I dressed for Trip’s barbecue, deciding this was definitely not a caftan occasion but rather a time for casual, nonthreatening attire. The night might get chilly and no doubt dusk would bring out hordes of bugs. Bugs were the one drawback of living on or near the Edisto. Or anywhere in the Lowcountry for that matter because water was all around us. My mother used to say, where water is found, bugs abound. She was right. I sprayed my ankles and the back of my neck and hands with Skin So Soft. The advantage of Skin So Soft is that it actually worked and it didn’t reek like other regulation insect repellents loaded with DEET, which gave me a toxic rash. I chose a plain pair of beige trousers and a lightweight rose-colored cotton sweater set. I put Mother’s pearls around my neck and then took them off, deciding they might trigger an unpleasant memory for the girls. Hadn’t Frances Mae just about had a nervous breakdown when she saw me wearing them the day Mother died? Didn’t they represent the matriarchy? Yes, they did and it didn’t seem the appropriate moment to flaunt any kind of authority from my camp.
“Mom?”
Eric was home.
“I’m up here, baby! We’re supposed to be at Trip’s by six. I’ll be right down!”
“No worries! Amelia just dropped me off. She’s already there!”
“Good!”
So, Amelia had come, too! Well, of course she had. How else would he have come? I was completely befuddled then, but Amelia’s coming was an important step in the right direction. The next generation was stepping in to run interference against the infidels. My chest expanded with a long-overdue sigh. I did a quick mental review of the morals and ethics I wanted to impart to the girls and took a last glance at myself in the mirror.
“Aunt Caroline?” I said aloud. “Brace yourself.”
Somehow I knew because, like Millie, I knew things. Before we arrived at Trip and Rusty’s with Millie’s cookies, stacked and resting in a cheerful covered tin on the seat between us, before we saw the long red-and-blue flames leaping from the barbecue and Trip screaming “Stand back!” and spraying the fire extinguisher like a madman sending foam everywhere, before we saw Belle and Linnie perched on opposite sides of the picnic table, carefully and deliberately positioned out of Trip’s line of vision, arms draped around the necks of two unknown swarthy young men with visible tattoos, all of them engaged in some serious and frantic tickling of the tonsils, and even before we saw Chloe spinning alone, looking up at the sky to make herself dizzy, and yes, before she threw up all over her dress, I knew. The enemy was all around us and we were headed for a revolutionary war.
10
Etiquette Unchained
HOLY SHIT, MOM! WHAT THE . . . ?”
“Please! Do not use vulgar language in front of your mother! Isn’t this enough to deal with?” I swept my arm across the scene before us. Did anyone have a sense of decorum anymore? Apparently not. This insufferable and flagrant nonsense had to stop immediately and never happen again! In front of me, anyway. Or innocent little children especially. I didn’t know where Rusty was at that moment, but she certainly would not have approved of what Belle and Linnie were doing in public or in private. In fact, if they behaved this way in public, what did they do in private? The audacity! Five generations of Wimbleys had to be spinning in their graves at warp speed. Pearls or no pearls, I was going to step in and assume the matriarchal position.
“Take Chloe in the house right now to get her cleaned up, will you? Please?” Eric seemed rooted to the place where he stood, his jaw hanging open like a nineteen-year-old bloodhound. “Eric? Are you with me?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Jeez. Y’all ought to get a room,” he mumbled as he passed Linnie and Belle and walked toward Chloe. “Groooooss.”
They ought to get two rooms, I thought, and took a deep breath. Eric’s comment to them had done nothing to cause a pause in the action. I walked right up to Belle and poked her hard on the shoulder with my index finger. Startled, she pulled away from the young man and looked up. In the passing of less than two seconds, I noticed that her beau had thick black eyelashes and brazen onyx-colored eyes, a wide mouth with full lips, and more teeth than Farrah Fawcett. I wondered momentarily if he resembled his daddy and if his mother was in good health. Hmm. But I had a job to do and it was not the best time to inquire.
