Shoot Me

by Lesley Crewe

  “We’re in the twilight zone,” she whispered back.

  Elsie gave them a beady eye and raised her glass of champagne. “A toast. Welcome home Aunt Hildy.”

  “Welcome home,” everyone echoed as they lifted their glasses.

  Hildy acknowledged them with a nod. “Thank you. It’s good to be home. I must say, this table looks very nice, Elsie.”

  Elsie smiled.

  “Unlike the rest of the house. You should hire a housekeeper.”

  Elsie frowned.

  “You have far too many animals. There’s fur everywhere…”

  Graham suddenly spoke up. “Why were you in Africa, Aunt Hildy?”

  Hildy looked at him in confusion. “Africa? Who said anything about Africa?”

  “I did.”

  Hildy buttered her roll. “Well, that’s my business, isn’t it? Tell me Graham. Are you still with that silly company…what was the name? Butt and Sons?”

  “No Ifs Ands Or Butts.”

  Hildy shook her head before taking a sip of champagne. “I can’t imagine a more ridiculous moniker. I do hope you had nothing to do with it.”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t.”

  “If you had bought the company when you had the chance, you could’ve renamed it,” Faith observed.

  Graham stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork. “Is that right?”

  She kept it up. “That’s right. But why own a company when you can drive a van for a living.”

  “What’s this?” Hildy asked. “Did I hear correctly?”

  Dahlia grabbed a plate of salad and passed it to her. “Would you like some?”

  She took the plate. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Faith, would you help me bring in the lasagna, please?” Elsie intervened. “Robert, pour Aunt Hildy another glass of champagne.” She jumped up from the table with Faith following on her heels into the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “Are you trying to make my life more miserable than it already is?” Elsie spat, taking the lasagna out of the oven.

  “What the hell do you care what I say to Graham?”

  Elsie shook off her oven mitts. “He’s in there pretending we’re together. Do I need him with a bee in his bonnet?”

  “I’m only repeating what you said, in case you’ve forgotten. Anyway, why is he here?”

  Elsie hacked the lasagna with a knife. “I’ll tell Aunt Hildy about the separation later.”

  Faith nodded and kept it up until it was Elsie’s turn to say

  “What?”

  “You two are pathetic.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Why don’t you just admit you made a mistake?”

  Elsie scowled. “There’s only one mistake I made. I let you live here.” She grabbed the casserole dish and walked back into the dining room, Faith trailing behind her, just in time to hear Aunt Hildy say, “Your sister tells me you’re in love with a sheik, Violet. Is this true? Personally, I can’t see it. You’re not exactly their type. They like girls with bracelets on their wrists or ankles, not stuck in their faces.”

  Lily looked at her sister. “A sheik?”

  “Well, that’s what Mom said.”

  Elsie put down her dish and served dinner. “I said no such thing.”

  “If not a sheik, then who?” Hildy persisted. “Who are you in love with?”

  Lily turned several shades of purple. “No one. I refuse to be trampled by convention. And pardon me, but I don’t have to be anyone’s type. I’m my type. Case closed.”

  Slater gave her a clenched-fist salute. “Whoa Lily pad…you sound just like Judge Judy.”

  Everyone looked at him. He grinned.

  “Mr. Peach,” Hildy remarked. “Do you do anything more with your day than handle flesh as though it were bread dough?”

  He looked confused. “I don’t make bread. I can’t cook worth a darn.”

  Hildy gave Dahlia a sly look. “I’m sure he can cook when he wants to, can’t he?”

  “Gosh no. He burns water.”

  “You two deserve each other.”

  Robert snickered. Hildy turned her attention to him.

  “And what do you do for a living, Robert? I draw a blank where you are concerned.”

  “I’m in real estate.”

  “And do you have swamp land in Florida I might be interested in?”

  “As a matter of fact…”

  Juliet poked him in the ribs. “He’s a businessman. And a very good one, I might add.”

  “Doesn’t he speak for himself?”

