Authors: Alle Wells
I ran after her and yelled, “If you ever bring a man in this house again, I’ll throw you out like a piece of trash.”
Flo stood in the bathroom and held up the blue vase that Marianne made for me. “Oh yeah? And what do you have to say about this? Huh, tell me about your
cousin
! Sophia told me all about your sick love for her.”
Fury came over me like a madman. I wanted to put my hands around her throat and watch her die. Flo deserved to die, not Marianne, I thought.
“
Give it to me,” I growled and lunged toward her.
Flo slammed the bathroom door. The force of the slam hit my forehead and knocked me back. I heard the vase crash on the tile floor. I stood still as if a bullet had seared through my heart. I stood motionless in the hallway when Flo came out of the bathroom. She rushed past me and into her bedroom.
I turned my head slightly and glared at her through the narrowed slits of my eyes. The words that came from my lips were as cold as the touch of death I’d felt that day.
“
I’ll hate you for the rest of my life for doing that.”
Flo swung the door shut and said, “Go right ahead.”
I sat down heavily at the dining room table and nestled my head in my arms, wanting to escape the nightmarish day. I raised my head slightly when Flo clambered through the dining room still wearing her housecoat and dragging a suitcase behind her.
“
I’m going to Sophia’s,” she announced.
I didn’t make a move to go after her. “Good. I hope you stay there,” I mumbled to the table.
The front door slammed shut. I went into the bathroom and knelt on the cold tile floor. I picked up the blue and red pieces of pottery, caressing them like a broken heart until my hands bled. I sat on the floor and watched the shadows form around me. I saw the claw foot tub, Miss Lamp, and little Dottie’s body floating in the water through my tears. I closed my eyes, and Marianne’s face appeared, bloodied beyond recognition. I was a broken man like the shards of pottery in my hands.
Chapter XII
1959 – 1974
Jeannie
I picked up the ringing telephone and leaned on the shelf in the hallway for support. Sleeping on the cold tile floor in the bathroom left a dull ache throughout my back and shoulders. I had aged twenty years in twenty-four hours.
“
Hullo?”
“
Mickey,” Sophia’s anxious voice called through the line.
“
Yeah?” My voice barked louder than I intended.
Sophia’s voice softened when she said, “Mickey, Marianne’s been in an accident.”
Marianne’s death and Sophia’s betrayal of me were fresh on my mind.
“
Uh, yeah,” I answered dully.
“
Oh, so you know?”
“
Yeah, I know.”
Sophia breathed a long sigh. “Well, I’m leaving for Riverside today. Do you want to ride together?”
“
No.”
I focused my eyes, squeezing them shut and then open, looking at the dried blood on my hand. I heard another sigh and a flustered Sophia say, “So, you’d rather go alone?”
“
No.”
“
Mickey, I have a long day ahead of me, and you’re not making any sense. Are you going to Riverside or not?”
“
No.” I pressed my finger on the lever that cut the line.
The cuts on my hands stung when I placed the telephone receiver back on the cradle. I showered away the dried blood and dull ache in my back, but my head still throbbed. I hoped that Flo had left some whiskey in the house. The smell of grease and dirty dishes turned my stomach inside out when I opened the kitchen door. I let it swing shut. A full bottle of hooch glistened through the beveled glass of the dining room hutch. I poured the golden liquid into a crystal glass.
The little black book next to the telephone gave me Mrs. Jenkins’ number. “Hello, Mick MacDonald here. My wife is visiting my sister for a while. I could really use some help, if you don’t mind.”
Mrs. Jenkins’ voice came through the line, bright and cheery. “I sure can, Mr. MacDonald. Shall I bring you anything?”
“
Could you bring something to cook for breakfast?”
“
You bet. I’ll be right over.”
I staggered to the living room sofa to wait for her. The sound of the doorbell jerked me awake. I stood aside to let her in. Mrs. Jenkins hurried through the door with brown paper bags loaded in her arms. She leaned her back on the swinging kitchen door.
“
Law, that wife of yours sure can make a mess. Don’t you worry; I’ll have this kitchen cleaned up in no time.”
“
Mrs. Jenkins,” I called out. “Do you think you could help me with something else first?”
She poked her neatly coiffed gray head around the kitchen door. I sat at the dining room table, looking helplessly at my hands.
Mrs. Jenkins glanced at the cuts on my open hands. “Oh my, do you have any dressings?”
“
Uh, there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet.”
Mrs. Jenkins’ hands moved swiftly as she wound the gauze around my hand. Her strong, confident manner comforted me the way Mother’s presence did when she was alive.
“
Looks like you’ve done this before,” I said.
Mrs. Jenkins’ lips curved. “I was thirty years old when I joined the Army Nurse Corps. At that time, I thought I’d be an old maid. Instead, I wound up a war widow. My husband died in an accident on the way to the base after the war. After that, I never went back to nursing.”
She tied the bandage in a neat knot. “I’ve seen a lot of battle scars in my time. You’ll be fine in a couple of days. Did you and the missus have a spat?”
I lifted the glass with my bandaged hand while she worked on the other hand.
“
Something like that,” I said bitterly, taking a swig of the whiskey.
Mrs. Jenkins gathered up the bandages and put them away in the bathroom. “Well, that juice you’re drinking isn’t going to help. I’ll clean up this broken vase so you don’t cut yourself again.”
