Joy and Tiers

by Mary Crawford

  “I can only hope that my mom isn’t thinking about how sexy I am in my uniform when she’s showing off my pictures at her bridge club,” I respond, shuddering for good measure. But, I have more pressing matters. I collect myself and turn to Heather, “Speaking of the military, I need to have a quiet conversation with you one of these days soon, but not here, okay?”

  “Yikes, that sounds serious. Should I be scared?” Heather asks, examining my face for clues.

  “I can’t tell you that you should never be scared, but for now, I think things are pretty stable. I’ll try to always give you as much warning as I can if things get dicey,” I promise.

  “We’ve got to get moving on the sandwiches, they’re not going to make themselves,” Heather says as her lips compress into a grim line.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask as I roll up the sleeves on my shirt.

  “Can you butter those hoagie rolls and toss them on the griddle top. I just want them golden brown. Nothing special except butter. I’m putting them on the French dips today. I’ve got Reuben sandwiches, and Patty melts too. You can help me set up the ingredients for those too if you want to. We need to set up some sort of assembly line. I think Javier’s wife is going to come play cashier for me. That will help take off some of the pressure. She should be here anytime. Thank goodness Gwendolyn has Becca today, so we don’t have to worry about her.”

  I’m amazed how efficiently and calmly Heather works once she settles into the groove. We seem to form a little unit between us. It’s almost as if we can read each other’s minds. I noticed it when we were working on the wedding cake, but it’s even more apparent here as we’re working under massive time pressure. We’re working together like we’ve done it our whole lives.

  By the end of the day, Heather’s little food truck has raked in nearly $2,300 in five hours. She’s ecstatic. After a round of high-fives and hugs for everyone involved, she stops in front of me. “I’d like to hug you too, but I probably smell like a pig that has wallowed in sewage all day. I’d rather that not be the lasting impression you have of me if you don’t mind,” she admits with a self-deprecating grin.

  “Do you have any spare clothes in this thing? “I ask looking around her cramped truck.

  “Of course I do!” she exclaims. “What kind of girly-girl do you take me for? But my nastiness goes beyond just dirty clothes. I have an embedded level of funk.”

  “What if I told you I can offer you a shower?”

  “Then you would get more than just a hug,” she promises.

  “Consider it done. A friend of mine owns a truck stop just outside of town which has what can only be described as luxury showers. He’s always trying to get me to stop by and see him. This is a perfect excuse. I’ve got clothes in my truck as well. We could get all spiffy and go out to dinner. How does that sound?”

  Heather sighs. “That sounds heavenly. My feet are killing me. I’d like to go out to eat somewhere where I can sit down and have someone serve me for a change. Since the game is over, we might get some seating.”

  “You have the keys to this parking lot, correct?”

  Heather nods.

  “How about if we break down your truck and put all the signs and stuff inside and just lock everything up. I can take you over to Nathan’s place in my truck,” I offer.

  “Well, if you want to take your life in your hands. I stink to high heaven,” Heather responds.

  “Did you forget I worked beside you all day?” I ask. “I probably don’t smell any better than you do. In fact, I’m pretty certain I smell worse because I know I didn’t start out smelling as good as you did. So, don’t worry your gorgeous little head about that. After we use Nathan’s super-duper luxury millionaire showers, we’ll be so clean our mamas won’t recognize us anyway.”

  Heather smirks at me, “Whatever floats your boat, Cowboy. I’ll just be happy not to smell like sauerkraut.”

  “You mean you don’t use sauerkraut as an ingredient in the special soap you make?” I tease.

  “How do you know about my soap?” Heather asks, accusingly.

  “You may have noticed I practically live over at Jeff and Kiera’s house, and they both sing the praises of your soap. Can I tell you my buddy has never smelled better in his whole life? I hate to tell you this, but that man’s feet can build up some serious funk.”

