Minerva Day

by Christie Keele

  ***

  It was a cold day for a party. The sun tried bursting through but the clouds wouldn't let it. The branches of the trees in the front yard still cried for mercy from the death-grip of ice on them, each claw-like branch crippled and asking for forgiveness. The forecast predicted another storm, but that didn't stop Minerva. She had great plans for the day.

  The Valentine's party decorating would come later, but first, a trip to the store. She pulled a list from her purse and checked the items. Maybe she'd add jalapenos to the roast beef this time. She added the jalapenos to the list. Let's see, Betty Crocker chocolate cake mix—she would have to check to see if she needed eggs before leaving—white cream cheese icing, and a small pack of food coloring.

  One, two, three eggs, she counted while standing at the fridge. She added a carton of eggs to the list. Got to get going, time would soon run out, she thought.

  Minerva struggled into a pull-over sweatshirt and went outside to cool herself. The light breeze was refreshing on her sweat-drenched forehead. The kitchen was hot because of all the cooking she was doing. She waved at a passer-by with more spirit today. She called next door to Paula, her crazy neighbor from New York, as Minerva described her. "Hey," she said, waving her arm. The lady did a double take upon entering her house and waved a quick hello. She thought she'd send a batch of cookies to the woman, just to see what reaction she would get.

  Minerva heard a faint whistle and stepped back inside the house to avoid anyone trying to get her attention. Her cheeks were red from the cold, but she didn't feel it. Today her loved ones would be with her. All the people she loved. Except Piper.

  This thought lingered with her until she strode to the spare room to collect the decorations, determined not to let it ruin her day.

  Minerva removed a sheet of cookies from the oven, shoved in the cake batter, and set the timer to thirty-five minutes. She gathered two eggs, a cup of water, the box of icing, and mixed the ingredients in a glass bowl. Setting it aside, she turned her attention to the strawberry icing made for the cookies. This was a special recipe, handed down by her mother. Every year she made the chewy cookies to everyone's delight. She drew out a basket of strawberries and began chopping them in little pieces. These would be dropped on top of the icing, giving it an extra sweet taste. And it looked pretty, too.

  Minerva pushed the footstool up against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. This part always made her back ache before she was finished. Beginning on the left side, she taped the intertwined, red and pink streamers to the wall in loops all the way around the living room. When she was finished, she stood back and viewed her work. One loop on the left wall was sagging, so she moved the footstool to fix it. A shrill alarm came from the oven and Minerva left the sagging loop, tending to the cake.

  After she had iced the cake and cookies, taped the loops, hung the pictures of the twins on the wall, careful to straighten the dangling strings, she added the purple plastic heart between them, which set off their fair skin and hair.

  She marveled at the scene she'd set: pink and red cookies, pink cake. Minerva frowned then went to the table and picked up the tube of purple icing she had mixed. Holding the tube with both hands, she wrote all their names on the cake: Dill, John and Piper, George, and Fellow. There was no way she was leaving Fellow's name off the cake. She wrote the names on two cookies for Gloria and Lenny, if they could make it. Tonight was Lenny's birthday and they were celebrating with other friends, but she hoped they'd stop by. Next, she wrote John's name on one, then George's, and wrote Fellow's name on another. Standing back, she looked at Fellow's name. Who would eat this cookie? Minerva picked up a butter knife and smoothed the icing on it. She wouldn't keep his name on a cookie. She was glad she put his name on the cake. She saved Walter and Minerva for last, where she wrote the names side by side on one cookie, with a little heart nearby.

  Minerva thought there was a chance of her daughter showing up, imagining how Piper would think of all the good times they've had at Valentine's parties before. Maybe she would miss seeing her family together and she would come. She hadn't thought of leaving her daughter's name off the cake.

  She almost skipped to her bedroom to get ready. Holding the can of Aquanet hairspray over her head, she held her breath and sprayed in a continuous circle until a good amount landed on her head. She let go of her breath in one big whoosh and patted certain spots. Her hair looked gorgeous today, which always lightened her mood.

