Something Molly Can't See

by Carol Maloney Scott

  I stand and slowly walk the few steps to the door and shut it very quietly, with my phone to my ear.

  I’m so confused, but so far, I have learned that the afterlife is a guilt-free chow fest and being dead improves your sex life.

  This is hardly useful information, but while she’s here (or I think she’s here—I still haven’t ruled out being drugged, or mental collapse, as the reason for these visits), I think I’ll ask her about Albert.

  “Okay, I think it’s safe to put my phone down now. If anyone walks by, they’ll just think I’m talking to someone on speaker phone.”

  “Oh, is that what all the young people are doin’ walking around talkin’ to themselves.”

  She laughs and chokes on a mouthful of food. I almost jump up to smack her on the back, but I don’t think you can choke to death when you’re already dead.

  She puts her bowl down on the sofa and it disappears.

  Huh, that’s another thing to ask about. I hope she stays awhile, I’ve got quite a list, but I did want to stop and see Tucker before my shift.

  “Oh Lordy, that’s just too funny. I saw all these people lookin’ like they were yackin’ away to the air around them and I told Peepaw he should be glad he died before the whole world gone as crazy as an outhouse rat.”

  I’ve forgotten some of these sayings, but I must say they are comforting in an odd sort of way.

  “Meemaw, I’d like to ask you about something. Well, actually lots of things. But I don’t have time for all of them now.”

  “I’m sure you don’t—you’re runnin’ around like a moth in a mitten. Okay girl, I know you wanna go see your man. I get it because—”

  “I know, Peepaw’s waiting for you. So anyway, I hope you won’t be mad, but I’ve been reading some of your old letters. I didn’t think I’d see you again…”

  Meemaw raises her eyebrows and now she thinks I’m saying I’ve become an atheist and I don’t believe in the afterlife. I’m not sure if she can spank me in this form, but I’m not taking any chances.

  “I mean, I know I would see you again, when I got to my own reward…”

  Now I sound like Mama. “…but I just thought it would be interesting to learn more about you.”

  “Uh huh, and what did you learn?”

  “Well, I was wondering about Albert and Maine?” I bite my lip and wince as I see smoke come out of her ears.

  Seriously, I really think there is smoke coming out of her ears. I’m new at this ghost thing, but this seems to be a feature. Hopefully, the old saying ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire’ doesn’t apply here.

  “Molly Mae, I understand that you don’t know how things work, and unfortunately I was too old and fat to get up to the attic to destroy my personal belongings, but I do not plan on givin’ you the nickel tour of my life. It’s best to leave things in the past. I’m here to help you.”

  Okay, maybe I better lay off this line of questioning. Crap, she can hear my thoughts. I hope that’s not all the time.

  “It is, except when you’re thinkin’ about your intimate relations, and you know why that is? Because I am not a little miss nosy pants. Now, since we both have places to be, let’s talk about Ray. Why did you agree to go with him to look at that dress makin’ camp for my sweet Magnolia?”

  “Because we are her parents and we have to co-parent now that we’re div…separated.”

  “Exactly, you can’t even say the word. Now, I normally don’t condone breakin’ up what the Lord joined together, but Ray is a special exception bein’ that he shares some of the same serpent-like qualities as the devil himself.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting. Yes, he did a bad thing but aren’t there people in heaven who made mistakes?”

  “I can’t tell you about the afterlife. I’m not allowed. Only about the food because you can see that. I don’t wanna go to Haunting Jail. I’ve heard there’s no good food there, and for all I know, I could be nibblin’ on a carrot like a durn bunny for all eternity because you can’t stop askin’ me silly questions.”

  I wish she would conjure up a pie, or maybe a shot of whiskey as a distraction.

