A Trashy Affair

by Shurr, Lynn

  A small, pleasant fire burned in the hearth. Merlin sat on the leather sofa with the remote in his hand flipping through channels. Was she a tinge disappointed that he hadn’t stripped and spread his long body out on the tan and white striped cotton rug in front of the fireplace simply to surprise her?

  “Nice job on the fire.”

  “Not a boy scout, but Grandpa and me did camp out when we went hunting and fishing. Now do I get dessert?”

  Were his blue eyes twinkling, or did they simply reflect the flames in the fire? Maybe she had been too harsh telling him to go home when that was the last thing she wanted him to do. Jane handed him the slice of pie without comment. He ate every last crumb before fixing his coffee with sugar and lightening it with milk since she’d made it strong to suit him. Jane did the same, skipping the sugar. Conversation appeared to have died the same death as the free-range turkey. On the television, the roar of the crowd cheering for a football team neither of them cared about filled the void. Merlin finished the coffee, placed the cup on the tray, and stood. Jane jumped up, putting her cup aside to remove all barriers between them.

  “Would you like to stay the night?” There, she’d said it, simply blurted out the ultimate invitation. Did she see a moment of panic flash across that seriously manly face?

  “Uh, no. I mean I have to get up before dawn because I’m flying offshore tomorrow, and I put in a long day before I got here. Tired. Lots of tryptophan in that free-range turkey. I doubt if I’d be able to do much good for either of us. Wouldn’t want to wake you early in the a.m. Great meal, honeybunch. Thanks for inviting me.”

  Merlin went to the front door and worked the lock to make his escape. Jane followed, staying him with a hand on his forearm, wondering if she felt a slight tremor there.

  “Would you like to take some leftovers? Come to the kitchen and let me fix some for you.” And rewind time to a half hour ago when his hands covered her breasts, and she felt his desire hard against her backside.

  “I won’t be home until late Sunday night, and the stuff might go bad by then. Feed the homeless or something. See you around, Jane.”

  Outside, a thick autumn fog lay across the land like a smoke screen. He stepped onto the porch, took the steps in two big strides, and disappeared into its cover, Merlin the Magician, poof, vanished in the mist.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane swore she recognized the heavy breathing of Merlin’s big-ass truck as it idled at the traffic light in the wee hours of the morning. Bad to know what a man’s truck sounded like so you could pick it out like your baby crying in the nursery. Not that the noise awakened her. Despite a heavy turkey dinner, relaxing massage, and some great recreational sex, because that’s all it was, she hadn’t slept well.

  Around three a.m., she got up and made a list of people to invite to May’s impromptu retirement party on Sunday afternoon and supplies she would have to purchase for the fete if she could pull it off by then. She loved lists, making them, ticking off each item completed. They made her feel well-organized, in control, moving steadily forward toward a goal. After that, back to bed to toss and turn some more.

  Why bother trying to sleep? She didn’t have to go into work today, could take a nap in the afternoon if she wanted. Jane left her covers and went into the kitchen. The coffee she’d made for Merlin still sat warm in the carafe because she’d forgotten to unplug the machine. She poured a cup, tasted its bitterness, and added milk and two packets of sweetener. Gazing into its murky depths, she berated herself for being too assertive in pushing Merlin away and then being foolish enough to ask him to stay overnight. No wonder he’d spooked. She knew what “See you around” meant. He’d probably spent his night trying to piece together Good Time Wanda’s shredded phone number.

  Moving on as one must, Jane ate a large piece of pumpkin pie for breakfast, justifying it as a nice balance of fruit and carbs. After that, she removed the turkey from the fridge and tore the meat off the bones, chopped it fine, bagged it to make turkey salad sandwiches for the party, and stored the carcass for soup later in the day. Contemplating the cranberry-orange relish, which made her think of Merlin, she considered tossing it into the garbage disposal, but that would be wasteful and the Marshalls did not waste. She found a recipe for cranberry-orange quick bread in one of her cookbooks, made double the batter, and folded in the relish along with some pecans from her tree. If it turned out, she could serve that on Sunday, too. Still in her robe and slippers, Jane went out into the mist being thinned at last by the sun and harvested lemons, lots of lemons. She squeezed out all their juice and stored it to make fresh lemonade.