“Excuse me? Just what do you two think you’re doing? And who are these two young men? Who invited them?”
“Oh, Aunt Caroline! Lighten up! This is my friend Juan.”
My thermostat readjusted itself to boil. My jaw was clenched like a sprung bear trap yet I managed to speak.
“I don’t think you just told your aunt to lighten up, did you, dear? And another thing, we don’t behave this way in front of your little sister. Or your father, is that understood? It’s vulgar and crass. So! Now! Let’s start again, shall we?” I took a deep breath and looked from Belle’s face to her friend’s. “Hello, young man. I am Isabelle’s aunt Caroline Levine.” I began to extend my hand for him to shake, then thought better of it and quickly pulled it back and ran my fingers through my hair. From the looks of him, I was suddenly fully aware that his hand may have traveled to parts unknown without the benefit of soap and water afterward.
“Buenas tardes, señora.”
Great. No hablo the mother tongue.
“Will you be staying for dinner?”
“I thought you said they weren’t invited,” piped in Linnie, who now stood away from her “friend,” hands on her hips, head to the side with a sullen, defiant expression.
“Watch your mouth, young lady. You can behave yourself or your friends can leave at once. So what’s it going to be?”
Linnie shrugged her shoulders and whispered something in her “friend’s” ear.
“It’s impolite to whisper,” I said.
“Cut the crap,” Belle said to her. “Don’t make trouble.”
“Language?” I said.
“Whatever. This is Antonio. Antonio, this is my aunt Caroline. She’s in charge of the world.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
Well, I thought, at least he took an ESL course or something. And that he looked uncomfortable gave me some relief that at least he had the decency to understand that cavorting around with my niece in broad daylight was not exactly kosher. How old was he anyway? He looked way too old for high school. I was certain of that.
“Thank you. Now! I am going to excuse myself and see if I can help my brother rescue dinner.”
I walked across the lawn to the barbecue area Trip had built at the end of the pool. And most important I traveled in a stride of certain purpose to show those young fools what poise and dignity looked like.
“Trip! Hey! Oh, my! What happened?”
“I know! Look at this mess!”
There lay the steaks, gorgeous thick rib eyes, covered in the icky chemical bath of the fire extinguisher. The King of the Grill did not show well as king. King’s executioner perhaps, but not king.
“Bummer! Too bad,” I said. “I’ll take that julep now.”
“I think maybe it was the oil in the marinade that caused the sudden burst of flames. Think I can hose them off? I mean, do you know how much money steaks cost?”
I just looked at him like the lunatic I knew he was. Money, money, money.
“Yes, I do know how much steaks cost, and no, you cannot hose them off and eat them because you will be poisoned and die. In fact, we will all die a miserable and painful writhing death of gastrointestinal nightmarish proportions that you can only even imagine!”
There was a pregnant pause in our conversation as Trip accepted the fact that the steaks were indeed beyond salvage and consumption.
“You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am. Now. Where’s the fish? And. I’m parched.”
“How am I going to clean this grill? This is completely disgusting!”
“Trip? Throw the steaks in the garbage, close the lid of the grill, and let’s go inside. Somebody’s thirsty?”
�
��This is very disappointing,” he said.
“To say the very least.”
Sometimes Trip could be maddening.
“How’s your friend Bobby?”
I was surprised that he remembered to ask. Maybe he did have a sensitive bone after all.
“Bobby’s happy to be alive and probably out of commission for a while.”
“That’s too bad.”
“You’re telling me? Now, who are the young men with my nieces?”
“Landscapers.”
“Great.” Poor fellows, I thought.
It wasn’t my place to make a judgment. Indeed, most Mexican families I had ever met had better family values, stronger loyalties to each other, better work ethics, and a greater sense of dignity and respect for others than most of the rednecks in the Southeast. It was the landscapers who were at risk. They could do so much better.
Inside, Rusty was brushing Chloe’s hair up into a ponytail and Eric and Amelia were moving around chairs to set the table on the adjacent screened porch.
