“So?”
“So, I wonder why she didn’t mention it,” I said.
“Maybe she stayed here when your cousin was sick,” Daniel suggested.
“I guess,” I said, walking around the room, looking for other signs of occupancy. The dresser drawers were empty. I walked into the pink and gray tiled bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.
It was like opening the door to a time machine. There was a box of Dorothy Gray dusting powder. A tube of “Naughty Nude” Flame-Glo lipstick, a midnight blue bottle of Evening in Paris cologne. Doan’s pills. A bottle of Lydia Pinkham’s Female Tonic. St. Joseph’s cough syrup, a brown bottle of tincture of Merthiolate. The only thing in the cabinet that didn’t look like it hailed from the Eisenhower administration was a squat plastic pill bottle on the top shelf.
I picked it up and read the label. “Lucy McKuen. Take 1 tablet as needed for anxiety. Xanax.” The bottle was half full.
The Infant of Prague statue was in its niche in the hallway, next to the telephone table. It wasn’t weeping, but I could swear it almost winked at me.
I went out to the kitchen. Mama had started sorting things out there. The cupboards had been half emptied, and boxes on the countertop were loaded with pots and pans and bits of kitchenware. I rummaged around in the cabinets and drawers and found the bottle of Four Roses in the pull-out ironing-board cupboard. At least Mama was consistent.
“Weezie?” Daniel stood in the doorway, holding the headboard for one of the guest-room beds. “What’s going on?”
I showed him the bottle of Four Roses and the Xanax. “My mother’s been having visions. She says that statue in the hallway is crying real tears and giving her revelations. Now I think I understand.”
He took the pill bottle and read the label. “Xanax. Some kind of tranquilizer?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Heavy-duty tranquilizers. The prescription was filled on Friday, according to the label on the bottle.”
“So?”
“Cousin Lucy died last Wednesday,” I said. “And this bottle had thirty tablets when it was filled, according to the label. There aren’t that many in here now. It’s half empty.”
“Your mother?” A look of concern crossed his face.
I nodded. “She’s been dosing herself with Cousin Lucy’s tranquilizers. And washing down the Xanax with a bourbon chaser. Sleeping here too. I had no idea.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She’s been a closet drinker since I was in high school.” I looked at Daniel and felt shame and dread wash over me. It was the first time I had ever admitted to anybody anything about Mama’s drinking.
“It’s a big secret, you know?” I said, my voice breaking. “She always has a glass of iced tea in her hand. But we all know it’s not really tea. It’s really pretty subtle. She starts sipping around noon, and then she takes a long nap, and then she wakes up and burns dinner.”
I heard my voice trailing off. “Poor Daddy. He’s had to live with it all these years, and he’s never said a word against her. I got out when I was eighteen, moved out and married Tal. But he’s stayed there and put up with Mama. She starts dinner, then forgets about it, and everything’s ruined. Daddy just goes out and gets a pizza or Chinese. Cook’s night out, he calls it, like it’s a big joke.”
Daniel slipped his arm around my shoulder. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. He gave me a comforting squeeze.
“Has anybody ever suggested she get help?”
I managed a choked-sounding laugh. “One time she passed out. Right in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. She went to the kitchen to get the cranberry sauce and just sort of fell out on the floor. Uncle James and Daddy had a long serious talk that day. And the next day, they told me Mama was going in the hospital. Because of some vague female problem. I was only fourteen or fifteen, but I figured out it was some kind of alcohol rehab. Mama hated the place. She called every night, crying and begging Daddy to bring her home. And after a week, he did.”
“Was she sober?”
“For a couple months,” I said. “And then the iced-tea glass was back.”
He held the pill bottle up to the light. “Probably not a good idea to mix these babies with booze—right?”
“Probably not,” I said. “Thank God she’s apparently been sleeping over here.” I shuddered. “I don’t want to think about the havoc she could wreak trying to drive home after taking Xanax with a Four Roses shooter.”