  The shiny dress she found at Wal-Mart fit perfectly, the red spandex and polyester hugging her curves in a way that Walter might appreciate. Minerva tingled when she thought of what he'd say when he saw it. Never mind the extra ten pounds she'd gained from too many pecan logs at Christmas.

  Minerva turned on the closet light and scanned the rows of shoes. She didn't have many, but at one time she had considered herself a "shoe hoarder," since she had over fifteen pairs. Now she had closer to ten pairs, which seemed reasonable. She chose the perfect match for her dress.

  She watched the time. Almost six o'clock. She took the roast beef out of the oven, complete with potatoes, carrots, and onions. The aroma made her mouth water so she tiptoed over, even with no one watching, and tore off a tiny piece from the side. Savoring the small bite, something caught her eye through the living room window. It was George pulling up in the driveway.

  "Hey, brought in the mail for ya'," he said, trudging up the steps. Minerva had propped the door open to let out some of the heat. "Still want this door open?"

  "Go ahead and close it," she said, taking the mail from him. "Thanks."

  George looked around at the streamers and the glittery pictures of John and Piper nailed to the wall. "Looks nice."

  "Better get ready, everyone will be here soon." Minerva sat down to open the mail. She was hoping George would mention her dress.

  "Yep, I'll shower." George sat his lunch box near the sink. "I'll put that away in a minute." He turned down the hall. "By the way, you look nice," she heard him say.

  Minerva giggled. "Oh, this old thing," she almost said, but decided not to and instead smiled to herself. "Thank you."

  She heard him call from the bathroom door, "You think Piper will come tonight?"

  She didn't know what to say. She knew George wanted to reconcile with her, and she knew he would want to hear that yes, she would be here. "Oh, I hope so. I think she will." She hoped that pleased George, and she heard the door shut.

  Minerva wondered what CDs she'd play for the party. Engelbert was her favorite, but she didn't think the guys would care for him. She chose a Louis Prima CD and put it near the player.

  She lifted the mail and sorted through two flyers, a health clinic check-up notice, and what looked like a baby shower invitation from one of the ladies from the church. Though Minerva rarely attended church, she met a few nice ladies from the Love Baptist Church who supported her through her recent tribulations.

  The last piece was an envelope addressed to her. There was no return address in the corner. She thought she recognized the loopy marks of the writer but couldn't quite place them. She unfolded the tiny paper and her eyes dipped to the signed name before she read it. Piper. She took a deep breath and looked away for a second before reading.

  .

  Momma,

  Thank you for the note...and the money.

  I will be there.

  We do need to talk this out.

  Piper

  .

  George came out of nowhere and Minerva jumped from her skin. "My god," she said, clutching the note to her chest. "You scared me."

  George laughed. "Sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" He reached for the nearest cookie on the tray, but she was too quick. She slapped his hand in play and he pulled back, his bottom lip protruding like a child's.

  "Okay, you can have one." She selected a cookie and handed it to him. "But only one."

  George took a bite and looked at her. He moved in, studying her closer while she bli
nked up at him. "You okay? Your eyes are red."

  Minerva, still clutching Piper's note in her hand, extended it to George. "Look."

  George took the note and read the few lines. "So she'll be here after all." A smile appeared on his face.

  She hooked an arm through his, her enthusiasm bursting forth in one word: "Yes!"

  ***

  Minerva glanced at her watch while she put out new plates for the cake. Almost eight p.m. Conversation and soft laughter came from the living room. Every once in a while, she could hear Dill's deep, roaring laughter, which caused the others to laugh with him.

  "I'll get more forks for dessert, too," she said to no one in particular. She heard John whoop an "oh boy" and turned to see him clap his hand against his knee. Walter asked if he could help, but she said. "Not right now," and left him there to visit with Dill.

  At a few minutes after eight she glanced at her watch again. Piper still wasn't there. She caught George's disappointed look more than once. He sat on the floor, Indian-style, playing tug-of-war with Lew. His halfhearted attempt at fun tugged at Minerva's heart. She really didn't like the thought of losing him as her son-in-law.

