Me and Mom Fall for Spencer (12 page)

“Those mice were not little,” I correct.
Cyro
had some big fat mice squatting in his living
room.

The drapes take longer. I just don’t
know. I am bent over, holding beige drapes in my hand, but it’s a loose weave
and I know he won’t want people to see in. He’s got that cop-paranoia.

Spencer walks his fingers across my back
and I nearly scream, and I do that dance again and make noises and he laughs.

A woman goes by and says to another,
“Newlyweds.” And they laugh.

Well that shuts us both down for a
minute, and we gawk at one another, me and Spencer, then I hold up the package
of drapes and we laugh.

Newlyweds?
We must look like we’re in phase one or something.

We settle on some tightly woven beige
curtains with a white lining. They cost a little more but I’m thinking they’ll
be the ones he’ll like. No, he likes the filthy rags I took down today. So I
can’t listen to
Cyro
.

On the way home, we can’t be this close
to the shelter and not drop in and say hello. So we go there and Spencer learns
the Golden Retriever was adopted out that morning. He’s a little sad, or
surprised.

“You were thinking about adopting her
yourself?” I ask.

He says no, he wasn’t really. He says it
doesn’t bother him so much.

I have to see the three amigos, the lab
brothers, Dusty, Lucky and Ned. I tell Spencer this. He asks which is which and
I pick each one out.

“Sure they’re not the Three Stooges?” he
says
cause
they go wild thinking we’re there to walk
them, and they are desperate to get out of here.

I have this idea. I’m not ready to get
another dog, but maybe I am. “There’s one for
Cyro
,
one for me, one for you.”

Spencer has been petting these dogs
through their gate. Now he stands up and looks at me like he is seeing the
crazy in me plain as day. “
Cyro
can’t handle a dog. He
doesn’t even get out of that chair from what I saw today. And I’m not thinking
of getting a dog. Not just any dog.”

“Ned’s not a just any dog,” I say.

“You mean Moe?” he says. “We’d be
bringing three dogs onto one
neighborhood street
.
The noise alone, the shit alone, the chaos.
We’d be
volunteering for it.
Cyro
would kill you if you
brought him this hyper dog. These guys are all hysterical.”

“They’re in a cage! If they could have a
yard and move around, chase birds and stuff, they’d be normal.”

“They’ve never been normal,” Spencer
says, but then he speaks baby-talk to Ned/Moe while he rubs its frantically
sniffing, snuffling nose.

“They smell those mice on you,” I say.

Spencer laughs. “They do not. I washed
my hands.”

“You used
Cyro’s
soap, that cracked white bar with the black flecks on it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, don’t say it.
Been
there since the nineties.
Man, even his soap is retro-disgusting,” Spencer
says, and we laugh like crazy over that.

“He’s so cute,” I say, meaning Ned as
five minutes later he eagerly hops in the cab of my truck and starts sniffing
over the seat. Spencer and I get in each side and slam our doors.

“He’s just glad to be away from his
brothers,” Spencer laughs,
then
to Ned, “Aren’t you
buddy? I know what you mean, brothers are nuts and getting locked up sucks, huh
Buddy.”

I don’t say anything and Spencer
swallows hard, but Ned between us means a tail in my face, and a nose shoved in
his. He laughs a little and makes Ned get on the floor by his feet. He’s
talking to him, calming him down and stroking his black fur. Spencer shoots me
a look and I’m just looking back. But I don’t say anything, I just drive.

Me and Mom Fall for
Spencer

Chapter Nineteen

Spencer insists on keeping Ned with him
while I return to
Cyro’s
and
try
to get enough order to call it a day. He’s so stubborn about it.

“You’re welcome,” he calls as I’m walking
away.

I still haven’t opened the new file Aaron
sent me.

I finish putting all of the old magazine
and newspapers that line
Cyro’s
walls in the trash
cans. I make
Cyro
a couple of sandwiches and wash the
filthy picture window and put the new drapes on the
rod
.
Then I put some sticky traps around and try not to lose my nerve.

Well
Cyro
isn’t happy about it. He won’t say anything, but he’s not yelling about it
either. After I put his food on the tray I say, “See you tomorrow,” and he
gives me a little speech about not needing to come over every day.

“I’m going to chip away at it and it’s
going to take me a while.”

“I don’t want that,” he says, his voice
so thick and heavy.

“I’m going to do it because it’s the
best thing.”

“Hell it is. This is my house.”

“Well you can have it, so you know.” Then
I use Spencer’s deal, “Oh and you’re welcome.”

That’s our goodnight then. I run across
the street and I hear Ned barking in Spencer’s backyard and it feels like so
much life coming from Frieda’s, it just keeps growing like seed in good soil,
growing….

Mom is already home.

