Edna in the Desert

by Maddy Lederman

  18

  SOUVENIRS

  “Grandma, do you have any idea where we can get fifteen chairs?”

  “Well, I think I have four or five chairs. Some people could sit on the couch inside or on the porch steps.”

  This marked the end of Edna’s interest in Grandma’s opinion of anything to do with the party.

  While Bishop’s was called a general store, it was really more of a supermarket. It probably did not sell folding chairs like other variety stores might. Still, the Bishops were the only people Edna knew who might help her with chairs. It would be the final favor she’d ask of Johnny. He said she should let him know if she needed anything else; in fact, he’d put it in writing. She definitely needed chairs. She had to order groceries for the party anyway. She dialed the store.

  “Bishop’s.”

  It was him.

  “Hi, Johnny. It’s Edna.”

  “Hi.”

  She thought this was a more special “hi” than he might give anyone else, that he sounded happy to hear from her.

  “Thanks for bringing the tables up last week. And for cleaning them. And for getting them down.”

  “Sure. Sorry again about…what happened.”

  “It’s OK. The chicks were gone when I came back.”

  “I put the nest back up there.”

  “Oh.”

  She liked picturing him doing that. Edna was sure a coyote had eaten them. There was a lot of proximity to death in the desert, but not this time. She went over her party list. Johnny was cute with the attentive way he said “uh-huh” to everything and wrote it all down, even if this was normal behavior for someone taking an order over the phone.

  “And can you think of anyone with chairs that I could borrow? Or where I could buy some?”

  “I could borrow some from Betty. How many do you need?”

  “Fifteen. Please.”

  “Big party, Edna.”

  Edna was well on her way to becoming a new girl: she was excited about getting tables and chairs for her party and did not take them for granted. Still, tables and chairs were not nearly enough to transform the place. The next mission was to decorate.

  “Grandma, do you mind if I use stuff from the garage for the party?”

  “No.”

  “I can use whatever I want?”

  “If it’s in there, Edna, you can use it.”

  Edna abandoned the rusty tool section she had been working on and rooted through the garage like the mouse in Grandma’s pantry.

  She thought a box of Christmas decorations would be a jackpot of possibilities, but Grandma’s ornaments were sad and covered in a film of oldness, like all of her things. The yellowing balls were painted with somber images of Jesus in the manger or on the cross. Edna’s family had much cheerier ornaments for Christmas. The only things she liked were Grandma’s white lights. They had big bulbs, which Edna preferred. If she could string them from the cabin to the eucalyptus trees, they would look nice lit up at dusk. Edna went outside to see if she thought she could. She needed the big ladder. It was heavy, and she probably couldn’t carry it to the cabin all the way from the garage.

  Mary was shocked when she saw what Edna had been up to in there. She hadn’t realized the garage was so chaotic until some of it was cleaned up. She never went into that garage; she feared her delicate state of mind wouldn’t sustain a challenge from all her old things. Instead, she was inspired by her granddaughter’s drive. Together, they were strong enough to get the ladder into the back of the Bronco. It hung out the back, but that was all right. Edna thought it was fun sitting on the rungs, weighing it down so it wouldn’t fall out while Grandma drove up to the cabin. It took a while to hang the Christmas lights because she had to get Grandma to help her every time she had to move the ladder. Finally, Grandma told her to finish hanging the lights later, when the sun was lower. It was just too hot to drag around a heavy ladder.

  Grandpa had a collection of old, embroidered handkerchiefs, and Edna thought it would be fun to use them as napkins. It meant bleaching and, of course, ironing them, which was another thing she could only do after dinner because of the heat. She started napping in the middle of the day and working into the evening so she could get more done. Soon Edna’s whole life revolved around making the party.

  She made flowers with wire and tissue paper and arranged them in Grandpa’s old bottles. She put together a set of silverware from what she could find in odd drawers in the pantry. Real silver was nicer than Grandma’s boring, old-person stainless, which there wasn’t enough of anyway. The silver was tarnished, but Edna remembered how to clean it from an article in Shimmer. She hated to admit that she was glad to have some of these tips. During this break from her mother, Edna could see that there were a few good things about her. Shimmer might actually be helping people.

