Muddy Bottom

by Ashley Farley

  Hannah rummages through the items. “I’d love to have some of this stuff for my apartment, but how will I get it to California?” Hannah realizes her mistake too late. She has graduated from college, and she’s having a baby. She’s supposed to be self-sufficient. Yet she hasn’t given the first thought to the logistics of moving across country with a newborn.

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you accepted a job in California.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Okay? If Dad were here, he’d rent a U-Haul and drive out with me.”

  “Since he’s not here, we’ll come up with another plan.” Birdie folds her arms over her chest, the sheet of stickers dangling from her fingertips. “You could look into shipping them, although that’s likely to be expensive. I’ve rented a miniwarehouse. The apartment is too small for all of our furniture. We can store whatever you want to keep in the warehouse until you’re ready to send for it.”

  “Whatever.” Hannah storms off, taking the stairs two at a time as she dashes up to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she collapses on her four-poster bed.

  This cheerful room has been her safe haven all her life. Before long, some other little girl will claim it as her own. Will she replace the plush green carpet and cover the yellow walls with pink or purple paint? Hannah’s eyes travel the room. What’s she supposed to do with all her possessions? She spent twenty-one years accumulating this stuff. Trophies and swim team ribbons. Stuffed animals and her collection of hats. Should she throw it all away? Save any of it for the baby? Does her mother expect Hannah to sell her dollhouse, the one her father made for her, in the yard sale?

  Hannah needs to come up with a legitimate plan for her move, so she’s not caught off guard the next time Birdie asks about it. Her new job starts in mid-September. Will she stay on Palmetto Island through August and fly out with the baby the week before? When is it safe for a newborn to travel by air? She pulls her phone out of her pocket and googles her question. The consensus is that, as long as mother and baby are healthy, the baby can fly on an airplane as early as two weeks of age. She’ll probably connect through Atlanta or Dallas. She envisions herself lugging a baby and luggage through the airport. The plane ride itself will be long. What if the baby screams the whole way? And what will she do when she arrives in San Diego? No one will meet her at the airport. She’ll take an Uber to . . . to where? She knows the office address. She’ll use Zillow to find a place to rent nearby. But she can’t take a baby to an apartment with no furniture. She’ll stay in a hotel for a few days until she can buy the basic furniture. She’ll sell her Jeep and purchase a new car. There. She has a plan. But all this will cost money. She needs to get a summer job as soon as possible.

  Overwhelmed by all the changes and exhausted from her long drive, Hannah closes her eyes and imagines being with her father, their kayaks skimming across the water at dawn. She dozes off and wakes to the sound of her mother calling her to dinner. Rolling off the bed, she goes across the hall to the bathroom where she splashes cold water on her face, combs her fingers through her long hair, and ties it back into a ponytail.

  Her mom is waiting for her at the table. Sitting down at her place, Hannah studies the plate of food in front of her—quiche and her favorite salad of baby greens, crispy prosciutto, and honeydew melon. She stopped for lunch in North Carolina, but that was hours ago, and she’s suddenly ravished.

  Birdie offers the blessing, a responsibility that once belonged to her father, and Hannah forks off a bite of quiche. The filling is rich—crab and eggs and Swiss cheese—and the crust light and flaky. She’s eaten her mother’s crab quiche before, but this is richer, more flavorful. Birdie, the new baker in town, has upped her game.

  But no compliments to Birdie are forthcoming. She’s too mad at her mother for selling the house. “When do we have to be out of the house?”

  “The yard sale is Saturday. The movers come on Monday.”

  “Since today is Wednesday, there’s no point in me unloading my car. Should I take my stuff to your new apartment?”

  Birdie smiles. “I have a load ready to take myself. We’ll go tomorrow after lunch, and I’ll show you around.”

  “Okay,” Hannah says and finishes her meal in silence.

  This is the first time she and Birdie have eaten dinner together since New Year’s. Something is missing. Other than her dad. She looks around the room. The Grey Goose bottle is absent from the pine hutch. Her mother is drinking sweet tea instead of vodka. Birdie is on her best behavior for Hannah’s first night back.

