Not His Type

by Canton, Chamein

  “Okay. Is the weather better today?”

  “Much better. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting a game in tonight.”

  “Good. I’ll be watching.”

  “Have a good one, baby. Don’t let her put you on the rack.”

  “It’s probably too late for that.”

  Cathy hung up, annoyed with her mother.

  “Mom, why in the world do you talk to me when I’m on the phone?”

  “You should be concentrating on your driving.” She drove home the point with her finger.

  “We’re still in one piece, Mom. I didn’t run a light or pop a stop sign.”

  “You have to be careful; so many people get into accidents talking on their phones.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’m being careful.”

  “Was that the baseball player?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “What’s the story with Sunday’s gossip column?”

  Cathy’s heart sank. “Nothing, Mom. It was a lie and they printed a retraction on Monday.”

  “You’re a 40-year-old woman and mother; you had no business being in some nightclub.”

  “Mom, I went there with Marcus. He wasn’t worried about my age. We just went there to dance.”

  “Aren’t you older than him?”

  “Yes, Mom, I am. I’m six years older.”

  “So he’s only 34?” her mother asked.

  “What do you mean, only thirty four?”

  “He isn’t too old to be in a nightclub.”

  Cathy was stunned. Oh no, she isn’t going there, she thought. Cathy used one of the few diffusers she had for her mother.

  “Mom, may I remind you that you were 20 plus years younger than Mr. Anderson?”

  “Are you buying a lot of groceries today?”

  The diffuser worked. “No, I’m just picking up some groceries for the next couple of days. We’re flying to Tampa Friday morning.”

  “What’s in Tampa?”

  “A Yankee game.”

  “I know you’re not following this man everywhere. You have children.”

  Cathy rolled her eyes. “First, I’m not following him everywhere; otherwise, I’d be in Baltimore. Secondly, my children are in college. So I am not flaunting anything in front of them.”

  “Really? What do you call that article yesterday?”

  “Fish paper.”

  “I just don’t know. I raised the both of you to be better than that. I just don’t approve of that kind of conduct.” She shook her head.

  “You did say I was 40 and Anna’s 36, which means we are far beyond the age of needing your approval.”

  Although her mother didn’t think Cathy was religious, Cathy thanked God when they pulled into the parking lot. Conversations with her mother tended to be interesting and eventful in a make-you-feel-guilty-about-the-choicesyou’ve-made kind of way. As they entered the store, Cathy and her mother grabbed a couple of shopping carts. While she might not follow all of her mother’s beliefs, Cathy still stuck to the way her mother had taught her to shop. Shop the outside, that’s where all the good-for-you food is. Naturally they were in the produce aisle.

  “Ouch!” Elizabeth grabbed her arm.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?”

  “The sprinkler came on.”

  Cathy took a closer look at her arm. “Mom, you have sunburn.”

  “I do not. I’m from the South. I used to work in the fields and I never got sunburned.”

  “That’s because the hole in the ozone layer wasn’t twice the size of Alaska back then. You know, Mom, sunblock isn’t just for white people. Black folks get sunburned too.”

  Her mother scoffed. “It’s just so ridiculous. As if I’m not paying enough for my medications, now I have to spend money on tanning cream? Summer is almost over.”

  “Not suntan lotion, Mom, sunblock. You can pick some up on the way out. The sun doesn’t mix well with most medications, you know.”

  Cathy looked at her mother. After forty years she knew that expression on her mother’s face. Her mother had just tuned her out and zeroed in on what she was wearing. “Before you say another word, Mom, I have on a good bra and a slip.”

  Her mother played innocent. “Why did you say that? I didn’t say a word.”

  “Mom, I know you as well as you know me. And I recognize that look.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything about it. I was just going to say I’m going over to the organic section.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’m going to pick up some olives for my pasta salad later.”

  A few people watched Cathy as she filled a container at the olive bar. She was sure most of Amityville’s 10,000+ population had either seen the paper or watched the entertainment news show. She filled the container with black olives.

  “Cathy?”

  She knew the voice immediately.

  “Paul,” she said in an even tone.

  “It’s good to see you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How have you been? You look great.”

  “Fine, thank you,” Cathy said.

  She continued browsing the olive bar until he finally got the message. “It was good seeing you.”

  “Take care, Paul.”

  Cathy wasn’t really mad at Paul anymore; she just couldn’t seem to get the image of him in bed with his student out of her mind. It was hard for her to see him and not think of that night. Cathy found her mother and continued shopping. A few minutes later her mother slowed down to nearly a crawl.

  “Okay, Mom. What is wrong with you?”

  “There’s some woman following us.”

  “What woman?”

  “A blond.”

  “Where?” Cathy was furious.

  “Over there. She’s in frozen foods.”

  She looked over and it was the blond reporter from the gym, Lisa Spellman.

  “Take my cart, Mom.” She was hot.

  “Cathy, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’m not going do anything stupid, Mom. I just want to know why she’s following me.”

