Me and Mom Fall for Spencer (24 page)

Me
and Mom Fall for Spencer

Chapter Thirty-six

This strange woman at Spencer’s door
looks over my shoulder, her face lifting like she sees the thing she’s ached to
see.

Spencer is behind me. He stays where he
is, center of the room.

“Erich,” she says.

“Spencer,” he repeats. “Do you really
think I’d keep his name?”

“Oh,” is all she says and I get out of
the way as she flies past. She has thrown herself against him and his arm has
gone around her, the other hand hangs limply at his side. He looks at me, but mostly
it’s her.

He’s Erich.

She is crying and he just seems to allow
it, not disrespectful, but not moved. Not touched. I realize my hands are
gathered over my mouth, like I’m trying to hold in any kind of reaction. Is
fainting allowed? I might. I feel the swim and move to the wall because I need
a spine. I don’t want to sit on the couch because that would bring me further
in to the room and I can never be trapped here again. I do not like feeling
surprise on this level…here. Not here.

Cataclysmic as it must be to hold her,
to see her, to feel her
emotion,
his eyes are on me
now. “Are you alright?” he asks.

I nod and the woman pulls away, her face
only, so she can look into his. But her arms she keeps around him. “I’ve been
so worried.”

He doesn’t answer that, chews on his
lip. “Sarah,” he says to me, “I’ll….”

I
nod,
eager to
get outside. I don’t want to leave him, but I can’t stay. He has not introduced
me and I know him well enough to understand this is deliberate.

I go out, hearing her voice. She asks
who I am.

I go down his stairs. I hurry. A month
ago I didn’t know him. I didn’t pine for him. He had no power over me.
A month ago.
Now there’s only him. I am locked in. I am
locked in.

Across the street
Cyro’s
drapes are open, and behind he cares for Dusty.

I think I want him—
Cyro
—his
presence a mighty oak…diseased, yes, but still standing. But if I go, he’ll say
what’s the matter and I won’t answer. I’ll make him eggs and he’ll be happy,
he’ll take them. He’ll let me be strange. He won’t ask twice.

I see Mom’s car. She is going to go back
to work today, but she’s still here.

She sits in the kitchen, at the table, a
cloud of smoke fogging the overhead light, Mom’s light, a bowl by her elbow
holding the bones of so many others…she’s devoured.

“
Cyro
has a
dog,” she says instead of all the other things she might.

He does.

“He seems to…he likes it.” She looks
off, pinching her top lip with her thumb and little finger, same hand that
holds the cigarette.

I don’t know this place. It’s hers. I
have no
home,
I have a piece of all the homes, but
none that’s mine.

“She over there?”
Mom asks nodding toward Spencer’s.

“Who?”
I say.

“Miss Hoity-
Toit
.”

I have to laugh.

“She came here first. Calls him Erich,”
Mom says.

Now I’m not laughing. “Who is she?” I
say since she’s so full of knowledge this morning.

“Hell if I know. Queen Bee.”

“What about A. R.? You spent time with
him.
Cyro
was going to run his plates but he never
did.”

“
Cyro
still up to that?”
She blows a raspberry and stubs out her
smoke. “He said his company rented out the house. He had work in the area.”

“What kind of work?”

“Investigative, he said.
Insurance.”

I don’t believe that. He’d always been
watching Spencer.

“He’s gone anyway,” she says,
steepling
her hands against her chin and staring off.

“Think any more about moving out?” I
never bring these types of things up.

She’s surprised.
“Maybe.”

I already know she’s not going anywhere.
I leave the kitchen and go to the window that looks across to Spencer’s. The
view isn’t great. He never did finish cleaning the fence row. But I can see
over there and the house is quiet, like always.

Mom comes up behind me. “Figure he’ll go
back where he came from?” She’s looking over there with me.

“He…asked me to marry him.”

I feel her insides contract. It’s subtle
of course and probably my imagination, but I feel it. I don’t even know if he’s
already changed his mind.

Mom’s hand is on my arm. “Did you say
yes?”

I look at her briefly and nod.

“Sarah,” she whispers, and I can’t tell
what kind of whisper it is, but her hand falls away.

After a minute, she’s back in the
kitchen, I hear the chair scrape and hear the match, but I don’t answer their
forlorn call. For too long I’ve served those very cues, and now…I don’t want
to.

