I need to food shop today. Seeing as Mr. M is being so much more receptive, I’m going to see if he has anything special in mind for the week’s menu. He doesn’t seem to mind my once a week shelf stocking method, but if he wants something special I’m not unhappy with having to make a daily run to the markets in town. I also need to see about his prescriptions and to pick up some dry cleaning.
A standard chore day.
I managed to get the dining room back in order, too. Nothing to do there but put the plates and silver away. No one ever ate anything. What a waste.
The blood came out of his clothes, I was happy to see. A twenty-four hour cold water soak did the trick. My dress, on the other hand, is now in the trash. It wasn’t the best material, and it fell apart when I tried to make it come clean. Too bad, I liked it a lot.
Thinking about the dress makes me think about Saturday night. Thinking about that makes me think about that ‘Sarah’, and thinking about her reminds me of all the stuff in the ‘storage’ rooms. Maybe I’ll get some boxes and tape and gather it all together. Mr. M seemed to imply that all of it belonged to her. She more than implied that she wanted her things. It will be something to keep me busy this afternoon.
I sigh. I have nothing to sigh about, it’s a beautiful day, I’ll be outside for a goodly portion of it, too, and my work load is light. I think I’m having withdrawal from the weekend. It was relaxed, after Saturday’s early morning fiasco. And I enjoyed Mickie’s company. I’ve never really had a ‘friend’ in the various places I lived. After a while it got too painful to leave them behind, so I kept things light and kept to myself most of the time. There were some people I liked over the years, but you move, you lose contact; it was always the same old story. I don’t know why I feel different about that here. There’s no guarantee that this job will work out, or that it will even last.
From talking with Mickie, I get the feeling that any day now Mr. M is going to announce that he’s going on a tour. That seems to be how things go. You’re off, you write, you record, and you tour. It’s a cycle. If that happens, he won’t need me here watching an empty house for him. Maybe if he had the dogs, but the dogs do not seem destined to be coming back any time soon, and he doesn’t seem worried, or even upset, about that.
So if this is all so temporary, why do I feel like I’m making a ‘home’ here?
Probably because I’m bankrolling just about every dime I’m making. Soon my over-inflated salary will be augmented with Errol’s alimony and child support payments. I’m going to set up a fund for Tish with the bulk of that, something that will make me interest so that when the time comes for her to go to college I’ll have a nice chunk of cash put aside. So even if I worked here for a year, I would be walking away from this job with a nice nest egg. Maybe that’s what’s got me feeling rooted.
Besides, that’s what I wanted anyway. Security and a place to live where Tish and I feel welcomed. Mickie and Dwayne have done that very quickly. Juliette, too, although I don’t know how much of that is borne out of necessity and how much of it is genuine. Mr. M? I don’t know. He wavers. He’s only just beginning to show signs of a personality to me. He was awfully nice to Mickie, but I don’t know how much of that was sincere, or what; how much of that was just relating to someone who knows a lot of other people you know, who understands what you do.
I don’t understand what he does at all. At the moment, he doesn’t appear to ‘do’ anything. Sometimes, during the course of a day, I’ll think about him, and his ‘doing nothing’ and wonder what that’s like. What would it be like to have every hour in every day devoted to nothing but my whims and wishes. Along with the money to satisfy them. From the looks of Mr. M, it’s not the stuff of dreams. In all sincerity, I have no idea if his moods are more a product of idleness or of simply not knowing what to do with himself. Maybe he hasn’t figured out what he wants to be when he grows up yet?
That thought makes me laugh to myself a little as I wander through the house with my coffee. I go into the pool room where I’ve placed all of the trappings and memorabilia of his career that surfaced during my organizational and cleaning frenzy. So many trophies, pictures, objects. I don’t know what half of them mean, but I’m sure they all mean something. I finally got around to listening to the CD’s I bought. Pleasant. They were very pleasant and catchy. Unfortunately, I have no idea which voice belongs to Mr. M. I haven’t listened to them enough to be able to tell, to discern who everyone is. I’ve looked over the booklets, too, but they’re of no help at all. What I was able to tell was that this group writes next to none of the songs they record. That reminds me of the old singing groups of the fifties and sixties. The Temptations. Groups like that. I didn’t know that sort of music was popular again, although the Backstreet Boys don’t sound like that at all. There’s no soulfulness there. Fun, yes, depth, no.
The other thing that seems quite clear to me is that Mr. M started working at a very, very young age. He’s not that old now. He just looks it. Not so much yesterday. I think yesterday was a ‘good’ day for him.
Damn. He’s like another casualty of child ‘star’ gone... gone, I guess. Depression. Substance abusing. The stuff that gossip columns thrive on.
I’m glad that Tish isn’t into all of that. She never showed any inclination to perform, to be spotlighted in any way other than as a good student. She’d very well rounded. People like her, she’s a people person and not very shy at all. She likes her school work as much as any kid does. She exceptional at no one thing, but above average in everything. She’s not afraid to try things, but more important, and this was something I learned just by watching her, she’s not afraid to fail things. I sigh again, catch myself doing it, and leave this shrine I’ve made.
