Flies on the Butter

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  Her granddaddy took a swig of his sweet tea. “And if I’m not mistaken, Red, I thought it was your love for children that caused you to take this job of yours so far away from us.”

  Rose studied his face and shifted in her seat. “I do love children . . . just not sure I want any of my own.”

  “I love the way babies smell,” Mamaw added.

  Her sweet expression made Rose smile. Her mamaw noticed her gaze and lightly patted the top of her hand.

  “How have you and Granddaddy loved each other for so long?” Rose asked, missing Mamaw’s touch the minute she removed her hand.

  “I just turn my hearing aid off,” her granddaddy said, snickering.

  Mamaw swatted at him, but a smile lit her face. Then she took her fork and scooped up a large wad of collard greens. “Daddy, you do not. Now, tell this baby girl why you’ve loved me for over fifty years.”

  “Because I do everything she says. What is that old saying? ‘Happy wife, happy life’?”

  Rose giggled. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

  He took another sip of his sweet tea, then held up the glass. “It’s kind of like this mason jar,” he began.

  “Like a mason jar, huh? How’s that?” Rose asked after savoring another bite of her potatoes.

  “Well, see, Mama has the most beautiful crystal glasses that y’all are drinking out of. But she knows I like to drink out of this here mason jar. So even though she would prefer me to drink from her nice crystal, she still always puts out my mason jar. Why? Because she knows what it means to me. She knows it means that she loves me and wants me to be happy, even if she wouldn’t necessarily do it this way herself,” he said, giving his bride of over fifty-five years a wink.

  Mamaw blushed.

  Rose watched their interchange with wonder.

  “And we’re always honest,” he said. He put down the jar, leaning back in his chair, and snapped his suspenders before continuing. “Never have any lies. Never have any secrets. Always tell each other what we feel, even if it means an argument or two. No argument hurt anybody. It’s the silence and the secrets that will do you in.”

  Rose shifted her gaze to her plate and moved the collard greens around with her fork.

  “What does Jack like?” her mamaw asked.

  Rose lifted her head sharply. “What?”

  “I said, what does Jack like? What makes him happy?”

  Rose wasn’t sure if her expression revealed her ignorance. She’d never really thought about what Jack liked. At least not that she could remember. And now they were such different people that she had no idea what he liked at all. “He likes music,” Rose said, trying to offer an answer and remove the pause that could reveal the real reason Jack wasn’t here. But she did at least know he was always listening to music.

  “Okay, so Jack likes music. What kind of music? Country? Jazz? Rock and roll?” Mamaw did a little jig as she got up and headed to the kitchen. Rose and her granddaddy laughed as she returned to the table, carrying a chocolate pie topped with absolutely pristine meringue.

  “So what kind, Rosey?”

  Rose’s smile faded. She stared at her mamaw with utter sorrow, her hands dropping to her sides. “I have no idea, Mamaw. I have no idea what kind of music Jack likes.”

  Mamaw sat back down and began to cut a piece for each of them, speaking to Rose matter-of-factly. “Then I’d say you need to go home and find out what kind of music Jack likes.” She set the perfect piece of chocolate pie down in front of Rose.

  Rose stared at the pie and ached at the thought of going back. Because as strong as the world thought she was, she wasn’t strong enough for that.

  Her grandparents hounded her no more. They just let her be their baby girl for the next two days. They fed her like she hadn’t eaten in years. They watched The Price Is Right in the morning and Jeopardy in the evening. And in the afternoons she and her granddaddy would sit on the front porch and talk about the good old days, when Scout was still around, while they played checkers and Aggravation until their fingers were sore. The laughter those two days brought would have been enjoyed even more had Jack not called her multiple times. She had answered two of his calls briefly, and the rest she had simply ignored. She wasn’t sure if she even cared what music he liked. Because that meant closeness, and closeness meant intimacy, and intimacy just meant more questions.

  Rose woke up on her final morning to the sound of rain tapping on the roof. She had always loved that sound. She pulled the covers up around her and wished for life as she had known it. Because every time she came back here, that is how it felt. That life had returned to what it once was. Yet in her mind she knew that her life would never be as it once was, because another life waited for her beyond the reaches of the clapboard siding and tin roof that now surrounded her.

  She could hear her mamaw scurrying about in the kitchen. The clanging of her cast-iron skillet and the smell of coffee infiltrated the atmosphere. Rose climbed out of bed and slipped on her robe. As she walked into the family room, she saw the back of her granddaddy’s head through the window. He was in his usual spot on the front porch, rocking gently.

  She walked outside. The warm South Carolina humidity could still be felt even through the falling rain. She breathed in the moist, warm air as if it were every beautiful smell of her once-known life that she so desperately wanted to capture.

  “Will those legs still hold up this big girl?” she asked her granddaddy, knowing he hadn’t rocked her in a long time. And this time was very different from those before. Because now she had committed all three sins the preacher warned against—she had lied, she had smoked, and she’d discovered what an adulteress was too.

