“I don't know. Let's get our stuff and go home.”
“Is there anything else you need?” Tom asked, as I staggered along beside him.
“Maybe a body bag,” I suggested.
We made quick work of the shopping, and Tom decided to wait on the laptop. I spotted Beth on our way to the checkout. She waved, and I smiled, although I felt like I was going to die.
“Thanks for yesterday,” she said.
“You're welcome. Beth, this is my husband. Tom, this is Beth Mulpepper,” I said, waiting for my husband's reaction.
He fumbled, but only slightly. I told Beth I'd see her on Monday.
Unless I'm dead.
Tom paid for our purchases, while I tried to remain conscious.
Once we were back in the Jeep, I slammed half the Pepto, which turned out to be a huge mistake. We had to pull over halfway home, and I ended up yacking it all up on the side of the road.
“Honey, do you need a doctor?” Tom asked, as I lay reclined in the passenger seat.
“No. I need to go home.”
“Okay.”
He obliged, and took me home. Fifteen minutes later, I was settled on the couch, where I spent the entire afternoon. I read every story in the folder, watched Lifetime movies, and snuggled with the kittens. Tom blew up balloons and I drew frightening faces which, in my altered state, turned out more terrifying than either of us could have expected.
“Okay, I'm going to go put them out there,” he said, and I opened my eyes with a start. I couldn't believe how weak I felt, and I wondered if I should have taken Tom up on his offer to get me to a doctor.
“Honey, I hate to say this, because I know how hard you tried last week, but you look positively awful,” he said.
“I look like I feel. Maybe it's Bird Flu,” I said weakly, and Tom chuckled. We'd sufficiently recovered a part of our youth, at least the part where I said ridiculous things, and Tom failed to hide his amusement.
“Honey?” he said, and I opened my eyes, unaware I'd closed them.
“Hmm,” I replied, lazily.
“I'm going to the store to get you some soup. I'll be back long before any kids might come.” He picked up the cordless phone and laid it by my side. “In case you need anything.”
Like 911?
I wasn't sure how long Tom was gone, as I was positively comatose in his absence. I remained that way until late in the night, and vaguely recall him carrying me to our bed. I was asleep again almost immediately.
Mandy Patinkin stood in the middle of my yard in the moonlight. The ghoulish balloons bobbed in the wind.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Seriously?”
“You find this odd?” he asked.
“Not so much. My neighbor might be a serial killer. I'd bet the farm there are bodies in his basement.”
“I wouldn't know. I'm not here for him. I'm here for you.”
“Are you going to profile me?”
“Have you killed anyone?”
“I think about it now and then,” I admitted.
“Mona? What are you doing in the road in your pajamas?” Tom asked from the porch.
“Mandy stopped by.”
“Who?” he asked, coming toward me.
“Mandy,” I said, pointing to the spot where my guest had just stood. “Where did he go?”
“Where did who go, honey?” Tom asked, just before I fainted.
Fourteen
Monday
A couple of days with a stomach bug makes
all other problems seem trivial.
As it turned out, I did not have Bird Flu. I had a stomach bug, was severely dehydrated, and spent an entire night in the hospital with a frightened husband by my side. If I'd been remotely conscious, I am confident this would have ticked me off tremendously. Six days after my fabulous makeover, there I was, deathly pale, wearing a green hospital gown, a red hospital bracelet, and yellow tape on my IV. I was like a half-dead rainbow.
Twenty-four hours later, I was on the mend and able to stand, but didn't feel well enough to stand at the express line for seven hours. I milked the hospital thing for all it was worth, and managed to buy myself two extra days off from my blue-aproned responsibilities.
It was Monday, so I saw Tom off, and crashed on the couch, where I remained until noon. By mid-afternoon I felt pretty good. I attributed this to a number of things. Tom had purchased some lovely breakfast tea, of which I'd consumed two cups. I'd successfully kept down an entire piece of toast, crust included, and had enjoyed two full hours of People's Court, reminding me I was far less screwed up than I thought.
