by Leslie Pike
“Thank you. She’s a little shy sometimes.”
“Well, not today. She fit right in.”
Atticus puts a hand on my back and we walk into the most beautiful home I’ve ever been in. Oh, the dark wooden floors against the ivory walls and the wide crown molding and spectacular lighting fixtures all make for my ideal dream home. One I’ll never have, but still fantasize about. It’s lottery-winnings dreams.
As we walk into the great room a gasp leaves my lips. The windows! The view! It’s that impressive.
“Everyone, this is Charlotte, say hello.”
A chorus of voices greet me in a cacophony of sounds. The dachshund Brick’s holding is put down and he runs to my feet, sniffing and making odd little noises.
“That’s the Colonel. He’s harmless,” Atticus says.
“Can I pet him?”
“He’d love it. He might lick you to death though,” says the grey-haired older woman.
The dog sniffs and approves. I can tell he likes me.
“That’s a first!” Boone says. “The Colonel usually takes his time deciding if he likes someone.”
“Charlotte, let me make this easier,” says Brick, taking the dark-haired pretty woman next to him by her shoulders. “This is Bristol, our sister.”
“Happy to meet you, I hear we share absolutely no affinity for baseball,” she says laughing.
“Nice to meet you too, Bristol. I hate to tell you but I’m beginning to enjoy it a little. Don’t hold it against me though.”
“I’m Grandma Birdie, and this is my boyfriend Grandpa Davis,” says the white-haired lovely looking woman as she gestures to the dapper man in the yellow bow tie sitting beside her on the couch.
“Aren’t you a pretty little bird. Hello Charlotte,” he says.
“Thank you, Davis. I don’t think I’ve ever had that compliment.”
“My grandfather’s a bird watcher,” Atticus says.
“And a smooth talker,” Grandma Birdie adds, scolding her boyfriend with a tease.
He takes her hand and looks into her eyes. “You’re the only bird in my nest, darlin’.”
“Now that you’ve met the family, I’m going to make you a drink. Do you like Jack Daniels? He’s Tennessee’s favorite son, you know.”
“Sinatra was buried with a bottle of Old Number Seven,” says Brick holding up his.
I’ve never tasted it before, but they don’t need to know that.
“Sounds good!” I lie. Maybe it’ll calm me.
Atticus looks at me with a knowing smile. He’s figured out I have no clue whatsoever if I love or hate the stuff.
Oh shiiiiiit! Why did I take that drink? And why did I feel compelled to finish it and the next one he poured? Now my head and stomach are off kilter and I don’t know how much longer I can stay at the table. I feel drunk and I want to laugh for some fucking reason.
Atticus mentioned to his father he was giving me too much, but Boone said a southern girl could down two fingers of Jack Daniels easily. I didn’t want to burst his bubble. This Pittsburgh girl is a light weight when it comes to booze.
The smells rising from the plates and bowls and platters of southern cooking are going to make me barf. Fried everything doesn’t mix well with a queasy stomach. No matter how delicious it is. Just the sight of the spread is off putting in my condition.
“You okay?” Atticus whispers.
I try to focus on his face but it’s blurry. I never noticed he has a unibrow before. The room starts to spin.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
I have a sense he’s getting up and the people at the table are all talking to him at once. They could be talking to me. Who knows? I don’t know if they’re talking to me! Okay that’s too funny. I start laughing. And for some reason the rest of the group joins me.
“Imz sorry. That drink hit me wrong.” I attempt an apology. I think that sounded okay. I should be mortified but I keep wanting to laugh.
“Poor dear! Boone, it’s all your fault,” Grandma Birdie says.
“I only gave her two small drinks!”
“Atticus, get her to the guest room,” I hear someone say.
“Let her lay down,” Bristol says.
Without effort on my part I’m lifted from my chair. Where are my legs? Then another man is on my other side, helping stand me in an upright position.
“Oh, it’s my friend Brick! Hi! I’m a tad bit drunk.”
“I can see that. We’re gonna help you.”
“Mom!” Mallory’s voice reaches me loud and clear.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’m fine. Kind of.” I start laughing again.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Bay!” Paige laughs and hits the table for emphasis.
“Paige!” Brick says shutting her up.
Then I’m outta there, being carried somewhere in Atticus’s strong arms. Brick is following us and so is Bristol. I slip my hand under the skirt of my dress.
“Are you covering my poodle?” I whisper. I thought I said it quietly but from Brick’s laughter I may have misjudged.
“Yes, Charlotte. I’m making sure it’s covered.”
“Do you know I mean my beaver? Poodle is what my grandmother called it when I was a little girl.”
All of them are laughing at me now. And I’m laughing too because I just said poodle and beaver.
We get to the door of a bathroom and he sets me down.
“Let me do this,” Bristol says.
I lean my head on Atticus’s chest and look back into his eyes. “You’re awfully cute you know.”
“I think you’re cute too,” he says smiling.
Bristol trades places with her brother and shoves him out with one hand. I lean back on her chest and look into her eyes. “I think you’re cute too, Bristol. In fact, all of you Swifts are cute.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.”