  Sand had made its way into a box of wine glasses in the garage, through the folds of the paper protecting them. Edna found it hard to imagine Grandma throwing a dinner party and putting out the pretty crystal stemware cut with a delicate star pattern. She must have been a different woman when she got all these things. Nothing she did now made it seem like she missed them, but there was still something sad about the fact that Grandma never needed anything nice. Edna found a crumpled picture in the box with the glasses. It was of Grandma and Grandpa, taken around the same time Grandma won the prize at the San Diego County Fair. It was a humble wedding photo, and Edna hoped it was one of many because it was worn out and creased. She wondered why’d she’d never seen this before, but she remembered how Grandma reacted when she saw herself in the old newspaper article. She decided not to ask about it. It was strange that she felt proud of Grandpa in his Marine uniform, because what she’d learned about wars and fighting them was that they were always bad. He looked handsome, strong and completely conscious. She liked his smile. Grandma smiled here, too. She wore a pretty white dress and held flowers and had everything to live for. They were a gorgeous couple by a beach. Maybe it was Pismo Beach, from Grandpa’s notepad. She kept the pad, in case it was, with the photo, and saved them with Johnny’s note on the Bishop’s receipt and the article in The Desert Weekly. She was accumulating quite a few souvenirs.

  Making this party required the effort of a young pioneer woman preparing for a cross-country trek. Luckily, Edna had practice with the chores she’d been doing for weeks and a lifetime of arts and crafts projects. Having goals made the time pass, and being with Johnny for a few hours would be more than worth it, though Edna confessed to herself that she didn’t entirely understand why. In any case, the week flew by with so many tasks, and it seemed like no time at all before the red truck zipped through the basin again.

  Edna sipped her coffee and watched it through the window in the big room this week. She shouldn’t be waiting outside for Johnny every time he came over. Shimmer said it was good to create mystery with a man and not linger, always available. Edna didn’t know if love meant presenting herself as the opposite of who she was, but it was working. As far as Johnny was concerned, she had things to do; she didn’t even remember he was coming this morning. He parked and looked over for her before he went to the back of the truck. Good. Edna waited. She waited more. Was he kidding around with her? What was taking so long?

  When she was too curious to be mysterious any longer, she went out to the back of the truck. Johnny had a cooler and ice, and he was putting in perishables.

  “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

  “Hey. I figured you needed someplace to put all this.”

  He put in more ice on top.

  “Johnny, do most people you deliver to have iceboxes or refrigerators?”

  He laughed.

  “Most people have refrigerators.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Do you think people here have no television or refrigerators? We know about Google, you know.”

  “Well, Grandma and Grandpa don’t know about it.”

  “No, they sure don’t. What
do you do out here all day, anyway?”

  “I paint the porch. I read after dinner.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

  Edna couldn’t get used to the roller-coaster-like rushes that came whenever she was with him. She’d heard of this. It could have been because of the way he smiled or the way he made her feel better about her pathetic summer, but analyzing it was only accentuating it. She saw the fifteen wooden folding chairs he’d brought, all white, packed in the back of the truck.

  “Those are the only kind she has.”

  “They’re perfect.”

  Other boys had liked Edna in the past. Jason Sinclair texted her fifty-six times in one day, and Brian Sutcliff cried over her in front of everyone in the gym. Neither of them was smart enough to be this nice.

  19

  THE DAY OF

  When the desert sand was clean, it looked more exotic. Edna liked it better than the scrub-covered desert she was in. She pulled every weed growing near the cabin out of the ground. It gave the space definition, and it became its own sort of oasis from the wild. She had a new appreciation for what it took to keep the desert elements tamed, and she finally understood why Cleopatra was always bathing and primping herself in the old, biblical movies that came on TV around Easter. It took an entire army just to keep the sand out of her tent and off her plush pillows and rugs.

