Afraid of Her Shadow

by Carol Maloney Scott

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I get up and smooth my skirt, as if that will fix my eyes. I watch as Steve hugs his sister, and Elsa vies for attention. The cats circle at a safer distance.

  “Oh, these must be your kitties, Rebecca. I don’t know if Steve told you, but I love cats. I have five right now. One little darling passed away recently, and almost broke his Meowmie’s heart.” She bends down to call Blue and Jewel to her side.

  Meowmie? Is that what the cats call her? I mean, what she calls herself in reference to the cats? I have to admit, it’s creative. But completely looney.

  I swipe at my eyes again while Eve is occupied, and excuse myself to the kitchen. I hear Steve telling her that he will swear all he wants and he doesn’t need her mothering. His tone is playful, and he is obviously trying to lighten the mood and divert Eve’s attention from the obvious argument she walked in on.

  I bolt back into the kitchen, and yank open the oven door to find my potatoes looking safe. Whew. Steve loves scalloped potatoes. One area where I can always find solace is my culinary abilities.

  Eve and Steve (did their parents even think of the rhyming when they named him?) come inside and I hear them in the family room. “Oh, Steve, I love how the house still looks almost exactly the same. It must bring you so much comfort to have all the memories preserved.” She lowers her voice and I can’t hear her anymore. Steve says, “Those are from Rebecca’s house.” More mumbling.

  I slam the oven door shut. I look at Elsa, who is always on my tail when food is being prepared. “It would be highly suspicious if Aunt Eve died of poisoning tonight, wouldn’t it?” She whines, but that’s because she wants potatoes. I pat her head and get the meat out of the refrigerator. It’s been marinating all day and is going to be delicious. I just need to put it under the broiler and steam the asparagus. The bread and salad need to go on the table, which is already set. Good thing I left work early so I could get everything done before my nervous breakdown.

  “Oh, and the kitchen looks a little different. I see Rebecca is quite the cook. Noreen wasn’t much good in the kitchen, but she was such a smart girl and so talented. I would like to take one of her paintings to my new house, if that would be alright.”

  Bring a truck over and I’ll load them all myself. Luckily, I say that in my head and force a fake smile at the back-handed compliment.

  “Rebecca is an artist, too,” Steve begins.

  Eve ignores him and says, “Rebecca, dear, you’re going to get that delicious looking sauce all over your nice white shirt. I know, wait one second.” She disappears into the dining room and I catch Steve’s eye for a split second. His gaze is apologetic and pleading, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of commiserating over this woman. However, he is trying to divert her away from the non-stop Noreen praise fest. I shouldn’t be so hard on him. I look up to smile at him, just as Eve resurfaces with what looks like an apron in her hands.

  “Here you go.” Before I can protest, she has me wrapped and tied up in a tiny apron that barely covers my body. I look down and see that the pattern matches the china. I choke back my words, and silently count to ten. Ten ways to murder Eve.

  “This was Noreen’s.” Obviously. She laughs and touches Steve’s arm. “Don’t you remember, I gave this to her for her birthday not long after you two were married, after I saw that beautiful china she was able to swipe from that lying, cheating bastard of a husband.” Eve wipes her brow, as if blasting Jeff has made her sweat in Noreen’s honor.

  I smile weakly and return to the meat. “Thanks, Eve. I’ve got everything under control in here. Honey, why don’t you pour some wine for Eve and relax in the living room.” Shit, now they’re going to see the scratches on the couch.

  Steve ushers Eve out of the kitchen, presumably to save her life. I hear them talking about Eve’s sons and her decision to move to Richmond.

  “The boys are gone now, and I’m lonely. It’s just me and the kitties. I’m so glad I decided to make the move. New Jersey is so cold and depressing. With Seth in medical school and Evan almost done with law school, it’s time for me to start over.”

  I resist the urge to scream that at twenty-three and twenty-five, her boys have been men for quite some time, and she could have made this move a few years ago. Or a move to another planet. Again, I chastise myself for my mean spirited thoughts. Since their parents were killed in a car accident when Eve and Steve were in their twenties, they’ve only had each other. Steve’s patience with her is a testament to his character. Except, I did just find evidence of lying and deceit in the closet, so I don’t know what to believe anymore.

