“You almost made me drop my bride price!” he chortled with glee, so happy was he to hold her small, shapely form in his arms again.
Lena took his hand and led him into the home. She brought him first to her father, and introduced Michael to Peter. Lena then guided
Michael toward Mary and finally to Reva, to allow them to greet each other after the two-week separation. Michael excused himself and
returning to the porch, re-entered with a wicker laundry basket full of
foodstuffs.
Michael walked directly to Peter, and placing the basket at his feet, announced:
“I wish to marry your daughter. I promise to provide for her, both in the old and the new ways. I promise to honor her as my half side and
to care for our children.
Peter’s eyes welled, and he fought to hide his emotions – difficult to do since his injury, as he still had some problems with controlling his facial muscles. But, he managed, and asked Mary to show him what the basket contained.
Nestled within the Indian blanket lined basket was a smoked ham, bags of flour, cornmeal and boxes of baking soda, baking powder and packets of yeast, for the making of fry bread.
A tin of coffee, and one of tobacco, nestled side-by-side in the basket, beside a large bag of potatoes. Sweet potatoes as well as ears of corn were scattered throughout the basket, and in the center, safe from being squashed, was a large bag of tomatoes.
A plastic container of green beans, as well as a package of kidney beans, were included, along with a zucchini, a large head of cabbage, lettuce and kale. Blueberries, strawberries and a fragrant melon, encased in plastic, rounded out the presentation.
The message was clear: Lena would never go hungry while
Michael was taking care of her.
Peter gave a crooked grin, nodded, and looked to his wife with pride glowing in his eyes. Peter had given his blessing.
Upon Michael’s insistence, he interviewed with Vicki for the position of head chef, and spent the week cooking for her on approval. Said approval swiftly given, as Vicki realized what a gem had fallen into her lap. His cooking was inventive and delicious. Inspired by Native American cuisine, his style not only fit in with the theme of her restaurant, but enhanced it as well. She could not wait for him to return and set up permanent residency, marry Lena, and begin as head chef in her restaurant.
What a fantastic series of happenstance she thought to herself, overjoyed that Lena would soon be happily married, and she would have an accomplished chef to add to her staff.
Wait a minute! Vicki realized to herself. According to tradition, he is my son-in-law! Vicki couldn’t believe her luck. Childless, and bereft of her husband just a few, short years ago, she believed that any happiness was in the past. Now, here she was, surrounded by people she loved, and who loved her, and actually invited her to be a part of their warm and loving family.
At the end of the week, Michael returned to Iowa to close up his apartment and work out his notice with his employer, but not before he and Lena went house hunting. As luck would have it, they found exactly what they wanted within a couple of days. The townhouse, converted to a condominium, was situated in the Short North, so dubbed because it was a short distance from downtown Columbus. Once a distressed area, the vibrant neighborhood was on an upswing, as home and business owners spruced up their properties and brought the area back to life. The Short North was close to theaters, art galleries and high-end restaurants. Indeed, the area itself was soon opening its own galleries and eating establishments, and residents gained satisfaction in seeing the value of their properties rise.
The two-story condominium was listed at a very affordable price for the young couple, due to its rough condition. Built in 1890, the end unit of a four-unit townhouse, had once been home to a patriarch whose
children and their families resided in the other three residences. Around
the 1950s, the townhouses were converted to rentals, until purchased by an investor who put the units up for sale just a few months before. The other three condos were sold, the last remaining empty because of its condition.
The walls were unpainted and in need of repairs, the floors scuffed and scarred. It was rough, it needed a lot of work, but it was so – comforting, solid, homey, safe. The brick walls were a good foot thick; the ceilings were high, and the rooms spacious. Lena was sure that she could make it into a comfortable home for herself and Michael. In any
event, she was going to give it one heck of a try!
Michael purchased the condominium, and as soon as he closed on it, Lena moved in.
So, here she stood, painting her abused hutch and daydreaming of the day she and Michael would live together as man and wife.
Lena turned and looked out the back door, which stood open to a
glorious fall morning.
Our tree is full of apples! she congratulated herself! I’ll make an apple pie!
Just then, she noticed one of her new neighbors coming up the walk. She had met the owners of the other three units on moving day,
and instantly hit it off with Jo-Ann Glover who owned the unit at the
opposite end. Jo-Ann had invited Lena over for a “martooni” and dinner for the following Saturday night to celebrate the move-in, and Lena and Michael’s upcoming marriage. Anxious to get to know the neighbors who shared the large, undivided back yard, she accepted the invitation, and promptly arrived at Jo-Ann’s back door at 5:00 P.M. on the appointed day. Lena was pleased to have made a new friend; it’ll be nice to have a someone so close by, she reasoned, and accepted the invitation in the hopes that she and Jo-Ann might become good friends.