  Edna overlapped Grandma’s old Oriental rugs on the ground under the tables to make the space look more like a dining room. She knew it would be impossible to get all the sand off them afterwards, but the guilt she felt about it did not override how much better it looked. They were rolled up in the garage and would probably never be used again anyway. Grandma’s tablecloths were a nest for mice and completely ruined, so Edna used white sheets instead. With the rugs underneath and Grandma’s good dishes finally out, the table reminded her of a scene in one of her father’s films, an officers’ dinner during the British occupation of someplace in North Africa. Or it resembled the scene from a distance. There were too many improvisations, like the sheets, the homemade flowers and the mismatched silverware. Still, it was charming, maybe because it wasn’t too serious. In any case, Edna decided it was better than what she’d have paid thousands for if she’d hired Perfect Party.

  Grandma started baking before sunrise, whipping batter, lining the bottoms of cake pans with pineapple rings and putting chopped cherries and walnuts into their holes. While things were heating or cooling, she dressed herself and Grandpa. Whether Edna realized it or not, this was a special occasion for him and a ton of work for her. It hadn’t occurred to Edna that Grandma might have needed help making three Pineapple Upside-Down Cakes, but if she did, she was out of luck. Edna had to rearrange furniture, clean the whole cabin and make herself beautiful before six.

  Edna took extra care with her hair and her makeup, and she experimented for the first time with putting tissue in her bra. She knew other girls did this. She thought it was idiotic to attract a boy to something he might eventually find out was fake, but she hoped she was not fully developed yet, so she could eventually make good on a false impression. She wished she was just a little older. She was careful not to put in too much tissue. She’d just seen Johnny three days ago, and it was a fine line between an artful enhancement and a freakish growth spurt.

  Thirty minutes before the party, Grandma and Grandpa sat on the porch, completely ready. Grandpa was shaved and had a haircut. He wore a white button-down shirt with a navy sport jacket and matched the party well enough, even if there was no cure for the vacant expression on his face. Grandma looked exactly like she did when they went to town.

  “You and Grandpa look really nice.”

  Edna meant it, but she was also hoping to raise Grandma’s spirits a touch, which might make her a better co-hostess. It was hard to imagine that twelve people would be coming shortly and that Grandma would have to greet them all. Edna wondered if Grandma would say anything about her chest, but she only said, “You look nice too, Edna.”

  Edna sat on the ugly couch inside for a while before she went back to the bathroom and took the stuffing out of her bra. She couldn’t forget it was there. She was nervous enough; there was no point in being more self-conscious. When she came out onto the porch, the wind had disappeared. The world was quiet. Dust rose over the hill, announcing the first guests’ arrival.

  20

  THE PARTY

  Motorcycles cut up the dirt road, and the leather-vested riders howled louder than their engines.

  “Zeke! Zeke, you nut!”

  They came so close to the cabin, Edna thought they were going to drive right up the porch. They dumped their bikes and charged over to Grandpa without even acknowledging that Edna and Grandma were there. Edna had an immediate aversion to the men. They shook Grandpa’s chair.

  “Look at ’im!”

  “All gussied up in a suit!”

  It’s not a suit, it’s a jacket, Edna thought, but whatever.

  The one named Freddy handed Grandma a six-pack of sodas. Edna would try to remember that Raul had the longer, gray ponytail, and that Freddy was fatter, which started with “F.” Raul and Freddy were a little younger than Grandpa. Their vests were covered in patches, and their skin had tattoos about MIAs and POWs. Edna knew it had something to do with Vietnam, something bad. She’d add it to her list of things to look up when she got home. The list was getting pretty long.

  “You must be Edna.”

  “Yes. Thanks for coming today.”

  “It’s real nice of you to throw this party for your grandpa.”

  “Thank you.”

  Raul added, “And he has a nice granddaughter.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  It didn’t exactly make sense, but Edna wasn’t really listening. She was reading one of Raul’s tattoos. It was a dog tag with the inscription:

  I will be strong and courageous.

  I will not be terrified or discouraged.

  The Lord is with me wherever I go.

