A Woman Lost

by T. B. Markinson

  “Oh, I’m trying to process this information.” She looked confused.

  I stared at her in bewilderment. Who can’t figure out which size marshmallows they want in their hot chocolate? “I think the small ones would be best,” I say, grabbing the bag and smiling at her. “Do you want to pick out the next CD?” I shouted as I walked back into the front room.

  Sarah followed me and handed me a Pearl Jam CD from the stack. I looked at the title: Vitology. I slipped it in and we both sat on the couch, sipping our hot chocolates, listening to the music.

  Several songs later, Sarah paused the music.

  “So you didn’t buy any audiobooks?”

  I shook my head and sipped up a sweet swirl of marshmallow. She stared at me with an addled look and then hit play again on the remote. She looked shell-shocked. I rather enjoyed that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was the day before Thanksgiving and somehow I had let Maddie talk me into staying with her and Peter for several days. Sarah was with me, too. We arrived Wednesday morning and were soon preparing to watch a marathon of Christmas movies. Sarah and Maddie were feverishly setting out an array of snacks, Peter was upstairs working, and I sat on a barstool, reading a book.

  “Oh, shit! I forgot to grab the peppers for the nachos,” Maddie said, frowning.

  Sarah started to fossick around under bags, plates, dishtowels, and God knows what else on the counter. “Are you sure they’re not under something?”

  “No. I plumb forgot them. I would remember.” She patted her pockets.

  We had been to the store a few hours earlier. Why would they be in her pockets? I thought. “Can you make them without the peppers?” I asked, glancing at her over my book.

  Maddie shook her head adamantly. “Nope. I want those peppers.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed my car keys. “Tell me what kind and I can go get some.”

  Maddie’s eyes sparkled and then she turned to Sarah. “Sarah, would you mind if I went with Lizzie? She can bore us both, reciting historical facts or the Gettysburg address”‌—‌she batted an eye at me‌—‌“but a cook she’s not. Besides, I don’t know the names of the peppers, I only recognize them.” Maddie grabbed her jacket and purse.

  Sarah laughed. Surprisingly, she seemed happy that Maddie was going with me. She never showed any signs of jealousy, and that bothered me. For days, she had been so excited to be included in my family time over the holidays. When Peter invited her mother, too, I thought she was going to piss herself. I wondered if Maddie had convinced Peter to invite Sarah’s mom. Rose had already been booked on a cruise with friends, so she couldn’t make it, although she was relieved Sarah and I had some place to go. The past couple of weeks at home had been completely stress-free and enjoyable. And there was no chatter about buying a house. Gotta love the holidays. Cheer was everywhere.

  Maddie climbed into the passenger seat. “Sarah seems so different this visit.”

  “I think she’s really enjoying being included in my family.” I checked the rearview mirror and pulled out of the driveway. “For so long I think she thought I was an orphan or something.”

  “And I’m sure you didn’t fill her in or anything. I wish I could get Peter excited about something … anything.” Her voice trembled a little.

  Not knowing what to do, I gripped the steering wheel tighter and concentrated on the icy road ahead. It had been snowing lightly for most of the day.

  Maddie rescued me. “I think it’s great you drive an old Toyota Camry … and the missing hubcap is so you.” She chuckled.

  I knew she wasn’t being rude; she had a knack for saying what she thought.

  “Hey, this baby is paid off, and it has gone all over the country with me.” I patted the steering wheel. “This is the best road-trippin’ car around.”

  “I didn’t know you liked road-trips. Peter wants us to fly everywhere‌—‌first class, of course. But I love to hit the road‌—‌see the country for myself.” She pretended to drive, turning an imaginary wheel and making a vroom-vroom sound. Sometimes, I wished I had an ounce of her charisma.

  She hit the eject button on the CD player and I noticed her manicured nails. Then she laughed. “Just checking to see if it was an audiobook.”

  “I told you, I don’t listen to them when Sarah is with me.”

  It was Sarah’s Kings of Leon CD.

  “Any good?” Maddie asked.

  “Sarah really likes it. They aren’t too bad.”

  “Do you think she would mind if I ripped it?”

