Chickens & Hens

by Nancy-Gail Burns

  “Springfield.” Eugenia barely manages to mutter the answer before the next question pelts her.

  “I never heard mention of Frank’s father. Will he also be accompanying you?”

  “I’m a widow. My husband had a terrible accident and lost his life at a young age. What about yourself?”

  Libby’s mouth purses in annoyance. Questions slow her down. “I’ve only heard about Frank. Don’t you have any other children?”

  “No, Frank is an only child.”

  “How odd,” she says as she grips her arm. “So are you going to buy a property or rent?”

  Libby leads her to a corner. Trapped, Eugenia looks past her. “My, the food table looks divine. Excuse me, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m famished.” She steps out of her grasp and pounces on a fancy sandwich stuffed with chicken. A step behind, Libby’s questions continue to bombard. “Hope you don’t have any allergies. I made those squares.” Libby points to the platter. “They have real butter in them. That’s not a problem, is it?”

  “Not at all,” Eugenia assures her.

  “You can’t be too careful. People suffer from so many medical problems. It’s not an issue with you, is it? You don’t have any medical problems, do you?”

  “I’m allergic to cashews.”

  Granny intervenes. “I hope it’s not a life-threatening allergy.”

  “Not at all. It’s more of a nuisance than anything. I actually appear drunk,” Eugenia confides with a chuckle. “My lips become numb, and I slur my words.”

  “Don’t have to worry about my squares,” Libby announces as she moves in closer. “There’s not a cashew in them.”

  Granny grabs Eugenia’s arm and turns to Libby. “Don’t hog our special guest. Everyone wants to meet her.” She plunks Eugenia on the sofa beside Doris Blake and leaves.

  You hate yourself for disliking kind-hearted Doris, but you can’t help it. She’s annoying with her non-stop talking about nothing. People react in one of two ways when ensnared by Doris: They either fall asleep or mimic a caged animal. Eugenia squirms in her seat, and her neck elongates as she looks off in the distance.

  “Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Doris’s words are like a lullaby. “And after the gallbladder surgery, my appendix burst. Well, it didn’t actually burst, but it could have. The next thing I know, I’m back in the hospital. In the same room I was in for my gallbladder. Isn’t that odd?”

  Eugenia’s eyes glaze over.

  “My husband’s death was a shock,” Doris whines. “He dropped dead without any warning.”

  “Who can blame him?” Eugenia mutters.

  The chattering abruptly ceases to become as ominous as a forest without birds twittering. Hands cover mouths, and eyes snap open. Everyone hears the exchange. Eugenia’s voice carries even when she mutters, and human nature assures that appalling things are heard.

  Doris’s voice becomes tight, her words clipped. “What did you say?”

  Eugenia is quick to retort. “I said what a shame for him.”

  Doris looks Eugenia straight in the eyes. “You’re such a witch,” she says pleasantly.

  Eugenia’s hooded eyes never change expression. “What did you say?”

  “I said I want a sandwich.” Doris replies as she heads to the snack table.

  Women gather around Doris to whisper and glance at Eugenia with stiff scowls. Eugenia ignores the tangle of women.

  Granny leads Anne Fisher to the newly vacated seat. Anne is the town’s organizer. She believes everyone should donate as much of their time as she does. “So, when will you be arriving?”

  “I haven’t set a specific date.”

  “I very much want to know.”

  Eugenia’s right brow lifts.

  “It’s important,” Anne explains. “I’ll give you a few days to get settled, and then I assume you’ll want to help me with a few committees. I heard you’re as involved in issues as I am. Thank God! I need help desperately.” She glances down, and her eyes widen. “Your purse and shoes aren’t leather, are they?”

  “Of course they are,” Eugenia huffs. “I would never wear manmade imitations.”

  “Wearing dead animals doesn’t make a fashion statement,” Anne growls. “My work focuses on rescuing animals in trouble. You do believe in helping animals?”

  Eugenia giggles. “Actually, I focus on helping myself to animals. I love all meats, and I adore furs and always wear leather.”

