by E. C. Bell
She parked a few car lengths away from the rundown little trailer and cracked the window. Then she turned on the radio, humming along to another stupid love song. After a few minutes, she reached behind her. I was expecting her to pull out one of the many sandwiches she’d made, but she didn’t. Instead, she pulled out an industrial-sized pair of binoculars.
“Huh,” I said, as she pointed the binoculars at the trailer and stared. “Look at you, all stalkery and such.”
I was impressed. She looked like she knew what she was doing.
Way in the back of my brain, I wondered if she’d ever done anything like that to me, but I blew it off almost immediately.
“No way,” I said. “You wouldn’t have the guts.”
After a few minutes of staring at the trailer, she tsked and put down the binoculars. “Not even the old lady’s home,” she said. “Now, where would they be? Guess I’ll have to find out.” She headed out of the car, dragging me with her.
Kind of embarrassing, dragging along the ground for a step or two until I managed to match her, stride for stride. But I was pretty satisfied, too. My light strings held good. Looked like I’d be able to go anywhere she did.
She and I walked up the stairs. She tried the door, and when it was locked, looked around furtively and then checked under the mat. Picked up the key—why does everyone use their mat?— and unlocked the door. Took another look around and stepped inside.
She was right. That trailer was completely empty, except for a little black and white dog that growled at Rosalie’s feet until she kicked out at it with a curse. It skittered away and hid in one of the rooms down the short hallway.
I kinda hoped she’d leave the dog alone. I liked dogs.
There was a calendar hanging on the wall above the kitchen counter. She glanced at it, then focused, and laughed.
“They’re having a party,” she said. “At Rhonda’s.”
She didn’t touch anything else. Just left the trailer, dragging me with her, locking the door, and carefully replacing the key under the mat.
Then we got into her car and drove away.
Gotta say, in spite of myself, I was impressed. The girl had some skills.
Marie:
Rhonda’s McMansion
WE RANG THE front doorbell to Rhonda’s McMansion and listened as three sets of shoes stampeded to the door. It flew open, and Rhonda’s three kids stood in all their finery, staring at us as though they couldn’t quite remember what they were supposed to do next. The little girl, Kaitlyn, snuck her thumb into her mouth, her eyes wide and suddenly fearful. The second oldest boy, Matthew, looked like he was going to cry, and I wondered how long it had been since they’d seen their grandma.
“You going to let us in?” I asked.
Ethan, the oldest boy, came to his senses first. He grinned and pushed Matthew out of the way.
“Come in,” he said. “Mom’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
He took a tentative step forward and gave Mom a hug that barely touched her. “Good to see you, Grandma,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough, boy.” Mom patted him on the back twice before releasing him and looking at Matthew. “How are you?”
“Good,” Matthew said, his eyes huge in his small white face. “Can you walk?”
Surprisingly enough, that broke the tension.
“Of course I can, boy!” Mom laughed and then jumped up the last step and into the house. I figured she’d pay for that, but all three kids’ faces wreathed in relieved smiles. “See? Spry as all get-out!”
“Spry?” Matthew asked, his little white forehead wrinkling as he mulled over the unfamiliar word.
“Spry,” Mom said again, and patted him, too, before pushing past him. “Let’s go see your momma.”
MOM WAS RIGHT. I should have worn a dress.
Rhonda was all decked out in a simple black number with pearls (of course), way-too-high heels, and a multi-coloured apron that covered most of the front of her. Her hair was swept in an updo that looked like it was defying gravity, and her earrings were so big and heavy, they pulled her lobes to painful-looking triangles of flesh.
She looked up from pouring drinks when we walked into the kitchen. Her smile looked forced when she looked at me, and I was ready to go to the unladylike place, until I saw, around her eyes, worry and fear.
So I said, “Can I help you with anything?” instead.
She blinked at me in surprise and motioned to the glasses, filled with ice and something red and topped with mint leaves. “You can hand them out, if you like.”
“Where’s Jasper?” Mom asked.
“He’s in the great room, watching some sort of sporting event,” Rhonda said, and motioned to the beautifully decorated table at the other end of the huge kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down? You look tired, Mom.”
“I’m fine,” Mom said, but gratefully took the chair that James pulled out for her.
“Good to see you, James,” Rhonda said, as he helped Mom settle the chair closer to the table.
“And you, Rhonda,” James said. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Why, thank you,” Rhonda said, and I swear I saw a blush touch her cheeks. “I’ll give you the grand tour after the meal. If you want?”
“That’d be just fine,” James said. He pointed to the kitchen. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, no,” Rhonda said. “Marie’s going to help me. Aren’t you?”
I nodded, which seemed to surprise everyone in the room, including me. I busied myself with my waitress duties, handing out glasses of red stuff to everyone.
“Should I take some of this in to Jasper?” I asked. It had been a while since I’d seen him, and I wanted to say hi. No matter how hard Rhonda was to deal with, Jasper had always been kind to me.
Rhonda shook her head. “I think they’re drinking beer,” she said. “James, I would imagine you don’t want to sit in here with us women while we prepare the meal. Why don’t you go in the great room, with Jasper and Dad?”
