I became infuriated with him and did not care if he fired me on the spot.
“That is about the most disgusting thing I have ever heard from your mouth and if you want me to continue to have the smallest shred of respect for you, you had better take it back and say you are sorry. And, this is not a joke, Brad.”
He realized that he had crossed the line and now his face turned red. I thought it was admirable that he had the decency to blush but I was not backing down.
“Linda, I . . . come on! Don’t be mad at me! I was just shooting the shit with you. Come on!”
“No. You meant what you said! You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Um, well, isn’t it true?”
“Would you like me to come around this desk and pop you one?”
“Simmer down, Jersey! Jeesch! No sense of humor!”
“Listen, Brad Jackson. In the first place, it is an affront for men of my generation to go out with little girls. Where does that leave us? Bait for geezers? We are the ones you choose to give you children and then we are discarded only to be replaced with a younger version so that you can all tell yourselves that you’re still young too. Well, guess what? There’s something terribly wrong with those girls who date men your age! They’re looking for a meal ticket, a daddy, or an excuse to never have to do anything with their lives except trade on their youth. And as a woman, I find it appalling. I do. It’s not unlike prostitution. Really. Sorry I went off like that. No, I’m not.”
“Guess I touched a nerve. I apologize. Seriously.”
“Get the hell out of here and leave me alone.”
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“Very funny.”
When he left the office, or I should say slithered out, I closed my door. What in the world was the matter with me? Why did I lose my temper like that? Five minutes later, there was a slight knock, knock, knock. I ignored it and the door opened slowly. A bottle of olives on a tray came in followed by Brad’s arm.
“I couldn’t find an olive branch, so I’m making do.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “Go away. Some of us have work to do.”
Two minutes later, there was a knock, knock, knock. I ignored it again and the door opened slowly. In came the same tray, held by Brad. This time it held a fat slice of Mimi’s pound cake with lemon sauce.
“Have you tried this cake? It’s incredible!”
“Yes, my sister made it and no, thank you.”
“Oh,” he said and closed the door again.
About five minutes later, the door opened and he held inside a piece of cardboard on which he had drawn—poorly, I might add—a picture of a basset hound with a bubble above his head. In the bubble, with letters printed backward like the dog wrote it himself, was the sentiment Bogart says, Brad is a dog and he knows it. He put himself in doghouse.
I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.
“Can Bogart’s best friend come in? He wants to thank you for not suing him for some violation of behavior in the workplace.”
“Oh, come on in,” I said.
He came in with a tray and on it were two cups of gumbo and two wedges of corn bread. He had brought salt and pepper shakers and even one of the bud vases we had for the tables. It held three blooms of yellow daisies.
“Peace offering,” he said.
“Thanks. Just remember, I can always be bribed with food.” I could smell the gumbo from where he stood. “Wow, that smells so good. Louise make it?”
I cleared away the folders in the middle of the desk so he could put the tray down.
“Yeah, Duane’s gumbo can’t touch Louise’s.”
We got organized for a desktop lunch and began to eat.
“I’m really sorry about what I said before,” he said, and his cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and looked at the caller ID.
“Who’s calling?”
“Who do you think?” He shook his head and put his phone back on his belt. “Fifth time today.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to speak to her.”
“I know. I just hate confrontation. I figured if I just ignored her, she would give up.”
“Normal people would,” I said, and stared at him until he noticed that I was dead serious. “Hey! Did you hear that I got an offer on my house in Montclair?”
“Fabulous! Good one? Gonna take it?”
“Yeah, it’s very good and I’m grabbing it! But I have to go back and empty the house.”
“When are you going?”
“This Friday. I worked it out with Louise. I’m flying up very late Friday and coming back Monday.”
“Well, good! Then I take it that, besides the fact that your immediate boss is a horse’s patootie, you plan to be with us for a while?”
“Yep, you’re stuck with me,” I said and relaxed.
We were talking about the kids when O’Malley’s head appeared in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Brad, there’s a lady out here to see you.”
Before Brad could respond, Amy pushed her way by O’Malley and into the office. She was in a very agitated state.
“Why aren’t you taking my calls?” she said, and she saw we were having something to eat. “Well, isn’t this just precious?”
Brad stood up and reached out to take her arm but before he could take her outside, she turned to me.
“Well, now I know why Brad’s not calling me back!” Then she faced Brad and said, “You know, I was calling you to tell you that I had a job offer.”
I inhaled sharply—gasped, actually.
“Well, that’s great,” he said. “Here or in Atlanta?”
“Would you rather it be in Atlanta?”
Now I really gasped. You could tell by the timbre of her voice that her anger was expanding by exponents of ten. O’Malley and I exchanged looks. I had no escape and I thought he stayed there to make sure she didn’t lose it.
“No . . . I just thought . . . ,” Brad said.
“Oh! So that’s it! You thought I was leaving Charleston, right? Well, let me tell you something . . .”
That was when I should have remained quiet, but foolishly did not. All I said was, “Hey, Amy, we’ve got customers out there having lunch, so why don’t you bring it down—”
Before I could finish my sentence, she picked up Brad’s gumbo and hurled it at my head, hitting me full force across the bridge of my nose. The cup broke, soup went everywhere and blood began gushing from my head and nose.