  Anne’s freckles run off, leaving her pale. She vacates her spot without explanation. Whispers fill another corner.

  Granny passes out wine and squares. Eugenia snatches one of each. The looks everyone gives our special guest holds the trepidation normally reserved for a plague. Granny nudges Sally Phillips. “You really should introduce yourself.”

  Sally plants her feet, refusing to budge.

  “Eugenia loves plays and books.”

  Sally inches forward, since she shares the same interests.

  The conversation starts well. “Have you seen Beauty?” Sally asks.

  “It’s running across the country. It’s hard not to see it.” Eugenia giggles. She then explains the play to Sally in a manner one would use with a child.

  Sally listens politely. When Eugenia’s lecture concludes, she resists her interpretation. “It’s the underlying nuances that present the real theme of the performance.” She ignores Eugenia’s tapping feet. “What you say is true, but you must look beyond what’s being said and watch and listen to how it’s presented.”

  Eugenia’s makeup doesn’t hide the redness of her face. “Interpretations are subjective. Besides, any play staged here must star third-string actors.”

  “I saw it on Broadway.”

  Eugenia’s nose flares. “Doesn’t matter. Unless you know the playwright, you can’t say whose interpretation is correct.”

  “But I do know the playwright, and we’ve discussed his work. He’s the one who told me to give more importance to the subtle nuances.”

  Eugenia’s eyes look past Sally. The discussion is over. Granny almost runs into Sally as she hurries over with a tray of squares. Eugenia grabs one and swallows it whole. She sits alone on our long blue velvet couch as others bunch in tight formations.

  “Ellie,” Eugenia calls. “May I use your telephone?”

  “Certainly,” Ma replies.

  Granny leans over Ma and whispers, “She’s going to snitch to Frank.”

  “We’ll soon see,” Ma whispers back.

  Chapter 38

  Children are unseen unless they act up. My quietness covers me like an invisible cloak. I follow Eugenia. I know she’s calling Frank, and I want to hear what she’ll tell him.

  “Come and get me,” she hisses as soon as he picks up.

  A minute passes. “I don’t care what your plans were. Pick me up immediately.” She ends the conversation by slamming down the phone.

  Fran arrives. A group of women flock to her.

  Eugenia slinks over. The group disperses. “You finally made it,” Eugenia says in lieu of a greeting.

  Fran takes off her coat. “I thought I was never going to finish my errands.”

  Eugenia sniffs. “Come sit with me. I have no one to talk to.”

  Eyebrows pull together and heads tilt as the women find Fran’s eyes. “You introduced yourself to everyone,” Fran says knowingly.

  They sit on the sofa, and everyone in their vicinity gets up to help themselves to refreshments. The doorbell’s ring pierces the silence of the room. Ma answers the door. Frank’s large frame fills the doorway. “Hello, everyone!” he calls out as he makes his way inside.

  Fran gets up to greet him, but Eugenia cuts her off and reaches him first. “We really must be going,” she says as she tries to steer him to the door.

  Frank looks down at her glass. “You’ve not finished your wine.”

  Eugenia empties it in one gulp. “Done. Let’s go.”

  Frank tries to disengage himself from her hold. “Give me a
moment to say hello to everyone.”

  Eugenia grabs her head. “I would, but I have a terrible headache.”

  “Poor Mother,” Frank says as he allows her to edge him toward the door. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and whispers in her ear. “Wine is dripping from the corners of your mouth. It’s staining your exquisite suit.”

  She grabs the handkerchief and wipes herself quickly.

  Frank’s eyes search the room. He breaks into a smile. “Hello, Frannie.”

  Eugenia pulls at his arm but he doesn’t move. She loses her footing and stumbles.

  Words echo. “She’s drunk.”

  Eugenia turns and addresses the room. “Listen here, you polyester-wearing cretins. I’m not drunk, so quit whispering that I am. I’m having an allergenic reaction.” Her words slur.

  “Maybe she’s allergic to wine,” a voice whispers. “She downed at least three glasses.”