  While doing dishes together afterward, her mother says, “I spoke to Jonathan. He’s agreed to extend your health care policy until the end of the year. I’ll be getting health care through the bakery once I officially take over the business at the end of the month. Since your insurance with your new job doesn’t start until September, I wanted to make certain you’re covered when the baby comes.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Health care insurance is another one of those things Hannah hasn’t considered. Until now, her involvement in her insurance has been limited to presenting her card to the receptionist at doctors’ appointments. Her heart sinks. When she fills out the forms with her new employer, she must list the baby as a dependent to get health care for him or her. Then everyone in the human resources department at Sandman will know she had a baby over the summer. Word will spread rapidly throughout the firm, and Jeff Brandon will find out. He can’t fire her, can he? Surely, there’s a law against that kind of discrimination. Even so, she lied to him when she told him she was spending the summer in Europe. A black mark against her before she even has her first day on the job.

  After dinner, Birdie brews a cup of chamomile tea and takes it outside to the back porch. The days are longer now, and the sun has begun its descent over the horizon. Sunset views will be even better from her second-floor windows at the new apartment.

  She stayed at Max’s apartment until a few days ago when she returned home to prepare for the yard sale and move. The lonely memories in this house overshadow the good ones. She never realized how unhappy she was in her marriage. In her life.

  Birdie misses her best friend, their long walks, deep talks, and easy companionship. Max has helped her stay sober for eighty-two days, some of them easier than others. Since coming home, she’s had to fight to ignore old habits. Countless times, she’s found herself standing at the pine hutch, looking for the Grey Goose bottle. Once, she even went as far as to check her old hiding places. But now, with Hannah home, the urge to drink is even worse.

  She picks up her phone from the arm of the rocker and clicks on Max’s number. Max answers on the second ring. “It’s your favorite head case calling for her daily pep talk. Hannah’s home. If you come for a visit, bring your hacksaw. You’ll need it to cut the tension between us.”

  Max chuckles. “You expected that, honey. Remember what we talked about.”

  “Of course. Be patient. Think before I speak. Be a good listener. Don’t judge. I’ve broken all four rules already. I should’ve told her about selling the house and buying the bakery before she came home.”

  “You mean you didn’t? Oh, Birdie. You have so much to learn. Telling her ahead of time would’ve given her a chance to adjust. Which would’ve made her homecoming less awkward.”

  Tears blur Birdie’s vision. “I know, Max. But I was scared Hannah would change her mind about coming home for the summer if she found out she had to live in a two-bedroom apartment with me. I have three months to mend our relationship. If I fail, I may never see her again when she moves out to California.”

  “Then don’t fail.”

  “As if it were that easy. She’s so hostile toward me. And holding my tongue is proving harder than I thought it would be. She has no clue what she’s getting herself into. Not only in having a baby and being a single parent but in moving to a faraway strange city where she doesn’t know a soul.”

  “She’s moving to San Diego, not Bangkok. FYI, they speak English in C
alifornia. She’s a likable kid. She’ll make friends in no time.”

  Birdie frowns. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours,” Max says. “And hers. I want what’s best for both of you. If she has her heart set on California, you have to let her go.”

  Birdie sighs. “But she knows so little about the real world. When I told her Jonathan extended her health insurance coverage until the end of the year, she looked at me with a blank face, as though she never considered who would pay the medical bills when the baby comes.”

  “She’s a child having a child. She needs her mama right now.”

  Birdie blows a strand of hair off her forehead. “And I want to be here for her. I truly do. If only I didn’t have my own problems to deal with. Hannah has always looked up to you. Maybe you can get through to her.”

  “I will certainly try.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so needy right now.”

  In a cheerful voice, Max says, “As the saying goes, payback is hell.”

  “I hope you’re never as down and out as I am right now.”

  “Correction,” Max says. “You were down and out. You’re on the way up, to a brighter future.”

