Stilettos & Scoundrels

by Laina Turner

  Chapter 3

  I rocked out to Pearl Jam as I headed down the highway the last few miles to my parents’ home in Alkon. I enjoyed leaving the exhaust filled smell of the city and watching the skyscrapers morph into the calmer landscape of suburbia. Seeing the rolling countryside just beginning to green up with spring cheered me. I didn’t usually notice the landscape on the drive to Alkon; I was always too preoccupied with work, but today I realized how different Chicago and Alkon were, although they were only a few hours apart. The city was still my favorite place, but I could appreciate the pretty landscape outside the city too.

  Nothing like a calming roadside view and good music to put a person in a good mood.

  After yesterday’s drama, I was surprised to wake up in such a good mood. I realized I was probably in denial about not having a steady income, but I refused to let it get to me. It was then I decided I needed to take advantage of this unexpected time off, and decided to pay my parents a visit.

  HOLY CRAP! I slammed on the brakes, and my car skidded sideways, coming to a shuddering stop about two inches from a cow. This was why I lived in the city. You might have to watch out for drunks and crazy people wandering around the streets, but traffic didn’t move fast enough for it to be much of an issue. My heart pounded, and my hands shook as I thought about how my poor Kia would have crumpled around me like an accordion if I had hit that cow. The cow didn’t even seem fazed by the near miss. It looked at me through the windshield as if to say, What? Is there a problem?

  I sat there for a second longer, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal and willing the cow to get the hell out of the middle of the road. The shoulders out here were pretty much non-existent, and there wasn’t enough room to go around. Where had this thing come from anyway? The cow quit staring at me and ambled the rest of the way across the road. Thank God there wasn’t any traffic coming, or there would have been quite a backup. Feeling a little more composed, I started to laugh. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends in the city about this. They would never believe it. I should have taken a picture.

  I pressed the gas to move back on down the road and immediately slammed on the breaks again. A puppy had replaced the cow in the middle of the road scenario. What was going on here? There weren’t any other cars around. I could only see one farmhouse up ahead, and the last one I had passed about a half mile ago. Houses in this area were few and far between, it was very rural. I put the car in park and left the engine idling while I strolled over to get a puppy since he, or she, was plopped down right on the yellow line. Probably a warm place to lie but not the safest. Had I not already been driving slow from the cow incident, I might not have even seen the little guy.

  “Come here, little buddy,” I called, crouching down and holding my hand out so it could sniff. The puppy looked at me for a second. Not scared at all, it got up, trotted over to me, and licked my hand furiously. I started laughing and scratching its belly. It rolled over, and I could see it was a she. “Where did you come from, huh? Where do you belong?” She was too cute, a lab of some sort, not that I was a dog expert or anything. She was black with a little tuft of white under her chin. I scooped her up and put her in my car. I couldn’t leave her out here alone. Even though there was little traffic here, she could get hit by a car.

  She turned around once and promptly lay down in the passenger seat, closing her eyes while I put the car in drive and backtracked to the farmhouse.

  After the people there had said they didn’t have a puppy, and didn’t know where she could have come from, I decided I would just take her to my parents’ house with me. They wouldn’t be thrilled, but they wouldn’t be surprised either. Me bringing stray animals home was fairly common. At least it had been when I was growing up.

  The more I thought about not working at my old job, the freer I felt. These next few days were going to be fun. I could catch up with Katy and maybe some other old school friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Relax and regroup.

  Katy Smythe had been my best friend all through high school. The kind with who you share all your secrets and talk on the phone about boys. It was funny to think of what was high drama back then, though sometimes eighteen–year–old–boy drama was remarkably similar to thirty something boy drama. Lately, our relationship had been relegated to the occasional Christmas card, which I felt bad about because Katy had always been there for me. Time just seemed to get away, and before I knew it, months passed. I was terrible about keeping up with old friends. I spent all my time working to reach my professional goals. That didn’t work out so well, so I resolved to change my priorities.

  I pulled into my parents’ driveway and couldn’t help smiling at what I saw. The landscape was beautiful. It was moments like these, when I came back home to visit, that I realized why my parents loved living here so much. The long and twisty driveway lined with huge oak trees just starting to develop small green buds with the onset of warm spring weather. My mother had already planted some beautiful red and pink flowers. Gardening was her source of pride, and she spent hours outside in the yard making sure things were perfect. Every year she tried to out–do herself in making the yard look even better.