“Shouldn’t you talk to your dad about this?” Daniel asked. “This is pretty serious, Weezie.”
“I know. But I can’t talk to him. I love my dad. He’s a great guy. But we don’t talk about problems in my family.”
“What do you talk about?” Daniel asked.
“Tires. Religion. Hillary Clinton. He thinks Hillary Clinton is Satan. We just don’t talk about anything personal. I never even told them about the divorce.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I told James. He broke the news to them. They were devastated. They thought Tal was the greatest thing since sliced bread. I guess what I’ll do is talk to James about this. But I can’t leave these pills here. She could kill herself with these things. Or kill somebody else.”
I went back into the bathroom and opened up the other pill bottles in the medicine cabinet. The Doan’s pills weren’t an exact match, but Mama is nearsighted anyway and rarely wears her glasses. They would do. I poured the Xanax out on the top of the toilet tank and put the Doan’s pills in the Xanax bottle. I scooped the Xanax up and put them in the Doan’s pill bottle, which I stuffed in the pocket of my jeans.
Daniel was waiting for me in the kitchen, where I poured out half of the Four Roses and diluted the rest with water from the tap. “I switched pills,” I told him. “She won’t be having any problems with menstrual cramps, and hopefully, the Infant of Prague will quit tattling on me to her.”
“Weird,” Daniel said. He took my hand and kissed the back of it. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me so that I was facing him. With his thumb he wiped away a tear that had somehow escaped.
“Families suck,” he said.
He kissed me. Gently at first, and then more insistently. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and he moved his hands slowly up my back, and I arched forward to get closer to him. I heard the faint sound of my bra snap popping, and then his hands were cradling my breasts, and I gasped a little, and then he had me backed up against Cousin Lucy’s yellow Formica countertop, and I heard something fall in the sink and break, but there were other things to think about.
Like that sawdust on Daniel’s chest. I pulled his T-shirt off, and he returned the favor, and we were half-naked, chest to chest, and it was so lovely. He worked his knee in between my thighs, and I dug my finger-nails into the small of his back, and then he was bent over, doing something interesting with his tongue on my left nipple when there was a sudden sharp rap at the kitchen door.
“Jesus Christ,” Daniel muttered.
I jumped backward and knocked a stack of jelly glasses to the floor, where they smashed into a million pieces.
“Anybody home?” a woman’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Marian? Is that you?”
I scrambled around on the floor until I found my shirt. I pulled it over my head, sending bits of broken glass raining into my hair.
“No,” I called back, trying to catch my breath. “It’s Eloise. Marian’s daughter. Who’s that?”
Daniel found his shirt and put it on. I motioned for him to get out of the kitchen.
“It’s Alice. Your mother’s cousin. I just came by to pick up a few things. Your mama said it would be all right. I thought maybe that truck was hers.”
“Oh sure, Alice,” I said, picking bits of glass out of my hair. “Just give me a minute. Mama’s got this door dead-bolted and double locked.”
Thank God, I thought.
I was opening the door when I saw a bit of hot pink lace ou
t of the corner of my eye. My Victoria’s Secret Miracle Bra—it was dangling from the knob of the cabinet under the sink.
Alice rushed into the kitchen and folded me into a hug. I backed up to the sink, hoping to block her view of my missing bra.
“Well, Weezie,” Alice gushed, “it’s been ages since I’ve seen you. You weren’t at the wake, were you?”
Alice was a tall woman, Mama’s age, but she looked nothing like my mother. She wore paint-spattered blue jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt and Birkenstock sandals, and her wiry gray hair was in a braid that hung down past her shoulder blades.
“I feel awful about missing the wake,” I lied, “but I was away on a buying trip and didn’t find out until I got back.”
Alice wasn’t really listening. She looked around the kitchen at the mess. “What happened in here?” she asked, pointing at the broken glass.
