1 Carpe Bead'em

by Tonya Kappes

  “No.” I fumble with a couple of the beads. “I made it.”

  “I love the color.” She admires it a little more. “It’s gorgeous, and it shows the orange in your trench.”

  I take the bracelet off, and hand it to her. “I made it, and I’d like to give it to you.”

  “I couldn’t.” Sheila puts her hand up to her chest.

  “Yes. Please take it as a thank you.” I put it on her wrist. “A perfect fit. You have to take it.”

  My confidence takes a leap through the roof, and I’m ready to take on the world.

  Chapter Twenty

  After the interview, I can’t concentrate on work. All of this bead talk has thrown me for a loop. I’m doing the job I’ve always dreamed of and now I can’t keep my head in it.

  What is it about the beads? Do they relax me? Why do they call my name?

  With my head full of jumble, I decide to take my lunch break early and stop by Aunt Grace’s.

  “Aunt Grace, I brought lunch.” I gulped my sandwich down before I get to her apartment because there’s no way I’ll be able to eat in there. I had to do it for years with no option, but now that I have the option, I prefer my food without roaches at the table.

  She greets me by pulling my hand to her eyes. She inspects my knuckle from the top and all sides. Without a word, she drags me down the hall and right into someone else’s apartment.

  “Inas, you hear me?” Aunt Grace hollers into the dimly lit room.

  “Aunt Grace, you can’t do this!” Has she totally lost her mind? “Just because you are the landlord doesn’t give you the right to barge in.”

  I jump when I hear a woman’s voice. “I’ve been expecting you.” The gypsy standing near the small table with a crystal ball flicks on a light.

  The apartment is clean. Unlike Aunt Grace’s pad, Inas doesn’t have a bug one, or one that I see, anyway. The window treatments create heavy shadows in the dark, airy space. Oriental rugs adorn the floors. One little table sits in the middle of the room. No other furniture in sight, just large pillows flung all over.

  “Let me see, please.” My hand is in Inas’ before I can protest.

  She inspect my red swollen knuckle before her gaze trails up my arm, around my neck and up to my eyes.

  I jerk as our eyes meet but stay silence, not sure if I’m scared or in shock.

  Her hands run down my arm and back to my knuckle. I watch as she rubs around it.

  “Okay, hi.” My voice is flat with fear. “I’m Grace’s niece, and it is so nice to meet you.”

  Slowly I pull my hand away and turn to leave this crazy place. Aunt Grace puts her arm out to stop me. Inas goes around me to shut the door.

  I’m trapped!

  “Listen, I don’t know what this is, but I need to get back to work.” Or at least get back to the land of the sane.

  Aunt Grace guides me back into the depths of Inas’ apartment. Leaving isn’t an option.

  “I’ll go to the doctor.” I protest, and make a cross on my chest. “A real doctor, I promise.”

  “Now, dear child.” Before my eyes adjust to what’s going on, Inas slaps a wet sticky paste all over my knuckles. “Let that dry on your way home.” She hands me a potato. “Cut this potato in half and rub the ointment off.” She’s so close to my face, I can hear the slight clink of her ear rings. “This is the part where you need to listen closely.” Her warm breath grazes my ear. “You need to bury the potato in your back yard, tonight!” Her eyes pierce a pit deep in my soul and her words sting my ears.

  What if I don’t do it? Then what?

  I grab the potato, and take Aunt Grace by the hand. “Let’s go.”

  I give her the look she knows not to cross.

  “I came here to tell you I was on the morning news, and they’re going to be airing it again tonight, not so you could perform some witchcraft spell thingy.” I point to my knuckle with all the goobly glop on it. “How the hell am I supposed to go back to work with shit on my knuckle?”

  “Such a pretty girl with an ugly mouth.” Aunt Grace shakes her head, and goes about her business as if the voodoo thing hadn’t happen.

  “Aunt Grace, I don’t want some woman touching my body. I will go to a real doctor.” I need her to understand she isn’t in control of my life anymore. Even though I know I still let her have her way almost all the time.

