Hot Tea

by Sheila Horgan

  “Hold on, you’re the one that was talking about telling her to butt out. You told me that just a little while ago. You’re the one that put the whole thing out there in the cosmos to have to be dealt with, so that Mom would pick up on it, and force the issue, and now you’re just going to run away and leave it for me to deal with?”

  “That’s what I’m sayin’.”

  All I could do was shake my head, “You know, for such an amazingly functional family, we’re pretty damned dysfunctional.”

  “No family is functional Cara. It’s an impossible standard. One born of some little pseudo-psychological-know-it-all that saw a great marketing opportunity. If your family is dysfunctional, come pay me money, or buy my book, and I’ll fix it. Since there isn’t a functional family on the planet, unlimited income for all service providers for the rest of time.”

  “That’s brilliant! Did you just think of that?”

  “Yep! Scary thing is, it feels like there’s a tiny bit of truth in it. Doesn’t it seem like in our society there are a lot of people that are patients and on serious meds, when all they really need is a hug, some tradition, and some family? Maybe some boundaries?”

  “Oh, great, us talking about boundaries. If that isn’t utter hypocrisy I’m not sure what is. You’re talking about moving to another state to avoid talking to Mom.”

  “That’s why the cobbler’s daughter never had shoes and the psychic doesn’t win the lottery.”

  “Agreed, it’s much easier to face someone else’s challenges than your own.”

  “So, isn’t the best plan for me to go home and pack now?”

  “No! Teagan, just relax. We’ll go through some more stuff, get at least one room done a day. We’ll pack up the books, not bother to inventory them, since they’re going to Mom anyway. If Mom asks about the books, we’ll tell her they’re already packed, and because they’re heavy, they are at the bottom of the stack. Once we get the whole house done, if we can’t think of a plan to avoid all this, then I’ll help you pack and you can help me.”

  “Deal.”

  We went to a warehouse store and bought as many boxes as we could fit in our cars. We decided to stop for caloric reinforcements and drove through a burger place, but only for a large fries and drink so that we could convince ourselves we were being healthy. French fries are made from potatoes. We were eating our veggies. If you stop and really think about it logically, soda is mostly water, so we ate veggies and drank mostly water. Rather virtuous when you take a look at it.

  We had them completely snarfed before we got back to Bernie’s.

  When we got there we packed up the books. Half flipping through the interesting ones, but not willing to actually read erotica in the same house as a sibling. There is just so much wrong, on so many levels, with that kind of thing. If that makes me a prude, I’m good with that.

  We moved to the kitchen and used old newspapers and paper towels to wrap up some of Bernie’s dishes. We packed them carefully. Some of the dishes would probably go back to her family in Ireland. That done, all the boxes numbered with the contents noted; Teagan and I called it a day.

  Teagan offered me dinner at that little pizza place on Beverley, but I claimed ankle pain and begged off.

  One of the secrets of having great familial relationships is knowing not to OD on each other. Besides, I was pretty sure that AJ would be home, and no offense to Teagan, but having my druthers, and if I played my cards right, AJ would be much more scintillating company.

  SEVENTEEN

  When I walked in the door, I was blessed to see a rather nice butt poking out from the kitchen. Seems AJ was rummaging in the fridge. Unfortunately, he heard me come in, and stood up. No more butt connoisseuring for me.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi!”

  “I was lied to. Suzi said that at all times your fridge was full of every kind of, as she put it, earthly delight. To date, I’ve found cookies, soda, left over fast food, and something in that plastic container that could be anything from baking soda to cocaine.”

  “Cocaine? Really?”

  “It’s a white powdered substance.”

  I argued, “So is baby powder.”

  “Why would you keep baby powder in your fridge?”

  “I’m more likely to have cold baby powder in my fridge than I am to have cold cocaine. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I’m good with it.”

  He smiled, “It says you are more interested in the comfort of small children than you are in illegal drugs.”

  Or that I do my own bikini waxes, but I wasn’t ready to share that information, instead I simply agreed, “Yep, what you said.”

  He gave me one of his brilliant smiles.

  Melt!

  I tried to sound casual, “So how’d we get on this whole drug and diaper thing?”

  “You don’t have any food in the house.”

