Loose Ends And What Knots

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “What kind of tea is it?” I asked my little carpet shark.

  “Earl Grey, of course. This ain’t my first tea party.”

  “Well, then I’ll take a cup.”

  “I don’t have any more cups. Mommy, can I get a cup out of the kitchen?” Charlene gave Mo a nod. Moiraine went running straight away on her quest.

  With Mo out of the room, Char began to make introductions. “Well, you already know my mother.” Marlene gave me a little smile, and I gave a smile in return. “These other ladies are my grandmother and her sisters, my great-aunts. This is Martha, Delores, Janet, Phyllis, and my grandmother Grace.” Each of these women, in turn, acknowledged my existence in her own unique fashion. Martha sniffed and raised her chin a bit. Delores gave me a slight nod. Janet, on the other hand, was noncommittal and didn’t react at all. Phyllis, on the other hand, treated me warmly with what I would say was a flirty giggle and a hello.

  Grace, Char’s grandmother and matriarch of this gossip of women, nodded her head and said, “Pleasure to meet you, young man. We have heard many tales about you,” by her tone, I could not gather whether she is approving or disapproving of me. Maybe the jury is still out? Mo came running back into the living room and handed me my cup. She had retrieved my Disney mug decorated with all the villains from their animated movies. It is empty, of course, as the tea is only in her mind’s eye.

  I thanked Mo for the tea, and said to the women present, “I gather by the fact this our first meeting, all you ladies are ghosts.”

  “Figured it out all by yourself, did you.” Turning to my wife, “Not too bright, is he? And look at him coming to us in dirty clothes and unshaven. Charlene my dear, why in heaven’s name did you pick this one?” Martha asked. “By my account, you had at least three different suitable men who came a calling.”

  “Suitable to you maybe, but none of those men could make me smile or make me all flush and giddy. What can I say? I love him.” My heart felt the familiar mule kicked sensation it gets every time one of my girls says it. Such power, those three words have.

  Delores chimed in with, “Love alone doesn’t make for a proper marriage, so I must agree with Martha. Aside from saving your life, which he put in jeopardy in the first place, I might add, he has failed miserably as a man. In all the years of your marriage, he has brought you no further in life than a rented home and a stack of bills. Why he doesn’t even have a hope of a career after all these years.”

  Charlene raised her hackle a bit and answered, “He gave me Moiraine.”

  This time it was Janet’s turn, “Yes he did. But Charlene, any man could have done it. Don’t get me wrong. She is a lovely child, a little loud for my taste, but lovely.” Moiraine was spinning and chanting to herself again. “I think I can speak for everyone here. We think maybe you should rethink this ill-conceived marriage. In this day and age, it is almost fashionable to throw out a first husband. You know, like the first pancake of a batch.” There is a general murmur of agreement from everyone except Phyllis.

  “He seems like a fine man to me. Look how he is with Moiraine, and his hands are strong yet gentle. I like a man with strong hands and a little dirt on him.” Phyllis said as her mouth smiled at me, and her eyes gave me a gleam which left me slightly uncomfortable.

  Martha announced, “Phyllis, you’ll like any man, especially someone else’s.”

  “That is uncalled for,” Janet said.

  Phyllis countered with, “Sorry Martha, if the fact I could attract a man in my life bothered you. How sad it must have been for you to die old, alone, and bitter.” A general back and forth between all the sisters began. Alliances formed, and battle lines were drawn. It became a full-on cat fight minus the biting and hair pulling. I guess I walked into a studio shooting of The Real Housewives of the Afterlife. In all the ruckus, I notice Grace, Char’s grandmother, observing the chaos.

  Mo stopped her spinning and chanting and said, “Don’t fight! I don’t like it when people fight!” Moiraine started to cry. “Aunt Martha, please don’t fight.”

  “Child, this doesn’t concern you. Hush now.” Those words struck Mo hard like a two-by-four between the eyes. I don’t think any adult has ever spoken to her in such a way. Well, I’ve taken all I can stand. I can’t stands no more.

