Bittersweet Memories

by Cecelia Dowdy

She shook her head, mesmerized by his presence. He beckoned her toward his house. “Come on, I’ll fix us something to eat. I know Doris usually doesn’t get up until seven.” He glanced at his watch. “And I don’t have to be at my first job until seven thirty, so we’ve got a little time.”

  Slightly dazed, she followed him to his house, shocked when he stopped beside a clump of tulips near his home. Snatching up the pair of clippers resting on the porch, he snipped one of the flowers, pressing the bloom into her hand. “This is for you. I—I want to apologize for yesterday. Some of the things I said. . .may have been. . .out of line. And since we’re neighbors, well, sort of neighbors, for now anyway, I’d like us to be friends.”

  The warmth from the contact was comforting, and for some insane reason, she wanted Keith to hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay.

  As he continued standing in front of her, Karen realized he was probably awaiting her response. She clutched the flower. “Thanks. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

  He tilted his head toward his house, again inviting her to follow. They stepped onto the large walnut-colored porch, and Karen observed the classy wooden lawn furniture and old-fashioned porch swing swaying in the light breeze. A loud bark resonated from the kitchen, and she stepped back, startled.

  Keith looked toward her, reaching for the handle of the screen door. “Are you scared of dogs?”

  “No.” She regarded the large brown and white Saint Bernard, its nose pressed up against the screen. “I don’t mind dogs if they don’t bite.” Her voice faltered as she focused on the large pink canine tongue hanging out of the dog’s mouth. “D–does he bite?”

  He laughed, a smooth loud bellow that carried over the early morning wind. “It’s a she, not a he. And no, Suzie wouldn’t hurt anybody!” He opened the door, and the canine bounded out of the house.

  Karen gasped when the dog pounced upon her, knocked her to the ground, and then began licking her face.

  “Suzie!” Keith yelled, his tone filled with exasperation, as he pulled the dog off her.

  Standing, Karen caught her breath while Suzie jumped up and down, barking.

  Keith focused on Karen, his eyes full of concern. “I’m so sorry. Suzie hardly ever acts up like that when she first meets somebody.” His full lips broke into a charming smile. “She must like you. Must mean you’re okay, ’cause Suzie’s a great judge of character.”

  The screen door creaked when he opened it. Karen followed the twosome into the house. “Do you mean to tell me you trust a dog to judge the character of people?”

  Suzie sat on the floor, her dark eyes scrutinizing her master.

  He poured dry dog food into a bright yellow dish and loaded a red bowl with water. Suzie dove into the food. “Not just any dog. I trust Suzie. She knows a good person when she sees one.”

  Keith washed his hands at the sink then dried them on a paper towel. As Karen watched him remove a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, the wetness of Suzie’s unexpected greeting made her cheek tingle. “Do you mind if I use your restroom to clean up?”

  “It’s right down the hall on your left.”

  “Thanks.” Karen exited the kitchen, stopping in the living room, observing the black leather furniture and TV coated with dust. On the mahogany end table rested two photos in silver frames. Lifting one picture, she observed two identical handsome faces grinning at the camera. The boys appeared to be around five years old, and one of them was missing a front tooth. She inspected the photo but could not determine which twin was Keith.

  She returned the picture to the table and lifted the other. The warmth of the duplicate faces made her stare. This photo appeared to be taken at Keith’s high school graduation. The twins’ blue graduation robes cascaded around them, and each had an arm draped around the shoulder of the other. She again could not tell which boy was Keith. She finally returned the picture to its spot.

  Not wanting to be caught snooping, she made a beeline to the bathroom. While washing and drying her face, she wondered about her mother’s next-door neighbor. Did he have a girlfriend? If so, she didn’t want the woman to stop by and find her significant other fixing breakfast for Karen. She dismissed the surprising thought, realizing Keith’s personal affairs were none of her business.