  Eugenia begins to shake. An odd rattle echoes from her throat. “Considering the company I was forced to keep, who can blame me?” She rubs her lips. “One of you fools let me eat something that has nuts in it after I explicitly said I was allergic to cashews.”

  Her words lurch as surely as her footing.

  Libby rolls her eyes. “You can’t blame my squares. They don’t have cashews in them. There’s only butter and flour and eggs and chocolate and a bit of ground peanuts.”

  “Peanuts,” Eugenia spits. “Don’t you understand processing and trace elements? Any time a nut is an ingredient, I have to assume they use their equipment for cashews.”

  Libby turns a brilliant shade of red. Ma puts her hand on her arm. “She didn’t know.”

  “I don’t care what she knows or doesn’t. All I care about is getting out of here. You women are rude and stupid. You can’t even tell the difference between an allergenic reaction and drunkenness.”

  “No one said you were drunk, Eugenia,” Doris smirks. “We said your evening has been full of bad luck.”

  “Sure, you did. Ever since I arrived, each of you has gone out of your way to make me feel unwelcome.” Her voice quivers, and her eyes water. Can she possibly believe she has been nice to the other women?

  Frank looks around the room. “Is that true?”

  Granny comes forward. She runs a hand through her bristly grey hair. “Eugenia, I don’t know how we made you feel that way. Please accept my apologies. Since you’re moving to Farley Falls shortly, I hope we can share many more occasions together.” She spreads her arms. “These women will be your new friends. It wasn’t our intention to make you feel unwelcome.”

  Eugenia’s eyes narrow. “Don’t give me any phoney apologizes.” Her words run into each other, making them difficult to understand. “You guaranteed the evening would turn out exactly as it did. You introduced me to the most annoying people on Earth, and you were always serving wine and passing around those squares.”

  Granny looks small and docile. She doesn’t try to defend herself.

  “Maybe it would be best if I take Mother home,” Frank says. Eugenia grabs hold of his arm and stumbles away.

  The party breaks up shortly after. Everyone tells Fran they’re sorry. She doesn’t ask why.

  Fran, Ma, and I wash dishes. Fran’s glance makes its way down the hall, but the telephone doesn’t ring. “I’m going home,” she says at ten thirty.

  “See you in the morning,” Ma says as she stifles a yawn.

  Ma is frying bacon when Fran returns the next morning. “Want me to fix you a yummy breakfast?”

  “Thanks, Ellie, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Has he called yet?” Granny asks.

  Fran’s lip trembles. “I’m sure she’s playing the victim and manipulating him into calling off our wedding.”

  “If he does call it off, you’re better off without him. No one wants a mama’s boy, especially one with that mama.”

  I barely finish washing the breakfast dishes when Fran gets up and returns home. We don’t hear from her until the following afternoon.

  “It seems Frank was too busy to call me,” Fran says with a sniff.

  Ma gets up to make tea.

  Fran’s face bursts into a huge smile. “I can’t pretend any longer. Frank was busy getting rid of her.”

  “Quite the change of heart,” Granny says as she finds Fran’s favorite mug.

  “He managed to have her on the first plane out.”

  “What happened?” Ma asks as she sits across from Fran.

  “She played the victim, just as I said she would. She criticized everyone and then added that he shouldn’t marry me. He became angry. She gave him a choice. He could have her or me. He chose me.”

  “Thank God,” Granny says. “You two are a good fit.”

  “I’m happy the wedding is on, but it’s a shame that Frank and his mother won’t speak to one another.”

  Granny snorts. “If I was you, I’d be grateful that she’s gone. Don’t go carrying on about how a family should be close.”

  “She’s right,” Ma agrees. “You should only be close to people who make your life better.”

  “I know,” Fran says, “but still…”

  “Still nothing,” Granny snaps. “Remember, there are no britches like old britches, and they can be a pain in the butt.”

  “You mean the rain let up,” Fran says.

  When the laughter dies down, Fran turns to Granny. “Eugenia accused you of knowing about her allergy and constantly offering her squares with peanuts in them. She also said you set her up by sitting the most irritating people beside her.”

