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Can't Buy Me Love

Page 12

by Summer Kinard


  “No man. Just me and my raging desire to go back to sleep.”

  “How soon can I come pick you up?”

  “What time is it? I was up really late.”

  “I bet you were.” Vanessa could hear the smile in Gabi’s voice. “Who were you with? Doctor Mani?”

  “I was alone, Gabi. I developed creative urges this week and spent the night sewing.”

  “Well, you need to get your creative urges over here and help me. Mom is out of town, Ma invited her saints and mystics book group over for dinner tonight, and I have to figure out how to make gluten-free tortillas. F— gluten free tortillas?!”

  “This is why you woke me.”

  “Those women are catty, Nessa. They all want to pretend to be like the women they read about, all pious and stuff, but if you serve them crappy food, they start acting like you martyred them. I heard them the one time Ma got up the courage to cook for them. The conversation went from them all trying to interpret the symbolism in Hildegard’s painting or whatever, to the way that Jerome told a bunch of women not to eat.”

  “That’s catty?”

  “Trust me. With these women, it’s like calling someone tacky in an actual church building. Jerome is the guy they all hate the most.”

  “Why don’t you just cater the dinner?”

  “Jerome said not to waste money on food?” Gabi tried. “Please, Nessa. You are the only friend I have who can really cook. Help me?”

  “Okay. Give me thirty minutes to wake up and eat.”

  “Thirty minutes? But we have to make enchiladas after we do the tortillas.”

  “Fine. Twenty minutes and you buy me coffee and a Danish from Guglhupf.”

  “Deal.”

  Gabi arrived exactly twenty minutes later. She handed Vanessa a large paper coffee cup and a white bakery bag. The coffee was sweet and rich and made Vanessa much more willing to be awake.

  “So?” Gabi asked as soon as Vanessa got in the car. “You going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “A little bird told me you took Javier home with you on Wednesday night.”

  “Was he Filipino, with truly unmanageable hair and an uncanny way with booze and malt beverages?”

  “Maybe. So?”

  “I took Javier home with me Wednesday night.”

  “And I saw you making out on Thursday morning!” Gabi squealed. “Oh! I knew it!”

  “Don’t get too excited, Gabi. We didn’t have sex. We talked, we held each other, slept together on the couch, kissed, and then made each other so hot and bothered that we had to get out of my apartment in order to preserve our vows of chastity.”

  “What made you so hot and bothered if you weren’t breaking your vows of chastity?”

  “My hope chest. One thing led to another, and I was sitting there telling him I want to have his babies.”

  “Oh, my God, Nessa!” Gabi squealed again and turned her head to smile at her friend. “I’m so excited for you!”

  A car honked.

  “Calm down and watch the road, Gabi. Yes, it was lovely and deep and I think I am one hundred percent in love with him, but it was just kissing. I’m trying not to read too much into it. I mean, I don’t know Javier’s history. He may enchant all his love interests with his perfect eyes and kisses and——” Vanessa stopped to drink her coffee, a worried crease in her forehead.

  “I’ll get back to that first part in a minute, but first let me give you some good news. I talked to Nucleosa at rehearsal yesterday, and she said Mani never so much as kissed her on the lips.”

  “Really?!” Vanessa’s voice rose an octave with happiness.

  “Yes, so stop worrying,” Gabi grabbed Vanessa’s knee and squeezed. “Now, about that first part. In love? Seriously? I mean, I know Perla thinks so, too, but you have only seen him, what, three times?”

  “Four dates, six sightings. But I read those scrapbooks and studied the photos. I feel like I know him.”

  “You fell in love with a guy in a book.”

  “That’s not so weird. How many women do you know who would not throw their undergarments at Mr. Darcy?”

  “Okay, but you fell in love with a guy…from a book.”

  “The books helped,” Vanessa reflected, “but I think I love the real Javier. Everything I learn about him makes me like him more.”

  “Are you happy with him? I mean, not just horny happy, but do you actually feel-good-about-yourself happy?”

  Vanessa was quiet for a moment. She watched the thick patches of daisies along Gabi’s driveway wave in the breeze from the car. “Yes,” she looked at her friend and smiled, “I am so, so happy, Gabi.”

