Tainted by Crazy

by Abby Mccarthy

  “You ever work in a bar before?”

  “I’ve got a couple of years bartending under my belt.”

  “How come I’ve never seen you in here before, then?”

  “I grew up here and have moved around a lot. I’m back and I need a job.”

  “What were you doing for work?”

  “I was working in a nursing home as a nurse’s aide. Pay was alright.”

  “Why didn't you get a job at the nursing home here?”

  “No openings,” I said.

  “I like you; you’re straight forward. I got two days during the week, and then weekends. That work for you?”

  “Yeah, it sure does.”

  “Alright well, you come by Tuesday by noon, and we’ll try you out. You can keep the tips you make that day, but if you’re shit and can't sling bar, then that will be it. Got it?”

  “Yes!”

  “Great. I’m Iggy.”

  “You’re Iggy?”

  “The one and only.”

  Hmm, I always thought Iggy had white hair and a beard. I would never have thought a woman was named Iggy.

  “Well nice to meet you, Iggy. I’m Maple.” I stretched my hand out to shake hers and finally I got a hint of a smile.

  “Maple, huh? You’re not Alice’s granddaughter, are you?”

  “The one and only,” I said with a smile.

  “You should’ve lead with that. Bob’s my husband’s uncle.”

  “The mechanic?” I questioned remembering Grams telling me that Bob’s nephew worked on Bertha.

  “Yeah, he owns Al’s Automotive.”

  “Please tell him thank you.”

  “Alice is good people,” she said and I nodded my head, smiled, thanked her for the job, exchanged phone numbers and told her I’d see her Tuesday. She followed me to the door and removed the help wanted sign and just like that, I had a job. It wasn’t full time and it’s not ideal, but at least it’s cash.

  I was finally home by late afternoon, but I knew my day’s work wasn't over. I started a pot of water for my pasta since I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, then I grabbed a large basket from the pantry and walked outside. The backyard was beautiful. Four large apple trees lined the back fence. A small stone pathway led you there. I wanted to reminisce and enjoy its beauty, but I was on a mission. I had work to do. I walked to the tree with the biggest apples, the one that got the most sunlight, and I filled my basket. By the time I was finished I rushed back inside and threw my pasta into the boiling water. While my pasta was cooking, I began my work on the apples. I peeled about two dozen apples, setting the peels and cores off to the side. I’d use those to make vinegar. Grams taught me to never waste when it came to our apples. The buzzer sounded letting me know the pasta was finished. I threw it into the strainer and peeled the last bit of apples while the pasta drained.

  I tossed some sauce on my pasta, let the apples soak and worked on my pastry in between bites. Grams has an old pie safe with a pressed tin front. I was pleased to find the pie dishes that I remembered so well, were all still there. Two hours later, I had the entire pie safe filled with Grams’ apple pies. I was beyond exhausted. Tomorrow, I would have some deliveries to make.

  I woke up with the sun beating heavily down on me. I was hot so I threw the covers off of me, stretched, cinched a robe around my waist, made coffee, and then headed back to bed to read a romance novel that I’d downloaded onto my phone when I’d had free Wi-Fi.

  The morning was quickly fading as I wiped a tear from my eye. This story was cutting deep. Maybe it’s the heartache in this story that reminded me I was in a relationship, he cheated, and I was not heartbroken. Pissed, yes, but heartbroken? Not quite. In a strange way, I was upset that I didn't feel more. The book made me force myself to question why I wasn’t sad. I mean, if Bradley meant something to me, then I should be, right? But no, I couldn't muster up heartbroken.

  I closed my Kindle app and decided that perhaps I should get up and get ready. I showered, spent extra time straightening my hair and fixing my make-up, so that it was natural-pretty. I put on a white blouse and a pair of slightly too short but comfortable jean shorts. I quickly applied lotion to my legs, as I waited for a piece of toast to pop in the toaster oven.

  The house was still needing a good cleaning. I chastised myself for spending the morning reading instead of getting to work around here. Sometimes, you just have to take care of your mind by soothing any aches with words.

