Something Molly Can't See

by Carol Maloney Scott

  Hmm…somebody probably got bored with all this self-reflection and went out to their car to grab their phone so they could watch some YouTube videos or play solitaire. These rooms don’t even have televisions!

  The light shines this way now, and I’m shocked that one of the meditators would be trying to sneak a look at a woman in her bedroom.

  I bet it’s that creepy guy who fell asleep on the floor. He was edging way too close to the college girls…ahhhhh!!!!

  Tucker busts in the door just as I let out a scream that I quickly stifle.

  The residents of Pentagon Place get an F so far on this silent retreat. Ashley will never let me hear the end of it if I embarrass her, but what I see in the parking lot can’t be ignored.

  Tucker joins me at the window, and the new intruder turns off his flashlight now that he’s up close and personal.

  Of course, my dear husband.

  ***

  “Magnolia Blossom Rizzo, what were you thinking?”

  My eldest gives me the worst stink eye I’ve seen on her since I took away her pacifier when she was two.

  “Answer your mother!”

  Ray’s voice will surely draw attention to the large group now assembled in my ‘silent’ room.

  And as if this could get any worse, I was naked when this whole circus started up. I had to go into the bathroom wearing a sheet and put on some clothes while my boyfriend, estranged husband, daughter, and assorted friends stared at each other in various stages of shock, annoyance, and disgust.

  Emma and Tucker came running down the hall when they heard the ruckus, and lucky for them they hadn’t had a chance to take off any of their clothes.

  Magnolia is sitting on the bed, where I put her—on top of the bedspread of course.

  Ray is pacing the floor and muttering to himself while talking with his hands.

  Tucker is sitting in the chair in the corner looking like he is reconsidering his life decisions, and Emma and Dawson are hanging out nervously by the door, as if they aren’t sure if they should stay or go.

  “Ray, yelling at her isn’t helping!” Ironically, I am also now yelling.

  “I just wanted to see Shawn. I knew if I came by to talk to him when none of you were around, he’d probably listen to me.”

  Now my daughter is also shrieking. This is quickly turning into the yelling retreat.

  A knock at the door makes us all jump.

  It’s probably the retreat police coming to haul our asses out of here, which is a good idea, since any calming effects from this event are surely erased by the interference of my family and friends.

  Dawson points to the door, and I nod for him to answer it.

  Shawn peeks his head in and pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. His hair is sticking up, and he’s holding earbuds and his phone.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you. All…of you.” He glances around the room and scrunches up his face.

  I don’t blame him—this is an odd party going on in here.

  “What is it, Shawn? We’re havin’ a bit of a family problem here.”

  “Oh, no worries. I was just listening to my meditation music, and I could have sworn I heard my name. At first I thought I was hallucinating but…did someone say my name?”

  Ray turns him around and escorts him back to the hallway. “No kid, you’re hearing things. It’s all this meditating. Rots your brain. Now, good night.”

  Shawn turns redder than his hair and says, “Okay, hope everything is—”

  A loud, scolding whisper interrupts him, and now we have a new ‘silent’ visitor.

  Ashley’s head whips around like the exorcist, and she says, “What is wrong with you people? What part of ‘silent’ do you not comprehend? Oh, this is nice. The whole freaking neighborhood is in Molly’s room. Including her husband and boyfriend. Oh, the kids too.”

  I have had just about enough of everyone’s crap tonight, so I march over to the door.

  Emma and Dawson sneak away, which is a good idea. Shawn scurries like a frightened mouse. He is probably mortified that his crush would find him participating in rule breaking in this sacred space.

  “Ashley, we are havin’ a family crisis here, and everyone who is not family needs to get out. I don’t care about this silent horseshit right now. I have a child who is in big trouble, and as you can see, quite the awkward situation in here, so scram.”

  Ashley shakes her head and says, “You are all insane! I thought I was moving into a quiet complex with quaint country folk, but this is like the Jerry Springer Show, a soap opera and a reality show all rolled into one giant cluster fuck!”

