People probably made up crazy stories all the time to try and get out of extra charges, but the drama with the airline sure seemed like a lot of unnecessary aggravation to me. When she finally convinced the supervisor she wasn’t lying and was given a new reservation number, she hung up the phone and turned to me.
“That was ridiculous,” she said and sighed hard enough to move the furniture. “Well, let’s call Lindsey and then I have to go. I put a frozen lasagna in the oven for you. Take it out in fifty minutes. I have to go home and bake! Did your momma tell you I was baking cakes for the restaurant?”
Big surprise.
We dialed Lindsey’s number and she was actually in her dorm room, studying. Of course she was studying. That was all she ever did! I could tell from Aunt Mimi’s end of the conversation that Lindsey was very upset, but when she finally talked to Mom she calmed down.
“We all need to learn when to hold our tongues, right?” Mom said.
Lindsey must have felt that Mom wasn’t in any danger because Mom said, “Oh, I’ll be fine.” And then they started talking about her classes and her roommate—a girl named Naomi from Wyoming—and after a few minutes, they said good-bye.
“Hey! I didn’t even get to say hello!”
My complaint fell on deaf ears, as most of them did, but I didn’t rag on them. Mimi was leaving and I could see that Mom was exhausted. I told her to go back to bed.
That night I made Mom sip some chicken noodle soup through a straw and I put the noodles on a spoon and into her mouth. I fought my way through some of the lasagna, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. Around nine-thirty, there was a knock at the door. I was doing geometry homework, cussing my head off over the areas of triangles. Imagine my shock to see O’Malley and Duane standing there with flowers.
“Is your Mom awake?”
“I think so. Come on in.”
O’Malley was wearing a knit shirt and khaki shorts and Duane still had on his chef’s jacket and black-and-white check pants. They had both combed their hair, which seemed a little strange to me. I mean, wasn’t Duane a queen? And didn’t O’Malley have a flame? Maybe they thought they were coming to a wake.
They stood inside the door like they didn’t know what to do with themselves and so I said, “Lemme see if she wants to get up. . . .”
“Oh, no! Don’t make her get out of bed!” Duane said.
“Okay. I’ll just tell her you’re here.”
I opened Mom’s door and she wasn’t in her bed where I had left her. So I tapped on her bathroom door and heard her muttering to herself.
“Mom? Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Duane and O’Malley are here to see you.”
“Oh, God . . .” The bathroom door opened and out came Mom with a very swollen upper lip and the beginnings of black eyes. “Look at me. My eyes are turning purple.”
The purple was just in a couple of spots and her cheeks were a little yellow. Overall, I didn’t think she looked that much worse than she had earlier that afternoon.
“Come on,” I said, “you’re gorgeous.”
I followed her out to the hall and living room.
“Hey,” O’Malley said, and handed her a little book that was gift wrapped. I could tell he was shocked that Mom looked so beaten up. “I brought you a bartender’s guide. Figured you could use some fun reading? How’re you feeling? Did you get the license number of the truck?”
“Thanks a lot,” Mom said with a very lopsided grin. “It was a big redneck Amy truck.”
“Jesus!” Duane said. “Girlfriend! Don’t you worry! I’ve got this little compact from Chanel—it’s not mine; it belongs to my sister; she left it at my apartment—anyway, it’s got four kinds of cover-up in it and we can hide everything! But what have they stuck up your nose?”
No one believed for a makeover minute that Duane didn’t have his own compact of cover-up.
“Splints,” Mom said, “comes out Thursday.”
“Well, that can’t feel so great,” Duane said. “Here. I brought you something to start your collection. And there are flowers in the sink from both of us. Connie and the Zone Man send their love too.”
He handed her a small box from Williams-Sonoma. Mom opened it and lifted out a paring knife.
“Oh, y’all, this is so sweet of you to do this, you didn’t have to. . . .”
I could see Mom was really moved by what they had done. It was completely unexpected and very thoughtful.
“Um, do you guys want something to drink?” I said.
“You guys? Lawsamercy, Gracie!” Duane said, with this look on his face that seemed to say that saying you guys was worse than using the F word.
“Okay, okay. Do y’aaaall want something to drink?”
They laughed and said, That’s better, and I knew the reason they were laughing was because they were uncomfortable. It was funny that they were so relaxed in the restaurant but so awkward in our house. Or maybe it was because Mom looked worse than they thought she would.
“No, thanks, Gracie, we gotta get going,” O’Malley said. “It’s late. We just wanted to come by and say we were sorry this happened, Linda. I feel terrible that . . .”
“Don’t even think about it,” Mom said. “Amy was so quick, no one could have done anything.”
“Thanks for saying that. Brad’s seriously pissed. He’s been on the phone with Robert all night.”
“You know what?” Mom said. “I think we’re better off just letting it go. I don’t want a lawsuit. If this whole crazy incident gets her away from Brad and all of us, then that’s really what we want.”
“Well, you can discuss that with Brad,” O’Malley said. “We just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine. I swear,” she said.
