“You brought it up!” Euly’s voice echoed off the window and bounced back at both women. They could hear the rustle of usual noises in the hall of the building die down.
“Try to keep your voice down. Seriously, Euly, show some decorum.”
“Fine. Fine.” Euly searched for something to say but was angry and frustrated by her mother’s retreat and refusal to speak. She picked up her purse and found a tissue and wiped the oil from her nose when she folded the tissue back into her purse she found a packet of gum.
“Gum?”
Her mother nodded.
Euly handed Belle a stick of gum. Belle took off the gum’s wrapper and Euly offered her hand to take it and throw it away. They both sat quietly and chewed. With her hands on the photo album, Belle watched Euly who was still fumbling and zipping up a compartment inside her purse. After she was done she latched the purse and set it next to the chair beside her. She looked at her mother and sighed.
“You know, mother. Micaiah was like a brother to me.”
“I won’t do this, Euly.” Belle looked away and out the window.
“When he died, I was crushed. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember. He was only fourteen. How can I not remember?” Belle frowned at Euly.
“It was awful.”
Belle’s chin began to quiver and she anxiously searched the tray for something to wipe her nose. Euly pulled out more tissue and handed it to her mother.
“Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you leave it alone? I won’t talk about it. Not with you or anyone else! Drop it, Euly.”
“This is so unfair, mother. You drop this bomb and then tell me you won’t talk about it?” She gave her mother a moment to respond. “Mother if Micaiah was my brother,” Belle rolled her eyes away, “then I have every right to know about it!” Once again, Euly’s voice arced. But, before Belle could reprimand her, Euly spoke.
“Don’t tell me to keep my voice down. I’m an adult now. Are you going to explain about Micaiah, or not?”
Belle looked stiff and lifted her chin. “Not.”
“Then, I’ll have to find out on my own, I guess.”
“Euly, no.”
“I decided last night that if you weren’t truthful with me today, I’d just have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Euly…”
“I’m leaving for Phoenix on Friday. You have two days to think about it, to come clean.”
As she spoke, Euly picked up her purse and stood. “I’m fifty, mother. Do you think that’s old enough to deal with the truth?”
“Do you think I’m old enough to deal with the truth?”
Belle always had a way of pulling rank on Euly.
But, Euly had enough.
“Don’t correct me, mother. We’re not in school.” Euly walked to the door but stopped. “So, what is it? Shall I stay?”
Her mother opened her mouth to speak but stopped short, then turned her head casually back to the photos and began flipping through them.
“God, mother, you’re infuriating!” She grumbled and walked out.
CHAPTER TEN
The sizzling garlic pattered like one million army ants tramping across a forest floor and echoed through the kitchen drifting lightly into the den where Geoff watched golf on the television.
Euly’s mind replayed the conversation with her mother as she chopped with a heavy chef’s knife. She conducted a silent quarrel with herself under her breath after quartering an onion and slicing it into halves, and cubing those crosswise into inch-sized pieces. She then began cutting the smaller pieces into even smaller pieces until she’d diced the onion. As she continued to cut in fast hard strokes, chopping the onion into a mince, its peppery fumes hit her in the nose and her tear ducts and sinuses let loose.
She tried to wipe her eyes on her sleeve near her shoulder and sniffed loudly but continued to chop through it all. As her speed quickened in a race to finish, she nicked her finger with the knife’s sharp blade.
She grumbled out. “Dammit!” And dropped the knife onto the counter, flipped on the faucet, and grabbed a paper towel to hold to her wounded finger.
“Are you okay, honey?” Geoff asked without turning his head from the TV.
“I cut myself.”
“Again?”
“Don’t.” Euly wasn’t joking but Geoff couldn’t tell. His attention was split between Tiger Woods and her. Euly heard Geoff giggle under the drone of a gallery clapping softly and commentators as they gave a blow-by-blow in their typical mundane hushed voice. Euly wasn’t amused and headed past him to the laundry room where they kept a first-aid kit.
“Again, get it?” Euly walked by ignoring Geoff. “Are you okay?”
Euly refused to answer him and thrashed about through the room slamming cupboard doors and setting the kit noisily onto the counter.
“I asked… are… you… okay?”
Euly came out with a bandage on her finger and bruised feelings.
“Why do you want to know? All you do is sit there on your butt, watch TV, and eat.”
“Here we go.”
“Here we go?” Euly nearly gagged trying to keep from saying what she wanted to say. “Forget it. Your dinner will be ready soon.” She stomped back into the kitchen. She wondered if Geoff felt her anger scudding through the airwaves.
“You know, honey, that’s not all I care about. I love,” he paused and then continued to tease her, “I love Jonathan.” His tricks wouldn’t work on her tonight, even when it involved the dog. His voice was happy but Euly wasn’t in the mood for happy.
“You know what Geoff?” She stalled before saying what she wanted, to insult him, to hurt him, instead she said what was really on her mind, “I’m leaving.”
“Geez, Euly. I’m only kidding.” He turned around and stared limp-faced.
“Well, I’m not.” Geoff rose from the couch. “I need to get away. I’m leaving for Phoenix this Friday.”