“Hey, Caroline!” Rusty said. “Trip? I thought we should eat on the porch. Too many bugs outside.”
“That’s fine with me but the steaks have entered into family lore,” he said.
“I threw up,” Chloe said to me for reasons unknown.
In my world, the subject of vomit and other foul bodily functions that spew, emit, or blast forth are usually better left untold when in polite company.
“Yes, you did,” I said, when I wanted to say, You made yourself throw up, you silly little girl, but because she was only seven years old and because part of me felt genuine empathy for her that because of her boozehound mother, she was trapped in her unfortunate situation, I did not. “Chloe, dear? If you get invited to Buckingham Palace, don’t tell that to the queen, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and scampered off to the den to watch television.
“We need paper towels and a spray cleaner,” Eric said.
“There’s pollen everywhere,” said Amelia. “Look.” She held up a yellow finger.
“Yuck. Under the sink,” Trip said. “Longest pollen season in the history of the world.”
“Messy stuff. So, Trip? What happened to the steaks?” Rusty said.
“Torched them,” Trip said, and then added in a theatrical voice worthy of Richard Burton’s Hamlet, “The mighty flames gave me the opportunity to check out the reliability of the fire extinguisher.”
“Yikes. I’m assuming it worked?” Rusty asked.
“Worked great but I may have totaled my new grill.”
Rusty giggled.
“Darling? Don’t you worry about your new baby. I’ll have Gloria shining, good as new, by tomorrow,” Rusty said. “Meanwhile, we’re ten for dinner and I don’t think there’s enough fish to go around.”
“Gloria? As in Gloria the Grill?” Amelia said, and she could not restrain the giggle that came bursting through her clenched teeth. “That is so lame!”
“Amelia?” Rusty said with a warm smile that glowed all over everyone. “Any grill that costs that much should have its own name. So, it’s not just any grill, you see. It’s Gloria.”
“Not to be confused with Henry the Hibachi?” Eric said.
“Yep. Or Vinnie the Viking!” I said, referencing their kitchen appliances. “Although a hibachi grill is a poor relative next to Gloria out there. Now, then. Dinner?”
“No worries,” Eric said. “I’ll get pizzas for us. They can have them here in thirty minutes!”
“Eric? Darlin’? Pizza’s okay, but I think this may be what the world’s currently calling ‘a teachable moment.’ Rusty? What do you think?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Well, I’m thinking there are probably at least three entrées we can pull together and we can teach all the girls what you do when there’s a kitchen disaster. Eric? Go get all your other cousins and their boyfriends. The boys will clean up the porch and all the women will help put together a meal. Tonight is the opening of the Wimbley Diner! Chloe can design the menu.”
Over the next fifteen minutes or so, after Trip finally poured Rusty and me a glass of wine, we got the complaining mostly out of the way, and finally we were beginning to reach an understanding—they had to help if they wanted to eat—and get organized. After all, Trip, Rusty, and Aunt Caroline only have so much patience, kiddies.
But like many things, life had become instantly different in many ways for my nieces and for my brother and Rusty. All these untried arrangements required some thought and trials. So, I assembled them all and gave them the plan for the evening, which was met with less enthusiasm than I had hoped. The young men weren’t the problem. They took rolls of paper towels and Windex and out the door they went to tackle the layer of pollen. It was the girls.
“I’m not even that hungry,” Linnie grumbled.
“Me either,” Belle said.
“Of course y’all aren’t starving!” I said with a smile. “But the men have to be fed!”
“Why?” Chloe said. “Why can’t they feed themselves?”
Actually, I thought, that’s a good question. Rusty must have thought so, too, because when I looked over at her, she had stretched her eyes wide and was nodding at no one in particular.
“Because they’re babies,” I said. “We’re the nurturers—such as we are, that is.”
Rusty spoke up. “And because if men don’t eat they get cranky. Maybe it’s blood sugar or something, but they get cranky like old dogs! Isn’t that right, Caroline?”
“Yep! So why don’t you girls dig through the cabinets, the fridge, and the freezer and see what you can find.”