“Okay, if you say so. But if you want me to kill the bitch, just say the word,” Duane said. We all smiled when he said that because Duane was about my size. He cleared his throat with the realization that everyone knew he wouldn’t mash a bug and said in the most tender voice, “I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you were okay. That’s all.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, we’re sort of like a family at the restaurant—a weird family, but a family nonetheless. And now you’re one of us, you know? If I had been in that office I would have slapped her face off. I’m not kidding.”
“Oh, Duane,” Mom said, smiling all crooked because of her big lip, “there wasn’t an instant that anyone could have, even if they had thought of it. Really. But thank you. And you too, O’Malley.”
They left, Mom shuffled back to bed and I put the flowers in a vase. That night I was the one who turned out the lights and locked the door. I went to Mom’s room to check on her and was happy that she was sound asleep. I put the flowers on the dresser in a spot where she could see them when she woke up in the morning. I went back to the kitchen and called Lindsey.
“Hey, got a sec?”
“Sure. How’s Mom?”
“Mom’s fine. She just has to heal. Needless to say, she ain’t coming to New Jersey this weekend. She’s got splints up her nose and stitches and everything. Aunt Mimi changed her trip to next weekend. Maybe you could go out to Montclair and help her?”
“No problem. How does Mom really look?”
“Well, she’s on the way to two black eyes, which she’s not going to like one f-ing bit, and her cheekbones are bruised too. I think it’s one of those deals that’s gonna get worse before it gets better. But she will survive. You know Linda!”
We said good night and I thought about school for a few minutes. We had a field trip the next day. I was trying to figure out what to wear. I took Mom’s alarm clock, intending to let her sleep. I made one more phone call to ask Alex to ask Lupe to pick me up in the morning.
“No problem,” he said. “How’s your mom?”
I guess the whole world knew.
“Okay. You know what’s really kinda odd about this?”
“What?”
“Who does something like really throw stuff except for the bad guys on a show like Law and Order? I mean, that’s pretty crazy, right?”
“Yeah, you would think that by the time you’re grown up, you’re civilized.”
“Yeah. No kidding. Okay, well, I gotta close up the house and all . . .”
In the morning, I tiptoed out of the house and left Mom a note to say that I would be home by four. I drew a big heart on it and left lots of X’s on the bottom so she would know I was thinking about her. In a rare act of maturity I even put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and left home feeling pretty good about myself.
It turned out we were going to the aquarium for the field trip and I was pretty psyched for it. We rode on the big yellow bus like a bunch of first-graders, laughing and carrying on. Mom may have been right that Mr. Miller was a bit of a jerk, and I agreed with her that his protesting in front of the restaurants was a little psycho, but at least he got us out of classes for the day.
We arrived and were milling around the lobby waiting for our guide to show up and enlighten us on ecosystems and watersheds. Miller was getting antsy and kept asking the receptionist to call the office and tell them that we were on a schedule. Well, after about ten minutes, this nice little old lady with a cup of coffee came waltzing out from the staff offices and I thought old Miller was gonna need resuscitation. I guess he was figuring, what could an old biddy like her know? We couldn’t have cared less if she was a hundred years old. As long as I got to skip geometry for the day I was happy. Turned out she knew plenty.
She began her talk with a lecture on the Sustainable Seafood Project, which actually made my ears perk up. Turns out a lot of restaurants in Charleston no longer served Chilean sea bass, orange roughy and shark. Well, I never ate shark anyway. I was dangerous enough as it was. You are what you eat, right? But Chilean sea bass was delish! Then she told us that orange roughy lived to be a hundred years old and I looked over at Alex.
“You want to eat a hundred-year-old fish?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m strictly a burger man myself.”
“Yeah, sure. Mad cow. Have a ball.” I had seen him put away massive quantities of anything that was put in front of him. He probably didn’t even know what he ate.
She continued to talk and I was surprised to hear that they were endangered and all the better restaurants in Charleston were not going to serve them until their population was replenished. I wondered if Duane and Louise knew about that. They probably did. I thought it made more sense to use local seafood at the restaurant anyhow. Even at my age, I didn’t think people came to Shem Creek for exotic fish from Japan or something. Besides, if we bought fish from the men who had been fishing the waters around Charleston for years, we helped support them. Wasn’t that better for the economy?
Every time the guide made some statement about conservation you could see Jason Miller’s little heart pump right through his shirt. Any reference to the environment got his motor going and we thought that he was acting very, very stupid.
“That old lady was pretty smart,” I said to Alex when we were riding back across the Cooper River Bridge.
“Yeah, she was.”
“You know, my mom had a date with Jason Miller.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, no shit. She didn’t like him. She thought he was a whack.”
“Well, he is a whack.”
“Yeah, but you can’t dump people just because you don’t agree with their politics, you know? I mean, he might not be her—whatever, man of her dreams or something—but that doesn’t mean he isn’t really, really smart, right?”
“Hey, Gracie. Know what? I think this is one of those classes where you just get your grade, get out and don’t look back.”
“You sound like my mother, Alex. You guys are like way too conservative.”
“Who? You—who?”
“Fine. Y’all. Happy? I just don’t think anyone sees the big picture here.”
