Eyeing Steve’s approach she simply states, “That one was a piece of work, God rest her soul.” She blesses herself and continues, “That’s a happy man over there, and you’re a nice girl. Don’t think too much, Love. We’ll all be six feet under before you know it.”
Jack comes to my rescue right as Steve asks Brian for another beer. “Such a cheery thought from our lovely proprietress. Help me eat this bread pudding, darlin’. You need some meat on your bones.” He spoons some of his freshly delivered dessert onto a second plate and puts it in front of me. Brian appears with a spoon.
I begin to protest that I don’t need any dessert, just as Steve puts his arms around me and squeezes my waist fat. I stiffen and narrow my eyes at him.
“What?” He smiles and squeezes me again.
I open my mouth to speak and close it, not wanting to flip out twice in one night for the pub audience. “Nothing. Did you win the dart game?”
We all settle into more casual discussion as the trivia contest commences. I hardly ever know any of the answers, but I do offer the correct response to an art question. Steve looks at me quizzically. I guess some day I should tell him about my creative days, but now that I know Noreen was also an artist, I feel weird about it. I still need to talk to Tony. Maybe I should meet him for coffee this week. He knows about Steve and art, and could possibly offer me some information or advice I can really use.
Our little trivia team comes in second, and during the game I am temporarily transported away from my problems. A few hard ciders don’t hurt either, nor does the attention and affection of…oh my God, the game is over and the news is on.
“Well, would you look at that fella? My Lord, he’s quite the young stud. If I were only a few year younger…” Irene cackles along with the other women. Little do they know that youth is not a prerequisite for capturing the attention of that guy.
As the women ooh and ahh over Luke, I am captivated by the sight of him on the screen. When he was on Entertainment Nightly, I watched the show once in a while, but for the most part I was content to let Luke fade into the background of my life. Now here he is, front and center. I hope I don’t betray my reaction with my facial expressions. Steve is lost in conversation with the men again, and I doubt he has noticed the ruckus over the eye candy. However, the other women can’t stop talking about him.
As I expected, the attention has now turned to me.
“Rebecca, don’t you think he’s hot? Look at those eyes? And that jawline. And those shoulders?” Eileen is fanning herself and Bernadette is nodding and salivating.
With a fake smile, I respond a bit too brightly, “Yes, he is a very good looking man. I haven’t seen him on the news, I wonder where he came from?” I touch my nose to see if it’s growing. I didn’t need to say that, as if I have forgotten that I dated him. How do I get out of that once I’m found out? Oh, him? I’ve known so many hot young men. I get them confused.
Eileen is already on her phone. “What’s his name? I can’t see the screen too well without my glasses?”
Irene gets in front of the television, craning her neck and squinting to read the words. “Looks like Luke…Mendes.” She turns to face the group of drooling women who have gathered around the bar. “Some kind of Latin name. I knew it. Look at that black hair…oh my…” She blesses herself again, probably to beg forgiveness for her impure thoughts.
Brian is watching this scene with an amused grin. He leans over and pulls me aside, “You’d think they haven’t gotten any action since the seventies.” He laughs again and surveys the room. “Actually…”
I attempt to mess up his hair as his aunt likes to do, but he retreats. “They’ve all gotten action, but not that kind of action,” I say while pointing at the television. My words trail off as Brian eyes me quizzically. I jump up and rush toward Steve.
“Hi, Love. What’s up? Ready to go?” Steve places his empty beer glass on the bar and motions to Brian. “Close out my tab, will you Brian? My little woman appears to be ready to get home.” He winks at me and all the men join in with their silly comments about how Steve is going to get lucky tonight after all.
Brian hands Steve the credit card slip and a pen. “I think you all have that guy to thank for your women’s sudden interest in getting home.” Brian nods towards the news.
Steve looks up and points. “Oh, wow. Yeah, even I think he’s pretty hot.” He smiles and leaves the signed receipt on the counter. He looks at me for my reaction to his little joke, and I fake another nervous grin.
