Lady Blues

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I chuckled. “Sorry. It’s my fault. I haven’t been as attentive as usual. Lots going on.”

  She nodded as if dismissing me, hung the dishcloth on the rail of the stove, and stared at some of the burn marks on the wall. “By golly, what happened here?”

  I explained about the fire, trying not to be too hard on Sig and his infatuation with the cartoon that led to him not noticing how long the meatloaf had been cooking in the oven.

  “I see.” She peered into the refrigerator. “Oh my.”

  I shrugged. “I planned to shop tonight. Not much in there, huh?”

  She whistled. “We’re going to have to be very creative tonight, Gus.”

  “I thought maybe we’d order in. Again.”

  “Have you been doing that a lot?” Her lips drew into a disapproving pout.

  “Er. Yeah.” I traced circles on the table with my forefinger; embarrassed she’d witnessed such disarray in our normally healthy home.

  “Gus. I’m surprised at you. What have you been doing with yourself?”

  I hesitated to tell her I’d been hopping between Lily and Kip, trying to help them straighten out their lives.

  She brushed her hands together. “Well, it’s good to know you need me, anyway.”

  “You bet we do.” I pulled out a chair and dropped into it, suddenly feeling tired from my day. “How’s Eloise?”

  She opened the cupboard to the left of the fridge. “Oh, much better. Her blood pressure is under control, and she’s eating a lot healthier.” She picked up a package of Oreos and frowned. “Which is more than I can say for you!”

  I laid my head on the table, as if in defeat. “Give a guy a break. I had a moment of weakness.”

  “I’ll say.” She stuffed the cookies way in the back of the cabinet. “By the way, who’s been sleeping in my bed?”

  I sat up and looked at her in surprise. “Oh. Didn’t we tell you?”

  “You mentioned the girl whose brother died. Lisa, right?”

  “Close. Lily. She’s been camping in your room. Her home was destroyed by fire. And Siegfried and she have become…ah…involved.”

  She raised one eyebrow, stopped her cupboard search, and hurried to the table. Pulling out a chair, she sat and faced me with an excited expression. “Tell me everything.”

  I looked at the clock. Three-thirty. Almost time to start dinner. “Well, to make a long story short, Sig’s had his eye on her for a long time. Before the fire, he’d been finding excuses to see her. You know, bringing over shirts with loose buttons, pants that needed hemming or repairs. At least one project per week. Sometimes once a day.”

  “I wondered why he kept going there.” Her eyes sparkled. “So he had a crush on her?”

  “Yeah. Then, after the fire, she had nowhere to go. We invited her here.”

  “So she’s living here?”

  “For now. Sig hasn’t been back to work, ‘cause he was helping Lily with her English and everything. Then her brother Thom died. It was so sudden; she really fell apart. We had to make the funeral arrangements for her.”

  “It must have been hard. You poor thing.” She reached over to pat the back of my hand.

  “It was harder on Lily, that’s for sure.” A thought struck me. “Wait a minute. I didn’t tell you about Freddie and Adam, did I?”

  She flashed a secret smile. “I already knew.”

  Not surprised, I chuckled. “Naturally. Okay, well, anyway, Siegfried’s been talking about building a log home out there on the hill, near the woods.”

  I stood and pointed to Siegfried’s chosen knoll. She joined me at the kitchen window and nodded. “That would be lovely.”

  “We can have Lily move to the sofa, if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. The poor girl would develop back problems on that old thing.”

  I looked at her for an answer.

  She stood again and busied herself polishing the stovetop. “We can share the bedroom. Why don’t you bring that cot down from the attic? It’s nice and comfy. Remember I slept on it when Elsbeth—” Her voice trailed off.

  “Great idea,” I said. “I’ll set it up tonight.”

  “Put it in the corner by the window. And bring down that screen we used to have. It’s the black lacquer Japanese one with the white swans on it.”

  “I know just where it is. I’ll set up your little corner and you two can figure out who sleeps where. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Sig just up and marries the woman and she moves into his carriage house soon.”