My worried husband checked on me numerous times with text messages. Every time the phone vibrated, a kitten pounced on it. I felt positively adored, and the cats were having a blast.
The most recent text message had come in ten minutes ago, and this one peaked my interest. It differed from the others, and I thought it over as I sipped tea while Duke climbed the curtain behind me.
“Get down, buddy,” I reprimanded with so little force the cat didn't even blink. I read the text one more time.
I'll be home around five or so. I forgot to tell you about the stuff in the garage. It may seem strange, but I think this could work for us. Love you.
“Hmm, I said, calculating the distance between the couch and the garage. I decided to check it out.
There was nothing stopping me, save my appearance. I couldn't imagine walking out the front door in the state I was in, so I took a quick shower and rinsed away the crud from my bout with a forty-eight hour flu. I didn't wash my hair, and figured I'd worry about that later when Tom would be on hand, in case anyone had to call for an EMT.
I dressed in my worn jeans, and Tom's old college sweatshirt. I added a baseball hat just in case the mailman came, Thurman was skulking about, or it was pouring crap.
I picked up a half-masticated yarn ball and chucked it down the basement stairs. The kittens followed it like two teenage girls chasing Justin Bieber, and I closed the door. I headed outside and took a deep breath of cool autumn air. It was great to be outdoors, and I found myself feeling almost human again.
I carefully descended the stairs, and headed toward the garage. The yard was free of birds, and I wondered if maybe they'd left for good. I didn't think so, but at the moment, I just didn't care. Out of sight, out of mind!
I reached the garage and once inside, hit the light switch. Nothing.
“Idiots.”
There were fixtures for eight bulbs, but we were idiots when it came to this kind of thing, and normally didn't replace a bulb until each one had died. The windows were soiled with fifty years of filth, and only tiny specks of light filtered into the cramped space. I grabbed a flashlight, flipped it on, panned across the three-stall area, and nearly lost control of my bladder. The garage was filled with people, and numerous eyes stared back at me.
“HAIL MARY FULL OF AMBER WAVES OF GRAIN!”
My terrified mind boggled the intended prayer. I spun around, ran headlong into the closed door and damn-near knocked myself out. I bravely repeated my sweep with the flashlight, and scanned the army assembled in the crowded storage space.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
My garage was filled with naked mannequins, and I had to wonder what the hell my husband was up to this time.
I checked my watch. It was only quarter past three, but this couldn't wait. I flung the door open and closed it behind me. A man in silhouette stood in the middle of the yard.
Mandy?
“Mandy?” I said aloud.
“Nope.”
“Can I help you with something?” I asked.
“I'm Robbie Siggs. Tommy's brother.”
“Oh, Robbie. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. It's been a while.”
“A long while. You look just like you did at the wedding,” he commented, and I inhaled so sharply it's a wonder I didn't suck up leaves.
<
br /> Seriously?
I looked at my old sweatshirt, felt sweat beading under the worn baseball hat, and my dirty hair itched like hell. I'd spent a hundred bucks on hair and makeup that day I exchanged vows with Tom Siggs, and I had looked like this?
Robbie grinned at me. “What I meant to say is you haven't aged a day.”
“Nice recovery,” I offered. “Would you like to come in? Tom, or Tommy, as you called him, won't be home from work for another couple of hours.”
“I'd like that,” he said, and we headed toward the porch. “You have a job, Mona?” he asked as we walked.
“Yeah. I work at WalMart.”
“WalMart. Nice. How'd you manage to get a day off?”
“Bomb threat,” I said, and Robbie chuckled.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“No. I just got over a stomach bug,” I explained, and Robbie took a few steps in the opposite direction, widening the distance between us. “Did you still want to come in?”
“I'd love to.”
“So, what brings you back to Bucks County?” I asked, as we stood on the porch.
“I need to check on Mom, catch up with everybody, and maybe work for a while before I head out again,” Robbie explained.