  She thought it was heavy that he kept these words in a place where everyone could see that he needed them. It made her uncomfortable. She watched for more cars coming across the ridge and reminded herself to relax. Of course everyone was coming. It was only thirty seconds into the party.

  The men cracked open soda cans and sat at Grandpa’s feet on the porch. This wouldn’t have been the scene Edna had in mind for the rest of the guests to walk into: two round-bellied bikers guzzling on the steps, hollering at their man Zeke. People might think Edna had given them their cans of no-name cola, which she would never serve, but if she did, she wouldn’t serve it in a can. She didn’t ask anyone to bring anything in the first place. She was careful to sound sweet when she said, “Would you guys like to sit in chairs?”

  “No, this is fine.”

  Freddy stretched his feet down to the next step.

  “That’s a beautiful table, though.”

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” Raul agreed.

  “Way too nice for here.”

  “Thank you. Excuse me.”

  Edna’s heart pounded at the sight of the red delivery truck, and she ran in its direction to get a better view. She liked seeing it at a different time of day, and with the sun at another angle she could read “Bishop’s General” from much further off, although she couldn’t see inside. Soon she realized she shouldn’t be standing there intently focused on the truck’s progress toward the cabin in front of Grandma and the bikers, and Johnny, for that matter. She went inside and counted to ten. She had to remind herself to be easy and breezy and not to run up to Johnny like a refugee at a food drop. When she came out again, the truck was parked, and the driver’s side door opened. A leg in sports pants stuck out and jostled around before the person attached to it emerged. For a moment Edna wondered if it was at all possible that Johnny ever wore synthetic, beige sports pants, but Johnny’s grandfather, Bill, stepped out of the truck. His wife, Winnie, got out of the passenger side.

  “Mary M
iller! Mary, do you know the last time I was out here was years ago? I don’t even know how many,” Bill shouted.

  “I have no idea,” Grandma responded flatly.

  “It must be Edna! I’ve seen you twice since she’s been here. You have a magical granddaughter. A very magical granddaughter!”

  His enthusiasm was slightly ridiculous, but Edna was a little charmed.

  “Hi, Mr. Bishop.”

  “Hello, young lady. Look, Winnie. Look at this table!”

  Winnie wore a white top with a blue flower print and matching blue pants. She squealed when she saw the table. She was a female version of her husband.

  The rest of the guests arrived, except for the most important one. Edna thanked Johnny’s Aunt Betty for her chairs and realized she must have been his great-aunt. A frail woman named Laura was introduced to Edna as Grandpa’s home-care therapist from years ago.

  “I tried for to bring Zeke out of his shell, and he’d come out of it now and then for a long time, but that last time he fell into it, I think that might have been for good.”

  Laura lived in a place called Thompson Valley that she described as “really remote.” In this context Edna had no idea what that could mean. Thankfully, Laura was enticed by how much bigger Grandma’s garden was than the last time she had been there, and she had to go take a look. Small talk was challenging, even though most of it was complimenting Edna on how pretty she was and how nice it was of her to make a party for her grandparents. All Edna could see was that, so far, every one of these guests had gray hair. It was depressing. Her party looked like an old-age home. She had known most of the guests would be older adults, but Edna hadn’t considered this possibility. No one had gray hair in Brentwood, not even old people.

  Shep Caulfield asked Edna where the bathroom was, and she went inside to show him. He hadn’t even bothered to brush his gray hair. When she came out again, an old, blue Jeep was parking with the rest of the cars. Jenny from the store got out of it, slammed the door and walked toward the cabin. She seemed angry and aloof and, to Edna, way too beautiful. She didn’t remember the girl she saw in the store as that pretty, and she would have thought twice about accidentally not inviting Jenny if she did. Her backlit blond locks bounced around her shoulders. Johnny got out of the driver’s side, which could only mean that he’d driven the Jeep while she was in it. He took off his sunglasses. He said something to Jenny that Edna couldn’t hear, and Jenny shrugged and ignored him. Johnny shook his head.