  As I took in the sight of my parent’s house, memories of being a kid flooded back. Walking to the school bus had always been a chore. In bad weather, it seemed to take forever to get to the protection of the little dollhouse-like bus stop house my dad had built to shelter me while I waited. And when I’d been late for the bus, which was often, I had to run down the entire length of the driveway, screaming all the way, so the bus wouldn’t leave me.

  My parents, Clark and Sue Thurman, lived in the same two–story white Colonial house for over thirty years. This had always been a loving home, and as I approached the familiar white house, a feeling of calmness washed over me. There was something about coming back to a place that, for eighteen years, had been a source of comfort. Although I couldn’t wait to get out of this small town when I turned eighteen and went off to college, I could also appreciate the peace of my home now. After adding one more crappy boyfriend to my string of losers, and after losing my job, I needed some tranquility. Maybe this visit could be the start of a harmonious relationship with my mother, like the one I had always envisioned. I envied the way my friend Julie from the city was with her mom, always shopping and gossiping on the phone. Julie’s mom seemed interested in what she was doing, not so critical.

  As my black Kia Sportage rolled to a stop in front of the detached garage, my parents walked out onto the wraparound porch. My dad had built the porch himself. Carpentry wasn’t one of his best talents, but at the time, my parents couldn’t afford to have someone build it for them. My mother wanted a porch so badly, because many of her friends had one, that dad spent all of his spare time researching how to build it. Back in the days before YouTube when it was much harder than Googling a how-to video. Many weekends and a few injuries later, she had her porch, which she loved, crooked boards and all. I could only hope to get a great guy like that someday.

  I stepped out of my car as my dad walked up and gave me a big hug. I smelled comfort in my dad’s tried and true Old Spice cologne.

  “We’re so glad that you’re here,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. Noticing the puppy, who by this time had jumped out of the car, he just shook his head and smiled but didn’t say a word. Knowing my mom would have plenty to say. He went and grabbed my hot pink suitcase out of the back of my car, and I grabbed the rest of my stuff. A carry-on tote and my computer bag, which was excessive for a weekend with the folks, but you never knew what might come up. I needed to have the right shoes for every situation, even in Alkon. Shoes, bags, and accessories of all kinds were just as important as food; actually, they were probably more important than food. Right after coffee and before food was probably the perfect priority for accessories.

  “Me, too, Dad,” I said affectionately, realizing how much I missed him. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Just over six feet tall, his dark
wavy hair was now starting to turn silver, which always looked good on men. Not fair at all. He had dark brown eyes, almost black, but they were always sparkling. My dad and I had always had a close relationship because he had played the role of mediator between my mom and me on many occasions.

  “It’s been too long since the last time you were here. I know you’re busy with your life in the city, but we’re not that far away,” he chided gently.

  “I know, I know. Mother never fails to remind me each time we talk.” It was precisely why I had to force myself to call home each week. I loved my mother, but I hated being made to feel guilty. I didn’t call enough or come home enough. I was good enough at making myself feel guilty; I didn’t need her help.

  “She only acts that way because she misses you, King,” my dad replied. Using my long time family nickname, which, for the record I hated, no doubt the reason my dad still used it. Because he knew, it annoyed me.

  My mother had always been an avid Elvis Presley fan. Since I wasn’t a boy, she couldn’t name me Elvis something I was thankful for every day. Instead, she named me Presley. Then, when my brother was born, her fixation on Elvis still going strong. Recognizing that she couldn’t have two children named Presley and Elvis, she named him Jesse, after Elvis’s twin brother who died at birth. Unfortunately, my dad started calling me King for the King of rock ’n’ roll when I was a baby. At one point, I liked the nickname, but as I got older, it got to be annoying and embarrassing. Of course, he thought it was hilarious.

  “Can we stop with the nickname?” I asked, “I am an adult and it’s not cute anymore. King sounds like the name of a German shepherd, not your daughter.” I knew I was wasting my breath with this request, and my dad didn’t even get a chance to reply because as we walked up onto the porch, my mother started in.

