by Lizz Lund
$34.72 later we had the two – or four – pregnancy test kits in our clutches. My clutches, that is. Oddly, Bauser and Norman didn’t ask me about them. Which I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful about or not; they weren’t asking. But then, I wasn’t the potentially pregnant one. Sigh.
We got into the car.
“Where to now?” Bauser asked.
I gulped. I figured he wasn’t going to like this. “Umm… I need a few more, err… test kits,” I muttered.
“THAT’S COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE!” Norman shouted from the front, since I’d opted for the back with Jim, hoping for fewer questions as well as less Bauser/Norman contact.
“Sure! Your first pregnancy! You want to be sure before you start nailing the guy for a paternity suit!” Norman said, nodding. Ugh.
“How many tests were you thinking of?” Bauser asked. My head swam. I really wanted to explain the Ethel thing but also really didn’t want to rat on my maybe preggo sister.
I sighed and answered, “A dozen or so, I guess.”
“I know just the place!” Bauser shouted triumphantly. I wondered briefly how he knew this, then sidelined the thought. Why Bauser had this kind of information was not something I wanted to know.
A few minutes later, we were on Fruitville Pike and pulling into the Wagon Wheel Shopping Center. We shoved ourselves – collectively and individually – out of the car. Bauser started walking into the Bag o’ Bucks Store. Norman and Jim and I followed. A store clerk shouted at Jim in Spanish, and pointed toward the door. Jim pretended to herd me like a blind person and knocked me into a display of sunglasses. I put a pair on and made like Stevie Wonder.
Jim led us up to the counter and POP displays where, what to my wandering ‘blind’ eyes should appear, several hundred preggo kits for $1, my dear. I put $12 down and picked up 12 generic pregnancy tests.
At least Ethel would be relieved. Especially after she peed 16 times on 16 different kits.
CHAPTER 8
(Wednesday afternoon)
Bauser pulled up Mt. Driveway. We all got out and were greeted at the screen door by oil scented wafts and sizzling. I pulled on the door handle. It was locked. I shook my head and rang the bell to be let into my own home.
Vito greeted me holding an in-use Swiffer one hand, and my cordless phone in the other, while pressing one foot against Hansel to keep him from escaping. Hansel gnawed at the tassel of Vito’s loafer and growled in response.
“Sure, sure, sure. I gotcha, Mrs. K.,” Vito said, then hung up and opened the door for me. “Hey, Toots, I didn’t expect to see yous so soon. I was just cleaning up a little,” he said, blushing and coddling the Swiffer.
Bauser and Jim sniffed. “Wow, you cook for Mina, too?” Bauser asked. Vito clearly looked pleased, and I just didn’t have the heart. I was realizing that cooking in some circles might be an indiscriminate term. I guess some folks figure if they ate what used to be food, and survived, it was cooking.
“Only just lunches. On account of Mina’s so busy and all. And it gives me some practice,” Vito answered.
Bauser and Jim looked at me with accusing eyes. “Geez, do you live the life, or what? I’d kill to have someone clean and cook for me,” Bauser said. Jim sighed in agreement.
“Careful, kids,” Vito warned. “I used to know some peoples what did.”
“Hey, are these pot stickers?” Norman asked. Apparently the scent of Vito’s cooking and a tummy full of Krumpthy Marys carried Norman into the kitchen ahead of us. Well, at least we were spared seed hulls and fluff since Marie lived upstairs now.
“Are you kidding? These are homemade pierogies!” Vito ambled down the hall toward the kitchen with Hansel, Jim and Bauser trotting along behind him.
I wasn’t so sure about Vito and his pierogies, especially after the Johnny Mazerotti’s a la Vito Spaghetti. Also, I remembered eating store-bought pierogies from the frozen food section was a lot like eating mashed-potato stuffed raviolis. Except more revolting.
“But these don’t look like pierogies. They look like pot stickers. Their skin is so delicate,” Norman said, peering over the sizzling pan.
Vito rested his trusty Swiffer, picked up a spatula and inspected his creations. “That’s what real homemade pierogies look like,” he explained. “The dough takes forever. All the kneading, and the rolling. It’s really an art.”
“Wow, you did all that just this morning?” Bauser asked.