“You at
Cyro’s
?”
she says, feet on the coffee table. There are two new cans of paint on the
floor near her. “
Gonna
start on Spencer’s living room
tonight,” she says, lift of her chin.

“He
know
?”

“Of course.
He’s supplying the beer.”

That throws me a little. I don’t know
why. I have no claim on him, on his time at all. But he didn’t mention
it--painting.
Beers with Mom.

“Christine is coming to help. You should
too.”

And Horny.
Beers with Mom and Horny.

We look at one another.

“No thanks,” I say quickly. I have too
much work and anyway, I’m not doing that.

I look in the kitchen to see what
produce I need to cook up before it goes bad. There’s some eggplant I need to
fry so I do that and as I’m finishing Spencer is at my backdoor with Ned. “Sarah
can I use your truck? I need to get this crazy dog some food.”

“I got some,” I say because I do still
have some from King. I get that out of the pantry and Spencer thanks me. He
wants to pay and I say no.

He asks me what I’m cooking. I open the
door for him and Ned. “Come in and eat,” I say.

“I can’t eat with you again,” he says,
but I want him to. I don’t get tired of him for some reason.

“This is pity…right?” He’s saying that,
but Ned decides for him and enters, nose to the floor.

I can’t pet him because I’m cutting up
salad.

Mom calls Spencer from the living room
and Ned goes in to say hello, and Mom screams. Spencer hurries in there. He
yells at Ned to get down.

So there’s some chaos then and Ned comes
slinking into the kitchen and goes under the table and lays there, his tail
beating the floor with a couple of nervous thumps.

Mom is talking to Spencer about
painting. He seems to know about it. I wonder why he didn’t tell me, but he
doesn’t have a reason to.

They seem friendly so I guess there are
no hard feelings over the way she turned on him at the restaurant. I am
relieved and sorry at the same time. I don’t know why people give Mom a pass
sometimes. Well Fred didn’t. Not in the end.

Spencer is back. “Can I have a piece of
that?” he means the eggplant. I get a plate and hand it to him. I fill it for
him so he isn’t confused. Pretty soon I’ll have salad. He pulls out a chair and
sits right where I’m working. Ned gets on his feet, nails clicking on the tile.
He sniffs toward Spencer and sticks his head out from under the table. Spencer
speaks sternly to him. “You already had all my baloney.”

Ned lies back down and his tail thumps
again.

“You tell
Cyro
about him?” The eggplant is hot but that doesn’t stop him from burning his
mouth to take a bite. I get a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the
table. He breaks the lid and chugs. “Thanks,” he says when he sets the bottle. “This
stuff is amazing.”

He digs right into another piece and the
steam breaks between the meat and the batter, but that doesn’t slow him down. His
lips are shiny and he’s chewing fast, sips water and smiles at me. He has a
piece of batter on his lips and his tongue goes there.
Sheesh
I’m staring.

“You like to see people enjoy your food,”
he says like he just figured something out. But he hasn’t figured out anything.

I finish the salad and mix dressing and
he watches while he eats and I mix the food and fill another plate for him and
set it there. He hums when he digs into my salad. He rolls his eyes. “Oh man,”
he says, and I hold on to the back of a chair and it’s so much fun to take care
of him, to feed him. Ned is licking my feet.

I squeal a little and step back quick
and laugh
cause
I’m still
creeped
out from
Cyro’s
. I squat and scratch Ned all over and
he rolls onto his back and groans.

“You just stole him from me,” Spencer
says. “He can’t resist you, Sullivan, he’s male.”

I look up, and Mom is entering the
kitchen. She looks at me and goes to the drawer and digs out a cigarette. I
hadn’t realized they were in there. I’ll be throwing them out later.

She lights a smoke and blows the haze
over the table where my food sits. “Sure you don’t want to start tonight?”

“Thanks, but no. Not with this wild
beast around. Figured paint fumes wouldn’t help. I have to get him calmed
down,” Spencer says. “Let me know what I owe you for the paint though.”

I look at him. Guess he’s not thinking
Ned is for
Cyro
. That’s what I hoped, that Spencer
would fall in love with him and that would be one down for the amigos.

“Want to go with me and Christine and
meet a couple of the locals for a drink? Well we meet there, at the
Longbranch
. Time you got out of the house maybe?”

He’s been out of the house, I want to
say. He’s been with me—Farmer’s Market, park, Big-Mart and the dog shelter. Church,
not that it was my idea…the diner and that embarrassment. But he’s been out. Now
that she’s on the scene she thinks it’s the only thing that counts.
The
Longbranch
?
I’d have to go in
drunk.

Spencer is wiping his hands on a napkin.
“Maybe I’ll come by later,” he says, looking at me, and I look away and keep
scratching on Ned who is putting his big paw on my leg like I need to keep
going. Spencer gestures toward the dog again.
“Traitor.”

