by Ellen, Tracy
“Auntie Bel, I need to talk with you!” Stella called from the bottom of the stairs. “I couldn’t get in. Why is your code changed on the apartment door?”
“To stop people like you from walking in!” I called back to her. “Come on up!”
Stella was running up the stairs and calling me unflattering names when my phone vibrated again immediately before I could even put it down.
“Holy F’ing Hannah!” I muttered in disbelief.
This time it was a text from Crookie. Yukon Gold or Russet?
Perplexed, I realized Crookie must be stressing again. I think it’s the multiple choice factor, but men often freak out when grocery shopping. They do better with simple. Personally, I’ve never once called someone over a grocery store food choice in my life, but guys do it regularly. I’ve noticed it’s usually husbands in terror of their wife’s wrath, which must be another one of the little hidden perks of being happily married that I don’t get. However, since the majority of the items on Crook’s list he wrote down for his own recipe choices, I am truly puzzled. This text must be concerning the cauliflower and potato soufflé dish he wanted to try.
I shrugged and texted back, Yukon
“Very funny! Why did you really change it?” Stella asked, as she came into the foyer. Unbuttoning her black jacket and unwinding the sky blue scarf from around her neck, her cheeks were pink and her pretty blue eyes were more vivid than usual.
Walking into the living room, Stella brushed back her long, dark hair with her fingers. She is dressed like me, ready to work in jeans and a Bel’s T shirt. Today, her shirt is cherry red. I found myself looking for signs of her pregnancy, but she is as athletically slender as always. Mac said Stella is only three or four weeks late on her period.
“It’s been like a revolving door around here the last few days. I changed all the codes, but I’m not sharing the newest code to my apartment door.” At Stella’s affronted sniff, I asked, “Do you want me walking into your place any time I want?” Seeing her eyes widen at the thought, I nodded. “Exactly. Hey, before I forget, we need to have a meeting with Billy to talk over building security. Remind me later today, okay?” After Stella’s assent, I asked nonchalantly, “So, what brings you here this early? You don’t start work until ten, right?”
“Right, but I wanted to catch you alone,” Stella answered, biting her lip and then clearing her throat nervously. “Umm, there’s something I want your advice on.” Impetuously, my niece rushed over the last few feet and threw herself in my arms. I heard her muffled words against my neck where her face was buried, “I’m screwing up your morning, but I couldn’t wait another minute.”
My heart melted. I’m sure she was scared stiff; no matter how excited Mac said they both were over the news. Squeezing her back tightly, I led her over to the couch and she sat on the edge of a cushion. Still holding onto her hand, I swung it gently.
“Do you want water or something, Stella honey?”
“No thanks. Here, just sit down, please.” She patted the spot next to her and I sat down.
Stella faced me, took a deep breath, and then the words poured out at breakneck speed, “I’m pregnant, Auntie Bel. I’m so stupid, but I’m happy and scared. I feel really, really dumb, yet it’s so great and I’m so excited! Oh man, but I’m so young to have a baby and I’ve really fucked up my life royally, haven’t I?’ She ended the last words on a loud wail. It sounded so much like me earlier this morning that I had to laugh.
Pulling her into my arms, I calmed her tears and told her that yes, she was very dumb and she had fucked up, but it was her choice how to deal with it and that I supported any path she chose.
She wiped at her eyes and sniffed at me with suspicion in her voice, “You do? But you’re anti-baby.” Her voice rose hopefully, “You’d support me having this baby?”
I pulled back to see her face. “Yes, I support you. You goofball, I’m anti-baby for me. I’d be a terrible mother. For the world at large, I happen to think little humans are precious, especially our little Axelrod-DeVere humans.” I sighed and made a wry face. “Especially, when it’s my barely eighteen-year-old niece that is only a freshman in college who is pregnant by a…what does Eric George Jasnik say about our little bundle of joy?”
“Auntie Bel!” Stella groaned and playfully swiped at me for my snarkiness, but I could see the joy on her face. She has me and her mom in her corner. What more does a teenaged woman need to take on the world and succeed?