  I finished loading three pies into Bertha. I was careful to make sure they were secure. My first stop was Grams. The assisted living community had a main building that was more long-term care, and then there were streets upon streets of condos. The residents in the condos were checked in on daily to make sure that they were doing okay and to deliver meds, if needed. There was an emergency response voice-activated system in each unit as well, so that if anything happened they would get immediate help. The lawns were all nicely kept. Some condos had huge flower gardens in the front of them, while others were very simple. There was a pool by a senior center that the residents drove golf carts to.

  I pulled up in front of the senior center and grabbed two pies. Grams had told me she would be playing Gin with some of her friends when I had phoned her earlier. I thought she would love this surprise. I walked into the center and was greeted by friendly staff. I let the staff know that I was visiting my Grams and quickly spotted her at a table near a large window, surrounded by a group of ‘vibrant, naturally-matured women,’ as my Grams would call them.

  “Grams,” I said as I approached and she looked up from her cards and gave me the biggest smile. “I come bearing gifts.” I held up the pies and was met with curious and welcoming eyes from four other women.

  “Maple, honey. You didn't have to do that, but we certainly appreciate this. Ladies, this is Maple. My one and only.” I kissed Grams on her head and took a peek at her hand. She was going to win any second. I could tell.

  I set the pies down on the only open spot on the table in between a coffee and a water, and pulled up a chair.

  “You baked us pie?” A tiny woman who probably came up to my boobs said in a frail voice.

  “Oh, that’s just like you to ask about food before introducing yourself and saying hello,” a black woman with short gray curly hair chastised the small woman. “Darling Maple, we done heard so much about you. Take a seat, we don't bite. Well, Ester might if she’s off her meds, but the rest of us I promise. I’m Sally.”

  “Well hello, Sally.” I sat down next to Grams and watched as she pulled a card, then laid her entire hand down calling, “Gin.”

  “Shoot, she won again! I’m Nancy, by the way, since no one was going to introduce me,” a round woman sitting in an electric wheelchair said.

  I gave her a smile and then Grams said, “Why don’t I hunt down some plates and then you all can taste my Maple’s apple pie.”

  “It’s her recipe, I just baked it.”

  “Nonsense, you make that pie better than I ever have; and besides it’s your recipe now,” Grams said walking away.

  “You want to play her hand while she’s gone?” The tiny little woman whose name I had yet to get asks.

  “Deal me in. What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Oh me, I’m Andrea, but my friends call me Sugar.”

  “Sugar? Ain’t nobody calling you Sugar, unless you’re talking ‘bout Merv,” Sally said as she picked up her hand that tiny little Sugar had dealt.

  “I’ll call you Sugar, if that’s what you like,” I smiled as I looked over the cards in my hand. This should be a fast game. Baking pies wasn’t the only skill Grams taught me.

  Esther drew from the deck and discarded. Sally picked up the two cards in the pile, and also discarded.

  “I met Merv the other day. Is he your guy, Sugar?”

  “Maple, if you met Merv, then you know he is everyone’s man. That guy is a player,” Nancy said while she finished her turn. She laid down another card that I could us
e and I smiled internally, careful not to let the ladies know.

  “That’s not true. He’s changed,” Sugar said as I took my turn.

  “That’s the same old story. They all say they’ve changed. You ever met a man who’s really changed and who’s been married as many times as Merv?” Sally asked Sugar as Sugar took her turn.

  “You know all those divorces weren’t his fault,” Sugar said laying down a card. One more round of this, and I was betting I could win.

  “How ‘bout you, Maple? You ever met a man who’s said he’s changed and he really, for the God’s honest truth, changed?” I thought back to all the mistakes in my life. And recalled the men I’d dated who had indeed told me their excuses for failed relationships, and did have quite a few convince me that they were no longer “that man” and in fact they all ended up being exactly “that man”.

  “No, I suppose you’re right. Most men don’t change,” I said knowing it was going to be my turn in just another second.

  “Well, I think Merv is a changed man,” Sugar said.