  Heather laughs as she says, “Well, I’m glad I can do something to help them avoid some marital strife. Hmm. I wonder what I would put into soap and shampoo for you. How do you feel about Wintergreen?”

  “Like the gum?” I ask.

  Heather nods. “Yes, do you like the smell?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it. I do like it. It reminds me of Christmas. My parents used to get me those packets of Lifesavers that look like books. I don’t like the fruit-flavored ones, so my mom would get me the ones that had spearmint, peppermint and wintergreen lifesavers in them. Strangely enough, the Wintergreen ones were always my favorite. I’m not sure how you even knew that since I just pulled that memory out of a deep hole,” I respond.

  “I don’t know either. I just remember you told me that you like to take your horses to Eastern Oregon to ride during the wintertime. I have visions of you in the backwoods somewhere in the snow. Wintergreen is the sensory memory that came to mind when I think of you. This is the reason I don’t do my soaps and shampoos on a big scale because, I need to get a sense of who the person is on the inside before I can match the fragrance to them,” Heather explains.

  “Wow, that sounds complicated,” I comment neutrally.

  “It’s not really. Once I get to know somebody, it comes naturally,” she clarifies. “Would you like me to make you some soap? You don’t have to use it if you don’t like it.”

  “I doubt I will dislike it. I’ve already sampled several of the ones you’ve made, and I like them all. I’m particularly fond of the cotton candy scented one that you made for Mindy. It makes me hungry every time I smell it. I always threaten I’m going to eat her for dessert after she takes a bath. Let me tell you, that girl can run fast in a game of tag. She beats me every time. If the military can recruit her, they’ll be accomplishing something. I’d be honored if you made me my personal fragrance.”

  Heather grins at me as she concedes, “I still would’ve been making sandwiches if you hadn’t stepped in to help. I would have been lost without you. Thank you so much. So, consider my custom-made soap and shampoo as a thank you gift for your help on the wedding cake and my food truck today.”

  “There was no other place I would’ve rather been today. It was actually kind of fun. Don’t tell my macho guy friends, but I had a great time helping with the wedding cake. It was even fascinating to make the flowers. I probably shouldn’t go around bragging about, but I don’t care if you know that about me.”

  “How did you even find this place?” Heather asks as she steals a bite of my prime rib.

  “I know, it doesn’t look like much from the outside does it?” I reply. “When Jeff and I played sports in college, one of the guys on my team had a family member who owned this place. I don’t know if they still own it, but it seems like they might because the food is still just as good. But, you should’ve seen them try to feed a whole team of college football players. It’s a wonder they didn’t go broke. Whenever I’m in town, I try to come back here to help repay them for their kindness.”

  “You know, for a rough and tough cowboy turned big bad cop, you’re just a big ole’ marshmallow in disguise.” Heather teases.

  “I seem to remember trying to tell you that I’m a nice guy,” I reply with a wink.

  “Well, you’re starting to get evidence stacking up in your corner,” Heather responds. “Your case is looking stronger and stronger.”

  “Does this mean you have evidence to the contrary?” I ask, in jest.

  “Well, as nearly as I can tell, your biggest Achilles’ heel is holding onto grudges when your life would be better if you moved on,” s
he answers pointedly. “You also seem to have an unnaturally strong dislike for the New Orleans Saints, which don’t I quite understand. But I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it someday.”

  “Oh, if that’s all, then I’m in pretty good shape,” I counter.

  “I definitely agree with your assessment,” Heather says as she leisurely scopes me out from top to bottom. The only extra clothes I had in the truck were an old pair of Wranglers that have seen better days and are particularly thread-bare in the butt region. The fact that she doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that she’s checking me out embarrasses me more than just a little, but I try to play it cool.

  As quickly as it started, the moment is over as Heather suddenly switches topics and asks, “I don’t suppose you’re free next weekend?”

  “Aside from watching football and a little bit of NASCAR, I am. Why?”