I waved my white paw at her. “No. Don’t do that. I’ll sweep it into a dustpan. I’d like to keep it.”
Mrs. Jenkins picked up two pieces of the broken pottery and held them together. “I can’t say that I blame you. It was a beautiful piece. I noticed it while I was cleaning your room. I could look at it and tell that it was made with love.”
I took another gulp from the glass. I looked away so that she couldn’t see the pain on my face. “My cousin made it for me. She died yesterday. It was an accident like your husband’s death.”
Mrs. Jenkins walked over and touched my shoulder. My body began to tremble. I clinched my teeth and set my jaw firmly to keep my emotions intact.
“
I’m so sorry,” she said. “Life seems so unfair when our loved ones are taken from us unexpectedly. Time will heal. Have you ever heard that?”
I nodded. “Yes. She said that to me when my little girl died.”
Mrs. Jenkins patted my shoulder and said, “We never forget them, but each day the hurting gets a little easier. That’s a fact. Now, you let go of that drink, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“
Can you make some grits?” I asked feebly.
Mrs. Jenkins quickly tied the strings of a red and white checkered apron behind her back. Her country breakfast made me feel steady again. Having her around made the house feel like a home. Flo didn’t have it in her to do that. I thought about how nice it would be to come home to a clean house, good food, and a nice lady like Mrs. Jenkins.
I looked out the kitchen window. A Red-headed Woodpecker tapping on the neighbor’s tree caught my eye. I gulped the chicory coffee she’d made and asked, “Mrs. Jenkins, do you like birds?”
She spun around. “I love birds. How did you know?”
I shrugged. “Just a hunch. I like birds, too. Mrs. Jenkins, how would you like to have a full time job?”
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to me at the kitchen table. “Well, I do need a job, but I’m wondering what your missus will have to say about that.”
“
Don’t mind her. You will work for me. I’d like for you to keep the house looking nice and cook for me when I’m home on the weekends. You could come in a few hours every day during the week, as you see fit. I’d like for you to give me a weekly report on what goes on around here. Do you think you can do that?”
Mrs. Jenkins blew into the hot coffee and said, “I’d love to work for you, but I don’t know about her.”
I placed my bandaged hand on her shoulder. “I promise that I’ll make it worth your while.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
Mrs. Jenkins craned her neck to look out the window and smiled. “Maybe we could put a birdfeeder in front of that little tree in the backyard. Maybe you could call me Jeannie.”
I took a two-week leave from work and asked for a transfer to any freight line leaving Atlanta. During that time, Jeannie settled into her new job. She sat with me in the kitchen every morning while I ate breakfast. My hands healed quickly and my state of mind improved under Jeannie’s care. She took great pride in wearing the new gray and white uniforms I provided. She handled the shopping, the laundry, and the cooking. I almost smiled when she shared her first telephone conversation with Sophia.
“
MacDonald residence,” she said firmly.
“
Who is this?” Sophia demanded.
“
I’m Mr. MacDonald’s housekeeper. How can I help you?”
Sophia stuttered. “I need to speak to Mickey, uh, Mr. MacDonald. Is he there?”
Jeannie poised a pen in hand. “He’s not available now. May I take a message?”
Jeannie said that Sophia’s voice rose to a high soprano tone. “You can tell him that I’m coming over – today.”
Later that day, Sophia was banging on the door. Jeannie opened the door and pointed to the doorbell. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We have a bell.”
Sophia stiffened. “I know that. I used to live here. Where’s Mickey?”
“
He’s in the backyard putting up a birdfeeder.”
Sophia nodded. “Thank you, Miss..?
“
Jeannie.”
Sophia fiddled with her new purse. “Thank you, Jeannie.”
I was sitting on a stool, hammering the birdfeeder to a pole, when Sophia loped across my backyard.
“
Hello, Mickey.”
“
Sophia.” I nodded but continued to work on the birdfeeder. My sister had changed over the years. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the kindness I loved about her when we were young. She had become haughty and bitter. Her manner and fondness for wearing the latest fashion reminded me of Flo.
“
Mickey, you’ve got to take Flo back. She’s been with me a little over a week now. I can’t afford to support her. And well, I’m tired of cleaning up after her. You have to take her back.”
I put the birdfeeder on the ground next to the stool and looked at her. “Sophia, I’m not keeping her away. She left on her own. She can come back on her own.”
Sophia shuffled her high heels on the grass. “Well, she’s still pretty upset about you carrying on with Marianne.”
I stood up and looked down at my older sister with clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever mention her name! You betrayed her and me. She didn’t deserve that. Don’t you ever speak of her in my presence again.”
Sophia became very fidgety. “Well, Flo said that she’ll come back, forgive and forget, if you’ll buy a television.”
“
A television?”
I’d never thought about having a television. I had seen them in the shop windows downtown but never saw the use in having one. Sophia walked off saying, “She said to call her when it arrives.”
***
I solved a lot of my problems during that two week leave. Jeannie provided a nice home for me and someone to talk to. Buying the television for Flo gave her something to do for the next twenty years. Jeannie reported that Flo slept late when she didn’t have an appointment at the beauty parlor. She watched soap operas from noon until four o’clock every day. After that, she watched game shows. Jeannie and I rigged up a small window fan in the living room that ran, even in the wintertime, to let Flo’s cigarette smoke drift out of the house.