Minerva Day

by Christie Keele

  Minerva rose from bed and padded down the hall. There was something she forgot to do, but couldn't think of what it was. She flipped the switch and the kitchen light fluttered on. Minerva rubbed her chin and searched for the post-it note she'd scribbled earlier. She had written a reminder on it. Not finding it, she filled a glass with water and took a sip.

  The heat rose from her neck and Minerva fanned herself. Her moistened forehead gleamed under the light. A sudden chill crept up her spine and she braced herself against the countertop. She turned to put the glass in the draining board and almost fainted. The light spun around her head and bile rose to her throat. Minerva grabbed for the table chair and eased herself on it. The water in the glass rippled in her hand when she picked it back up. She steadied it on the table and cupped her head in her hands.

  A few minutes later, she lay in bed, Lew in a ball on top of her feet. Minerva's limbs were dead weights. This hell mode, as she still called it, hadn't lasted as long. She fell into a deep slumber. Down the hall the kitchen light shone bright. And just under the fridge was the post-it note. Pick up pills at pharmacy, it read.

  ***

  The weatherman said a storm was due right before Christmas. Minerva clicked off the radio and opened the window curtain for a view. The dark clouds already loomed. She tried picking out shapes in them but couldn't recognize any. Her mind was too fuzzy. Minerva bundled herself and found a half bag of salt in the shed. She went back inside, pulled on Henry's rubber boots, headed out to the driveway, and spread the salt evenly until the bag was empty.

  Minerva noticed a dead potted plant on the porch, the brittle twigs knotted like old fingers. She tugged the root from the soil and dumped the huge clumps of dirt on the side of the trailer. Minerva liked that plants slept in the winter and then bloomed to life again in the spring. Was this one a perennial or was it an annual? Annual, she decided, but she didn't really know the difference. Minerva stacked the empty plant holder inside another on the porch, stomped mud off her boots before taking them off right inside the door, and changed the old wool coat and scarf for a housedress. She wore knitted booties she had made for herself under her house shoes and pulled a handful of hair into a pigtail at the back of her head.

  Lew begged for pieces of cheese while she unfolded the wrapper, peeled a bite, and flipped the three channels with the remote. The heater clicked off and on while Minerva covered then uncovered herself. Feeling warm again, she moved Lew to the floor and stood to turn it down. Small stains dampened her underarms. She flipped the coffee pot to 'off' and searched in the fridge for water but found none. Instead, she snapped the tab off an old can of lemonade and took a long swig, grabbed the dish towel off the countertop, and wiped her forehead. Minerva counted the Little Debbie cream cakes and took one before plodding back to the couch. Stooping to sit, she caught a movement through a crack between the window curtains and stopped in mid-air. There in the driveway sat Walter's car.

  Opening the door to a grinning Walter, she forgot her modesty and he saw her in the housedress and pigtail. Nor did it occur to her to question why he came back after not talking with her for a few days. She slapped her thigh and laughed while he spoke, winked at him through her own stories, served him coffee, and made him wait almost an hour watching the last half of a John Wayne movie while she changed clothes.

  They drove through the muddy streets to Sav-A-Lot where he got a discount and bought items to make homemade pizza and bread sticks. They cleared the dishes after eating and giggled when he almost slipped on a spot of dish soap. They talked of the twins, the dogs they had owned over the years, his allergic reaction to cats, and eventually, why he "chose to marry his childhood sweetheart," Walter said, removing his Buddy Holly glasses and rubbing his eyes. He told Minerva he had loved his wife very much and it was hard living without her. He searched her eyes before asking about Henry. "Did you love him?" Walter smiled an apology then dipped his head.

  "I did, especially at the beginning," she said. Two fingers nudged the saltshaker. "I don't know what we became after that." She thought of Della and shifted in her seat. The memory hurt her head but she remembered how Walter had left when this subject was mentioned before, so she forced herself to speak.

  Seconds passed before he asked, "What was it that took Henry? I know you mentioned it before, but...."