What is clear, I need to get dressed for
Leeanne
and Pearlie. I have a lot to do.

Back downstairs and Spencer has not
appeared to knock on my door. I am in the kitchen making
Cyro
a sandwich to take over before I go to Pearlie’s. Donna had to go home, but
she’s contracted for a moving company to pack up Pearlie’s house.
Leeanne
and Pearlie fly out tomorrow, also me, and Spencer…Erich...maybe
Cyro
, are taking them to the airport. But now there’s
an if
…if…if….

But today, Pearlie says good-bye to the
grave. She is leaving Merle here until resurrection day, she says, when the
body is called out of the earth and they’ll meet in the sky.
 
 

Mom’s head is on the table now. She naps
here sometimes, like that, usually too much wine when she does and I don’t see
wine today. Today it’s the news. I’ve said yes…to him. And I don’t know if he
meant it…now…this hour later while he’s still in the house with the woman who
calls him Erich. I don’t know, and my hands are shaking as I lay turkey on
bread.

I put it together, and Mom raises and
sees what I’m doing and I ask if she wants one, and she doesn’t answer, but
comes to where I am working at the counter and she gently elbows me aside. “I’ll
do this.”

“It’s for
Cyro
,”
I say.

“I’ll take it,” she says.

“You?”

She looks at me. “I can’t take the man a
sandwich?”

I have too many answers, too many things
I could say, words not even strung together, but they’re crowding my throat
like men looking for work, raising their fists saying, ‘me next,’ to the union
boss or something. What in the hell does she mean, ‘can’t she take a man a sandwich?’

She never has.

Me and Mom Fall for
Spencer

Chapter Thirty-seven

Mom takes the sandwich to
Cyro’s
. I watch her walk across the street. It’s not that
she hasn’t…wouldn’t go over there. There have been reasons over the years,
since Sue died.
 

But she doesn’t go like this, for him. Not
even after they took his leg, not even then. I went. He became mine. It all
became mine.

But I’m watching her now. I’m watching
the world tip upside down and turn
itself
inside out
so the lava cools and turns into new countries and the old countries compost
and overheat and burn into a molten mass deep in the place where a heart should
be.

That’s how the earth renews…every once
in a while. That’s how it renews today.

I am going to drive Merle’s Cadillac to
the cemetery so I’m walking to Pearlie’s. I pass Spencer’s house and a chunk of
my heart rips away as I do not see him and he does not call out to me. When I
reach the rental next door, an expensive car sits in the driveway and a man
bursts out of the door.

“Hey, excuse me…Miss?”

He’s another one, tied to the strange
woman…to Spencer. I stop because it would be weird not to. He wears tan colored
pants and a white shirt unbuttoned, a white t-shirt beneath. It’s chilly out,
but his sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he’s big, but not fat, just big
and he moves loosely as he hurries down the steps and up to me. He looks like
he’s slept in the shirt. He has dark close-cropped hair and a handsome face,
and he wears jewelry, a necklace of some kind and a ring, a big ring that says
he’s accomplished something.

“You’re Sarah Sullivan?” he says getting
close enough.

“How…do you…know?”

“Sorry.” He actually blushes and smiles
and strong teeth, white as the shirts. “I’ve seen your pictures.” He points to Spencer’s
house then, “Erich.”

I am a quick thinker, slow speaker. I
know it’s A.
R..
He took pictures. It’s a hell of a
thing to learn.

“Oh,” he says, “I’m Erich’s…cousin. Davis.”

I already knew. I just knew.

“Yeah, I brought…our mother. He uh…he
won’t see me. She’s a…in there with him now.”

All I can do is bite my lip and stare.

“So ah…he gardens?” he asks this with
good nature, but he’s smirking. There’s
a sadness
in
him, and he rubs the back of his neck.

“You spied on us,” I finally say.

“Oh…sorry.
It’s just…when we realized he was here…we sent someone to make sure…see if he
was alright.” He’s boyish, the way he speaks. Likeable…dimples. If not for Spencer,
what I’ve felt, if not for that I might even trust him.

“You thought he wasn’t…alright?” I say.

“We didn’t know. We hadn’t heard from
him in almost two years.”