“You mean, like it was our house?” Chloe asked in all innocence.
“Well, yes, and it is your house, Chloe,” Rusty said. “Now you have two houses.”
“Wow. Two houses,” Belle said with sarcasm, and opened the freezer. “Well, there’s ravioli in here that doesn’t look too bad.”
I ignored the remark and Rusty sighed.
“I just bought it last week,” Rusty said. “There’s garlic bread in there somewhere, too.”
“I could go for a grilled cheese or some mac and cheese,” Linnie said, holding up a block of good-quality Cheddar cheese and a box of Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese.
“You eat that stuff?” I said to Rusty.
“Trip buys it at Costco. By the case. He loves it.”
“Linnie?” I said. “Why don’t we make it from scratch and let’s make the instant one, too, and we can see which one we really like? You know, like a food challenge?”
“Because I don’t know how to make it from scratch?” Linnie said, without a shred of charm.
“Ah! But I do! I used to make it for Eric all the time! I’ll show you how. No biggie. And there are some sausages in there from Bobby that we can fry up with the mac and cheese.”
“How is Bobby?” Rusty said.
“We’re on hiatus.”
“What’s I-ate-us?” Chloe said.
“High-a-tuss,” I said, and smiled at her. “It means my boyfriend and I are giving our relationship a little time off.”
“Why? Did you have a big fight?”
“No, honey. We’re still great friends. It’s okay.”
“Oh. Okay, if you say so. So what’s going on this menu?” Chloe asked. “Fish and salad? Grilled cheese sandwiches? Mac and cheese with sausage? How do you spell sausage?”
“S-a-u-s-a-g-e. And ravioli,” Belle said, and still staring into the freezer, she pulled out a foil bag of garlic bread. “Here! Got it.”
We put it all on the counter and everyone chose which entrée they would make. Belle grated Parmesan and Cheddar cheese while Linnie chopped onions.
“I’ll make salad,” Rusty said.
“I’ll boil water,” I said, and began to fill a pot. They all stopped and looked at me. “Oh, come on! I have a sense of humor, too, you know? How about if I get on that mac and cheese? Darlin’? Grat
e us two cups of Cheddar, okay?”
“Sure,” Belle said.
“Thanks, precious.” I winked at her and she rolled her eyes. “Linnie, when you’re done . . . hey! Where’d you learn to chop like that?”
Her knife moved across the cutting board so quickly I was astounded.
“Food Network. I’m like OCD for it.”
“Wow. You might be the new president of the slice-and-dice club!”
“Thanks,” she said, and unintentionally released the tiniest of smiles.
“Well, when you’re done, why don’t you take Chloe to the den and show her how to make a menu with the computer.”
“Hello? I’m almost eight! I think I can do it myself.”
“Yeah, really, Caroline! What are you thinking?” Rusty said, teasing. “She’s probably more nimble with a computer than we are.”
Chloe gave us a very self-satisfied bounce of her unfortunate square head and flounced away to the den.
Maybe there’s hope, I thought. Well, a glimmer of it anyway.
Orders were taken and eventually we sat down to what could be characterized as a hurricane meal, which would be one prepared with whatever could be found but with no electricity or water, having boiled the pasta in Evian on a charcoal grill or whatever we had on hand, although Trip would have been apoplectic if we had used bottled water to cook. The cost, you know. From my vantage point—that is, over my plate of macaroni and cheese and a glass of white wine—it appeared that the evening was progressing smoothly. Rusty was telling a story about Owen, her little brother whom she adored, who was a veterinarian and loved animals as much as people. Chloe remarked that she’d like to have a puppy. Despite her few years on earth, Chloe was smart enough to realize that this was a prime opportunity to lobby for a pet. Everyone hesitated. How Rusty would respond could have a great impact on how all the girls would feel about her. At first Trip objected, saying that they had plenty of dogs around that she could play with, but then Rusty said, “No, Trip, I understand what Chloe feels. She wants her own dog to love.”
Lowcountry Summer Page 11