  “You’re the best, Maxie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Birdie hangs up with Max. As she’s getting to her feet, she glimpses movement through the kitchen window. Was that Hannah? Was her daughter eavesdropping on her conversation with Max? Did she overhear Birdie expressing doubt about whether she’s prepared for the real world? She and Hannah are definitely not off to a great start.

  Birdie doesn’t see her daughter again until she emerges from her room with three large boxes around noon the next day. Refusing Birdie’s offer of help, Hannah wrestles the boxes down the stairs to the family room. She kicks the box with stuffed animals peeking through the open lid. “This stuff is for the yard sale. The other two go to the warehouse.”

  Birdie hands Hannah a sheet of stickers. “Price low for quick sale. Whatever money you make, you get to keep.”

  “How generous of you,” Hannah says, snatching the sheet of stickers. “I’ll put it toward paying my medical expenses.”

  Birdie’s face falls. So, she did overhear her phone conversation with Max.

  Hannah peels off a sticker and places it on an old boom box. “What did you do with all Dad’s stuff?”

  “I burned his clothes. I’m selling the rest.”

  Hannah’s head jerks up. “You burned Dad’s clothes. Are you crazy? His suits were custom-tailored.”

  “If he’d wanted them, he would’ve taken them with him. It’s been four months. He’s not coming back, Hannah.”

  Hannah glares at Birdie. “You don’t know that for sure. You can’t sell his hunting and fishing equipment. That stuff is worth a fortune. And one of those fishing rods is mine. Wait!” Hannah spins on the heels of her flip-flops and runs to the kitchen window. “Where’s the boat? Did you get rid of it, too?”

  Birdie joins her at the window. “No, Hannah. I didn’t sell the boat. I’m having the bottom painted, and the motor serviced before summer. My new building comes with its own slip at the marina. They even provide racks for kayaks.”

  “As if that makes up for not having our own dock and our own rack for kayaks.”

  She angles her body toward Hannah. “I know this is a lot of change at once. But we’ll get through it together.” When Birdie moves to tuck a lock of Hannah’s shiny mahogany hair behind her ear, Hannah slaps her hand away.

  Be patient, Birdie warns herself. She steps away from her daughter. “I’ve already eaten lunch. Why don’t you fix yourself a sandwich while I finish loading my car? Then you can follow me over to the apartment. I’ll show you the bakery and our boat slip at the marina.”

  Hannah is grateful for the opportunity to drive herself to the new apartment. It was easier when she was away at school. When she didn’t have to see her mom every day. Where she wasn’t surrounded by so many memories of her dad.

  Hannah overheard her mom on the phone last night. She was no doubt talking to Max, her only friend. Birdie doesn’t think Hannah can cut it in the real world, but Hannah intends to prove her wrong. She’s only a kid. She has a lot to learn. But she’ll figure it out as she goes.

  Driving down Ocean Avenue, the main street in their small downtown area, is like traveling back to a time Hannah is too young to remember but has seen in movies. Some businesses have been in the same families for generations. There’s Freeman’s Hardware with racks of flowering plants displayed out front. And Scoop’s Parlor boasting round tables with yellow umbrellas on the sidewalk where customers enjoy double-decker ice cream cones. She passes the women’s boutique, new and used bookstore, and a handful of antique shops, some with higher quality merchandise than others.

  Hannah longs to continue straight over the causeway to Palmetto Beach, where charming old cottages dot both the ocean and inlet sides of the road. She has fond memories of high school bonfires and surf casting for blues with her father. A vision pops into her head of a little girl and her mom building sandcastles. Is that little girl Hannah? And the mama Birdie? Did they spend days at the beach together when she was a child? Were they ever close? Hannah doesn’t remember.

  Hannah clears the green light and turns on her blinker. She passes Johnson’s Pharmacy—the town’s original drug store with an old-fashioned lunch counter— and follows her mother’s car down a narrow alley to a small parking lot shared by bakery and pharmacy employees. She joins her mother at the back door, and they enter a small room with wall hooks for coats, a set of built-in wooden lockers, and a staircase leading to the second floor. In the adjacent kitchen, a woman with dark auburn hair secured at the back of her head in a tight bun stands at an enormous mixing bowl.