  “What a terrible thing to say,” Granny says without conviction.

  Ma looks at her mother. “Is it true?”

  “Eugenia told Doris she didn’t blame her husband for dying. She told Anne animals were only good for consumption. As for Sally, don’t you all agree? She’s a pleasant, wonderful person.” Granny’s massive hand smacks the table. “Eugenia doesn’t need someone to plot her ruination. She can do it on her own.”

  “What about the squares?” Fran asks.

  Granny throws up her hands in mock surrender. “It was a casual party, not a battleground. It was a dessert, not a grenade. I don’t know what’s wrong with that woman.”

  Mom and Fran let the matter drop. I never say anything to Granny, but I know it was more than a party, and I’m sure my aunt and mother do, too. Women don’t wear combat clothes into battle. Instead, they dress casually and serve squares. I don’t feel sorry for Eugenia. She got what she deserved, but no one can convince me that our living room didn’t contain one snake and one mongoose, because I watched every strike Granny inflicted, and I saw the mighty cobra fall.

  Chapter 39

  Fran and Frank fling tradition aside to celebrate their wedding in a burst of colour. Fran glows in a yellow chiffon pantsuit. The maxi top flows to her knees in a tangle of sunburst glory. Ma, her maid of honor, wears a similar pantsuit, but it’s baby blue and has a shorter top.

  “I’m so happy for you, Fran,” Ma says. “I know this love will last forever.”

  “Luckily, my jitters shook common sense into me. I couldn’t find a better man if I combed the earth looking for him.”

  “I don’t believe you could.” Ma’s eyes drift to Frank. He sports a navy-blue suit, a pale yellow shirt, and a blue-and-yellow tie. His green eyes twinkle, and his brown hair is pushed from his strong face.

  I get lost watching people watch others, and I jump when Frank leans over me. “Help me pin this Brown-eyed Susan to my lapel.”

  His hands shake, and I joke, “It looks like someone is nervous.”

  “No, I’m excited.” When I take the flower from his hands, he says, “I love boutonnieres because of what they signify.”

  The material of the suit is light, and the pin slides through effortlessly. I admire my handiwork. “What do they signify?”

  “They symbolize the fragility of life, the splendor of nature, and love, which is indefinable yet somehow captured i
n a single bloom. Fran and I took our flower from the same branch, because our love stems from one another.”

  “That’s so sweet.” I turn away before he sees how emotional I’ve become.

  The weather joins in the festivities with the sun glowing bright and a cloudless sky.

  “A good omen,” Granny says.

  “A blessing,” Ma concurs. “Especially since they’re having the wedding outdoors. Luckily, the tents will shield us from the sun rather than the rain.”

  Frank’s massive backyard is awash with colours. Red roses trail up lattices, and pink columbines and tangerine hollyhocks beckon hummingbirds to flit from flower to flower. Their wings sound like small engines. Granny tucked flower baskets of every colour imaginable in shady corners to lend brightness to the day.

  Rows of folding chairs look senseless until the ceremony draws near and everyone scrambles for a seat. The first note sounds. Chattering ceases as heads turn to see Granny walk Fran up the pea stone path toward the minister and her future husband.

  When they stand before us and vow to love one another forever, I feel like an intruder, since their eyes never leave one another, and the way Frank’s hand touches my aunt’s arm is so gentle and loving, I must look away. Fran and Frank appear to be in a faraway place that few ever find. Wonderment fills their eyes. When Frank says, “I can’t believe I found you,” a collective sigh fills the air.

  Granny holds her emotions close, but tender sentiments crush her resolve, and tears escape in uneven streams down her cheek. I hand her a tissue. “They’re tears of happiness,” she whispers.

  The sun shines brightly throughout the day. When it sets, Fran and Frank leave for their honeymoon.

  “This is so different from the first time,” Granny says with a sniff. “I’m happy to see her go.”

  Ma grabs hold of Granny’s arm. “She deserves this after what she went through.”