by Bryan Fields
Rose came in and took the bacon to the table while I finished the eggs. I put Thirteen’s plate on the floor, but he walked past it and hopped up on the table. He glanced down at the plate and gave me an Oh, please look. I set the plate on the table.
If that weren’t enough, he patted Rose’s coffee cup and cocked his head at me. Why not? Coffee for everyone. He spooned sugar into it, grasped the cup handle, and lifted it up enough to lap up the contents.
I watched him for a few seconds before it occurred to me that Mom would love to see that. The idea crystallized into resolve. “Rose, I’d like to invite everyone over here to do the cookies today. Mom’s kitchen is just too small and they only have one oven.”
“I don’t mind,” Rose said. “Does your sister get to call me a whore again?”
“Not if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s allergic to cats.”
Rose smiled. “I’d love to see them. Thirteen, please make David’s sister feel warm and welcome.”
The cat took a piece of bacon out of Rose’s pile and nodded to her. “Mrow” was all he said, but to me it sounded a lot like, “You got it”.
Mom loved the idea. “Audrey and I were about to go to the store for the ingredients. We’ll come over as soon as we’re finished. You should start your ovens warming up.”
“Is Dad coming?”
“No,” Mom said. “He’s going out to look at motor homes.”
I had a sudden urge to punch my father out. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. I didn’t say anything, but Mom heard the catch in my breath.
“David, he’s coping in his own way. I accept it. You should too.”
I sighed. “All right, I’ll try.”
“There is no try, young man. You’ll do it. For me.” She paused to let the words sink in. “We need to be going. Call me if you think of anything you want us to pick up.”
I hung up the phone, shaking my head. She’d been using the imperative form on me since long before I knew there were Dragons in the world. I guess they teach it in Mommy School.
Mom arrived in a flurry of kisses and a small cloud of powdered sugar escaping from a torn bag. Audrey was dressed for a mess, but her exhibition of filial piety would have done the Domina of a noble Roman family proud. Mom pulled me aside and said, “Audrey, take everything in to the kitchen. I need to speak with David.”
Audrey nodded and carried the grocery bags off. I held up a finger and waited. The bags thumped on the floor and Audrey called out, “God…bless it, when did you get a cat? I didn’t bring any allergy pills!”
“There are some in my purse,” Mom replied. She handed me an envelope and said, “Take a minute and read this. I don’t know what it says. I’m going to go meet your cat.” I waited for her to go into the kitchen before looking at the envelope. It was addressed to me, in my dad’s handwriting. I pulled the letter out and started reading.
David,
It’s long past time this came to you. You’ll be the man of the family soon enough and it’s yours by right. It came from my grandfather. Keep it safe, and keep buggering on.
Dad.
There was also a folded sheet of rag paper containing a shortbread recipe, dated 1896. On the back of the page, someone had translated the measurements and rewritten the recipe into a more usable format. It was dated 1940 and had my grandfather’s initials at the bottom. I blinked my eyes until I could see again and went up to my office to scan and reprint the pages.
When I got back downstairs, Mom was directing Audrey in setting up the mise en place for sugar cookies while Rose tended the stove, rendering a skillet full of diced bacon.
Without looking directly at Rose, Audrey announced, “Chocolate chip cookies are perfectly good as they are. I can’t see what’s to be gained by adding bacon to them.”
“Flavor and crunch,” Rose said. “Plus, there’s the bourbon.”
“The bourbon will cook out,” Audrey said. “It’s only supposed to be for a bit of flavor.”
“I was talking about the rest of the bottle,” Rose replied. She measured out twice what the recipe called for into a juice glass and set it aside. She poured two shot glasses and handed one to Mom. “Boat drinks, Gypsy.”
Mom saluted Rose with the shot glass. “Boat drinks.” She tossed it back, triggering a spasm of coughing. She waved everyone away, holding a tissue to her mouth, until the spasm stopped. Once she could breathe again, she turned up the flow of her oxygen for a minute and sat still with her eyes closed. “Oh, that hit the spot, but that’s about all I can take. We’ll see if I’m up for another when we’re done.”
“Mom, don’t you dare.” Audrey turned to Rose, wagging her finger. “The last thing my mother needs is you encouraging her.”
“The last thing I need is someone presuming to know what I need.” Mom said. “One or two drinks won’t kill me. That’s what the lung cancer is for.” She cut off any further discussion by turning on the mixer to start creaming the first batch of butter and sugar. I started working over some more butter in the food processor.
It amazes me how the same four basic ingredients—butter, sugar, eggs, flour—can produce such a spectrum of results. Rolled sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies crosshatched by dinner forks, Russian tea cakes rolled in powdered sugar, chocolate chip. Rose’s bacon-chocolate cookies. My shortbread. Mom’s rum balls, dripping with Bacardi 151. Audrey’s crescent-shaped, almond paste-filled gazelle horns. She refuses to admit they’re an Arabic pastry, preferring to describe them as from the Holy Land. Groceries rolled in, cookies by the dozens rolled out.
