Love Over Moon Street

by Saxon Bennett

  “You haven’t gone crazy, right?” Adele said. She stared hard at Sparky.

  “She’s the sanest person I know,” Pen said.

  “Now how do you fit into all this?” Frank asked Pen.

  “My mother had a bad accident with a bathtub and I’m living with Cheryl and Lexus downstairs.”

  “Is your mother in the hospital?” Adele asked.

  “No, she’s in an urn in the breakfast nook. Well, actually, we don’t know where she is, but we pretend she’s in the urn. It’s full of baking soda so it’s doubling as a canister.”

  “I see. Sparky, can I have a word with you out in the hall?” Adele said.

  “You can use the kitchen. It’s more private,” Vibro said.

  They went in the kitchen. There were several boxes full of broken crockery. Vibro had neatly labeled them. There was a box of cutlery, but all the pieces were bent in half. Adele stared into the boxes.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Adele said. She put her hands on Sparky’s shoulders and peered into her eyes. Sparky hoped the Athabaskan woman hadn’t endowed her mother with special powers.

  “I’m fine. Don’t I look fine? What do you think is wrong?”

  “Well, there’s the cut-up furniture, the child whose mother lives in a canister and this business with Wesson for starters. I’m worried that if we stay longer there might be more.”

  “Perhaps you should go,” Sparky suggested.

  “I’m concerned about you. You were always such a normal child and you were predictable. I used to try and find things to worry about, but let me tell you, it was difficult. Now all this.” She waved her arms around. “It’s so…I don’t know, out of character for you.”

  Sparky could tell Adele was getting wound up.

  “I mean, it’s just so hard. We go away and everything changes—you, the yard, my things,” Adele said, pulling out a small packet of tissue. “I thought I could handle the changes, that they’d be good for me, but now, well, I just don’t know.” She dabbed at her eyes. “It’s all too much.” She cried in earnest.

  Sparky held her and patted her back. “Change really can be a good thing. All your stuff found good homes and that was what you wanted. I’m surrounded by friends and Wesson will move on with her life. You just showed up in the middle of the second act. I know that can be a little discombobulating.”

  Adele wept. Sparky patted. “It’s more than discombobulating. I don’t understand it. The world is what it is and then it isn’t. Runs Without Scissors said there was a plan and that we all find our plan eventually.” She pulled back from Sparky and pulled out another tissue. She heartily blew her nose.

  Adele had gone through stage one and two—confusion and grief. Now she was going to get angry. Adele was being her usual self. Sparky was relieved. This Adele she could handle.

  “Well, she never said anything about the topsy-turvy aspect. Let me tell you that wasn’t in the memo.” She took several deep breaths. “Although…”—Adele seemed to reconsider her tirade against her new spiritual mentor—“she did mention something about destruction and creation. All this could fall under that category.”

  “Exactly,” Sparky said.

  “I think it’s the stuff that was hindering me. I mean, what was going to happen to all the things that needed good homes? I was always afraid it would end up in the trash and that was wasteful—when there were people out there who could use it.”

  “We used it,” Pen said. “I wasn’t spying. Frank wants to know if you have oil.”

  “Used what, darling?” Adele asked.

  “Oil for what?” Sparky asked.

  Pen looked at one then the other. She said, “Stuff that people gave away and oil for the chain saw.”

  The kid was good. She’d already mastered McAlester-ese, the predilection for having a minimum of two to three conversations at the same time. Sparky was impressed. Wesson hadn’t mastered it in nine years. She thought Sparky’s parents were nutballs.

  Pen seemed to sense Adele wanted to know more. She was right.

  “Now why is that?” Adele asked.

  “When we did have a place, we’d go to Goodwill and get stuff. It was cheap. When we had to move we couldn’t take it with so we left it for the next person. My mom said it was better that way. I kept a few things. Wanna see?”

  There wasn’t a choice. Pen zipped out into the living room and returned with her backpack. She plopped it down on the floor and began pulling stuff out. She had a coat despite the warm weather, two pairs of socks, three T-shirts, a battered copy of the ACT test study book, and two pink porcelain squirrel salt and pepper shakers. These were what she wanted to show them.