  Her eyes went dreamy and unfocused as she stood at the sink, still holding the sponge in her hand. “By golly, I can hardly believe it. Our Siegfried, finally finding a woman to love.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s about time.”

  I got up and opened the top door of the fridge. Cold air steamed out as I stared inside. “How about stir fry? We’ve got chicken. I could pick some asparagus and onion greens. And I have carrots in the cellar.”

  “That’ll work.” She took four cans from the cupboard. “And we could use some of these little corn cobs and water chestnuts. How about rice to go with it?”

  “Hmm. Maybe orzo? We haven’t had that in a while.”

  “Okay. You start chopping, and I’ll defrost the chicken.”

  We got to work and settled into a companionable silence

  Chapter Twenty-six

  After a full day of classes, I stopped at Crumble’s Music Shop to ask about music recorded by Arabella Mae Dubois.

  The owner, a jovial throwback to the sixties, waited on me with enthusiasm. “Arabella Dubois?” Crumble swung his long gray hair back over his shoulder and scratched his beard while he looked at the ceiling for the answer. “Blues, right?”

  “And jazz, from what I’ve been told.” I leaned on the crowded counter.

  “I think she recorded with Glenn Miller,” he said.

  “Right. She sang with his band in the forties.”

  His love beads jingled as he padded barefoot to the back of the store. “Come on. Back here in the jazz and blues section.”

  He buried his head in hundreds of CDs, and finally plucked out a few recordings with a flourish.

  I tried to ignore the sickly sweet scent of marijuana rising from his clothing.

  “Here we go. Three separate recordings. You want ‘em all?”

  I scanned the back of each. “Yes. Give me two copies of everything you have, and if you can find more, order two of each. This woman is alive and well, and lives right in our own backyard. I just met her son, and…her lover.”

  He shot me a puzzled look. “She must be like a thousand years old.” He scratched deeply in his beard. “Lover?”

  “She’s in her late eighties, I believe. And this guy was her sweetheart back in the war. They were separated for years and were just reunited.”

  He mumbled. “Cool. Love rules, brother.”

  “Er, yeah. Do you have a portable CD player? Something not too expensive?”

  He motioned for me to follow him. “Up here. Come on.”

  I trailed after him, feeling a tad indiscreet blabbing about Kip and Bella. Then again, I figured Crumble probably wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, anyway.

  ***

  Although I didn’t have much free time left in the day, I stopped at the nursing home for a brief visit with Kip. The icicle at the front desk waved me on, not bothering to look up from her fashion magazine. I entered his room to find Debbie standing patiently by his bedside.

  “Here. Let me tuck you in, Kip.”

  He lay in his pajamas in bed in the muted light of drawn shades.

  “Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

  Kip looked at me with drooping eyelids and a pale complexion.

  “Is he sick?” I said.

  She nodded, biting her lip. “I’m worried he’s having a reaction to the medication. The new Memorphyl. But several of the patients have had flu-like symptoms today, so it could be viral.”

  “You oka
y, Kip?” I asked, walking to the other side of the bed and touching his hand. It felt cold. I tucked it beneath the spread.

  “I’m tired. Just want to sleep,” he mumbled.

  Darts of worry pricked my stomach. I glanced down to the cup of yellow pills sitting on the tray beside the bed. “Okay. Well, you rest, now. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

  Debbie’s brow furrowed as she took his pulse and slid a thermometer under his tongue. “Call first, Gus. This might take a few days to run its course.”

  “I will. I’ll give you a ring in the morning to see how he’s doing. And be sure to call Curtis.”

  She nodded as she removed the cover from the thermometer and frowned. “Already did. He’s coming up at six.”

  “Good. And Kip, you rest now, you hear?”

  Kip had already fallen asleep. I exchanged a somber look with Debbie and backed out of the room.

  ***

  I arrived home at four-thirty to find two women crying in my kitchen.

  Mrs. Pierce sat at the table, dabbing at her eyes. Lily stood in the corner of the room, gripping a mop. Black hair hung over her eyes, but as soon as I walked in the door, her face crumpled and she turned her back, shoulders shaking.