After saying our goodbyes and collecting all our hugs, we head out to the parking lot and our separate vehicles.
Steve leans me up against my car and kisses me. “You are coming home with me, right? You brought your stuff?” He widens his eyes and peers into the passenger seat.
“Yes, I am coming to your…Steve, I have to tell you something.” I bite my lip and look away.
Steve touches my head gently, playing with my hair. The familiar, glorious feeling almost causes me to say never mind, but I won’t rest another minute until I get this out.
“What’s wrong, Love? You did seem a little preoccupied towards the end of the night. Did you want to confess your secret fantasies about the guy on the news?” He smiles and my heart pounds.
“He’s my ex-boyfriend. We dated for five years and broke up five years ago. He’s back in town.” I look into Steve’s eyes, and then rapidly away.
“Oh, wow. Well, that’s no big deal. It was nice of you not to say that in there, and rub the other poor girls’ faces in it. He looks young. Wow. My little Rebecca really was a cougar. I’m impressed. I feel a sudden and overwhelming desire to get to the gym and have a midlife crisis.” He squeezes my arms and waits for my response.
“I…just wanted you to know. Violet saw him on the news a few weeks ago and told me.”
“So he didn’t contact you?”
“No, I didn’t know he was back.” I look at the ground again. “But I have heard from him since. He joined the Meetup group.”
“Have we seen him out?”
“No, but he told me he plans on attending some events, so we probably will.”
Steve pulls me into a hug. “There is no reason for this to be a problem. So you have a hot ex and he moved back to town? We all have a past at our age. Look at the Meetup group. We have both dated other people who we both call friends. Hell, I eat lunch with Tony a few times week, and I never think about how his lips were once on—”
I put up my hand to halt this line of conversation. “Okay, I get it. You’re not the jealous type.” I manage a small smile and bury my head in his chest.
He caresses my hair and says, “But if I find out he’s been to visit you, he will be a sorry man.”
He feels me stiffen, pulls me back and laughs. “Rebecca, lighten up. I’m kidding. I’m sure he’s a nice guy and I hope to meet him. Now let’s head home so I can make you forget about the Latin hunk.”
I refrain from saying that I will do my best to keep Luke away from our fragile relationship. We kiss again and he heads off to his car across the parking lot. Before he gets in he yells out, “I really do need to up my game, though. I don’t want you having any fantasies about Luke while—”
I hop in my car and close the door, shaking my head at his antics as I drive to his house, where another piece of the past invades our relationship. The good news is that I have so many things to agonize over, I don’t have enough time to obsess over any of them properly.
As I sit at a stoplight, I check my phone out of habit.
“Hey, pretty lady. I just signed up for the kayaking Meetup on Memorial Day. Sounds like a great time. Can’t wait to meet your man and all your friends.”
Oh, come on…I guess worlds are about to collide. Despite my expert swimming skills, I’m still drowning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eating cheap Chinese food makes me feel like I have smeared grease all over my face. Despite my misgivings about cooking in Noreen’s
kitchen, I am going to brave the beads and the takeout menu wallpaper, and cook a real meal at Steve’s house tonight. Surely he has pots and pans.
I arrive laden down with groceries from the fresh foods market near my house and office. I plan on making a nice, simply delicious seafood alfredo dish with crusty bread and a fresh, crisp salad.
“Hello, I’m here!” I open the door, as I am now accustomed to doing when I come over. Since there is no key, I have been given the code to the front door. Two of the digits are Steve’s birthday. I wonder who the other two belong to.
Shaking off the negative thoughts, since I’ve just walked in the door, I smile and receive Steve’s kiss and warm embrace. “Do you have more bags?” He cheerfully marches out to the driveway to collect the rest of the groceries, while Elsa’s nose follows me to the kitchen, undoubtedly excited about the rare fresh food entering the house.
I bend down to pet her and notice I’m pulling off huge clumps of fur. She is normally a big shedder, but this seems like an alarming rate of hair loss. Fearing for the housework and her impending baldness, I ask Steve as he enters the kitchen, “Don’t you think she’s shedding a lot?”