  “I have lots of food, it just isn’t in the fridge. Tell you what. If you give me an hour, I can have something on the table. Nothing fancy, but pretty good.”

  “Cara, I wasn’t asking you to cook for me. I’d be more than happy to take you out, or you can point me in the right direction and I’ll prepare something for you, or I can run over to the grocery store.”

  I smiled, a little chuckle escaped.

  He looked rather confused. “What?”

  “You would have just won major Brownie points with Mom. Mom always corrects us when we say that we are going to make dinner. She says that God already made it, all we have to do is prepare what He has made.”

  He looked a little confused, but carried on without missing a beat, “Speaking of your mom, she called just before you walked in. She said that you and Teagan don’t have to go by Bernie’s tomorrow. Something about the police going over Bernie’s garage again. Something didn’t add up when they got the coroner’s report, and since the garage hasn’t been touched, they’re going to go look around. I’m not sure of the facts, you should probably talk to her.”

  I’d lost him right after he said Mom called. More than slightly panicked I blurted, “You talked to my mom?”

  “No, I heard the answering machine. I can’t believe you still use one, or for that matter, that you still have a landline. If you have a cell phone, why do you need a landline?”

  Pure unadulterated relief coursed through my veins. Trying to focus on the current conversation I answered, “Oh, um, I have a landline in case anyone ever breaks in, or in case I keel over.”

  “What?”

  “Long story, but my mom is convinced that if I only have a cell phone, and there is ever an emergency, I won’t have the time or the presence of mind, to actually tell the operator my address so that the good guys can come save me.”

  “Ah, but with a cell phone you can take the phone with you while you run away from the bad guys.”

  “This is true, but how do you dial while you’re running, and what if I’m disoriented?”

  “All good points.”

  “And there’s the whole reverse 911 thing that the cops do, so that if someone escapes from prison and comes in my direction, or if I need to evacuate because of a storm, or whatever, they can call me. Reverse 911, I don’t think they do that on cell phones yet, do they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if we’re going for the truth of it, it was the easiest and most cost effective way to put my mother’s mind at rest. That’s worth a lot to me.”

  He smiled, “I get it.”

  “So, do you want dinner?”

  “That would be great, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “Dinner for two? Trouble? Are you kidding? Dinner for two, I can do that blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “Sounds a little kinky but I admit I’d like to see that.”

  AJ decided to research online eulogy writing services while I prepared dinner and got cleaned up. I took some frozen chicken breasts out, placed their little wrapped selves in a bowl of wat
er, peeled some potatoes and checked the freezer for frozen veggies. Might not be gourmet, but it would be ok. Along with the veggies, I found a package of frozen rolls. While the chicken was trying to thaw itself, I ran in and took a quick shower.

  When I cut the bandage off, my ankle was a slightly scary shade of deep purple, red around the edges, and the purple had escaped the bandage and was headed down and around my toes. I decided I’d live and jumped in the shower. I didn’t bother with my hair, or shaving, but did use my best smelly good stuff, and was back out in the kitchen in record time.

  The chicken boobage was thawed enough to separate. I buy them at my favorite warehouse store. They come in vacuum-sealed packages, two boobs in each of 8 pockets. It’s a great deal and makes my life pretty flexible. I’ve been known to prepare 64 chicken breasts for one sitting, that doesn’t include any of the dark meat, so I need package flexibility. Why my mind was wandering the path of all things chicken boobage is beyond me, but that’s what I was thinking when AJ walked up behind me.

  “What ‘cha thinking about?”

  “Boobs”

  “Mmmm, me too.” He let his eyebrows dance across his forehead.

  I burst out laughing.

  He looked kind of crushed.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had such a bizarre day. First I had to talk about pornography with my mother, now I’m talking about boobs with you. Both a first and a little other worldly. More like science fiction. My mother and erotica never enter my mind at the same time, just like the mention of boobs really doesn’t cause my image to spring forth in anyone’s mind. When God was handing out boobs, I was in a different line.”

  “Ok, I’m not sure which question to ask first here. Let’s start with God and work our way back. Just what line do you think you were standing in?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably the girly line. I like all things girly. I like beautiful nightgowns and smelly good stuff, and I like the freedom to cry when I see a puppy in a commercial. I think a guy should pay for dinner when you go out and I like to have the door opened for me. I want romance and someone to adore me, and I think that Beaver Cleaver’s mother was cool.”