  Gabi searched her face for a long moment. Satisfied, she nodded. “Good.” She pulled the engine brake. “Then bring your happy self inside and help me make those tortillas.”

  In the entrance hall, they nearly ran into Carla as she walked backwards dragging a heavy statue. “Mis hijas! There you are. Vanessa, thank you for coming,” she patted Vanessa’s face. “Did Gabi tell you? The “Mystic Bitches” are coming over, and Marian is at her church conference. I forgot about it when I picked my month for dinner,” Carla paused her fretting to kiss both girls on the cheek.

  “Ma! What is that?” Gabi yelled, pointing at the statue with an expression of horror.

  “You think it’s too much?” Carla ran a dust cloth across the top of a circus-colored Jesus with a flaming heart. White paint obscured the chipped places on his garish beige hands, which were the only part of the statue that did not look like a parody of Catholic kitsch at its finest. “We are supposed to discuss Marguerite Porete, and I thought with all that love talk, that we could bring in Jesus.” She indicated the statue with a modest smile.

  “Ma, no. Look, go to the computer and print out a picture of this lady or where she lived or something. Stick it in the shrine. That’s plenty.”

  “But I think he looks good here. He’s welcoming the ladies into our home, and he looks nice by the novenas.” Carla could tell she was not getting anywhere with Gabi, so she turned to Vanessa. “What do you think? He looks good here, no?”

  “I don’t want to get involved,” Vanessa raised her hands in front of her chest. “I thought Maguerite Poirot or whatever she’s called was a jazz singer.”

  “That’s Madeline Peyroux, mija. Marian has her CD. I’ll go get it for you.” Carla walked down the hallway past the shrine toward the back of the house.

  “Quick! Help me hide this before Ma gets back.”

  “Where are we supposed to hide a four foot concrete Jesus?”

  “Just pick up the feet and let’s go. We have a whole list of places worked out.”

  “Wait. You and Marian hide Jesus?”

  “Come on. Out in the back garden. We can put him in the middle of those tall cosmos.”

  The women heaved Jesus across the yard as fast as they could go. Vanessa’s grip was starting to slip by the time Gabi led her to the sunny bed at the back of the garden.

  “I’m about to drop him.”

  “Don’t do it yet. Quick! Back here!” Gabi parted the yellow flowers and heaved Jesus’s shoulders into the thicket of blooms and stems that towered over her head. “Come on. If she doesn’t know where to start looking, he might stay hidden till winter.”

  “Wait. Did you plant those flowers just to hide Jesus?”

  “Maybe,” Gabi half smiled. “Hurry before she catches us.”

  Vanessa jogged behind Gabi through the door to a massive kitchen. They heard Carla’s footsteps on the tile in the hall.

  “Dios mío, Gabi! Where’s my Jesus?” Carla stomped into the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

  Gabi drank a glass of water and faked surprise at her mother’s entrance. “Maybe he’s risen, Ma,” she said nonchalantly between sips.

  Carla turned to Vanessa, who was studying the back of a bag of xanthan gum intently. “You!” she pointed at Vanessa. “Did you see where she put him?”

  “I�
�m sorry. What did you say?” Vanessa asked, holding out the bag of white powder between them. “I was just checking the recommended proportions. I think I know how we can get some decent tortillas. Do you have garbanzo bean flour?”

  “Ay, chicas. I know you are lying to me,” Carla sighed and shook her head at them. “Okay. The flours are in the pantry. Marian has everything marked in bins so I don’t accidentally eat something that will make me sick.”

  “Thanks, Ma. You go set up. We’ve got this.”

  Carla walked to her daughter and squeezed her face in one hand. “You should go to confession—stealing el Sagrado Corazón from your own mother.” She kissed Gabi’s cheek and turned to Vanessa. “Here’s your CD, mija.” She kissed her cheek and left the room.

  “Where was it before?” Vanessa whispered.

  “In the guest bedroom closet——at the very top where she was not supposed to be able to see it. I don’t know how she got him down by herself.”

  “There is never a dull moment around here, is there?” Vanessa laughed at her friend.