  I scrunched down and hugged my daughter. “Don’t worry, Mo. Daddy will handle this.” I stood and looked directly at Aunt Martha. “You will apologize to my daughter and remember you are a guest in my house.”

  “And if I don’t, Mr. Embers?”

  “I will banish you from this house never to return except by my leave.”

  “Well, Mr. Embers,” she said as she stood and nearly pressed her nose to mine. “This is Charlene’s house too. What do you think you can do?” I took a piece of my will, and in my mind, I banished her to the realm after death. “Make me fa…”

  Wow, it worked. Cool. “Yes, Aunt Martha, banish you is exactly what I will do,” I said it with a bit of my will also. I wanted to be sure Aunt Martha heard it.

  I heard some gasps and a few quick little claps from Phyllis. “I wanted to do that my whole life.” Char gave a little giggle at her Aunt Phyllis but covered it quickly. I picked Moiraine up and hugged her. A knock came to the door. With Mo in my arms, I went to answer the door.

  I opened the door and big as life, well death, stood Aunt Martha. “Stand aside, sir. I wish to enter.”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  “Telling. Now, out of my way.” Aunt Martha ordered.

  “Madam, I have never liked bullies, and you are a bully. However, you are family, so I will make an allowance for your lack of manners.”

  In the most indignant tone I have ever heard, Aunt Martha said, “Well, I never!”

  “Yes, and it’s quite apparent.” More gasps came from the peanut gallery. Except for Phyllis, she laughed openly. “You need to apologize to Moiraine for your rude behavior.”

  With a sniff, Moiraine said, “It’s okay Daddy. She doesn’t have to.”

  “Moiraine, she was rude to you. If we don’t call people on their bad behavior, then we are as guilty as they are.” I turned my gaze to Aunt Martha. “Now, say you’re sorry to my daughter.”

  “I will not apologize to a child. Now, out of my way.” I moved to the side. As she tried to cross the threshold, she bounced off an invisible barrier like a force field in Star Trek, but without the sound effect. So, the legends are true a monster can’t enter your house unless invited. Again cool. “You will let me into this house. Charlene put a muzzle on your husband,” she said “husband” like it is an insult.

  “I am sorry, Aunt Martha, but he is the master of the house.” The next time Char gives me grief over some course of action, I will remind her of her statement. It won’t do me any good, but …

  “I have to give it to you, Aunt Martha. You stick to your guns; however, as my wife pointed out, I am the master of this house. Say you’re sorry, and mean it, or be forever banned from my home.” She paused her assault. She doubtless never had someone confront her so openly. “Well, what is it?”

  “Do you expect…”

  “If the next words out of your mouth are not Moiraine I am sorry, I will put you over my knee!”

  Phyllis started cheering, “Do it. Do it. Please do it.”

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m bluffing. Tell her Char.”

  “Aunt Martha, Nathan has put me over his knee a time or two.” I could feel the heat of Char’s blushing from here. I have put Charlene over my knee, but it wasn’t to punish her. A lustful laugh went through my mind.

  “You can’t touch me. I have been a spirit for years before you were even born. Now, invite me in.”

  This time it was Marlene, Charlene’s mother, who chimed in, “Aunt Martha, he can touch us spirits, so I wouldn’t test him. Unless you want your bottom smacked by a man.” I heard more giggles from Aunt Phyllis.

  “Such talk coming out of you Marlene. I taught you better,”
Grace said.

  I put Mo down and told her to go to her mom. “I’m not an unreasonable man. Tell my daughter you are sorry, and all is forgiven and forgotten.”

  Her face showed her weighing all her options before she made a decision. The hint of a smile came to her face, along with an air of confidence. “I will apologize to the child and in the future, show better manners to her. I am a lady, after all. I will not, I repeat, will not apologize to you, sir. As a host, you are deplorable, and as a gentleman, well, the word does not apply to you. I do not like you, sir. My niece would be better to see you leave this house never to return.” She stood there in defiance of me.