That’s what I think she’s thinking, too.
“I haven’t told him, yet. I’ve only told Mom and you.” Despite her youth, Stella is generally a thoughtful, methodical girl. Her nervousness over telling me about her pregnancy now gone, she spoke slowly, “I’m not really considering him in the equation as to what my final decision will be about this pregnancy. I mean, I totally like Eric George a lot and I’ll listen to what he has to say, but our relationship is too new.” She ducked her head and turned pinker, but plodded on with the truth, regardless of her embarrassment. “We’ve only been going out a few weeks, but we..uh…did it almost right away. It was just the one-time without…”
Her head shot up before the famous last words had left her mouth. Her blue eyes were huge and her mouth was an O.
Bursting out laughing, I crossed my arms when I got a sudden shiver. “Yep, you’ve been punked by the Curse of Fertile Myrtle McKenzie; our many times removed great Grandmother on NanaBel’s side.”
“I thought that was a joke!” protested Stella indignantly, crossing and rubbing her arms, too.
“I’m sure many McKenzie women thought it was a joke,” I nodded sagely, “until they too, found a spud baking in their oven after a one-timer.”
My niece and I cuddled on the couch and talked more about decisions, logistics, and life. Although I could get no firm promise out of her that I will get to pick this baby’s name; I am still hopeful.
The lobby doorbell stopped our conversation. Glancing at the big kitchen clock, I smiled to see the second hand sweeping up to the twelve. It’s 9:15 a.m. on the dot and Jack’s clean-up crew is here.
Carrying their supplies, the crew tromped up to the third floor while Stella hurriedly gathered her things to head down to the store.
At the stairs, she rolled her eyes in my direction and flashed her dimples. “I need to get to work early and finish the December schedule before my boss kicks my butt for slacking.”
“Yeah, your boss is a real slave-driver.”
“She’s a right bastard alright, if you don’t do your job.”
“She sounds incredibly amazing to me.”
“She is amazing. I think she’d make an amazing mother.”
“Ah yes, because every child needs a bastard for a mother.”
“I love you, Auntie Bel.”
“I love you, Niece Stella, and your little tater tot, too.”
Smiling, I watched the giggling Stella safely navigate the stairs. I glanced down the long hallway to the attic door. I wasn’t scared of the third floor room, but what happened up there was still too recent in my mind to make me comfortable seeing any bloodstains, or God forbid, smelling anything nasty. Gustav Hammerschmidt had stunk so horribly, and that was before he was dead. I could gag just thinking about the malodorous stench. I would definitely wait to go up there when the crew was done sanitizing and sterilizing.
My phone started vibrating again and I threw up my hands.
It was a text from Tre J: Can I come for Thanksgiving? I’ll bring snacks and games!
I texted back: Depends. What kind of snacks?
Tre J responded: Ha ha. Surprise snacks. 2?
I thumbed: Tease. 2.
Sometimes on the holidays, Tre’s whole family went out of state to her older brother’s down in Iowa. Single, in school, and working at Jazy’s stables, Tre J often stayed behind here in Northfield. She doesn’t need an invitation to join us, but no matter how many times over the years I have assured her of this, Tre’s innately too courte
ous to presume and always asks permission.
The apartment doorbell rang before I even made it back to the laundry room to throw the towels in the dryer. Hurrying, I completed this task. On the way to the intercom, my blasted cell rang again.
“Freaking unbelievable!” I swore loudly. I buzzed Anna up and answered my phone.
“Hey, Kenna.” I asked warily, “What’s up?”
“Hi, Bel.” Kenna’s voice was overly chipper and I knew right away she was bailing. What Kenna doesn’t understand is that I prefer when she bails from our plans these days. Often she was included simply as a courtesy because when she did show up, it was no fun dealing with her issues.
Anna came into the living room making a questioning gesture at the phone at my ear. I mouthed “Kenna” and she made a face, walking off to the kitchen to check out the offerings in the fridge.
“Yeah, something’s come up and I’m still in White Bear Lake at my friend’s. Tell Layla hello from me and I’ll catch up with you all sometime over the weekend.”
