Cathead Crazy

by Rhett DeVane

  “How’d you know?”

  The squeals of a winning game show contestant sounded through the walls. Mae’s next-door neighbor Nancy: hard of hearing and addicted to television.

  “Nothing much gets by your old mama.” Mae grinned. “Cynthia Jean’s grandson was at that little folderol last Saturday night. Only, he had sense enough to con someone into taking him home before the cops were called. He was drunker than Cootie Brown. Poor boy puked for hours.” Mae chuckled and took a sip of iced tea. “Reckon he’s grounded for the next year, knowing his parents. His daddy’s a deacon at the Baptist church.”

  Hannah located three puzzle pieces, but none fit snugly into the spot she was trying to fill. She squelched the urge to pound one of them into place.

  Mae sucked air though her teeth. “Hate to say ‘I told you so’ . . . ”

  “So resist the urge.”

  Mae separated the tan and brown sections. “Here, baby. It’s much easier to find what you’re searching for if you get all the similar ones hemmed up in one place.”

  No matter how old Hannah was, she was forever a child in her mother’s eyes. “Thank you, Ma-Mae.”

  “You want me to talk to my granddaughter?”

  “If you want to. Don’t know if she’ll listen. Or if she does, if it will sink in. Justine’s awfully hard-headed.”

  Mae passed her daughter a piece of the beach section and it fit perfectly. “So are you and you turned out pretty fair.” She paused. “Can I tell you something without you getting all sullied up?”

  “You’re going to anyway.” Hannah massaged her temples and wished Mae’s TV remote could reach through the walls. Mute. Mute. Mute!

  “Suppose I am.” Mae nodded. “Younguns try their parents to see if they can get away with the devil. It’s happened since Adam and Eve ate that apple and left the Garden. You wouldn’t want a child who was a doormat. The trick is to keep ’em reined in enough so they don’t kill their fool selves, while letting them try their wings.”

  “Easier said than done, Ma-Mae.”

  “Sugar plum,” Mae said as she fit two more pieces into place. “Only bad things are easy.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah closed her eyes and imagined a tropical cruise. The ship rocked gently. Overhead the skies were deep blue, marked by a few high clouds scudding on the trade winds. The sun caressed her oiled skin, the tension in her muscles eased, and she drifted into a blissful semi-slumber on a cushioned lounge.

  “Baa-savis! Baa-savis!” an accented voice called out. It took a second for Hannah to translate: Bar service! She managed to lift one hand and the linen-crisp server appeared by her chair.

  “Yes Miss?”

  The title amused her. How many years had it been since anyone had referred to her as Miss instead of Mrs. or Ma’am or Madam?

  “One of those frozen dessert coffee drinks, please. Don’t spare the whipped cream.”

  “Yes Miss.” He bowed and scurried off to the cabana bar.

  She wondered what the peasants would be doing at this hour. Frying bacon and flipping eggs? Making the beds? Worrying about kids and an aging mother? Good thing she wasn’t one of them.

  “Mom,” a young male voice called. “Mom? MOM!”

  A female voice said, “She’s coffee-tripping again.”

  The vestiges of the tropical fantasy faded and Hannah opened her eyes. She was back amongst reality, a peasant holding a spatula and an opened bag of ground coffee beans.

  “Maybe you should see that shrink instead of me.” Justine grabbed the spatula from her mother’s hand and stirred the browning potatoes.

  Jonas rummaged through the refrigerator’s condiment section. “Mom, where’s my catsup?”

  Her son would eat catsup on cereal, if he could get away with it.

  “You told me last night you were out, Jonas. I haven’t been to the store yet.”

  He backed out of the refrigerator and shut the door. “This will go on your permanent record, Mom.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yep, and I’ll take it into consideration when I choose a nursing home for you.”

  Justine stifled a snicker.

  Jonas continued, “And I may choose not to feed you your applesauce.”

  He ducked to avoid the damp dish rag Hannah hurtled in his direction.

  “Now you’ve done it!” Jonas stood with his arms akimbo. “I’ll have to put in that call to child services.”

  When had her sweet son developed such a keen sense of humor?