He places the bags on the counter and starts poking his nose in to see what we’re having for dinner. “Yeah, I was a little worried about that. I looked it up on the Internet and it said that it could be anxiety related.” He bends down to pet Elsa and she licks his nose.
I wrinkle my own nose in mild disgust and start putting away the groceries. “The poor thing probably misses Megan. You should really plan on having her over to visit, or take them to the park or something.”
He runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts his glasses. “I’ve been thinking about that, but I didn’t think you’d like it.”
I slam the freezer more forcefully than I intended and say, “Why would I mind you spending time with Megan?”
Steve clears his throat and starts petting Elsa again. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought you might be a little…jealous.” He studies my expression and then backtracks. “Well, not jealous…as if she were a woman…but, it seems like the past is a problem for you sometimes and Megan is…I could invite her over for dinner. What are you making?”
I sigh and glare at Steve, trying to concentrate on his goodness rather than his stupidity. “I didn’t mean to invite her over when I’m here. Why would she want to see me? She doesn’t know me. I just thought it would be nice if you kept up your relationship, since her own father is a useless asshole.” I open up the treat canister, pull out a doggie cookie and put it near Elsa’s gluttonous little mouth. I manage to escape without too much dog slobber on my hand.
“Oh, well you could get to know her, but I guess I see your point. And Elsa is the primary concern. She’s sleeping a little better, but she seems sad.”
When I’m here, she sleeps better because I lay on the floor with her until she drifts off. Fortunately, dogs aren’t like children, so she doesn’t ask for a drink of water or another story. Ryan and I drove my mother bonkers with our endless requests to avoid bedtime, but Elsa has been better. My own pets are also showing signs of neglect and missing their mommy. Last night when I got home from work I was rewarded for my previous night’s stay at Steve’s with claw marks on my dining room chairs.
“You could cut your bike ride short tomorrow morning, pick her up for lunch and bring her back here for a while. Take Elsa for a walk. Remember, I have the big wedding dress shopping excursion tomorrow with Claire and ten other women.” I roll my eyes.
“She hasn’t found a dress yet? Isn’t her wedding in October? That’s only five months.”
Impressed that Steve remembers this, I respond, “It is cutting it close, and she will need major alterations because she is the rapidly disappearing bride. She’s just so undecided. I think Violet is going to hold her down until she agrees on a dress.”
“She’s a character. Noreen had her wedding gown ordered about a year before our wedding.” Shaking his head, presumably at the silliness of women, Steve goes off to text Megan and see if she’s free tomorrow, while I set about making dinner and forgetting about Noreen in her wedding gown. First I sweep all of the dog hair into a pile so we don’t have fluffy seafood alfredo with a side of dander.
With Elsa eyeing me and praying for scraps, I survey the kitchen. It’s just a place to make food and she didn’t even do that, so I’ll probably be using cookware they received as wedding presents. Steve certainly isn’t busting out any culinary skills.
I take a deep breath and open up the cabinet next to the stove. I crouch down and peer inside. Even though she didn’t cook, apparently Noreen was a cleaning fanatic, so the cabinets are immaculate, except for the layer of dust from lack of use.
I reach in and grab the large pot to boil the pasta and a bigger one to simmer the sauce. I had the good sense to make that at home last night. I figured Steve would have the basics, but I wasn’t counting on a whisk. I’ll just heat up the sauce, and cook the shrimp and scallops in this frying pan. Damn it, now it’s stuck. There’s something blocking the lid…I pull harder...there it is.
I fall backwards onto my butt and Elsa comes over to check on me. I pat her soft head and unclench my fist to reveal the item in my grasp. Just as quickly, I drop it like hot acid. I stand up and look down at the floor. I look around to make sure Steve hasn’t resurfaced and reach to pick up the object.
A pink cross pinned to a white lace doily. Plastered onto the cross are the words, “God Bless Noreen’s Kitchen.”