  “I heard that! Now sugar, I don’t want to get cross with you, I’m here to help. I can’t tell you what he’s up to, but I can tell you to open your eyeballs up and realize that you have to be careful of anything Ray asks of ya. Okay? Now I have to go back, and you should go on and give that cute boy some sugar. I did always love the Swanson boys and their mama is a fine woman. You should look to her as an example. She raised those boys alone and didn’t take their…hold on…I’m comin’ Horace…”

  She giggles while shaking a warning finger at me, and she’s gone in a poof of…feathers. I didn’t notice that last time. And now before I can grab one of them, they’re gone too.

  What the hell? Oh, I guess they are the feathers of the chickens she’s eaten? Hmm…I hope the chickens aren’t in heaven with her—they might be mad that she’s eating…

  Someone is going mad all right, and sadly I think it’s me.

  ***

  “So how many times have you brought a woman here after hours for some action inside one of the cars you’re working on?”

  I playfully tug on Tucker’s Swanson Brothers Auto Repair work shirt, while his brother Dawson and a few employees pretend not to be watching us from the garage.

  I don’t know why they thought a glass enclosed office was a good idea, but I suppose they were thinking more about business than pleasure when they designed their workspace.

  “I can’t believe a nice girl like you would even think about such a thing.” He kisses me with one eye on our audience. “Actually, it’s not a bad idea. There’s an old car I’m restoring...ow, okay sorry.”

  I smack him on the chest so lightly there’s no way it felt like any more than a bug hittin’ his rock hard…oh my…maybe the old car is a good idea.

  No, I have to get to work and that wouldn’t be a good business practice.

  “As much as I would love that, I’ve gotta get to the diner.”

  He walks me back out to my car and I’m feeling much better after some restorative smooching. We still haven’t figured out the best way to spend time together without the girls catching on, and I’m getting tired of that. Tucker hasn’t said a word, but I know it’s on his mind.

  He rests against my car and I lean into his body one more time. I can’t believe I ever thought this was a bad idea.

  “What’s on your mind, Molly Mae? You look very serious.”

  “I was just thinkin’ that it’s time I tell the girls about us. Ray already knows…”

  I feel Tucker’s embrace stiffen a bit and I pull back.

  “…not that I care what he thinks, but I’m just sayin’ that a bunch of people know now, and I would rather the girls hear it from me, and not some random person who slips up in front of them. And the Mardi Gras party is coming up soon, and I want to be your proper date.”

  “Are you sure? I guess I have to leave these decisions to you—I don’t know what’s best for kids. Although, I’d like to someday.”

  Crap, I never thought about the fact that Tucker has no children and may want some of his own.

  Tick, tock biological clock!

  But I am not bringing that up now. He may have loved me all his life, but he’s still a man having fun in a new relationship.

  “I am not goin’ to ask their permission to live my life. I adore my daughters and I’d jump in front of a train for them, but I am not going to pretend I’m a nun because their father left me.”

  Crap, I keep referring to Ray.

  Tucker kisses my nose and says, “Okay, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  He kisses me again and tips his hat, and as I hear him scolding the guys for spying on our PDA, I think about Ray again.

  I have to do a lot more than tell my kids about Tucker. I need to permanently sever my bond with their father, too.

  Of course, none
of that is as daunting as telling Mama my still-married ass is dating Tucker Swanson.

  And all my other body parts.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Mom, your dress for the party is so cute! I’m so excited we get to go!”

  My youngest little spitfire runs out of the room, swirling her own Mardi Gras themed skirt.

  When I told the girls they could come to the normally ‘adults-only’ Mardi Gras party at the clubhouse in our apartment complex, they were so excited that they insisted we all go shopping and get outfits in the traditional Mardi Gras colors—purple, green and gold—right down to our shoes. Mine are purple, Zinnia’s are gold, and Magnolia’s are green.

  I wanted to ask my eldest if she picked the green ones because she’s still trying to show Shawn that she’s the one to help him with the St. Patrick’s Day party (yes, we have a party for everything).

  But I bit my tongue because after I shared my news with my daughters, I was inclined to give them a wider berth.