  “Oh, thank God you’re home, Gus,” Mrs. Pierce said with a hitch in her words.

  “What in the world happened here?” I asked.

  A container of floor cleaner lay spilled in front of the sink. A green puddle crept toward the refrigerator.

  Mrs. Pierce shot Lily a hurt look, and turned to me. “She’s trying to take over my job.”

  “What?” I took the mop from Lily’s hands, ushering her to the table. “Have a seat, Lily. Here. Just relax.” I started to mop up the green puddle.

  She looked at me with panic. “I do!” Gesturing to the mop and floor, she grabbed my hand and squeezed, looking intently into my eyes. “I do clean. I live house, I work.”

  “Yes, yes. You do.” I tried to calm her and gave Mrs. Pierce a hold-on-just-a-second look.

  “You live here, Lily. Everything’s okay.” I stretched out the words slowly, hoping she would understand after her six English lessons. “But Mrs. Pierce works here, too.” I pointed to our mother hen, whose life was keeping house and tending children. “She works, too. You must share the jobs. You clean. She cleans.” I pointed back and forth between them, hoping I’d simplified the language enough to make it understandable.

  Lily sat up in the chair, wanting to understand. Her eyes darted to Mrs. Pierce, who sniffled.

  “If you don’t need me anymore, Gus, you just have to say so.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Adelaide. Please.”

  She broke down and began to sob. “First she takes my bedroom, then she tries to steal my job.”

  I sighed again, and draped my arms around her shaking shoulders. “No! Nobody’s taking anyone’s job. Lily needs to feel as if she’s earning her keep, so we told her she could clean to pay for her room and board.”

  “Oh?” She tried to stop her hiccupping tears.

  “Yes. She’ll probably end up living with Siegfried soon, and after that, in his new house. Meanwhile, couldn’t you two just share the work? There really is plenty to do around here.”

  She tossed an apologetic look toward Lily. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”

  “Put that thought right out of your head. You’re job here is permanent. You’re family, Adelaide. Okay?”

  I’d never seen Mrs. Pierce in such a state. Normally a very generous and happy person, this change in demeanor was unsettling. I figured the stress of worrying about her sister over the past few weeks might have weakened her.

  She smoothed the gray bun at the nape of her neck, tucking a loose strand back into the bundle. Collecting herself, she stood and picked up the mop, holding it out to Lily. “Here. You clean. I’ll cook. And maybe we can make a list of jobs to split. Gus is right. There’s plenty to do around here. We can work it out.” With a teary smile, she held out her arms.

  “Go on. It’s okay,” I said.

  Lily rose slowly, eyes downcast. Mrs. Pierce gave her a gentle hug, and Lily’s arms came up to return the embrace. They snuffled and mumbled a little, parting with watery smiles.

  “Okay, then. It’s all settled. So, what’s for dinner, Mrs. Pierce?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Camille snuggled next to me, propping her book on a pillow.

  “How’s the book?” I asked.

  She held up a copy of My Soul to Save by S.W. Vaughn, and smiled. “Delicious. What a great story. I can’t put it down.”

  “Really? What’s it about?”

  She sighed and inserted a bookmark. “Logan’s so cool. She’s a rock singer who’s trying to go clean from drugs. She doesn’t realize how amazing her singing voice is, but she gets an offer to sing lead in a band, and that’s when it all starts. Problem is, she hallucinates these creatures who melt into walls.” She shuddered. “They aren’t nice. But then comes along this gorgeous demon—”

  I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Gorgeous demon?”

  “It’s complicated.” She chuckled. “But Jaeryth is every woman’s dream.”

  “Oh? I thought I was every woman’s dream.”

  She whacked me with her book. “You’re my dreamboat, honey. Nobody else can dream about you.” She pecked my cheek and opened the book again. “Jaeryth is ruggedly handsome. Tortured. Misunderstood. Resourceful. And he loves her.”