  I wipe some of the mystery goo off my hand.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Aunt Grace’s spine-chilling voice causes me to stop and take note.

  I look at my knuckle and the goo has become hard, like plaster, only it moves with my hand and doesn’t crack.

  She turns on the noon news like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I wonder how she does this. She can be frail and old one minute and in the blink of an eye, hunt down witch doctors.

  I watch Aunt Grace smiling at the television with pride. “I love that Sheila Gray’s jewelry. She always wears the prettiest stuff.”

  I look a little closer and can’t help but put the events of the day behind me and grin ear to ear. Sheila Gray is wearing my bracelet.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  After work, I take the potato out of my car. All scenarios play in my head. All the what-ifs.

  What if I take the junk off my knuckle with a wet paper towel? What will happen? I didn’t. I had to stare at it all afternoon at work.

  What if I don’t bury the potato tonight, at all?

  What if I eat it instead?

  What if I do bury the potato and the red lumpy thing on my knuckle does go away?

  I take the knife out of the drawer and cut it in half, like Inas’ insisted.

  “Here goes nothing.” I take half of the potato and rub it all over my knuckle. The potato is like a sponge and soaks up the dry goop.

  “Ah!” I gasp, staring at my hand. My knuckle is back to olive. Like the rest of my body.

  I grab a big spoon out of the kitchen drawer and race out the back door where I find Wilson reading the paper.

  “What are you doing with a potato and spoon?” He bends the paper down to get a better view. “You should probably cook it first.”

  I know he already thinks I’m a nut job, and this will just prove it.

  I hold up my perfect knuckle in front of his face.

  “What?” Wilson squints, looking for something that isn’t there.

  “Funny. I don’t know.” I inspect it a bit more closely in the sunlight. “My aunt’s voodoo tenant decided to perform some sort of healing ritual. My knuckle was red rashy and now it’s gone.”

  I dig a hole near the fence.

  “What’s with the potato? And why are you digging a hole with a spoon?” Wilson’s shadow is cast on the hole from standing in the rays.

  “I have to bury this potato today.” I put the potato in the just-big-enough hole.

  Wilson lifts his eyebrows and smiles. “Strange.”

  I shake my head, and walk back into the house. I can’t believe I buried a potato and used a spoon, but I really can’t believe I told Wilson.

  It’s time to put this day to rest.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I give myself plenty of time to stop by Aunt Grace’s before going to the airport to pick up Lucy, Georgia, and Prudence. I need to remind her I’m going out of town for the weekend.

  Uncle Jimmy isn’t on the stoop, and no one’s on the street. That isn’t a good sign. It usually means Aunt Grace kicked him out, or he’s on a drunken binge.

  I look up at Aunt Grace’s window to make sure she doesn’t confuse me with the whistling woman, because the last think I need to day is a concussion. It’s shut tight.

  “Aunt Grace?” I knock on the door.

  Nervously, I knock louder, and put my ear to the door. If anything does happen to Aunt Grace, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  “Who is it?” Aunt Grace sounds distant.

  “Me, Hallie,” I yell in the crease of the door, relieved she is okay.

&nb
sp; The hallway echoes the clinking of the locks as Aunt Grace unlocks all eight that she claims she needs to keep her safe. If this isn’t a sure sign she needs to move, I don’t know what is.

  “Hallie.” She opens the door with her arms stretched out before her.

  I’m stunned. I don’t know if she realizes her teeth are out, and her wig is perched atop her head ratted like a bird’s nest. I can tell by her slow walk that she isn’t her spry self.

  “You want something to eat?” She stirs the pot on the hot plate. “Tomato soup.”

  I sit down and look at the hot plate. I’m pretty sure tomato soup is red, not brown.

  “I’m full, thanks.” I turn my head in the direction of a whining sound coming from behind her bedroom door.

  “You need to eat.” Aunt Grace scans up and down my body.

  “No, Aunt Grace. You look like you need to eat.”

  “I do eat.” She looks in the direction of her bedroom. “Just lost all my muscle, that’s all.”

