Hildreth 2-in-1

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  “Like you haven’t done that to me a thousand times. And no, I’m standing here at the sink. And you better not be calling to tell me our plans have fallen through.”

  “Actually, my darling, I’m calling to tell you that I have successfully contacted Grant. And I will have him at the door of Jake’s promptly at seven thirty.”

  “You are fabulous.”

  “Yes, sweet girl, I am . You owe me big.”

  “He’ll owe you bigger,” I assured her.

  “Now go get on with your business.”

  “I’m going back to get dessert.”

  “Ooh, have some for me.”

  “Sure. My pleasure . Thank you, my friend. Love ya.”

  “You too . Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” I declared in sheer delight as an elderly lady walked through the bathroom door, only to back herself right back through it upon my outburst.

  Back at the table,Thomas appeared in no way disturbed at our conversation. He was just stating the facts as he saw them. He was like Vicky in that way. Neither realized or even concerned themselves with the immediate effects of their words . They just simply stated how they felt, what they observed, and that was that.

  “I’m not in denial, and I know who I am. And I’m not old. So I would advise a man who desires to live eternally with his mother to quit dissecting my personality and talk about other things. Like this free-music stuff.”

  “Oh, it really is amazing. Just pick a song. Download it. And bam! You’ve got new music.”

  “Could I just download them to my iPod?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “Anything?”

  “Even Donny Osmond.”We shared our desserts and speculated how Amber and Mother would spend their evening under the stars . We came up with many options and expressed thanks that we would be present for none of them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Television at ten, featuring Mother and Greta Van Susteren, was a bad idea. I tried to turn it. But like a train wreck, it held my attention. Old Vicky did pretty good until the end, when she didn’t know the microphone was on and she asked Greta who had done her fabulous eye job . Then she offered poor Greta the number of her hairstylist so she could get some help on that end while she was in town. But since I didn’t hear my name surface one time during the interview, I didn’t even care that Ms. Susteren had been insulted.

  As I sat on the sofa, curiosity got the best of me. I’d witnessed Mother sleeping outside, but Miss Amber Topaz sleeping on a sidewalk was something that needed to be seen. Thomas refused to accompany me. He said it would take weeks before his body recovered as it was. Mother had called us during dinner, but I made Thomas talk to her while I ran to the bathroom again. That way he could honestly say I wasn’t available.

  The commotion around the square had died down. Propped up against the monument this evening were Victoria and Miss Gemstone. Dad was across the square, talking to a couple men who looked like journalists packing up for the night. Mother and Miss Gemstone had their silk eye masks propped on the tops of their heads, obviously confident their assignments for the evening had concluded. Mother was looking ever the worse for wear, and they were gabbing it up at ninety miles an hour. It wasn’t clear to me how at the end of the day there was still so much left to be discussed. My vocabulary ceased after dinner and abandoned me until after my first morning Coke. But these two, these two incessant chatty Cathys, seemed to find conversation in mere conversation.

  “Does this concrete not leave marks?” Amber asked, rubbing her backside.

  Mother giggled.“Honey,my poor body will never be the same after this. I’m glad I’m so physically fit.”

  I tried to stifle my laughter . That woman had only used her in-home gym once. Once. Hadn’t even gone down there since to see if anything was even still there. And here she was declaring that her physically fit body was helping her . The only thing that kept her fit were the countless miles she logged from walking all around these squares, making sure things ran the way she deemed they should run.

  Amber looked up at her. “Well, I’m thankful I started those Pilates videos last week. Ooh, that’s what I should do. I should show you some of those moves that I’ve learned.”

  I thought for sure mother would protest. It would have seemed appropriate. But she didn’t. And the next thing I knew, two grown women perched themselves atop their sleeping bags and began doing Pilates. It was ugly. If that was Pilates, someone should be charged. Amber had my chained mother doing things in public that should be downright illegal. Cirque du Soleil wouldn’t be auditioning them anytime soon. Eventually, Dad finally noticed them and made them stop . They were flabbergasted at his request, but he didn’t leave it up for discussion. He simply told them to get back in their sleeping bags and get to sleeping. At least all of his good sense didn’t leave with this new way of life that had overtaken our world, our Savannah. Duke growled at Amber when she tried to get him to lie on the end of her sleeping bag. Instead, he walked all the way over to the other side of Dad and plopped himself down with an extended sigh. If he knew Thomas was at home in a warm cozy bed,Thomas would suffer the ill effects of chewed-up underwear for no less than a year.

  “I wish Savannah were here,” I heard my mother whisper.

  “I do too.” Amber pouted.

  Those women were certifiable. I sat down to make sure I wasn’t spotted and leaned back against one of the stately live oaks. It was kind of nice out here. Neither the death-grip of summer nor the “love bug” infestation had yet to truly seize us. And the evenings of quickly dissipating spring still held gentle breezes and sometimes a need for a lightweight jacket.

  “May I join you?” came the voice of Faith Austin.

  “Sure, it’s a big tree.” I scooted over. “So, where do you rest your head at night?”