  She unwrapped the cellophane from the cookie platter. The strawberries hadn't sunk into the icing too much. They still looked pretty in contrast with the pink icing. Before placing them on the table, she stole two from the platter and placed them in a baggie. It was early enough, and Piper was always bad about being late. She imagined handing Piper the cookies she saved for her, claiming they were the best two of the bunch. Piper would flash that pretty smile and say, Mother, you shouldn't have, but I'm sure glad you did. Then Minerva would laugh and say, But get that gob of icing off your chin.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when John said a little too loud, "Is it ready yet?"

  Before calling everyone for dessert, she hurried to the bathroom. She lowered the cool toilet seat and sat down on the lid. Tugging up her pantyhose, she noticed one of the sequins on her dress had popped off. Thinking it may have fallen since she sat, she looked around the bathroom floor.

  Minerva searched for the sequin, becoming more desperate while she looked. She kept herself from weeping, hands clamped over her mouth, eyes squeezed tight. It wasn't the sequin she was crying for. She would probably never wear this dress again. It rode up every time she stooped a little, causing her hand to fly behind her and yank it down. She unrolled a piece of toilet paper, dampened it under the faucet, and patted her face.

  Piper wasn't coming; she knew it now. She let this sink in. The work she had put into her picture that hung by her brother's on the wall, the cookies she bagged and put aside, the valentine she made for her, sitting with all the other valentines waiting to be opened.

  "Okay, guys," she said, entering the room, once again in control. She had dabbed some Oil of Olay under her eyes to add a little glow. "Time for dessert."

  They stood at once, all but Walter, who took a little longer to pull himself from the couch because of an aching back, and George, who rose like he was moving in slow motion. He brought Lew up with him, hanging on to the dog as if she gave him support. Dill sat down in a chair closest to Minerva while the others stood around the table, watching her untie a purple velvet bag.

  Minerva brought four valentines from the bag and gave each at the table one. She saved George's valentine for last, and putting Piper's under it, handed both to him. "You can take this one," she added in a whisper. When she saw his questioning look, she patted his arm and continued.

  Minerva watched the Valentine's cards being opened. Walter opened his slowly, so as not to tear the envelope. She saw him smile before he even read the card. John tore into his and stood there grinning. His card was humorous, as usual, which she thought suited his personality. She thought she heard him say, "Oh, Ma," but maybe he didn't. George and Dill had opened theirs and both thanked her for them, apologizing to her because it had been too late to get her a card.

  She was deep in thought about the individual meaning of the cards when Walter leaned in and whispered something to her, causing her to break out in a high-pitched giggle. "Oh, we're too old to call ourselves lovers," she said, her hand balling into a fist and pretending to hit his chest. "Besides, we're not lovers." Encouraged by what he whispered to her, she bent up and he leaned down so she could reach his ear, "At least not yet." There was hope after all.

  Walter reddened and brought her to him, kissing the top of her head.

  George sat down, drew a breath, and without looking at anyone, said, "You know, I just want to say, we miss Fellow so much, and me and Piper's lives have been permanently changed." He stiffened and cast his eyes to the ceiling. "I want to thank you all for your support and caring during this time. I only wish Piper was here to be with family, something she needs so much. But most of all, I wish Fellow was here with us." He bowed his head and Dill reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

  Minerva looked up at Walter and a sad smile formed on her face. He took her hand in his. John lowered his head and closed his eyes.

  Minerva looked on the table at the leftover goodies. "Fellow would've loved all these treats, wouldn't he?"

  George tried smiling. "Yes, he would've had a good time." He looked at her. "Do you think you'll be getting in touch with Piper again soon? Maybe find out why she didn't come?"

  "Oh, heck, I don't know about that," she said, too quickly. "I can't talk sense into her, never could."

  After a quiet moment, Minerva shooed Dill, Walter, John, and George to the porch. She had some cleaning up to do. The men walked out, silent, each one patting George's back while they went.