“Just stupid old me,” I said. “I was trying to help Mama out by packing up the stuff on that top shelf and my foot slipped and I knocked over the whole stack of glasses on the top of the counter.”
“You weren’t cut, were you?” she asked, stepping closer.
“I’m fine,” I said, backing away so that she wouldn’t notice my braless state. “You just go on ahead and get what you want out of the house. I want to sweep up this mess before somebody steps in it and gets hurt.” I smiled and made a little shooing motion with my hand.
“Well,” Alice said tentatively, “if you’re sure. There’s a cordial set and glasses that I’ve always liked. It’s in the dining room. I’ll just step in there and see about packing it up.”
“Good idea,” I said brightly. “You do that.”
As soon as she was out of the room I grabbed the bra and threw it inside the cupboard under the sink.
“Oh,” I heard Alice say from the dining room. “Hello. I didn’t know Weezie had company.”
Daniel came out of the hallway with the footboard of one of the maghogany beds. “Hello,” he said, and he walked toward the front door without stopping.
“Alice,” I said, walking into the dining room with an empty cardboard box and some newspaper for wrapping, “that’s my friend Daniel. He’s helping me move the bedroom sets. I bought them.” And then I added. “For cash.”
“How nice,” she said, studying Daniel’s broad shoulders as he hoisted the footboard into the truck. I bit my lip. His shirt was on backward. Alice gave me a broad wink. “How very, very nice.”
“Here,” I said, wanting to look busy, “let me help you wrap those glasses.”
She had the china cabinet open and was setting the cordial glasses on the sideboard. “Oh no. Don’t let me interrupt you. Go right on with what you were doing before I got here.”
My mind flashed wistfully on what we’d been doing before she interrupted. If only, I thought. BeBe was right. Next time, we get a room.
After she’d packed the decanter and cordial glasses, Alice flitted around the house, picking up a few more odds and ends to take home.
“Sure I can’t help you pack that stuff?” I asked, watching Daniel plod past with the bed rails.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “You go help your friend. I’ll just take one last look around out in the kitchen, and then I’ll be on my way.”
I went into the guest bedroom and started taking drawers out of the dresser. It occurred to me to wonder where Mama would sleep after we’d moved the beds. The sofa probably. Once she’d mixed Xanax and bourbon, she probably didn’t care where she slept. Although that would change a little, now that she’d be taking forty-year-old Doan’s pills with half-strength Four Roses.
I took the stack of drawers out to the driveway and handed them up to Daniel, who was standing in the bed of the pickup, arranging some old blankets around the headboards.
“Is she leaving anytime soon?” he asked, staring toward the door.
“One more look around and she’s out of our hair,” I said, secretly enjoying his look of disappointment.
“Hey,” I said, watching to see if Alice was watching. “Come here. I’ve got a secret to tell you.”
“What?” He looked wary, but he leaned over the bed of the pickup truck. I put my lips to his ear and quickly flicked my tongue in, then whispered, “Your shirt’s on backward, lover boy.”
I turned and walked quickly back toward the house, giving my behind what I hoped was a sexy little swish.
I was rewarded with a low but appreciative wolf whistle.
Alice was in the kitchen, strapping tape around a large cardboard box.
“Found a few other little odds and ends,” she said, patting the box. “It will be a comfort, having some of Lucy’s things to remember her by.”
“I’m glad,” I said. Alice kissed me on the cheek, hefted her box onto her hip, and went out the back door to load her treasures in the trunk of her car.
Daniel stood in the driveway and watched Alice back her Plymouth into the street.
“What was that you were saying about families—back there in the kitchen?” I asked.
“They suck,” he said, scowling. “Just how many more cousins does your mother have?”
“No more than a dozen,” I said.
“And are they all coming over here today to root around in this house?”
“Knowing Mama, I’d say there’s a good possibility. It’s a pretty close family. And Lucy never married, so all her stuff is up for grabs.”
“OK.” He started back for the house. “Might as well get those beds moved. Since we won’t be using them.”