“What? Good God, Euly. Where did this come from?”
She turned back to her cooking and scraped the onion into the sauté mixture with her knife. As she wiped her hands on her apron, Geoff came over and sat at the bar.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, and that’s exactly why I have to leave.”
“What are you talking about? How much is this going to cost us?”
“Christ, Geoff. I’m making money too, remember?” She shook her head and turned away from him, pulled the stems off of three tomatoes and rinsed them trying to avoid water hitting her bandage. “Anyway, your stores make great money. God, Geoff! We have a retirement fund that’s ready to split at the seams and I can’t take a little time to myself? Why do I always have to justify leaving and you just do whatever the hell you want. Go on golf trips, ski trips, all that shit’s okay, but me I have to leave and you give me the third-degree. Why the double-standard?”
“Why do you have to go?” His attention was diverted away from golf and entirely on his wife. “What?”
“You said you have to go, why?”
“I just do. I have to get away.”
“From me?”
“Why does everything have to be about you?” She jutted out her chin daring him to answer.
“Well is it about me? Do I have something to worry about?”
“It’s not about you. It’s about me.”
“Okay, so what about you is this about?”
“Good grief. That is the worst sentence.”
“Come on. You know what I mean.” She refused to engage him further. Euly paused and looked down at the tomatoes she’d been slicing. The sloppy juice ran everywhere and was spilling into the ruts of the cutting board. They were too ripe to put into a salad so she slipped them into the sauté along with the garlic and onions. Within seconds she decided they’d have a red sauce over some pasta, angel hair. The garlic and onion weakened under the heat with an added transparent quality letting her know it was time to season, add th
e tomatoes and red wine. After sprinkling coarse salt she ground in fresh pepper then stirred. She worked with her injured finger up and unavailable as she cubed more tomatoes for the sauce. Their perfume mesmerized her and she stole one cube and ate it. Its familiar sappy acid slid down her throat and nearly choked her. Grabbing the bottle of cabernet, she pulled the cork out by her teeth. The popping made her worry if she’d bruised the juice. She poured a glass for herself first then Geoff and then added some into the sauté pan. She stirred and watched the mixture bubble. As she worked, she seemed to go inside herself as she stirred. She acted as though she’d forgotten Geoff was even there.
“Euly? What’s going on?” The softness in his voice made her take in a deep breath. She wondered if she’d been breathing at all. “Euly. You have to talk to me.” He’d gone one fraction too far with the demand.
“I don’t have to do anything of the sort. I’m leaving for a few days, maybe a week. You can go to see your family when you want to and I can see mine.”
“You’re leaving your mother?”
Euly turned to Geoff. She still held the knife and used it to emphasize her point. Geoff watched it as she conducted a silent symphony about her mother.
“My mother will be fine alone. She likes it that way. Anyway, don’t try to make me feel guilty. I’m not guilty about her or leaving here or anything, okay? I have to go and I will. The end.” She swung the knife back. She set it down with a thud against the counter and began tearing up thick leaves of romaine and dropped each bunch elegantly into the deep cherry colored salad bowl. Geoff watched silently. Peripherally, she could see he was still staring at her. Then, she slammed both hands onto the counter. “Dammit. I don’t have to give you a reason.”
“So, I’m just supposed to accept that you’re leaving because you have to in this fit of anger. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t hear the selfishness in that?” Euly faced him and walked directly to the opposite side of the bar across from him.
“Look, Geoff. You never seem to give me the opportunity to object to you running off and being with the guys whenever you feel like it. I’d appreciate the same treatment. If you don’t mind.”
“Well, I do mind, Euly. Are you seeing your ex?”
The thought nearly knocked her down. She hadn’t thought of her ex-husband in years nor did she have any feelings for him. Then, the insult of the comment set in.
“Oh. Good grief. Of course, this must be about your manhood, right? Why else would I leave? No. I’m not going off to see the man whom I divorced nor am I having some illicit affair with anyone else. I’m going. I can’t tell you why all I know is that I have to go. When I find what I’m looking for, you’ll be the first to know. How’s that?”
Their fight was escalating. She could feel it spinning out of control. She wanted a drink – a good stiff shot of scotch. She stood there leaning into the counter at her husband and stopped for fear the fight would wrangle them into something irreparable.
“I’m getting a drink. You want one?”
“Boy, do I.” He breathed out heavily and she walked out of the kitchen through the closed set of French doors and into the dining room. The air felt crisp on her hot face. They closed off that room once the weather turned bad but all she wanted to do right now was to walk outside in the dark and cold of the frosty night. Alone.
She opened the liquor cabinet and felt a pang of guilt knife at her gut. She was resorting to an alcoholic beverage to calm her nerves, to make her feel better. She wondered about the old stigma of writers and drinking. While she poured two shots into the crystal glasses, she thought about the stereotypical alcoholic writers of the past, Hemingway, Poe – her heroes. She slammed her drink in a quick flip of the head backward then refilled her glass. Hemingway would be proud. She felt her mood lighten almost immediately.
When she returned with two glasses full, Geoff had turned his attention to golf again but remained on the stool where she’d left him.