  His smile was contagious. He continued, undaunted, “Why were your mother and erotica on your mind at the same time?”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you? I was over at Bernie’s house. She was like 566 years old. Anyway, Teagan and I decide we’re going to clean out her bedroom first. We get to this huge bookcase and she has about a gazillion books. Teagan is reading off all the titles and authors, and I’m putting them in a laptop so that we have an accounting of them for the family in Ireland. So, we get to the second to the bottom shelf, and there is this huge collection of erotica. I couldn’t believe it. The woman was, like, 650 years old.”

  He stood on the other side of the kitchen while I told my story and dipped the chicken boobs in a mixture of flour and seasonings. He gave me a strange look when I grabbed a beach towel and threw it on the floor, but didn’t comment. I have tile and see no reason to scrub grout when I can take two seconds and protect it from gunk.

  “Anyway, so Teagan and I decide that we are going to be tricky and worm our way out of talking about all this stuff to my mom, but when I call her to do that, she informs me that not only do I need to bring all the books over to her, including the erotica, but that Bernie is the author of some of those books. The erotic ones! She bet that Teagan and I can’t figure out which books were written by Bernie. We may have to read them all.”

  That set his eyebrows to dancing again.

  The chicken was popping and spitting in the oil when I drained my peeled potatoes, put fresh water in the pot and set them to boil with a little bit of salt.

  “And why are your name and breasts not likely to appear in the same brain at the same time?”

  “Don’t be mean.”

  “Mean? How am I being mean?”

  “When people talk breasts, there is usually some quantity involved. I have no quantity. What I have, isn’t even called breasts in the United States.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. You have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ve never seen my breasts.”

  “Oh, but I have.”

  “Excuse me? Did you take advantage of me when I was all liquored up?” I had to laugh. The thought of someone like AJ taking advantage of a woman was so far outside the realm of possibility that it was hilarious.

  Even he had to chuckle.

  “Cara, I am male. I’m a photographer. I work with the female body just about every day. I have a very good imagination.”

  He blushed.

  Is there anything sexier than a man blushing? I decided that maybe the better part of valor was to simply continue with what I was doing, avoiding all comments and more importantly, eye contact.

  I started off to set the table, when AJ caught me from behind, both hands around my waist and said, “I can set a table. Are we going casual or formal here?”

  “Casual, mostly because if we want to go formal, I’m going to have to iron a tablecloth. All mine are about 100 years old and not washer and dryer friendly.”

  “Casual it is. Placemats or naked table?”

  “Placemats.”

  “Where?”

  “Bottom drawer on the left.”

  I took the chicken out of the oil and put it on a mini broiler pan. That way, I stick it in the oven to keep cooking while I do other things. Any extra oil that might otherwise be inclined to stay on my chicken, on a good day, drips off into the bottom of the broiler pan; on a bad day, it hits the heating element of the oven and smokes up the apartment, either way, the extra calories stay off my hips. Even when I’m cooking for two, I cook like I’m cooking for 60.

  I was so busy going through my usual process, that I didn’t pay attention.

  I’m such an idiot.

  I didn’t stop to think for a second. It’s so rare for anyone to actually offer to help, that I guess I was momentarily dazzled. As AJ reached down for the drawer, he caught a glimpse of my ankle.

  Instantly he scooped me up and started toward the living room.

  “I can’t believe you’re walking around on that ankle!”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “You’re done. You have two options. You can shout directions from the sofa and I will finish dinner, or we can go out. Actually, you have three options; I can go pick up something. Actually, four, we can call and have something delivered.”

  “It’s not that bad. I’ve been on it all day.”

  “Which is why it’s a mess. You need to get off of it so that it can heal.”

  “I’ll just finish dinner, then I’ll put it up, I promise.”

  “I’ll call your mother.”

  “No you wouldn’t.”

  He started for the phone.

  “You don’t have her number.”

  “She left a message on the landline. I’m assuming that I can hit redial.”

  “Wow, you’re good.”

  “You have no idea.”