  “Fair enough,” Hannah fired back, “but the next time you leave a pile of disgusting moldy wet towels in the bathroom, or I find even one half-eaten sandwich shoved underneath your bed, I’ll make sure you attend college at the University of Florida.”

  His grin faded. Since Jonas and his father were die-hard Florida State fans, the mere mention of the rival school struck deep. Jonas grabbed his chest. “You wouldn’t!”

  Norman schlepped into the kitchen. “Morning, hon.” He delivered a drive-by kiss on the way to the coffee maker. “Boy, did I ever sleep like a ton of bricks last night.”

  One side of his comb-over stood up, reminding Hannah of a rooster’s headdress. She reached up and smoothed it down. “Snored like you were hauling them up a steep hill, too.” Hannah turned to the stove and flipped a fried egg. “Gah! I hate it when I break the doggone yolk!”

  “I’ll eat it, Mom. I hate the runny junk anyways.” Jonas loaded a plate with crisp hash browns and held it out for his mother.

  “You’re a good man, Jonas Olsen.” She slapped the over-cooked egg atop his potatoes and added two strips of turkey bacon.

  Justine poured a tall glass of orange juice and grabbed a piece of buttered toast.

  “You want eggs, Jus?” Hannah asked.

  “No time. Got to be over at Brit’s.”

  “Where will you be today?”

  Hannah stifled a grin as she witnessed the inner struggle reflected on her daughter’s features. Since her brush with the law, Justine’s polite party manners, usually reserved for complete strangers or peers, warred with her turbulent teenaged defiance.

  “I’ll be at Brit’s until nine, when her mother will escort us to Governor’s mall. We’ll shop for a couple of hours or so. Then we’ll grab lunch, maybe go to Target or Kohl’s. Back at Brit’s before six. Her mom has to be somewhere later.”

  Hannah turned back to the stove and cracked two eggs into the sizzling skillet, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “A most gracious thank-you for your specific itinerary, Missy-Ma’am.”

  Justine finished the orange juice in several swigs, ate a couple of bites of toast, and wiped her lips. “See ya!”

  Norman settled into a chair at the round oak table and flipped a paper napkin onto his lap. “Restriction surely isn’t what it used to be.”

  Hannah loaded two plates and joined her son and husband. “She’s been housebound for a couple of weeks now. She’s done all the chores I assigned, plus attending the counseling sessions mandated by the judge. I thought a little reward of shopping, with adult supervision of course, wasn’t out of line.” She took a bite of hash browns. “Besides, she needs some summer tops, and I don’t feel like getting back in the car and driving to Tallahassee. I have to see that section of road every day as it is.”

  Hannah crumbled turkey bacon and put a few pieces on a napkin on the floor beside her chair. Slug regarded her with his sleepy-eyed gaze of appreciation before hunkering down to eat.

  “Brit has bird legs,” Jonas said. A dribble of grease glistened at the corner of his mouth.

  “She’s a bit thin,” Hannah said. “That’s the way girls your sister’s age want to look.”

  Jonas shrugged and took a swig of milk.

  Hannah studied her son. “Since when have you started noticing the females in your world?”

  “Oh Maa-umm.”

  “Good for you to see something besides that computer screen,” Norman said.