This, what I’m looking at, what’s approaching me from the stairs balancing on one foot, holding the banister with one hand, crutches in the other, this will NOT be my child. Not if I can help it, no matter WHAT it takes.
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Shi is being extra nice to me today. I don’t know why, and I can’t really put a finger on what’s different, but there’s somethin’ and it’s just, nice. She sees me comin’ down the stairs and waits for me, let’s me lean on her arm instead of on the crutches and walks with me to the kitchen. She has my coffee ready for me before I can ask for it, even pours the milk in and everything. And she makes me bacon and eggs with cinnamon toast.
“I have to go to the store today, you’re just about out of everything. Do you want anything special? Something for supper? Lunch?” She’s all questions this morning.
“I dunno. Maybe a steak would be good?”
“That’s fine, not a problem. I thought I’d get some chicken, too, and whatever looks good. I guess you’re going to be around a bit more this week, hmm?”
“Yeah, for a few days. I can’t golf like this, already called Rene. I gotta get to my meetings, though, so he’s gonna pick me up in the afternoon today.” I missed a few. Didn’t go Saturday, didn’t go Sunday. Gotta go today. Not that I’m feelin’ any urges or anything, it just doesn’t pay to get outta the routine of makin’ the meetings. You start to feel like you don’t need them, and the next thing ya know, you’re passed out on someone’s floor with a bottle, or a nose full, or both. And I should know.
“Okay. Well, no cleaning people today. I’ll straighten up around here and then I’m off and running,” she tells me.
“I’m gonna try and get an appointment with my regular doctor to have him look at the foot and everything,” I tell her.
“Do you want me to call?” she asks.
“Nah, Juliette’ll take care of it. Could I, uh, please have a little more coffee?”
“Sure, sure,” she says, and she tops off my cup.
I want her to sit down with me. I don’t want to eat my breakfast by myself. I don’t care about after she leaves, I know she’s got shit to do, but I just would like it if she sat with me for a moment. She doesn’t even have to talk to me, just wait until I’m done.
“Beg pardon?” she asks.
“Hunh?”
“Were you talking to me?”
“I, no, I was just thinkin’ out loud I guess. You wanna finish your coffee?” I kick a chair out from under the table.
“Okay.” And she sits down and lights a cigarette and scribbles on her pad.
I try and think of somethin’ to say to her and the only thing comin’ to mind is crap about the weather. Which is stupid. But I can’t ask her about what’s she gonna do today, she’s already told me.
“I was wondering something,” she says.
“Shoot.” I’m all over that. What’s she wonderin’ about?
“Do you want me to get some cartons and pack up the stuff back there?” She points to the laundry room with her pen.
“No way,” I say. I shake my head. “No. She wants the stuff, she can get it herself.”
“Well, do you want to look through it and make sure that nothing there is yours? I was just clearing space, I had no idea about what is whose. And there’s a lot of stuff back there. We were only in one room, there are two that are filled.”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
“I shit you not.”
I almost choke on my food. I don’t think I’ve heard Shi say somethin’ like that since she got here, and hearing her say it sounds so not right that it’s funny. She just smiles at me while I clear my throat.
“Then I guess I better have a look at everything.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she agrees, and she’s laughin’ into her coffee now. “If I have time today, I can give you a hand, if not, and you can’t maneuver yourself around the stuff, tomorrow would be good, too.”
“Tomorrow. I think I’m gonna sit outside again today.”
“You have any sunscreen?”
“No.”
“I’ll get you some, then, you’re getting burnt. Doesn’t that bother you?” She points to the red on my face and neck.
“Nah. Reminds me of bein’ a kid. It was hot in Florida, too.”
“You from Florida? Where?”
“Mostly, like, around Orlando.”
“Disney.”
“More like Universal. Workin’, if I could.”
“When you were a kid?”
“Yeah, you know, seven, eight, nine...”
“Yeah, I know,” she says. Her eyes are funny. Squinting, like. Then she smiles again. “I’ll get you some aloe, something like that to ease the burn.”
I’m not gonna argue. I had my fill for a while of that. The red doesn’t hurt. I AM used to getting sunburned. I get it out on the courses all the time. I’m kinda dark skinned, underneath. Like, I don’t look dark, but after a little red like I got now I go REAL dark. Got some Spanish blood in me and it must’ve taken over somewhere. Brown eyes. Brown hair, what’s left of it.
I finish eating and Shi clears the table. I light a smoke, the first of many, I’m sure, and have a little debate with myself. Shower now? Shower later? Don’t shower at all?
“I’m going to make the bed, then I’m gone for a while. You have everything you need?” she asks.
I nod.
That’s a lie. I don’t have anything CLOSE to what I need. I don’t even KNOW what I need, but what the hell.
As soon as she leaves the room, I know one thing I need.
Company.
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