He stood in the master bedroom and stared at the high-backed bed.
“This is nice,” he said, running his fingers over the carved frieze of oak leaves and acorns.
I took a closer look. “Yeah, it really is, now that you mention it. Are you in the market for a bed?”
“I’ve got a waterbed still in storage. Haven’t had time to set it up yet.”
I wrinkled my nose. Waterbeds. I put them in the same category as crushed velvet Nehru jackets. “What do you sleep on?”
“There was an old sofa in the house when I moved in. It works.”
“It’s a nice bed,” I said. “And the dressers are good too. Not too girly.”
He looked around the room. “You like this stuff?”
“Sure,” I said. “I can sell bedroom furniture like this just about anywhere. The stuff in the other room, that beat-up mahogany, that’ll take a little work. I’m gonna slap some white paint on it, sand the corners down, beat it up a little more, put some glass knobs on it, and sell it as shabby chic.”
“How would this oak stuff look in my house?”
“It would look great,” I said. “Do you like old stuff?”
“I guess. I like the stuff at your place. I like the way you put things together.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
“I think I’ll hire you,” Daniel said.
“To do what?”
“Put my place together,” he said. “That crap in storage is worthless. I’ve never really had anything good. Maybe now is the time. You could do that, couldn’t you? Buy stuff. Make it look right. How about it?”
“I’m not an interior designer,” I said. “I just buy and sell junk. And I keep the junk I like. That’s all. What makes you think I could put your place together for you? I don’t even know you all that well.”
He came very close. Put his arms around my waist. “I like you. I like the stuff you like. Come on, what do you say? Wanna play house?”
“You really want me to?” I was feeling suddenly shy. An hour ago I’d been nearly naked with Daniel, but playing house? That was something different. And speaking of different, something was missing. I looked down at my T-shirt and saw my erect nipples. He saw them too.
“Hello,” he said, kissing my neck.
“My bra,” I yelped. “I almost left it in the kitchen. God forbid Mama finds it when she goes looking for her bourbon.”
He followed me into the kit
chen. I knelt down and opened the cupboard under the sink. There was a can of Comet, a roach motel, and a box of Brillo pads. No pink lace.
“Crap,” I said, remembering Alice’s cardboard box. “Mama’s cousin stole my Miracle Bra.”
“I told you,” Daniel said, pulling me to my feet. “Families suck.”
Chapter 37
We left the oak stuff in Daniel’s truck in Thunderbolt and took the mahogany furniture back to the carriage house. I parked the truck in my slot in the lane. Daniel grimaced at the sight of Tal’s car parked there.
“I don’t like this.”
“It’s where I live,” I said.
“It’s where your ex-husband lives too.”
“I’m not moving,” I said, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “The carriage house is mine. I found it, I fixed it up, and I’m staying here.”
“Doesn’t it bother you, him living maybe fifty yards away? Knowing he’s watching you coming and going? Staring out the window at you?”
“A little,” I admitted. I couldn’t find the words to tell him how wretched it made me feel, moving out of the townhouse, or how it felt to see Caroline standing in what had been my kitchen, knowing she was carpeting over the hardwood floors I’d stripped, tearing down the wallpaper I’d pasted up, painting over the colors I’d lovingly picked for every room in the house.
“It’s freakin’ sick, is what it is,” Daniel said. “There’s a whole town here, Weezie. Savannah is loaded with old houses you could live in—and none of them have him living in the front yard. What’s so special about this place?”
How could I explain it to him when I couldn’t really explain it to myself? It was irrational, but it was there.
“You don’t have to come over here, if it bothers you that much,” I said.
“Is that what you want?”
“I want to get on with my own life,” I said, feeling my voice tighten. “I’m tired of worrying about what Tal thinks or what Mama wants. Just once, I’d like to do what feels good for me.”
“So do it,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Quit worrying about what other people think.”
Savannah Blues Page 24