Vito shrugged. “Not really. I’m not exactly a dough person. And I didn’t have the time. So I stopped by the Chinese grocery store for dumpling wrapper dough. They’re the right kind of thin, and dough is dough.”
“Oh. So that explains why they look like pot stickers,” Norman nodded.
“What are they stuffed with?” Bauser asked, leaning over the pan and inhaling.
I leaned against the door jamb and wish I’d had the Krumpthfs at Bauser’s when I’d had the chance. And I also started to wonder when anyone would notice I had four large plastic grocery bags stuffed with pregnancy test kits. But Vito’s culinary instruction was just too weird not to pay attention to it.
“Traditionally, pierogies are stuffed with little morsels of leftovers,” Vito explained. “Sliced mushrooms, maybe mashed potato and cheese, or sauerkraut. The idea is like mini-casseroles made from leftovers.”
Leftovers. Huh. That would assume one ate, and cooked, food at home. And didn’t eat all of it. Or let it grow fuzz. Go figure.
“I like to put my own spin on things,” Vito continued to his attentive pupils – all two-legged, three-legged and four-legged varieties. “But I also feel sensitive about keeping with tradition,” he added. Bauser and Norman nodded. “So I use non-traditional leftovers, in the leftover tradition, of course. I made use of our party leftovers from the other night: pizza, olives, pepperoni, cheeses and relish.”
“Relish?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t but I had to. I didn’t remember relish from the Mediterranean feast.
“You had it in the fridge,” Vito answered.
My relish. My fridge. Let’s see… I bought the house about a year ago. I think that’s when I remembered buying relish.
Bauser and Norman did all but sit pretty and wag their tails for their share of the putrid pierogies. Speaking of, I hoped that it wasn’t Vito’s pierogies that poisoned his sainted Marie. I suddenly felt like lying down next to Ethel. “And I even made some dessert pierogies,” he said brightly.
“Dessert pierogies?” I asked. I couldn’t help it. It just fell out of my mouth. Like I expected the pierogies and their contents soon would.
“Leftover jelly doughnut fillings!” Vito beamed.
Bauser and Norman looked impressed. And hungry. Which could only mean that Krumpthfs has a lot more alcohol content than is published on their label.
“You wanna try some?”
Jim barked. Hansel tried to sit pretty – but his belly was too big and he wobbled over instead. “Hey, we got plenty. I was just fixing some more for Ethel,” Vito went on.
“More?” I asked.
“Yeah. After I dropped you off, I came back here, of course. Your sister didn’t look too good. I figured she could use something solid in her tummy.”
I wondered if a bambino counted.
“She ate this?” I asked. Vito and Bauser and Norman snapped a look at me like I’d coughed up a hair ball on their dinner plates. “I mean, she was so ill when I left for work I just figured she wouldn’t want anything else to eat,” I tried. Vito relaxed. Bauser and Norman relaxed more: Vito shuffled some pierogies onto plates for them.
“Sure. When your tummy’s empty like that, it can make you feel very nauseated,” Vito replied sagely. “So I figured a good, hot nosh was just what she needed. And it worked. She’s up and perky and made your bed with clean sheets, and now she’s taking a shower,” he said. “But now Ike’s down with it. Must be some kind of 24-hour flu thing.”
“Ike’s sick?” I asked
.
“Well, he hasn’t actually been sick, but he said he feels like he could. So I figured I’d fry him up some pierogies and get his insides on the mend, too.”
I looked around. “Where is he?”
“He went upstairs to lie down with Ethel. In your room,” Vito said. Well, that was just peachy. How was I going to surreptitiously hand Ethel 16 pregnancy test kits in front of Ike’s prone body? I sighed.
“Whatcha got in the bags? You go shopping?” Vito asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said brightly.
“Ohhh, yeah, right,” Vito added. “Now I remember. Your personal shopping.” He winked. Then he leaned toward me and whispered, “You need more money? You have enough?”
Bauser and Norman stared open-mouthed.
“Uh, yeah, thanks. I’m covered, Vito.”
“Geez,” Bauser exhaled. “And he gives you an allowance?”
Norman said, “Some people have all the luck.”