As with her own unit, the back door led directly into Jo-Ann’s kitchen. Whereas Lena’s condominium was a shell, not a wall in the place was without need of plaster and paint, Jo-Ann’s unit was carpeted, painted, and finished. Lena stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around. Like her condominium, it was laid out in a shotgun floor plan, that is, she could stand in the kitchen and look through the connecting dining room and into the living room. Jo-Ann’s home was decorated in the Victorian style, and was very charming, the period furniture blending well with exposed brick walls, carved mantelpieces, and marble hearths.
“Have a seat.” Jo-Ann offered, gesturing toward a wooden armchair beside the kitchen’s door.
Lena sat and was immediately handed a red, plastic juice glass, filled with a clear liquid, which emitted a sharp odor. A green olive
stuffed with an onion and a lemon twist, floated in the water-like liquid,
as did several ice cubes. Dismissing the mystery drink for a moment, Lena continued to look around the room.
Although the counterpart of her own kitchen, Jo-Ann’s was much different. Fake wooden beams extended east to west across the ten-foot high ceiling, giving the room a rustic look, as if one had just stepped into
either an English hall or a log cabin, Lena couldn’t decide which her new
friend had been trying to emulate. Dark cabinets lined the east and south walls, topped with various baskets, vases and memorabilia, accompanied by a pair of green, blue, or yellow eyes tucked in here and there. Jo-Ann was obviously a cat lover.
Black textured Formica counter tops wrapped around the east wall to the south where the kitchen sink sat beneath a cat-bedecked window, placed in mirrored fashion to Lena’s own, complete with the view of an apple tree – this one sporting red apples instead of Lena’s green. Red checked gingham café curtains decorated the window above the sink and another behind a green, cat clawed, vinyl lounger, which sat in a place of honor beneath a brass floor lamp. Lena noticed that Jo-Ann had a dishwasher, an appliance Lena wished she had, as well as a larger refrigerator and a pantry. Compared to the dirty, yellow linoleum of her kitchen, Jo-Ann’s brick patterned vinyl flooring looked brand new.
Jo-Ann walked over to the cracked, scarred, green vinyl lounger, and groaning, sank into her chair, her right hand holding an identical glass
to the one containing the untouched drink in Lena’s hand.
“You have a lot of work to do, Lena, but in a way you’re ahead of me. I have these nice appliances, my fake beams, cheap carpeting and vinyl flooring, but I paid a lot more for my unit. By the time you came
along, the owner just wanted to get the units sold. In the end, you’ll
come out on top.”
Lena looked at her and smiled.
“You think so? Well, thank you, Jo-Ann. It is a bit overwhelming, but I think I can.....handle.....it. Jo-Ann, there’s a cat sitting on your stove with its back to me. It looks like it’s angry or something!”
Jo-Ann lit a Marlboro and glanced to her left where the stove was situated. Indeed, yet another feline, this a grey, striped, longhair, sat in the middle of the stove, back toward Lena and very definitely in a snit, her hairs standing on end, and a faint growl emitting from her throat. Jo- Ann laughed, taking a generous sip of her drink.
“Oh, that’s Maude. She’s angry with you because you’re sitting in her chair!” Lena looked at Jo-Ann, who countered with a large, toothy grin.
“You have got to be kidding!” Lena responded, laughing. “Well, please extend my apologies, if you don’t mind. I certainly didn’t mean to take Madam’s chair!” She chortled.
Jo-Ann raised her glass.
“Salut!” she exclaimed, and quaffed another portion of her drink. Lena lifted her own glass to her nose and smelled. It had a faintly
floral aroma, overridden by a strong smell of alcohol, definitely pungent, but Jo-Ann was drinking it so smoothly, it must be fine. She tipped the glass to her mouth and took a long sip. Her first reaction was that the
liquid tasted like perfume – flowery or something. Then it hit the back of
her throat! She felt as if her esophagus were closing! Her ears burned and her throat spasmed. She coughed, sputtered and fought to regain her breath. Jumping from her chair, Jo-Ann raced over and began patting Lena on the back.
“What is this stuff?” she finally choked out as Jo-Ann resumed her seat.
“A martini! A dry martini! You mean to tell me, Lena Catcher, that you’ve never had a martini?” Jo-Ann exclaimed, clearly unaware that she was serving alcohol to a minor.
“Oh, I am sorry. I just assumed...well, drink it slower. I promise you’ll come to love it!” Jo-Ann rose from her green, vinyl chair again and refilled her glass.
“Now, I like my martini’s dry – very dry. To some that means a
splash of vermouth over ice and then add gin to the rim. Others will take a pitcher full of ice, fill it with vermouth, pour the vermouth back into the bottle and then add the gin. Me...well, to me a dry martini is the vermouth is allowed to sit on the same shelf as the gin!” Jo-Ann smiled and waived her glass in salute, splashing some of the liquid onto the floor as she again plunked into her lounger while taking a long drag from her cigarette.
“You mean,” Lena looked at her glass and back at Jo-Ann, “I’m drinking straight gin?”
“Sure!” Jo-Ann said. “It won’t hurt you. Now, I have to go upstairs and do a few more things, and then we’re off to dinner.
Remember, I’m buying!”