Translation: Kenna was shacking up with her newest man and couldn’t be bothered to take the time to see her cousin, or show up for Thanksgiving. Then next month, when she’s maudlin drunk, she’ll wonder why nobody in the family tries to hang with her.
After her most recent divorce from her much older daddy-husband, Kenna’s been lying low. She’s gone a lot lately and hanging out with friends that live outside of Northfield. The reprieve from the destructive drama that constantly trailed in her wake was like a breath of fresh air. Unfortunately, anyone that deals with a drinker or druggie in their life knows you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop because, for damn sure, it will drop.
I do not have one darn clue why my sister Kenna has a death wish. I didn’t know if she was born this way, if she was psychologically damaged somehow that I’ve never understood, or if she was just flat out an asshole determined to be miserable. Countless times, this conundrum was a late night anxiety topic boiling in my brain while I tossed and turned unable to sleep.
I do know a German-Scottish woman hell bent on the path of self-destruction was the last woman on Earth who would accept help. There was no female alive more stubborn, or meaner. I have failed repeatedly trying to help my sister fight the demons inside her soul. To watch Kenna continue to succumb deeper and deeper to the dark side caused unbearable sadness in me. It was so painful that it physically hurts.
I loved my sister, but I didn’t like her, and I’ve accepted that I couldn’t fix her.
Rather than point any of this out, I said, “No problem, see you around.”
“Wait! Don’t be mad, Anabel. I can’t help I’m too busy…”
I cut her off. I didn’t play these blame games with my sister any longer. “Kenna, do what you want, it’s all cool to me. I’m not mad. You know Layla’s number, so call her yourself to say hi. Listen, I am busy right now, so goodbye.”
“Jesus, will you wait a minute?” Kenna asked, sounding irritated. “When are you going clubbing?”
Laughing shortly to myself, I knew this game, too. If all of the girls were doing some activity revolving around partying, Kenna would show up for that event with bells on. Then she’d usually ruin the fun somehow by starting a drunken fight. I did not drink with my sister Kenna. “Sorry, you know my rule about drinking with you.”
“God, you’re such a bitch. I just want to see when I can work my schedule around seeing Layla, too.”
Being called a bitch and a bastard by Mac and Stella was one thing, but somehow it wasn’t so cute when it came from Kenna.
I reined in my temper. It helped when I glanced up and saw Anna. Her fingers were making a cross and pointing at my cell to ward off the evil emanations.
I spoke gently, “Call Layla and make whatever plans work for you both. Just do not plan on being with us if we go bar-hopping because you aren’t coming.”
Kenna hung up on me.
Shrugging resignedly, I put my phone down. Anna and I hugged while I thanked her for the lifesaving coffee and quiches and she murmured that I shouldn’t let Kenna get me down.
Consolingly, Anna patted my arm. “We all thank you for the tough love towards Kenna.” With the rights of a lifetime family friend she said, “She’s your sister and I hate to say it, but I won’t go near a bar or club if that crazy woman is with us.” She shivered and frowned. “As long as I live, I’ll never forget how awful she was at that concert at First Ave last summer. Kenna can be a frickin’ maniac when she’s wasted.”
I shrugged it off again. Anna was right. Kenna’s ruined far too many fun times. I can’t stop her from ruining her life, but I don’t have to allow her to ruin mine.
Sinking down on the sofa, I have just realized something else that was awful. Today I have already seen, talked, texted, emailed, or fought with my entire immediate family and my closest of friends--all before ten o’clock in the morning.
Putting a hand to my forehead, I wondered what was happening to my rules and my life.
My best friend sat sideways and cross-legged on the couch while saying, “I just got off the phone with Reg. Man alive, and did I get an earful, Junior.”
Laughing softly, I dropped my hand. It hadn’t escaped my notice that with Anna and Reg together as a couple, I now have a dedicated, fast-track lane on the male information highway. My brother was observant, gregarious by nature, and used to being heckled into talking by his sisters. Being involved with my best friend only sealed the deal.
“Oh yeah?” I asked.
That’s all the prompting Anna needed.