  She storms off as Tucker finally gets up and puts his hands on my shoulders.

  “Okay, we need to leave. All of us.” Tucker looks at Ray and he nods his head.

  “Yes, I agree completely. Molly and I need to talk to our daughter about what she did tonight. Getting in an Uber to come here was absolutely ridiculous. I had to leave Zinnia with the Washingtons. Thank God Beth works crazy hours at the hospital and was still up.”

  I’m glad Zinnia isn’t home alone, and I know Ray is right. We do need to talk to Magnolia privately, and I’m hoping that Tucker understands that because my patience is shot.

  In addition to grounding her and threatening to move if she doesn’t stop with this Shawn obsession, I need to explain myself.

  I was so worried about the girls knowing about me and Tucker sleeping together, and now here we are sitting in the room where it all went down. Up…you know what I mean.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Last week went by in a blur. It felt like I had so much work to catch up on everywhere.

  Fortunately, Tucker was understanding about Magnolia, and honestly it gave me an opening to talk to both of the girls privately (no Ray!) about my relationship with Tucker and get it out in the open.

  Zinnia seemed to understand. She said it was cool and lots of her friends’ moms have boyfriends who come over and it’s no ‘biggee’.

  Of course, I explained how we are adults and that’s why it’s okay and we love each other—I guess I should clue Tucker in on that one.

  However, I’m not sure I feel that way—but I couldn’t tell my twelve-year-old that it’s also okay if your husband runs away, and you haven’t had sex in a year, and the guy is really hot.

  That’s not fair, either. I feel very affectionate and warm towards Tucker, but I am just not ready to make any big declarations to him. Not while Ray and I are still legally married—a fact that Magnolia spewed at me.

  She was obviously pissed about her punishment and being humiliated in front of half the neighborhood when she thought she was going to confront Shawn privately.

  I am so grateful Ray chased after her because Shawn would have been put in a terrible position had she made it to his room.

  Magnolia challenged how I could be in love with another man when I’ve been crying over Dad being gone for so long.

  I tried to reason with her, but the conversation ended with her stomping up the stairs and declaring that if I don’t respect the sanctity of marriage, that she’s getting divorced when she gets married, too—unless she marries Shawn.

  Zinnia rolled her eyes hard and I almost started laughing.

  Her sister followed her retreating form up the stairs, and looked at me and said, “Kids these days, right Mom?”

  I hugged her and asked her to please continue to be smart and not lose her mind over men like the rest of us.

  Now I’m home on a Saturday afternoon. Zinnia is at a friend’s house, and Mags is in her room. It’s my turn to act as warden. Ray said he had some business to attend to so he’s not around.

  I know he was dying for me to ask what kind of business, but I don’t care what he does.

  Tucker said he had some work to catch up on at the shop, but he’s coming over for supper tonight. If Magnolia refuses to come to the table, I will treat her like an actual prisoner and leave her food on a tray outside her door. I need to be tou
gher with her.

  Although Mama was tough as nails and I was pregnant at nineteen.

  We told Magnolia if she behaves herself, and stops being so stubborn about trying to force a relationship that would actually result in her beloved going to jail, that she will be able to attend the St. Patrick’s Day party and Tucker’s birthday party, which is at the end of March.

  Since Shawn is planning the St. Patrick’s Day party and I am throwing the party for Tucker (with Emma and Dawson), there are many ways all of this could go south if my volatile daughter can’t keep herself under control.

  I was doubting the sanity of this trip to Philadelphia to check out the camp, but Ray and I decided that sending her away for education was a good idea and getting her away from Applebarrow might be the best thing for her.

  I wanted to ask him if getting away had been good for him, but I am trying to get along with Ray. He was always a good father, and I do believe he had emotional problems he couldn’t handle at the time.

  Tucker doesn’t buy it—he said any chicken shit could send a text—he said even he was able to do that when he wanted to profess his feelings but couldn’t get his head out of his ass.

