do today.”

  “When are you going to get a cell phone?” Agatha asked.

&nbs
p; Helen blew out a breath. “I’ve survived this long without one.” Helen heard Theo laugh across the hall and she glanced at the door. It was time to have the talk. She pushed out of the chair. “I’ll be back.”

  Theo’s door was open, and he stood silhouetted in the window clutching his cell phone to his ear. Helen knocked, and he spun to face her. “Hey Mom.”

  “Can we talk when you get off the phone?” Her words sounded warped as if her dread were squeezing the life out of them.

  His eyes widened. “I need to call you back later. Bye.” He snapped his cell shut.

  “You didn’t need to do that.” Helen’s shoulders sagged as she went to the chair and sat.

  “What’s wrong?” Theo plopped on the side of the bed and gawked at her.

  At first, Helen couldn’t find her voice. Words, piled one atop another, lodged in her throat. “Turns out your father is alive. He wants to meet you.”

  Theo cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You been smoking something?”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  “Huh.” He paused. “Seems like one because my mother told me, oh maybe a hundred times, my dad was dead.”

  Helen resisted the urge to squeeze the bridge of her nose. “I know. I–I assumed he was.”

  “Assumed? You said he died in a car crash. That he was in his 1960 Corvair. You told me a semi driver fell asleep and crossed into my dad’s lane. You said that more than once.”

  Helen tried to take a deep breath, but her chest felt squeezed as if it were in a vise. “You wanted details. I made all that up. I—” The truth hurt, and her breathing was quick and shallow. “I’m sorry.”

  When Theo’s eyes hardened, her heart splintered, and her anger toward Ben blazed. He should have found a way to communicate. What was she supposed to tell her child? Their child. “He’d disappeared without a trace. He was in a—”

  “How long has he wanted to meet me?” Theo interrupted.

  “I talked to him for the first time in eighteen years last night. I was with him when the fire started.”

  Theo narrowed his eyes then his gaze dropped to his hands. “If he hasn’t bothered to show up until now, I don’t think I need to meet him.”