London Harmony: Squid Hugs (10 page)

They released mom at six that night, she looked a lot better with her clothes on and her hair done, though she moved slow from the surgery.  I had to grin at the old club cab Dodge Ram pickup with the big push bar in front of the grill.  Isaac has had that beast since I was a little girl.

He had to carefully lift mom up to the front passenger seat since she couldn't get up the little-lowered step.  Having people poking around inside your abdomen and cutting and sewing things up or whatever they do in there, makes stairs and steps a little difficult.

I hopped up into the back seat.  The interior was still as pristine as the day he bought the truck though the bed was well used.  That was a little odd.  He treated Tank like another child, and it wasn't like he hauled anything, working for the bank.

Dad asked on the short ride across Cherry Creek to the family house on Eleventh, “Where's your bags, Rita?”

I pursed my lips then admitted, “I didn't pack any.  I came as soon as I got your text.”

He glanced at me in the mirror and said, “You've grown a bit since you ran off to college.  We have all your old stuff but not much will fit now that you're... umm...  well.”

Mom chuckled at his discomfort and prodded, “You can say it Isaac, no need to blush. Now that you're a woman, Zil.  I have some stuff you can change into.  How long are you staying?”

I felt my shame rising as I blushed and asked in a quiet voice, “How long is your recovery?”

She smiled and said in a soft tone, “You'll probably want to run out and get some clothes and necessities in the morning then.”

I nodded then started to ask some questions but stopped and just gawked at the three-story Victorian home lit up in the early evening twilight. It was wedged in between two similar homes on the long block they lived on.  It looked as if it belonged in a home showcase somewhere.

Don't get me wrong, it was pretty before, and a great place to grow up in, but it was now restored to it's former glory from when it was built in the late eighteen hundreds, when Denver was still young.  The faded white I was used to seeing, was now rich hunter green with deep maroon accents.

The old, sturdy, weather-beaten porch was restored to like new.  I noted a wheelchair ramp going up between the narrow strip of yard between the houses to the level of the porches on either side, effectively and artistically joining the wraparound porches between theirs and the neighbors.  Nobody thought about accessibility back in the eighteen hundreds.

Our next door neighbor, Mr. Gonzales, always had the pride of neighborhood with his restored Victorian, and his prize roses on the other side of his brick fence with it's beautiful wrought iron gate.  But now that fence was extended in front of mom's yard, and they had a matching gate.  Instead of the little chain link fence I remember.

I noted that both of the houses now had big brass plaques on them, declaring them to be on the National Register of Historic Places, and there was an old fashioned Bed and Breakfast sign hanging over the steps on Mr. Gonzales' porch.

The yard was immaculate too.  A well groomed lilac bush at the corner of the house and a well-manicured yard with a short brick wall around the giant oak tree I used to play on.  The mammoth tree shaded the entire little front yard and it hung out over the sidewalk and street on the other side.  A far cry from the patchy lawn I used to mow with our old manual push mower.

I noted an outdoor stairway going up at the back of the porch that wasn't there before either.  I turned to mom, my mouth hanging open in shock.  Mom chuckled at me and reached back, wincing, and closed my mouth.

She chuckled out, “Isaac got a hobby.  We had to do something with all those monthly checks you insist on sending.  You really need to stop doing that baby girl.  We're fine here.”

I nodded though I wouldn't stop.  Like clockwork, each month, half of my obscenely huge paycheck was sent to my folks, since the day I started working for... no... working with, June.  I looked away from her challenge and back at the house as we pulled past and turned down the road to the alley.  Isaac hit his garage door opener, and we parked in the large two car garage that had been meticulously restored as well.

Even the interior of the garage looked like it was brand new.  I hopped out beside a small SUV, which I assumed was mom's, and paused at the rounded shape under a canvas tarp sitting in front of the vehicle.

