“Eddie’s here,” she told me unnecessarily as I could feel his presence in the house with senses honed from months of Eddie Torture.
“Great, dinner’s ready. Everyone at the table,” I ordered abruptly.
I had planned the evening closely. We had an hour and a half to eat dinner and in that time I also had to change and get to work. It was enough time not to seem rude (or, at least, not too rude) but not enough time for true disaster to fall.
Or so I thought.
“But…” Mom said, “shouldn’t we offer him a drink? Maybe sit and have a chat?”
I did not think so. No chats. Eddie could drink at the table while forking food in his mouth.
“No time, supper’s done and I’m about to mash the potatoes. Go, go, go!”
Mom wheeled out, defying my order and intent on being both meddling and polite, “I’m asking him what he wants to drink.”
“Just do it in a hurry,” I called after her, knowing Eddie probably could hear. “We don’t want cold potatoes.”
I hid in the kitchen, fiddling over the final touches. I knew this was the act of a supreme wuss, but I didn’t care. Mom came in, made Eddie an iced tea, then Mom went out.
I put food in serving dishes and started to head to the table. I’d made chicken fried steak, an enormous mound of mashed potatoes, peppered white gravy and green beans. Mom forced me into frying all eight beef cutlets I bought, rather than just four, telling me Eddie was a man and men were big eaters. I’d never known anyone who could eat two huge chicken fried steaks, much less five, but who cared. I didn’t have the energy to fight her.
Maybe he could.
Maybe he would, just to be nice, and then he’d lapse into a food coma. I was focusing on the next hour and a half and hoping I’d survive it. An Eddie Food Coma would just be a bonus.
“Let’s eat,” I announced, walking into the living room and heading toward the dining table. I was balancing two bowls and a platter and nearly dropped them when Eddie looked at me.
The minute he saw me, his eyes got funny, kind of lazy, amused and assessing all at the same time. His eyelids came down just a bit, the corners of his lips turned up and his dimple came out.
“I’ll go get the gravy,” Mom said and wheeled away, guiding herself with her foot.
I set the food on the table, busy, busy, busy. I was just noticing the table Mom laid was set for five, rather than three when I felt Eddie come up behind me.
“Take a seat,” I said, not turning to look at him and not caring if I seemed impolite.
I was back to my Bitch Strategy. I was counting on the fact that no one really wanted to be around a bitch, not even Eddie.
His hands went low on my hips, I felt pressure there and he turned me around. His hands slid around me, still low on my hips so they settled at the top of my behind and he pressed me close.
I looked up, the lazy look was still on his face but he was smiling full now.
I took a mental deep breath.
“Food’s gonna get cold,” I warned.
“What’s the matter now?” he asked.
I blinked.
“What do you mean? Nothing’s the matter.”
He watched me and then something lit in his eyes. I didn’t know what that something was but, by the look of it, it was something that made Eddie very happy.
“You’re scared of me,” he murmured, pulling me closer.
I blinked again and my body got stiff. “I’m not scared of you,” I lied.
The smile was there but now it, too, turned lazy and somehow… satisfied.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Am not,” I said.
“You are and you should be.”
My eyes got round.
“Why?”
“Because, you don’t give it, I’m gonna take it and you know it.”
“Give what?”
“Anything,” he said and his mouth came to mine, “Everything.”
Dear Lord.
My breath caught. My doo-da quivered. I grabbed onto his biceps and he kissed me. I slipped firmly into the Eddie Daze and, I’m afraid to say, kissed him back. When he lifted his head, it took a few seconds for me to open my eyes.
“Chiquita, you’re too adorable,” he muttered, watching me, the lazy look gone, the hungry look in its place.
The buzzer went and I jumped.
“I’ll get it!” Mom yelled and immediately exited the kitchen, her snail’s pace fetching of the gravy explained. I knew she was giving Eddie and me a moment and probably eavesdropping at the same time. If her fast advance from the kitchen was anything to go by, she’d positioned herself right at the door.
My life sucked.
“I really don’t like you,” I said, taking it out on Eddie.
He just smiled.
He let go but stayed close and I turned.
Ada walked in, Mom following, still carrying the gravy.
That explained place setting number four and Mom making me prepare enough food for an army. I had a sneaking suspicion as to who was going to be at number five and my eyes narrowed on my mother. She ignored me.
“Jet, you look pretty,” Ada said and I bent to give her a kiss.
Only Ada would describe my slut makeup as pretty.
“Hey Ada.” I greeted her.
She looked at Eddie and her eyes lit.
“And you’re Eddie.”
She offered her hand, Eddie took it and smiled at her.
She turned her bright gaze to me. “He’s a looker.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“Food’s gonna get cold,” I repeated, beginning to feel both panicked and ticked off, neither of which I could let loose at that particular moment.
“But Trixie hasn’t arrived yet,” Mom said as everyone started to take their places at the round table.