  She’s not going to discuss it with me and maybe she’s right, but I’m sad to see her getting older by the day.

  “Who’s in there, Uncle Jimmy?” I amuse myself at the thought of her having him locked away or tied up for bad behavior.

  “Crazy fool, don’t know where he is.” She opens the door and a little pink poodle runs out, straight towards my Prada sandals. “Got me a dog to keep me company.”

  I throw my feet up in the air, just in case the little booger wants to either pee or try to chew my toes.

  He jumps up, trying to bite my feet. Aunt Grace cries out in amusement. “Get down, little buddy.”

  It looks like the same dog the whistling lady had, except this one is white.

  “Aunt Grace, where’d you get the dog?” I ask.

  He’s sweet. No sign of peeing or chewing once I put my feet back down.

  “Found him on the street.” She’s avoiding eye contact. She picks up the dog and heads towards the door. “Now don’t get any funny notions about it. Just put it out of your head.”

  I follow her up the stairs to the building’s roof. She let the dog down and to run around and do his business. I probably would’ve taken in the view of the city, but I’m concerned. Why didn’t she take the dog outside?

  “Let’s take him for a walk,” I protest.

  I have enough time to do the poor animal justice before I leave.

  “No, he doesn’t like it. Besides, I don’t let my tenants have dogs so I can’t let them see me with a dog.” She grabs him, and hurries back to her apartment.

  I step over a few cockroaches and pick up the iodine bottle sitting next to the hot plate.

  “Put it back. Thought it was dog shampoo.” Aunt Grace put the dog, fighting her tooth and nail, back in the bedroom.

  “Aunt Grace, tell me the truth.” The little fellow is scratching and whining, which tears my heart out.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Did you take that woman’s dog and dye its fur?”

  The little poodle continues to claw and nip at the door.

  “You saw her drag that poor baby down the road. Now I don’t want to hear another word.” Her eyes flash, and she talks to me like I’m five years old. “You hear me?”

  I let it drop for now.

  “Where is Jimmy?” At least he has brains. He’s my only hope for getting the dog to freedom.

  “I told you I don’t know.” She stirs the soup. “Probably off drunk somewhere.”

  There’s no sense in arguing with her. I know I won’t win.

  “I’ll call you when I get back.” I unlock all the locks, taking me a good five minutes. “I know you don’t want to hear me. It’s not fair to treat a dog that way. Remember, you say I’m psychic like my mom.”

  She scuttles around the apartment gathering a few things in one of those plastic grocery bags. Flings it over her shoulder, opens the bedroom door and picks up the dog.

  “He’s all yours.” She hands me the dog, the bag and pats me on the back. “Have a good time this weekend. Call me next week.”

  She pushes me out the door so fast I can’t object, my brains isn’t keeping up with hers, which is unusual. I don’t want her to give me the dog. I want her to give the dog back to its rightful owner. I’ve never owned a dog and don’t know what to do with a dog.

  Reluctantly, I take him with me because I know he’ll be safe at my house.

  I put him in the passenger seat of my car, but he jumps into my lap. He leaps back over the console. No matter how fast I move my head back and forth, his licker is faster than me.

  I’ll find the owner and give him back. Only the search is going to have to wait until I get back from the spa. By then, Uncle Jimmy will hopefully be back and know where she lives.

  “Okay...” I have no idea what to call a male dog dyed pink.

  He cocks his head to the side, looking to me for reassurance. I rub his back.

  “Okay, Henry, let’s go get the girls.”

  He perks up a bit. I think he likes the name. With the top down, and Henry next to me, everything is feeling good.

  Henry wags his little tail as if he understands what I’m saying.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Circling the airport with a barking pink dog isn’t my ideal way of getting attention. But I like all the people staring, and smiling at the little guy.

  In true Hollywood fashion, Prudence is standing on the curb in a big floppy hat, large sunglasses, and sun dress with wedge heels.

  “Over here.” She flags me, pointing to the curb like I don’t know what I’m doing.