  “Of course he does,” Juliet snipped. “Speak, Robert.”

  “Yes, Robert,” Hildy instructed. “Do speak. There’s a good boy.”

  He got red in the face. “Now see here…”

  Hildy ignored him. “What do you do all day, Juliet, besides buy pyjamas for your four-legged child?”

  Juliet sputtered. “I take good care of Kiwi…”

  “Kiwi? As in fruit? As in a tiny ball of brown fuzzy skin?”

  Slater clapped his hands and startled them. “Awesome, Auntie Baby. That’s just what that dog is. You are one cool dame.”

  “It’s so reassuring to know I have your approval, Slater.”

  Hildy looked at Faith. “So. When will you let us read your novel?”

  “It’s a work in progress. It’s not finished.”

  “No,” Graham said, “and at the rate she’s going we’ll all be dead a hundred years before it is.”

  Faith paled.

  “Is this true?” Hildy asked.

  “Of course not. I’ve already finished chapter one, no thanks to the endless interruptions I get all day.” She glanced at Elsie.

  “What’s your story about?” her aunt wanted to know.

  “Two star-crossed lovers thwarted by the prejudices of their families and society and how innocence dies in a harsh and unforgiving world.”

  “Very ambitious. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve just accurately described one of Shakespeare’s greatest works…Romeo and Juliet. Your mother’s favourite play.”

  “Oh, it’s better than that, Aunt Hildy,” Slater chimed in. “Before dinner Mrs. W. told us it’s about this nun and a horny monster who do it in a vegetable patch.”

  Faith turned to Juliet with her mouth open.

  Juliet shrugged. “I thought it was. Pardon me.”

  Hildy put down her knife and fork. She dabbed her lips with a napkin before placing it back on her lap. Faith started to say something, but Hildy put up her hands, as if to ask for silence.

  “Let me get this straight. Your lovers are a nun and a creature?”

  “It’s symbolic,” she explained quickly. “You know, piety versus animal instinct.”

  “You’re about as subtle as a runaway train.”

  Faith’s utensils fell on her plate. She pointed her finger at her aunt. “Listen here, you miserable…”

  “Faith…” Elsie rushed in. “Would you like another roll?”

  Juliet spoke up. “WILL you pass me the butter, Faith? I WILL give it back as soon as I’m done.”

  Faith looked around as if coming out of a daze. “Yes. I WILL pass you the butter.” She gave Juliet a grateful glance.

  “Why is everyone talking like a robot?” Dahlia wanted to know.

  “Who’d like dessert?” Elsie smiled around the table.

  Everyone looked at their platefuls of lasagna.

  “I believe it’s customary to let your guests eat the main course first,” Hildy said.

  “Oh dear, silly me,” Elsie laughed with a tinge of hysteria.

  “Dig in everyone.”

  Graham threw down his napkin. “OK, enough of this nonsense.” He turned to Aunt Hildy. “Elsie will have a nervous breakdown if I don’t say something.”

  “Gray, please…”

  “No.” He shook his head. “This has got to stop. We don’t appreciate the fact that you come here and pass judgment on our family, Aunt Hildy. We love and
respect you as the eldest member of the tribe, but we won’t change who we are and what we do, just to satisfy you. We all know you’re an accomplished woman who’s done great things with her life, but you’ve no right to measure us by your yardstick.”

  “I’m…”

  “No. Let me finish, please. This will come as a bit of a shock, but Elsie and I are separated. Yet here we are, pretending we’re still married just so we don’t meet with your disapproval.”

  “If you’re separated, then what on earth are you doing here?”

  “I live downstairs.”

  “I see you’re handling your separation as well as you handled your marriage.”

  “Who do you think you are?”

  “An ex-relative, obviously.”

  Elsie stood up. “Maybe you better go, Graham.”

  “Yes,” Juliet joined in. “I think it’s about time you returned to your cave and stopped this harassment of our darling aunt.”

  “This has nothing to do with you anymore,” Faith added.