  “Good enough. All I wanted is an apology for my daughter and the promise of manners in the future. As for me, I would rather have an open enemy in daylight, than a smiling conspirator in the shadows. Please come into my home and make yourself comfortable.” I perceived the barrier to my home drop. Aunt Martha hesitantly reached out with her hand to confirm she is no longer barred from this house. After she completed her examination, she pulled herself together, and with self-assurance, she walked past me toward the living room. After she passed by me, I gave her a swift slap to her derriere. A sound of surprise came out of Aunt Martha’s mouth. “Proof, my dear Aunt Martha; I could do as I said,” a small puckish grin grew on my face.

  I returned to the living room and made my apologies to all there. I told them I must leave for the shower and change of clothes. As I finished showering and dressing, Char came into the room.

  “That was enlightening,” Char said.

  “Interesting. To tell the truth, I half-believed you were going to give me a tongue lashing, and not my favorite kind, for my behavior to your family.” Char stood there looking at me and shaking her head in disapproval of my jest. “So, what is so enlightening about your family visit? More importantly, what did they think of me? I know the majority of them didn’t care for me.”

  Charlene went to her side of the bed and pulled a photo album out of her nightstand. She sat on the bed cross-legged. A grimace came to her face as she lifted herself on the bed. The healing of her incision is slow. Flipping through the album, Char said, “They are from another time. In a lot of ways, they are still stuck there.” Char flipped a couple more pages and closed the book, “My grandmother liked you. She enjoyed you standing up to Aunt Martha. She said Aunt Martha never did care for men and also said Phyllis received Martha’s share of the desire for manly company.”

  “Yeah, that was my perception. Phyllis’s smile was a little too covetous for my taste. Although, I wonder does having a liaison with a ghost count as necrophilia?”

  “Nathan, Husband Mine, only you would ponder such a question. And yes, not only would it be necrophilia, it would be infidelity and incest to my mind. Now, come help me get dinner ready please.”

  Not Again

  Charlene and I are on our way back home on the I-15 from a night of enjoying live theater at the Moonlight Amphitheater in Vista. John, Char’s father, gave us season tickets to the theater for our anniversary along with the promise of babysitting on the nights of the performances. With things so tight in the money-purse realm, it is a great treat we have both been savoring. Date nights with my wife are the best though they are few and far between. Tonight’s showcase is Evita. It is not exactly my cup of tea, but I enjoyed it all the same. We sat to enjoy the performance on the same grassy spot we did on our third date.

  On the drive back home, I dreaded passing the section of I-15 where Char and I witnessed an accident. The driver died, holding my hand and begging me to stay with him until the end. He told me the story of his life while we waited for the rescuers to arrive. It hit me hard. His life paralleled mine in a great many ways. The whole ordeal pushed me to within a razor’s edge of the point of no return in the deepest depression I had ever experienced before or since. I would have died too if it weren’t for Charlene.

  We were about at the same location. So far, so good. My memory didn’t trigger to the point of distraction. A car ahead of us swerved hard and went tumbling down the embankment where the other accident occurred. It was like last time. I pulled the car over. As I got out, I told Charlene to call for help. I told myself, “Hold on to the now. Do not slip into the past.” My mind did as I told it.

  Unlike last time, I took a moment to grab the lug wrench from the trunk. It is an old fashion lug wrench with the long bar of thick steel tapered at one end and with a socket at the other. With the tool in hand, I scrambled down the embankment to the wreck. It is as bad as I feared. The air is filled with the smell of burnt coolant, hot oil, and gasoline. The car had rolled on to its roof, the airbag had deployed, and twisted metal pinned the driver. Trying to understand the situation, I looked around and took it all in. Both of the driver’s arms are broken with one being a compound fracture. Her face is a bloody mess, but she is breathing. The best play is to wait for help. I heard a baby’s cry. Looking again even more closely, I saw a baby’s car seat. It had broken away from the back seat and is wedged upside down in the space between the back and the front seats. I reached in but could not loosen it. My arms were at an odd angle, and I had no leverage. The baby’s crying began growing louder in my ears, and I started to build into a panic. I never could take the thought of a child in danger.