  Spellman saw her coming and ran. The woman actually ran. But Cathy had a full head of steam.

  “Don’t you run! I want to speak to you.”

  “I have mace!” She fumbled through her bag.

  “I’m not coming to eat you, little girl. I just want to know why you’re following me!”

  People stopped to watch the encounter.

  “It’s called freedom of the press.”

  “I know all about freedom of the press. But in the name of all things decent, stop following me for a story. I’m shopping with my mother. What the hell kind of story is that?”

  “It’s my job,” she insisted.

  “I understand you’re a working woman. So am I. All I am asking you to do is please back off. There is no story here. I may have squeezed a couple of melons but that’s about the extent of my high jinks.”

  People started to laugh. Eventually Spellman laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

  She stuck her hand out. “Lisa Spellman.”

  Cathy shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lisa. Even though you know my name, allow me to introduce myself anyway. I’m Catherine Chambers.”

  “Nice to meet you, Catherine.”

  As the crowd dispersed her mother walked over. “Is everything all right, Cathy?”

  “It’s fine.” She turned to Lisa. “Lisa, this is my mother, Elizabeth Anderson. Mom, this is Lisa Spellman.”

  She shook Lisa’s hand. “So you’re the stalker.”

  “Mom!”

  Lisa took it in stride. “That’s okay, I’ve been called worse. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson.”

  “You certainly made grocery shopping interesting. By the way, Cathy, do you have everything?”

  “Yes, I’m done.”

  “Good, I have to get back home. Ingrid wants me to go with her to her attorney’s office.”

  “Okay. You go ahead, Mom. I’ll be right there.”


  “So, Lisa, now that you’re not my stalker, would you like to have lunch this afternoon, say around one P.M.?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. There’s a place on Route 110 called Pete’s Diner. The food is good and the patrons are colorful. I can meet you there.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you then.”

  The customers were all abuzz in the checkout lines. They’d given them quite a floorshow for their shopping entertainment.

  Cathy noticed The Tattler on the checkout stand. She wasn’t worried about her mother seeing it. Her mother was more concerned with the amount of candy they had on display for children. Today her predictability worked in Cathy’s favor.

  v

  Hobo came running out of his doghouse, at least as far as the chain would let him when Cathy pulled into the driveway. Cathy smiled when she saw him wagging his tail 90 mph. Cathy loved dogs but had decided against pets when her kids were growing up. Picking up after the kids was time consuming enough. Hobo sat and waited for Elizabeth to pet him, which she almost never did. Cathy gave him credit for persistence. She heard him whining when she turned off the ignition.

  “Mom, did you feed the dog today?”

  “No, I had to pick up some more dog food.” Cathy got out. “He tells on you every time.” Her mother dismissed it with a wave. “Old dog.”

  Cathy helped her mother get her grocery bags in the house.

  “Which bag has the dog food, Mom?” Cathy asked as she put the bags on the table.

  “I think I have it here.” Elizabeth handed her a can of food.

  Cathy got the can opener and went outside.

  Hobo was actually older than her mother, in dog years, but Cathy loved to call him a puppy.

  “Here you go, puppy.” She patted him on the head and he immediately assumed the position for a tummy rub. “Aww. You are the sweet dog, aren’t you? I know that Mom didn’t feed you today, did she, big puppy?” She poured the food into his dish, changed his water and went back inside to wash her doggy hands.

  “So, are you all set, Mom?” she asked.

  Elizabeth put the milk in the fridge. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I guess I better get back home and put my dairy away.”

  “Is Anna working out here today?”

  “I think she’s on the island this week.”

  “I have an appointment a week from this Saturday. I want her to take me.”

  “I think she and Roger have an appointment with a catering hall that day. I could be wrong but I think it’s a week from this Saturday.”

  Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh. “A catering hall? Is she having a big wedding?”

  “You could ask her yourself, Mom.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why she’s having some big wedding. It’s not like she hasn’t been married before.”

  Cathy turned to roll her eyes. “You know, Mom, Anna is very happy with Roger. He’s a nice guy. Why can’t you ever be happy for her?”

  Elizabeth adjusted her glasses in that mother superior way of hers. “You know why.”

  “Right. Because he’s not a part of the faith and we aren’t either. So that means you can’t be happy for your own daughter?”

  “You know what the right standards are.”

  “Whose standards, Mom?”

  “God’s.”

  “Oh, give me a break!”

  Elizabeth looked shocked. “What?”

  Cathy was emboldened. “Give me a break. This isn’t about God! It’s about control.”

  “What control? Who’s trying to control you?”

  “You are. That’s always been your M.O.”

  Her mother played the guilt card. “I struggled to bring you girls up the right way and then you just flush it down the toilet.”

  “We didn’t flush you down the toilet, Mom. We just didn’t want to be a part of that collective anymore.”

  “You know it means your life.”

  “It certainly does and that’s exactly why I got out.”

  “It’s like the two of you are dead.”