She shuts the door and in three, two, one, I make it to the toilet just in time to barf.
I hear the knock on the door. Very softly. I take the cold washcloth from my forehead and look around at the lovely guest room. The lighting in the room tells me I’ve been here awhile.
“Yes?”
The door opens, and Atticus looks in. “Is Charlotte back?”
I cover my face with a pillow and groan as he comes to the bed.
“Feeling better?”
“Physically. But I’m so embarrassed. Atticus, please forgive me.”
He sits next to me and takes my hand. “For what? You gave us all a good laugh.”
“Oh sure! I bet your parents are thrilled you brought a drunk to their home. Ohhhh.”
“Don’t be silly. All the girls are in the hall. They want to talk with you. I’m going to go have a cigar with the men.”
“Well, I might as well get it over with. It’s a teachable moment for Mallory. You make a mistake, own up to it and apologize. Crap. It’s harder than I remember.”
“Okay I’ll send them in. And don’t worry. You’re adorable even when you’re drunk.”
“Oh God.”
“And Charlotte?”
“Yeah?”
“I really want to pet your poodle.”
I throw the pillow in his direction and cover my face with my hands.
He’s laughing as he exits the room. I sit up and put my shoes back on. Making my way to the bathroom I splash some water on my face. That’s when I hear the women coming in the room.
“Charlotte! Honey we’re here!”
Walking out I see the friendly forgiving faces of Lucinda, Birdie and Bristol. Paige and Mallory bring up the rear.
“I’m glad you’re all here. I want to apologize to each of you.”
A chorus of voices deny me my chance.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, dear,” says Birdie sweetly.
“Boone has a hollow leg when it comes to Jack Daniels and he thinks the rest of us do too,” Lucinda says.
“Mom, I’ve never seen you have a drink.”
“I haven’t for years, but that’s no excuse to overdo and ruin such a beautiful supper.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. We all went right on eating,” says Lucinda with a wave of her hand.
Birdie sits on the edge of the bed. “I think we’ve all done embarrassing things. I know I have.”
“What have you done, Grandma? Tell us,” says Bristol. “I’ve never known you to do anything embarrassing.”
“This was long before I became a grandmother. And only your grandfather remembers it now. He’s the last witness. I went over my future in-laws house for a sitting. That’s what they used to call a memorial service for a recently deceased family member. Davis’s grandfather had died the day before. It was a very somber occasion.”
“What happened? Did you get drunk and dance on the table?” Bristol teases.
“Worse. I had eaten some dried fruit right before I left my house. By the time we got there I wasn’t feeling too well. Then right in the middle of Pastor Andrews opening prayer I got an attack of diarrhea.”
We all start laughing.
“Oh, no! Grandma! The squirts?”
“That’s not the worst of it,” she says crying laughing.
“What could possibly be worse?” says Lucinda.
“Plugging up the toilet. That would be worse.”
We’re dying laughing at Grandma Birdie’s misfortune.
“I ran to the bathroom, and in Davis’s house the toilet handle was hanging from a chain above the seat. I was desperate to flush before the bowl filled so I yanked on it. But it broke, and the handle came off in my hand.”
All of us are grabbing our sides or doubling over with the image she paints. Mallory and Paige are having hysterics. Part of the humor is the fact that she’s so lovely and feminine in the telling.
“Then what happened?”
She takes a moment and looks each of us in the eye, for dramatic effect. “Then I realized the bowl was backing up. I couldn’t move away because I was still, well, evacuating, for lack of a better word. There I was in my pearls and petticoats, with my feces on the floor, under my shoes, it was a mess. And the smell…oh Lord!”
“Stop!! Stop! My face is hurting!” Bristol cries.
Lucinda puts an arm around her mother-in-law and pulls her close. “Grandma Birdie, I never heard that story before.”
“Tonight seemed like the right time to tell it.” Then she looks at me. “The moral of the story is shit happens.”
That makes her family lose it. They’re screaming laughing.
There’s a knock on the door. “You girls alright in there?” Grandpa Davis calls.
“We’re fine, darlin. Be out in a minute.”
“Birdie, you’ve made me feel better about my horrible first impression. Thank you.”
“Well good, honey because I like you. Just brush it off and come back and join us. We all want to get to know you better.”
Lucinda takes my hand. “Let’s go have a little Alka Seltzer cocktail.”
5
Atticus
Through the window of the Starbucks I watch Brick approach. Two women are checking him out. They stand between cars talking, but they’re looking his way. One’s flipping the ends of her blonde hair in the universal sign for I’d like to sit on your face. They don’t get a look. He sees it all, but just isn’t interested.
Glancing up at me sitting window side he lifts his chin in a silent hello. The soft bell sounds when he walks in and heads for my table.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.” He spots the coffee I bought for him. “Oh, thanks. Need all the caffeine I can get today.”
“What’s up?”
“Ken and Janine are in town for the Firefly Ball tomorrow. They’re meeting me for dinner tonight, and I’m pretty sure it’s a set up because her friend’s gonna be joining us.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it says a hundred words.
“Everybody’s obsessed with your love life, so why not them?”