  Once the kitchen clock showed a decent hour for calling, she started on her list of guests for the party. Obviously, some had gone out of town for the holiday, but most of the women she reached indicated their readiness for some relief from cooking and football games. Spring Robin asked if she could bring her daughter, Wendy, and her three grandchildren. Sure, why not? May doted on them. Spring also wanted to supply a cake with an appropriate message. Fine with Jane. She suggested the guests purchase a retirement card and put gift cards inside of them since time grew short for shopping, though they could do something else if they wanted. Several promised to bring food, even better.

  She diced the celery and carrots from the relish tray, added chopped onions and the minced parsley garnish to start the stock with the carcass for her mother’s turkey-corn-noodle soup. Throwing in frozen corn, noodles, and some of the meat, she had soup ready for dinner along with the leftover whole wheat rolls. After keeping him out of her mind all day, the buns reminded her of Merlin catching one in the air with his large hands, his large hands on her breasts, his large…” Backsliding again after so much progress made.

  By seven p.m., Jane crawled back into bed never having gotten out of her robe all day, then forced herself out again. Her trash in its big, green container needed to be on the curb tomorrow. She collected two bags of garbage, and glad of the early dark, went outside to place them in the container and haul her heavy can from the edge of the garage, through the resistant gravel of her drive to the roadside. She dusted her hands upon completing the task. There, she didn’t need no stinkin’ man who smelled of masculine musk and starched shirts to help her. Her eyes moved in the direction of Merlin’s townhouse. No lights burned in the windows. At least, he hadn’t lied about being gone. Shit! Now, she would spend another night remembering how his blue eyes glittered in the firelight, how his hands clasped her breasts, how the length of him felt inside of her. Oh, take two aspirins and go to bed, Jane Marshall!

  ****

  Though tormented by erotic dreams, Jane did sleep, only to wake hot and bothered. She took a warm shower, washed her hair, and declined to shave her legs today, maybe never again for any man, but only for herself since the idea of hairy legs on a woman disgusted her despite her mother’s teachings. She dressed in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, no logo of any kind, and began to blow dry her hair. Clang, clank, chug. She heard those sweet sounds over the noise of her hairdryer, turned it off, and bolted outside to witness her first trash pickup in ages. The B. O. truck passed right on by to pause at the stop sign.

  “Wait! Wait! You forgot my trash. See, it’s in a green can exactly like you wanted.” Jane ran after the truck and latched herself on to one of the handholds for the garbageman as if she could tow the vehicle back to her driveway.

  “Ma’am, you gotta get off. It ain’t safe.”

  “Not until you take my garbage.” She wished she had a chain and padlock to bind herself to the vehicle as her mother once did to a bulldozer being used to take down old growth forest.

  “You done gots the wrong can. I told you a black one. See here, it has to have a hook bar to fit on the lift. These things is heavy. I can’t be putting my back out to heave yo’ can. Mr. Burl, he says he ain’t payin’ no workmen’s comp claims.”

  “But you said to get a green can. I have a witness.”

  The garbageman’s eyes rol
led, showing their whites, as he stared at the neatly pruned bushes in case Merlin should appear any second now. Jane wished he would. She glanced hopefully across the street. No dice. Ridiculous, she could handle this matter easily.

  “I had a witness. You misled me on purpose.”

  The B.O. employee gave her a big-shouldered shrug that pulled his large belly above the safety belt he wore. He readjusted the harness. “Can’t use that green one. I’m telling you nice as I can,” he told her in case Merlin should overhear, Jane was certain.

  “Wait. I’ll put my trash in a lighter can even I can lift. Would that do? Just give me a few minutes.”

  Another shrug and he leaned against the truck, took out a half-smoked cigar from his pocket, and lit it. “Go on and get it.”

  Jane dashed to her kitchen and seized the tall waste can under her sink. She carried it to her garbage receptacle and went in armpit deep to retrieve the two trash bags inside. The first she smashed down into the waste can as far as it would go, then balanced the other on it like a giant muffin top. With the second bag tucked under her chin, she carried her load to the idling garbage truck and thrust it at the driver.