It’s near-impossible to keep an argument or fight going in a house filled with the scent of baking cookies. As the cookie trays came out of the ovens and the cooling racks filled with delectable morsels of goodness, Audrey and I stopped snarking at each other and began talking—something we haven’t done in around six years.
Audrey talked about her new job as coordinator for the daycare at her church, and I didn’t give her any grief about brainwashing kids. “I miss telling the kiddos about Jesus, but the program really needed a good accountant. God gave me a gift for numbers, so I thought this would be the best place I could serve.”
Rose nodded. “That’s why I ran for the HOA board. Profit is…in my blood.”
“It’s not just profit and loss statements that are keeping her at work late,” Mom said. “I hear Steve Harris has been helping with those license and registrations forms.”
Audrey blushed and giggled. “Yes, he has. No one knows what the Lord has planned, but I have a few desires I’d like to see realized.” She and Mom laughed, which made me smile. It’s been a long time since I heard either of them laugh over anything.
Thirteen came back into the kitchen from wherever he’d been hiding and hopped up on the kitchen table. He stayed well back from the containers full of cookies, nosing at his empty coffee cup and staring at me as though I owed him money.
I stood up. “Coffee, anyone?” I didn’t need to ask—coffee was a sacred part of the Cookie Day tradition. I broke into a new bag of Hawaiian Kona and brewed up five cups.
Rose came back to the table with cream and whiskey, asking, “Who wants theirs Irish?” Audrey declined, Mom went for half a shot, and Thirteen pushed his cup forward.
Audrey shook her head as Rose poured Thirteen’s cup and placed it in front of him. “You let the cat drink coffee? At the table?”
“Of course we do,” I said. “He can’t very well walk up to our local barista and order a double latte.”
“You know what I mean.” Audrey said. “He’s a cat. He looks really cute in the cowboy hat and someone taught him some nice tricks, but he’s still an animal.”
I shrugged. “Cat’s got personality. Personality goes a long way. Besides, he has great table manners. Just watch.”
Right on cue, Thirteen grasped the handle of his coffee cup and held it up to drink out of. He lapped at it a few times and set the cup down. He pushed the cup toward me and
held his paw, two digits slightly separated from the others.
“Two sugar?”
“Rowr.” Thirteen nodded, just to make certain I understood.
“You got it.” I stirred the sugar into his coffee and handed it back. He lapped at it and gave me a nod before downing half of the cup.
“How is he doing that?” Audrey asked. She leaned forward, looking at Thirteen’s paws. “Oh, my blessed Lord! He has thumbs! Hands!” She jumped up from the table and stepped back until she hit the wall. Holding her hands up next to her face, she started moving sideways to get farther away from the cat. “How in God’s name did that happen?”
“Evolution by a process of natural selection?” Mom said. “I hate to tell you this, daughter-of-mine, but what you’re looking at is Darwin’s theory in action. He could turn out to be the link between felis domesticus and felis sapiens.”
“He has hands…” Audrey watched Thirteen finish off his coffee and set the cup down, licking his whiskers. “How do you know that’s a natural mutation? He could be some government experiment God had nothing to do with. In fact, I bet that’s what he is.”
“I’d ask, but I don’t speak cat,” I said. “Hard to hold a conversation that way.”
Audrey wasn’t distracted. “It wouldn’t matter. A cat is one of God’s creatures. That thing is an abomination. I’ve seen the news. They can make mice grow human organs now—making a cat with hands is nothing.”
Mom reached out to pet Thirteen. “Don’t be silly, Audrey. He’s just a cat with some extra toes. It happens. The world is full of strange and unusual things. I’m glad I got to see this one before I die.”
“You can’t always trust what you see, Mom. Remember that whole light show at Sharon’s funeral?” Audrey waved her hand, shooing the memory away. “It was pretty, but it was just computer animation and special effects.”
Mom said, “Audrey, what we saw at Sharon’s funeral was someplace real. It might not have been paradise, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I’m very much hoping to see someplace at least as wonderful when my time comes.”
“Don’t talk about that,” Audrey said. “It’s bad enough you won’t let our prayer group help you.” She turned to me and added, “And why haven’t I ever heard you offering to get your Pagan buddies together to do some sort of ritual to help heal her? You could at least do that.”
“I can, and I would, except that she hasn’t asked me to do so or given me permission to do it.” I looked at Mom for a moment and shook my head before turning back to Audrey. “I did offer, right after we got the diagnosis, and she refused. There are national networks of people I could ask to send energy, but not without the knowledge and consent of the subject.”
“I appreciate that.” Mom pulled Audrey close, hugging her tight. “Audrey-bear, stop trying to fix things that can’t be fixed. Please, please, just enjoy the time we have, while we have it.”
Audrey nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Mom patted her on the back and let her go. “Now, let’s get cleaned up. All paws on deck!”
She meant it, too. Thirteen could sit on the counter and reach the hooks on the bottom of the cabinet that hold our coffee cups, so she passed the dried ones to him and let him hang them up. In no time at all, the kitchen was spotless and everything was put away except the boxes of cookies.