  I turned to her. “What?”

  Maddie giggled at my innocence. “Not literally. I mean if I made a copy of it.”

  “Oh … yeah. That shouldn’t be a problem at all. Isn’t that stealing?” I peeked at her out of the corner of my eyes.

  She patted my knee. “You’re so adorable sometimes.”

  I felt color flood my face.

  We pulled into the parking lot. Not being much of a shopper, I stopped to look at books while Maddie headed for the produce section. As I rifled through the latest book on Lincoln, she rushed up behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and whispered, “We need to leave. Now.”

  “But what about the pepp‌—‌” I started to ask, but she shushed me. I put the book down when she started pushing me out of the store.

  Both of us slipped and slid across the ice and over to the car. Finally, when we had both taken our seats, I asked what was going on.

  She smiled and pulled a bag out of her jacket pocket. Inside it were two small peppers.

  “You stole the peppers?” My voice cracked. I felt so uncool.

  That made her giggle. “Yeppers! I stole the peppers.”

  “Why did you steal the peppers? Did you forget your wallet?”

  She waved that idea away. “Nah, I never pay for these peppers.” She held the bag up in my face.

  “What do you mean you never pay for peppers?” I looked at her, amazed.

  “I usually only need one. Why pay for such a small pepper?”

  “But there are two peppers in the bag.”

  “I plan on making a lot of nachos. Come on and start the car. Let’s get out of Dodge.”

  I did as she said. “What other things do you steal besides peppers and music?”

  “Nothing. Just peppers. And copying a CD isn’t stealing. Everyone does it.” She opened my glove box and grabbed some Kleenex. “Ha! I knew you would have tissues, grandma.”

  I didn’t let her off the hook. “How in the hell did you come to that? Why peppers?”

  “I don’t know. They are so tiny. I don’t want to pay for something so tiny.” She blew her nose.

  Her logic was so flawed that I didn’t know where to begin. Why didn’t she steal diamonds? They were small and they were worth more. “Does Peter know that you steal peppers?” I asked.

  “Are you crazy? That guy is so uptight.”

  I was still struggling with my sense of ethics, so I barely had time to consider the notion that Maddie didn’t think I was as uptight as Peter.

  “I would love to get you high. I mean, Lizzie, your mind would be like … holy shit.”

  I stared at her. How did we move from hot peppers to pot? I shook my head.

  Before I knew it, we were walking back into the kitchen. Peter was standing over the stove, tasting the chili for the nachos.

  “Did you get the peppers?” Sarah looked up.

  Maddie held up her stolen booty. I watched my brother. How did these two people end up together? Does either of them know the other? So many secrets.

  “That’s great.” Peter placed one hand on Sarah’s shoulder and said, “Maddie makes the most extraordinary nachos. You will never eat anyone else’s nachos ever again.” He looked adoringly at Maddie, who patted him on the cheek as she walked past.

  “Hey, mind if I rip your Kings of Leon CD?” Maddie asked Sarah, as she waved the CD in the air. I hadn’t even noticed her taking it.

  I was about to explain what sh
e meant when Sarah readily agreed. I felt somewhat deflated, but I did enjoy the look of confusion on Peter’s face.

  * * *

  My mouth was on fire. The four of us sat on the floor, watching A Christmas Story and devouring nachos. After each bite, I took a swig of water and then another bite. Swig. Bite. Swig. Bite. Maddie had placed a box of tissues on the table, and Peter had to keep dabbing at his nose.

  “Maddie, what kind of peppers did you get? These are hot.” He licked his lips.

  The two of us burst out laughing. Maddie was in mid-swallow and her laugh turned to a cough as a wedge of corn chip lodged in her throat. She continued laughing, pounding her fist on her chest to dislodge the offending nacho and swallowing the food down.

  Peter and Sarah looked at each other quizzically, neither willing to hazard a guess as to why we were laughing so hard.

  “Do you smoke?” my brother asked her. “I know these two goodie-goodies don’t.” He nodded in the direction of Maddie and me.

