Focused

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  She leaned back. “If you mean us, oh Jeff, of course…” she said a little too hastily. But do I? I still feel this new closeness is more of a fantasy.

  He held up his hand, accepting her response. “Then, are you happy with your work and living here in this small town? I mean, you were raised as a city girl with operas and concerts and balls and stuff like that.”

  “And hated it.” She stuck out her tongue, a defiance she never dared to show as a child wearing stiff petticoats and scratchy lace.

  He chuckled. “Still, I know we moved out here for Josh’s sake, so he’d have a more wholesome life and better schooling.”

  “True, we did. And I don’t regret it, Jeff. Even with the commutes every day. I live thirty minutes from Austin. If I wanted to go to the ballet, we’d go.” His face turned a slight hue of green, so she added, “I meant we as in me with one of the girls from church, of course.”

  His color returned to normal. “I know. I’m just saying. There’s nothing written in stone saying we should stay here. Do you need a change of scenery?”

  Christina wondered if she should feel his forehead. “Jeff, Allensville has been my home for over twenty years. My life is here. My friends. My church is down the road. We have wonderful neighbors. Heck, even The Fresh Basket, my favorite grocer is here. And Bonnie’s Bakery.” She smacked her lips. “Why would I want to move?”

  Jeff folded the paper in quarters and set it aside. “Well, are you looking for a new avenue to explore? Have you been bored?”

  Christina looked down at her clasped hands. He’s grabbing for any straw. He doesn’t begin to grasp what been going on inside me, despite my heartfelt outpourings.

  Thinking of all the years of being a working mom, all those last minutes projects, soccer games, Boy Scouts, keeping a house clean, her family fed and dressed, her activities at church … well she could hardly say it had all been boring. But, was she bored now that the whirlwind of raising a son was gone? Sure, there was void in the vortex Josh left behind along with the box containing his teddy bear. Did she miss the swirling of life all around her?

  “I don’t think ‘bored’ would describe it,” she thought out loud. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s more like is my life bored with me? It’s kinda like expectancy. Now that I have this newfound knowledge, what am I to do with it? Do I take on something, let go of other things? Besides you, of course.” She patted his hand. He grabbed it and squeezed back.

  “Bob’s wife went through this a few years ago, he said. Kids grown and she wondered what she wanted to be next. Is that it?”

  “You’ve talked this over with the guys at work?” The thought disturbed her. Their home secrets revealed. She pushed away the goldfish bowl mentality which surfaced. That’s silly. I talk to the girls at the office, why would he not do the same? “Sorry. Of course you do. You’ve been that worried?”

  “Perplexed would be a better word. I feel like there’s something you’re still not telling me.”

  I know. Christina looked out the window at the bright yellow butterfly flitting from leaf to leaf. She pointed. “See that butterfly? I refuse to imitate it, fluttering willy–nilly from one half done project to the next in a futile attempt to void-fill my time. If God wants me to take on something, He’ll let me know. I mean, I am just not sure of my motivation up to this point.”

  Jeff shook his head. “Huh?”

  She became more animated. “Has it all been so I would look good in everyone else’s eyes, or be liked by everyone, or did I do it to please God because I thought that was what He expected? I’m not sure any of those motives are pure. They just focus on me.”

  She picked up her coffee cup, went to the sink to rinse it, then hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, unconsciously putting distance between them. “I guess I need to spend more time by myself and think this through. Maybe it’s the realization I am about to hit the half century mark. Maybe God is calling me to do something and preparing me for it, sort of like what Father Rick said last Sunday in his sermon. Remember? When Peter walked out of the boat and on the water to meet Jesus?”

  She saw a glaze forming over his eyes. No, she wasn’t going to go into a Bible study mode and intellectualize it away. “I guess I didn’t know how to tell you I wanted to be left alone to work it all out and not hurt your feelings.”

  “Hon,” Jeff took a deep breath, let it out and stood to make eye contact. “You forget I get up a good hour before you do. That’s my reflection time. And when I am out piddling around in the workshop, that’s my time, too… to think things out.” His voice had an impatient edge.

  “And you had been spending more and more time out there. Even in the winter.” She hopped down and put her arms around his bathrobed middle.”I suspected girlie magazines or drugs.”

  He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, what I am trying to say is if you need time to yourself, do it.” Jeff added, “Why don’t we turn Josh’s old bedroom into your sitting room? We could put in some built-in bookshelves where you can have your Bible study stuff, your books and all of those knick-knacks that are so special to you.”

  “That you can’t stand to have cluttering the tables all over the house?”

  “It’s not that. But you have stuff he made in Cub Scouts displayed as if they were precious crystal.”

  They both felt an old argument surfacing. He returned to the original thought. “Look, you could put the winged back chair in there, the one you used to love to curl up in but never do anymore? We could turn the trundle bed around against the wall and make it one of those daybeds they show on those home decorating shows. Or we could give it to the firehouse for burned out families and buy a sleeper sofa. It can be your personal sanctuary.”

  “I suppose.” Her feelings were still back on the knick-knacks barb. She tried to push her thoughts forward to the current topic.