  He claims that Ray’s head is so far up there that an alien couldn’t find it with an anal probe.

  We laughed at that, and I let it go. Tucker’s had an easy life, and he can’t relate to becoming unemployed and having a family to support.

  Either way, I made an appointment with the attorney to start the divorce proceedings. We need to get a legal custody agreement in place and all the other paperwork.

  I would also like to address the child support issue. I have wanted to bring it up, but outside of a legal agreement, Ray is just going to use the money as a bribe to control me, and I want it to be all about the girls. Not Ray trying to sweet talk me with his money.

  I am on my bed staring at the ceiling, and I see dust bunnies on my headboard. I have been neglecting this house. So far, this year is the year of stress. And I thought last year was the winner with Ray running off.

  The bed feels good, but I’ve never been one to nap. I feel so restless, and I spot Meemaw’s box, still in the corner.

  Hey, I just had an idea.

  Maybe Meemaw was rebellious like Magnolia and her mother sent her away to get her to cool it with Albert. Fred did say Albert was very old—maybe he was also an older guy and it was inappropriate for Meemaw to date him. I never met my great-grandparents, but I can’t imagine they would have been the liberal type.

  There are definitely clues in this box and since I am not feeling like doing any house cleaning, I dig in and pull out another handful of dusty old correspondence.

  A lot of these letters are from Peepaw, and I am not going to read those. There’s no mystery there, and I don’t care if my grandparents were fooling around before marriage.

  This situation with Maine and Albert is just weird, and I am trusting my intuition that there is more to it. Also, Meemaw doesn’t like me going through her stuff, so there has to be a reason.

  Fortunately, she’s too lazy to take any more classes at Haunting School, so she can’t throw these letters in the trash while I’m at work.

  I sift through the pile until I find another one that looks like it’s from Albert, sent to the same Maine address.

  Dearest Florence,

  I appreciate your last letter. I wish I could have been there, and I know it was hard for you to send. You did me a great kindness letting me know all is well.

  I know by now there is probably no chance of us all being together, but if there is, please reconsider, Florence. You don’t have to come back to Applebarrow and deal with your Mama and Daddy, and all the nosy neighbors. I could come up there and take care of my girls. I’m sure things are much more liberal up there in the north, and we could all live the way we want.

  No matter what you decide, I’ll love you forever. If you come back home alone, I will leave you alone, if that’s what you want. You have my word.

  Your love,

  Albert

  I can tell that Albert was purposely vague in these letters, in case Meemaw’s parents or someone else got a hold of them.

  What girls is he talking about? I highly doubt my grandmother was a lesbian. She seemed pretty into Peepaw, even now that they’re dead.

  And I don’t know if anyone referred to boobs as ‘the girls’ in the fifties. And what kind of a freak would make that reference in a love letter?

  But the way Albert wrote this it sounds like Meemaw ran off with a woman and Albert wants to take care of both of them. Was Meemaw involved in some ménage-a-trois situation?

  That’s even more ridiculous, but I have learned that people are not always what they seem. I only knew Meemaw as my sweet old, plump, chicken eating grandmother.

  Hell, my girls seemed shocked that I had the needs of a normal woman at my age.

  But still…that doesn’t make sense. They must have been up to something shady if Meemaw had to leave town and Albert…uh oh, I need to do the math.

  Uh oh, she could have been pregnant.

  I count on my fingers and…no, Mama has to be Peepaw’s daughter. She’s not old enough to have been born when Meemaw was that young.

  Unless…come to think of it, I have never seen Mama’s birth certificate and she is always funny about discussing her age. And she surely doesn’t look young for her mid-fifties.

  The more I dig into this box, the more confused I get.

  “That’s because you should be cleanin’ your house like a proper mother and not snoopin’ around in my affairs.”

  Meemaw is actually standing this time. Well, more like floating, but her arms are folded across her ample bosom and she’s not eating.

