Cold Tea on a Hot Day

by Matlock, Curtiss Ann

  Marilee, after the initial surprise, told herself she had been awaiting such a visit. Anita was given to showing up when she felt like it. Listening to Anita’s and Corrine’s voices, softly talking, coming from the dining room, she felt a stab of fear. Was Anita going to take Corrine away?

  Parker had been so right; she had not wanted to deal with this happening. For an instant she felt as if her brain were sizzling and she might just go all to pieces.

  With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and put the hot pot of coffee on a tray, with cups and saucers, cream and sugar, glasses of juice for the children, and her best cloth napkins. She carried it all in to the table.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a coffee cake or anything. I planned to go shopping this evenin’.” It was lunchtime. She could not feed them peanut butter and jelly, which she had planned for her and the children. “Would you two like pizza? I could order it in.”

  “Oh, we don’t need anything, Marilee. Don’t fuss.” Anita flashed a smile bright as a camera bulb. Anita was as beautiful as ever, thoroughly and expertly made up, hair shining, clothes as if they came from Neiman-Marcus, which she had always managed, even when unemployed. She laughed gaily. “Louis doesn’t eat sweets anyway.”

  Louis, who drove a Jaguar and wore a large diamond ring on his little finger, looked like nothing softer than well-done steak ever entered his mouth.

  Marilee passed out the cups of coffee and tried to ignore that her hair was pulled back in a band, and she wore a T-shirt and sweatpants.

  “My car would never have made this trip,” Anita said. “But I wanted to see my baby—” she stroked Corrine’s hair “—so Louis said he would bring me. We can’t stay…just this afternoon, and we have to get back. Louis has a court case tomorrow, and I’ve got to be back at work.”

  No mention of taking Corrine with her.

  Marilee studied her sister’s face, then looked over to see Corrine’s dark eyes moving anxiously back and forth from Anita to the dark-haired, totally impassive Louis.

  Willie Lee came and showed his Aunt Anita his dog and his fresh bucket of worms dug just that morning. When she asked how he kept the worms alive, he told her he let them go every night in the garden. “But I keep Munro with me. He sleeps with me. He is my dog. Some people tried to take him away, but they did not get him.”

  “Well…that’s good,” Anita said.

  “Who tried to take Munro, Willie Lee?” Marilee asked, puzzled about the comment. She could not recall any such incident.

  “Oh, it was the dogcatcher came by,” Corrine put in, “while you were in the florist…remember? We told them that Munro was our dog.”

  “Yes, they were try-ing to catch my dog,” Willie Lee said.

  “I’m hungry,” Corrine said, sliding off her chair. “I’m going to make us sandwiches, okay, Aunt Marilee? Willie Lee can help me. You all stay there and talk.”

  She and Willie Lee, followed by Munro, went into the kitchen. Marilee saw Anita leaning over, following her daughter with her eyes, until the swinging door came swinging closed. Then Anita and her Louis and Marilee all looked at each other, in the manner of wondering what in the world to talk about now that they were left on their own.

  Marilee picked up the pot of coffee. It was still warm; she had made it strong, and now it was thick as sludge, but Louis pushed his cup forward. He did not use cream or sugar. He had yet to say a full sentence, she realized.

  “So you are an attorney, Louis?” Marilee asked, surveying him, wondering what sort of bad habits were hidden beneath his fine clothes and appearance.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes coming up and meeting hers in a surprisingly straightforward manner. “I work for the county prosecutor’s office.”

  “Ah. Sounds interesting.” She experienced a sort of attack of liking for the man. It came from his steady gaze and steady tone of voice.

  “You’re not wearing a ring,” Anita said, as Marilee spooned sugar into her warm coffee.

  At Marilee’s look, Anita said, “Mama called me last Friday and said you and Parker are gettin’ married. Where’s your ring? Didn’t Parker give you a ring?”

  Bingo. This was the reason for the sudden visit, and for hauling up here with her Mr. Stud-man.

  “Parker and I called it off,” Marilee said.