“She’ll have to catch up,” I replied, scooting as both Mom and Ada bumped me around like I was the ball in a pinball machine, adeptly forcing me to sit next to Eddie.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
“Jet tells me you’re an officer of the law,” Ada said as we started to pass food around, Mom shakily pouring iced tea for everyone. I knew better than to take it away from her, she was challenging herself, like the therapists told her to do, showing off in front of Eddie. Though, I wished she wouldn’t do it while dealing with liquids.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, taking a chicken fried steak and then handing the platter to me.
“Have you ever been in a high-speed chase?” Ada asked, passing Eddie the green beans.
“Once or twice,” Eddie answered, taking beans.
Ada’s eyes got round, handing over the potatoes.
“Did anyone crash?”
“No.”
She looked disappointed then she rallied, “Ever been in a shoot out?”
Eddie mounded potatoes on his plate, his eyes sliding to me, then back to Ada.
“Yeah.”
My heart skipped a beat at the thought of Eddie in a shoot out. He’d joked about it this morning and it never crossed my mind how dangerous his job really was.
“Ever been shot?” Ada asked, excitedly.
I held my breath and my body tensed.
“No.”
I felt my body relax.
Thank God.
Ada’s lips pursed; denied the gory details.
“Ever shot anyone?” she asked, relentless, handing him the gravy.
“Yeah.”
Ada’s face brightened.
My breath stuck at the thought of Eddie shooting someone. He always seemed like a dangerous, badass guy but shooting someone took it to a new level.
I looked at him out of the corners of my eyes and could see he was being polite but didn’t want to talk about it. Then again, who’d want to talk about shooting someone, even a bad someone, even if you were a dangerous, badass guy?
Ada opened her mouth to say something else and I interrupted her.
“Ada,
honey, maybe you and Eddie can talk about shooting people after we eat.”
Her mouth snapped shut in frustration. Eddie’s hand went under the table and he ran his fingers up the side of my thigh. I guessed that was his way of saying a silent thank you.
I had to admit, I liked it.
Ada tried a different tact, “Do the police still do those ride-alongs, you know, where they take civilians on patrol?”
Eddie looked at me again, then he started to cut into his steak. “Sure,” he answered.
Ada bumped into Mom on cloud nine, then she went for the gold, “Do they take senior citizens? I’m eighty-one, but, I swear, I have the reflexes of a sixty year old.”
I stopped with a fork full of steak, potatoes and gravy halfway to my mouth, wanting to see how Eddie got out of this and not about to help him this time.
“Probably not,” he replied honestly, not pausing in his eating.
He chewed and swallowed.
Ha ha! He was stymied and buying time.
“But I’ll arrange for you to have a tour of the station if you want.”
Ada’s face broke into a smile.
“Do you think they would fingerprint me?” she asked. “You know, just for the heck of it?”
“No problem.”
Ada looked like she’d died and gone to heaven. Cloud nine a distant memory, she was on cloud twelve and sitting next to God. “That would be grand,” she breathed.
Wonderful.
Now Eddie was doing favors for my friends. I’d never be able to pay him back and get him out of my life.
“Ada’s addicted to those cop shows,” Mom explained.
Eddie smiled just as the buzzer rang.
“I’ll get it,” I said because Mom was transfixed watching Eddie smile.
Trixie was at the door, “Hey Jet. Sorry I’m late.”
I was just relieved there was no overnight bag.
“We’ve already started eating,” I told her.
She wasn’t listening, she was walking into the dining area and beaming at Eddie.
“Eddie! Great to see you again. Hey Ada.” She sat down, poured herself some iced tea and, without further ado, started to pile food on her plate.
“Eddie’s going to arrange a tour of a police station for me,” Ada announced. “They’re gonna take my prints and everything!”
“That’s fantastic,” Trixie replied, then turned to Mom, “Have you packed?”
I looked from one to the other as Mom nodded.
“Packed?” I asked.
Trixie looked at me.
“Yeah, your Mom’s spending the night with me.”
I closed my eyes and silently asked God, Why me?
God had no reply.
The table was created for four, five was a tight fit. Eddie’s arm slid along the back of my chair, even as he continued to eat. I looked at him and realized he was having the time of his life.
He met my gaze.
“I really don’t like you,” I whispered.
His dimple came out.
“What was that?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” I muttered and started to shovel food into my mouth.
“Jet, this meal is wonderful,” Trixie said, digging in. Then she looked at Eddie, “Jet’s an excellent cook.”
“The best,” Mom chimed in.
“You should taste her meatloaf. Never had meatloaf as good as Jet’s,” Ada added.
Dear Lord.
Meatloaf was meatloaf.
Yeesh.
“And she makes lemon meringue pie, from scratch, even the crust. Her crusts are light and flaky. You’ve never tasted anything so good,” Trixie said.
“Always been a good cook. She’s got the gift,” Mom put in.
I wondered how rude it would be if I got up and started walking, and didn’t stop until I hit Vancouver.
“She’s a great kid,” Trixie went on, winking at me.
“Couldn’t have asked for better. Got great grades, never got into trouble. Even when her Dad left, Jet kicked in… took care of everyone,” Mom said.
I froze.
This particular conversation was not going to happen, not now, not ever.
“Mom…” I warned, giving her a killing glance.