  “Sometimes I enjoy a cigarette. Let’s ditch the giggle twins.” Sarah hopped up to go get her sweater.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pause the movie so you won’t miss anything while you relish your cancer sticks,” Maddie shouted, as Peter and Sarah stepped out on the back deck.

  “Do you think they went for a walk?” Maddie asked once several minutes had passed.

  I couldn’t imagine Peter exercising in the fresh air. He was a gym kind of guy. What was the point of working out unless people saw him doing it? I rose and looked out the window. Sarah was walking towards the door, holding something in her arms. Peter was right next to her.

  As soon as she entered, I saw that she was cuddling a black kitten.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Maddie hightailed over to Sarah. “Where in the hell did you find this guy?” She petted its head.

  “Damndest thing. Sarah heard this weird noise in the open space. We went out to investigate. Neither of us could see anything, but we heard this quacking sound around our feet. No wonder we couldn’t see it; it’s as black as midnight.” Peter paused and pointed to the kitten. “Sarah scooped it up, the mangy-looking thing.” He looked disgusted.

  He was right. The kitten did look like it had mange, and its hair was matted and filthy.

  “Well, what do you think, Lizzie?” Sarah put him in my arms. I knew that, somehow, I had just adopted the kitten.

  I held it up, gazed into its face. The kitten batted at my bracelet. “I think we should call it Hank.”

  “What if it’s a girl?”

  “Won’t matter much after we get it fixed.”

  Sarah took it back and hugged it close to her chest.

  I turned to Maddie. “I guess we’re off to the store again. We need to buy Hank a bathroom, and some food.”

  Sarah seemed stunned that I had given in so quickly, but I had to admit that the tiny black ball of fur was adorable, in a tossed-out orphan kinda way.

  Plus, I was on a mission to be nice to Sarah. I wanted her to be happy. If she was happy, I was happy. How much trouble could a cat be?

  * * *

  The next morning, I woke up early and rolled over to look out the window. It was still dark outside. I stayed in bed, unsure what to do. Sarah was snoring next to me. Should I get up and wander around in Peter’s house? I had my bike in the garage, but the roads were icy. I was contemplating risking it when the kitten pounced on my head. Oh well, I was on track to finish the 3,000 miles by the end of January anyway.

  I pulled the scrawny thing off me and sat up in bed. Sarah, the cat lover, didn’t even move. I rolled my eyes and whispered, “Come on, Hank. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

  Cuddling the kitten close to me, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Hank purred in my arms. I noticed one of his ears was torn, an injury that looked to have happened a couple of days ago. After his breakfast, I would do my best to clean up the wound.

  “Uh-oh, is Mr. Reardon hungry?” Maddie was in her pajamas, already pulling stuff out of the oven.

  I hadn’t told her I’d named the kitten after Hank Reardon from Atlas Shrugged. As usual, her instincts were dead on.

  “I guess so,” I said. “He tried to eat my face a minute ago. How long have you been up?”

  “Not long.”

  I poured some kibble into his food bowl. “Liar. Did you even sleep last night?” I looked around the kitchen.

  “Why? Do I look awful?” Maddie patted her hair.

  Actually, I had never seen her look more lovely, but I didn’t say that. As I watched Hank chomp his breakfast, I said, “No, you don’t. But from the aroma in here, you’ve been cooking for quite some time.”

  She flashed a guilty smile. “I don’t know why, but your mother, I mean The Scotch-lady, scares the fucking crap out of me.”

  Her laugh only made me sadder. Damn Peter for not caring. “Well, don’t fret. Hank and I are here to help.”

  “You’re a doll. Both of you.” She smiled at Hank.

  I hoped I looked better than the kitten did. It would take several weeks of food and care to get him in good shape. Not that he noticed; he acted like a prince. I wondered how he ended up on the streets.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “What in the hell is that thing?” hissed The Scotch-lady later that afternoon.

  “Oh that?” Peter glared at me. “That’s Lizzie’s new kitten.”

  Funny, last night Peter was much kinder to the little furball. Now, Hank was sitting in the chair my mother wanted to occupy.

  As I walked over to pick Hank up, I heard an ice cube chink against the side of Mom’s first scotch of the day. She would rather take a drink than pet a kitten.