  "He was sick," Minerva said, too fast. She caught herself. "I mean, he ailed in his stomach." She peered up at him and nudged the saltshaker back. Minerva squirmed like a child in church when people asked about Henry, but she remained calm now. Something about Walter put her at ease. Still, she didn't want to speak too much on her dead husband.

  "I see. His death must have been tough on you, the family."

  She broke his gaze and pushed to stand, but he took her hand before she could. "Minerva, we don't have to talk about this."

  "Yes, it was tough," she said, removing her hand and rising. "How about a movie? Let's go to the movies. Saw a comedy was playing." Anything, she thought, to not have to think about the past.

  "Of course, it'll be fun." Walter grinned and patted her arm. "I'll go warm the car." Minerva nodded, glad for the reprieve.

  "Walter," she asked, before he shut the front door. He leaned in, eyebrows raised. "You do believe me, don't you?"

  "Believe what, my dear?"

  The term of endearment caused a deep tug in her chest. "That I loved my husband."

  "Yes, I do believe you loved him," Walter said. Minerva looked relieved. "Now let's not be late for that movie."

  ***

  Minerva ignored a slight headache she'd had for the last two days. Yesterday's date with Walter helped her forget the pain. The pine smell of the tree, the lighted Santa Claus in the window, the baby Jesus asleep in the manger, and farther out, the sparkling red, gold, and green town lights, the bundled carolers and "Joy to the World" sung at doors with pine cone wreaths, all made her forget the withdrawal signs she experienced when she went off her medication. Minerva missed the call on the answering machine reminding her of her doctor's appointment. Somehow this one had been erased.

  She turned up "Santa Baby" again and two-stepped around the kitchen. The double batch of Rocky Road treats sat wrapped in tin foil, a red bow tied around the silver metal. Minerva sipped eggnog and scooped Lew up to dance, kissed the little wet nose, found an old knit baby cap and stuck it on Lew's head. She chortled when Lew bit at the tie.

  She ignored the sweat, then sudden cold, of her forehead while she went about her tasks. When she grew dizzy she told herself it was because she didn't eat breakfast in all the excitement of the day.

  Minerva sunk into the couch, eggnog in hand. She would let the Martha Washingtons cool. She imagined popping one in her mouth and letting the rich chocolate dissolve in a gooey heap. Her mouth watered and she wondered if she should've added nuts to the mixture again this year.

  She flipped to an afternoon re-run of The Price is Right, picked up the needles, yarn, and a shawl she'd been working on and strung the needles. Knitting soothed her nerves and made her feel useful. She knitted about this time every year and gave most of what she made away to the Salvation Army, or gave it as gifts to family and friends. But this year, Minerva decided to sell some of it at the Christmas carnival and buy nice things for herself.

  Minerva remembered her free-form bra and blushed when she thought of how Walter would react to seeing it. This was the one she wore when he first asked her out. He hadn't seen it yet, but the way things were moving, it was inevitable. She flung the knitting aside for now and went to try it on. She wore it under her housedress while she stirred another pan of chocolate.

  Minerva turned the burner up high, put a saucepan on it, found the caramels on top of the fridge, and dumped them in the pan. Piper liked caramel apples so she made them every year out of habit. She chose a mixing bowl and gathered eggs, flour, coconut, and chocolate for another batch of Martha Washingtons. Damn it, forgot to get milk, she thought. She searched deep in the cabinet
for the powdered kind but found none. Frowning while she went down the hall, she slipped bare arms in her coat, pulled on sweat pants under her housedress, and stepped outside. The wet from the cold porch seeped through her house shoes. "Shit." Minerva pulled rubber boots over her damp shoes, swiped an arm over the snow on the windshield, and heaved herself in the truck. Thank God she kept loose change in the side door. She forgot her purse and didn't want to go back for it. It sat indoors on the side stool where she always kept it, wallet, license, and brush inside.

  Minerva didn't want to drive to Sav-A-Lot and risk seeing Walter in her rumpled state, so she drove to Lilly's, her favorite of the two convenience stores in Pinewood. Someone waved to her before she opened the door but Minerva paid no attention to him. She plodded toward the milk and grabbed a half gallon.