“Oh! God!” I said quietly. I could barely see with all the blood and soup. I grabbed the napkin from my lap and held it to my head. “I’m hurt!”
“Oh my God,” O’Malley said.
“Get Louise!” Brad said and pushed Amy down in his chair. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
O’Malley took off.
Amy struggled to stand and get out, but Brad held her by the arm.
“Let her go!” I said. “Just let her go!”
He released her and she flew out the door at about the same moment Louise flew in.
“Great God in heaven! What has that crazy woman done to you?”
Louise came around behind the desk and gently took away the napkin. My whole body was shaking from head to toe from the shock of what had happened and I felt faint.
“Go get me some clean towels and some warm water, and a bowl of ice and call an ambulance,” she said to Brad and O’Malley.
“Jesus my King! You’re gonna be fine, Linda, but you definitely need stitches. I’ll go with you to the hospital.”
I started to cry, which only made things worse. “Call Mimi, okay?” I could no longer breathe through my nose and I knew it was broken. “Damnit!”
“You can say that again,” Louise said. “Listen, sugar, I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ll call your sister and tell her to meet us there, okay? God! That woman is so evil.”
Two hours, fourteen stitches and a reset nose later, courtesy of the tal
ented hands of a plastic surgeon, I was home in bed, furious. Mimi, Brad and Louise were in my kitchen ranting and raving under their breath. They had given me pain medication at the hospital and it was supposed to make me sleep, but it wasn’t working. I had an ice-cold wet cloth over my eyes held in place by two small bags of frozen peas. Mimi said it would keep my eyes from turning black and blue and keep the swelling down. I hoped it was working. I couldn’t put pressure on my nose as I had two plastic stints in there holding my nose together. My upper lip was swollen and I resigned myself to drinking from a straw and having bad breath for three days until I could have the stints removed. At least it was a clean break and predicted to heal well, and that was the only break I had caught that day.
Mimi peeked in.
“You sleeping?”
“Hell no! I’m too angry to sleep! As soon as I can get up, I’m gonna find Amy and kill her!”
“You’ll have to get in line. You want some tea?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Mimi returned a few minutes later with a glass of iced tea and a straw.
“How are you feeling?”
I took a long drink and was surprised by my thirst, but breathing through my mouth had dried my throat.
“Actually, it’s just the fact that I can’t breathe normally and I’m groggy from all the medicine and my head hurts like all hell, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Good Lord. Well, I suppose we should say prayers of thanks that the crazy lunatic didn’t knock out your teeth.”
Before I could tell her what an idiotic thing I thought that was to say, Brad and Louise appeared in the doorway. By the expressions on their faces, I knew I looked horrible.
“Don’t worry about Gracie,” Louise said, “Lupe said she would pick her up after the game and bring her home with Alex. And we’ll see about her supper.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Listen, Linda. I spoke to Robert,” Brad said. “If you want to press charges, and I think you should, we can. This whole thing is so incredible. And, I am so sorry.”
“No, I think I’ll just sleep now. We can talk about it later.”
“Okay. Well, then, I guess we should be getting back to the restaurant now. If y’all need anything at all, I expect y’all to call us. Okay? We’ll check in with you later. Oh, Linda, by the way, I spoke to Lowell. The garage is yours.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Mimi said.
I nodded my head and inched down under my covers, moving carefully. Mimi got the message.
“I’ll just see them out and then I’m gonna sit in the living room and read. Just holler if you need anything, okay?”
I began to drift off to sleep but as soon as a dream would begin to materialize, I would wake up again. My head hurt so much I knew this had to be the worst point of my injuries—recovering from a gash in my head and a broken nose and then the surgery it required to put me back in one piece. Everyone had been so nice to me. Everyone felt terrible that this had happened. It was so ironic that through all the years I had lived surrounded by terrorists, muggers, rapists, drug dealers and every kind of vermin that occupy the lowest rungs of society, nothing had ever happened to me. I had never even had my pocket picked in Times Square. It was incredible that something so violent could have happened here. I was completely and thoroughly stunned. Not only that, how in the world would I go to Montclair in four days? In a mask?
I thought I smelled pipe tobacco burning. Not a powerful odor, but something distant and sweet. I thought well, maybe it’s just in the wood. Houses built of wood absorbed odors. When you least expected it, you would catch a trace of something in the air, even if it had been from years ago. I began to think about the old man in my dreams and wondered if his somber expressions in my last dream of him had been related to Amy’s violent assault.
For some crazy reason, and it was most likely linked to the painkillers in my bloodstream, I could almost feel the old man in my room, sitting in a chair next to my bed, watching over me. Yes, there was a distinct presence nearby.
Through the haze of drugs and ice packs it came to me that I had truly brought the entire episode with Amy on myself. If I had not been so obnoxious to her, she never could have singled me out as an enemy. Why did I do these things? I consoled myself that it was the human condition to cause your own trouble, but that was a very small consolation to my throbbing head. My nose would have been fine if I had simply minded my own business. I took an oath with no witnesses that from that moment forward, I would never be a busybody again. Maybe I had saved Brad from something worse later on. Maybe I had cut a cosmic deal with Brad somewhere out there in the ethers.