  “It’s about time you got here. You said you’d be here around three, and it’s going on six. We were worried sick,” she said, snapping at me, wringing the dishtowel in her hand. While I didn’t relish listening to her chastise me, it was comforting in an odd way. It made me feel I was finally home. My mother had probably cooked all day, and I was going to hear about how I had screwed up dinner, even though it would still taste perfect. Patience, I told myself. Deep breath in...relax. I tried remembering the calming things I’d learned in yoga the few times I tried it. Though when the yoga instructor said to be at peace with yourself, I had been thinking about work, food, or wine—all the things I would rather be doing. Don’t let her get to you, I said to myself. You’re an adult now.

  “What are you wearing? And what is that?” My mother gasped. I wasn’t sure what bothered her the most, my outfit or the puppy that was running into her house. I looked down at myself, almost afraid by my mother’s expression that I was naked and didn’t realize it.

  What could be wrong with this? I had on my favorite, albeit only, genuine Juicy sweat suit purchased from a thrift store. It was a perfect fit, the kind where the pants fit snugly in all the right places. I had been going to my Pilates classes religiously for the past six weeks just to be able to wear this. When I put it on this morning, I had wondered if I should wait a few more weeks but threw caution to the wind and wore it anyway. Who was going to see me on the drive to Alkon other than a bunch of truck drivers and the gas station employees where I stopped? Plus, vibrant green was one of my best colors. It brought out enough of my other great features that a little extra here and there wasn’t very noticeable. Or so I thought. As usual, my mother was adept at making me doubt myself.

  “Mother, I’m a big girl now. I didn’t realize that I needed to check in,” I said, annoyed that it took all of two minutes for her to make me feel sixteen again. “Besides, I said afternoon. Technically, wouldn’t that give me until five o’clock? So I’m just an hour late.” I didn’t say anything about my mother’s comment regarding my clothes, even though I wanted to. It wasn’t worth the argument. Maybe I was reaching a new level of maturity since I was able to let my mother’s snide comments go like that.

  “Aren’t you just happy I’m here, Mother?” I asked, giving her a peck on the cheek, trying to keep the peace. “You look great.” Dressed in what I always called the Junior League uniform: conservative tan slacks with a mauve sweater set. Complete with the pearl buttons and a strand of pearls around her neck. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she was wearing minimal makeup, just a swish of pale pink lipstick and mascara. She had amazing skin and didn’t need any more than that. She looked like she could host any kind of charity event at a moment’s notice and, on occasion, had. My mom had a knack for being able to throw things together at the last minute that turned out fabulous. I, on the other hand, often felt scattered, and half pulled together, and that was on a good day.

  “Don’t be sassy with me, young lady. You could have had the common courtesy to call and tell us. Isn’t that what your cell phone is for? You could have been lying dead in a ditch. How would we know? I hope you are hungry at least, though the food is ruined after sitting for so long. Might as well feed it to that mangy dog you dragged with you. Since when do you have a dog?”

  With that, she stomped back in the house. I looked back at my dad for help, and he just shrugged his shoulders, his eyes twinkling with laughter. He never seemed to let her criticisms bother him. He just rolled with the punches.

  “Glad you still find this so amusing, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “What can I say? It’s what I live for,” he joked back. “It wouldn’t seem the same if you two didn’t bicker all the time.”

  Even though I had been here all of five seconds, and had already been yelled at, I was excited about dinner as my mom was a great cook. She just didn’t understand that three big meals a day, fried, breaded, and always including dessert, were not good for my waistline. I never failed to gain about two pounds per day every time I visited. Don’t ask me why my parents weren’t five hundred pounds with the food my mom always fixed. I already had enough trouble fitting into my size eights. Yep, this was going to be a tough weekend in many ways.

  After settling the puppy in the laundry room where I gave her water and some hot dogs I took when my mom wasn’t looking, I sat down to a delicious pot roast, still moist, of course, and not ruined as my mother had threatened. I made a mental note to go to the neighbors after dinner to borrow some dog food until I could make it to the store tomorrow.

  “So, how long are you planning on staying?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. I have a couple things I need to do next week.” That wasn’t entirely true, but I wanted an out if my mother started driving me crazy. Then I could leave and not feel as guilty about it.

  “Is Rick going to be joining you?”

  “No, Mother, I told you last week we were still broken up.” I had recently broken up with Rick, and now I was going to have to listen to my mom go on and on about how horrible it was to be single at my age.

  “You’re not getting any younger, you know. If you had listened to me, this would never have happened. But no, you never listen to me.”

  “Mother, he cheated on me. How do you figure me not listening to you could have impacted that?”