  She must be really pissed.

  “Meemaw, can we please talk? And before you say it, I know you can’t tell me things I don’t know, even though that’s the dumbest rule and I’m not sure I believe you. But you must be able to tell me about you. Is my mama Albert’s daughter?”

  “Molly Mae, I can tell you about ME, but I can’t interfere with the living, and other people, including your mama…and well, others…are still living. So, this is a case closed situation, like Judge Judy would say on the television. Now, I am here to ask you one more time not to go on that trip with Ray.”

  I sigh and place the letter on top of my sleuthing pile and fold my hands on my lap. “I appreciate your concern, but Ray is not taking me to Philadelphia to murder me, and I can handle myself with him.”

  She scrunches up her lips and makes that noise that says she thinks I’m full of crap. “Pshhh…you have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. I know things.”

  “Well super, but you can’t tell me what they are. How about this, if Ray puts the moves on me you can appear and knock over a lamp or something. You have a week to learn how to do that. Should be enough, right?”

  She stomps her ghost foot but since it’s not on the floor it just looks like she’s doing some kind of Riverdance move.

  “Mom, who are you talking to?”

  Now Magnolia is standing at my door, probably wondering if Tucker climbed in the window for a quickie before supper, or I have yet another man in my stable of studs.

  I glare at Meemaw and say, “Come in, honey.”

  As the door opens, I scramble for my ear buds and phone.

  “Hi sweetie, I was just listening to one of those meditations. You know…since I had to leave the retreat…so what’s up?”

  “You were talking. Meditation is quiet. No wonder you got thrown out.”

  “I would take that sassy girl over my knee.”

  Meemaw is not helping and I glare at her and wave my hand in the air. Oops.

  “Mom what are you doing?”

  “Oh, I was just swatting at the bug in the room. I was talking to it before, tellin’ it to leave. I just saw it again. I think it was a wasp. You know how I hate those, and your father always had to kill them?”

  “Uh huh…M
om, it’s February. Wasps hibernate in winter.”

  I swear…she picks now to remember something she learned in school.

  “Well, maybe it was a different kind of bug, but anyway, why don’t we go downstairs and start supper.”

  I am hoping Meemaw understands that’s my signal for her to skedaddle. I know she can’t take the letters, and I’m not going to get this story out of her anyhow.

  As she said, there are enough living people involved for me to ask, and one of them is going to eventually spill the beans about Meemaw’s secret life, and my possible new grandpa.

  ***

  “This is nice.”

  I snuggle into Tucker’s chest and sigh.

  “Yeah, I’m glad we figured this out.”

  He squeezes me tight and I have to say I haven’t felt this blissful in a long time.

  Magnolia has been a little less obnoxious, and Ray has insisted that the girls spend half the week with him. That couldn’t be easier since he lives across the courtyard. I am beginning to think having him so close by could turn out to be a blessing.

  Tucker hasn’t said anything more about the Philadelphia trip, and the girls are going to stay with Sassy. We told them we have to go on a business trip for Molly’s Dollies. Amazingly, they seemed to accept that very vague story.

  Just to be on the safe side, I told them that other employees from the company were coming, too—just not Lia or Shawn, since they see them all the time.

  I also talked to Ray about how we need to do something for Zinnia, and he said that the school that runs the fashion design camp also has social media camps, which Zinnia would love.

  Satisfied that all is now stable with my personal life, my thoughts have returned to Meemaw and Albert.

  I feel Tucker drifting off to sleep and I whisper, “Hey, are you up?”

  He breathes deeply and slurs his speech. “Yeah, did you say somethin’? I drifted off.”

  I am always amazed at how quickly men can fall asleep.

  “I found out more scoop on Meemaw’s past, and now I’m thinkin’ my mother may not have been Peepaw’s daughter.”

  He rolls over to face me and says, “Molly, are you sure you wanna keep diggin’ in this dirt? Your grandfolks are gone. Does it really matter?”