  I continue to prepare the food, taking some comfort in the routine of working and the companionship of Elsa. The traitor twins are in the living room, sitting on Aunt Meowmie’s lap.

  I begin to gather the food and load up the serving bowls. Steve pops his head in and asks if I need any help. I give in and hand him a couple of bowls, and watch him disappear through the hanging beads into the dining room. I marvel at how he moves so fluidly through that tangled up mess. Eve actually did, too. Maybe I am just avoiding them because they are ugly and Noreen’s. There’s no reason I can’t walk into the dining room like a normal person, instead of going the long way through the living room. Noreen’s spirit is not going to strangle me with the plastic decorations.

  “Elsa, watch out, Sweetie. I can’t give you any food yet. Let me get to the table.” I pick up the platter with the beautiful display of meat on it. Elsa jumps in front of me and I slightly lose my balance, recovering nicely as I hit the wall of beads. Somehow the beads attach to my hair, and as I move forward the meat starts to slip off the plate. I do a little dance to right the tray, but I can’t free up a hand to untangle my hair without dropping the heavy platter.

  “Jesus, Elsa, no wonder you never go in the dining room this way. You and I have too much hair.” Voices are coming back toward the dining room from Steve’s office. “It’s a beautiful tribute. I did something similar for my Aaron.” They both stop suddenly when they see me standing wrapped up in beads with the meat dangling precariously on the edge of the platter.

  Steve’s panicked expression causes him to lunge forward and try to rescue me, but I don’t think he realizes that it’s my hair that’s caught. Eve grabs the tray out of my hands as Steve attempts to pull the beads aside, and I yelp as a searing pain goes through my head. Great, now I’ll have to wear a wig.

  “Are you okay, Love?” Did Eve just wince at Steve’s term of endearment for me?

  “Yes, these beads are just…never mind.” I rub my head as I see Eve pursing her lips and inspecting the meat for hair and beads.

  “The food looks just fine. Those beads are a hoot, aren’t they?”

  Yeah, they’re a hoot. If no one was here, I would rip them off the wall and shove them in the garbage disposal. As I curse this night in my head, I spy a big chunk of my hair attached to the tangle of beads. He is taking these stupid things down tomorrow. I need to put my foot down. If Eve thinks they’re a hoot, maybe she would like them.

  I rub my head and sit down at the table. “Does everyone have everything they need?” Salt and pepper, butter, duct tape?

  “Yes, Dear. Everything looks lovely. Thanks so much for doing this.” Eve’s smile is sweet, and I almost wonder if she isn’t oblivious to her rudeness.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Steve breathes deeply, as if he is relieved to finally witness one semi-pleasant exchange.

  “These dishes are so stunning, aren’t they? No wonder Noreen didn’t want Crystal meth getting her claws on them.” Eve covers her mouth and giggles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that, but wasn’t it so funny when Noreen used to call her that, Steve?”

  I drop the salad tongs and they clatter against the serving bowl. Steve glances at me and then quickly averts his eyes. I thought that was something we made up, but apparently it was Noreen’s pet name for the woman who stole her husband.

  My mind wander
s to Luke, who is probably packing up his few boxes and getting ready to move his luscious, uncomplicated self into my warm, non-scary house…

  “Is something wrong, Rebecca?” Eve butters her bread as she looks at me with concern.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just a little clumsy tonight.” I should excuse myself to the bathroom and go scream in a pillow or punch something.

  We eat in relative peacefulness. Eve asks about my work and a few other easier topics, such as my family, and where I’m from. I have a glass of wine and attempt to breathe in Jesus and breathe out Satan.

  Eve is feeding all of the animals from the table, and they are vying for her attention like the contestants on The Bachelor. Me, me, me!

  “Eve, are you going to be working here in Richmond? I don’t recall Steve telling me what you do?”