The room went still and silent. Absolutely silent. James looked surprised.
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly.
“Why wouldn’t he want to?’ Rhonda snapped. “He likes sporting events, don’t you?” She glanced at James as though daring him to say anything bad against whatever the men were watching in that room.
“He doesn’t know anybody,” I said.
Rhonda turned on me, ready to do battle, but James shook his head at me and smiled at Rhonda. Then he touched Ethan on the shoulder.
“Will you show me the way?”
Ethan gave his mother a quick look, as if for her approval, then led James to a door at the far end of the kitchen. He opened it, and we could all hear a baseball game blaring on an unseen television. They both disappeared, and the silence again fell over the room.
Rhonda took it as long as she could, which was about three seconds.
“What?” she said, her voice cracking. “I told you I was inviting him. I told both of you.”
Kaitlyn sniffled and blinked, then burst into confused tears. Mom held out her arms, and the little girl ran into them. With difficulty, Mom picked her up and held her in her lap, soothing her to eventual quiet.
“We knew he’d be here, Rhonda,” I said. “It’s just—it’s been a while.”
“I understand,” Rhonda said, but I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t even trying to understand.
The recent conversations I’d had with Dad—and then with Mom—jumped into my head, and I frowned. I didn’t have the whole picture, and hadn’t for a long time, if ever.
I wondered if Rhonda had the same problem.
“You don’t have to worry about us, Rhonda Jane,” Mom said. I blinked. You really had to hit a big button with Mom to get her to call you by both your names. It appeared Rhonda had done it. “We will treat him humanely. Won’t we, Marie?”
I suddenly didn’t feel comfortable with being on Mom’s
side in all this. So I didn’t say anything.
Rhonda sniffed. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for.”
She was probably right.
I helped Rhonda prepare the food. I filled bowls while she pulled two roasted chickens from the oven and carefully set them on a platter.
“I thought you were vegetarian,” I said.
“Jasper isn’t as enthusiastic about the vegetarian diet as I am.” Rhonda sighed. “On special occasions, we have fowl.”
She said the word fowl as though it left a bad taste in her mouth, and I nearly laughed. But I clung to the frayed ends of my more-or-less promise to act ladylike and shut my mouth.
We took the platters and bowls of food and set them down in the centre of the long wooden table. It all looked good and smelled delicious, and my stomach rumbled hungrily.
“It all looks wonderful,” Mom said. She set Kaitlyn on her feet and pointed to the doorway that led to the great room. “Why don’t you go get the men, honey?” she said. “So we can all enjoy this wonderful meal your mama made?”
The little girl nodded, popped her thumb in her mouth, and skipped to the far door. She pushed it open and called, “Thupper!” around her thumb. Then she grinned and ran to the chair beside Mom’s.
I heard the television snap off. Then the men walked into the room. First, the slightly overweight, slightly bald Jasper, grinning like a nervous dog. Then James. And then, finally, my dad.
And there we were. All of us in the same room for the first time in what felt like forever.
Dad looked over everyone in the room, but when he got to my mom, his eyes stopped, and he stared.
“My God, Sylvie,” he finally said, his voice shaking. “My God.”
“It’s good to see you, Myles,” Mom said. “I’m sure.”
He nodded, as though checking that he still could do that, then reached over and touched my arm. “Good to see you, Marie.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I tried to think of something else to say—anything that would fill the echoey silence of that room. Finally pointed at one of the last glasses left. “Want a drink?”
“Please,” he said, like a man who was dying of thirst. Took the glass, stared at the red stuff in it, and frowned. “What is this?”
“Tastes like cherry,” Mom said. “I think.”
“It’s homemade cherry lemonade,” Rhonda said, her voice tight. “With mint. I got the recipe off the internet.”
Dad put the glass down, looking like he thought there was a very good chance whatever was in it would kill him.
“Got any more rye?” he asked.
Rhonda sniffed, but Jasper sprang to attention. “Let me get your glass refilled for you, Mr. Jenner.” He dove for the great room and returned a few moments later, with Dad’s glass, now full to the brim. He set it at one of the empty places at the table.
“You can sit here,” Jasper said. “Beside me.”
“Thanks, Jasper.” Dad spoke kindly enough, but Jasper hitched as though he was trying to keep from flinching away from him.
I was beginning to suspect that things hadn’t been so easy for Rhonda’s perfect little family.
We all took our seats. Then we looked at Rhonda expectantly. She was, after all, the one who had set up this shindig.
“Dig in!” Rhonda cried, frantic gaiety in her voice and her eyes. “I hope you all enjoy!”
So we did. I helped the kids fill their plates, and watched my dad drink his glass to the dregs. His eyes stayed on Mom. Mom did not return his gaze once. Just looked at either her plate or Rhonda.
It all felt horribly uncomfortable, and silence leaked in, freezing the dinner party like liquid nitrogen. Then James stepped up and took over as the official party guy.
“This all looks wonderful, Rhonda,” he said. “It must have taken you all day to prepare it.”
This gave Rhonda the opening she needed, and she spent the next fifteen minutes describing, in excruciating detail, how she made every dish on the table.