  “These legs will always hold up my Red,” he said, holding out his arms.

  Rose sat down gently and swung her legs across his as she had when she was little. She laid her head down on his shoulder and instinctively reached around his face. She took his soft earlobe between her fingers and rubbed it gently.

  “You going to see your daddy while you’re here?” he asked.

  His words fell like a weight on her chest. “I don’t go by there anymore, Granddaddy.”

  “Well, that’s okay. He’s not there anyway. That’s just where his old earthly body is. He’s already up in heaven, probably playing checkers with Jesus.”

  Rose felt tears come, burning with anger. “It should be my mother there and not him,” Rose spat.

  Her granddaddy’s tone never changed. Even though she was talking about his own daughter. “One day you’re going to have to quit blaming your mother, Red. She’s suffered enough, and your anger doesn’t make the outcome any different.”

  “Well, it makes me feel better,” she assured him.

  His belly shook. “Yeah, I can tell that it does.” He sat there and rocked her gently for awhile, squeezing tight. She soaked in his love and protection, and they rested there, rocking silently until Mamaw called them in for breakfast and one last piece of chocolate pie for the road. Pie had milk in it, so Mamaw considered that good enough for breakfast.

  The crashing dishes brought Rose back into the walls of the diner. She looked down at the chocolate pie still uneaten in front of her. She couldn’t eat it. It reminded her of too much. And she had had all she could take of these memories and these tears and these emotions. She grabbed her purse and got up from the booth, pulling her shawl tighter. She pulled thirty dollars from her wallet and set it on the table.

  Daisy came toward Rose as she hurried for the door. “Thank you for lunch,” Rose managed.

  “And for the fried chicken?” Daisy reminded.

  Rose eyed her. “Sure. And for the fried chicken.” She couldn’t get through the glass door fast enough and was thankful for the cold wind that buffeted her as she exited. It reminded her of what her life was really like. Cold and harsh and hers. It was what she knew and how she was going to live it. No matter what any memory or crazy waitress had to say about it.

  Daisy and De
lores watched through the slats of the mini blinds as the striking and tormented redhead climbed into her expensive car. They left all of their customers and walked into the kitchen.

  “Where are they headed?” the new cook asked the older gentleman who owned the place.

  “Oh, they do this every now and then. They’ll be back in a minute.” He turned his attention back to the two disappearing beauty-store blondes and hollered, “And that’s all you’ve got, girls, is one minute!”

  Daisy and Delores closed the door of the small but neatly organized office in the back of the kitchen behind them, paying him no attention. They lit a small candle that Delores had on top of the file cabinet next to a hand-tiled cross her daughter had bought her one year for Christmas. Then they knelt down beside the worn leather office chair and held hands. They had both had a feeling all day that someone special was coming their way. And now that she was gone, they knew why. She was a hard one. With a big wall. They had torn out a few bricks with the fried chicken, but there was a lot more work to do. They prayed that whatever had been started in Rose’s life today, God would send in someone, anyone, to finish it.

  13

  Rose started the engine and drove out of the parking lot, spewing gravel from her tires. She turned up the heat to full blast, the seat heater to the high position. But none of it was able to remove the chill that lived inside Rose’s soul. Since she couldn’t get rid of it, she wanted it to become her welcomed companion. Because if she could welcome it, she could find peace with it all somehow. She had learned ages ago that a person isn’t willing to get rid of what she is willing to live with. And she had lived with these demons for so long now that she just wanted them to quit tormenting her and become part of her.

  But something inside still resisted them. Something in her soul that wanted something more. Yet that same wanting was what had led to the dark places where she now found herself. And here a waitress at a diner was trying to make her forget all that she was determined to be with a plate of fried chicken and a piece of chocolate pie.

  “Well, it will take more than that,” she declared to her empty car.

  Her BlackBerry beeped, indicating that a new message had arrived. She picked it up and saw that she had ten messages. She couldn’t believe she had spent that entire lunch doing absolutely no work.

  “I am losing my mind,” she confirmed to herself. “Helen will now officially know it is true.”

  The phone rang. It was Helen. She sent her straight to voice mail.

  She couldn’t stop again just yet, or she wouldn’t make it home until tomorrow. She’d make sure at the next gas fill-up to read through them quickly and respond even more quickly. If she didn’t think she would get pulled over again, she’d just read them and drive at the same time, but she resisted the urge.

  The phone rang again.

  “I’m not answering, Helen,” she announced to the car. But when she looked at the caller ID, her heart officially stopped. It was Jack. She and Jack hadn’t talked in almost a month. In fact, they hadn’t talked since the day he left. The day he found out about Richard.

  The phone rang again.

  Her heart started pounding hard in her chest. Racing, in fact. What could he want? They didn’t have anything to say to each other.

  It rang again.

  She stared at it while still trying to watch the road. “What would I say?” she asked the bright screen blaring his name at her from the dashboard. “Worse yet, what would you say?”

  The name and number vanished from the screen. Her pulse slowed. Her mind, however, was another story.