  “Paint it the color you like. It will be your new project. Besides, it’s a lot bigger than the bathroom.” Jeff eyed her, letting that comment hang as he picked his coffee cup, placed it in the sink and walked towards the den.

  Christina knew her blush rivaled the color of the roses on the wall calendar in front of her. She’d always found the bathroom the one place in the house where she could shut the door and not be disturbed. It had been her crying space, her place of prayer and contemplation, and quite a few nobody-understands-me pity parties. She thought only she knew of its secret purpose. After all of these years of marriage, why should it surprise her that he knew why she ran the water in the tub so long?

  “I really like mauve,” she volleyed, raising her voice a little as he walked away. “And I would like to put Josh’s old teddy bear and his school years pictures in there. And our photo albums.” She heard what sounded like “sure, whatever” float back though the open doorway.

  Christina stood, stretched her back and sighed. She walked towards the direction of her husband’s voice. He stared out the slider, watching Precious chase a bug in the backyard, whether real or imaginary remained unclear. She slid her arms around his waist and leaned into his warm back.

  “I don’t know, Jeff. I’m sorry I have acted so aloof.” She let go and stood in the middle of the den rug. She waved the thought away. “I guess it all boils down to this. I am just not sure my life has made any difference to anyone, especially if I have been focused on me and how I came across to everyone else instead. And isn’t that what we are put on the earth for? To make a difference?”

  Instinctively, unaware of the significance, she took off her glasses and began to wipe the smudges off so she could see out of them better. Then she turned to go back into the kitchen.

  But Jeff caught the symbolism. He’d just had his own little revelation. He realized what might get her out of this roller coaster slump she kept riding. It also might be the way he could thank her for all the years she had been there for him and everyone else.

  Maybe then she’d stop saying he never told her how much he loved or
appreciated her. To save her and their marriage, he now knew what to do… or so he hoped. It wasn’t a cruise a year or so down the road or even a maid, though he’d still make sure both happened. He wasn’t sure he could fix it all, but for her, he’d try. If she were a leaky faucet it would be easier. He knew how to fix stuff like that.

  Chapter 30 Maid to Order

  Jeff wouldn’t let go of the maid issue. She wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe for him it was an appeasement, his way of doing penance for all those years of not helping her out, especially the last few. Whatever it was, she couldn’t figure out why she felt so against it.

  “Tell me why I feel this way, Betty?” She asked her guild partner while they ironed the fair linen cloth for the altar.

  It seemed every time it was their week to serve, the acolytes were extra messy dripping sooty wax droplets all over the place. Either that, or maybe neither Marge nor Virginia, the ladies that had duty the week before, could see them. They were getting up into their seventies now.

  “You tell me. Is it because you don’t feel you need one?”

  “Yes. Well, I mean I have always been perfectly capable of cleaning my own house.”

  “Of course you have. Jeff isn’t saying you do a bad job.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Betty looked over her readers at her friend. “Come off it Christina. Everyone knows you could eat off your floors. If the Queen ever came to Allensville, you would be nominated hands down to have the reception at your house.”

  The Queen. Was she that transparent? “Okay. I guess not. But why all of a sudden?”

  “God gave him a revelation we all wish our husbands would have?” Mary Ellen shrugged and went back to filling the candle wells with liquid wax.

  Christina grinned and shook her head. She tugged on the linen to straighten it. “Betty, you have a service come in right?”

  “Yes, but only after months and months of whining.” Betty laughed. “Thomas never suggested it.”

  The two stopped and each grabbed an end of the cloth to spread it back evenly. Then stepping back they measured to make sure the embroidered cross was centered so the fair linen hung evenly down the sides.

  “Virginia’s aunt made this you know. Must have been over thirty-two years ago now. Made it for her wedding as a gift.”

  Mary Ellen came in carrying the chalice and cruets of wine and water on a tray. “Mother told me it was in thanksgiving that Virginia finally hooked a guy.”

  Christina grinned. “Beautiful work. And it has lasted so well.”

  Betty gingerly smoothed out a corner. “Mary Ellen? Come see how we do this.”

  The younger bobbed blonde head nodded Okay. She was the newest guild member on the team, still learning the ropes. She wiped her hands and came over to the two experienced women.

  “You should line up the candles next to the little embroidered crosses like this.” Betty demonstrated as Mary Ellen watched in reverent silence. Betty returned to their conversation.

  “Anyway, I think you should try it out. I have the number to the service I use in my purse. I’ll give it to you before we leave.” She crossed her hands over her ample bosom as if to say conversation ended.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Christina replied. But she wasn’t sure she did.

  * * *

  After mulling it over, Christina bounced it off of her son the next day. He had the day off, a rarity on a Sunday for a college student who worked in an electronics store at the mall. So, of course he came over to do his laundry after they were home from church. When she asked him how he rated the day off, he just shrugged and said, “I have seniority now, I guess. Been working there almost two years.”

  His mother smiled, proud her son made assistant sales manager of the department. One of three, but it still remained a feather in his cap.”So, you think I should get a maid, too, huh?”

  “Why not, Mom? You deserve it. I’m not around to help out. Dad’s too busy. You’ve been busting your bones all your life. Now you two can afford a luxury here and there. I think it’s great.” He held a towel under his chin, folding it the same way she always did.