  Anita looked startled. “Called it off? But didn’t you just get engaged last Thursday?”

  “Wednesday. And we called it off Saturday, after his birthday party. We realized our error quickly.” She did not know what possessed her, but she looked straight at Louis and said, “So, Louis, are you and Anita getting married?”

  He shook his head, and it was his turn to surprise her, when he said, “I’m already married.”

  Marilee, who had just sipped her coffee, almost spat it out.

  They had long been separated by Anita’s bent for the “high life,” and Marilee’s bent for the quiet side. Anita, in anger, went her way, and Marilee, in anger, went hers, and every once in a while, when Anita needed Marilee, the two got together. Why was it Anita never seemed to think that maybe sometimes Marilee needed her? Maybe she did think it and didn’t care, and this caused Marilee’s stomach to knot.

  She was not surprised that Anita intended to leave Corrine with her indefinitely. She was a little surprised that Anita was moving with Louis to New Orleans.

  “He’s takin’ a position there with a private law firm…a big, important firm,” she said, and reached up to break a leaf off a low-hanging branch of the elm tree.

  They were out in the yard, walking around the garden, just the two of them alone. Standing there, with a slice of late-afternoon sun playing on her dark hair, there was about Anita the air of a woman on the edge. Marilee could not put her finger on it. Her sister had always been too much, she thought. Too beautiful, too sensitive, too wild and passionate, all too much for her small body and unstable spirit.

  “And what will you do?” Marilee wanted to shake Anita. “You’re going to up and leave your good job at the courthouse?”

  “Louis will see if I can get on at the firm.” Anita, withdrawing from Marilee’s annoyance, played the leaf around in the air. “I have experience now in the legal field, and offices always need experienced secretaries. If the firm doesn’t want me, there’ll be somewhere I can work.”

  “You are not going to marry him, but you are going to base your life on his. So, where does his wife fit in?”

  “Oh, don’t be so righteous, Marilee. His wife has left him but doesn’t want a divorce and will make it real nasty if he tries it. Is your life any better? Stuck here in this one-horse town, workin’ like a dog to keep this little cottage. Lordy.”

  “This little cottage is apparently good enough for your daughter.”

  Anita’s eyes flashed at her. “I’m not you, Marilee, and I never will be.”

  “Thank God” hung in the air.

  Anita’s eyes were pinpoints. “I need a man in my life, Marilee. I don’t want to be a woman alone. I don’t see any future at all in that. At least, not a future worth livin’.”

  Marilee, gazing into her sister’s sultry countenance, thought that she agreed a lot with the sentiment, if not fully, but that it would do no good to discuss her views.

  In an instant Anita turned all sweetness, as if turning on a faucet, and went on about how the cottage and Valentine really were most suited to raising children, and how Marilee was a much better mother than she herself could be. Marilee realized that whenever anyone wanted her to do something, they would praise her as being so much better at it than themselves.

  “I need time to catch up,” Anita said. “I’m going to keep saving, and in another nine months or so, maybe I can have a proper home in New Orleans for Corrine. Until then, I’m so grateful to you, Marilee. I know Corrine is well taken care of…much better off than she would be with me trying to get my life established.”

  Marilee, who had been doing some figuring of her own, said, “You tell Corrin
e your plans.”

  “Oh, won’t you? You are so much better at it than I am.” She cast her sweet, little-girl smile.

  “No.” She did not feel guilty for her stance, either.

  Anita and Corrine went for a walk to have a talk; Willie Lee went out back to put his worms to bed in the garden. This left Marilee to entertain Louis. Neither of them knew what to say to the other, although this did not seem to bother Louis. Possibly not much at all could bother Louis.

  Just then there came the sound of the ice cream truck. Marilee said, “Would you like a fudge Popsicle from the ice-cream man?”

  A look of delight bloomed on the man’s chiseled face. “Yeah…I haven’t had one of those in years.”

  Marilee grabbed her purse and ran outside to wave down the colorful, slow-moving van that came along sounding its gay tune. It occurred to her that her world was beginning to revolve around food. It did seem to soothe the savage beast.