I nod. I’m in a vice here—between what I
know and what I don’t.
Between Spencer and him…the cousin
with the same mother?
I don’t want to learn anything from Davis. It’s
hard to not know, to let him see I don’t. Of course, he could never believe I
mean anything to Spencer if I don’t know…the basics. And I don’t.

“Well…nice meeting you. I…” I point down
the street and take off.

“Sarah,” he calls after. I stop and
turn. “I don’t know what he told you…but I love him, you know? He’s…like my
brother. I’m…just here to make amends…if I can.”

I turn away and continue to walk. I
almost run.

We stand at the grave, the three of us,
Pearlie, her red hair exploding around the sides of the pancake hat.
Leeanne
silent,
shrouded in a navy blue poncho she loves to try and hide her body in.
I
know this because she calls it her hide-a-body and it’s older than many
people’s old dogs.

My arms hang stupidly because death is
so beyond our control we have to hire people to say the right things and get us
through the ritual of painting the body to look natural…naturally not dead. And
I sure don’t have a thing to say.

“Donna wanted him cremated so she could
take him to Florida,” Pearlie says, sad amusement in her eyes. “He hated…vases.”

For a minute we don’t say anything, but
Leeanne
is the first to laugh. Merle might have hated vases
but he really would have hated saddling Pearlie with his remains. The fact
Donna didn’t know said a lot. Merle never wanted to be anyone’s responsibility.
He said, “Plant me and be done with it.” He said that more than once.

When we’re quiet again
Leeanne
says, “We put people in the earth, then we buy two
boxes…a box in a box to protect them from the earth. It’s just to get our
money. It’s stupid.”

There’s a wind. Pearlie’s hat blows off
and
Leeanne
goes off to chase it, her poncho trying
to act like a kite.

Pearlie and
me
laugh.

“Merle did that,” Pearlie says as
Leeanne’s
back, handing the hat to her.

Leeanne
looks at me and we laugh some more.
Pearlie too.

“Will you watch over him, Sarah?”
Pearlie says. “Put some flowers here on his birthday?”

Wow. She knows I don’t take this
lightly. I’ve got a couple of others here…Fred Sullivan and Sue Brown. We only
tiptoe past Fred, glad he’s six feet under and hoping he can’t dig out. But
Sue, we bring her flowers now and then…Jason and me.

“Could you leave here?” Spencer asked
me. I’ve never been so uncertain before. I am nailed here. That makes it my
cross. That makes me its savior.

“I can do that,” I tell Pearlie.

That’s when my truck pulls up and Spencer
is driving. He gets out of the truck and he’s got his guitar. My heart…well my
heart. The fact he’s here…I don’t need words. He’s here.

I
fold
my
hands and go up on my toes and back down.
Leeanne
is
looking at me, shaking her head, hiding her face in her hair as she smiles. What
she doesn’t realize, he’s strumming a few chords from the song he continually
writes about me—
She’s
a girl, she’s a girl.

I look at him, and he’s strumming like
that as he approaches, his eyes taking my pulse, my temperature, reading my
retinas. I see the swollen knuckles on his guitar hand. I see the fat lip, too.

He comes up near me and he switches to “Amazing
Grace.” He already knows from the funeral this was Merle’s stand by. Pearlie is
smiling at Spencer while he plays. Mostly he looks at me and I see it…the
turmoil he almost masks with the lovely hymn. When he’s finished he says,
“Anything else Merle liked Miss Pearlie?”

“Well,” Miss Pearlie says, “he liked a
little James Brown.”

We have to crack up then.
Leeanne
especially.
Miss Pearlie just made
Leeanne’s
year.

“Okay,” Spencer says and he does his
best for a white boy.

Miss Pearlie is smiling ear to ear. I
can’t look at him. He’s kind of being sexual, flinging his head around and moving
his shoulders some…and his hips. We’re all blushing. Even Miss Pearlie is
flushed and
Leeanne
looks about ready to die.

But there is no stopping him, and he
puts his whole self into it and Pearlie stands there clutching her purse and
listening like Merle might rise for the guitar instead of the trumpet.

Spencer falls to his knees for the
finale.

As he leaps back onto his feet, Miss
Pearlie has moved her bag to her arm and she’s rapidly clapping her hands. Her
teeth are locked in such a grin that her cheeks are bunched into little
dumplings. No one should be this happy at a fresh grave, should they?

“Oh that was real nice,” Pearlie says.