  Seconds later, she returned to the kitchen. Spices lined the counter and the smell of bacon filled the room. He grinned when she entered, his milky white teeth a nice contrast to his nut-brown skin. The effect made her heart race.

  He turned a few slices of the meat. “There you are. I was starting to wonder what was taking you so long. I was about to come back there to check up on you.” He gestured toward the table. “Have a seat. We’ll eat in about ten minutes.”

  Karen was pleased to have somebody cook breakfast for her. Lionel never cooked. He always expected her to make meals according to his specifications. At the time, it never bothered her, because she loved him and wanted to please him. Absentmindedly, she began fingering her engagement ring.

  “Are you okay?” Keith’s strong voice interrupted her musings.

  Karen mentally shook herself. Since Lionel’s disappearance, her friends Anna and Monica said they could always tell when she was thinking about her fiancé. “Your eyes get sad, and you look like you’re about to cry,” Monica had told her.

  She tried to smile, forcing thoughts of Lionel out of her mind. “I–I’m fine.” She sniffed the alluring scent of bacon and omelets, mingled with brewing coffee. “I guess I’m a little hungry.”

  “Good, because breakfast is just about ready.” He gestured toward the loaf of bread on the counter. “Do you want toast?” He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “You look like you could use some meat on your bones.”

  Normally Karen would have been offended by the comment, but the way Keith said it amused her. She smiled. “Toast is fine.”

  He prepared two pieces of toast for each of them then opened the refrigerator and removed butter and jelly. He placed both containers on the table, and seconds later he presented her a meal, served on a paper plate. As he poured coffee into Styrofoam cups, Karen realized she’d seen no dishes in the kitchen. She couldn’t resist asking the question that was burning in the back of her mind. “Don’t you have any real plates and silverware?”

  He gestured toward a closed door at the edge of the kitchen. “My dishes and silverware are down in the basement.”

  She gazed at the door, still confused. “How come?”

  “I hate washing dishes.”

  She shrugged. “Just use your dishwasher.”

  “I do sometimes, but it seems like a waste to run the dishwasher for just one person.”

  He sat beside her, adding a generous amount of cream and sugar to his coffee. When he touched her hand, warmth traveled up her arm. Sitting in Keith Baxter’s home, sharing breakfast, had a charming and intimate quality about it.

  “Do you mind if I say the blessing?” he asked.

  Karen’s throat had gone dry, so she swallowed. “I don’t mind at all.”

  His large fingers wrapped around her hand as he bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Lord, thank You for this beautiful day and for this food. Also, thanks for letting me share my meal with Karen today. Amen.” He squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture.

  “Amen,” she whispered. Lifting her plastic fork, she sampled the omelet. “Oh, man!”

  Keith’s eyes widened. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it!” She took another bite and chewed slowly, trying to decipher the ingredients. “What’s in here?”

  He shook his head, smiling. “It’s a secret.”

  “A secret? You’ve never told anybody?”

  He bit into a piece of bacon. “Nope. Although I can’t take credit for the recipe.”

  “Really?” Grinning, she sipped her coffee. “I’ll bet your mother taught you how to make this.”

  His smile faded. “No, not my mother. Ms.
Sonya.”

  “Who’s Ms. Sonya?”

  “She practically raised my brother and me. If she hadn’t had a husband and family of her own, my dad probably would have had her move in with us.”

  “So Sonya was like a nanny?” His family must’ve been pretty well-off financially if they could afford a nanny.

  “She was nanny, housekeeper, cook, and whatever else you want to call her.”

  “I’m sure having Sonya around made things a lot easier for your mother,” she said, wondering what Keith’s mother was like.

  “My mom died when I was three. I don’t remember her. I think that’s when my father hired Ms. Sonya.”

  “My goodness.” Karen couldn’t imagine not knowing one’s mother. Her parents had always been such a big part of her life that she’d pretty much taken their presence for granted until her father died. “Did your dad talk about your mother a lot? Do you have pictures, stuff like that?”