  “Well, not out here, that’s for sure.” Her dark tresses seemed to reflect the light of the moon. “I’m staying over at the Westin Resort. It has computer access, which helps . Why aren’t you up there with your mother, supporting her cause?”

  I chuckled at the thought.“Well,my mother and I aren’t much alike. She likes the spotlight; I prefer lowlight. My mother has a way of continually moving toward the press, wherever it might be at the moment.”

  “So you think that’s the only reason she’s up there?”

  “No, couldn’t be.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause she wouldn’t sleep outside four nights in a row if it was just about media exposure .No, she adamantly believes in what she is doing.”

  “So you don’t support your mother’s views?” she asked, digging a Snickers out of her purse.

  “There are a lot of views my mother has that I don’t support. Then, there are some I simply don’t understand. In this case, I simply fail to see the necessity of chaining oneself to a statement.”

  “Want a bite?” she asked. It was nice for someone to offer me food for a change.

  “Sure.” I took a bite out of my portion of the Snickers.“How do you eat all of this stuff and look like you do?”

  “Who knows. Good metabolism. Always working. Never enough sleep. All of those good things.” She took another large bite.

  “Do you work like this all the time?”

  “You have to in this world, Savannah. But I love work. Even thrive on it. It defines me. Plus, you have to work hard if you want to stand out among the rest.”

  “You don’t have much trouble standing out among anyone.”

  She laughed softly.“You’re kind.”

  “Why are you really here, though?”

  “I told you. Because this is my job.” She gazed at the silk-masked ladies who were still chatting.

  “I don’t mean here in Savannah; I mean here, in the middle of this controversy at all.”

  “Savannah, one day you’ll realize that life isn’t black and white.

  Absolutes are relative. Most only restrain you. Kind of like your mother is over t
here.”

  “She would be restrained all right.” I watched as Vicky tried to find a comfortable position beneath her down sleeping bag and her chains.

  “Well, I was restrained long enough. Don’t have any desire to do that again.” Her gaze wandered off for a moment. But she was back as quickly as she had gone.“And the church doesn’t belong in the states’ business . They’re clearly separated by the Constitution. I mean, nowhere is God mentioned in the Constitution. Church people need to keep their stuff inside their churches and out of schools and city squares.”

  “So that’s why you’re here, to make sure church and state don’t mingle?”

  “Pretty much, Savannah. Just trying to keep those lines clear, you know.”

  “But if there are no real absolutes, then how can the separation of church and state be so cut-and-dry?”

  “Touché, Savannah. It basically comes down to this: The courts need to effectively be able to do their job without a conservative few dictating a nation’s way of life.”

  “Sounds diplomatic enough.” I finished off my half of the Snickers. “I had to learn diplomacy in college. I was the president of the student body my senior year in undergrad. So I can relate to the need of taking an important issue with two clearly defined opinions and trying to make the best of it.”

  “So you understand what I’m saying.”

  “Yes, in part.” I let my mind wander off to those beautiful days of college. I returned. “But I never negated what was true to appease either side . That’s because I believe in absolute truth.”

  “I guess that’s where we’re different.” She picked up her thousand-dollar handbag that sat next to her.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s where we’re different. But so long as everyone can respect each other in spite of their differences, I guess we’re really not that different at all.”

  We were interrupted by Mr. Shelton from the market up the street.“Oh, Ms. Austin, I didn’t think you would be out here so late.”

  “Yes,Mr. Shelton, just enjoying that Snickers I got at your store, with my new friend.” She gave me a wink. It was clear Mr. Shelton was entirely smitten.

  “I’ve got more if you’d like me to go open up the store for you.” He grabbed a key ring the size of a horseshoe from his belt loop.

  She held her hand up in protest.“Oh, no sir . That’s all right. I think we’ve had enough for the evening. I have to go get some sleep anyway, before another busy day tomorrow.” She turned her attention to me, apparently having forgotten what I just said to her. “Well, if you ever want to come see what we’re all about, you can always come to Atlanta.”

  “I used to live there actually.”

  “I know . Your father told me. A nice man. A little over-the-top with the board and all, but a really nice man. Cute too.”

  “Whatever.” I laughed.

  “Well, when you come, you’ll have a new friend to visit.” She wiped off her brown-and-khaki-striped linen pants.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure.” And with that her perfectly manicured hand slid into Mr. Shelton’s arm as they strode up the street together. She was stopped no fewer than six times by people who obviously wanted to talk to her. Eventually,Mr. Shelton bid her good night. I watched as she disappeared toward the Riverfront and one of the last evening ferries that would carry her across the river to the Westin. Mr. Shelton watched too.

  The beaming floodlights of the eleven o’clock news finally all shut off, and the steady music of the crickets lured me to sleep.

  I woke up in the dead of the night, covered in dew and hurting from the top of my head to well below the caboose area. I leaned against the rock to help me stand and tried to wipe off the dampness and bark. Then I caught sight of it: I had been leaning against Tomochichi’s rock. I tried to stifle my screams. But the jig I did around that rock, beating my backside from any remnant of dead people, didn’t go unnoticed. I shivered no less than twenty times and looked like a bad Jim Carrey impersonator. Those around me stared in their own postures of terror.