Audrey took Rose aside and said, “I wasn’t very Christian to you when we first met, and I need to apologize for that. I especially wanted to apologize for saying what I did. If you can forgive me, I promise to be a better Christian from now on.”
Rose gave her a nod. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m happy to accept, but I can’t judge if you’re a good Christian or a bad one. That’s for your Christ to do.”
“Well, he’s everybody’s Christ, but I know what you mean.” Audrey half-shrugged and added, “How about I try to be a better person?”
“That works for me,” Rose said. “It’s something every Human should aspire to.”
“That’s true enough. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Audrey gave Rose a quick hug. “Thanks for understanding.”
I brought Mom her coat and picked up her share of the cookies. “Unlock your car and I’ll carry these out for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” Mom said. “Hurry back. There’s something I want to give you.”
Audrey carried hers out as well and stayed outside to warm the car up. When I got back inside, Mom pulled a plastic DVD case out of her purse.
“This is part of my will and I expect you to honor it as such.” She opened the case and pressed her lips to the blank label on the disk, leaving a nice, clean lipstick print. She closed the case and handed it to me. “This is for my granddaughter. I hope Manya won’t have any problem with that?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll take care of it.” I looked at the DVD and didn’t see any dates on it. “When do you want her to have it?”
“I wasn’t sure. I was thinking about when she turns fifteen. Do you think that’s too young?”
“No, but I’m not part of her life, Mom. I don’t make decisions where she’s concerned. Tell me what you want, and I’ll pass the word to Manya. I have a feeling she’ll honor your requests more easily than she would one of mine. If I ever have one.”
Mom nodded. “Make it when she turns fifteen, then.” She glanced at her watch and asked, “Do you know what time it is in Mumbai?”
“They’re twelve and a half hours ahead of us, so it’s almost six o’clock Monday morning. Still a little early.”
“A little,” she said. Mom looked around and lowered her voice. “David, I know it’s none of my business, but you and Rose…Have you thought about…your future?”
I lowered my voice as well. “I do think about it, but Rose can’t have children, ever. There’s no treatment, no options. She’s still pretty messed up, so, let’s not talk about it, Okay?”
“I won’t, don’t worry. It’s my right to worry, but not to interfere.” She put her coat on and glanced outside to make sure Audrey was still in the car. She turned back to me and said, “Promise me you’ll keep the family together. Don’t let your sister drive you away from her, and don’t let your father run and hide. Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll keep the door open, but I can’t force anyone to walk through it.” I gave her a hug and opened the door for her. “I’ll do my best, but they’re both batshit crazy.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” she said. “The difference is, you make enough money to get away with being called eccentric.” She put her finger in the middle of my chest. “I meant what I said. Don’t lose them.”
I waved until their car was out of sight and closed the door. I leaned up against it, running my hands through my hair. Sometimes, being a grown-up really sucks.
Chapter Four
Side Effects
Just as I started thinking life would calm down a bit after the holidays, fate decided I needed a right bollocking. Minutes before my regular Monday morning status conference with my boss and the rest of the database team, Miriam called and made my day. “David, I had a client brought in last night who is on the Loseitall trial. As a courtesy, I wanted to give you a heads up before I file my official report.”
Loseitall is my employer’s Next Big Thing—a super-powerful weight loss drug currently in the first round of human trials. That’s not the name of it, of course. I’m highly allergic to lawsuits. Since Miriam is a clinical psychiatrist at a state-run inpatient mental health facility, her clients tend to be involuntary psychiatric holds and accused criminals being evaluated for possible mental illnesses. If this person’s troubles were due to a side-effect of our medication, it could be bad news for all concerned.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “How bad is it?”
She hesitated. “You might want to walk away while you can. This guy has no prior arrests, no history of mental or emotional problems, and no history of violence. He stripped his clothes off,
broke in to his neighbor’s house, beat the daylights out of the couple living there, and carved strips of skin off the husband’s back. He cooked them up like bacon and ate them. A passing patrol car spotted the open door and investigated. They found the guy slicing off his own lips. He attacked the cops, they took him down.”
I put my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes. “Blessed Mother… How are the victims doing?”
“I don’t know. They’re both alive and in the ICU, but that’s all the information being released right now.”
“Thank goodness. What about the attacker? Are you sure it was the Loseitall?”
Miriam said, “No, but that’s my leading suspicion, based on talking to the suspect’s girlfriend. She reports a rise in overall aggression and issues with impulse control over the six months he’s been on the trial.”
“Well, crap.” I looked at the clock and shook my head. “Thanks for the warning. I have a meeting to call in on in about a minute, so do what you need to do. It won’t impact me, and I’m not going to bring it up to anyone.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.” She hung up. I stared at the phone for several long seconds before dropping the handset into the cradle. Any reports of Loseitall being connected to violent outbursts would trigger an immediate review process, which meant either no such reports had come in yet, or they’d been covered up.
If there were no reports, that was one thing. The integrity of the data, though…that was my job. If someone had gotten past my protocols, I wanted to know who and how. I needed to find them, and serve their balls up on a silver platter before the FDA found out and served up mine.