  “But it’s my house and I like things…”

  “Yes, Mom. We know. ‘Just so.’ So tell her what you want her to do. Lay down the rules, you know? Give her strict boundaries. They’re professionals. They’re used to that sort of stuff.”

  Christina handed him another towel and folded the washcloths. “Betty says they are bonded. And none of them are illegal. She made sure of that.”

  “Even better.” He son replied.

  “I just don’t know.”

  “Mom,” Josh sighed as he put the folded laundry in his basket. “Promise me and Dad you won’t run around cleaning the house before the maid comes, Okay?”

  “You know me too well.” his mother confessed, tossing a washcloth in his direction.

  The next day she took her cell phone into the restroom and called the Maid Your Day Agency. She nearly gawked at the price of having a maid come on a weekly basis. She should make so much an hour!

  “So, what about once every two weeks? How much is that?”

  When the woman told her she became more astounded. “That’s more than double, how come?”

  “Because your house gets twice as dirty, at least.” The rote but pleasant voice assured Christina many other people ask the same thing.

  She took a gulp and grabbed a pen. “Alright. I’ll run it by my husband and call you tomorrow. What was your name?”

  “Elli, but if I’m not here Juanita can help you, too.”

  That night she told Jeff the price as soon as he came in the door. He set down his briefcase and without looking at her said. “Do it.”

  “But Jeff…” she started to object but his raised hand shot her objection down in mid air.

  “Hey, Betty says they are good. And reliable. That says a lot. You trust her and you have seen her house. They do a great job, right?”

  There was no more argument left in her. She couldn’t put a handle onto why she still had objections. But she would comply. Everyone else thought it was great. Maybe she’d warm up to it too, given time.

  * * *

  For several days, Christina poured over the Internet and decorating magazines searching for just the right color scheme. She searched the fabric stores on her lunch breaks to find the perfect fabric with Angela dutifully in tow.

  “You’re being way too obsessive about this, you know.” Angela said on their fourth trip.

  “No, I just know what I want and I’m just not seeing it. All of the fabrics are too bold, or too busy. I want something soothing…and classic.”

  “In pastels.”

  Christina nodded as she thumbed through bolts. “Yes, mauve, taupe, muted greens, baby blues…that sort of thing.”

  “And you want pattern, like flowers.” Angela flipped through some swatches.

  “Yes, but not too Laura Ashley. It needs to be a guest room, too. Maybe two fabric patterns? A geometric and a floral? Perhaps a solid?”

  Angela flopped down the last thick binder of samples.”Girl, you know the patterns here better than the sales clerk. If it’s not here, it’s not here.”

  “I know. Let’s go back to work.” Christina said, her balloon of happiness thoroughly popped.

  Jeff had her look through designs of bookshelves as well. Should they have cabinets underneath? How about drawers? She became overwhelmed as she tried to picture each style and the various ways to display her books and treasures on the shelves. She combed the discount stores choosing little accessories for the room. She taped the decorating shows the Cable TV guide stated were about guest bedrooms and studies.

  As she watched a few and took notes, Jeff hammered away at the bookcases in the garage and tried to stay out of her hair. After all, he had stuff to mull over, too. Plans had to be made.

  His wife peered into the man cave, also known as the garage when tools were not crowding out any space for parkin
g the cars. Back and forth footprints in fine sawdust covered the floor. “You holding a square dance contest in here?”

  Jeff peered through the safety glasses. “Ha, ha, woman o’ mine.”

  “Maybe we should postpone the maid until the study is finished.”

  Jeff took the carpenter pencil from behind his ear and marked another measurement. “Nice try, hon, but, no.”

  Christina gave him a deflated nod and slumped back into the kitchen, into women’s territory. Humph. And he worried about me wanting a project? He’s the one who needs one. His mood’s elevated once surrounded by wood shavings and nails.

  Christina told everyone at work she had an appointment on Thursday morning and would be in about ten.

  Angela, of course, asked, “Why? You sick?”

  Christina confessed about the maid thing.

  “That is so cool, girl. You deserve it. Heck, we all do.”

  Christina shot a glance around the office and put a finger to her lip. “Don’t tell everyone about this, Okay?”

  Angela knitted her brow. “Why? Afraid they’ll be jealous?” She waved the thought way.

  “So? Let them.”

  Christina thought for a moment. No more worrying what others think. “Maybe I do deserve it. It would make my weekends a lot easier. I’ll have time to volunteer more, or maybe just relax and read a book.”

  Angela tapped her temple.

  Christian returned to her desk. The more she thought about it, the more she realized what really bugged her. Her mother always had a maid and never worked a day in her life. Well, that wasn’t fair to say, really. Her mother had been involved in many non-profit and civic groups. She had done a great deal for the community and her husband’s law career. Still, it was her old defiance against the social thing to do which once again reared its ugly little head. Old habits, old patterns, old way of seeing things.

  After a few minutes, she looked towards Angela.”I am helping someone do their job right? I don’t balk at the guy wanting to carry out my groceries or the dry cleaners clerk, right?”