I was thinking crazy thoughts. It was time to rest and let my body heal.
TWENTY
GRACIE WANTS TO TALK
WHEN you have a big trauma in your family, you want to be sure you can dig up an aunt like my Aunt Mimi. I got home from the ball game around five and at first, when I saw Aunt Mimi’s car, I didn’t think a thing about it. But when I came up the steps in my usual regal manner—that is, two at a time, swung open the door, slammed it and announced my presence in a song at the top of my lungs—Aunt Mimi leapt from the couch to the door and gave me a huge shhhh! Your momma’s asleep. Well, old Linda ain’t been asleep at five in the afternoon in my whole life, so I knew something big was cooking.
“Hey!” I said. “Why’s Mom in the sack?”
She then proceeded to tell me the story, which let me tell you, scarred me for life. There is nothing worse in the entire world than something happening to your mother. I mean, if you look back at every childhood story from Hansel and Gretel to Sleeping Beauty to Snow White—name one, it doesn’t matter—the mother is dead. That’s why kids are completely freaked out when their mother goes to bed off schedule. By the time she was finished giving me the details, I was shaking all over from head to toe.
“Is she okay?”
“Of course she’s okay! Listen, come sit. It’s one of those things where you look worse on the outside than you are on the inside. Anyway, I’m sure she’s gonna wake up soon and when she does, she’s not going to be very happy. Her head took quite a hit.”
“Did you call Lindsey?”
“No, I didn’t. Why don’t you take my cell outside and call her yourself?”
“First, I’m just gonna look in her room and see if she’s awake.”
I opened Mom’s door slowly and when I saw her, I thought I was going to faint. My knees got weak and my hands became clammy. Poor Momma! She had ice packs over her eyes and cheeks, a bandage on her forehead and she was breathing through her mouth. And what in the hell were the plastic things in her nose?
“Mimi?” she said.
Well, at least she sounded normal.
“No, Momma, it’s me. Gracie.”
“Some mess, huh?”
“Man! That woman ought to be put away! Seriously!” I tiptoed to her side and took her hand. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not too much. It’s sort of like somebody hits you across the face with a baseball bat, that’s all.” She sat up a little. “Here, help me, honey. I want to powder my nose. I took all these pills and I’m still a little wobbly.”
I leaned over and helped her untangle her feet from the covers and brought her up to a sitting position.
“Well, first of all, Mom, you should not be wearing a long nightgown. You’ll trip and bust your behind! Don’t you have enough trouble as it is?”
“Do I look really terrible?”
Was she kidding? “Uh, no, you look fabulous! We should take a picture right now and put it up on match.com.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. A real beauty queen, right?”
“Hey, you got a broken nose and a ton of stitches, what do you expect?” I led her into the bathroom. “Um, do you want me to help you . . . ?”
“No, thanks, honey. I can handle it now. Tell Mimi that I’m up, okay?”
I went back into the
kitchen, where Mimi was digging around in our cabinets, presumably to concoct some creation that would cure the world and feed us at the same time.
“Mom’s awake,” I said, “she’s in the bathroom.”
“Oh! How’s she doing?”
“Like crap, but who wouldn’t be?”
“I just want her to keep her eyes iced so they don’t turn black, but they probably will anyway. Do you want to split a Coke?”
“Sure, do we have diet?”
“Yep!” She popped the top and divided it between two glasses filled with ice. “So, that was some story, right?”
“Like no other. I mean, you can’t make stuff like that up! Is Mom gonna press charges?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she’s had time to think about it yet. Can I tell you how bad Brad and O’Malley feel? They were standing right there when it happened. Brad said he thought she was just going to take a look at what he was eating.”
“Yeah, right.” I imitated the attempted murderer’s voice. “This needs salt!”
“Exactly. And, O’Malley said he was standing there because he thought something might happen and then, when it did, he didn’t do a blessed thing to stop it!”
“Another tale of failed macho hoo-rah,” I said.
“Well, that’s not entirely fair. I think the whole incident happened so fast that there wasn’t time to react. Anyway, your momma is supposed to go up to Yankee territory this weekend and empty the house, but I think she should wait until next weekend. Do you know where her ticket is? I’ll call Louise for her, see if it’s okay to change her time off and then I can change her reservation for her.”
It was just like Aunt Mimi to think of the next step. It was just like me to be clueless about the next step. I guess I wasn’t quite the adult I liked to think I almost was, but I figured the mere fact that I recognized my limits was progress.
Mom gave Mimi her flight information and Mimi got busy coaxing the reservation agent into changing Mom’s ticket and waiving the change fee. Naturally, she had to talk to her supervisor and explain why Mom couldn’t travel and even the supervisor gave her a hard time.
“I can send you a copy of the report from the emergency room if you want,” Mimi said, shaking her head. “Of course, we can get a doctor’s letter!”
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