Foxy's Tale

by Karen Cantwell

  “Amanda, dear,” Foxy started, and Amanda flinched. The “dear” carried more weight than the usual lead-in from Foxy. Whatever she had to say would require real control on Amanda’s part. “I understand that while I was away . . .” Her voice trailed off, but Amanda didn’t jump into the breach. Foxy glanced from Amanda to the desk to the window to the bed. She walked over and sat down on the corner of it, so that the bed sagged a little. She crossed her leg and studied her nails. “I understand . . . that is, I’ve been told . . . I mean . . .” She stopped again.

  Amanda wanted to yell: “Spit it out, Foxy.” But she remained silent. She was not going to help her mother, no matter what.

  “What I mean is. . .” She stopped again and Amanda felt a groan inside. She was sure Foxy was about to have “the talk,” and she dreaded this more than anything else Foxy could have been cooking up.

  “I heard it from Knot. And he swore me not to say anything. He only told me because I’m your mother, and he thought I should know. I mean really you ought to discuss these things with me. I am your mother and I do have experience that you don’t and, well, you just should talk to me.” She stopped and stood and walked to the window. Amanda hoped that was it. But Foxy didn’t leave the room. Not yet. She was waiting for Amanda to offer something, but Amanda had no idea what she wanted her to say. Amanda was on the verge of asking what Knot told her when Foxy swirled around and faced Amanda.

  “It seems you have a boyfriend.” Hands on hips, pout on face, Foxy acted as if she’d been lied to by her daughter. “And that he came to the house in my absence. What do you have to say to that, young lady?” Now that Foxy had gotten to the point, she’d worked herself up into quite a lather.

  “Nothing,” Amanda said.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Thanksgiving. The name said it all, but the small group sitting at this Thanksgiving feast did not exactly reflect an atmosphere of thanks or giving. The snow had turned to sleet. It clicked against windows and transformed the outside world into a candy land of glittering streets, tree branches, sidewalks, cars, statues, and street lamps. Nothing moved. Everything had an iced coating, so that looking outside from a window it seemed like a candy city, something created by a confectioner for a winter window display. By mid afternoon, tree limbs heavy with snow and ice began to crack under the weight. Snapping like pretzels all over the city, crashing to the streets below, ice splintered off like a thousand shards of glass. Just outside the city, power lines bowed to breaking, while trees leaned until they collapsed onto already weak lines. Sparks flew. Electric current to houses cut off suddenly, and emergency crews fanned out across the region with lights flashing orange and chains kachinking along iced-over roads. Earlier, Myron hadn’t answered Foxy’s knock at his door. Either he had gone out or was not interested in socializing.

  So it was just the threesome for the late afternoon meal. Between Amanda and Foxy there was still a wall of unspoken words. Knot bustled around the kitchen, which was separated from the dining area by a gray-speckled granite counter. He placed all the utensils and plates on it for Amanda who’d been designated the holiday table setter. She walked between counter and table as if in a fog, her mind elsewhere. She set the table, arranged the serving bowls for Knot, but didn’t speak. Knot wasn’t one to abide a silent room for long.

  “Why so glum, Miz Amanda?” He sounded like a camp counselor, and he was wearing a big white apron that said Chief Gobbler across the chest, with a picture of a turkey wearing a feathered headdress and holding a huge baster.

  Amanda didn’t even tease him about it. Instead she glared at him, but he was busy food processing boiled yams and didn’t see the look. She wondered if she should say anything about him spilling the beans to Foxy but decided against it. For now anyway. She plunked three plates on the table and wandered to the window to look out at the crystalline landscape. She almost hoped to see Nick standing there, but she knew that was ridiculous because of the weather and his responsibilities at home, especially today. She felt a strange mixture of worry and excitement, which was hard to sort out and even more difficult to explain to herself.

  “Oh, come on now,” Knot said from the kitchen. It was a big open space that encompassed kitchen, dining, and living rooms all in one. Being an old house that was built to stay cool in the hot summers, its ceilings were high. When it was originally built, the kitchen would have been outside behind the house. But it had gone through many renovations over the years, this incarnation by the gay couple who had sold it to Foxy’s ex’s business manager being the last. “Give us a little sign that you’re not going to stay angry all through this incredible meal.”

  Amanda looked up at him, and this time he was actually watching her. He smiled and waved an oven mitted hand at her. “A little smile won’t kill you. My Lord, I’ve never seen you act so teenagery before. What is it?”

  Amanda couldn’t stand it any longer, and she broke her silence. “You told.” She said it flatly.

  “Told? Me? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” He turned back to the yams and spread them in a square glass oven dish before sprinkling brown sugar over them and then pecan halves and more brown sugar. “Oh yum. This is going to be so good. Come on over here and I’ll show you how to make a fabulous cranberry bread. No rise. Very simple. And elegant when it comes out all crusty.”

  Amanda walked slowly over to stand next to him. He put an arm around her and gave her a little hug. “I really do know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you do,” she told him and pulled away. “I thought I could trust you. You’re supposed to be the one who has so many secrets.”

