“I promise. There will be no funny business. May I open the door?”
“It’s the only way you’ll get to the toilet.” Mrs. Skinner waved a hand toward the door.
Meg opened the door, turned on the light, and stepped into the small room. It had the same black and white subway tile covering the floor and half-way up the walls as Aunt Vi’s bathroom.
“I don’t hear it running?”
Mrs. Skinner squeezed past her and pointed at the plumbing behind the toilet. “I turned off the doohickey behind the works. I turn it off when I’m not using it. Not such an easy thing for a woman of my advanced years. I have to fold up a towel and put it on the tile to protect my ancient knees. The towel’s right there on the counter, so you can use it when you turn it back on. Righty tighty, lefty loosey.” Mrs. Skinner demonstrated with her knotty hands.
Meg dropped her hydration pack on the floor, spread the towel, and opened the water valve to the toilet. She stood up and lifted the top off the tank and peered in. The tank was empty and water was running in to fill it. She saw the problem right away. The chain that attached the handle to the flapper had a small tail on it which was under the flapper, preventing it from closing all the way. The water was constantly draining out. She reached down and tied it in a knot to shorten it and prevent it from obstructing the flap. As soon as the tank filled, the toilet stopped running. Meg explained the issue to Mrs. Skinner.
Mrs. Skinner shook her fist at the ceiling again. “Wait until I tell that no good McCandles a woman showed him up.”
Meg folded the towel, washed her hands, and picked up her pack. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems with it running now,” she said as she followed Mrs. Skinner from the tiny bathroom back to the front door. Mrs. Skinner kissed her fingers and flicked them toward the ceiling. “From your lips to God’s ears, young lady!” Then she raised a finger as if she had an idea. “You wait right here. I have something for your trouble.”
“Please, no.” Meg watched her retreating back. “It was a favor.”
Mrs. Skinner’s voice shouted from the kitchen. “Nonsense. For your trouble.” Mrs. Skinner came back. “Some nice peaches. They’re the perfect ripeness. Not too firm. Not too soft. Some people like them with a little cream or soft cheese on them. Eat them any way you like them. They’re yours.” She pushed three peaches into Meg’s hand.
Meg smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Skinner. I love peaches.”
“I didn’t grow them,” Mrs. Skinner said, as if Meg thought she had a tree growing in her first-floor apartment. “I got them from the wop market down on Fifth. Mr. D’Angelo’s shop.” Mrs. Skinner winked. “Now, he’s a man who could interest me in some funny business, I tell ya.” Mrs. Skinner opened the door and ushered Meg out of the apartment and into the hall. “I appreciate your fixing my toilet, young lady. I’d invite you to stay for some coffee, but all this talk about toilets has got my innards working, if you know what I mean. An old lady like me doesn’t turn a deaf ear when nature calls. Come back and visit sometime.”
The door shut and Meg shook her head as she took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time and let herself into Aunt Vi’s apartment. The air in the apartment was stale. The window unit was cranking out air, but barely kept the room comfortable.
To Meg’s relief, Aunt Vi was alone in the living room. She looked up from her book when the door opened.
“What ya got there, Megsie?”
Meg held up the fruit. “Mrs. Skinner gave me peaches for fixing her toilet.”
“She’s a sweet lady, that Mrs. Skinner. She gave me half a loaf of banana bread for changing the lightbulb in her refrigerator once.” Aunt Vi folded the corner of the page she was reading and closed the book. Meg bit her tongue when she saw the page being bent. “She’s a racist homophobe, but she’s got a heart of gold. She’ll ply you with food and talk your ear off.”
Meg laughed. “So, I discovered. She’s a character. She asked if I was going to grab her ‘tuckus’.”
Aunt Vi raised her eyebrows. “I’m not surprised. She once asked me if I was trying to be a man.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “What did you say?”
“I told her I was just trying to be comfortable.”
Meg sighed. “She said a few colorful things, but I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. And I honestly don’t think she would even understand if I did say something.”
Aunt Vi nodded her head. “Yeah. I have to remind myself she’s a dying breed. A generation of people who lived their lives segregated by unwritten social rules and archaic laws. No one keeps them appraised of societal changes in a way they can understand, so they cling to what they know.”
Aunt Vi, for all her interesting ways, often shared insights that surprised Meg, even if she wasn’t completely on target. “There are too many ugly people out there spewing their hatred, and they’re not all elderly.”
Aunt Vi placed her book on the end table next to her chair. “A lot of them only need to have a civil conversation with someone who isn’t telling them they’re assholes for using the wrong term for a person who isn’t like them.”