  Not that I would allow Mags to have anything to do with a man Shawn’s age, but I’m laying off chastising her about her flirting.

  Shawn is oblivious and Tucker said he would…well let’s just say I’m not worried about Shawn because he’s not a pedophile and I also think he wants to live.

  I attach my dangly gold earrings and turn my head side to side to make sure my makeup looks even, and I didn’t get too heavy handed.

  I am also letting the girls wear more makeup than usual tonight. Mags went all out, and I allowed Zinnia to wear mascara and a colored lip gloss.

  They grow up so fast.

  And I know I should not be allowing them to do special things just because I told them their mom is dating the cute neighbor, even though their dad, her husband, is back in town.

  It is next to impossible to be real with the girls about all of this without bad mouthing Ray. I know it’s not going to help anything to explain how I deserve to find someone else after being abandoned, but I’m also worried about what it’s teaching them about marriage vows.

  Or is it me who is feeling guilty about my marriage vows?

  I sigh and grab my beaded evening purse and my fun Mardi Gras mask. The girls were super into that holiday-themed accessory, once they realized it was a ‘thing’.

  I have a feeling most of this night is going to end up on Zinnia’s YouTube channel.

  And yes, I monitor what she posts. I’m not that bad of a mother.

  Although, if you asked MY mother, she would tell you I was Jezebel and Satan’s bride all wrapped into one.

  Yes, I told Mama about me and Tucker, too. Right after I told her Ray was back.

  I figured if I got it all over in one swoop, I could take all my torture in one sitting, and have the county paramedics on standby only once, so as to avoid wasting taxpayers’ money with multiple visits for Mama’s heart.

  Needless to say, she went from over the moon happy that Ray was back, to angry and judgmental about my relationship with Tucker.

  Here are some highlights of the conversation:

  “Are you tellin’ me that you have committed adultery with that Swanson boy? Lordy, where’s my smellin’ salts?”

  “Are you tryin’ to give me heart failure? You know my dear mama died from that? I could be one more piece of trashy news away from joinin’ her.”

  “I taught you better than to drop your drawers for the first good lookin’ man...”

  “Ray is your husband in the eyes of the Lord and this family, and if you aren’t goin’ to take him back then you need to march down to the church and ask forgiveness!”

  Yeah, it was a good time.

  I finally got her to calm down when Daddy intervened and told her to go lie down and he’d be in soon to rub her back.

  He privately told me that Ray was a no-good, lyin’ sack of horse dookie, and while he’s not so sure about Tucker, he doesn’t want to see me take that ‘Eyetalian’ snake in the grass back.

  So, he was supportive but also racist. That’s the best I can do with my family.

  My brothers must have said some version of ‘holy shit’ a hundred times when I updated them on the situation.

  They never liked Ray (I am starting to wonder why no one liked Ray—he only screwed up last year), and they seem to be warming to the idea of me and their childhood playground buddy ‘gettin’ it on’.

  Their words, not mine.

  All in all, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks.

  Things with Tucker have been great, but I know he’s not happy with Ray living in our neighborhood and watching our every move.

  And our lack of privacy is becoming an issue. Just because I told the girls about us does not mean I intend to have Tucker sitting at the breakfast table in the morning with no shirt, a stubbly face, and that ‘just had sex all night’ look.

  Not that I wouldn’t love that myself, but I can’t let the girls see their mama living so loose at such an impressionable age. I already feel like I’m losing control of them and this whole situation.

  I call out to the girls to see if they’re ready. I hope I’m not making a mistake bringing them to an adult party, but when I asked our new apartment manager, Ashley, if it was okay, she said, ‘Sure, they’re your kids, and it’s not like anyone’s going to flash their boobs at Mardi Gras in this town’.

  She’s got a point, but we did invite my good friend, Sassy. For a middle-aged socialite she can get kind of wild.