  The snow had stopped and a sharp chill filled the night air. She looked out and saw through the cloudy haze of the porch light they had pulled on heavy coats or jackets. George tugged a hood over his head and stood with hands in his pockets, looking out at the moon's sad face. John, Dill, and Walter stood chatting. When they spoke, their breath formed smoky hazes, their faces pinched by the cold.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Piper, this is your mother," Minerva said. "Don't hang up."

  There was a long pause on the other end. "I won't." Piper said.

  Minerva waited for her to add something else. She stroked Lew's tummy while she snoozed in her lap. "I hope you're feeling better." Piper remained silent. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Look, Mother, I'm doing okay, and...I couldn't make it last night. I got busy. I know I said I'd be there, but I was busy."

  Minerva pursed her lips and her fingers thumped the little belly. Lew stirred, causing her to realize she was petting too hard. "Sorry," she mumbled to the pooch. "Piper, now don't you lie to me, I—"

  "I'm not lying to you, and I don't want to fight. I'm thinking about going to the movies, just to get my mind off things."

  Her nose wrinkled and she rubbed it. "This early in the day?" She listened to Piper's breathing on the other end. "I forgive you for snooping through the house, if that helps any."

  "I'm not asking for your forgiveness."

  "Oh, I know," she said, waving her hand as if Piper could see her. "But I'm giving it to you anyhow. I'd like to see you if I could."

  "What would be the point?" Piper asked.

  "So I could give you your valentine, and your cookies. I saved two for you...they're your favorite."

  "George gave me the valentine. He left it in the mailbox this morning. I don't need any cookies. And thank you for the money; I really appreciate it. I didn't know you had any money saved."

  "You're welcome. I'm glad I could give it to you. The mail came there already?"

  "No, Mother," Minerva thought Piper's words came out too quick and impatient. "I saw the red flag up on the mailbox. George delivered it, not the post office."

  "Let's meet tomorrow at the park...Want to?" Minerva tried to sound light-hearted, thinking sounding cheery would help. She began to feel the disheartening impact of speaking with Piper in this situation and in this manner. She never kn
ew how her daughter would respond to anything she said, and she never liked hearing Piper sound impatient with her. She wanted things to be good after all they've been through lately. Maybe it was time she tried getting along with Piper.

  "No. I can't."

  Minerva didn't let the answer sink in, not yet. She had vowed to herself she wouldn't talk about it, but found herself asking anyway. "What were you looking for in the house?"

  "I've got to go now," Piper said.

  "Wait, don't hang up," Minerva said, slowing down. "I'll let you go if you answer me that one question."

  "You know why, Mother. I'm sure George and John told you already. Anyway, I didn't find anything."

  "I wanted to see if you'd tell me." That was it. She wanted Piper to tell her, to admit what she did, to apologize for it, to have some kind of remorse for feeling this way about her.

  "I was looking for something to give to Davis."

  Minerva wanted to react, but she caught herself. She had already known the answer, but hearing her daughter say it caused her blood to boil. She would try to keep calm... keep calm...and see where this goes. "I see." Minerva cleared her throat. "Did you find anything?"

  "No, I already told you I didn't. George would have told you, and I'm sure Davis would be at your door by now."

  "Okay, we can let it go now, can't we? Let's meet tomorrow at the park. Would ten in the morning be good?" Minerva asked. She didn't want to talk about what her daughter had been looking for. It was too uncomfortable for her. "We can meet at the table we used to barbecue at, the one with the little duck pond in front?" Something inside Minerva feared Piper's answer and she continued, speaking faster. "When you were little you liked that duck pond you'd try to play and crawl in it but we would drag you out and then John would—"

  "I'll meet you there, Mom."

  Minerva patted her own leg, scooped Lew to her bosom, and kissed her wet nose. "Good." She wanted to say something else, say many things, she wanted to reach through the phone and hug Piper. She wanted to take back this year, or that year, or any other year or moment. She wanted to hold Piper's small, doll-like fingers in her hand again. She wanted her daughter back. That's what she'd always wanted, in spite of things. "I'm sorry."