  Char put a hand to my shoulder. “The Fire Department is on its way. They said not to move any victims.” Char tried to pull me back from the accident when she heard the baby cry. It is now my turn to hold her back. A slight whoosh sound came to my ears, then the smell of smoke came to my nose. Something is on fire. There is no time to ponder what to do. The building flames would soon engulf the car.

  I pushed Char back, “Stay here. We’ll get in each other’s way if we try to get the baby together.” I took the lug wrench and slammed it into the seam between the rear door and the body of the car. I tried to pry the door open. The result is I only bent small bits of metal no wider than the wrench. At this rate, it could take hours to reach the baby. Luckily, this isn’t a Hollywood movie. Cars don’t explode after an accident. It won’t be long though before the whole car is overwhelmed by the flames. I strained to hear the rescuers approaching, but except for the sound of a baby crying and the fire growing, all is quiet.

  I kept working the wrench hoping to get lucky. I could feel the heat of the fire now. A scream of agony filled the air. “Oh, God! Sarah, where are you, Sarah? Mommy’s here.” The mother kept her cooing. Sarah’s crying subsided somewhat. The flames are growing. It wouldn’t be long before both mother and baby would be beyond rescue. Still no sirens in the distance. My calm evaporated.

  I screamed to the world, “No! Not again! Help me!” As if by magic, a dozen sets of hands started helping me pull at the door. Where did they come from? I didn’t care as long as they helped. You could hear the metal protest as it bent and finally pop. With our combined strength, the door flew a score of feet away. I reached in and pulled the baby, seat and all, from the car. I passed Sarah to Charlene for care while I worked to free her mother. What happened to everyone?

  Still no sirens. The heat is becoming unbearable, but I had to try. Screams and panicked cries came from the woman, “I’m burning! I’m burning!” Her words turned into unrecognizable tormented sounds. I grabbed ahold of her and pulled. Anything would be better than burning to death. She was stuck, and my own body began to protest the heat. Still no sirens.

  Suddenly I found myself breathing through an oxygen mask and being bandaged by a paramedic for some burns on my left arm. Char is right there next to me and cradling Sarah. A paramedic was trying to take the child from Char to examine her. Charlene told him he could look Sarah over as well with her holding the baby. I even thought I heard her growl. “Good luck, fella. Getting the baby from her will be no easy feat. Maybe if you used a Vulcan neck pinch on her, but I doubt even that would work.” She is being so protective and nurturing I believe she would be nursing Sarah, right here in front of God and everybody, if she had
milk in her breasts.

  It was hours before we returned home. When we opened the door, we found John asleep on the couch, gently snoring. The television is still on with an infomercial hocking a gizmo which is the best thing since washable toilet paper.

  Charlene whispered to me, “Put a blanket on dad while I make our bed ready for Sarah.”

  The remote for the TV is being held lightly by John. Slowly slipping it from his grasp, I claimed my prized and turned off the TV. Next, I grabbed the afghan off the recliner and gently draped John. He didn’t even break the rhythm of his snoring. The house is in a suitable order. I checked everything during my rounds and made sure all locks were locked. Next, I turned the lights out. Quietly, I made my exit to the bedroom.

  Charlene had made a place for Sarah on our bed. She surrounded her with pillows and blankets in my spot. “I guess we are going to sleep all cozied up on your side of the bed.”

  “Sorry, Husband Mine. You will be sleeping on the recliner. There is not enough room for all of us on this bed. I will not risk either you or me rolling over onto Sarah during the night. In the morning, you can pull out the crib and set it up.”