  When she came back in the house, Louis stood at her desk, the telephone to his ear. He thrust the receiver at her. “It’s for you.”

  “Thank you.” She handed him his fudge Popsicle, said into the phone, “Just a minute,” and went to put the other Popsicles she had purchased into the freezer.

  Back again at the phone, she was startled to hear Tate’s low drawl come across the line. “Hi, Miss Marilee, this is Tate. Who was that who answered the phone? He said his name was Louis.”

  “Yes. Louis.” She had the perverse inclination to not explain.

  “Who is Louis?”

  She was being silly. “My sister’s boyfriend.” She looked over to see Louis licking his fudge Popsicle like a little boy. It was an arresting sight. For an instant Marilee could clearly see Anita’s point about wanting a man.

  “Oh. So your sister is visitin’?”

  “Yes. She came up for the day.”

  He paused. She thought to say: Parker and I are no longer engaged.

  Good grief, she could not say it straight out. And why should she tell him? She would feel the biggest fool. He had told her that Parker was not for her. She hated to admit that he had been right.

  “How is the city council election coverage coming?” he asked.

  “Tammy is doing the coverage today, and I have interviews with both candidates in the morning, after the firm results. We’ll get it in the Wednesday afternoon edition. Are you having a nice vacation?”

  “Of sorts.” He did not seem thrilled. She was glad, and felt silly.

  He said, “So everything is goin’ along all right up there—no hitches?”

  “None that I know of.” She supposed her called-off engagement was a hitch in things going along. At least a change of direction. She could slip it in now.

  She didn’t.

  She never did say anything about it. She and Tate, both obviously at a loss for words, said goodbye and hung up. That she had not told him about her canceled engagement was annoying. It really was not so big a deal, though. Why would he care?

  But she did think he would care. She hoped he would care, and this hope made her quite annoyed.

  Louis was over at the table eating his fudge Popsicle with great concentration, probably in the same manner he would grill a defendant, or perhaps lick a woman.

  She went and called Willie Lee and got their Popsicles and joined Louis, all three sitting there having a pretty grand time licking when Anita and Corrine came in the door. Corrine did not want her Popsicle. Anita ate only a bite of hers before giving hers over to Louis, who licked it like a boy.

  Standing at the bottom of the porch steps, Corrine watched her mother drive away. Aunt Marilee stood beside her, with a hand on her shoulder. Her mother called from the car, “Love you, honey,” and waved and acted like she was about to cry. Corrine stood there and did not cry. She would not cry about it.

  When the car was gone, she felt her Aunt Marilee looking at her. She hated her aunt looking, and she hated everybody.

  “Come on, Willie Lee.” She did not hate Willie Lee. Willie Lee was the one person on earth she loved, and in that minute it was like every bit of love she had inside focused on him to such a degree she just about lost her breath. “We’ll finish putting your worms to bed.”

  She turned and went straight through the house and out the back door, with Willie Lee and Munro following behind. She got down on her knees in the dirt. Put her hands in it. It was just about too dark to see any worms, but she wanted to dig. She could feel Aunt Marilee come to look out at them every now and then.

  It was understandable that her mother would leave her here with Aunt Marilee. Her mother said she wanted to get them a nice house in New Orleans. Her mother was moving very far this time; usually it was just across town, leaving because she couldn’t pay the rent, or was embarrassed because of one of her boyfriends. Corrine wanted to stay with Aunt Marilee; she liked it here. It was okay what her mother did. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

  Marilee was at the kitchen table, jotting a grocery list; actually, making up a grocery list was something to do to let her sit at the table and do nothing. Her energy seemed at a low ebb. It was as if Anita had taken it all away. She kept trying to figure out what she should say to Corrine, if anything. Corrine seemed perfectly contained, not upset at all. Perhaps Marilee was blowing things all out of proportion.

  Corrine, all bathed and in fresh pajamas, came into the kitchen and asked if she could have a juice drink from the refrigerator.