  A twinge of irrational jealously hit me. “I see. Well, I won’t tell you about the heroine in my book, then. You might get too jealous.”

  It didn’t work. She continued reading, her nose buried in My Soul to Save. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to call Curtis. I’m worried about Kip.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I grabbed my cell phone from its charger in the bathroom and settled into the blue wing chair by the window.

  When Curtis picked up, he sounded out of breath. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Gus. Sorry to call so late, but I’m worried about your father.”

  In the background, a door slammed shut and a lock clicked. “Hi, Gus. Hold on a second, I just got in.”

  I waited while a series of thunks and clacks sounded in the background. A toilet flushed. Springs on a couch squeaked. “Okay. I’m settled. Sorry about that.”

  “Not a problem. So, how is he?”

  “His fever’s up. One-oh-three. Just like half the patients in the place.”

  “Damn. I was afraid of that.”

  “They’re saying it’s the flu. But it’s April, almost May, for God’s sake. Who gets the flu this time of year?”

  I turned toward the window, watching the moths flutter against the screen. “I know. It’s crazy. I’m wondering what the hell they did to the Memorphyl.”

  He grunted and I thought I heard the sound of his shoes plopping onto the floor. “Me, too. It’s too coincidental. I was talking with Debbie tonight. She’s convinced it’s a reaction to whatever they changed in the drug.”

  “She’s sharp. Very sharp. I’d go with her impression any day.”

  He sighed long and low. “There’s something else, Gus. Something bad.”

  My heart sank. I waited for him to continue. Finally, he took a deep breath and blurted it out. “My father didn’t know who I was tonight.”

  Dread hit me. Not this. Not his memory. Not now. “Do you think it could be the fever?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how he is tomorrow. But Debbie said they’re all forgetting.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yeah. She was practically frantic with worry. I caught her arguing with that Novacom idiot. He came to ‘investigate’ the symptoms with one of his staff doctors. They asked my dad questions, but didn’t say much. She seemed furious.”

  “Damn.”

  With Arabella arriving in days, the long awaited reunion wouldn’t take place. Instead, she’d meet with the same slightly
deranged man I’d seen on my first day at Bello Mondo.

  “I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow, okay?” Curtis said. He sounded tired. Defeated.

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll stop in anyway, just to check on him.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Gus. Try to have a good night.”

  “You too. Sleep well.” Before I rose to replace the phone and climb back in bed, it rang again. I half expected it to be Curtis. “Hello?”

  “Professor LeGarde? Andrea Kwon.” After a few minutes of small talk, she got to her point. “I’ve been meaning to visit Lily. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

  I’d forgotten all about it. She still hadn’t shared the information Thom divulged on his deathbed. “When would you like to come? I’m sure Lily would love to see you again. She’s been doing well with her English, but she must be eager to have a conversation with someone in her own tongue.”

  She laughed. “I can imagine. Well, how about tomorrow, after dinner?”

  Friday night. That would work. “Sure. But why don’t you join us for the meal? We’d love to have you. Our housekeeper’s a wonderful cook.”

  We agreed on six o’clock. I pushed aside my curiosity about the secrets Thom had shared, and rejoined my wife in bed. Realizing I wasn’t going to be blessed with any physical adventures tonight, I turned off my light. She barely mumbled “Good night, honey,” as her eyes raced across the page.

  “Sweet dreams,” I said.

  Her response was delayed, but she laughed. “Okay, dreamboat.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  On Friday morning, I kept my nine o’clock appointment with Doc Mattson. I’d set it up months ago to review the status of my cholesterol. For almost a year, I’d been devouring Milka chocolate bars Camille and I had shipped from Europe when we were there for our honeymoon. We’d bought enough for an army, and I considered it my personal challenge to devour one every night.

  Of course, it wasn’t much of a challenge. They went down smooth and creamy, better than any domestic chocolate I’d tasted. I was seriously addicted. However, my cholesterol shot through the roof, and since Doc yelled at me, I’d been forced to stop the nightly habit. The withdrawal was tough, but I did it. And I lost four pounds in the process.