  “See, if a small woman like me can handle this, I am sure a great, big man like you will be able to dump it in the truck.

  “Okay.” He took a moment to toss the butt of his cigar and grind it out with the toe of his work boot, took her kitchen waste can and threw it, contents and all, into the back of the truck. He pulled the lever to rotate the waste.

  “No! I need my can back.”

  “Well, it’s gone fo’ sure now, little lady.”

  Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. Bad enough when Merlin called her little lady, let alone this guy. Her entire body trembled with rage. She’d like to pummel this man, tip him into the maw of the garbage truck, and hit the switch.

  The garbageman interpreted her watering eyes and tremor in another way entirely and took pity. “Now don’t you cry, ma’am. I’m gonna tell you a little secret. You don’t gots to go out to the barn for a black can. New ones done come in finally. You gets one on Monday.”

  Jane eyed him suspiciously. “That’s what Ethel tells me every time I call B.O. to complain.”

  “I ain’t Ethel. I’m in the know. Dry yo’ eyes, little lady. Weep no more.”

  “Thank you for the information.” Jane squinted at the name embroidered on his dark blue uniform shirt in orange thread half-obscured by smut. “Lemonjello? Is that right?”

  “Yeah, my mama musta been smoking something when she named me. Most folks call me Mellow for short. See, this is the best job I could get after the sheriff let me out of the pokey. I gots to do what Mr. Burl says. You understand.”

  “I do. My name is Jane Marshall, not little lady.”

  The driver stuck his head out of the cab window. “You done flappin’ yo’ gums, Mellow?”

  “Miss Jane, that’s my brother, Oranjello, O.J. for short. Yeah, coming. Drive on.”

  Jane returned to her house and added “kitchen waste can” to her list of party needs from the Wal-Mart out on the highway. She appreciated that K-Mart stayed in its spot on the edge of town and usually tried shopping there first, but she had to admit Wally World offered a better selection for festive occasions, much cheaper than the Hallmark store on Main Street. Since she planned to get May a hundred-dollar gift card, she must pinch her pennies somewhere.

  A thought occurred as she finished applying makeup for her foray out to the shopping center by the interstate. Miss Olive might enjoy getting out of assisted living for an afternoon to join the party. Not that Jane would do it simply to please Merlin and gain his attention. She genuinely liked his grandmother, surprising in so many ways. Olive Tauzin probably knew May. They were of an age. She made the call.

  “Mais, yeah, I want to come. I know May Robin from way back though I have a couple years on her. We went to the same high school. I do love a good party. Will you have music? I can’t dance no more, but I sure do love to listen and tap my feet.”

  “Sorry, no music. Not in the budget. The party starts at two. It’s a surprise, so don’t tell. Should I pick you up around one?”

  “No need. The Villa’s van will bring me, like having a chauffeur to do for me. Lots to like about this place.”

  “Attitude is everything.”

  “C’est vrai. Thanks for inviting me, baby. We have birthday parties for the geezers here all the time, but it is nice to get out.”

  “Glad to have you. Off to get the decorations,” Jane said when she sensed Olive would keep her on the phone chatting about life at Magnolia Villa.

  “Bye-bye, cher.”

  ****

  Jane waited tensely. The guests filled her living room and kitchen, overflowed into her library. Now if only Spring had been able to convince May to come for a conciliatory visit. The sight of the older woman’s betrayed eyes lingered in her memory as they’d cleaned out her desk, and Jane settled into the receptionist’s chair used so long by its former occupant that it molded to her skinny behind and so felt lumpy and uncomfortable to a younger, more rounded derriere.

  The women of the council office went all out for May’s party, short notice or not. A rice cooker and crock pots holding meatballs and mini-cabbage rolls sat plugged into the outlets on the kitchen counter. Jane put an extra leaf into her table to hold all the sandwiches, her turkey salad, ham, and tangy pimento cheese, and a huge assortment of sweets, the cranberry bread, chocolate chip cookies, pastel mints, pralines, and tiny pecan pie tarts. Even Tonette brought some pretty decent homemade peanut butter fudge. Didi, who did not cook, stopped on the way to pick up boudin sausage and sliced it into rings on the cutting board. Jane considered leaving the snitches off the guest list along with Nadia, but figured she had nothing to hide. Didn’t Miss Nixon tell her to have the party on her own time?