  He slowly rose. “Of course, you’re right. What was I thinking? I hope you have a pleasant stay, Aunt Hildy.” He looked at Elsie. “Thank you for dinner. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned and left the room.

  Elsie sat. Hard. Eventually she said, “Please. Eat everyone. Before it gets cold.”

  Lily threw down her napkin. “I don’t feel very well. I’m going to my…upstairs.” She left the same way her father did.

  Dahlia sniffed. “I can’t eat either. Sorry.” She rose from her chair. “Are you coming, Slater?”

  He looked around in a panic. “Can’t I eat my dinner first?”

  “Slater.”

  He got up quickly, grabbed three rolls and left with Dahlia. Elsie smiled weakly at those left at the table. Hildy dug into her lasagna. “More for us.”

  Later that night, when Faith went upstairs, she smoked four cigarettes in a row before she had the courage to sit at her computer and reread the first chapter.

  Shit.

  Highlight. Delete. She cried herself to sleep.

  Juliet and Robert headed for home as soon as dinner was over. They didn’t say much as they drove down Oxford Street toward Bayers Road.

  Finally Robert sighed, “What a lousy evening.”

  Juliet groaned in agreement. “I can’t believe I spent a fortune and got nothing but heartburn in return.”

  “Is all this really necessary? I mean, how rich is the old bitch?”

  “So rich we have to lick her boots.”

  “Well, that’s just wonderful. Talk about indigestion.”

  Dahlia and Slater sat on the front porch swing. The street was quiet and the house was dark. It was a warm, velvety night, perfect for curling up together. Dahlia sighed and cuddled up closer to her man. “That was a disaster.”

  “Total bummer.”

  “Why do adults argue all the time? They ruin everything. Aunt Hildy was great with just us.”

  “I totally get her.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I know she likes you. She said your bum was quite something.”

  A worried look crossed his face. “That’s sort of gross.”

  She smiled at him. “She didn’t mean it like that, you big dope.”

  “Hey, I knew that.”

  Dahlia shivered. “Gosh. I better go in. It’s late.” She kissed him goodnight. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby doll. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  Dahlia watched him sprint across the lawn, hop in the car and gun it down the street. He blew the horn a couple of times. The grouch across the way opened his window. “Will you tell that knucklehead to knock it off with the horn? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  “Sorry Mr. Mooney.”

  Dahlia whistled for Flower, who charged up the stairs from the front hedge she liked to root around in. Once inside, Dahlia locked the door and went upstairs to her room. She forgot Lily would be there.

  “This is weird,” she said to her sister.

  Lily lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. “Tell me about it. You have so much crap, there’s no room for my stuff.”

  “Why not go in the guest room then?” She waited for an answer but Lily stayed quiet.

  Dahlia pulled off her sweater and kicked away her jeans, then rummaged in her drawer for a pair of pyjamas. “Don’t worry. I’ll put a lot of it in the sewing room. I have to pack some things anyway.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. I know you’re leaving.”

  The misery in Lily’s voice made Dahlia stop and go sit with her sister. “Don’t be sad, Lil. I’ll always come back. We won’t go far.”

  Lily sat up. “I don’t want to be here in this house by myself. I’ll be lonely.”

  Dahlia reached out and held her sister’s hand. “I’ll miss you too.”

  Lily looked down.

  “Is there something else? Besides me leaving? Is it Mom and Dad?”

  She still wouldn’t look up.

  “Out with it.”

  Lily raised her head and chewed the side of her thumb. “How come nobody likes me?”

  Dahlia was astonished. “Everyone likes you. You have friends.”

  “And not one boyfriend.”

  “True.”

  “See! I’m a loser.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You just need to…”

  “To what?”

  She looked at her sister’s bubble gum hair and the four silver rings in her ears. “Be more approachable. You need to glam yourself up a bit. The pink thing doesn’t work obviously. But it’s more than that. You’ve got to stop wearing skater clothes and start wearing lycra.”

  “That is such a load of garbage. Why should I tart myself up so someone will notice me?”

