“She’s waiting at home; you don’t know what you’re talking about,” The Skipper argued back. “I just paid the vet bill for her. Dr. Amsher wants to see her again on Monday.”
“You’re just an old fool. Dr. Amsher is dead, too. Dr. Susan bought out his practice after he passed.” Mrs. Skipper left him standing in the aisle and made her way to the front counter.
He followed her and they continued bickering. I knew exactly what was going on. I had gone through practically the same thing with my mother. I suddenly felt sorry for Mrs. Skipper.
She stood in front of me and pulled the groceries from her basket, making two piles. One pile she declared she was paying for; the other, she apologized, we would have to return to the shelves after she got The Skipper out of the store.
“It’s not a problem,” I said, pushing the second pile aside. “I totally understand.” Of course I did, suddenly realizing something—why hadn’t I figured it all out before? My grandmother singing her heart out, standing in the bay—insisting “he” was waiting to hear her. Feeding five-year-old me cups of strong coffee for lunch. Letting me puff on my own cigarillos for fun. Sometimes she forgot to dress me and I went to school in my pajamas and Mrs. Farnham, my teacher through second grade, would have to bring me home to get properly dressed. Sometimes she would buy me boy shirts and dress me in them, much to the amusement of my classmates. Sweatshirts, jeans, ugly sneakers. My mother was caught between needing to work, needing a babysitter, and needing to keep her mother safe.
Mrs. Skipper looked up at me. Our eyes met.
“You remember my grandmother, of course,” I said pointedly.
Her mouth opened slightly for a moment in surprise. “Yes,” she said. “How was I supposed to forget her?” There was a tone of—what? Sarcasm?—in her voice. But now she knew her secret about The Skipper’s state of mind was out. She knew I knew. She had been protecting him all this time and I would certainly not violate that, but I suddenly knew that her pronouncements about my grandmother had been put to an end. She blinked her pale eyes a few times and suddenly reached across the counter and took my hand in hers. Her hand was shaking. She wanted to say something, I could see words starting, but they were stuck behind her pride.
I went back to ringing up her order as though we hadn’t spoken at all. She watched me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “None of it was your fault.”
“No worries.” I started bagging her groceries before I realized that I had no idea what she meant. She took out her gold purse and stared down, as though she couldn’t figure out what to do with it. She finally opened it and took out a few bills, paid me, and snapped it shut.
“Make sure you give the girl a tip,” The Skipper said behind her. “The waitress is very nice here.”
She turned around to take his arm. “Let’s go home, Donald,” she said.
“I’ll carry these out for you.” I came out from behind the counter.
Such an elderly couple they were, walking slowly to the door together. I hadn’t noticed how hunched over she had become or how frail she looked. Hadn’t noticed before the prominent blue veins that crisscrossed the thin skin on the back of her hands. How much her white hair had gone patchy. She looked over at me and stuck her chin in the air and led him through the door. Yes, I thought, go with dignity, side by side. Both of you. At lease you have that. I grabbed their bags and followed them.
“Stay well, Skipper,” I said to him, as though everything were normal. I put their order in the backseat of their old faded green Ford. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Skipper. Hope to see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Tomorrow.”
* * *
I waited outside for a moment, watching as the car burped up a small puff of white smoke just before she drove away, Mrs. Skipper at the wheel, leaning forward to peer through the windshield, The Skipper already starting to nap. I thought how my mother had gone through all this with my grandmother. I didn’t realize it, growing up. I suppose families in the past just took care of their loved ones all by themselves, the work falling to the daughters, a sad duty passed down, quietly keeping the parents at home in familiar surroundings, loving them, protecting them, serving them. My grandmother had been able to spend her life, up to her last moments, thanks to my mother, secure and happy and totally demented. The duties get passed on, almost always in matrilineal descent, the obligation, the responsibility of caring and hard work and breaking hearts falling to the daughters. It was now my turn to care for my mother. Crazy was slithering through my family genes like a snake in a field. Slithering through parts of my community. Taking the elderly as hostages. You can’t help crazy, crazy is involuntary, but you can treat it with compassion.
* * *
Shay came outside to see what was keeping me. I turned to her. “Who will take care of me?” I wailed.
She knew what I meant and scolded me. “Don’t you worry. You will marry again and have children, and when you go crazy they will take care of you and when I go crazy my kids will bring me over and we’ll sit together in front of the Galley and cackle like geese and chew on Sandwiches until our dentures fall out and scare away the customers.” We hugged each other.
I didn’t believe her for one minute, but it felt good to be loved like that.
Chapter 24
The moon, once full of arrogance and light, was slowly quitting us, retreating into its waning gibbous phase, slowly returning the night sky to its feral state. Once again we could sit on the pier anonymously in the semidarkness, Vincent and I, tucked together to get through the ending of the day.
My arm was around him and we were listening to the barks and yips of the seals as they swam in the bay, sliding in on the high tide to sleep on the beach. Some of them had learned to climb onto the boats, sleeping one next to the other, laid out like logs, their collective weight putting the boats in peril of sinking. Boats that were moored well sat obediently, safely resting within their fenders made from used tires, tugging gently against their lines and rocking back and forth on the waves. Boats that had been neglected and badly secured bumped and poked their neighbors, banging and thumping against one another like restless children. Sam didn’t come this night and that was all right with me. Vincent and I went home to bed.