I get a sneer for my comment. He doesn’t like to be set up, not at forty. But Christ, we all just want him to find some happiness. Taking a sip of my coffee I gather my words.
“You oughta trust your best friend, brother. Have some fun, Brick. And I don’t mean with random one-shot hookups. Get to know somebody for longer than one night.”
He gives me a look only someone who knows me well can pull off. “That’s rich, coming from you, you big whore,” he laughs.
It’s funny because it’s always been true.
“I’m just sayin’. We both need to look at the habits we’ve gotten into.”
“Charlotte?”
“Yeah, she’s getting to me.”
He takes in my statement and I can tell he doesn’t completely believe it. “You two hookup yet?”
“No. Surprised?”
“Not really. I didn’t think she’d jump into that. Even with you. The fact you get tired of women so quickly isn’t gonna be good for her.”
My head is shaking no before I speak. “Not this one. I don’t think so.”
“I’ll believe it when see it, Atticus. No offense.”
“And you, you’ve got a similar problem. You’re not with anybody long enough to get tired. Stay with someone for a minute. There’s all kinds of women who enjoy a casual relationship. You don’t have to marry every girl you screw.”
“Well, clearly you’ve proved that.”
Both of us take a moment to absorb the conversation.
“In the meantime, did you hear I got the go-ahead to catch the game with the Braves in two weeks?”
“Great. I saw Doc yesterday and he said everything looked good for you. Getting antsy to play?”
“If it wasn’t for Charlotte I’d be going crazy.”
“Oh! I forget to tell you. That Tanya chick you took out a few times…”
“What about her?”
“She asked me about you. Specifically, about you and Charlotte.”
“What the hell? What’d you tell her?”
“Nothing. I said you and I don’t discuss our personal lives.”
I chuckle. “Did she buy it?”
“She didn’t have a choice. I never liked that one.”
“Me either. Well, she was fine till she opened her mouth. I need substance.”
Looking around him on both sides of the room he says, “Okay, where’d you put Atticus?”
Then he breaks into a laugh.
“Idiot.”
“Want to catch some breakfast?” he says.
“Can’t. I’m gonna meet with Mom. Check out the plans for tomorrow night.”
“Don’t mention I may be bringing someone. I’d never hear the end of it,” he says.
“Don’t worry, I’ll file it under bro code.”
“Do you know where my mother is, Delia?”
My parents’ housekeeper’s head is halfway into a lower cupboard and her back end is sticking out. Bowls and casserole dishes surround her on the wood floor.
“In the library. Want something to eat? There’s fresh muffins on the counter,” she calls back.
Messing with each other is one of our things and this is the perfect opportunity.
“Yeah. If you don’t mind I’d love some French toast and bacon, with some poached eggs. Oh, remember to warm my syrup, please.”
She backs out of the cupboard, picks up a wooden spoon and looks me in the eye. “I’m going to whip your ass with this if you’re serious, boy.”
Her tiny frame and delicate southern flower look contradicts the truth. She’s a ball buster. I think that’s why we all like her so much. Never did she take any shit from the Swift boys. Bristol was the only one who got away with anything. As far as Delia was concerned the little princess could do no wrong.
I pick up the white napkin on the counter and wave it, laughing in defeat.
“That better be your answer, you little shit,” she says.
It doesn’t matter that I’m thirty and she’s sixty, an
d I tower over her like Godzilla. Her laugh follows me as I head out of the kitchen and down the hall to the library door. Three short knocks announce me.
“Come in,” my mother calls.
Walking into her inner sanctum is like entering a corner of Lucinda Swift’s mind. It’s the only room in the house decorated with no other person in mind. It’s all her. Floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves face each other and the large picture window takes up the entire back wall. A window seat as wide as a double bed offers a place for her to fall asleep or watch the flowering bushes and swaying trees. The coffee bar and a compact refrigerator hold her favorite blends and snacks.
There’s no pictures of children, or baseball memorabilia, no wedding photos or any reference to her art or life outside this room. It’s just her, the beloved books, and a quiet space to read them. Her favorite piece, an antique dark purple velvet chaise sits in front of the carved stone fireplace. Lifting her head, she turns toward me and smiles.
“Hi, honey.”
“Morning, Mom. You’re here early.”
Putting her book down, she rises and comes to me for a kiss hello. “Charlotte sent me a book I can’t put down. You should read it.”
“Charlotte?”
“I showed her my library when she was here. And yesterday I got a package from her.”
The surprise must show on my face because she chuckles and touches my arm. “Atticus, she’s a darling girl. Look at the note she sent.”
With a lift of her chin she directs me to the card with a capital C sitting on the center shelf.
Dear Lucinda,
It’s a good day when I meet someone who loves books as much as I do. Not everyone finds it thrilling to spend hours in the solitude of reading. But as for you and me, we know the wonder of being carried to unfamiliar worlds, with unforgettable characters who become part of us. “Peace Like A River” is my favorite book. I hope you enjoy it.
Sincerely,
Charlotte, AKA “The Lush”
“Wasn’t that nice?” she says.
I don’t know why this makes me feel so great, but it does.
“Yeah. She’s pretty special.”