  I laugh thinking of the hissy fit Olivia would throw if someone flashed a boob, but then actually Olivia has been a little less bitchy and judgmental since she befriended Ashley. I mean, I don’t care either way. Neither of them is my type of friend material.

  I smile thinking about seeing all of our friends together—so much has happened since the last resident event, which was the New Year’s Eve party.

  That was when Tucker asked me to dance, and I could tell by the way he held me that my whole world was about to change.

  Of course, I wasn’t counting on Ray trying to pull me back to the old one he abandoned.

  Magnolia whines, “Mom, let’s go. I just saw…everyone walking across the lawn to the clubhouse.”

  Yeah, I bet she saw everyone. Probably just that goofy Shawn. I wish Ashley would return his interest, so Magnolia could see that it’s foolish of her to pine over a grown man.

  It will cause heartache but she better get used to it if she wants to continue to engage in relationships with the opposite sex. I don’t know too many people who haven’t had a rocky road of it.

  I follow the girls downstairs and grab my food contribution off the kitchen counter.

  Arielle and Marcos, the very young married couple who live next door, planned this party. I was a bit worried about the musical selections—they are heavy metal fans and the last party they hosted here was an outdoor picnic, and Lia made them mix up the music to please everyone.

  Ashley doesn’t give a rat’s ass, and Lia won’t say anything tonight because she won’t want to step on Ashley’s toes.

  But I’m not too worried. The young party planners have been acting a bit more mature lately and they seemed very excited to host this party. And I’m all for variety, but I just don’t want to be trapped in the clubhouse listening to some guy screaming like he’s being stabbed, while running from an oncoming train.

  They went with a full Mardi Gras theme for tonight, complete with a huge King Cake with the baby inside, and they asked us to bring Mardi Gras inspired food.

  I love to cook so I jumped right into my recipe archives and found a delicious looking Hot Shrimp Jambalaya dip. It’s full of cheese and spices and…shoot…I just remembered it’s one of Ray’s favorite dishes. I hope he doesn’t think I made it for him.

  Yes, Ray is coming to the party. How could I keep him away?

  And I can’t keep complaining about it because Lia is still feeling guilty for letting him move in here without knowing who he was.

  I told her I don’t think she could
have refused him anyway, with the Fair Housing Act and all. But at least I would’ve had more warning, and I wouldn’t have broken my favorite serving bowl and my wine glasses when I dropped that tray in pure shock.

  Luckily for the girls, we’re having this party on Saturday night, since actual Mardi Gras isn’t until this Tuesday.

  I would not allow them to attend this party on a school night, but we usually try to have the big holiday celebrations on the weekends so everyone can enjoy without feeling like they need to get home to bed.

  Although I wouldn’t mind that outcome sooner rather than later when I see Tucker waiting for us outside my door. This is only the second time I think I’ve seen him dressed like this. He’s wearing a suit that cuts his strong, lean frame perfectly with a fun purple, green and gold tie.

  “Cool tie, Tucker.”

  “Thanks Zin. Nice lip gloss and look at those eyelashes. Did you take an eyelash growin’ pill last night?”

  He winks at me while teasing my youngest, who is now blushing over the flattery and explaining her makeup routine.

  She’s so much more forgiving than Magnolia. She’s always liked Tucker, but I can tell by the frosty expression that it’s the presence of the perceived interloper in her parents’ marriage that’s making her so cold—not the weather.

  She barely acknowledges Tucker and runs across the lawn to greet Ray, who is wearing his usual pinstripe Jersey mobster suit that he’s always favored. This only contributes to my daddy’s ‘Eyetalian’ comments.

  But I used to think it was so hot, and I loved his big beefy hands, his hairy chest, and the way he had such an appetite for pasta and for…

  Ugh…why am I thinking about Ray this way when I am standing next to the hottest guy here?

  Okay, Logan and Lia are probably in the clubhouse, and he’s pretty hot, too. And Dawson is pretty cute, and…well. Tucker is the hottest available man, anyway.