Interesting. She immediately thought of her twin brother, CJ, and then felt bad because he was the first person who came to mind. Growing up in Seattle and being raised by progressive parents meant that they had both been taught to be sensitive to social issues. Yet even though he knew better, CJ had always been contradictory and got pleasure from pushing other peoples’ buttons. At first it had been funny, but as they’d grown up, he’d become mean. “Some of them are just plain assholes.”
“True.” Aunt Vi stood and stretched. She tucked her white tank undershirt into her cargo shorts. “How’d your volunteer day at the shelter go?”
Meg smiled at all the puppy love she’d received. Oh, how she missed having a dog! She couldn’t wait to get one once she moved back to Washington and settled down again.
“It went well. We spayed or neutered over forty animals. I did twenty on my own.”
Aunt Vi’s eyebrows rose. “Was it an assembly line or something?”
“Not at all, but the procedures are simple so you can get through them fairly quickly.”
Aunt Vi went into the kitchen and Meg followed her.
“Do they have cats?”
Meg’s ears perked up. “Quite a few. Are you thinking about getting one?”
Aunt Vi washed her hands. “Maybe I’ll go down and check them out. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“I’d love to go with you.”
“Having an expert with me would be a plus.” Aunt Vi dried her hands. “It’s good you get to keep in practice while you hang out here for the summer. But are you getting to explore the city like you wanted to do? You spend so much time helping at the coffee shop and now at the shelter.”
Aunt Vi took two beers out of the refrigerator, pried the caps off, and handed one to Meg. After two months with Aunt Vi, she’d finally understood it was her way of connecting with Meg. It was their little tradition, so she went with it now. The cold glass in her hand felt wonderful and she touched it to her cheek.
Aunt Vi took a sip.
Meg considered Aunt Vi’s question. Her time in New York hadn’t turned out to be what she’d imagined, so far. Not in a bad way. Just different. She’d explored all of the areas she’d set out to see—all of the touristy places and a few places locals had suggested—but she realized it wasn’t as fun doing it on her own. It would have been nice to have someone to share it with.
“Pretty much. I’ve checked off most of my list as far as things to see and do are concerned. The main thing was to live like a local. Having a job and volunteering helps. I tried not to have specific expectations when I got here.”
“Have there been any surprises?”
Besides the continuous line of women visiting her roommate? Meg stifled a laugh. She’d never s
ay that to Aunt Vi.
“I guess I’m surprised at how easy it was to adjust to the city. I like the slower pace of Washington state, but I like it here too. I mostly see why mom talks about it so fondly.”
“Mostly?”
Meg sipped her beer. “Mom always has this wistful nostalgia thing going on when she talks about her time in New York. I guess I expected there’d be more romance to it or something, if that makes sense.”
Aunt Vi laughed. “Yeah. I think I understand. I’ve lived here all my life, so it’s all I know. I wouldn’t live anywhere else, but it’s just a place to live. I work here. I have friends here.”
Meg understood. Every time she came back to Seattle, she was blown away by the trees and water—things she never thought about when she was there all the time.
“Well, I didn’t expect to spend so much time at the coffee shop. It was only supposed to be four weeks, while Taylor and Karma were in Europe.” She took another sip of her beer. She was finally starting to cool down. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d do it again.” Taylor had to extend the trip when Karma was offered an unexpected chef’s residency. And there was no way Meg could have left when Gertie came down with a second bout of the shingles when Betty was on tour down south. “Things will be back to normal in a week or two. I can leave the shop then.”
Aunt Vi tipped her bottle at her. “I hope your friends appreciate all you do for them?”
“They do. Besides, I plan on letting them show just how much they appreciate me by letting them feed me.” Meg patted her belly and laughed. She looked forward to going to their house for dinner. They were great friends. Then it hit her. The feeling she couldn’t put her finger on. It was loneliness. She looked forward to going to Taylor and Karma’s place, but she wanted what they had.
“As long as you get to do all the stuff you wanted to do when you came out here.”
“I’ve seen all the touristy stuff—the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Broadway, Chinatown, the ferry out to Coney Island—but it’s kind of nice to see how the locals live. It was even cool to help Mrs. Skinner out. It was a very apartmenty thing to get to do. Much better than standing around someplace with a bunch of tourists.”
“You take after your mother. She was the same when she came out here all those years ago.”
“I’m not surprised.” Meg liked being compared to her mom.
Aunt Vi looked her up and down. “What’s the dress code at the shelter?”
Meg looked down at her running clothes, which were still sweaty from the run back to the apartment.
“My work clothes are in my bag. I took a cab to the clinic this morning and changed before I ran home.”
“How far is it? It’s over on the East side, right?”
Meg looked at her smart watch. “Almost five miles. But I ran through Central Park and I added a mile and a half by circling Morningside Park. It’s pretty magical getting to run through the parks.”
“You’re crazy running in this heat.”