With that, Jo-Ann stubbed out her cigarette, rose from her chair, and headed toward her stairs that led to the second floor, which Lena knew she would recognize, as the layout would be a mirror copy of her own – minus the falling plaster.
She leaned back in her somewhat uncomfortable, wooden chair, and contemplated Maude’s stiff back. Still affronted, the cat continued to sit in the middle of the stove in silent umbrage at Lena’s audacity in using
her chair. Rising quickly, she walked to the kitchen sink. Placing her
index finger over the rim of her glass, she poured out the gin, retaining the olive, lemon twist and ice. Refilling her glass with water, she returned to her seat, all the while chuckling to herself, and contemplating her absent hostess.
Jo-Ann Glover was an eccentric, this was clear. She had greeted Lena at the door in a brown, fuzzy garment, which she called her “Fozzie Bear Robe,” after the loveable, brown Muppet on Sesame Street.
Completing her wardrobe had been lime green, fuzzy slippers, and a
large, diamond ring.
Jo-Ann Glover was forty years old and single. Her life, however, was not without excitement. Born in West Union, Ohio, she had traveled to Columbus at the tender age of eighteen to “seek her fortune,” which consisted of taking the first job she was offered with an Ohio State University affiliated Ophthalmologist; it was the only job she would ever hold. Her youth was spent in anticipating her two-week vacation slots, in
which she would board a plane to New York, and seek out sundry friends and acquaintances with whom she planned somewhat unusual adventures.
During the ensuing years, Lena would spend many evenings in that uncomfortable wooden chair, pretending to sip the pungent, fragrant “martoonies” Jo-Ann always served, contemplating Maude’s indignant back, and listening to what she would later call “Jo-Ann Stories”: madcap adventures which many times seemed as if they should have been played out in some crazy sitcom on television. Lena would remember stories such as the “Uninhibited Island” in which Jo-Ann would explain that she and a friend had flown to his privately owned island and decided to skinny dip. Once in the water, they heard whistling and cat-calling. Turning, and looking up, they found a construction crew cheering them on.
“I would have sworn the island was uninhibited!” She exclaimed.
“Uninhibited?” Lena questioned – and then they had laughed, holding their sides and rocking when she and Jo-Ann finally realized that she meant uninhabited.
Then there was the story of when Jo-Ann was twenty-one and made her first trip to New York. She had been so proud of herself: flying on an
airplane! Placing her foot on the first step of the roll away stairs, which had been pushed up to the plane’s exit door, she noticed her date waiting
there to meet her. Giving a toss of her chic, veiled hatted head, she lost
her footing, promptly rolling down the entire length of stairs, and landing at the feet of her escort.
What would have devastated others did not faze her in the least! Eccentric, outrageous, generous, and full of humor, she attacked life rather than lived it, and survived in a world too harsh for her fragile
psyche, with the aid of wit, cigarettes, large doses of alcohol, and her
pets.
She was owned by five cats: Maude was a longhaired grey tiger of imperious attitude. Schnee, German for Snow, was a sapphire-eyed white longhair who considered herself the beauty of the family. Sherman, a one-eared orange and white tabby found on her doorstep one day, bloody and half-dead, was the buccaneer of the family. Herman, a black and white tom, who could possibly have been Errol Flynn in another life, was personally responsible for the entire repopulation of black and white cats in the Short North area. Then there was Oliver, a sleek, grey aristocrat with yellow eyes, who could never become reconciled with the fact that he was forced to live among such commoners. They were her loves and her source of affection in an environment fast becoming unendurable. She drank too much, smoked too much, ate to her fill with gusto, and gave of herself so completely, that all who knew her loved her, though they feared for her health. All of this Lena was later to learn. In the
meantime, she sat patiently, waiting for her hostess to join her, gazing at Maude’s back, still erect with indignity, a low growl emitting from her gray-furred throat.
“A pretty giiiiiirrrrrrrrl, is like a melody!” came ringing through the condominium’s corridor as Jo-Ann “floated” into the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. Standing at 5'4”. Jo-Ann weighed approximately 140 pounds and had, as Lena would later describe, the build of Julia Child, the face of Judy Garland, the hair of Liza Manelli, and the voice of Carol Channing. Dressed in black slacks and black tunic top, sewn over with small seed pearls, she topped off the outfit with a plain, worn, black trench coat, which
Lena was later to call her “signature coat,” and a large tote, used as a purse, which Jo-Ann laughingly claimed gave her the official status of “Bag Lady.” She still wore the large, diamond ring, a circle of four trumpet-like scrolls of gold, each inset with a quarter carat diamond and a half carat diamond in the center. It was garish and oversized – and it fit her to a tee.
Jo-Ann never learned to drive.
“I tried to drive twice. The first time...okay...the sisters where I went to high school decided that I should learn, and so off we go in the convent car with me at the wheel. I did fine until a beer truck got in my way! There we were, looking up the ass-end of this truck, and what happens? Some kegs burst, and we’re flooded with beer! Probably the best time those nuns had in years!
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