"I don't know, she told me she wanted to decorate the place."
She stared down at Walter, mouth agape. "Why?"
"She told me it was a surprise reunion for you. So I left the door unlocked for her so she could get in," Walter said, shaking his head.
Minerva twisted herself to George. "You saw her? Tell me what she said. She was here to snoop, wasn't she?"
"Hell, I don't know, Minerva. I didn't see anything on her when she left, but she did look a little nervous," George said.
"Well," the word came out like a bellow from Minerva. "Did you ask her what she was doing?"
"Minerva, now don't get any madder than what you are," George said, holding his hands palms down. "Even if she was snooping, what does it matter? You didn't kill Henry, so she wouldn't find anything anyway."
Her nose turned crimson and she held her breath. "God damn it, I knew it!"
"But like I said, she left with nothing but her purse in her hands, anyway," George said. "And hell, maybe she was looking for something else. I don't know."
Minerva dropped to the couch, her head in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Minerva," Walter said. "It's my fault."
"No, it's not," George said. "It's no one's fault but Piper's. Minerva, she's been through a lot. Some scumbag kidnapped and murdered our kid, for Christ's sake. It's been hard. She isn't thinking clearly. I know it's no excuse."
Minerva yanked her leg from Walter when he squeezed her knee. "You can look at it this way," Walter said. "At least she didn't get anything on you. Since there's nothing to get, I mean."
Chapter Twenty
Minerva grunted while she squeezed her arms through the holes in the new blouse. A couple of threads ripped and the sound caused her head to swivel toward the hallway. She stepped out of the bathroom and peered into the kitchen. If Walter heard the noise, he said nothing. Glasses perched on his nose, he was content to read his newspaper at the kitchen table.. She should have tried on the new blouse in her own bathroom. She fluffed her bangs with her fingers, pulled the hem of her blouse below her hips, and strode the few steps down the hall into the kitchen.
Walter turned a page and scanned the news. "I'm sorry I gave Piper permission. I didn't mean to do something you wouldn't approve of." This was the second time today he had apologized and Minerva was happy to hear it.
She bent and kissed the top of his head. Walter chuckled at the smacking sound her lips made.
"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean anything by it."
The dusk seeped through the window shades, casting mists of gray through the room, and Minerva flicked on the light switch. "Maybe you can see better now to read."
She sat and watched his eyes move from one section of the paper to another before turning the page. She glanced down at her chest and folded her arms on the table. "Do you like my new blouse?" Walter looked up at her and she smiled at him. "I bought it today...just for you."
Walter lowered the paper to the table and studied the blouse. The red, green, and yellow flowers popped from the fabric and he tilted his head. "What kind of flowers are those? Daisies?"
"Petunias." She watched his eyes roam over the blouse and she wondered if he was imagining more about it than what kind of flowers were on it. After all, it was low-cut in the front and her ample cleavage made two half-moons over the top of it.
"I like it. It makes me want to ask you out for an ice cream cone." He folded the paper and rested it on the table. "So how about it? Let's go to Norma's and get one of those triple decker cones."
"Oh, I certainly don't need one of those." She twirled a loose curl between two fingers. "I don't need to gain any more weight." She caught his eyes and then swept her eyes to her cleavage. "Here, particularly." She giggled self-consciously and waited for him to reply. Her upturned lips melted into a grim line when she realized he wasn't going to respond to what she'd said. She studied his face while he fumbled for something inside of his pants pocket. The intense look on his face made her wonder if he'd heard her at all.
"Walter," she said. She waited until he pulled the car keys from his pocket and looked at her. "You aren't attracted to me. I mean, you are attracted to me, aren't you?" When he didn't answer right away, she found herself groping for words. "I know that time I wore the camisole and had the candles everywhere—well, I know it bothered you that I did that. I didn't mean to push—"
When Walter finally opened his mouth to speak, her eyes widened and she went quiet. "You didn't push, Minerva," he said. He cleared his throat and scooted his chair closer to the table. "It's not that at all." She watched his fingers twist around each other, and, at first, he avoided her eyes. She was about to speak when he looked up at her and continued. "I like you a lot, and I know the feeling is mutual. It's just that...." He cleared his throat again and adjusted his glasses behind one ear. "This is hard for me to talk about."