  “You don’t have to work?” she asks tentatively.

  “No, I’ve got training this week. Then I’m working three night shifts in a row. So, I’ll be off until Tuesday. Why? What’s on your mind, Heather?”

  “I don’t even know if I should ask you this. I’m not sure if we’re even at that point in our relationship. It seems a lot to ask but I am not sure what else to do.”

  I watch as Heather nervously tears up a straw wrapper in front of her. I reach out to cover her hands with mine as I murmur, “Gidget, I thought we already established the fact you and I are friends. Friends don’t have any trouble asking favors from each other. Just last week you brought cookies for my entire station-house, right? If anything, I owe you one. So spit it out. What do you need?”

  “I need you to come to Texas with me. I think I made enough money today to buy your airline ticket. I just don’t want to face my family and all those memories alone,” Heather confesses in one big long breath, her voice breaking with emotion. “Kiera can’t come because of her job and Tara has classes and the dance studio. I just don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if you want to be involved in all this drama. It’s not going to be fun to hang out with my family. Things can get ugly quickly. I can’t even imagine how weird it’s going to be without my grandma there to be the peacemaker.”

  Heather’s speech trails off at the end as she runs out of steam. She buries her face in her hands as she awaits my response. Gently, I remove her hands from her face as I look into her eyes and say, “Heather, all you had to do was ask. If I can, there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

  Heather’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean? If you can —”

  “It just means I have to check with my CO with the National Guard. I might not be cleared to leave the state.” I answer cautiously.

  “Why? I thought you didn't have drill for two weeks,” responds Heather, confusion clear in her eyes.

  I scrub my hand over my face and through my short cropped hair and grapple with what I’m at liberty to say. “I might be facing some changes in my deployment status soon and no one knows how eminent that change may be.”

  I wait for a second as the implications of that sentence sink in. As the news washes over her. She blanches paper-white to the point where she’s almost luminescent as she exclaims, “Oh God! They can’t ask you to do it again. You might not make it home this time. Your poor mom! Does she know? How did she take it?”

  I squeeze her hands. “Gidget, slow down and take a breath. No, my mom doesn’t know. You’re the first person I’ve told because it’s not a done deal yet. It’s just in the pipeline. I didn’t want to get my mom all riled up over nothing. But, chances are it is something. I want to be upfront with you because I feel like you should know what’s going on in case it changes how you feel about me,” I respond earnestly hoping to convey the depth of my emotions in just a few words.

  “Why would the actions of the Army change the way I feel about you?” Heather asks incredulously.

  “I don’t know. I just know what happened to me before. I know being the partner of someone who’s been deployed is no bed of roses. So, you might want to think twice before you sign up for that particular tour of duty. You can still bail out of this while it’s early. It would be like a no harm, no foul situation.”

  “Now look who’s being mean to themselves?” Heather responds, glaring at me. “Come to think of it, you're not being very nice to me either, if you think so little of my character that you think I would be so shallow. I’m made of tougher stuff, Cowboy. Just watch me.”

  I’m a little stunned by the passion in her voice, because, by traditional standards, you might consider this our first official date. Though, our hanging out activities have developed a very date like feel to them of late.

  I change the subject because the topic of the future of us is just too big to contemplate right now. “Assuming I get permission to go on this little journey with you, what are we expecting to encounter?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. When my grandpa died, my family decided at thirteen, I was still too young to understand all the grown-up discussions and the mourning process, so they excluded me from the memorial ceremony. It was frustrating because I never even got to say goodbye. When I go down to Texas, I always stop and visit his gravesite to say goodbye.”

  “I thought you said your mom was from North Carolina?” I ask.

  “She was,” she responds, “but her daddy was an oilman from Texas.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got family legends worthy of a miniseries,” I say as I butter the last piece of garlic bread and hand Heather half.