I couldn't stop my smile.  I couldn't believe they still had her.  My old Volkswagen Bug, Lady.  Isaac laid a large paw on my shoulder when he came around to help mom down.  He assured me, “I've kept the little deathtrap running.”

He never liked the survivability numbers on a Bug versus good Detroit steel in a wreck, and always wanted me to get rid of Lady.

He helped mom down, then pulled the tarp off of the car in a sweeping motion.  I giggled.  There was my dented up, partially rusted, bright yellow Bug.  I stepped up and ran my fingers lovingly along the silly green grass and flowers that Ratiana and I had painted on her hood in a fit of silliness.  How was I supposed to know the paint wasn't water soluble?  Lady definitely turned heads.  She wasn't a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but she was mine.

They must have been saying something to me because mother had to get my attention by laying her hand on mine, where it rested on the stick figures of Ratiana and me.  My triangle that was supposed to be a skirt was black “Like Sally” and hers, blue, her favorite color.

I looked up, gave an apologetic smile, and said, “Hmm?  Sorry, what was that?”

Isaac chuckled.  “I said, I'll move them around tonight so you can use it tomorrow.  The plates are current.  Ezie can't use hers for two weeks anyway.”

I nodded and looked at the familiar dots of pitch all over my car from where I used to park it out on the narrow street under the oak tree.

We exited the garage into the little back yard, which was now lush green like the front, and a brick path now led to the covered back door, lined with dozens of kinds of flowers in neat and tidy flowerbeds.  The giant oak that matched the one up front was still there.  I glanced at the little back porch.  The stairs I saw from the front, wrapped around the back and there was a small platform at a new door into the attic space.

I smiled, when I was a little girl, I built a fort up there.  It had exposed rafters, and the exposed ceiling joists from the second floor had insulation sprayed between them.  There were sheets of plywood laid down to walk on.  They ran from the tiny attic door, from the narrow staircase from behind the linen closet, to the two arched stained glass windows on either end of the space.

A couple sheets of plywood had been tucked beside one window and it had boxes of old knickknacks and Christmas decorations and such.  I had rearranged them to make a fort, where I would go to read to be alone and imagine all the adventures I would have as I grew up.  I had still used it even when I was a teen.  Though it was much improved by then with a tiny table, little reading lamp, and a comfortable chair.

I smiled.  Rat had made some fun additions to it, including her stick figure art which we put in frames and hung on the beams on the wall, and a tunnel for her under the boxes.  The dread I thought I'd feel, being reminded of her wasn't there.  Sure, there was a heavy feeling of loss, that something was missing inside me, but the happy memories did something to soften it, to warm a part of that absence.  I was a little surprised at that.

We got mother inside.  It seems they weren't done with the surprises.  The interior was just as meticulously restored as the exterior.  And the worn linoleum in the kitchen had been torn out and what looked like original hardwood flooring, now glistened with pretty carpet runners protecting the high traffic areas.

Isaac said, “Get Ezie set up in the guest room, no need to aggravate her abdomen with the stairs for a couple days.  I'll get some tea brewing for her.”

I nodded and brought mom through the show house I barely recognized.  Once I got her settled in and tucked an extra pillow or two behind her.  Dad joined us with tea.

Then mom grabbed my hand and said, “Now that all the excitement is done, tell us about London.  Are you happy?  Is there a special someone there?  I know you write, but there is only so much you can put in a letter.”

I nodded and smiled as I shared, “Yes, I'm happy.  I have the most wonderful group of people over there who care for me.  There isn't a special someone... well there is but they don't realize I exist outside of the friend-zone.”  I shrugged.

She smiled as she grabbed my hand and postulated, “Well knowing how you are at expressing your feelings, I'd guess that you haven't told him.  That was always something you needed to work on, Zil.  He'd be lucky to have you.”

I smiled weakly at her then glanced at Isaac before looking at my hand on my mother's  I tried to remember the last time she had done that... I exhaled, realizing it was the day I left for New York for college.  I corrected her quietly and admitted, “She.  She's a woman.”