  “She would,” Esther grumbled and took a sip of her coffee.

  It was quickly my turn again, and I picked up half of the deck this time and smiled as I shuffled some cards in my hand around then laid my entire hand down and called, “Gin.”

  “That’s my girl!” Grams said walking up with plates just as I announced my win.

  “Jesus, she’s just as good as Alice,” Nancy said.

  Grams grabbed one of the pies and sliced into it, then began scooping out slices and I helped her pass them out.

  “Maple honey, this is amazing!” Sally said taking the first bite.

  Grams looked at me with pride in her eyes as she settled down with her own slice. “It’s heaven, dear. Better than my pie ever was.”

  I blushed, embarrassed by her praise, and took the first bite of pie. I haven't baked in so long, I was surprised at how good it truly was. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought that it felt good, making people happy with my food. It felt even better knowing that I was really good at something.

  After several more rounds of Gin and a belly full of pie, I ended my visit with an invitation to join their weekly game, to which I politely declined, saying that I didn't think they could handle it if Grams and I both played each week. We would wipe the floor with them. It wouldn't even be fair, we were that good.

  I stopped at the main nursing home on my way out and dropped off an application, just in case something opened up, then I made my way out to deliver my next pie.

  Grams instilled one very important custom in me. If someone does you a solid, you repay them. No matter what. This was the thought filtering through my head as I pulled up in front of Earl’s home. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Keenan Rys was bent under the hood of his blue truck, shirtless. I wasn’t thinking about how the muscles on his back flexed. No, that thought wasn't what I was thinking. I was only here to deliver pie; at least that’s what I told myself.

  Rys didn't notice me at first, or he did, but he didn't let on that he knew I was here. Not until I reached the screen door and lifted my fist to knock, did he shout from under the hood of his truck, “He ain’t here.” The deep timbre of his voice startled me. “Ma took him to an appointment this afternoon.” Rys stood from under the hood and I gripped the pie dish excruciatingly hard.

  Hard, now there was a word to describe what I was looking at. Every ridge in his chiseled chest, every curve, every expanse of beautiful skin, was incredibly, very hard. My eyes widened and I took in a breath. I had to remember to breathe.

  I forgot how the South breeds men.

  I quickly looked away, but not before I noticed the smirk on Keenan Rys’ face. He knew how damn rock hard his chest was and the very effect it most likely had on the entire female population.

  I plastered a look on my face that said I was not affected, squared my shoulders and stared him down. I was not going to let him see the obvious attraction that was painted on my face a second time. “The door open, then? I’ll just leave this inside, and get on my way,”

  Rys approached then leaned over me, incredibly too close, and pulled open the door. “It’s open. Whatcha’ got there?” He caged me in on all sides, and my only escape was to enter the house. I took a deep breath. It didn't matter that I could smell him. It didn't matter that he was near. He was, but a stranger. Okay, maybe an incredibly beautiful stranger who smelled all man, but he was just a man, and men were trouble for me.

  “I baked a pie to say thank you,” I sheepishly admitted as I move about. I set the pie down on a table littered with junk mail, ignoring Rys’ looming form watching me in the doorway. I move to the desk, grabbed a pen and a sticky note and scrawled out a quick thank you note.

  Earl,

  Thanks for the gas. Enjoy the pie-Maple

  “You sure know your way around here, Maple?” Rys said still holding the doorway upright.

  “I do. Like I said, I’ve spent quite a bit of time here.”

  I moved towards Rys, trying my best to keep my gaze off his beautifully chiseled chest. He was still blocking the doorway, “Are you going to move out of a lady’s way?” I looked up at him, met his eyes and batted my eyelashes. So what, if Keenan Rys was beautiful, I would not be pulled into another dreamy-eyed man’s thrall.

  He stepped out of the way and held the door open for me, “By all means, after you.” I knew the player that was Rys was staring at my behind. I had no other choice than to walk past him.

  “Twice in two days, you come around throwing sass. Makes a man wonder what’s got a woman so worked up.”