  The parking garage was dark as her high heels tapped the concrete floor. Her day had been busy, and seeing Richard tonight had helped her unwind. For the moment anyway. But she had to leave. She never liked staying overnight. Not since she had awakened there the first time. Plus, her absence would create far too many questions for Jack. They were dealing with enough issues to add this suspicion to the list.

  The sight of a figure leaning against the passenger side of her car, facing her direction, startled her from her thoughts. She slowed her stride, panicking. For a moment she considered racing back to the elevator. But then she realized the figure was Jack. His ankles were crossed, as well as his arms, and in that moment she knew there was nothing she could say that would undo what this moment had revealed.

  Rose slowed even more. Anger began to churn inside her, pushing toward the surface. As the anger grew, she steadied her pace and proceeded as if she were in complete control of this situation. She walked right past him and reached for the handle of the driver’s door, which unlocked at her touch.

  Jack turned around, and they stared at each other over the top of the car. Her expression conveyed disillusioned disdain. His, despair.

  “You have absolutely nothing to say?” he asked, placing his palms firmly on top of the car.

  “I think me being here and you being here says it all.” Rose opened the door and tossed her handbag inside. “How did you find me, anyway? What did you do, use all of your buddies at the State Department to get the dirt on your wife?”

  He offered a mocking laugh. “Finding you wasn’t difficult. You’ve made little effort to hide your activities. In fact, the day you forgot your cell phone at home and this man’s number came up five times in a two-hour period, I had a pretty good idea. But when I answered and the first words out of his mouth were ‘I miss you,’ I was pretty certain.”

  That remark stunned her. She thought she had been pretty conscientious in hiding her undertakings. Plus, Richard had never mentioned anything about it. But that was something she couldn’t deal with now. “Well, however you found out, this really is none of your business.”

  His eyes registered shock, and he strode to her side of the car. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. In case you’ve forgotten, Rosey, you are still my wife.”

  “Well, I’m sure that will all be over with now,” she said, challenging him with her gaze. Forcing him to make a move. She refused to flinch. Flinching would reveal emotion. She was all out of emotion.

  “What did I do? Just answer me that, Rosey. What did I do to make you feel like you needed another man? Huh?” He was shouting now.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” she said, turning to lower herself into the car.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her upright, making her face him. “This has everything to do with me. And everything to do with you. And everything to do with our lives. I have been nothing but loving and kind. Even after your deception last year, I stayed with you. Trying to figure out what we could do to make this work. To get rid of whatever this stuff is that you’re so afraid of. And this is what you do? You abuse my love for you? Is that all I’m worth to you?”

  She stared at him blankly while a war raged inside her. One side wanted the life she had dreamed of, planned for. The other side wanted this man in front of her to understand that she couldn’t be all those things he wanted her to be. That if he would just let her go, then he could go find what he deserved.

  She pulled her arm from his grip.

  “So that’s your answer? No answer at all!” he said, running his hands through his tousled brown hair. “I just can’t believe this. I can’t believe you just spit in the face of nine years of marriage as if I’m not even worth an explanation. Well then, as you like it, Rosey.” He threw his hands up in the air.

  She remained silent. She didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ll come by the house and get my things while you’re at work tomorrow. That will remedy us having to have any more conversation, since you obviously refuse to even acknowledge what is really going on here.”

  “You have no idea, do you?” Her words came as a surprise to her.

  “No, Rosey! I have trouble understanding insanity!” he replied, voice cracking. She saw him try to fight his tears and fail.

  “Oh, so now I’m insane?” she spewed. “You’re the one who has to have a perfect wife and perfect mar
riage and perfect family.”

  “I never asked for perfection, baby, just honesty.”

  “Well, your honesty meant it had to be your way!” she screamed, her voice reverberating through the layers of concrete and cars.

  He took her arms again. “No, it didn’t!” he shouted. “I just wanted you to tell me the truth!”

  She felt a burning rise up her nasal cavities and fill her eyes. She fought those tears as hard as she had fought anything. “You can’t deal with my truth, Jack.”

  He tried to pull her closer to him. She remained rigid. “You never let me try, Rosey,” he said softly. “You never let me in close enough or deep enough to know what was going on inside you. All you let me see was what you wanted me to see. And I don’t know what to do with make-believe. I only know what to do with reality. And right now, reality is a really bad place.”

  She lowered her head to avoid his stare.

  He raised her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. He coaxed, “We’re in a really bad place, but it can be fixed. This isn’t an impossible place.”

  She looked at him in bewilderment and squirmed out of his hold. “I’m having an affair, Jack! You’re standing here in the parking garage of another man’s home, and I’ve just been upstairs with him. If that’s not an impossible place for two people, then you are the one living in the land of illusion.”

  She saw the stabbing pain in his eyes and wanted to stop herself, but she felt the dam inside burst. There was no stopping what he had just unplugged.

  “You want truth!” she screamed into his face. “I’ll give you truth! I don’t love you!”

  “That’s not truth,” he said, and the calmness that settled over him made her seethe.