  If I didn’t know her, I might’ve mistaken her for an actress.

  Her face curls as I pull up with Henry in the seat. “What is that?” Her nose crinkles and she points like he’s some type of disease.

  “Aunt Prudence, this is Henry.” I know he’ll grow on her like he has on me in the last twenty minutes.

  I leave Henry in the car barking and put her luggage in the trunk. There are a lot of people coming out the terminal doors, but no signs of Lucy and Georgia.

  “Where’s Lucy and Georgia?” I ask.

  “Okay first off, I bought you that Prada, and why’s it in the trunk and clinking?” She props her hand on her hip. Aunt Grace’s china is still in the trunk. She pulls her glasses down on the bridge of her nose. “Secondly, they’re waiting for their luggage. Who are you, and where’s Hallie?”

  “Shut up and get in.”

  Lucy and Georgia come running out the revolving door. My strange mood turns to complete elation as I realize my girlfriends are finally here.

  “Hallie! I’m so glad to see you.” She’s drags out her words with her southern accent she does when she’s really tired. “I don’t think I can live another two months without you.”

  “We don’t know how you do it.” Georgia lightly pats me. “She is high-maintenance. When are you coming home?”

  “Tell me about it. It’s been on a nice break.” I roll my eyes, smile and point to Lucy.

  I’m really joking. She’s never been high-maintenance. Or maybe I’m just used to her after all these years.

  “Henry.” Prudence holds up my new cute little companion. “Meet Aunt Georgia and Aunt Lucy.”

  “What the hell kind of dogs do they raise here in Cincinnati?” Georgia’s eyes bug out of their sockets.

  “I guess you’ve never seen a pink male poodle.” I motion for everyone to get in the car. I don’t think I can wait another minute to start our girls’ trip. “Long story.”

  None of us shut up the entire way to Hyde Park. Henry sits in my lap hanging over the door, with his long fur flapping like he’s been here all his life.

  I let Henry out in my back yard so I can show the girls around. They love the cottage feel of the apartment, and I am proud of it. Even though it was already furnished, I have added a few “Hallie” touches to make it home.

  “Hallie!” There is anger in Wilson’s voice.
“What the hell, Hallie?”

  Crap. Crap. Darn. I forgot about Wilson. I hope he isn’t allergic to dogs.

  “What is this?” Wilson walks into the room, holding Henry. “No dogs. Especially a pink one. Orders of the landlord. Poor guy. You should be ashamed, taking away his masculinity like this.”

  I can’t think up a good excuse at the moment. But Prudence is quick on her feet.

  “First off, who said she can’t have a dog? And real men wear pink.” Prudence gets into Wilson’s face.

  Little does he realize who he’s messing with. A lawyer who loves to test the laws.

  “Besides, who are you?” Prudence plants her hands on her hips.

  I stand between them. “This is Wilson. He lives in the basement apartment.” I completely forgot to tell them about Wilson during our phone calls.

  What little time we do get to talk on the phone, I play catch-up on what they are doing without me.

  “Well, well.” Lucy turns her head, checking him out. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Georgia.” She puts her hands on Prudence’s shoulders. “This is our single lawyer friend Prudence.”

  “These are my friends I was telling you about.” I remind him.

  “Oh, the spa thing.” He nods as though he remembers.

  “According to article…”Prudence isn’t going drop the confrontation with Wilson.

  While they continue to argue, Lucy, Georgia, and I quietly make our way downstairs to catch-up.

  I tell them about Hyde Park, Aunt Grace-including Henry, the boutique, and what little I know about Wilson. Wilson and Prudence join us with smiles on their face. I guess they settled out of court.

  “He’s a lawyer for Proctor and Gamble.” Prudence’s eye brows lift in delight.

  She gives me “the look.” The look she gets when her hormones are on high alert for a potential mate.

  “I didn’t even know that.” I look at Wilson with surprise and a little disappointed he never told me. “You said you worked at P & G, but a lawyer?”

  “You didn’t ask.” He seems pretty pleased with himself.