  “I took these wherever we lived. I’d set them out on the table and it made the new place seem better.” Then she pulled out two coffee mugs that said “World’s Best Mom” and “World’s Best Daughter.” “And these were for our morning coffee.” She rummaged around some more.

  Sparky was amazed at how much stuff the backpack contained. “Isn’t all that stuff heavy?” She looked over at her mother, who was dabbing away tears.

  “Not really,” Pen responded. “And for the living room,” she said, spreading out an olive-drab silk scarf, “we’d put this on the coffee table, if we had one, and light our candle.” She put a red votive candle on it. “We knew the place was home then.”

  Adele burst into tears. Pen looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s just having a bad day. Your stuff is great, but maybe we should put it away because it’s making her sad,” Sparky said. She didn’t want Adele to go into full-on wailing mode.

  “I can give her something. Does she want the salt and pepper shakers? They always made me smile.”

  Adele stopped crying. “Oh, sweetie, that is so nice, but I want you to keep them. They are real pretty, though.”

  Pen beamed at this. She put her stuff away. Adele got a grip on herself.

  “Pen, will you tell Frank that I’ll be right there?” Sparky said.

  “Sure,” Pen said and loaded her treasures on her back.

  Her exit facilitated a full blow-out. Adele wept copiously and kept uttering platitudes about how sweet Pen was and how sad it was that she had to relocate so often. Sparky didn’t apprise her of the state of Pen’s homelessness. “It’s fine, Mom. She has a nice home now.”

  “But why does she haul all that stuff around?” Adele asked when she’d stopped crying.

  Good question, Sparky thought. “Well, maybe it makes her feel safe knowing that it’s near and when she gets more settled she won’t need to haul it around anymore.”

  When they returned to the living room, Frank and Vibro had taken Jennifer’s half of the love seat out to the curb. Vibro was now sitting on her half, legs crossed and appearing nonplussed at the destruction of her furniture.

  “What’s with those fur people walking around out there?” Frank said.

  “I don’t know,” Sparky said. “I think they’re on their way to have coffee.”

  “Well, one of them just walked into a pole,” Frank said.

  Sparky shrugged. “They do that a lot.”

  “Why didn’t you just give her one of the two end tables? Isn’t that still half?” Pen asked.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Math was never my strong suit,” Vibro said.

  “It’s a point you’re making,” Adele said, patting Vibro’s arm. “Cheaters never prosper.”

  “That’s right. You want to stay for the couch cutting?” Vibro asked.

  Adele appeared to think about it.

  “C’mon, honey, when will you ever get to see a couch cutting?” Frank said.

  “You’re right. Runs Without Scissors said it’s important to experience new things.”

  “She sounds interesting. Did she tell you all the words for snow?” Pen asked.

  “No, but she makes a real mean lichen stew,” Frank said.

  “Speaking of which, I’ve got pizza rolls. Shall I make up so
me snacks before the couch cutting?” Vibro said. She leapt up from the love seat and clapped her hands.

  “I’ll help,” Adele said. “Do you have any cream cheese and crackers?”

  “I do. I view them as a staple,” Vibro said. “We’ll be right back with drinks and snacks.”

  “You’re gonna want to do the entertainment center as well as the couch?” Frank said.

  “Absolutely, there’s no sense going halfway when you’re making a statement,” Vibro said. “And besides from an interior design point of view, it won’t work having one whole thing in a room of halves.”

  Sparky wondered if this meant that Vibro did not intend to buy new furniture. She watched as Adele and Vibro made for the kitchen. She liked that Vibro and her mother had hit it off. Wesson and Adele had never hit it off. In fifteen minutes Vibro was as good as family.

  “Do you think Vibro would mind if I cut the entertainment center in half while we waited on the snacks?” Frank asked. He had a gleam in his eye as he surveyed it.

  “I’ll go ask,” Sparky said.

  Frank gave Pen a poke in the arm. “What ya say we go check it out and discuss the best way to approach the job. You know when I was still working as an electrician…”

  Sparky didn’t hear the rest of the story as she had her head in the kitchen. “Vibro, my dad wants to know if he could cut the entertainment center. He’s keen on it, but if you want to do it yourself, he’ll understand.”