  “Okay then. Whatever,” Dahlia sighed. She started to leave but her sister pulled her back.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this but…can you dye my hair?

  “Not if you want green or orange.”

  Lily smirked. “How about burgundy?”

  She smiled with relief. “That’s better. Thank God. I didn’t want to walk down the aisle and have to compete with your head.”

  Just before turning in, Elsie snuck downstairs and knocked on the basement door. Graham took his time before opening it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I can’t help you. You’re on your own. Remember?”

  She pulled her bathrobe belt tighter. “Fine. I only came…”

  “I know why you came. To make sure I know you’re the victim in all this.”

  “You are such a creep.”

  He laughed. “So you always say. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to bed now. Unless you’d like to join me? You might want to work off a little of that frustration.”

  She reached out and shoved him. “You jerk.”

  He regained his balance and put his face next to hers. “Why do you keep finding excuses to come down here in your bathrobe, night after night? So I can pull it off?”

  She was horrified. “I don’t come down here night after night.”

  “Have you got anything on under that?”

  She looked down and grabbed her robe, feeling her own nakedness. “Of course I do.”

  He put both hands through his hair. “Listen Elsie, it’s over. Let’s just get on with our lives because I can’t stand this. I’ve got to move out. This arrangement’s not working.”

  “No kidding. I come down here to apologize for my aunt and you turn it into something else. Go then. It’ll be a relief to bring a man back here without you hanging around.”

  Graham stood very still. “Is that right? Well, if that’s the case, I’m sure you won’t mind if I entertain a few lady friends before I go. It may take a few weeks before I can find a new place.”

  She fumbled for a balled-up wad of Kleenex in her pocket. “Entertain who you like. I could care less
. I’m sure they’re lined up down the block as we speak.”

  He pointed at her. “You have no idea. If I made a call this very minute, I’d have a woman in my bed so fast your head would spin.”

  Elsie felt her throat close over. She swallowed a few times before she finally said, “I don’t believe you.”

  He walked to the phone, took a scrap of paper out of his pocket, and dialed.

  “Hi. It’s Graham…yeah, I’m sure…I know it’s late but would…half an hour? Where? Okay. I’ll see you then.”

  He hung up and looked at her.

  “Goodnight Elsie.”

  She turned on her heel, stomped up three flights of stairs. When she shut her bedroom door, off came her robe and on went an equally tatty flannel nightgown. She threw herself in the old armchair by the window and hugged her knees to her chin.

  “You are one stupid bastard, Graham Brooks. I could care less who you take to bed, just as long as it’s not me.”

  While she stewed, she stared at her toes. They were a mess. “I don’t even have time to go for a bloody pedicure. And what’s worse, I’m sitting here talking to myself.” She got up and went over to the bedside table, yanked open the drawer and rooted around for her nail clippers. Bouncing back on the bed, she grabbed her own foot and started to clip. “I don’t know why I’m bothering. It’s not like anyone’s going to even see my stupid feet. When do I ever get to go to dinner with pretty sandals on?”

  The question hung in the air. She stopped clipping. What was to stop her from going out to dinner wearing nice strappy shoes? It wasn’t against the law. If stupid Graham could rendezvous with some bimbo in the middle of night, she was certainly allowed to go to a fancy restaurant and show her toes. But with who?

  She threw the clippers across the room and yanked the duvet over her head. She kicked her feet as hard as she could and had her own private temper tantrum.

  Graham was furious with Elsie. Here he was at midnight sitting in the living room of a woman he barely knew. All he wanted to do was go to bed—and if Bunny got her way that’s exactly what would happen.

  He loved sex as much as the next guy, but frankly he was out of practice and not in the mood. He found Bunny’s note in his jacket pocket that morning at work. Bunny Hopkins, emphasis on the Bunny Hop.

  And now here he was, necking up a storm with a woman whose gigantic breasts made it nearly impossible for him to reach around her. It amounted to too much work, not to mention the fact that her lip gloss smelled like apricots.