I assumed Robbie didn't know about the payload of money his father had left him. It wasn't my place to tell him, so I didn't.
“What exactly do you do?” I asked my brother-in-law.
“A little bit of everything, but I've been primarily working in construction.”
“Construction?” I asked, as bells and whistles began going off inside my head.
“Yup.”
“Robbie, you have come to the right place,” I said, thinking the appearance of Robbie was the first evidence of a loving God I'd seen in a long time.
“Oh?”
“Why don't you come in and see what you think of this fixer-upper.”
“I get coffee with a consult,” he said, and I smiled.
“Deal.”
I gave Robbie a mini tour. He grimaced from time to time, but was kind enough to keep negative comments to himself. We wrapped up the entire critique in fifteen minutes, and I put on a pot of coffee while he sat at the kitchen table.
Something crashed in the basement, and we both looked at the door.
“Poltergeist?” Robbie asked.
“Kitten. Two, actually. Would you mind if I let them in?” I asked.
“Not at all. I love animals.”
“My friend died. I adopted two of her kittens,” I explained.
“Sounds like something you'd do,” he commented, and I just looked at him. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice thing to say, but how did he know? I'd hardly spent five minutes with this guy prior to today. As far as he knew, I could have been an ax murderer.
“I don't want to sound like a jerk, but how would you know that?” I asked Robbie.
“Tommy talks about you all the time.”
“Oh?”
“He said you're terrific, but a bit of a knucklehead. He said you're the sweetest, craziest, prettiest red-head a man could ever hope to love.”
“Robbie......, are you making that up? Don't shit me, now. After all, I could slip arsenic into your coffee.”
Robbie laughed, and didn't look at all concerned. “Nope. Not shitting you. In fact, if you were anyone else, I'd make you drink the first cup. That is exactly what I'd expect you to say.”
I laughed.
“My brother really loves you,” Robbie added.
I was so moved I was speechless. I opened the basement door, and stepped back. “I really love your brother,” I said softly. “He's a good man.”
“He is. He's a lucky man, too.”
“You can lay off the compliments, Robbie. I was only kidding about the arsenic.”
Robbie chuckled.
“Kitties?” I said, sticking my head into the darkened entry way, leading to the moldy cavern beneath us.
“Want me to go check on them? That way I could look at the foundation,” Robbie offered, and I accepted graciously. Robbie disappeared down the stairs, and I went into my bedroom to call Tom and let him know his brother had surfaced.
“Hey,” I said, when Tom answered.
“Hey. You all right?” he asked.
“I'm fine, although the mannequins scared the shit out of me.”
“I planned to tell them about you,” he said, sounding distracted, and I laughed until I felt heat in my face. “That didn't come out right, did it?”
“No, but I knew what you meant.”
“Mona, I hate to cut you off, but I'm in the middle of something, and I want to get out of here on time. Can we talk about the mannequins when I get home?”
Before I could respond, Robbie yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
“Is there a man there?” Tom asked, sounding a bit like the madman from the bathroom fiasco.
“Yeah. I wasn't calling about the mannequins. Robbie's here. I just wanted you to know.”
“Robbie?”
“Your brother.”
“I know who Robbie is. I'm just surprised he's there.”
“Mona! You have to see this!” Robbie yelled, and I walked back into the kitchen. “I found your kittens,” he said, and I almost dropped the phone. The kittens were hopelessly entangled in the old yarn, and had managed to tie themselves together. Four beady eyes peeked through the purple, pink, and white wad.
“I'll be damned,” I whispered, forgetting that Tom was on the phone.
“What's wrong?” my husband asked. “Another bird?” For a moment, I couldn't answer. I just kept staring at the varigated mess in Robbie's hands.
“The kittens are tied together,” I said, feeling dumbfounded.
“Jeez, Mona. You tied them together? Why?”
“I didn't tie them, Tom. They got tangled in some of Aunt Ida's yarn.”