  "And a Merry Christmas to you," the young lady said to Minerva from across the counter while she rang up the milk. "By the way, where did you get those cute earrings? They are so darling!"

  "I got 'em at Wal-Mart. They were cheap," Minerva said. She lifted the sack off the counter. She turned around before exiting the door and saw the clerk frowning at her. She walked back to her truck rubbing one of the earrings with her free hand.

  Minerva gasped when she stepped back inside the trailer. The pungent smell and smoke from the kitchen caused her to drop the milk jug. She grabbed the pan's hot handle then jerked her hand back. The pan crashed to the floor. "Damn it," she said. Bubbling caramel singed her ankle and her fingers burned. Black smoke rose from the stove and the pan, tripping the alarm down the hall. Minerva coughed then yanked off her boot, but found banging on it only made it screech louder. She tossed the boot aside and rummaged for a screwdriver in the kitchen drawer and stabbed at the alarm until it went quiet. She braced her hands on the wall, panting, and looked down to see Lew had scampered under her bed.

  Minerva scoured the room: ruined pan, caramel hardening on the floor, the dirty counter, the lingering chemical smell. She took a seat at the table and wiped her forehead. Lew gnawed on a piece of caramel stuck to the floor. Minerva hurled a dish towel at the dog and she closed her eyes in a deep blink but continued chewing. "You dumb dog," she said. "Hope you get sick." She dropped her head on her arms and began to cry.

  A few minutes later, Walter's soft knock on the door startled Minerva. She blew her nose and peeked around the door while she opened it. He stepped in and looked around the room while she explained what happened.

  "Let me get you a cold wash rag for your forehead," he said. "You'll feel better." He returned with the folded rag and placed it on her head, careful to move the damp curls first. Minerva reclined in Henry's Lay-Z-Boy while the rag cooled her. Walter surveyed the mess in the kitchen. Gathering a scouring pad, mop, and soap, he filled a bucket with hot water and began cleaning. Minerva turned and giggled when she saw him on his hands and knees, his butt wiggling while he scrubbed caramel off the floor. But she loved the attention bestowed upon her and reveled in the sight. It had been a while since someone had taken care of her.

  Walter scrubbed caramel for thirty minutes and ended up cleaning the whole kitchen. He threw out an empty box of foil, one of sandwich baggies, and took out the last packaged cream cake and tossed that box, too. He poured water in the coffee maker and flipped the switch.

  Walter set a steaming cup near the chair. "Want some coffee?"

  Minerva bundled her quilt around her, her bare feet sticking out the end. Walter tossed the wet shoes in the dryer in the hall bathroom, found socks in the bedroom drawer, and slipped them on her feet. "Thank you," she said, wiggling her toes.

  They sat in the living room, drinking coffee. "Minerva," he said. "How would you like to go out of town with me for a couple days?"

  She folded the top half of the quilt to her lap. Her face brightened and she straightened in her chair. "When and where?"

  Walter squatted on the footstool near her. "Santa Fe, in two days. We could leave Saturday and come back Monday. Back in plenty of time for Christmas."

  Minerva slumped. "Oh, I can't go. I get Fellow on Monday for a couple days."

  "Right, I forgot about that. Well, maybe we can go another time. I'd love to see the sights with you. Ever been there?"

  She didn't seem to hear him. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

  "I'll be driving over to Texas for the holidays. Have some friends there I haven't seen in a while."

  Minerva's mind clicked and her eyes planted on the wall above his head. She wanted to ask the friend's name, but hesitated. The last thing she wanted to feel like was a jealous fool in front of Walter. This friend must be special, or he wouldn't be going during Christmas.

  She ran a hand through her hair and continued smoothing the strands behind her ear. "Anyone I know?" She giggled and the frown eased on her face.

  Walter smiled, too. "Not this guy. An old school friend I ran with for years."

  "Oh, I see." She thought of her family and how they'd react to meeting Walter. Piper didn't mind her dating, but she wasn't sure what John would say when he found out. "I'd like for you to meet Fellow some time."

  Walter smiled. "I'd love to."