  She looks up with a piece of bloody, saucy filet mignon in her hand and begins to respond, with Elsa doing the high jump to grab it. “Why, yes. Aaron left me quite a bit of money, but with the boys both in school, I decided to go back to my old career. I am a licensed veterinary technician, and I am starting at a vet’s office in a few weeks.”

  I put down my fork and say, “That’s wonderful. I wish I could find a job doing something I love.”

  Eve pets everyone’s heads and tells them they’ve had enough. “Well, Steve was telling me you like to paint. That’s a fantastic creative outlet. Noreen’s studio is just sitting there empty.” Eve looks wistful and clears her throat.

  I pause a minute and wait to see if she’s going to continue speaking, but she looks back down at her plate. This woman has suffered the loss of her parents, her husband, and watched her only sibling lose his wife.

  “Eve, I think you should consider joining the singles’ Meetup group. The one Steve and I met in.”

  Eve waves her hand in dismissal of my idea. “Oh, noooo. I couldn’t do that. I’m too old, and I’ve put on quite a bit of weight. And Aaron was my soul mate. I can’t possibly replace him.”

  She reaches over to the head of the table, and covers Steve’s hand with her bejeweled one. She’s still wearing her wedding rings. “But even though I can’t possibly be disloyal to my love’s memory, I’m so glad Steve found you, Rebecca.” She pats Steve’s hand. “Widowers always move on faster than widows and find someone new. Men have needs, if you know what I mean.” She winks at me and I picture my fork stabbing her eye. The nerve of this woman to insinuate that Steve is only with me for his “needs.”

  I place my wine glass on the table and stand up, “Who would like dessert?” I don’t wait for an answer and fight my way back through the fucking beads, into the safety of the kitchen. I hear Steve and Eve talking quietly, and he appears in the kitchen, as I am slicing my marble pound cake.

  I turn around, wielding the knife, and Steve puts his hands up in self-defense. “I know, I know. She’s my only relative, but yes, she’s out of line. I told her. Let’s just try to get through this meal and we’ll talk later?” He moves closer, cautiously, as if he’s not entirely sure he isn’t going to meet Noreen and Aaron sooner than planned. He takes the knife out of my hand slowly and kisses me lightly on the lips.

  I remain quiet for the rest of the evening, letting Eve focus on the animals, and talk to Steve about work and their childhood.

  Once she is out the door, I take off the apron and throw it on the kitchen counter. I head to the bedroom and throw myself across the bed. Steve follows shortly after he has walked Eve out.

  He warily sits down next to me and starts rubbing my back. “I’m sorry. About Eve. The stuff in the closet. Everything. I’ll call Jeff this week and ask him if we can store some things for Megan at his house. If not, I’ll get a small storage unit just for Megan. Like a big, ugly hope chest.” He leans across my body to see if I’m smiling. I’m not.

  I roll over and stare at the celling.

  “Can you please say something? I know Eve is living in the past, and I don’t want to be like her.”

  I rub my eyes, and roll my aching shoulders as I sit up. “I’m sorry I’m not being more supportive. It’s just been too much to take in. I don’t feel safe here.” I twirl my hair, looking at my split ends to avoid eye contact with Steve.

  “You don’t feel safe? What does that mean?” Steve pulls up my chin and lightly places his other arm on my shoulder. His brow is deeply creased, like crinkle cut French fries.

  “What if she’s here? Watching us?” I bite my lip and prepare myself for the lecture about ghosts not being real and overreacting, etc.

  Steve sighs and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Love, we’re the only ones here. I agree there is a lot of the past here in the form of things, but no one else is here. It’s only about us.”

  “But don’t you miss her? How could Eve be bereaved after eight years, and you’re fine after two?” I let him take my hands, and he rubs my palm with his fingertips.

  “Eve never fully recovered from our parents’ deaths. She doesn’t handle things well, you can see that. I had to be the stronger one, even though she’s older.”

  He’s not answering my question, but I am too worn out to press the matter. Instead I swipe my hands away from him, wringing them and exhaling slowly. “I want to like her, but I can’t like her!”