  “I expect that my brother and sister have also been told to be there. So, you’ll have a chance to meet the whole gang. There’s going to be a memorial service. My grandma didn’t want any graveside service. She used to watch documentaries on King Tut. After she had watched a special on embalming, she decided she was against it. So, she specifically put it into her advance directive and will that she wanted to be cremated as soon as possible.”

  Knowing my dad, he probably has a meeting set up with my grandma’s legal counsel to go over her legal papers. It’s likely going to be a very contentious session. My dad might view it as another opportunity to tell me why I should be leading a different life. I don’t know if I can deal with that on top of the death of my grandma. Just being in her house with her things is going to be hard enough.

  “Hopefully, I can be there for you. Your dad will have to get through me. You should have the right to mourn before any of the rest of that stuff comes up. I don’t understand how he feels like he has the right to stand in judgment of your career choices,” I state empathetically.

  Heather shrugs, “Let’s just say you’re not the only person that’s done something in your past to let your parents down. The only difference is your parents will allow you to move past your mistakes. I think mine are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Some days, I’m not so sure they shouldn’t.”

  I still can’t believe I’m standing on Grandma Lydia’s front porch holding Tyler’s hand and she didn’t even get to meet him. The irony of it all makes me want to cry. We used to spend hours in her kitchen as she taught me how to cook and she would share stories with me about how a big brash oilman swept her off her feet. She told me she and Grandpa often fought like cats and dogs but the sweetest part of it all was making up. I think about how much my grandparents would’ve liked Ty’s straightforward approach to life. He and my grandpa would have gotten along famously.

  As we open the door, Ethel, my grandma’s bloodhound, a dog descended from animals long raised by my grandfather, greeted us like long-lost friends. “How are you doing, sweetie?” I say gingerly as I tried to duck to get out of the way of the flying slobber as she shakes enthusiastically at my presence. “Want to meet my friend Tyler?” I reach behind me to pull Tyler forward, but it’s too late as Tyler is already on his hands and knees in front of Ethel and has her enveloped in a full-body hug.

  “Oh, look at you, you gorgeous thing!” Tyler exclaims. “I bet you miss your mama. But, we’ll
take care of you now.”

  “Tyler! Don’t make promises we can’t keep,” I chastise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to the dog. For all I know, my dad might make her go to the pound.”

  “Over my dead body!” Tyler declares forcefully. I swear my heart just did a somersault.

  “We’ll have to see if grandma had any plans for her in the will. Knowing my grandma, Ethel will probably retire in better surroundings than most people. She might even have her own maid and butler,” I joke.

  I grab Tyler’s hand and walk silently into the living room. Instead of collecting precious photographs and other artifacts of his childhood, my dad is taking an inventory of all the furniture and knickknacks. He’s double checking the value of them on eBay. The whole process makes me sick to my stomach. Before I can even say hello, I have to run to the restroom to throw up.

  When I return to the parlor, all the men are sitting in the room. Everyone is glaring at each other and no one is saying anything. When Tyler sees me, he stands up. I smile at him when he does this because it’s such a quaint gentlemanly thing to do. Before I met Tyler, I can’t remember the last time a gentleman stood for me just because I entered the room. I give Tyler my hand and he starts to escort me to a chair. I interrupt him to introduce him to my family. “Dad, Carlton and Madison, this is my friend Tyler. Tyler, this is my dad, Carl, my brother Carlton and my sister Madison. My mother, Victoria, is around here somewhere.”

  Tyler makes a move to tip his hat, obviously he’s forgotten that he took it off and left it with his coat in the foyer. He quickly recovers and sticks his hand out for a handshake. “Nice to meet you sir. You have a lovely daughter.”

  My dad looks at me in shock as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Yes, I suppose she is. It would help if she lost some weight. You can’t imagine the amount of money her mother and I wasted on fat camps when she was little. We always tell her it’s a matter of will power. It can’t just be genes because her mother is slim and so is Madison. So obviously, she’s just not trying hard enough.”