  He went to the store for more caramel, bought a new pan to replace the ruined one, and the two worked to midnight making caramel apples. "I'll watch the caramel so it won't burn," he said, and winked. Minerva slugged his arm. When too many yawns overcame Walter, he said he'd turn into a pumpkin if he didn't head for home.

  "More like a werewolf," Minerva said. He left with a tin of chocolates under his arm, looking handsome in his old-fashioned trench coat.

  Minerva readied herself for bed, toothbrush hanging from her mouth while she slathered the avocado peel on her face. Walter hadn't kissed her yet, but she almost kissed him after he tugged the fuzzy socks onto her feet. A kiss would've been nice, but she didn't think of herself as a forward person. She turned down the covers, turned up the dial on the blanket, and went to rinse the peel.

  She patted her face dry and headed to the bed. Snuggled deep in the covers, Lew yapped and Minerva leaned to pick her up. She thought of someday having someone other than her dog to keep her warm, but Henry flashed through her mind and the thought was lost. She pushed her foot under Lew and turned to her side.

  In two days Fellow would be here. She considered what to do during his visit. The Christmas carnival would be in town and she had rented a booth. He would like the rides and games. Minerva would make it a special time. Something he would remember for the rest of his life.

  Minerva fell asleep and dreamed Fellow was running from her. She ran in full pursuit after him, chased him until her knees gave out and she tumbled to the ground. She screamed up at the blurry face of someone looming over her and saw it had morphed into Piper's. Or was it John's face? She wasn't sure. Whoever it was, they held a hammer over her head. Minerva recognized this nightmare and knew she'd wake up before the hit. It was the same every time. Just when the hammer was raised, she, John, and Piper screamed at once, endless, disconnected screams, each rounded mouth moving to and from her mind's eye, like patterns in a black and white kaleidoscope.

  Minerva's eyes popped open and she rolled to her side. The last she remembered was a new element of the dream... Fellow, writhing and pleading on the ground next to her, eyes wide in terror, his skin burnt like caramel on the cold kitchen floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Minerva woke Fellow at six a.m. and he bathed while she dried her hair. Happy with the tease up top, she turned her head to admire the look and hummed to herself. Walter came to mind and she wished he were going with them to the Christmas carnival. She finished dressing and grabbed Fellow's cotton-lined red jacket and tennis shoes out of the closet. She let him pick out his own outfit.

  A strawberry pop tart sprang up and she placed it on a paper napkin then loaded one in the toaster for herself. She laughed when she saw Fellow's shirt was inside out. "The tag is showing, silly boy, take it off and fix it," Minerva said.

  He la
ughed, too, and struggled out of the shirt. "Where are we going?" he asked.

  "You'll see," she said. "Grab your jacket and let's go."

  Minerva buckled Fellow in the seat and pulled the strap once to secure it. "You'll have some great fun today," she said. She clapped her hands and Fellow clapped his, too. He giggled and placed a tennis shoe on the dashboard. Minerva tapped his leg and Fellow removed his foot.

  ***

  She parked near the front door under a banner that read WELCOME TO SANTA'S WORKSHOP. She looked up at the sky before exiting the car and noticed the ghostly shapes overhead. These were the darkest clouds she'd ever seen and she wondered when the storm would hit. It would certainly be a bad one. It made her feel uneasy and she thought of crossing herself, like Catholics would do. She cinched the tie on her coat and reached over to unbuckle Fellow.

  The carnival was held every year at the convention center ten miles outside of Ruidoso. One room held up to fifty booths, and the carnival was set up in this room since more space was needed for the indoor rides and games. "Look, it's Santa's Workshop," Minerva said, smiling at Fellow.

  "Oh boy, is it Christmas now?" he asked, and pointed at a clown with big green hair and oversized elf shoes standing near the entrance. A ball teetered on the clown's nose then bounced into the small crowd of children gathered close. A child grabbed it and shrieked with laughter. "I want one of those balls," Fellow said, his eyes bright.

  "Well, let's see how well you eat today then we'll see about a ball. And no, it's not Christmas yet. Not for almost a week." Minerva frowned and ran a hand through her hair.