  Nodding, he took another bite of his food then swallowed before saying, “I have lots of pictures, but I don’t think my dad liked to talk about Mom very much.”

  Karen wanted to ask why but didn’t want to appear too nosy.

  Keith spoke again. “Your mother reminds me of her.”

  “But I thought you didn’t remember your mother.”

  “What I meant was that Doris reminds me of Ms. Sonya. They don’t look at all alike, but your mom’s mannerisms, her habits—stuff like that reminds me of Ms. Sonya.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from voicing her next question. “Is that why you’re so close to my mom?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I never really thought about it before. The relationship I have with your mother, I mean. It just kind of happened after I moved in. I think our worshipping at the same church, and her needing rides to service, might have had something to do with our spending time together and talking. I know she’s proud of you and worries about you a lot.”

  Karen almost choked on her coffee. “What? She worries about me?”

  “Has been, for the past year or so.” He hesitated then said, “You haven’t been down to visit her.”

  “Well, she took the train and came to visit me a couple of times. So it’s not like I haven’t seen her at all for the last year.” She decided it was time to bring the subject of her mother to rest. “I saw your pictures in the living room. You have a twin brother?”

  “Yes.”

  When no details were forthcoming, she asked another question. “What’s his name?”

  “Kyle.”

  “The two of you look like you’re pretty close in the picture.”

  He continued to eat, not commenting.

  “Has my mom ever met your brother?”

  “No, she hasn’t. He’s been pretty busy lately and hasn’t visited in a long time.”

  “That happens sometimes. People get tied up with careers and other things.”

  Silently they continued to eat. He finished his coffee and poured another cup. When Suzie marched to the table, barking, Keith dropped a piece of bacon on the floor. The dog gobbled it up, begging for more. “That’s enough, Suzie.” He rose from the table and opened the screen door. “Go on out there and get some air. I’ll bring you in before I leave.” Suzie ran into the yard, eyed a fluttering butterfly, and began chasing it, barking. The screen door squeaked then banged shut. Keith rejoined Karen at the table.

  She wanted to know more about Keith Baxter. Just as she began settling in and sipping her second cup of coffee, he checked his watch.

  “Well, I hate to hurry you out, but I have to leave in about twenty minutes to fix a client’s sink.”

  Karen fought to keep her disappointment from showing. Since Lionel’s disappearance, this was the first time she’d felt like herself. She wasn’t sure if it was being with Keith or being in a different environment, away from the constant reminders of her botched relationship, that made her feel a little bit better.

  He gestured toward her cup. “You can take the coffee back to Ms. Doris’s with you.” They stood. She held the Styrofoam container and plucked her flower off the table.

  He touched her shoulder. “Before you leave, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Since you’re just back in town, I wasn’t sure if your mom has had a chance to ask you to come to church. How about if I give you two a ride over there this Sunday? I think you’ll like the service.”

  Karen frowned.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to give Keith the wrong impression. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not sure my going would be a good idea.”

  Keith furrowed his brow. “Why?”

  She sighed. “It’s a long story. And I know you have to get to work.”

  He glanced at Suzie frolicking in the yard. “Why don’t you at least think about it?”

  “Listen, I–I’m just not ready. . .to go to church.”

  His frown deepened. “Ready? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Suzie barked, and Keith checked his watch again. “Look, I’ve really got to get going. Is it okay if I stop by sometime over the next few days and talk to you?” He gestured toward her mom’s garden. “Maybe I can catch you when you’re out watering your mother’s flowers?”

  She shrugged, cradling her coffee cup, not wanting to hold him up any longer. “That’s fine.” She went out the door and, once in the yard, managed to skirt a galloping Suzie. She turned back and waved to Keith before heading home.

  In her mom’s kitchen, dirty dishes and a stained coffee cup littered the sink, verifying her mother had already awakened. Peeking through the kitchen window, Karen spotted Keith yelling for Suzie to return indoors. Minutes later, he drove away in his cream-colored van.