  “No, but we’d better get started. Jerome doesn’t approve of slothful women.”

  With Vanessa doing most of the recipe modification, she and Gabi managed passable tortillas. Gabi slid the second dish of enchiladas into the oven just as Carla reappeared in the doorway.

  “Okay, Ma, they are cooking. Anything else?”

  “Mis hijas, you saved me!” Carla stood between Gabi and Vanessa and hugged them both around the waists. “That should be all. I cleaned everything downstairs, Nain just did the yard yesterday, and I read that crazy Mirror book twice already.”

  “You might want to look in the mirror before you call her crazy,” Gabi said, looking at her mother with a deadpan expression.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “No, Ma. You have a four foot Jesus that’s way more gaudy than God.”

  Carla rolled her eyes and looked at Vanessa. A little silver medal glinted on top of her T-shirt. “Oh, I forgot to ask. It’s working, no? St. Raphael always works quickly.”

  “I would say it’s working, yes,” Vanessa smiled. “Let’s see. Since you gave it to me, Percy cured me of my shame, I started sewing again, and I had the best make-out session of my life.”

  “Since when did you have shame, hermana?” Gabi joked.

  “About being abused when I was little. I don’t think I even realized it until Percy and I talked. And then it was gone, and I felt like joy rushed in. I’m sewing again, and I bought all my favorite fruits. I feel good.”

  “You left out the details on the making out. It was with Mani?” Carla nodded hopefully.

  “Indeed it was.”

  “She’s in love with him, Ma.”

  “Already?”

  “Like you said, St. Raphael works fast.”

  Gabi’s pocket buzzed. “Bueno?” She smiled at her mother. “Percy? Yes. Just a minute,” Gabi handed her cell phone to Vanessa. “It’s Percy. She’s crying.”

  “Percy?”

  Vanessa listened for a moment, her forehead creased with concern. “Of course. I’ll see you in half an hour?” Vanessa gave the phone back to Gabi and sighed, “Percy is having a crappy day and wants to go foraging early so she has more time with Squeak tonight. Give me a ride back to my place?”

  “Sure.” Gabi picked up her keys off the counter and headed toward the front of the house.

  “Don’t forget your CD!” Carla reminded, waving the case toward Vanessa.

  When she got to her apartment, Vanessa rushed to the kitchen to clean out the fridge before going out with Percy. She found another packet of English cheddar hiding under a soggy cabbage. She threw out the cabbage and set the cheddar aside. It was too bad that she lived in an apartment with no space for composting. Once food left a freegan’s fridge, it was not fit for any other purpose. The cabbage joined a chunk of molded bread, two rotten tomatoes, and the trimmings from the week’s fruit, filling up the plastic grocery bag Vanessa used for trash. She would have to take it out before Percy arrived. She grabbed the bag and the cheddar and headed downstairs.

  “Margery? Are you home?” Vanessa called after knocking on her neighbor’s door.

  “Hey, there. What brings you around?” Margery wiped her face with a terrycloth hand towel draped over her shoulder. Vanessa could smell onions frying in the background. “I didn’t hear no loud noises the past couple of nights. Seen a man go in, though,” Margery puckered her lips in a joking smile.

  “I just came to bring you some more cheese,” Vanessa ignored the tease. “I found another package in my fridge just now. It’s still good if you get to it in the next few days.”

  “Thank you, honey. Listen, I ain’t nosing on you, just looking out for ya. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks, Margery. Oh, and I meant to say, thanks for folding my clothes. I completely forgot about them the other day.”

  “No problem. I got to get back to cooking. Y’all have a good day, now.”

  “See you.”

  Vanessa returned to her apartment just in time to meet Percy on the stairs.

  “What?” Percy asked, noticing Vanessa’s thoughtful expression.

  “Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking. It’s kind of weird that I will dig in dumpsters all over town, but I’ve never been in the one in our apartment complex.”

  “Don’t eat where you shit.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Vanessa feigned indignation. “Did Persephone Lundquist just say a swear?”

  “It’s not the first one today, I assure you,” Percy rubbed her eyes with the fingers on her left hand. “Vanessa, I have screwed up.”