  I froze with his parting words, then turned back and glared at him, “How on Earth is bringing someone pie throwing sass?”

  “How on Earth is bringing someone pie throwing sass?” He mocked.

  I glowered at him and headed straight for Bertha. I didn't have time for this. I needed to go home and get ready for dinner at Carl and Darlene’s.

  He followed me as I got into Bertha, and leaned over the car. He was bent forward and damn my betraying eyes on this man’s chest.

  “Thought you had more fight in you than that. The way Earl talks about you, he made it seem like you could throw punches with the best of them. Sorry, if I offended you,” he offered up an apology, but it didn't feel like one. It felt sarcastic and insincere. He didn’t know me. Yes, perhaps I had given him some attitude, but I had my reasons.

  “Oh, I can throw a punch, but considering less than seventy-two hours ago, throwing a punch landed me in lock up, I think I’ll pass on coming to blows with you, Keenan Rys.”

  He laughed; actually laughed at me. “You were in lock up?” he finally spit out after several seconds of chuckling at me.

  I give him a look that said ‘well if the shoe fits’.

  “Earl was right, you got fire. Looking forward to that pie,” he said backing away from Bertha. “Oh, and Maple?”

  “Yes?” I questioned.

  “I can't wait to taste it.” Shoot. Why did it feel like he was referring to a different pie?

  I shook my head at him as I backed out of Earl’s and realized he had made me smile. I quickly wiped that away. I could not let a man make me smile.

  I pulled Bertha into the back deciding I’d be walking tonight. Inside, I checked the clock. I had two hours until dinner. I might as well get a little cleaning done. Under the kitchen sink, I found homemade apple cider vinegar for the wood and bleach for the bathrooms. I filled a bucket with vinegar and then began polishing and dusting all of the woodwork in the living room and dining room. The grooves in the mirror over the fireplace took me a while, but after an hour I could see a difference. There was something about the way the apple cider vinegar cleaned that just made the wood glow, almost as if it was bringing it back to life.

  I showered and dressed in a black, cherry print wrap dress. It was perfect for dinner parties. It wasn’t too tight, but hugged my waist, and then gave at the hip. It also had the smallest amo
unt of black lace on the cap sleeves. It made me feel feminine and beautiful. Beautiful. Now, there’s a word. I examined myself in the mirror. With my brown hair down, blown out and swept over a shoulder, and a light amount of makeup, I felt good. Wasn't that strange? Sometimes, all you needed to do was put on your favorite lip gloss and a nice dress, and all your troubles just seemed to drift away. Grams always told me there ain't nothing wrong with hiding behind a pretty dress and your southern smile, sometimes that light on the outside would seep into the dark on the inside.

  I was greeted instantly with warm hugs from Darlene and Carl, as soon as I knocked on their door. I handed off the two pies I brought to Darlene. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

  I politely smiled. Any good southern woman knew you didn't come to dinner empty-handed. “Thank you for inviting me,” I said as I walked into the room and froze. I shot Carl a panicked look. I wanted to run out of the door and back down the street to the safety of Grams. I wanted to rewind time and politely decline the invitation to dinner. There were a lot of things I wanted; however, there was nothing I could do about that right then. Right then, I was staring at a house filled with people I loved. Sitting on the couch was Rebecca. Her long blonde hair was in soft waves and flowed over her light pink blouse. She was looking at her son and laughing when her eyes made contact with my own.

  “Maple,” I heard her husband, Jack Landry, say before he completely rounded the corner from the kitchen. And there he was, the man who started all of my mistakes. His light hair and light eyes perfectly complimented Rebecca’s fair skin. The two were a perfect match, perhaps I should have seen how beautiful they would have been together right from the start and maybe then it wouldn’t have hurt so badly when my best friend slept with my boyfriend thus creating the beautiful young man sitting next to his mom.

  I gave a nod and said hello to the room in a quiet voice. It still hurt to see Rebecca and the family that she had made. There were so many ways a man could betray you, but when a best friend did it, it cut deep.

  “I didn't realize you guys moved back,” I said to Rebecca.