“True. I could do without that part. I’d like to try it in the spring or fall.”
“Well, you’re always welcome to come back to check it out,” Aunt Vi smiled.
15
Heeding her boss’ directive, Fiona went home at a reasonable hour. Stepping out of the air-conditioned office, the heat of the City wrapped around her like a wool blanket. It was especially stifling in her business suit, sapping her strength as she walked the few blocks from her office to her apartment. She couldn’t wait to change into shorts and a tank top.
She was peeling off her work pants when her phone rang. She was shocked to see Mike’s name in her caller ID. It had been over two months. She debated whether to answer it, when the phone quieted after only two rings. Relief washed over her, but she was also a little disappointed. She liked Mike. Not in that way, but he was a good friend. But now it was back to the impasse they’d been at since the night he’d slunk out of her apartment.
She finished changing into shorts and was about to head toward the kitchen to figure out what to eat for dinner, when the phone rang for the second time. It was Mike again. She let it ring a couple more times to test his resolve before she answered it.
“Hi there, stranger.” Maybe it would be less awkward if she acted like nothing had happened between them. Her false cheer sounded hollow in her own ears.
“Hey, Fi. I wondered if you’d answer.” His familiar voice sounded a little strained.
“I was figuring out what to make for dinner.” It didn’t exactly answer his implied question, but it was an answer of sorts.
“Oh. Should I let you go to finish up?”
“No. I can heat up a bowl of soup and talk on the phone.” She didn’t want the hot food, but the nausea she’d been feeling didn’t give her a lot of options.
There was an awkward pause Fiona filled on her end by selecting a can of chicken noodle from the cupboard and grabbing the can opener.
“So. Any plans for the long weekend?” he finally asked.
“Nothing exciting. Gregory gave me tomorrow off, though, so I get an extra-long break.” She switched the phone to speaker so she could open the can of soup.
“Nice.”
“Yeah.” They’d never had a hard time talking before. She balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her forehead, before reaching up to get a bowl from the cupboard.
There was another pause as she poured the soup into the bowl and put it in the microwave. She wondered if microwaves stayed in the food after you cooked it, and if so, if it would have any effect on the fetus. She noted these were thoughts she’d never imagined herself having.
Mike spoke, taking her out of her head.
“It’s nice to talk to you.”
At least he was trying. She should, too, but she honestly couldn’t think of anything to say, except what was on her mind these days, and she wasn’t ready to get into it with him before she figured out what she was going to do about it.
“Yeah. It is.”
He sighed. “God, this is weird.”
She laughed. “Yeah. It is.”
He laughed. “More than a little weird, right?”
“Definitely more than a little.” She rested her elbows on the counter and played with a strand of her hair.
“Um, is it okay that I called?”
“I’m glad you did.” It was good to hear his voice.
“We saw each other naked.” He blew out a breath at this, as if it had been a challenge to get it out there.
“Oh god, you went there.” She covered her face with her hand. That night came back to her and she’d been trying not to think about it. They’d been drunk. Beyond drunk. She wished she couldn’t remember the awkward, awful attempt at intimacy.
“I know. It just came out. It’s like I had to acknowledge it, otherwise it would have been hanging there. You know?”
She pushed her hair back and closed her eyes. Would the shame ever go away? The repercussions sure wouldn’t. “Yeah, I guess.”
She let herself remember in the ensuing pause. The embarrassment was excruciating.
“I feel like I might have pressured you.” His words were almost a whisper. At least she wasn’t alone in her embarrassment and regret.
“You didn’t. I was a willing participant.” Afterthoughts didn’t count once you’d done something you should never have done.
“Is that true?”
She heard the hope in his voice. He didn’t need to feel like a predator on top of everything else. She remembered his clumsy kisses, his request to touch her breasts. She didn’t know why she let him, but she did. Even though she’d never been with a man before. She liked women. She’d always liked women. It had been almost clinical, the way she’d experienced the whole thing. His actions weren’t passionate. A quick hand on her breast, a squeeze, and then he’d moved o
n. She’d felt more emotion during a breast exam. She chuckled.
His voice was tentative. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”
She cleared her throat and the laughter faded immediately.
“Yes, it’s true. It was completely consensual. Why would you think it wasn’t?”
“Because you were crying.”
She could almost see him grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was stressed out. He’d been the one crying. Had she been crying, too? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I was crying, too.”
“I don’t remember.” But she did. She had been crying because he was so sad. Not just sad—bereft. He’d failed the bar exam. His heart was broken because of Charlie. His parents would never accept him if they knew he was gay. His world was caving in on him and he’d been trying to pretend he could be someone else, when they were actually proving he couldn’t. Her heart had been breaking for him, so when he’d started to kiss her, she had let him. She didn’t know why she did, but she did.
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