  “Who? Eve? She won’t come over very much, and she’ll eventually warm up to you. You could be a very good influence on her. We could.”

  “No, I mean Noreen.” I whisper her name so she won’t be able to hear if she’s listening.

  “She isn’t here to like. It doesn’t matter what you think of her. You didn’t know her, but I understand you’re getting a picture of her from the house, and the stories you’re hearing. But none of that matters. Your problem isn’t with Noreen. It’s with me. She didn’t leave her own pictures up or her hairspray in the bathroom.”

  I open my mouth to disagree, but then realize he’s right. It’s him. Maybe if she is looking down on us she’s telling him to stop being such a pussy and deal with things.

  “I don’t like to tell you how I feel about all of this because I know it makes me look insensitive and a bit looney.”

  Steve reaches for me and I melt into a full body embrace as he pulls me back down on the bed. “I love you, and you have nothing to worry about.”

  I speak into his neck. “You don’t think I’m a looney?”

  “Oh, yes. Certifiable.” I try to wiggle out of his embrace and he laughs. “But you’re my little looney.”

  I allow myself a weak smile as I pull back and flip my hair out of my face. “I used to be so stable before you came along.” I punch his arm playfully.

  “That was boring. Really, I meant to tell you. That’s why I wanted you to come here more, so your inner looney would shine. You’re much more fun now.”

  We move on to more entertaining activities while all the food and dishes remain in the dining room and kitchen. The cats are probably on the table. I never left food out at my house. I ignore the urge to check it out, and succumb to pleasure and escape.

  I’m not more fun now. At least I’m not having fun. Tonight I was almost scalped by hippie beads, and just barely resisted the urge to punch Steve’s sister in the face.

  Everyone keeps prodding me to talk to Steve about all of this, but has it helped? I’m only avoiding the issue of him avoiding the issue.

  As I look into the mirror as I move on top of Steve in bed, I silently ask, “Why don’t I feel any better?” Luckily no one answers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Saturday morning I actually wake up feeling better. It’s like Steve cast a spell on me, and the events of last night no longer seem as bleak or foreboding. After all, I’m a mature woman, and I shouldn’t be acting like a frightened little girl or jealous, insecure teenager.

  I stretch in bed and the cats scatter. Steve is already up and I hear him banging things around in the storage closet. That’s right, we’re going to work on getting more stuff moved out of th
e house today. Steve even said he was going to take down a few pictures and replace them with pictures of us.

  Throwing back the light cotton blanket, I head to the bathroom to shower. Briefly, I admire myself in the full length mirror on my side of the bathroom. For a middle-aged woman, I don’t look so bad. And now that I’ve gotten my lingerie back, I feel like myself. I shimmy out of my lacy, satin baby doll nightie and step out of the matching thong.

  Once I’ve tossed them in the hamper, I enjoy a warm, refreshing shower. Noreen is gone, and even if he does miss her now and then, she poses no threat to me. How does he know I don’t sometimes miss another man? It doesn’t mean I want them back, and it doesn’t make me love Steve any less.

  As I lather up with my lavender scented shower gel, I hear my phone ringing. Luke. He’s moving into my condo today. If it’s him, I’m sure he has some reasonable need to talk. A question or clarification about something pertaining to the condo.

  I finish in the shower, dry off, and check my messages. No, it’s not Luke. It’s only Claire, calling to confirm that we’re meeting her and Brandon at The Shark Tank to see High Fidelity. They don’t love the band—the music is a little older for their tastes, but they’ve added a few new songs lately to appeal to the younger crowd. Claire has been promising me they will get together with us for the longest time, and Brandon has a rare Saturday night off with his band. Steve and I used to go out dancing all the time, and I am not about to get into a rut as if we were married…

  “Hey, do you want these earrings? I was going through the jewelry again and these would look beautiful on you. They are way too old for Megan.” Steve holds up a dangly ruby earring encrusted with diamonds, and attempts to hold it up to my ear. I flick my head, which causes water from my wet hair to spray all over.