I shook my head and stashed Ethel’s stash in the hall closet.
Back in the kitchen, Vito, Bauser and Norman standing around and nibbling pierogies. Just my luck I’d get a lunchtime kitchen party. A collar tag tinkled against a bowl. I looked down to see Hansel, Gretel and Vinnie gnawing on pierogies too. I pursed my lips and hoped that Vinnie’s share wasn’t stuffed with pepperoni.
“Here, Mina, I made a few for you,” Vito said, handing me a plate with three crescent-shaped pot sticker pierogies. I sighed. There was absolutely no polite way to get out of this now.
I faked a smile and prayed I hadn’t won the relic relish pierogies. I cut one in half with my fork, edging toward the sink. Maybe I could pretend to slip and hurl it in there? Or fake an epileptic fit? Or just drop it near Hansel? He had to be good for something. Besides, with his girth he could do with a little food poisoning.
I looked down at my plate, and saw a small rivulet of jam ooze out. Oh. Okay. This must be the jelly donut pierogies. I nibbled. Gift wrapped sautéed jelly donuts wasn’t so bad.
“See? Not bad, huh?” Vito grinned. “Those ones I like to think are reminiscent of bite-size mini blintzes.”
I swallowed. Nothing happened, so while Vito kept staring at me I figured I should pretend to keep on going. At least until he looked away.
Ethel wandered into the pierogie party. “Good morning!” she sang.
Norman and Bauser grunted and chewed.
“Hey, look at you. You look like you’re on the mend,” Vito said, patting Ethel on her shoulder. Ethel smiled back at him. I furrowed. I hadn’t really expected Vito to adopt Ethel, too.
“Yep. Completely cured. You were right, Vito,” Ethel said, helping herself to a glass and my fridge and pouring some milk.
“Is that my milk?” I asked. Only because the last time I remembered buying milk was about when I’d bought the relish.
“You were out. And Mrs. Rivera had extra, on account of she was supposed to have her daughter’s twins visiting her, but they got sick with ear infections,” Vito explained.
“Mrs. Rivera?”
“The end unit up for sale on Daisy Petal Court. She just settled last week,” he explained.
I wondered how Vito got this much information, and simultaneously willed myself not to ask. Some things are better kept under wraps. Like my relish should have been.
“Anyway, once I got a little something in my tummy, I felt lots better, just like Vito said,” Ethel beamed. In fact, she was positively glowing. Uh oh.
Vito blushed. “Aww gee, don’t mention it,” he said, and went back to sautéing. Ethel leaned over to watch.
“I especially liked the pickle ones,” she said hopefully.
I pushed the remaining pierogies around on my plate.
“Those were actually relish,” Vito explained. “But Mina only had a little. I used it up,” he apologized. I exhaled in relief. At least my family and friends would only be a little poisoned.
“Oh, okay. They were all good,” Ethel said.
“Thanks.”
“I was going to bring some up for Ikey. He doesn’t look so good,” she said.
“Sure, sure, sure. Coming right up, Cookie.” Vito stared down at the board at the pot sticker pierogie dough. “But I think I’m running out of stuffings. Hey, Mina’s the real gourmet around here. Can you think of anything?” he asked me.
“Toothpaste?” I suggested. Ethel scowled and opened a cabinet. I shrugged.
“Here, use this, Vito,” she offered happily, presenting Vito with a can of refried beans. Huh. I didn’t remember buying those. Ever. Maybe it came with the house?
“Hey, that’ll work! We’ll just add a little processed cheese on top and ole!” Vito grinned. Oh boy. I actually started to feel sorry for Ike. And my plumbing.
Vito started opening the fossilized can and began concocting away.
Bauser stared into my fridge. “Got any Krumpthfs?” he asked.
“Nope. Sorry,” I said.
“Bloodies?” Norman asked.
“Sorry. I used the last of my tomato juice trying to wash Flower off of me,” I apologized.
“Hey, ya know what would go good with this kind of a brunch?” Vito offered. I saw what was coming and silently wished I could put my hands and feet simultaneously over Bauser, Norman’s and Ethel’s mouths.
“What?” they asked.
“Hawaiian Orchids,” Vito said.