  Birdie calls out to the woman—Sadie is her name—who waves in return.

  Hannah trails her mother up the stairs to a large sitting room. She falls immediately in love with the space, the exposed brick wall along one side of the room and natural light spilling in through oversized windows onto worn wooden floors. The room would make an excellent photography studio.

  She looks over at her mom who is waiting for her reaction. “You mentioned it was small. You didn’t say it was a shoebox.” She feels a stab of guilt for intentionally being mean. Why can’t she admit the apartment is fab?

  Birdie’s lips turn down. “Think of it as cozy.”

  Hannah gestures at a set of cabinets with a sink and undercounter refrigerator. “Is that seriously the kitchen?”

  “We have a fully stocked spacial kitchen with commercial appliances downstairs. A kitchenette is all we need up here.” Birdie moves over to the brick wall. “I thought we’d put our kitchen table along this wall and arrange the furniture in the living area to take advantage of the view.”

  “Lovely.” With her mother on her heels, Hannah wanders down a short hallway to a large bedroom with the same windows and spectacular light.

  “The two bedrooms are identical,” Birdie says. “You can have whichever one you want.”

  “What difference does it make if they’re identical?” At the window, Hannah stares out at the boats in the marina. Living above the bakery definitely has perks. She’s always loved the boardwalk area with its eclectic mixture of seafood restaurants and bars.

  Continuing her tour, she turns her nose up when she sees the bathroom that separates the two bedrooms. “Are you kidding me? We have to share a bathroom?”

  Her mother’s expression turns icy. “No, Hannah. We don’t have to share a bathroom. You’re free to rent your own apartment or live with a friend. But this is the best I can offer right now. You are not the only one facing challenges. I quit drinking and—”

  “Ha. For how long?”

  “I hope forever. But I’m taking it one day at a time. Max is helping and I’ve started going to AA meetings two nights a week.”

  “Good luck with that,” Hannah says in a doubtful tone. What is wrong with her? She wan
ted her mom to quit drinking. The problem is, it’s too little too late. If her mom had quit drinking sooner, her dad would still be here.

  They leave the bedroom and go downstairs. In the kitchen, her mother introduces her to Sadie. “Sadie’s been working at the bakery for ten years,” Birdie explains. “Bless her soul, she got stuck with the job of training me.”

  Sadie’s smile is warm. “You’re doing great, Birdie.” She turns to Hannah and studies her. “Aren’t you a pretty thing? I see the resemblance.”

  “Actually, I look like my dad.”

  “Then he must be a handsome fella,” Sadie says, making Hannah feel all the more guilty for acting like a spoiled brat to a woman she’s just met. Hannah blames her foul mood on hormones, but she knows it’s much more than that. She’s made a colossal mistake in coming home for the summer.

  Hannah and Birdie leave the kitchen and enter the showroom, standing out of the way of customers waiting at separate service counters for baked goods and coffee. More patrons occupy every table positioned by the windows and at the banquette on the far wall.

  “I’m going to close for a few days before Memorial Day to make some minor renovations,” Birdie says. “You have such a creative eye, I’d like your thoughts on what improvements we should make. I’m thinking of adding large chalkboard menus behind both counters.”

  Wait. Did her mom just give her a compliment? Hannah rubs her chin as she thinks about it. “The place has potential, but you need to brighten it up, make it feel more like a cafe. Why not play off the island theme? Put some potted palm trees in the corner and paint the wall behind the counters a fun color like aqua.” She tilts her head back, staring up. “Cool, a tin ceiling. I would paint it a paler version of the same hue and replace the brown ceiling fans with white ones. Maybe try to find some that have an islandy feel.”

  Birdie places her hand on her chest. “Love it! I’ll eventually change the name, but we can still use the island theme.” She smiles at Hannah. “I knew you’d have creative ideas.”