“Here.” She set his drink in front of him. “Want ice.”
“Sure. Look, Euly, whatever it is you feel you need to do, do it. I won’t ask any more questions. I love you. Do you understand me?”
Euly nodded that she did and raised her glass up for a silent toast. She sipped and went to the freezer for the ice. Geoff turned his attention back to the television.
“Honey, did you see that shot? Man-o-man, he’s amazing. Did I tell you about the odds on Tiger?” After that, his voice faded out of her ears and her mind wandered. She stopped making dinner and took her drink into the living room where there was no TV, no talk of golf, no husband just quiet, she longed for quiet. Outside, a rustling wind from fall exiting and winter making its entrance thumped against the window panes. The final call of birds in the early evening meant the season was leaving. She left the lights off and walked soberly to their leather sofa, the sofa she had bought on a whim for Geoff because she imagined them lying naked on it making love but they never did and she wondered if, after six years of marriage, they ever would.
* * *
“Jill make sure everyone knows I’ll be unavailable for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. I have to go, you know.” Euly’s voice, filled with trepidation, rung palpable.
Euly knew her assistant would make sure to tell everyone at the paper that Euly would be unavailable. She bid her to have fun and good luck as if going to a Club Med, as if luck was a good thing.
Geoff yelled to her where he stood by the door on the first floor for her hurry and something about missing the plane and visiting her mother too. Euly shook her head and ended the phone conversation. After she hung up she worried if she might have a job when she got back. Writing jobs were few and far between. It was a Russia of economies for writers. There were writers standing in line for work. Writing obituaries wasn’t glamorous but at least she made money from them, and she needed her money, her independence.
“I’ll be right there.”
“You’re not going to have a lot of time with your mother if we don’t leave soon.”
Geoff had a habit of rushing Euly that simply infuriated her.
“Two minutes isn’t going to make or break our visit.” She’d neglected to tell Geoff about the heated conversation with her mother the day before.
“I’ll go start the car.”
Euly ran into the bathroom. She needed to empty her bladder one more time before they left the house, she needed to put on lipstick, and more than anything she needed to take two aspirin. She raced from the toilet zipping her pants and stretching out her neck by tipping it far left then right again. She rubbed the muscles on top of her shoulders and ran cold water. The muscles refused to loosen and she decided rubbing her jaw muscle might work better, but she had no time for it and gave up the notion, opened the medicine cabinet, popped two pills and stuck her hand under the faucet where she pooled water in her palm to drink. After dabbing her mouth, she found her lipstick, slicked it over her lips, and stuck it into her right pant pocket.
She was ready. She raced down the stairs, threw on the coat, the one Geoff had hung out on the end of the banister for her and walked out of the house. As she lifted her leg into Geoff’s truck, she was still organizing her thoughts. “Did you get my bag?”
“It’s in the back.”
“My purse too?”
“Everything in the back.”
She closed the door and latched her seat belt and Geoff cruised down the circular drive toward its end.
“Wait!” Euly screamed. Geoff rolled his eyes and depressed the brakes.
“What did you forget?”
“Stay here. I’ll be back in a sec.” She unlatched her seat belt and jumped out of the truck. She left the door open to make getting back in easier for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At her desk, she found the recorder. She stuffed it into her coat pocket and walked over to Jonathan who was lying on the back of the couch watching her. She patted his back and ki
ssed his forehead.
“Mommy will be back soon.” She raced back out to where she’d left Geoff idling. The radio newsman talked about Bush sending more troops into Basra.
“That was rude.”
“What was rude? I forgot something.” Euly didn’t like the way he tried to get her to respond to his off-hand remark. She rolled her eyes when she turned to re-latch the seatbelt.
“Leaving the door open. It’s cold, you know.”
“Sorry.” She spoke quietly and quickly.
“What did you forget?” He put the car back into gear and pulled to the end of the drive.
“I wanted to say goodbye to Jonathan.” She looked out the window.
“You left me in the cold to say goodbye to the dog?”
“Sorry.” She wouldn’t speak anymore, she resolved to herself. It was better they didn’t talk when Geoff was in a mood.
“We’ll be lucky if we can see your mother for five minutes.” His comments added to the tightening sensation she felt in her throat and she pinched two fingers behind her head and began to massage as they drove away from the house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Geoff? Will you be a dear and get us all some coffee from the cafeteria?”
“Sure Belle but we have to leave shortly.” He raised his eyebrows and stared strongly at Euly.
She turned to her mother who was staring at her.
“I wish you wouldn’t go.”
“That makes two of you.”
“What do you want from me, Euly? Haven’t I been a good mother?” Euly bit at her thumbnail. “Get your fingers out of your mouth. You’re not twelve.” Belle sighed and folded her arms over her chest with disapproval. She was wearing her pajamas still not normal for her mother who always made sure she was ‘up and at ‘em’ before the break of dawn. It was nearly ten in the morning.
“Aren’t you feeling well this morning, mother?”
“I feel fine. Why should you care about my feelings?” Belle had a knack for changing the meanings of things.
“Mother. You still have a chance to come clean.”
The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) Page 4