  �
��I didn’t say I liked her. Gross.” Jonas pinched his lips together. “She’s just way skinny, is all I meant.”

  ~~~

  When Hannah turned into the Rosemont parking area, she braked sharply to avoid a cluster of emergency vehicles: two fire trucks, an ambulance and several police cruisers.

  “What the—?” She circled in vain before accelerating to a nearby convenience store parking lot. Her hands shook as she jabbed the cell phone’s quick-dial number for the front desk. “Beth? This is Hannah Olsen.”

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “What’s going on? I pulled up and there were all these emergency people!”

  “We’ve had a little fire,” Beth said over the din of background noise.

  “Wow. Serious?”

  “Don’t think so. It started in one of the AC units on the third floor. But the smoke came down the elevator shafts to the second floor.”

  “Where are the residents?”

  Beth chuckled. “Most of them are standing here in the reception area. They were outside until the fire chief gave the ‘all clear.’ Now they’re milling around, talking about the adventure.”

  “You must be having fun right about now.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Beth said. “The rest are probably still out in the garden. That’s where the second and third floors evacuate.”

  Hannah heard shuffling and bits of conversation.

  “Your mom’s down here in her robe. She was napping when the alarm sounded.”

  Hannah took a deep breath and released the tension in her shoulders. “Will you tell her I’ll be by later? I have some papers for her to sign, but I think I’ll wait until things calm down there.”

  “You should’ve seen us!” Mae swept her hands through the air. “It was like the fire drills in elementary school when we had to line up single file and go to a certain spot outside the building. Course back then, we would’ve been thrilled if the place burnt to the level ground.”

  Mae motioned to the white wicker chairs lining Rosemont’s front porch. “Let’s sit a spell outside. I was cooped up most of the day yesterday, ’cept for the fire alarm.”

  “They make you go through fire drills here?” Hannah asked.

  “You bet. Some kind of safety rule, no doubt. My hall is to head out either the main lobby door or the emergency door at the end of the unit. There’s an aide in charge of opening each exit. It’s a good thing too, on account of that hall door is metal and heavy as the dickens. Suppose if push came to shove, me and the woman across the hall could manage to bully it open.” Mae grinned. “Everyone toddled along like clockwork. The administration folks were real proud. Reckon they’ll throw us a party.”

  “Not like you don’t already have one a week.”

  They sat in silence for a moment before Hannah noticed a few white blooms on one of the trees by the parking lot. “Look, Ma-Mae. The Magnolias are starting to bloom.”

  “Bet that one at the house is full, too. That tree has to be over sixty years old by now. Surely hope my grandson doesn’t get a wild hair to cut it down.”

  “Don’t think he would. Michael Jack’s terribly sentimental. He climbed that tree when he was a boy.”

  Mae clamped her hands together. “When’s he moving in?”

  “End of the month. The paper work’s almost ready for the closing. Michael Jack’s excited. He’s making plans to refinish the wood floors and build extra shelves in the closets.”

  Mae rested one hand over her heart. “Does me a world of good, knowing he’ll be there to love my house. Me and your daddy spent a lot of good years protected by those walls.”

  Hannah switched the subject. “You given any thought on where you might want to go on Mother’s Day?”

  “Doesn’t much matter to me, sugar. Anywhere you kids take me is okay. I like to get out every now and then. I miss driving my car. But Lord knows, with my eyes like they are anymore, I surely wouldn’t want to risk it.”

  Maxine pushed through the double doors. “Mind if I join y’all?”

  “Got your name on it, right here.” Mae patted the tropical-print cushion in the chair beside hers.

  Maxine eased down with a grunt. “Whew! Took every bit of my wind to walk out here and sit down. That’s pitiful, ain’t it?”

  “Just be glad you got that wind.” Mae smiled.

  “Did you hear? Barney’s in the hospital,” Maxine said.

  “Lordy, no! What’s up with him? Did you finally push him over the edge?”

  Maxine smirked. “Of course not. It had nothing whatsoever to do with me. The old coot slipped and fell.”

  “Did he break anything?”

  “Just bummed him up, from what his son told me.”

  Mae tsked. “Good thing he didn’t go and break a hip. That’s the start of the downward spiral on folks his age.”

  “Ma-Mae, isn’t Mr. Barney younger than you?” Hannah asked.

  Mae’s penciled-in brows knit together. “Possibly. Hard to tell. All old men look alike to me.”

  Maxine held up one finger. “He’s younger than both of us, Mae. His shakes make him look like he’s older, is all.”