Later, I peeked out my bedroom window and there was the familiar blanket-bound figure on the pier. It comforted me more than I wanted to admit. He was there; he was out there. What could happen to me if he was out there to watch over me, he and his proud, powerful tattoo? I wanted this from him, and I wanted to give him the same comfort, but I was worried about our friendship accelerating only because we were both too vulnerable. We had become companions, but like the loosely moored boats we were bumping against each other, trying to find our places.
* * *
The next morning opened with a blaze of sun that glittered across the bay, a million sequins riding the tide out. I opened the Galley alone; Shay needed to sleep in. She hadn’t been feeling well the past two weeks. Every so often, she would grab the folding chair we kept behind the counter and sit down. Sometimes her face would pale and she would rub her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” I would immediately be at her side. “Maybe you should go home. Let me call Terrell so you can go to the doctor.”
She was adamant about staying and insisted she was just fine. And then, whatever it was would dissipate, and she rallied, but I always kept a watchful eye on her. She and Terrell had been waiting for her eighteenth-week mark to find out what the gender was.
She came in today while the impatient and hungry breakfast crowd was at its peak. I was scurrying from counter to deli case to the grill, helping everyone at once, when she suddenly appeared.
“Looks like you need me,” she said, poking her head through the top of an apron and then tying the sash into a big bow behind her back.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I cautioned, packing an order of five sandwiches into a cardboard box and adding containe
rs of salad around them.
“No worries.” She smoothly took on the next customer as if she had been there all day.
But by noon, she had sunk wearily onto the chair. I offered her water, tea, coffee, juice, a doughnut, and half my Sandwich. She didn’t want anything.
“I’m calling Terrell, and if I can’t get him then I’m going to close the Galley and take you to your doctor,” I said firmly. “You don’t look so good.”
This time she didn’t argue, which worried me even more. I called and Terrell was at the Galley in a flash.
“I can take it from here, Aila,” he said to me as he led her out to the car. “I already notified the doctor that we were on our way.”
I loved how he put his arm around her waist while gently guiding her to his car. I loved the look on his face, the concern, the pride, the complete adoration. I knew he made her dinner every night, and gave great back rubs and called her honey girl and sometimes played his fiddle until she fell asleep, and that she knew, appreciated, how good things were between them. I had to turn away and take a deep breath. It was everything I wanted. It was everything I once had. I stood next to his car while he pulled the seat belt across her waist and handed her a bottle of water.
I moved to the doorway of the Galley and stared after them. “We’ll call you and let you know what’s going on!” he yelled through the window. I nodded and waved as he drove down the road; I stood in the doorway until they were out of sight, waving, waving, waving. I wanted to get in the car with them. Or follow in my car. I wanted to be part of it all, but it wasn’t my life and it wasn’t my turn. I returned inside the store to wait.
* * *
A late-model silver-gray pickup truck pulled into the Galley’s small parking lot and stopped abruptly with a little screech of the brakes and a bounce. The door opened and Mrs. Ahmadi, Sam’s mother, jumped down from the cab. Today she was wearing a black-and-white print blouse over jeans, and a black hijab. A few customers paused for a second or two to look at her as she grabbed her purse from the front seat, slammed the heavy door, and entered the Galley.
“Is that Sam’s new truck?” I asked when she came in.
“Yes,” she replied, adjusting her head covering. “I dropped him off at the beach so he could work on the boat. My sister needed her car back.”
I peered at the truck through the store window; it looked to be in perfect condition, even to its fancy hubcaps. “Send him my congratulations.”
“He knew you were too busy working, so Phyllis and I went with him to pick it up.”
“I’m so glad he found something he liked,” I said, only a little bit glad that I didn’t need to go with him.
Mrs. Ahmadi waited on line to order her usual toasted muffin with butter and jelly, and a coffee, light and sweet. The lunch crowd was in and I was flying around behind the counter, racing to make sandwiches and ring up orders while apologizing a dozen times to everyone for taking so long. There was a weekend coming up and the day before is always a hectic time because of extra houseguests and special outings.
“You’re really busy, aren’t you?” Mrs. Ahmadi commented softly. “Where is that lovely lady who helps you?”
“Oh, Shay is off,” I said, handing her the coffee.
“Will she be gone for long?” she asked. “Because I noticed she was pregnant. I can help you, if you’re looking for an assistant. I could use the work.” I looked up at her in surprise. It had occurred to me that at some point Shay would not be able to work anymore, and though I couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else by my side, I might need help sooner than I expected.
Mrs. Ahmadi tilted her head and made a wry face. “Would this be a problem?” Her hand went up to her hijab and she touched it gently.
“Not at all,” I said. “In fact, I’m glad you offered.” She jotted down her phone number and left it on the counter and I put it in my pocket.
It was a long day. Every time my cell phone rang I thought it might be Shay, but when closing time finally came I still hadn’t heard from her or Terrell.