  Jane saved a place for the cake Spring intended to smuggle to the event in the trunk of her car by filling it with the turkey centerpiece, now disassembled and revamped without its goggle eyes, red felt wattles, and yellow beak. With any wilted flowers discarded and the rest placed in a pretty green recycled glass vase, it thriftily served the purpose. Pitchers of lemonade on the table, soft drinks in a cooler, coffee ready in a borrowed Party Perk, check! Black plates, cups, and napkins bedecked with a colorful confetti and streamer design and the words “Happy Retirement” in yellow placed on the table along with forks and spoons, check! A large basket brimming with cards containing gift certificates placed next to the guest-of-honor chair, check! Now, they only lacked that honoree.

  “Here they come,” Angela Savoy announced from her spy place by the front window. The crowd went silent as the car turned into the side road and moved up the gravel drive. The passengers didn’t come to the back door like old friends but walked around to the front and rang the bell. Jane opened the door and embraced the wide-eyed May who immediately noticed the “Happy Retirement” sign hung across the hallway. All the ladies jumped out of their hiding places and shouted, “Surprise.”

  She managed to whisper, “May, I don’t want your job. Not with all the tales you’ve told about the crazies and the threats received over the years. How did you ever do it?”

  “It’s a special talent, being able to handle people,” May replied. “One that I cultivated over the years. Everybody assumes being a receptionist is easy.”

  “I know it’s not.”

  May’s niece, Wendy, and her children surged forward and escorted the woman of the hour to her designated chair. Spring brought in the cake and displaced the turkey flowers. Jane provided the honoree with her drink of choice, and the opening of the cards began. Some were funny, the majority sentimental, bringing tears to May’s eyes. Most favored Wal-Mart for a gift, but May received a nice selection of restaurant meal tickets, all with notes inviting her for a lunch or dinner, and a few gas cards, too. Didi gave her a gift certificate to the local naughty nightie store, adding more red to May’s already rouged chee
ks and great guffaws of laughter from the women.

  “How do you know? This might be the first one I use,” May quipped, bringing on additional chuckles.

  “For true,” Merlin’s granny said from her perch on the other comfortable chair. “You got no idea what hanky-panky goes on at Magnolia Villa now that the old men got those little blue pills—only they don’t remember you in the morning.” Chortles erupted all around.

  May’s oldest grandniece, a beautiful blue-eyed girl out of high school a year or two, carefully paired the greeting and gift cards together, saving all the envelopes to make the task of thank-you notes easier. Finally finished with the abundance of good wishes, the ladies dug into the food, none of them holding back on seconds or mentioning a diet, except Didi who had to keep herself svelte for the councilman and Angela who seemed to be lacking in appetite.

  One by one, the guests departed, most of them leaving their food contributions behind for Jane and May to split. Spring, her daughter, and three granddaughters began ferrying containers, the gifts, and remaining cake to the car, leaving the kitchen a quiet and private place for the first time in hours.

  May squeezed Jane against her bony frame. “Thank you for doing this for me, honey. I know none of my trouble was your fault, but a person looks for someone to blame at first. I should have retired years ago before this happened.”

  “Nonsense. You did a great job, how great a job I am finding out. What will you do now?”

  “No idea. Buy a travel wardrobe with my Wal-Mart gift cards and hit the road, maybe. I won’t even have to pay for gas or food on the way.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “Jane, could I ask a very special favor?”

  “Anything.” As soon as the word escaped her lips, Jane knew she should have held it captive.

  “Would you go out with Waldo just once and give him a chance? Like me, he’s had no luck in love. He didn’t marry until he turned thirty-five, about the same age I messed up my life. His first marriage lasted ten years before she ran off with a casket salesman. Married again when he was forty-nine, but that babe only wanted his money. Undertaking is a very lucrative business, you know.”