James listened with rapt attention, and even managed to ask a few intelligent-sounding questions. Then he turned to Jasper and quizzed him on the baseball game they’d been watching. Wanted to know everything. Who was Jasper’s favourite team. How were they doing in the standings. What were their chances for winning it all.
This loosened up Jasper. He talked, and smiled, and got Dad another drink. He even gave Rhonda a quick squeeze before he sat down. Rhonda looked surprised, and then genuinely smiled.
It had been a long time since I’d seen Rhonda genuinely smile.
James quizzed the kids about their favourite things, and then had to listen to Kaitlyn prattle on about some new line of stuffed animals she was collecting.
“They’re big, just like Big Puppy,” Kaitlyn said. She flashed her eyes in my direction. “You remember Big Puppy, Auntie Marie?”
“Yep,” I said. “I remember.”
“He sits on my bed,” Kaitlyn said. “He’s my bestest friend.”
What?
I glanced at Mom, and she shrugged. “She liked it. When I was packing up your stuff, Rhonda asked if she could have it. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I said, distantly. “I’m just a little surprised.” I glanced at Rhonda and her face flushed.
“I couldn’t believe you didn’t take him,” she said. “When you left.”
I hadn’t taken anything but the clothes on my back when I’d made my break from McMurray. I’d always meant to come back and pick up a few things, but it never seemed to work out.
“Do you want Big Puppy back? You can have him, if you want.” Kaitlyn stared at me with her big blue, ever-so-serious eyes, and then she blinked and I realized that those eyes were filling with tears.
She loved that stuffed dog as much as I had.
“Oh no, Kaitlyn,” I said. “He’s yours now.”
“Oh good,” she said, and laughed shakily. “He’s my best friend.”
“Thanks for saving him,” I said, my stupid throat so tight I sounded like I was strangling. “He deserved a good home.”
Then I looked at Rhonda. She stared back, her hand to her mouth.
“I thought everything was gone,” I said.
She blinked hard, like she was going to cry. “I kept all your stupid stuffed animals. I missed you, you idiot.”
“But you hate me,” I said. My voice sounded thin, like surprise had punched the life out of it.
Rhonda laughed shakily and dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Not all the time. You’re my sister.”
Oh.
Luckily, James came to my rescue.
“Anybody want seconds?” He picked up the half empty bowl of mashed potatoes. “I’m serving!”
Everybody laughed, and the meal went on. And it was better. Most of the tension had leached out of the room, and we were almost acting like a regular family having a meal.
That was some feat. I hadn’t realized James had those kind of skills.
Even Mom loosened up enough to thank Dad when he handed her the pepper. Dad grinned like she’d kissed him full on the lips. Quite a thing to see.
“That was a wonderful meal,” Jasper said, when the last of us finally put down our forks and leaned back in our chairs. “Rhonda, I think we should let the kids have their dessert in the great room, so we can enjoy a little quiet time here. What do you say?”
Rhonda nodded, and the children cheered and scattered. Rhonda busied herself getting them settled in front of the huge flat screen TV, with pieces of Mom’s chocolate cake and glasses of milk.
While she was gone, James and I cleared the table.
“I hope you don’t mind,” James said, when Rhonda returned. “It was the least we could do, you feeding us so well and all.”
Rhonda looked at me, eyebrows raised, and I shrugged. “He didn’t even have to twist my arm or anything,” I said.
“Well, I’d say keep this one,” Rhonda said. “He’s definitely a catch.”
“Good.” Rhonda almost smiled, and then looked around the table. “Anybody want coffee?”
I put my hand up, hoping others would join, because I wasn’t sure Rhonda would make any if it was only me.
Yeah, we’d had our moment, but still. I pissed her off more times than not.
“I’d like some too,” James said. I smiled at him appreciatively, and he smiled back.
“I think I’ll stick with the rye,” Dad said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit,” Mom said, and my stomach tightened. I recognized that tone from the bad old days.
“Mom,” I said. “Not here.”
“I can stand up for myself,” Dad said. Then he turned to my mother. “At least you’re talking to me.”
Mom sniffed. “You could have talked to me anytime, Myles. All you had to do was call.”
Dad laughed, and finished his drink in one large gulp. Held out his glass, and Jasper quickly refilled it.
“That’s not quite the truth, Sylvie,” he said. “And you know it. I do call. You just won’t give me the time of day, anymore.”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Mom said. “There’s nothing you can do. You and I both know that. This next bit will be difficult.” She sighed. “I wanted to spare you that.”
“Cutting me out isn’t sparing me anything, Sylvie.”
What was going on? They hated each other. Couldn’t stand being in the same room—the same house. That was why their marriage had blown up. Why we’d lived in a trailer, blocks away from the house where we’d been born.
I glanced at Rhonda, but she looked as confused as I felt.
“I thought you guys didn’t speak,” I said.
Neither of them answered me. Just stared at each other like they were the only two people in the room.
“You don’t have to go through this by yourself,” Dad said.
“I have the girls.” Mom’s voice tightened, and she pressed her napkin to her mouth, delicately.
“You have me too,” Dad said. “You know that.”
Mom shook her head. “You know that won’t work. We can’t—”
