Family Affair (37 page)

Gitana laughed. "I think it was brilliant. It makes people grow. You've grown a lot."

Chase looked up from chopping olives with a new stainless steel meat cleaver. "Really?"

"Really. Dinner smells fabulous. Your cooking skills have improved as well."

Chase slipped Annie a piece of feta which the dog adored. Annie must have been a Greek sheep herder in a previous life. "I hope so."

Chapter Twenty-Five

"What the hell are you two supposed to be?" Chase said, standing in the living room staring at Nora and Eliza.

Nora was dressed in all black with numerous brightly colored socks of purple and orange and yellow stuck all over her. Eliza was dressed completely in pink with what looked like a white plastic pot as a hat.

"She's static cling and I'm the fabric softener," Eliza said.

Chase didn't have to wonder whose idea this was. Nora smiled at her sheepishly.

Gitana came around the corner. She'd been getting dressed in the den. They'd moved a futon bed in there because the stairs were too steep for Gitana who couldn't see her feet on the way down because of her protruding belly and had almost fallen. Now they lived downstairs and Chase did all the running upstairs for things they needed. She was getting quite fit.

"Oh, you guys look so cute—fabric softener and static cling. How inventive is that," Gitana said.

Chase frowned. How the hell did she know that? Nora gave her a smug look. Halloween was a stupid holiday anyway—candy and weird outfits. The only thing she really liked about it was the pumpkins. She grew pumpkins in her garden. She grew them in their own special patch. They fascinated her. She had Howdens that by fall were simply enormous, Jack-o-Lites and Small Sugars that could be used for baking or as carving pumpkins, and the decorative Rouge Vif'd'Etampes. From a fluted yellow flower and a vine came this hard plump thing. It never ceased to amaze and delight her.

She usually managed to find homes for all of them. She kept two of each kind for next year's seeds. Addison had chosen one of the Howden pumpkins. It was the largest pumpkin either of them had seen. Addison had been tentative about taking it. "I mean, it is the biggest one."

"So?" Chase had said, snapping the vine carefully with the hoe. She loaded it into the bright red wheelbarrow—like that one poem by who—she couldn't remember, a guy with a weird name. She remembered exactly how the type fit on the page— short lines in a neat rectangle. She'd have to scour her English Lit books until she found it. It was twentieth century, at least that would narrow the search.

"Well, what if someone else wants it?" Addison said, touching the smooth skin. "It's so perfect."

"You got here first and you want it. Have you been listening to that Evangelical radio show again?" Chase thought Addison sounded like Lacey after yoga practice—all full of my brother, my sister, my planet speak that they all spouted. She eyed Addison suspiciously.

"No," Addison said. She didn't look at Chase. "All right. Yes. I find their dogma interesting."

"You're not going to become a Jesus freak are you?"

"Or course not. It's research." Addison stroked the pumpkin again.

"So why are you worried about your fellow man or woman wanting your pumpkin?" Chase positioned the pumpkin in the wheelbarrow so it wouldn't roll when they took it down the slight incline from the garden to the driveway. They'd have to use the dog ramp to roll it up into the Hummer.

"I'm not."

"You know, being a writer is a selfish-grab-what's-out-there kind of profession. If you want the pumpkin you got to take it."

"I want the pumpkin. I am a real writer and I'm giving you my radio until I'm cured."

"Good. Now lead on." Chase hoisted up the wheelbarrow handles and started toward the driveway.

Addison picked up the hoe and carried it over her shoulder looking a bit like a small Russian peasant of the kind Chase imagined in a Tolstoy novel.

"Chase, will you help me get my face on," Gitana said, yanking Chase abruptly from her musings in pumpkin-land. Gitana had dyed her hair green and was wearing an all orange suit. Chase was to attach the black triangle-shaped things to the Velcro patches on Gitana's stomach to make a jack-o-lantern face. Chase wanted a sinister mouth. Gitana opted for a smile. A pumpkin was the only thing they could figure out for a very pregnant lady. It was either that or Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum, but Chase refused to be Dum, it was a matter of pride. Besides, Delia and Graciela would never let her live it down. Instead, she was an Oompa Loompa.

"That looks good," Nora said, coming over to straighten out the nose.

Chase, Nora and Eliza stepped back and surveyed Gitana's stomach.

"You make a great jack-o-lantern," Nora said, giving Gitana a hug.

"What about me?" Chase said, donning her yellow rubberized wig. She had white pants puffed out at the hips by taking the pockets out, stuffing them with batten, and then sewing them on the outside of the pants and a blue T-shirt. She had thought it quite ingenious.