We looked at him blankly. He shook his head and threw the rest of the Mexican pierogies into the pan, handed Bauser the spatula and decorated him ceremoniously by draping the dishtowel over his shoulder. Bauser nodded at the responsibility bestowed upon him and stood vigil over the stove. “I’ll be right back,” Vito said, and slipped his girth out the door. For a tubby guy, he could actually be pretty nimble when he wanted to be. And invisible. Well, at least the Moils had given him some legitimate skills.
After Vito had gone, Ethel said to me, “Oh, by the way, your boss called you.”
“You talked to my boss?” I asked.
“No, I just listened. He called while I was putting your sheets in the dryer, and the machine picked up,” she explained.
“Vito didn’t answer?” I was incredulous. Vito always answered my phone. Even when I’m here.
Ethel shook her head. “He went out to pick up some milk for me when I went into the shower,” she said. “By the way, I think you’re out of shower gel.” Well, that was probably true. I had used up most of my bathroom products and some of my kitchen products trying to de-skunkify myself the other morning. “And your shaver could use a new razor. And you need shaving gel. And cream rinse. And don’t you use anything besides dandruff shampoo?” A sharp pinching sensation started inside my shoulder. I gave Ethel a look to match. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot about pinched nerve thing,” she said. “Haven’t you seen a doctor about it?”
“Yeah, last winter,” I said.
“Didn’t he give you anything?”
“She. And yeah. A couple of creams.”
“Didn’t you use them?”
“Yeah. Sort of. I went back in for a re-check and she asked me about them.”
“What did you say?”
“I said they made my skin itch and burn a lot.”
“Eech. What did she say?”
“She asked if the itching and burning was unbearable.”
“What did you say?”
I shrugged. “I guessed no. I mean, unbearable has to be pretty bad, right?”
Ethel pursed her lips. “I’m no doctor. But I’m guessing something that’s supposed make you feel better shouldn’t itch or burn. You’re not still using them, are you?”
I shook my head.
We listened to sizzling and watched Bauser domestically flip the beaner pierogies.
“Maybe you should see a homeopath,” Norman piped up.
“She’s friends with K.,” Bauser huffed.
Norman sighed. “A homeopath. Not a homo.”
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“Oh.”
I shook my head and stopped. A sharp crick in my shoulder shot down my arm and straight into my fingers. Youch. I wondered if this kind of pain would be considered unbearable. I mean, is unbearable like completely distracting, or can you still grocery shop but just be a bit grouchier standing in line? Besides, what was the alternative to unbearable? Drop dead?
“Anyway, why was How-weird calling Mina at home?” Bauser asked.
Ethel winced. “Umm… it’s not real good. And he’s mean,” she said.
“Why do you say that?” I asked out of habit rather than any real reason. After all, he’s my boss. Isn’t mean a part of every boss’ job description? Except for Ethel’s boss, who’s really more like her fairy godfather. Ethel’s boss Ralph let her work from home the first week they adopted the Ratties and apologized for not being able to swing the time as FML instead of re-paid comp time.
“It kind of sounded like Howard fired you.”
Bauser got caught in mid-flip and flopped a pierogie on the floor. Vinnie, Hansel and Gretel immediately surrounded the renegade pierogie, sniffed, and burnt their respective noses. They licked their chops, and sat around the steaming beaner in wait.
“Oh crap,” Norman said. But not about the pierogie.
The pinch in my shoulder tightened in the opposite direction, pulling a nerve in my butt that throbbed all the way down from my neck to my heel. A quintessential tension headache was brewing. I tried to take a deep, cleansing breath and hiccupped instead.
“Okay, HIC, why do you think HIC-oward fired me?”
“Because he ended the message by saying ‘YOU’RE FIRED’.”
I sighed and started to go upstairs to listen to How-weird’s apoplectic missive. Maybe Ethel misheard? After all, she could be preggers. Don’t hormones affect your hearing? On the other hand, if it would scare my hiccups away then Howard’s message might actually be useful.
“Mina, you might not want to listen to that alone,” Ethel tried.
“HIC?”
“He was pretty mean. Even if all the things he said you didn’t do aren’t true. It didn’t sound like he was just venting.” I nodded and hiccupped upstairs.