  “Guess what, Mom. Now you know how we feel about you. Do you know what it’s like to watch your mother die and see this other person take her place?”

  “What are you talking about? Another person?” Elizabeth was mystified.

  “Yes, Mom. You are someone else and you don’t even know it. How can you not be happy for your own children? We’re not drug addicts or prostitutes. I wasn’t an alcoholic child abuser!”

  “I realize that.”

  “Do you? Anna is 36 years old, an accountant, and she has no children. Not one. Roger is a 40-year-old electrical engineer with no children and somehow they found each other. Any other mother would think this was the equivalent to finding the Holy Grail of love matches. Two people without children are getting married. You should be happy for her.”

  Her mother sat down. “You know what good principles are and neither of you is following them.”

  “According to you.” Cathy went to the door. “There isn’t any use in talking to you about this. We are just going to go in circles. I would like for you to show Anna at least a tenth of the joy you show those folks in the faith when they get hitched.”

  “I have to make some decisions.”

  “You go right ahead and make them, Mom. You’ve made decisions before and when something happens you come to us to for help. We may not always be your daughters, Mom, but you’re still our mother because those are our standards.”

  She stepped out and then back in. “If you have a doctor’s appointment that Saturday and one of your friends can’t help you out I might be able to take you in the latter part of the afternoon.”

  “Fine.”

  This was the same dance Cathy had been doing with her mother for ten years. Most times it was Anna who took her on with Cathy just simmering in the background. Cathy suspected that some of Anna’s power came from her relationship with Roger, that in Roger she’d found a true sense of happiness that protected her. Cathy was more vulnerable to her words and pronouncements from upon high. However, being with Marcus was making Cathy stronger. That was something no one, not even her mother, could take away from her.

  CHAPTER 19

  After an extra long workout in the morning, Marcus had lunch in his room. Some of his teammates invited him to go out for lunch but he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t sulking about the loss the night before; he was anxious to see the article in The Tattler and didn’t want an audience.

  Ben slowly walked down the hall with a copy of The Tattler under his jacket. If it looked like a covert operation, it was. They couldn’t afford to have anyone snap him with that rag in his hands. Ben knocked once and used the extra key card to let himself in.

  “Did you get it?” Marcus was anxious.

  “Simmer down. Here it is.” Ben placed a copy of The Tattler on the table. Marcus was appalled by the cover. “Good grief. Here’s Cybil’s tale of woe listed next to the latest sighting of Bigfoot.”

  Ben snickered. “No one takes this stuff seriously.” “Maybe not but there are other tabloid rags besides The Tattler .”

  “You should relax, Marcus. Cathy didn’t take it seri

  ously. It was just a passing raindrop. I wouldn’t give it

  enough weight to call it a shower.”

  Marcus sighed. “I guess I forgot to mention that Lisa

  Spellman has been on the scene.”

  For the first time Ben looked alarmed. “She has?

  Since when?”

  “Cathy’s not sure how long but she did say Lisa was

  asking questions about her at her gym.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her to stay away from Lisa, not to engage her.” “Good.” He glanced at the television. “You can’t help

  yourself, can you?”

  Marcus looked up at the sports show. “I know it

  seems masochistic but sometimes these guys are on the

  mo
ney with their comments.”

  “And the rest of the time they’re talking out their

  behinds,” Ben retorted.

  “It makes for good television, I guess.”

  “Did you talk to Cathy after the game?”

  “No, I was going to call but it was kind of late. I

  talked to her this morning.”

  “That explains your chipper mood.”

  Marcus smiled. “I’m feeling pretty good.”

  “So she was really okay with that Cybil thing

  yesterday?”

  “It didn’t seem to faze her.”

  “I’m glad it didn’t faze her but it sure fazed me.” “I know, Ben. I think Cybil’s up to something, too.

  What, I don’t know.”

  “Keep a wide berth from her while she’s here shooting

  her movie. The press would love to see any inkling of you

  two getting back together.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been down this

  road before.”

  “You know where all the speed bumps and potholes

  are, just make sure you steer clear.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Let’s get back to Cathy. When is she flying into

  Tampa?”

  Marcus lit up. “Friday morning and I can’t wait to see

  her.”

  Ben laughed. “You know, I wasn’t sure about it until

  just now.”

  “Sure about what?”

  “You’re in love with her.”

  Marcus got flustered and bobbled his fork. Ben

  laughed and patted Marcus on the back. “Young man, if

  your nose was any more open, we’d be able to get two

  Mack trucks through it.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to protest then thought

  better of it. “I would prefer to say the words to her. If

  that’s okay with you.”

  “Hey, that’s all right with me.”

  Marcus wiped his mouth. “You like her, don’t you?” Ben smiled. “She’s a keeper, Marcus. What’s not to

  like?”

  Marcus grinned. “Now who’s preaching to the choir?”

  v

  Two most unusual lunch companions sat across from each other at Pete’s Diner, a well-loved Amityville place to meet and eat.