  Vibro was placing pimento-stuffed green olives in the center of Ritz crackers that were covered with cream cheese. Adele was the cream cheese spreader. “Tell him be my guest. I did the coffee table and I’m more than glad to spread my joie de vivre around.”

  “Joie de vivre?” Where’d that come from? Sparky wondered if Adele had been filling Vibro’s mind with New Age wonder juju. Since it wasn’t likely the lichen-stew-eating Alaskan was from France or a nearer cousin, Quebec, Sparky deduced it was Vibro’s personal juju.

  Sparky told Frank it was all right. They eased the entertainment center down on the tarp. “Which way do you think is more fair—top to bottom or side to side?” he said, as he oiled the chain.

  “Well, in keeping with the ethos of the project, I’d say top to bottom. Side to side still renders it somewhat useful and that’s not the aim here. I hope Vibro will get a good lawyer if this goes to court,” Sparky said. She bit her lip.

  “Naw, half is half, no matter what a lawyer says,” Frank said. “Ya gotta be specific. Was the notice specific? I bet not. It said half. This is half.” He started the chain saw and made quick work of the entertainment center. Sawdust and wood chips flew around the room. The noise rattled the paintings on the wall. There was a lot of cutting involved. The entertainment center was solid wood and Sparky was glad that her father was doing it. He’d cut down a lot of trees on his grandfather’s farm in his youth. He had the skills for such an endeavor. He smiled big as he hit the kill switch on the chain saw. He slid the safety goggles up on his forehead. “Now, that was fun,” he said.

  “You did a great job, Mr. McAlester,” Vibro said, carrying in the cracker plate. Adele followed with cans of Coke.

  “Please call me Frank. I think the personal nature of cutting up your entertainment center makes us friends.”

  “Okay, Frank,” Vibro said.

  “Are you going to do the dining room table?” Sparky inquired.

  “It wasn’t specified in the letter of instruction which stated the ‘living room’ furniture.” Vibro said “letter of instruction” in a snide tone. “So I’m keeping it whole until further notified, but you’ll be the first I call if I need it chopped up.”

  “I’d be honored,” Frank said and bowed. He took a soda and two crackers.

  Pen had a cracker. “These are good,” she said. She took another.

  They ate crackers and had their drinks while sitting on the couch. Sparky sat on one half of the entertainment center and Vibro sat on her half of the love seat.

  “Well, that hits the spot,” Frank said, rubbing his belly.

  Sparky finished off her soda and then collected the refuse and plates. Vibro smiled at her appreciatively. “Thank you. I don’t usually get help,” she said.

  “You do now,” Sparky replied.

  Vibro rubbed her hands together. “Now for the grand finale, the show you’ve all been waiting for—drum roll please—the couch cutting.”

  “This is kind of exciting,” Adele said, putting her hand on Pen’s shoulder as it was most convenient. Her mother smiled fondly at Pen and Sparky thought it was nice.

  They’d pulled the cushions off the couch and Sparky had taken a piece of chalk and made a cutting line. The couch didn’t have any springs or other metal parts where Vibro was going to cut so she felt confident there wouldn’t be any snafus or limb losses.

  “Are you ready? Remember just follow the line,” Sparky said.

  Vibro put on the safety goggles and took a deep breath. “I think I might need to say a few words first.”

  “Words?” Sparky asked.

  “To the couch,” Vibro replied.

  “Like a eulogy?” Adele inquired.

  “Yes,” Vibro said.

  “Everyone gather around and we’ll do the goodbye circle. I learned this from Runs Without Scissors,” Adele said. “We need to hold hands.”

  They complied. “All right, Vibro, now put your goodbye song out into the universe,” Adele instructed.

  “Couch, I just want you to know that you’ve been a fine piece of furniture and I had many fond moments sitting comfortably upon you and that this parting of your two halves is just as hard on me as it is you. I’ll miss you and goodbye. I will take good care of my half and wish the other well.”

  Vibro laid her hands on both sides of the couch.