  Three

  The next day, Karen pulled into the small parking lot of the unisex salon on Maryland Avenue in Annapolis, itching to unload the boxes of hair-care supplies loaded in the trunk of her car.

  She entered her new place of employment, which was bustling with activity. Smooth jazz wafted from the oversized speakers, and a ball game played silently on the TV. A group of people waited in the small reception area while ten barbers served customers sitting in black leather chairs. One child fidgeted in his chair as he watched the barber plug in his electric clippers. When the shears made contact with the boy’s scalp, the child let out a shriek. As tears began streaming down his face, Karen felt an overwhelming urge to pull the boy into a hug. Instead, she turned her attention to the young dark-skinned woman with plaited hair sitting behind the receptionist’s desk.

  Karen approached. “Hi, I’m Karen Brown. The manager, I mean, Carol, told me I could start today. Sorry if I’m a little late. I assumed the salon opened at nine. But I noticed the sign outside says eight.”

  The woman stood. “No problem.” She reached out to shake Karen’s hand. “I’m Gail. Carol isn’t in today, but she told me to expect you. You got your stuff with you? I’ll show you where to set up.”

  “It’s out in the car. I’ll go and get it.”

  “I’ll help,” Gail said then turned and yelled, “Hey, Darren, watch the desk for me! I’m helping the new woman get set up!”

  A barber nodded without looking up, continuing to clip his client’s hair. Gail followed Karen to the back of the shop then out to her car, where Karen popped open her trunk. Each woman hefted a box and then trekked back into the shop, setting the cartons down at Karen’s empty station.

  Gail folded her arms in front of her. “We have ten barbers up front. They bring in most of our business. We keep the beauty shop here in the back.”

  Karen appreciated the space in the large beauty shop area, which boasted eight black and steel-colored hair dryers. A separate section held a washer and an already-spinning clothes dryer. The two stylists glanced her way, mumbling a greeting before returning to their clients’ hair.

  As they returned to the car to get the rest of her stuff, Gail pl
aced her hand on Karen’s arm, halting her. “Before you start, I wanted to warn you about one of the other hairstylists.”

  “Who?”

  “Sheronda. She’s the heavy one you saw using a flatiron.”

  Karen held her box, anxious to get back inside. “What about her?”

  Gail leaned toward her. “Well, I know Carol told you that you have to provide all of your own supplies except for shampoo and conditioner.”

  “Yes, she told me that when I talked to her on the phone.”

  The young woman continued. “Well, Sheronda will sometimes use some of your supplies.”

  Karen shrugged, used to beauticians borrowing each other’s stuff. “So—that’s typical.”

  The girl waved her hand. “No, you don’t understand! Sheronda will borrow perm cream, coloring, whatever, and never give it back! You’ll have to keep reminding her and practically force her to return your supplies.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” said Karen, smiling.

  Gail continued. “Also, she gossips a lot. So if you don’t want your business making its way up to the barbers, then you shouldn’t say anything around her.”

  “Okay.” Karen clutched her box.

  The girl continued to talk, helping Karen carry the rest of her stuff into the shop. “Since we get a lot of customers who are tourists, we get a lot of walk-ins. Carol says business is never too slow, so that should be a good thing for you. By the way, do you do haircuts, too?”

  “You mean like men’s haircuts, right?”

  Gail nodded.

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Great, because sometimes when the barbers are backed up, we’ll send their walk-in clients back here to you guys. Sheronda does an awesome job with men’s haircuts, but Deidre, the other stylist, doesn’t like barbering, so I don’t send any of the male customers her way.”

  Karen arranged her supplies and Gail returned to the desk, giving Karen the first walk-in beauty appointment. She soon got into the flow of the shop, and she was glad that she had two walk-ins in a row since Deidre and Sheronda were taking care of regular customers.

  When a few whoops and hollers erupted from the barbers’ area, Karen realized that working in a unisex shop would be a different experience than where she’d worked before, a salon that featured a mostly female clientele.