  Hank jumped out of my arms and scampered upstairs. Maddie, Sarah, and I watched. More than likely, all of us wished we could have hidden upstairs, too‌—‌and the parents had only just arrived.

  My father hadn’t said a word on entering the room. In fact, he hadn’t even said hello, just nodded to acknowledge Sarah and Maddie. Charles Petrie didn’t deign to greet his progeny. Peter and I didn’t matter. Did we ever? Then he waddled over to the chair farthest from the group. I was baffled that he hadn’t just wandered straight up to Peter’s office. Maybe this was his way of spending quality family time with us‌—‌sitting in a leather chair drinking whiskey and reading the Financial Times.

  I never understood why that paper had pink newsprint.

  There they sat: my father reading his paper, my mother sucking down her scotch. No one spoke. Maddie and Sarah slipped into the kitchen to put the final touches on dinner. Peter stood by the fireplace. I leaned against a bookcase. Uncomfortable with the silence, I pulled a book off the shelf and started to flip through it. The clock suggested only five minutes had passed since their arrival.

  Several minutes later, Maddie’s head appeared around the door. “Dinner is ready,” she announced. Even Peter looked relieved. Mister charisma could not get a conversation going.

  All of us took our seats and started to dish out the food. The girls had all the fixings for a gourmet Thanksgiving dinner: glazed carrots, mashed potatoes, gravy, asparagus, sausage and bread stuffing, sweet potatoes, turkey, ham, and homemade rolls.

  “What are these?” My mother held a pair of tongs over the parsnip tray.

  “Those are parsnips,” Maddie casually responded.

  I thought I detected some fear in her voice.

  Mom poked them with the tongs. “Like I said, what are these … stringy things?”

  “What? You’ve never had parsnips, Mother?” I forked one, a little viciously, from off my plate. “They’re related to the carrot.”

  “Oh please, do go on,” Mom said condescendingly.

  I smiled. “Certainly. They were quite popular in ancient times. Until the potato entered the scene, they used to be a staple. In fact, the Romans believed parsnips were an aphrodisiac.” I chewed my parsnip and stabbed another with my fork.

  Mother set the tongs down and passed the plate to Maddie.
“Fantastic. Not only do I get served these disgusting weeds, I get a history lecture as well.”

  Maddie picked up the tongs and heaped a pile of parsnips onto her plate before passing the tray to Peter.

  My brother peeked out of the corner of his eye to see if The Scotch-lady was watching. She was picking through the slices of turkey to find the best ones. He quickly put some parsnips on his plate and then set the platter down next to our father. To my surprise, Dad loaded some onto his plate.

  “So, Sarah, how are your classes going?” Peter looked desperate to bury the parsnip controversy.

  Sarah smiled and continued serving herself some asparagus. “Oh, they’re okay. I think the kids and I are ready for winter break. Each year, the semester seems to get longer.”

  “You teach math right?” asked my mother.

  Peter burst out laughing. Then he stopped abruptly.

  Sarah, surprised by the question since The Scotch-lady didn’t really speak to non-family members, quietly answered, “Uh, no. I teach English.”

  Maddie turned to Peter. Her tone confrontational, she asked, “Peter, why did you laugh?”

  “Come on, Maddie! It’s well known that boys are better at math. I’ve never had a female math teacher.”

  “God, you’re such a sexist pig sometimes. And for your information, I’ve had several female math teachers.”

  “Grade school doesn’t count, Maddie.” He winked at her as he buttered a piece of his roll. He popped it into his mouth, and smiled as he chewed.

  “Excuse me, I took math classes after grade school.”

  “You’re an interior designer.” His voice was too high.

  Maddie visibly blanched. “I double-majored. My second major was business.”

  Peter paused and took a sip of wine. “I didn’t know you studied business.”

  “I thought it might be wise, in case I wanted to start my own design business.”

  “Oh.” He pushed mashed potatoes around his plate.

  “Please, tell us, oh history sage, who was the first female math teacher?” My mother stared at me.

  “Allegra Calculari Abacai.”