Minerva felt a pang deep in her stomach. "You don't have to say anything else." She tried swallowing but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. "I know we're only friends and you don't want to sleep with me."
Walter shook his head. "No, that's not what it is. Let me explain. I—"
"No, Walter, you don't have to explain a damn thing." Her voice rose while she spoke. "I know you weren't ready to make love that night. And you aren't ready now. So be it." She remained unconvinced of his not being ready after saying this, but she didn't want to appear desperate. But deep inside, she didn't want to be forgotten, or tossed aside. "Let's not talk about it anymore."
"Look, Minerva, I want to you know something. I do like you very much, and maybe someday it can evolve into something different for both of us. But we need to go slowly, you know, be careful. We aren't kids anymore, and we don't want to...."
She saw him grapple for words. "We don't want to screw up by being together? Is that what you mean?"
Walter's shoulders relaxed but his eyes didn't. They darted from one point to another on her face. "Well, no, it's not what I meant, exactly. I wouldn't put it that harshly." She watched him fiddle with his car keys, and a for a moment she wanted to scream at him—accuse him of using her—or worse yet, accuse him of not being manly enough to want her. Or hell, maybe he was gay and too scared to admit it.
Minerva sat back, her thoughts whirling deeper in her mind. She didn't hear Walter speaking to her. She didn't notice he was staring at her, his lips slightly parted.
"Minerva!" She heard him say. She blinked and looked at him.
"Let's not worry about all this now. It will work out. Let's go on being friends and see where it goes." He smiled and spread his arms. "What do you say? It's not as bad as you might think. We're grown up enough to make that decision, aren't we?"
She thought his question sounded more like a statement so she didn't respond to it. Deep down, she knew he was right about their relationship. After her pulse slowed she realized what she truly wanted. She wanted to be loved. She wanted someone to care about her like no one cared for her before. Well, maybe Henry did. Yes, Henry had cared for her—even if he did have an affair. Her mind swirled around this thought until she consciously pushed it aside. She didn't need to be rolling around in all that mud, not right now.
She slapped an upturned palm on the table and rose to her feet. "We can do whatever the hell we want," she said, not looking at him, her words clipped. "And no, we're not young anymore. So let's go get that giant ice cream cone."
***
John sat tight-lipped while Piper ranted. He had never seen her so intent on having her way. "I have to find something on her. She can't get away with what she's done!"
"I don't think you did the right thing going over there," he said. "She could send the law after you."
"Let her, I don't care."
"Oh, come on," he said. "Look at you, you're a total wreck. You're addicted to drugs." Piper shot him a look and he ignored it. "You're sneaking in people's houses. I know you've been through so much but you can't keep doing this. You need counsel
ing - drug counseling, psychiatric counseling, whatever. You're too angry and bitter, and it's eating you alive."
"Fuck you. My son was murdered and no one cares," Piper said, turning to leave the room.
"Wait a minute," John said, motioning her back. "You need to listen to this, Piper."
Piper swung around. "Why should I listen? You're hurting me with your damn words. I'm not insane, you know." She sniffed, stomped to the couch, and sat down hard.
He moved closer and stretched out his arm toward her. She refused to take his hand and instead rested her chin on her folded arms. "Look, I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I want to help. Let me get you help, Piper." His eyes didn't leave her face. Piper stared at the floor.
"I can do this myself," Piper said.
Piper buried her face in her sweater sleeve, her arms wrapped tight around her legs. Her eyes were dry but tension squeezed her face. John had never seen her look so tired...and...old. "You know, John, all I ever see anymore is Fellow's death in my mind. It's driving me crazy." She unfolded her legs and rubbed them as if they hurt. "I can't seem to shake the things I see in my head. How can anyone do things like that to a child?"