Leeanne
takes Pearlie’s arm because our memorial service is apparently over.

We are behind the two walking to Merle’s
car. Spencer takes hold of my hand.
“You alright Sarah?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Can you ride with me?” He’s turning
them on me, the lasers, the sting rays, the death rays. He’s desperately
worried, knocked off center. Their sudden arrival has rattled him deep down.

“No,” I say.
Leeanne
won’t drive Merle’s car. So Spencer ends up having to follow us back to the
neighborhood. I park the vehicle and see Pearlie inside. She has a box of
things she wants me to take. I can see the big green ceramic ballerina top of
the box, also the ceramic
black panther
with his mouth
open and his gold teeth.
Leeanne’s
trying not to
laugh again.

“Thanks Pearlie.”

I’ll see them in the morning when I take
them to the airport.

I come downstairs and Spencer has the
truck running. I walk on by him with my box of treasures and junk. I can see
the rental right
away,
see the fancy car is gone.

My truck is pointed the opposite way. Spencer
calls me, but I keep walking with the box. I hear him pull off and I know he’s
turning around. It’s win-over-Sarah time.

“Hey pretty girl,” he says driving along
as I walk. Thankfully I am almost to the driveway. I cross it and he pulls in. “Sarah,”
he’s saying, cranking the door.

I keep walking and he catches up, takes
my arm. “Hey,” he says, eyes searching.
 
“Here, give this to me.”

He takes the clinking box. Our dogs have
spotted us from in the yard and they’re going crazy. Mom’s car is still here. I
lead the way and we go inside. I take the box upstairs and he tells me he’s
going to be in back with the dogs.

I can’t bear to look through the box
yet, so I set it on my bed and go back down. Mom isn’t around. Surely she’s not
still at
Cyro’s
. Spencer is sitting on the deck
stairs. I sit beside him. He puts his arm around me, the sore hand close to my
face and kisses my temple with his fat lips. I hurt I love him so much.

“You made them leave,” I say.

“Yes. It was ridiculous…they rent a
house next door.
Only my family, Sarah.
They have
money without borders. I’m so sorry you had to have that come in so suddenly
not even knowing who…or what…. All I could think was to get you as far away
from it. Baby…I’m so sorry.”

I can still see how upset he is. He’d
masked it at the cemetery. But I’m not going to make this so easy by saying all
the words. I’m upset too. They are his family and he hasn’t introduced me. I
said I’d marry him. I want to be a part of his life, his whole life. And he’s
sent them away.

“It doesn’t change anything…just like I
told you. Sarah?”

“It does for me. I didn’t get to meet
them.”

He’s taken aback. I can feel the big
uht
-oh shaking through him. “No, Baby. No. I walked away…a
couple of years ago.
For reasons.
They don’t get to
meet you.”

“Was she your mom?” She barely looked
old enough. She is beautiful.
 
Like him.

“My aunt acting like my
mother.”

He threads his fingers through mine. He
won’t let the dogs come too close but stamps his foot and they step back. “I…it
was my cousin…you met….”

“Davis?”

“Yeah, the ass.
He told me he met you.”

“He came out when I was walking to
Pearlie’s and introduced
himself
.” That’s how I had to
meet him.

“What did he say to you?”

“He said he knew me.
From
pictures.
He said…he loves you.” I don’t know if I’m defending them or
my right to know them.

“Oh geez that ass.”

“Did you punch him?”

He checks his hand. “He has no
boundaries, approaching you like that.”

“He…hit back?” I ask motioning to his
swollen lip.

“Um…no.
I hit it on his shoulder…somehow. He had no right to approach you. It
got…heated. You’re mine to introduce…or not. He had no right,” he repeats. He’s
intense.

“The only weird thing was me not
knowing…anything. I felt embarrassed.”

This gives him pause. “I knew I’d have
to tell you, and I wanted to do it in my own time.”

“When?”

“I don’t expect you to understand…but
you’re mine…my girl…my friend…my choice…the woman I want to be with,” he kisses
my hand, my lips. He feels over my face like a blind man. “They can’t touch
you. Not you. I’ll give my life to protect you. I won’t allow anyone to hurt
you. Not if I can prevent it.”

“Are they so bad?” I finally whisper. There
is something so deep in him…an almost frantic concern, as if they’d tried to
kidnap me.