“What? You did.” Mom looked at Eddie, “She was fourteen, got herself a job to help me with grocery money…”
“Mom…” I repeated, a lot louder this time.
“What?” Mom said, a lot louder too, “You did. I’m not embarrassed to admit I fell apart when your Dad left. Especially not considering I’d raised a daughter who kept the family together.” She turned to Eddie and smiled her dazzling majorette smile, “I take full credit.”
I leaned into her, what I thought was threateningly.
“Stop talking,” I demanded, still in the throes of the Bitch Strategy.
I guess I wasn’t very threatening.
“You should be proud of yourself,” Mom said to me, using her “don’t argue with your mother” voice
I ignored The Voice.
“Why? Anyone would do it,” I returned.
“Lottie didn’t,” Trixie pointed out.
This was true; Lottie didn’t, mainly because I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to be able to be a kid and that’s what she was.
“Let’s change the subject,” I suggested.
“Eddie,” Ada said, forging into the breach, “what do you think of Jet’s new hair-do? Isn’t it pretty?”
I gave up trying to eat and leaned back in my seat.
“Somebody, please kill me,” I asked the ceiling.
Eddie’s hand curled around my neck and his thumb stroked me there.
Electricity shot from my neck, straight to my nipples.
Bad idea, leaning back in my seat. I forgot about Eddie’s arm.
I leaned forward immediately.
“What’s for dessert?” Trixie asked, her eyes dancing. She’d caught the hand action. “I hope it’s lemon meringue pie.”
I could have shot myself.
I’d made chocolate sheet cake. Trixie loved my chocolate sheet cake, demanded that I make it for her birthday every year. I should have bought something Sara Lee.
“Chocolate sheet cake,” Mom announced.
Trixie’s eyes got huge and she turned to Eddie, “You’ll ask her to marry you after you taste her chocolate sheet cake.”
I threw my chair back, got up and grabbed my plate.
“I’m done. Anyone else done?”
Mom looked up at me. “Jet, sit down. No one else is done.”
“Then I’ll go make more iced tea.”
And I ran.
My fucking mother.
And yes, it was definitely an f-word moment.
I hid in the kitchen, making more iced tea and getting the coffee ready for dessert. I also got out the dessert plates and forks. I also cleaned the pots, rinsed my plate and cutlery, put them in the dishwasher and wiped down the counters.
Then Trixie came in, bearing used dishes.
She glared at me.
“That was rude.”
I didn’t care if it was rude. Rude was good. I was embracing rude with everything I had.
“You don’t understand what’s going on,” I told her.
“So explain it to me,” she shot back.
Since I didn’t understand what was going on either, I couldn’t.
“Just trust me, this is not what it seems.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, all pissed off and not believing me, not even a little bit. She put the dishes in the sink and then a hand to her hip.
I was surrounded by women who could pull off the attitudinal hand on hip. Again, I had to ask, why me?
She went on, “From where I sat, it seemed like he was very interested in every word that was said. From where I sat, he seemed very interested in watching you the whole time we talked. From what I can see, he seems like a nice guy.”
“How can you tell? You haven’t let him get a word in edge
wise,” I said.
She started to look uncomfortable then hid it.
“Maybe we were laying it on a bit thick.”
“A bit?” I snapped.
Her hand came away from her hip, her face changed and she grabbed my arms.
“Jet, honey, who made the rule that you weren’t allowed to be happy?”
“No one. I’ll be happy… someday. Just not with Eddie.”
“Why not with Eddie?”
“Have you looked at Eddie?”
Her eyes got kind of dreamy.
She’d looked at Eddie.
“Enough said,” I finished.
She stared at me, coming back into the room.
“What’s the way Eddie looks got to do with the price of tea in China?”
How to explain?
See, the thing was, good things didn’t happen to me. It wasn’t as if I had a sorry, sad life. My life wasn’t better or worse than anyone else’s. I’d had ups, I’d had downs.
Okay, so there were a lot of downs, but there were also a lot of good times too.
I just knew I wasn’t lucky. I also knew my limitations. And finally, I knew that dreams didn’t come true, not your Mom’s dreams for you, not your Mom’s best friend’s dreams for you and certainly not your own. Life was finding your piece of happiness, even working for it if you had to, and settling in.
I knew I’d find my piece of happiness but even if Eddie truly did have some weird attraction to me, I’d never, not in a million years, settle in with him. I’d always be wondering when he’d figure it out or find something better. And I didn’t want a life like that.
That’s why good looking people were with good looking people, and plain folk were with plain folk. You didn’t court that kind of unhappiness.
Trixie had been married twice and was currently on the market. She had taste in men like my Mom and Lavonne but enough confidence to get them to take a hike when she was done carrying them. She’d find someone else, I knew it, she always did. She was that kind of woman. When she was done being alone, she wouldn’t be alone. She’d never understand.
“Never mind,” I said.
She stared at me.
“Next time I see Ray, I’m gonna kill him.”
She’d have to stand in line.
“Why?” I asked.
“Never mind,” she said.
We rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Trixie carried out the sheet cake and I trailed with ice cream and plates. Trixie served up while I did coffee. The whole time, I avoided looking at Eddie.