"I don't know." He patted her on her back and she didn't resist. "It's okay." He sat, rubbing her shoulder, staring at the side of her face.
"I'll go through the phone book and see who I can find to help," he said.
***
Minerva sealed the envelope and slipped it in her purse. She'd make the stop on her way to Sav-A-Lot to pick up Walter. Tuesdays were their lunch days and she picked him up promptly at noon, where they drove to Nanita's Mexican Café for the All-You-Can-Eat Taco buffet. She wore her new lashes today, and slipped the little comb for them in a side pocket of her purse. She hoped if she sneezed or something, they wouldn't fly off and land in a bowl of spicy queso. The thought made her chuckle.
She pulled up to Piper's mailbox, unrolled the window, opened the mailbox door, and pushed the envelope in. She was glad Piper hadn't found it in her pajama drawer when she searched the house. She thought she saw a curtain in the living room window rustle, so she stepped on the gas pedal and sped off. This wasn't a social visit, but an attempt at a new start. At least she hoped so.
Minerva loved having lunch with Walter. It was always like a date and she liked to dress "to the nines." Today she wore denim jeans with clear rhinestones that ran down each leg. It was warmer today, so she chose her three-quarter sleeve, multi-colored blouse to go with it, the one long enough to cover her ample rear. She liked this because every year, after Thanksgiving and Christmas, she'd battle those extra ten pounds. She cared less and less over time about battling anything. Walter's kindness somehow set her free from the worry and fussing about her weight. He accepted her as she was. And even though he wanted to "go slow," as he put it, she knew he liked her...maybe loved her. She hoped he did anyway.
She pulled the door to the store and stepped inside. Minerva looked but Walter wasn't at his usual post. She asked Maureen, one of the checkout clerks, where he was and she motioned toward the back. He must be in his office.
Knocking on the door, she opened it a couple inches, craning her ears for voices. "Walter?" She opened the door a little farther, hoping to see him sitting in his chair. But he wasn't there. Opening the door all the way, she glanced around the tiny room.
She backed out, closed the door, and rounded the aisle. From a distance she could see him, standing with a blonde near the banana rack. Minerva turned her face and squinted as if it would help her see. In a quick dash, she turned down another aisle before he could spot her. She cruised down the aisle and turned left, straining to hear something of their conversation. She quickened her pace, paying no attention to the people staring at her. Walter and the blonde looked like they were whispering to each other. Her heart pounded and her nose turned hot and flushed.
"Oh, yeah?" She heard the woman say. Minerva peeked around the opposite side of the banana rack, at the end of the juice aisle. Walter's back was to her so if the woman saw her, it wouldn't matter since they didn't know each other. Her head darted back, then slowly peeked around again. The woman threw her head back and laughed, the blond hair fell behind her shoulders, revealing a creamy neck. Who in the hell is she? Walter laughed, too, only it seemed like he was trying to conceal it. Minerva had seen enough and decided to make her entrance. She crept around the end of the aisle and pretended to check out the bags of pretzels lined on the shelves. They were not more than ten feet away. All Walter had to do was turn around and there she'd be.
She picked a bag of pretzel sticks, oblivious to which one she chose. No salt, she read on the package. Placing the package in its spot, she poked her head over her shoulder at the woman. She was about to stroll around to something else, but was riveted when she heard Walter say "see you later" after he stepped away. On his face was the sexiest smile she had ever seen him wear.
She froze. If he turned this way, he'd bump right into her. She spun and skittered down the aisle. Peering around the end, she saw Walter heading toward the front of the store. She circled back, looking for the blonde woman. She needed to see more of her.
She found her by the wheat bread. The skinny thing probably eats that stuff, she thought. She strolled past her, her eyes fixed on the side and back of the woman. She coughed at a whiff of musky perfume. The woman glanced around and smiled. Minerva didn't make eye contact but kept walking.