  “You are surely the voice of compassion today, Maxine,” Mae said. “Since when do you take up for Barney?”

  Maxine tilted her chin upward. “Me and Barney have come to an understanding.”

  “Is that so?”

  Hannah allowed her mind to wander. The friendly chatter flowed around her.

  “Rosemont’s too small for us to continue on the way we were going,” Maxine said. “We’ve declared a truce. Doesn’t mean I’m going to sit next to him or idly pass the time of day. But at least we won’t be firing up the artillery.”

  “That’s Christian of you two,” Mae said. “Don’t you think so, Hannah?”

  When her daughter failed to answer, Mae poked her in the side.

  “Wha—?”

  “You and them daydreams of yours! One day, you gonna miss out on something worth hearing.”

  “Sorry.” Hannah offered a sheepish smile. “It’s such a nice afternoon. Guess I have a case of spring fever.”

  Maxine clucked. “Ain’t a thing wrong with that kind of fever, honey. I’ve felt a twinge of it myself, lately. It was springtime when I first fell in love.”

  “Does tend to get the blood rising.” Mae nodded.

  Maxine turned to Hannah. “Did your Mama tell you about the mother/daughter tea next weekend?”

  “Shoot!” Mae slapped her lap. “I’d forget to breathe, if my lungs didn’t do it by themselves!”

  “What tea?” Hannah asked.

  “They’re having a special tea in honor of Mother’s Day next Saturday,” Mae said. “I’d like you to be here, if you can. Ask Helen and Suzanne, and Justine if she’ll come.”

  “We’re supposed to dress up and wear hats,” Maxine added.

  “We used to wear white gloves to tea parties.” Mae strummed her fingers over her hands as if she was donning the imagined accessory. “I had the prettiest pair with delicate handmade lace at the cuff and seed pearl buttons.

  Hannah said, “The only gloves I own are heavy latex and they’re bright blue.”

  Mae patted her daughter on the arm. “Might leave the gloves off, then.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The garden dining area at Good Eats was unusually calm. Hannah chose a table next to a bubbling wall fountain and wiped a few crumbs from the glass top. The lunch crowd had dwindled and a less frenzied group took its place: soccer moms, college students, and a scattering of briefcase-toting executives. The afternoon spread out before her. No work, no children, no mother. A few stolen hours to squander in any fashion she pleased.

  Becky Weston rushed onto the patio and flung her arms around Hannah’s neck, almost knocking her backward into a parlor palm. “Good gracious, woman! It’s so good to see you!”

  Becky slipped into the chair opposite Hannah, casting her hot pink, fur-trimmed purse to the faux brick floor. “I couldn’
t believe we were actually going to have lunch together. How long’s it been?”

  Before Hannah could mentally calculate, Becky answered, “Since before Christmas. I remember because we talked about that disastrous Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws.”

  One good thing about her life-long friend: an uncomfortable lull in conversation was never an issue. On the occasions when Becky phoned, Hannah could wash dishes, vacuum, and clean both toilets while her vivacious friend babbled. As long as Hannah contributed an occasional grunt of acknowledgement, Becky could steer the cart all by herself.

  Hannah studied her friend’s features. The wrinkles around Becky’s green eyes had deepened and the worry-crease between her brows seemed more pronounced. Becky’s shoulder-length, coarse straight hair, once dark black, had morphed into a mostly gray mix of salt and pepper. She was what Ma-Mae referred to as a handsome woman: not pretty by conventional measure, yet pleasing in appearance.

  Hannah ran her fingers through her own short brown hair. How did she look to someone who had not seen her in six months? Had the stress of being pulled in so many directions etched new crags into her once-smooth face?

  “You look wonderful!” Becky continued without benefit of a reply. “Why the heck don’t you ever age, dadgum you? I swear, if you hadn’t been my best friend since grade school, I’d despise you, Hannah Mathers Olsen.”

  The off-hand compliment brought a slight smile to Hannah’s face. “You obviously aren’t looking closely then. That’s the good thing about failing vision. The lines don’t show up too well, unless you’re wearing glasses. It’s like having a soft-focus filter. But thanks for saying so, all the same.”

  Becky reached across the table and gave Hannah’s hand a quick squeeze. “How’s everything? I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. Kids, job . . . ” She flipped a manicured hand in the air. “Life.”

  Hannah exhaled. “Whatever happened to the times when we were carefree and young? Seems like there was nothing to worry us at all.”

  “We’re the grown-ups now. That’s what happened.” Becky pursed her lips. “And it seriously sucks.”