  “Sure, honey.” Marilee, trying not to appear to stare, noticed Corrine had dark circles under her eyes.

  Corrine got the juice, uncapped the bottle and threw the lid in the trash. Marilee went back to trying to make a grocery list.

  Then, “Aunt Marilee, why doesn’t my mother want me?”

  Marilee’s head came up to see Corrine standing there, her bottom lip trembling.

  In an instant Marilee had Corrine in her arms, and she held Corrine, until Corrine pushed away, choking somewhat and gasping for breath. Possibly, Marilee thought, she had been holding her niece way too tight, in her great urge to absorb the child’s pain and make everything all right with a hug.

  Wiping the tears away, Corrine turned and took up her juice. “I’m sorry…it doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, yes, it does matter.” Marilee spoke so forcefully that she startled both herself and Corrine.

  All right, God, tell me what to say.

  She took Corrine’s hand. “It is not that your mother does not want you. That’s not it at all. As a single woman, your mother is in a difficult position. She does not have the skills to earn a salary that can support you and her at an adequate level.”

  Corrine’s dark eyes were on her.

  Marilee closed her mouth and searched for elusive honesty. “Corrine, it isn’t about wanting you or not wanting you. It is about your mother being your mother. None of it is about you. It is about your mother and her needs, and what happens is that you are caught in that. You have not caused your mother to make this choice, and you cannot change it.

  “And really, your mother is making a decision that benefits all of us. God knew I wanted more children, and this is His way of letting me have a daughter. It is perfect. Your mother wants you to have a good solid home, and I want you to be here with me. I’m so glad you are here, Corrine.”

  She tugged her niece to her again and attempted to hug everything right, but trying not to do so with quite as much force. Corrine accepted this.

  Feeling as if she had yet not gotten everything said that needed saying, just before Corrine went to bed, Marilee gave it another go.

  “I want to tell you something important, and that is that every feeling you have matters. When you are angry, it matters. When you feel hurt, it matters, the same as when you are happy. We matter because we are human beings who are children of God. You matter, I matter, Willie Lee matters, Mr. Tate matters…each person on earth.” Suddenly, with startling clarity, Marilee knew that she was saying this to herself, to the litt
le girl who still lived inside and who had to hear the words. “Don’t ever again say that you, or how you feel, does not matter.”

  “Yes, Aunt Marilee.” Corrine’s dark eyes blinked impassively.

  Marilee, persistent for her own need as much as for what she thought her niece needed, again hugged Corrine, and after a brief hesitation, Corrine hugged her back.

  Later Marilee thought of how upset Parker would have been at the turn of events. And how happy she was at it. She felt a little guilty, for it meant she was glad Anita had abdicated her role as mother. That was the truth of it, Lord. Forgive me. I am glad.

  It had to be done. Marilee had put it off as long as she could. She telephoned her mother to tell her that she and Parker would not be getting married after all.

  “Hi, Mom. How was your trip to Las Vegas?”

  “Wore me out. We had a good time, but it wore me out. We didn’t get home until noon yesterday. We decided to stay over Sunday night, because Carl and Charlie Linford got to playing slot machines, and Carl got on a roll. He just started winnin’ and winnin’. I played, too, and I won three hundred dollars, but Carl won two thousand, so he told me to go change our plane reservations. I didn’t want to do it, but I did, and when I came back, Carl had won another five thousand dollars, at the slot machine. His machine hit some premium number. When that happens a light goes off on your machine, and a guy will come over and give you a ticket for the money. When I got there, a crowd was all around where Carl had been playing, and I thought at first that he’d had a heart attack.”

  When her mother paused for a breath, Marilee, quite impressed, said, “That is just wonderful, Mom.”

  “Well, you know Carl had to keep on then. He gave me five hundred of it, and he took the rest. I played the machines for a while, but then just went up to bed, and Carl played way into the night, until they wouldn’t let him play anymore, because he’d had too much to drink. He had won another four thousand, though.”