Walter was waiting on a customer when she reached the front. "There you are, thought you stood me up," he said. He winked and said thank you to the customer, rounding the counter to hug Minerva. She moved to the side, eyes downcast.
"Who is she?" Minerva asked.
"What? Who?" Walter said.
"I saw you talking with a woman. Who is she?"
Walter looked as if he sensed her anger. "Let's go to the office, Minerva." She followed, a scowl on her face.
Closing the door, Walter said, "What's wrong?"
"I saw you talking with a woman, is all. Who is she?"
"What woman?" Walter's soft smile helped melt her resolve and his Buddy Holly glasses added extra spark to his face.
She felt her face grow hot. For some reason what she had thought didn't seem so important now. "Oh, the one I saw you talking with when I came in," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "You were standing near the bananas."
"Just a few minutes ago?"
Minerva tried smiling. "Yeah."
Walter's eyes rolled to the ceiling as if in thought. "That was, uh, let's see...can't think of her name." He snapped his fingers while trying to remember the name. "Oh, yeah, Barbara, wife of one of the clerks. She asked me how to store bananas so they wouldn't turn dark so fast. That was the gist of it."
"Well," she said, nodding, speaking softly. "Okay. I shouldn't have thought—"
"Are you okay?" The compassion in his voice soothed her and her face softened.
"Sure," she said after a while. She had no doubt in her mind Walter was telling the truth, even though the nagging thought of Walter talking with any attractive woman ruffled her nerves. They left the store, arms looped around each other, and she thought everything would be all right.
***
Piper wrapped her robe around her and tied it at the center. She checked the clock on the wall. One p.m. She had slept most of the day. With George still staying with Minerva and John at work, unable to visit today, she planned to busy herself with chores: a stack of overdue laundry, two unmade beds with sheets that needed changing, floors to vacuum. She carried an armful of clothes to the washer and stuffed them in the machine. She set the water to hot and closed the lid.
She saw the red, white, and blue stripes on the mail truck while she passed through the living room. Slipping on her husband's extra set of work boots sitting by the door, she trudged out to the mailbox.
Piper thumbed through the mail: A flyer from Safeway, an auto insurance invitation, something addressed to George. She made the proper stacks, one t
o throw away, the other to store in the letter holder until each was opened. She stepped on the trashcan pedal and the lid flipped open. She dropped the stack in, and upon depressing the pedal, noticed a thick envelope had slipped out from the middle. This was one she hadn't seen. Lifting it out, she saw her name scribbled on the front. She sat at the table and opened it.
Money...a lot of it. The one hundred dollar bills felt crisp in her fingers while she counted sixty of them. Six thousand dollars. Surprise fixed on her face while she unfolded the small note attached.
.
Piper, this is for you. I saved it for your college all those years ago but you never went but anyway, thought you could use the money now, since you and George aren't together. I hope you accept it. I inherited the money from your grandmother when she passed. She would be proud I gave it to you. I didn't give nothing to John, since I didn't trust that he would spend it well since he was doing drugs back then and all. You can share it with him if you want. All I can ask is spend it well. Love, Mother
.
Piper crumpled the paper and bowed her head to her hands. After a minute, she rose and passed down the hall to the bathroom. The flowered cosmetic bag sat under the sink. She unzipped the bag and pulled out the bottle. Two more pills left. She took one out, zipped the bag, and returned it to its place. She filled a Dixie cup with water and right before dropping the pill on her tongue, stopped and caught her reflection in the mirror. There was no denying the dead face staring back at her. Her once pretty face was now a gaunt mask, with greenish black circles under her eyes, puffy and lined with fine wrinkles.
Piper dropped the pill near the drain and turned on the water. She watched it disappear with the flow, turned it off, and reached under the sink again for the bag. She twisted the cap off and dropped the last pill into the toilet. She felt herself trembling while the pills circled and flowed away. She was on her own now.
She found a pen and stationery in the magazine rack and sat down to write. She wrote three lines, signed it, and folded it in half. She would slip it in her mother's mailbox when she went to pay bills.
Minerva Day Page 25