  “I agree he’s a jerk. But, I told you when you moved in with him that you were rushing things. I guess I was right,” she said.

  “Let’s not have this conversation. Rick is history. Can we please just move on? Let’s not talk about anything negative. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

  My mother changed topics with minimal effort. She seemed to accept my request to move on, but I knew she would bring it up again later. “I ran into Brian Ames the other day. He’s such a nice boy.”

  I kept silent; eating my pot roast, mashed potatoes, and green beans, all of course, smothered with gravy. I thought that maybe if I ignored my mother, she would lose interest. Besides, dinner was so good that it commanded my full concentration. Whenever I sat down at the table, all resolve to adhere to my diet went out the window. I’d alrea
dy decided my diet wouldn’t start until I went back home. No way was I turning down any of this food. It was worth starving myself later. My God, I wished I could cook like this. Except, I would never fit my skinny jeans or my even fat jeans if I did. I’d have to start investing in elastic waist.

  “I told him you would be here this weekend,” she said, giving me a disapproving glance as I reached for seconds of the gravy. Obviously, my mother wasn’t distracted enough by what she was saying to not notice how much I was eating.

  “You did what?” I said through a mouthful of food, ignoring her look. “Why would you do that? You never even liked Brian.” Brian Ames had been my high school boyfriend. He’d been a star football player, which in high school meant that he was the coolest boy ever… Brian and I had been together off and on until after graduation. Then I realized his big plan for the future was to stay in Alkon and be a mechanic. He also thought we should get married and settle down in Alkon. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, it just wasn’t my dream, had other plans.

  He expected me to be little Susie homemaker, but Housekeeper of the Year wasn’t on my agenda. Since the age of fourteen, I had wanted to go to the big city, be independent, and have a career. Brian wanted Betty Crocker; I wanted Katherine Graham. Things weren’t pretty at the end, but what breakup was good when you were eighteen? At that age, everything seems like the most important thing ever.

  “Well, you were too young and way too serious,” my mother said. “But he’s grown up nice, and he has his own garage now, making a good living. I hear he’s the best mechanic in town. Isn’t that right, Clark?”

  My dad just looked at her and smiled, clearly amused by the situation but not willing to be drawn into our argument. I could clearly see where this was going. My mother was afraid I would end up an old maid. All the town girls my age and younger were married with babies, and I was single. To my mother that was the unthinkable. So now she was pimping me out to an ex–boyfriend she never even liked in the first place? Were all mothers like this or just mine?

  “Anyway, I...” She started to say.

  The doorbell rang, and I immediately knew what my mother had started to say. I looked at her; eyes narrowed and steam was practically coming out of my ears. I was going to kill her. I couldn’t believe this; my mother invited him over.

  “...invited him over for dessert,” she said and jumped up from the table to answer the door. She was almost at a sprint in two steps, which was impressive. Who knew she could move that fast? “I thought you two might like to catch up.”

  “How could you?” I said in a loud whisper. I looked at my dad. “How could you let her do this?” I jumped out of my seat, furious, almost willing to forgo dessert and sneak out the back door.

  My dad threw up his hands and smiled. “I had no idea, King.” Sure he was telling the truth, I still gave him a dirty look, simply for being amused at the situation. This was in no way funny.

  I followed on my mother’s heels, unable to believe she would do this to me. My mother just didn’t understand that I was fine being alone. Many women stayed single forever and were happy. I wanted to meet a good guy and have a family, but it wasn’t the only thing out there.

  I was about to yell when she hurriedly opened the door. She knew it would shut me up, at least temporarily. One of the things we had in common was our ability to put up a good front and not air dirty laundry in public. Thurman’s never let anyone see them sweat. It was one of the traits I was grateful to my mother for, and amazed at how handy this skill had been in my life.

  “Hello, Brian,” my mother gushed, instantly changing her attitude, always the hostess. No wonder people thought she was the nicest person. When I was a kid, all my friends thought she was great. “Come on in.”

  I looked up at Brian. I needed to be polite and to say hi, but I was momentarily taken aback. Brian had been cute in high school, but he had not grown into a handsome man. He was already losing his hair. It wasn’t at all what I expected. Made me wonder how he saw me.

  “Hi, Brian,” I said.

  I looked over and saw my mother was beaming as if she just discovered the Holy Grail. I resigned myself to having Brian over for dessert. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, I still had my mother’s chocolate cake to look forward to—and that made anything tolerable.