I kept my eyes down, waiting for her to withdraw her hand, I didn't really know how they would react to my admission.  Instead, she just gave me a reassuring squeeze as Isaac rumbled from where he sat in a plush chair by the vanity, “Then she'd be lucky to have you Baby Doll.”

I looked up, my eyes were brimming with tears though I really couldn't tell you why.  I looked between the two best parents a girl could have and felt my guilt resurfacing.  I had been away for so long, out of my own irrational fear of coming home.  Afraid of my own feelings, afraid of the pain.  I whispered as I looked back and forth between them, “I love you guys.”

They beamed smiles back at me, and mom asked, “What's her name?  Do you have pictures?”  She was just as excited as the first time I had a thing for one of the boys in high school.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes on my sleeve and nodded with a smile as I pulled out my cell.  I powered it up and I saw a dozen missed text messages and a couple voice mails from Jen.  I pulled up a photo of her and said with enthusiasm, “Her name is Jennifer.  She's the most amazing girl, and pretty much my best friend.”

Mom took it and looked at the picture and cocked her eyebrow and handed it over to Isaac.  He stretched out and took it and whistled when he looked at it and said, “Quite a looker.”

Mom asked, “Is she a fashion model?  Please don't say you are pining over a model, they are so high maintenance and borderline crazy.”

I chuckled at her teasing.  “No, she's not a model mom, well she did some modeling for her prior employer, but no.  She's the receptionist extraordinaire at London Harmony.  You'd really like her, she has a shoe fetish just like you.”  I contemplated that with a sly grin and added, “So maybe she is borderline crazy.”

Isaac snorted and covered his mouth.

Mom shot him a playful scolding look then she grinned at me as she defended, “A girl can never have enough shoes.”

Then the two-way, question and answer session began.  I told them everything I could about London, and my pseudo-family over there and they caught me up on the happenings in the Mile High City.  It seems that Isaac's favorite cousin, Steven, had married Missy Hannigan back in Seattle.  I had to blink at the small world.  That was one of my friend's, Brandye Franklin-Callahan's, eccentric aunt.

The painkillers were making mom drowsy so we decided to let her sleep.  I kissed her forehead and stepped out into the hall with Isaac.  He put a hand out in an ushering motion and he said as he followed me out into the living room then up the stairs, “She'll have more zip in the morning.  You look exhausted yourself.  We can visit more in the morning over breakfast.”

He stood in the hall as I turned into my room.  I blinked at it then looked back at him.  He had the cheesiest grin; white teeth standing out on his dark skin.  I murmured, “What happened?”  It was set up like a mini den, with a desk and bookshelves on every wall.  None of my stuff was anywhere.  What did I expect?  I had been gone over a third of my life.

He chuckled then said, “We moved your stuff to the attic.”

I blinked and nodded and he made an ushering motion again as he shared, “You won't be sleeping here.”

I started moving stiffly.  Thinking wildly that the only other bedroom beside theirs was... Ratiana's.  I walked mechanically beside him but exhaled in relief as we passed Ratiana's door.  I was relieved they didn't expect me to sleep in there.  I glanced inside as we passed, it was exactly as I remembered it.

I was beyond confused just then.  We reached the little narrow staircase to the attic and he motioned his hand, palm up to the stairs.  He shrugged at my confusion. “Your mother said that if you ever came back home, you'd need your own place.  It has its own door and stairs outside.”

He followed me up the stairs in my confusion, the wooden stairs protested under his weight. Then I opened the little door at the top and stepped into the attic and froze.  He just stood in the doorway, taking up the whole opening, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I turned away and took it in.  It was a gorgeous little studio apartment.  My bed was there in one corner and all of my things were neatly displayed around the great room.  There was a small kitchenette by the back door onto the stairs and the darkness of night beyond.  The stained glass windows sparkled.  The place was divided by a wall with two doors.