  “Which half are you going to keep?” Pen asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Vibro said. She studied the couch. “Well, I sat on this side most of the time so I’ll keep it.”

  “Are we all good now?” Sparky said.

  “Yes,” Vibro said, firmly.

  Sparky started the chain saw and handed it to Vibro. She cut through the leather like it was butter and the wood frame came apart clean. Sawdust motes filled the air and the smell of oak wafted up from the floor where the shavings lay like oversized fingernail clippings. Couches were easier to cut up than one might think, Sparky noted. Who knew? Probably no one, since most people didn’t cut up their living room furniture.

  There were footfalls on the stairs and Lexus appeared in the doorway. She didn’t look surprised. “I heard the chain saw. Let me guess, Jennifer wanted half the furniture,” she said.

  “Yep. How’d you know?” Vibro asked.

  “I’d have done the same thing had I thought of it. It’s quite ingenious and then there are all those halves of furniture sitting curbside,” Lexus said. “Are those pizza rolls I smell?”

  “Oh, crap, I forgot about them,” Vibro said, making a dash for the kitchen.

  Lexus gave Pen a knuckle bump. “I thought I’d find you up here.”

  “Cuz this is where the action is?” Pen said.

  “Precisely. I always say it’s practically criminal to miss an interesting moment,” Lexus said.

  With a mouthful of pizza rolls, Lexus was introduced to Frank and Adele. Neither of them even blinked at Lexus’s neon pink hair. That lichen stew had really done the trick, Sparky thought. Her parents were sitting on half pieces of furniture in a room with a woman named Vibro, a pink-haired life coach and a little girl who hauled around a backpack that contained all her worldly possessions…and it was all right. Sparky wondered if Lexus could find a Rolling Stones song that went with this moment—“Jumping Jack Flash” perhaps?

  Chapter Twenty

  Paint It Black

  Cheryl heard music blaring from her apartment and she was glad none of their neighbors were home. She unlocked the apartment door to find what can only be referred to as whirling dervishes
. She did at least recognize the dervishes. Pen and Lexus were wearing long multicolored skirts that allowed for swirling and they were dancing to the Rolling Stones song “Paint it Black.”

  They were laughing and smiling. “Come join us,” Lexus called out.

  Cheryl wished she could. “I don’t have the right attire.”

  Pen and Lexus swirled until the music stopped and then collapsed on the couch, exhausted. “Wow, that was a blast,” Lexus said.

  “Do you like our outfits?” Pen asked.

  “I do,” Cheryl said. She was going to ruin their afternoon and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “Phred brought them over,” Pen said.

  “Yeah, these are the prototypes for her new line of vagina-friendly dress wear,” Lexus said.

  “We don’t have underpants on so our vaginas can breathe,” Pen said.

  “Really?” Cheryl said. “Just so you know, neither of you is leaving the house without underpants. Your vaginas will breathe just fine fully attired.”

  “It’s very liberating,” Lexus said.

  Pen nodded. “I’ve never actually worn a dress before.”

  “Really? Not even on Easter?” Lexus seemed incredulous.

  “Maybe she doesn’t like dresses,” Cheryl stated. She’d been forced into wearing Easter dresses her entire childhood. Hunting for Easter eggs and not letting the boys see your underpants was no party.

  “I like this dress. Phred made it special for me,” Pen said.

  Lexus put her hand on her heart and blinked several times, an indicator of a heightened emotional state. “Wasn’t that sweet of her?” she said.

  “Phred wants to use me as a…” Pen looked over at Lexus, and then the word came, “Prototype for girls. I can have the job if I want it.”

  “Job?” Cheryl said.

  “Well, of course,” Lexus said. “Phred would never take advantage of child labor. Pen would be paid an hourly wage commensurate with Phred’s other models.”

  “She has models?” This was news to Cheryl.

  “Well, duh, she has to have people wearing her designs around town and plus there’s the avant-garde fashion scene. She does some runway work, but it’s not like the exploitation stuff. According to Phred, designing fashion is about reclaiming and reinventing women’s clothing—you know from a feminist perspective,” Lexus said.