  I tried to compose myself to make it home. I looked back once more at the concrete monument that had stolen my family. There lay two women with an umbrella perched over their heads to capture the dew (a concept lost on me), silk eye masks over their faces, (another concept that would forever be lost on me), and my dad curled up by my mother with his arms wrapped around her.

  Looking at this scene, hearing the sounds of people snoring and seeing sleeping bags strewn from one entrance of the courthouse all the way to the other, and hearing the low murmuring of those who were praying through the midnight watch, I was struck by the lengths people would go to express their beliefs.

  Ms. Austin had made it clear why she was here. At least I think she had . These people were making their reasoning clear as well . They were standing for principles others had given their lives for. They were fighting for what judges only a couple years before had been fired for . They were doing that which America so beautifully allowed people to do . They were standing up for what they believed in.

  I had yet to understand the breadth of it all . The extremity of it was beyond me to begin with. But I knew that in the end, all would reveal itself. Life always does that. In my case, many of those revelations came through my mother. No matter how crazy she drove me, or how different she was from me, she deserved admiration. And the man lying beside her admired her the most. He didn’t always agree with her, but he completely admired her.

  As for me, well, I went home dancing a few more involuntary jigs along the way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Forsythe Park is the essence of our city to me. It seems to embody the heart of Savannah. Every element of our character seems to merge here and is represented somewhere in this two-block area . Tilling here with Duke—this morning he was desperate enough for sanity that he agreed to accompany me—was such a perfect way to start a day. The manicured shrubs lined the perimeter, the branches of towering trees cascaded over the sidewalk, the soothing sound of the fountain bubbled out of the center. The kaleidoscope required one to focus on something central.

  Every morning it brought me to focus on communing with my Creator. Not some life force that gave us morning beauty and evening splendor. Not someone who only mattered when recognized, but who recognized us even when we treated Him as if He didn’t matter. It was our time. His time to remind me of eternal things. My time to remind Him of my much-needed graces.

  Somewhere between my attempts to make more headway than I had the day before, a redheaded flame passed me. She was wearing short shorts and had legs up to heaven. Her curly mane was pulled back in a ponytail. She had her earphones on but was singing. It was clear she wasn’t tilling, because she obviously didn’t realize how loud she was.

  She didn’t recognize me, or at least didn’t let on if she did. I’m sure Grant had a picture of me somewhere. As many memories as we had made on film, it wasn’t possible he had removed every trace of me from his existence. After she passed me I slowed up, forcing Duke to retreat with a gagging sound, as I hadn’t forewarned him.

  You have no idea your world’s about to be rocked, do you, sister? Well, I don’t want to have to hurt you, but love is difficult.

  “Isn’t it, Duke?” He looked at me, seeming a tad irritated and confused.“Love is difficult. Don’t you know?”

  Of course he knew. His gaze wandered to a poodle coming up the sidewalk. But he couldn’t fool me. I knew every dog made him dream of Lucy. He had pined for that dog since she got antique-store broken. But Mr .Newman knew Duke’s reputation. Duke has a wandering eye, that must be admitted, which is why Dad has to keep such a close eye on him. And why Miss Alberta carries her Chihuahua in her purse. Rumors of his philandering float the streets of Savannah. As do a few suspicious-looking mixed-breeds.

  This distraction from my tilling was rather frustrating. But it did affirm that my evening plans would be worth all the heartache I’d endured.


  We entered Jake’s through the back door. Duke began growling at the swinging doors immediately. I peeked out to see none other than Miss Television Time perched at the counter, talking to my father.

  “She must really like it here.” I patted Duke on the head. He growled again.“What’s into you, anyway?”

  “He doesn’t like that little lady,” Richard said as he came out of the stockroom with more napkins.

  “Growls at her every time she comes in,” Louise said, looking up from the dishes she was washing.

  “How often does she come in?” I asked.

  “Oh, three, maybe four times a day. Only wants your father helping her. She likes him.”

  Their drama cracked me up. “She’s a silly lady. She knows my father is married.”

  “Savannah, child. Some women don’t care ’bout that kind of stuff,” Richard said, putting away some cups that Mervine had just dried.

  “Please, what would that woman want with my dad? He’s old enough to be her father.” I took a quick peek out through the slats of the door. I patted Duke on the head.“Come on, boy, let’s try to get ice out of the ice dispenser again.” He wasn’t interested. I sighed and turned my attention back to the manual dishwashers. “Anyway, when is that dishwasher getting here, ladies?”

  “I called that little twit again this morning. He said he would have it here this afternoon,” Louise said, becoming slightly more aggressive with the cup she was washing. “I told him if he didn’t he would have me to contend with when I showed up on his front porch.”

  “Ooh, call me before you go. I’m needing a good human-interest story.” I headed to the door.

  “Better not have to go. And you could do an interest story on all these demanding people that keep coming in here,wanting stuff we don’t have. If one more young’un asks me for a Frappuccino, I’m going to beat his big old—” Mervine slapped her wet hand over Louise’s mouth, leaving Louise to spit out soap suds.

  “Well, you two just keep that woman away from my dad,” I shouted as I went to close the door.