  “Come in.” Vanessa started making them tea. “So, is this relationship screw up, or professional, or other?”

  “Yes. I had this big deadline for an article I’m publishing, so I blew Brigit off yesterday. Then she accused me of not caring for her and questioned our future together if I couldn’t even prioritize our relationship over one article. Then, I went out and bought her a ring I can’t afford. I won’t have money for groceries for the rest of the month,” Percy sniffled.

  “Then it’s good that you’re a freegan.”

  “Be serious, Vanessa. It’s exactly what I’ve feared. My career is screwing up my best shot at love.”

  “Wait a minute. When you say, ‘ring,’ do you mean the ring?”

  Percy smiled a watery smile. “I love her, Vanessa.” Fat tears ran down her face and her expression crumbled.

  “That’s good, Percy,” Vanessa patted her friend’s shoulder. “That’s beautiful. Not a reason for sad tears.”

  “I know. I don’t know why I’m crying. I’ve been like this for two days.”

  “And Squeak is also extra sensitive right now?”

  “Yes. It’s like—oh,” Percy laughed. “We’re synchronizing cycles,” she smiled in relief.

  “Come on. Forget the tea. This calls for some chocolate. Let’s head to Beans and Spice, and I will treat you to whatever Jill and Elliot think is a good trade for a pitcher of one of Durham’s finest brews.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  At the chocolate and coffee shop, Jill was sympathetic to Percy’s plight. Vanessa and Percy each murmured involuntary sighs of joy as they drank their dark sipping chocolate with custom spices.

  “Okay. This was worth having to eat from the trash all month,” Percy joked.

  “Wait. Haven’t you been sort of doing that for a few weeks anyway?”

  “Vanessa, I’m an assistant professor trying to get tenure. I eat the cool stuff we find when I can, but half the time it’s cold pizza or microwave meals or whatever I can scrounge after catered lectures at the university.”

  “Reagan knows where to get microwave meals before they defrost. Let me check with her, and we’ll hook you up.”

  “You can do that? Just consult the freegan network and feed the professor?”

  “Indeed I can. Ally’s probably the only one of
us who’s a stickler for non-frozen foodstuffs. But as the ladies always point out to me, what Ally doesn’t know will never hurt her.”

  Percy and Vanessa had a good haul of groceries and even found a bag of mostly fine cherries. Nearly all were overripe rather than rotten, and Vanessa planned to make them into jam as part of her renewed passion for domesticity. She invited Percy in for a few minutes when they got back to her apartment.

  “Okay, so which one of these do you like best?” Vanessa held up the two aprons she had made for her personal collection.

  “The one with the bikes and ruffles,” Percy said, fluttering the ruffles with her fingers. “Why?”

  “Because I understand that two of my friends are about to become engaged, and I want to get a sense of their colors when they set up house,” Vanessa grinned.

  “I want that so much!” Percy wailed, dissolving into tears again.

  “You two are going to be great together,” Vanessa soothed. When Percy had swallowed back her tears, Vanessa continued, “So, do you like these colors, or the graphics, or ruffles, or would you prefer something else entirely?”

  “I love the colors and the ruffles. But if I had a choice, I would probably go with that kind of abstract floral pattern you showed me at the store the other day.”

  “The suzani?”

  “She’s the one.”

  “I’ll make a note of it. If you can weasel any preferences out of Squeak, I would love to hear about them.”

  “Of course. Brigit is pretty susceptible to spilling her ideas if I catch her crocheting. I’ll try to bring it up so that she doesn’t suspect you.”

  “Crochet! I’m glad you mentioned that. I have a favor to ask, but of course take your time if y’all need to talk about other stuff. I want to make an afghan for my extremely dull bed, and I was wondering if Squeak could share some of her stash of remnants. Preferably wool.”

  Percy looked blank. “Confession: I have no idea what you just said. All I understood was crochet, talk to Brigit, and that you think your bed is dull. I had to write down your suggestion for the yarn I gave her. The yarn store lady laughed at me when I didn’t know what worsted was.”

  “Tell her I’m making a blanket of granny squares, and I want to mooch her scraps. She’ll understand.”

 

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