“Okay, I'll be home shortly after five. I'm out early today, but I'm gonna hit Best Buy to pick out a laptop and a CD player. Tell Robbie I said hello and I'll see him later.”
“He says he's in construction now. I imagine I could keep him busy,” I said, and Robbie smiled.
Tom laughed. “All right, babe. Talk to you in a bit.”
I hung up the phone as Robbie carefully released the kittens with a knife he had in his pocket. They flew down the hall to my bedroom, and I followed.
“I'll be right back,” I said.
The kittens were on my pillow. Their eyes were frightened and I could tell they were pretty freaked out. “No more yarn,” I said, bending to plant a soft kiss on each black-and-white head. They scrambled under the covers, and I headed back down the hall.
“So, you just move in?” Robbie asked when I returned.
“Yeah, about ten years ago.”
Robbie smiled genuinely, without condescension. “I noticed a lot of boxes.”
“I inherited the house from my great aunt. She had a little problem with collecting,” I explained. “Nice kitchen, eh?” I asked, and he smiled.
“Everything can be fixed.” Robbie started knocking on the wall, and had covered a span of about three feet when his fist went through unexpectedly. I laughed. “Wow, thin walls. I'm sorry about that. I was just looking for studs.”
“Mine's at work,” I said, and he laughed.
“Tommy Siggs, a stud? I guess I have been away a while,” he said, focusing his attention on the gaping hole in the kitchen wall. “All right, back to this mess I've made. You need all new sheet rock in here. The walls are paper thin, and a lot of what's here is rotted. How much of the original charm do you hope to maintain?”
Charm?
“I'm not worried about charm. I'd like to bring it into this century, and do it properly. That's my biggest concern, but you can talk to your brother about it when he gets home,” I explained.
Robbie and I talked for over an hour. I learned he'd spent the last year building and restoring houses that had been destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. This did
a lot for improving the way I felt about my mundane life, but I was proud of him, and I told him so.
At just past five-thirty, Tom came home with another of Joe's pizzas, for which I was grateful. I didn't have to cook dinner, and I was forever indebted to Joe for keeping us alive.
We would have starved to death without him.
Robbie wrapped his arms around Tom and lifted him off the floor. “Too long, my brother. Too darned long,” Robbie said. They shook hands enthusiastically, and Tom pulled his brother into another hug.
“What the heck have you been up to?” Tom asked, and I migrated over to the pizza box for a good whiff. I'd already heard the Hurricane Katrina story, and as much as I admired Robbie for his contribution to the relief efforts, I didn't want to hear about them again. I grabbed some paper plates, and set them on the table, just as Tom began to ask about Robbie's love life. Finding the new topic of interest, I hung around and listened.
“So, how's your life, man? You seeing anyone?” Tom asked.
“Been in a relationship for about two years now. We met in New Orleans.”
“Good for you,” Tom said, getting up to get the pizza. “So, tell us about her. What's her name?”
Robbie paused for a moment, “Jason,” he said, and my life flashed before my eyes as my husband lost his grip on Joe's pizza, and the darn thing plunged to the floor.
Fifteen
There is something beautiful about a person who is brave
enough to show the world his true self.
By some miracle, the pizza remained intact. My husband, on the other hand, did not.
He walked away without saying a word, and a moment later I heard his footsteps on the porch. I was left alone in the kitchen with Robbie, who had just bravely come out of the closet to his big brother.
“That went well,” I said, trying to provoke a smile.
“I think so,” Robbie said, and I got the grin I wanted. I went to the fridge, got two beers, and handed one to Robbie. I knew alcohol was a bad idea, but I popped one open anyhow. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
“Tell me about Jason,” I said.
Robbie smiled, and his expression evolved into one of sheer dreaminess. It was obvious he was in love and wanted to tell someone about it. I had no problem with Robbie's choice of lovers, so I elected myself to the position of listener.
Becoming Mona Lisa Page 12