“Suit
yourself
,”
Mom says dousing the nasty cigarette in the sink. “Don’t wait up, kiddo,” she
says to me as she exits the kitchen.

Like I ever do.

I wash my hands and get a plate. Ned is
right at my feet now, tap dancing along as I try to walk. Spencer rebukes him,
tells him to get over by him. Soon as Ned is close Spencer pushes him back
under the table and tells him to stay. When I sit down Ned’s head is in my lap
right away. Spencer pushes his chair back and looks under the table and he
pulls Ned away. He’s trying to get him to lie down. Ned whines.

“Told you he wouldn’t be able to resist
you,” Spencer says.

Well, my privates anyway.

I’m trying not to burn my mouth as I
bite and chew the hot food.

“You ever eat meat?” he says.

“Sure,” I say. “I like…meat.
Fried chicken?”

“Oh yeah.
But maybe we can get a steak…tomorrow night. I can’t be eating your food all
the time.”

Whatever.
Feels like compensation to me. He wants to go to the
Longbranch
,
he’ll be the steak. If that’s what he wants have at it.

“How about it?
A steak?
Know where to get one?”

I shrug as I eat. Ned is back and Spencer
fusses at him again, makes him lay.

I will be up much of the night tackling Aaron’s
file. That’s after I walk.
And tomorrow…
Cyro’s
house.
I have the garden to pick tomorrow to get ready for Wednesday’s
market. I can’t start going out. There’s no room for that.
Drinkers,
stinkers, winkers, tinkers, shirkers, lurkers…
twerkers
.

“I don’t know,” I say. “
Cyro
….”

“I’ll help you with that…tomorrow.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.
You get some of the stuff around…for the critters?”

“Yes.” I shudder.

“You just get a
hee
-bee?”

Maybe I did. I smile and keep eating.

When it’s time to walk he is on the
porch with Ned. Pastor Stanley has
come
calling just
like I knew he would. Spencer sees me, but he doesn’t wave but he looks at Stanley,
then at me. He wants to watch me and it fills me with two kinds of dread, one
that he’ll catch up and want to walk with me, and two that he’ll get tired of
watching me and he’ll want to watch something else…someone else.

His hands are in his pockets and Stanley
has his back to the street and he’s talking away and Ned runs around the side
of the house and sticks his nose right where the sun don’t shine on Pastor Stanley
and Spencer yells, “Oh shit,” then I hear him telling Stanley he’s sorry and I
just keep on going cause it’s the funniest thing.

And I think of how much I’ve laughed
today. A lot, that’s for certain.

I take my time and do patrol right. I
touch the bricks at the corner of the
rental,
shine
the light three times back and forth in the yard. I signal to Merle and he
answers. He wants me to wait. I do and he comes onto his porch wearing striped
pajamas, a silky bathrobe and slippers. He looks right out of a black and white
movie.

“Sarah…I wanted to speak with you first.
 
Sit down.”

I sit on the top step and Meryl sits on
the metal chair.

“Donna is coming down first of next
week. We’re thinking of moving into assisted living in Florida.”

“What?”

“Pearlie…it’s warmer…and we’d be closer
to Donna…and I’d have help.”

“I…you didn’t tell me.”

“You’ve done…do enough. We couldn’t have
lasted this long without you and
Leeanne
. But…it’s
time.”

“You’re alright, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m going to be eighty, Sarah.
Things aren’t what they used to be kid.”

I don’t know what to say. He just threw
a hand-grenade at me.

“I know you’ll think this is some
failing on your part, I know how you think, but it’s not anything like that.”

What else could it be? I’d met Donna
once or twice over the years. Donna is a root vegetable. “You can’t just…I mean
your friends are here.”

“Yes and it hurts to leave them. But I
have to do what’s best for us. It’s not fair to put more on you girls.”

“
Leeanne
and
me…we’re all….”

“Sarah, listen to me. We stayed an extra
year because of you girls. But time doesn’t stand still. Sometimes I wish it
did, or at least dragged its feet a little, but the truth is, time is never
stuck…even if we are.”

I don’t know why he’s saying this. He’s
so damn philosophical about everything. I already know I’ve stayed…stuck. I
know that. But there is nowhere else…no one else. Places don’t pull at
me…people do. People are my geography…my better lands…my uncharted waters…my
familiar terrain.
People.

But I can’t say this. I’ve just now
figured it out.

“We’ll visit,” I say.

“Sarah,” he whispers. He shakes his head.
“If I could leave here believing that…it would make it so much easier.”

“We will,” I say firmly.

Later, I knock on
Leeanne’s
door. She is sitting in the living room working at the coffee table on her
macramé. Sometimes she brings these to the market. They are always one of a
kind. Sometimes, she gets an offer and refuses to sell. Her cats sit around
her. And her little dogs.

“Stop checking on me,” she whines. She
is in her pajamas.