I was more than ready to go home, but even closing the Galley was filled with chores. I had to pre-cook ten pounds of bacon, clean the flattop, wipe down the counters, doors, and windows, mop the floors, leave orders out for the muffin and bread man, as well as the milk and egg man, set the alarm, turn on the cameras and the motion detector lights, and finally lock the front door, pull the little scissor gate across it, and lock that as well. Vincent accompanied me as I did each chore and then, sighing heavily with fatigue, followed me out the door.
* * *
My plans for the night consisted of a big, comforting bowl of homemade vegetable barley soup and a glass of my special brew of iced tea and pomegranate juice.
We both had soup for dinner—Vincent’s followed by a biscuit, mine by my iced tea and two cookies. I put the bowls and the tea on a platter and carried them outside to the back deck so we could sit at the little table and watch the seals. I made sure to bring my cell phone, too, in case Terrell called.
It was a quiet night, getting enclosed by twilight. Smoke gray clouds smudged the sky; darker clouds turned it into base metal. A breeze suddenly played with the leaves on the garden plants, making them dip and bow in an obedient dance, and the tide started rippling with small fringes of foam. I liked having Vincent by my side to talk to, as though he understood my words.
“See the sky? I bet it’s going to rain,” I said to him. “We’d better finish our dinners and plan to stay in this evening.” He didn’t need to be prompted to lap up his soup.
“You’re the best boy,” I said, and then a sudden lump in my throat warned me that tears were imminent. “You know I love you.” I watched as he licked his bowl clean and then sniffed the biscuit before taking it from my hand, then lying down to eat it leisurely. “You’re my family now.”
Who was I kidding?
As the moistened air lingered against my face, it was dampening my spirit. I was kidding no one. The dog wasn’t Dan’s replacement, or my real child, or even a blood member of my family. I loved him. Yes, I loved him, but I wanted more.
He stood up and looked at the bay. The seals were waddling across the beach to find their favorite spots and Vincent’s tattered half ear perked up, the muscles tensing in his neck as he watched them. He sniffed the air and whined ever so softly.
“No running on the beach,” I said. “Just stay with me.” He must have heard something in my voice and sat down again, turning his face up to lick my chin. “Thank you,” I whispered.
* * *
The house phone suddenly rang and I rushed inside to answer it.
It was Shay.
“I’m so glad to hear from you,” I gushed. “Are you okay? How’s the baby?”
She sighed. “I have to keep off my feet,” she said regretfully. “Everything should be fine, but I do have to stay off my feet for a while.”
“Oh, Shay, I’m so sorry!”
“I’m basically okay. Just need to rest,” she said. “I’m not high risk, but I’m not twenty years old, either. We just have to be watchful.”
“You do everything you need to,” I replied. “Listen to your doctor.”
“I know it leaves you in a spot.”
“Don’t worry about me. Taking care of yourself and the baby is the most important thing. Did you get your sonogram done?”
There was a long pause. She giggled. “Yes. I’m further along than we thought.”
“So aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
“Well, we were going to call our parents to tell them,” she said, “but since you were so worried, and you’re practically family, I’ll tell you first. It’s twins! Twin boys! We’re going to need more names!”
Chapter 25
It is never the same water. My grandmother told me that once when I was upset about a bad day in school.
I guess I had forgotten that. Even when the bay looks like it did yesterday, every molecule has been altered
by some alchemy of time and space and movement. Of course Shay has her own life and was only working summers more as a tribute to old times than economic need. We both knew the day would come when she would leave for New Jersey one winter and not return the following summer because there were other things she wanted or needed to do. I knew this from the beginning, but I didn’t want it to be now, or next week, or next year. Or ever, so I had put it out of my mind.
* * *
Now I had to be pragmatic. Summer is a very busy time for the store, and there was no way I could handle it alone. I was thankful Sam’s mother appeared when she did and I called her first thing the next day to ask her to come in for an interview, though I had already decided that I would hire her. She was mature; she knew how to handle food; it would be just a matter of showing her how the Galley functioned. I was sure I would be able to depend on her and hoped we could work well together, even though she had given me the distinct feeling that she didn’t quite approve of me.
* * *
Mrs. Ahmadi was very polite on the phone, but she wanted to discuss salary first. She wanted much more than minimum wage because she felt maturity brings benefits. She wanted to arrive at eight thirty in the morning and leave at three. She didn’t especially care to work weekends and would not sell beer. And she didn’t like working the meat slicer, because she had cultivated long nails and, well, the slicer slices. But I needed help right away and thought it prudent to just agree to her terms. She arrived half an hour later.
“I don’t mind helping you out,” she said, tying on an apron, Shay’s apron, and taking her place behind the counter. “I’ll have this place pulled together in short order.”
Though I wasn’t entirely sure that the Galley needed to be pulled together, I was relieved I had found someone to help me who was over seventeen and didn’t have a cell phone growing out of the palm of her hand. I did wonder how those customers who had a problem with a woman standing on line buying a cup of coffee while wearing a hijab would adjust to actually having one helping them from behind the counter.
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