"Well, of course you look fine," Nora said, diplomatically. Eliza smiled and nodded.

Chase had the distinct impression she was being humored and she didn't like it.

"We better get going," Gitana said, taking Chase's arm.

"I'm not going to like the party. Delia probably has some repulsive ideas for party games, like butt darts or bobbing for cow eyeballs," Chase said as they all got in the Hummer.

She'd removed the bear and the car seat so they'd have more room. Her Oompa Loompa pants caught on the gearshift. She wrestled with it. Looking over at Gitana she could see that she was doing her best not to laugh. Nora leaned forward to see what the holdup was. Chase caught her eye. "Not a fucking word," she said.

Nora glanced at Gitana. It was too much. They laughed until tears started.

Eliza leaned forward and pulled Chase free. "Minor wardrobe malfunction."

This statement got everyone going including Eliza.

"We'll just call her Chase Jackson," Nora said, between gasps.

"This is not the least bit funny," Chase said, starting the car. She tucked her protruding pants beneath the seat belt so there wouldn't be anymore "malfunctions."

Then as a payback, she shoved the Willy Wonka CD into the player, thinking that'll teach you all to fuck with an Oompa Loompa.

In preparation for this, Gitana opened the glove box, almost hitting her head on the dash as they bumped down the dirt road from their house to the county road. She pulled out a box of twelve neon orange earplugs and handed four of them to Nora and Eliza like she was passing out gum drops.

Chase was indignant. "That's not fair."

"To use a cliche, life's not fair." Gitana inserted her earplugs and looked out the window.

"Much better," Nora said, easing back in her seat.

Chase turned it up.

Eliza leaned forward. "I don't mind it. It's kind of fun."

"Thank you, Eliza. Nora doesn't deserve you."

"What was that?" Nora screamed over the music.

"Nothing," Chase said smugly.

They pulled up in front of Delia's run-down Victorian house, which was completely out of place with the rest of the squat, square adobe houses with their neatly xeriscaped yards full of red salvia, purple sage and Spanish broom—all drought resistant plants and thus politically correct. Delia's yard was horribly overgrown with orange trumpet vines, Hawthorn and Sweet Briar Rose crawling up one side of the porch. A wisteria, unsupported so it leaned over like an old woman with osteoporosis, killed the grass beneath it. Untrimmed cypress lined one side of the yard and neglected pink, yellow and white rose bushes lined the other side. A moss-covered birdbath sat in the center of the yard with bird poop covering every inch of it.

"This place is disgusting," Chase said as they pulled up front.

Eliza looked mortified. Nora squeezed her hand.

"It's a great place for a Halloween party. Look, they even have pumpkins on the front porch," Gitana said brightly.

"This place looks like the Bate's Motel," Nora said as they got out of the car.

"All it needs is the sputtering neon sign," Chase said. Why the hell her mother had let her watch those Alfred Hitchcock movies was a mystery. Even now, she didn't like taking showers when no one was home, didn't feel safe around chef's knives and was scared shitless by large flocks of birds.

"Do not sit down on the toilet seat," Chase said.

Eliza's eyes got big. She was a neat freak.

Nora put her arm around her shoulder. "We'll go together."

As they walked up the front steps, the ruckus inside was definitely
 
not
 
above
  
OSHA
 
standards.
  
Chase found this reassuring—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Then, she got her Oompa Loompa pants caught on the door knob.

"Those pants are a hazard," Nora said.

"You actually came," Delia said. She gave her a big hug.

"They made me," Chase said, looking around for items of perversion and health hazards. There didn't appear to be any.

A young woman dressed as Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz hopped up and dashed toward Chase. "Is it really you?"

Chase stood puzzled.

"Number one fan," Delia said. "This is Donna."

"Nice to meet you," Chase said.

"You two have a chat and I'll bring you a beer," Delia said. She led the rest of them off.

"I've read absolutely everything you've written. I just love it all," Donna gushed.

"Thanks." Chase always felt uncomfortable meeting fans. One of her writing manuals had elucidated at great length about dealing with readers. How readers often created literary personas on their own and were horribly disappointed when the creators of their favorite works didn't live up to their fantasies. Not to mention, Chase was meeting an adoring fan while dressed as an Oompa Loompa. Delia better hurry up with that beer. If she'd set her up, Chase would kill her.

"Are you always that funny?" Donna dressed as Dorothy asked.

Chase stared at her dark hair in ponytails, pale skin with drawn on freckles and thought she did kind of look like Judy Garland. She could be nice and funny. It wouldn't hurt her and she'd make this woman happy. "Only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."