I try to tell myself that I dropped it because of the cobwebs attached to it, but even Elsa doesn’t seem to be buying that story. Obviously someone gave this to her—probably an older, religious family member. This isn’t even a color Noreen seemed to like, nor her style of decorating. Since it’s so cheesy looking, it wouldn’t be anybody’s style. Plus Noreen didn’t even cook. What a silly gift for her.
I shouldn’t be upset, but it’s just another thing. That’s it—a never ending stream of things popping up like little ghosts. The Catholic ghosts are extra scary. I really should ask Irene to come over and assess the house. At the very least she knows someone who could perform an exorcism.
“Oh, Elsa. I’m a bad lady for thinking these things.” I reach down and give her a little piece of bread, and she gazes at me as if the exact opposite is true. “Did you know her, Elsa? Did Megan have you when her mommy died?”
I jump and see Steve standing in the doorway—the one without the beads that leads into the living room. “Hey, are you finding everything you need?”
“Yep, it’s all right here in the perfectly organized cabinets.” I turn around and lay the cross on the counter, covering it with a dishtowel.
“Noreen was not a cook, but she sure was a cleaner. Everything was spotless when she was alive.” He moves towards me and I stiffen slightly. “But you are going to make me fat.” He grabs me and squeezes my body tightly. As usual Elsa tries to get in on the action. Breaking our embrace he starts laughing, “I am on my way from thin and clean to fat and dirty.”
When I don’t answer, he frowns and says, “What? I have spent a lot of time at your house, and mops and brooms are not your favorite things.” Still just a glare. “Rebecca, I’m teasing you. I don’t care how clean the house is. She was obsessed. You know sometimes people—”
“Elsa, get out of those grocery bags!” I pull away from Steve to grab Elsa just as she sticks her nose through the cellophane wrap covering my perfect alfredo sauce. As I grab the food from her desperate tongue, Steve starts laughing again.
“Look at her!” He points at her frantically licking the creamy, cheesy concoction off her nose.
“I worked hard on that sauce!” I toss the bags onto the counter and ball my fists up, trying to count to ten before I blow up. So much for making a nice meal. However, he no longer deserves one. Fat and dirty, my ass.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Elsa, where is your brush?” It’s difficult to stay mad at th
is fluffy girl, but she’s driving me insane with the shedding. I like to brush her, but then that only makes the fur come out in bigger clumps. Megan can’t come over today and I am thinking of making an appointment with a dog psychologist or whisperer, before I turn into the dog screamer.
I root around in the bathroom and find the brush. Behind the laundry basket. “Seriously, Elsa? You’re hiding your brush from me now.” She puts her head down and her paw on my leg. Why couldn’t she be a mean dog? “Okay, we won’t do any brushing today. I know you miss your girl and you’re a little sad.”
Instead I shower and prepare for the morning’s fun adventure. Before I can even think of that, I review last night’s events in my head.
I was able to overcome my anger and managed to salvage the dinner. Steve convinced me that he would be perfectly happy with alfredo sauce from a jar, and went to the grocery store to buy some. He also came back with a bouquet of flowers, which he put in a lovely vase that he no doubt sent to Noreen for their anniversary one year.
I served the subpar meal in the dining room. Instead of attempting to walk through the beads, I marched to the dining room through the living room. I wasn’t up for death by strangulation with seventies décor.
I did want to find some nicer plates to use. The Corelleware in the kitchen with the little flowers is also from the seventies, or at least that era’s style. The plates are thinner than cardboard, and if you try to cut meat on them with a high quality steak knife you could go through the plate and start sawing the table. Obviously when all you ever do is eat Chinese food out of paper cartons, these dishes are a high end luxury item for special occasions, like takeout from a real restaurant.
After completing that rant in my head, I took a gander at the hutch in the dining room. It looked pretty packed, and like a drunk, blind person organized it. I found the messiness odd, since the kitchen cabinets are in perfect order, and as an artist I imagined Noreen’s treasures to be appealingly displayed.
Afraid of Her Shadow Page 15