“Reggie said Luke and Mike were at breakfast together?” Anna said this with a question at the end, as if she didn’t quite believe my brother could have gotten that story right.
I nodded. “As far as I know. Crookie, Reg, Luke, and Mike went to Goodbye’s.”
“My God.” Anna breathed, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her lap. “How did you ever allow that to happen?”
“Couldn’t stop it. So, I bowed to the inevitable and ran up here.”
We both laughed.
Anna threw out her arms and glared, “Okay, Junior. I know you don’t talk about this stuff, but there is so much going on. This isn’t about a date or two with some guy, then nothing. You’ve got old boyfriends and new boyfriends and killers and date rape…”
I looked down at my hands and thought about what she’s saying. I wanted so badly to talk to Anna about everything going on in my life. I’ve never felt the urge to run and tell my girlfriends everything a man says or does to me, but for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to tell Anna some things. I needed a different perspective, if nothing else. Anna was trustworthy and she knew firsthand Luke was diabolical. Anyway, I know if Luke really wanted to find out something, it wasn’t like too many people on the planet were going to be able to stonewall the Master Blaster.
Besides, Luke wasn’t my enemy or adversary, was he?
I wasn’t sure about that one, either.
I looked up at my waiting friend. She’s dressed in her Laissez Fare work clothes and her hair was pulled up in a bouncing pony tail. Brown eyes the color of Cocoa Puffs watched anxiously for me to say something, her hands clenched around the pillow. I was experiencing one of those out-of-body feelings. I could plainly see what a pain it must be at times being my best friend. Poor Anna didn’t get much good girl talk from me.
“Okay, Anna. How much time do we have right now?”
“Umm…I have until ten. Trent’s opening, but I’m catering a lunch at 11:30. Then I have my tutoring student at 12:30 today.” She gave me a dirty look. “Have I thanked you lately for signing me up to do this tutoring?”
I waved her off. “You love tutoring, so you don’t fool me for a minute with that look.”
Anna argued hotly, “Sure, I love tutoring, but why do I have to spend my time doing volunteer work when you don’t?”
I grinned. “You were born to teach, Anna. Whether it’s English or coo
king, bossing people around until they get something through their heads or their mouths is your special talent.”
Anna rolled her eyes, but I could tell she’s secretly pleased. Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer my question. What about you volunteering?”
“Could you really picture me trying to teach English as a second language? I don’t think parents would appreciate their kids learning how to kick and curse.” Mournfully, I shook my head. “Nope, my special charitable talent is with my pen and checkbook.”
Anna was laughing and shaking her head even before I stopped speaking, “No, no, you sell yourself short. You help people all the time and I swear more than you!” She grumbled, “You just don’t ever want to be tied down to a specific time, and don’t think I don’t know that.”
Turning sideways, I sat cross-legged, too. “Well, Miss Volunteer of the Year, could I tie you down to listen about what’s been going down in my life for say the last...oh, I don’t know…two months?”
Anna’s head whipped up and she grinned broadly. “Well, it’s about damn time, June! I’m all ears.”
“First of all, you have…”
Anna motioned impatiently and interrupted, “Yeah, yeah, you paranoid woman, I swear to God not one of your secrets will ever pass my lips…”
We spoke in unison, “…not even to Reggie!?”
Smiling at each other, Anna grabbed both my hands and scooted closer. “Fire away.”
So I did.
Once I started, I couldn’t decide what to filter and have it all make sense.
So I didn’t filter.
I told Anna almost everything that has been going on in my life since I first met Luke in my store last April. I left out only the explicit details of our sex life since that was private between Luke and I. Speaking concisely; I don’t think I even stopped for a breath. Knowing our time was limited; Anna didn’t say one word or ask one question during my entire recital. That was impressive, although her eyes did get bigger, huge grins split her face, and her mouth dropped open once or twice.
When I told Anna about last night at Luke’s farm, I omitted Svettie’s legal troubles and Luke’s job confidences. I did tell Anna about Svettie staying on the farm, but left it as a casual co-worker and friend of the family coming for the holiday.