TWENTY - ONE
ENCORE
THE phone rang all day long like the thing had nothing else to do. First, Mimi called. How did you sleep? Fine, I said, fine. Then Louise called. How are you feeling? I have a headache, I said. Headache was an understatement. I didn’t know that you could get that much pain into a single head and no matter how many aspirin I took, the pain was so distracting I could barely concentrate on anything. But Robert and Susan had sent an enormous bouquet and that somehow made my head feel a little better. Brad came by at lunchtime and brought me a cup of soup and a shrimp salad sandwich.
I answered the door barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt; my bed hair was up in a ponytail and my eyes were now an official reproduction of a color wheel. If Steven Cojocaru had been on the other side of my screen door instead of Brad Jackson, he would have said, Girlfriend, I am too sorry, but put yourself in a box and seal the lid. But Brad had his own comment.
“Well! Don’t you look fetching!”
“Please,” I said, opening the door. “Like I don’t know it.”
“I didn’t mean to get you up, but I thought you probably didn’t feel like cooking.” He dropped the bag on the counter and opened it up. “Here, eat something.”
“You didn’t get me up. I was just lying in bed thinking about life.”
I wasn’t really hungry until I started eating. But there wasn’t much for me to do besides eat, as Brad talked nonstop.
“Ah, life. Yes, a worthy cause to ponder. Look, I talked to Robert last night and again this morning. We can sue her for assault and Robert says it’s a slam dunk. You’re entitled to all the medical bills, lost wages . . .”
Lost wages?
“And, something for your pain and suffering. Now I don’t want you to worry about any of that because the business will cover your medical and Robert agrees with me that we should cover your salary. I mean, that’s the least we can do.”
Whew!
“Now, in terms of a pain and suffering award, there’s probably not much to get, but you could press charges and have her locked up. In the least case, I think we should have the court order a psychological evaluation and maybe ask the court to consider some anger management training. . . .”
As I finished the soup, sandwich, the pickle and every last French fry, he slowed down. I was finally able to squeeze in a word.
“Brad? I am not suing anybody and I am not pressing charges. It just isn’t something I would do. I don’t like her. She knew it. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and opened my big mouth. I appreciate the offer to cover my hospital bills, but I’m still on Cobra. Remember? However, if you want to pay me for the week, I would really appreciate that and we can just call it vacation or something.”
“Let’s not count this as a vacation. Let’s count it as battle pay.”
We were sitting at the table by the window and Brad had the strangest expression on his face.
“What?” I said.
He reached across the table and took my hand in his and covered it with his other hand.
“I am just so sorry this happened, Linda. I wish it had been me instead.”
“Well, I’m just glad the crazy maniac didn’t hit my temple. I could have been dead.”
“God. Don’t even think that.” His hand pressed mine and he stood to leave. “You get some rest now.”
The pressing of my hand was very sweet. Obviously, he had no interest in seducing me, unless he had a thing for sideshow freaks with black eyes and bulbous lips. No, he was just a friend, but a very special friend who really cared about me.
Bummer.
It was probably time to admit to myself that I would love to be his, I don’t know, girlfriend? Lover? Wife? I didn’t really know what I wanted from him but what he had given me so far was the treasure of his confidence. His friendship. His caring. As I tried to nap I could not help but wonder what it would be like to lie next to him—not with any you know what going on—but just to rest by his side. I thought it would be wonderful.
By the time Gracie returned home, I was up, showered and dressed. But like we always say in our family, decent people get up, shower and dress.
I was lying on the couch, watching the news, when she walked in. She tossed her backpack on the floor and opened the refrigerator.
“Hi, Mom! You’re up! You must be feeling better, I hope?”
“I’m alive. I think I’ll feel a lot better when these stupid splints are out and I can breathe normally, you know? There’s a pitcher of tea in there. Help yourself.”
“Uh-huh. Those things would drive me right over the edge. You want tea?”
“Sure. So, how was school?”
No answer. I looked up to see Gracie’s knitted eyebrows and I knew something was bothering her.
“Spill it, Gracie. What’s going on?”
She put my tea on the coffee table and sat on the end of the couch by my feet.
“You’re not gonna like this. You’ve got some serious black eyes now.”
“Yeah, lovely, huh?”
“Well, that woman makes me sick.”
“Forget her. Anger is like a cancer, you know. She’s just crazy.”
“I guess, but if I were you, I’d sue her for a million dollars.”
“You can’t get blood out of a stone, Gracie, and she hasn’t got a million dollars to give.”
“Then at least send her to jail.”
“Why is everyone so intent on me doing something about this woman? Can’t I just get better and go on with my life?”
“God, Mom, you’re like so passive about this.”
“No, I just don’t want all the negative attention it would bring, that’s all. It’s not good for the reputation of the restaurant, she’s got nothing to sue for anyway and I’m still getting my salary. So, bump her!”
“Well, I think she needs like a lobotomy or electroshock therapy.”
“It sure couldn’t hurt. But you know what? If I hadn’t been such a wiseacre to her, she wouldn’t have thrown the soup at me. And if Brad had just been honest with her, she wouldn’t have come in the restaurant ready to kill somebody.”