  “Moi?” Mock surprise spread across his face. “Look, sweet pea, I had to tell your mother. You and she must talk. She’s very down in the dumps over something that happened in Palm Beach. And I can tell your young man is in some sort of – shall we say – situation? You just are not old enough to handle everything by yourself. I know you think La Fox is a big child, but she’s not. And you are. So share with her. I’m just saying.”

  Amanda watched him mix flour and baking powder and sugar and milk and add cranberries and mix up a big lump in a wide china bowl. He pushed it around and kneaded it a little and then formed it into a round ball. He placed this on a cookie sheet and pushed down on it to form a round loaf. He brushed it with some milk and then sprinkled it with brown sugar and popped it into the smaller oven above the one where the turkey was roasting. Amanda couldn’t help but admire his efficiency and confidence in the kitchen.

  “Why didn’t you become a chef?” she asked.

  “Oh,” he sighed. “My daddy wanted me to be a lawyer like him. That was before I came out. After that he just gave up on me. I was never encouraged to do any of the things I liked or was good at. He made me play baseball. Can you imagine?” Knot waved a hand in the air as if he was brushing away a fly. “I’m not sure I would be any good at this as a profession, anyway. It’s a lot harder than it seems.”

  “I’m thinking about going to culinary school instead of college,” Amanda said and was surprised that she’d shared this with him, especially after what he’d done.

  “All I can say is, tell Foxy about it. She really does worry about you. She wants you to be happy.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  On her walk to the Metro every day, Amanda passed a small French clothing store called Chouette. For some reason, in the first week of December, a sunny day with a clear, blue sky above, she stopped at the window and peered at the display. The clothes were pinned from strings pulled taut so that they looked as if they were stretched, but in a cute way, kind of like an art installation. There was a flowered silk dress with a ruffle down the front and long sleeves, with smaller ruffles at the wrists. Next to the dress, slouched onto a mannequin’s head, a red angora hat pulled to one side of the mannequin’s blank face caught Amanda’s eye. Around the mannequin’s throat, a matching scarf had been wound around once and then pulled to one side and
pinned to a line as if it was blowing in a fake wind. The mannequin had no arms, which interested Amanda. She imagined how the red boots Foxy bought her would fit with the hat and scarf. The whole look of the window was cute and a bit playful, yet also sexy, as if whatever you would wear out of there would make you irresistible.

  Amanda realized she’d been staring for too long, and the shop wasn’t open yet anyway, so she hurried on to catch her train and meet Nick. At least she hoped he’d be there. She hadn’t heard from him over the holiday. She worried about that. She thought about Foxy. About talking to Foxy, confiding in her. She wondered what would happen if she did. She wondered for the whole train ride and while she was walking up the steps to the street. She looked around, but Nick’s car was not there. So she continued to the bus, and now she was really worried. Her mind started playing games. What if he told her too much and now he was embarrassed. What if she said too much and he was sorry he’d told her. What if that woman, Mariah, got to him again. What if, what if, what if. It was endless and led her in a big mental circle.

  She didn’t see him all day. It was a big high school. There had been other days when she hadn’t seen him. It was not all that unusual. But today it felt different. She saw one of his track teammates coming out of the cafeteria. It was unlike Amanda to talk to someone she didn’t know, but she mustered her courage and approached him.

  “Hi, Kevin?” she said it loud enough for him to hear but tried to keep her voice low enough so she didn’t attract attention. School was like a village where everybody was always into everyone else’s business. No one was exempt.

  “Yeah,” Kevin looked up and saw her standing there, hands hidden by her long black sleeves.

  “I’m Amanda,” she was losing courage every second.

  “Yeah. I know who you are. You’re going out with Nick.”

  Amanda blinked a couple of times. This was news to her. Big news. So Nick had told other guys about her.

  “Well,” she said, “we’re not really going out. I mean, you know . . .” her voice trailed off.

  “Nick told me you are.” Kevin waved at someone down the hall and Amanda felt she’d better ask her question quickly.

  “Is he in school today?”

  “Nick?” Kevin asked as if she might have been talking about someone else.

  “Yes. Is he?”

  “Naw, he stayed home today. His father’s sick, and he has to take him to the hospital or something. Someone’s there helping him. Some woman from down the street or something like that. A nurse I think. Hey, I gotta run to class.”

  He jogged off down the hall, and Amanda stood there in shock. She pulled her cell phone out of her backpack and dialed Nick’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. She texted him and watched for an answer, but nothing came back. Now she was frantic. She had to do something. She thought maybe she should go to Nick’s house and knock and see what was going on. But she didn’t even know where he lived, and she didn’t have a car. She would have had to ask someone to drive her. And she had two more classes, and then she was supposed to go to Spanish club. Her stomach felt as if a horse had kicked her.

  The rest of her school day went by in a blur and then, just as she was about to leave the building to head for the bus, she got a text from Nick.

  @ hspitl dad sik im ok tho

  And that was all. She texted him back right away but heard no more. She decided to make herself forget about it, but by the time she arrived home she realized that was going to be impossible. She had planned to make tacos for her dinner, but Foxy had come up from the store early.

  “I wish you had a normal job,” Amanda told her. She was preparing the fixings for the tacos, cooking the meat in a frying pan and heating the shells in the toaster oven. She had shredded the lettuce and put out a bowl of salsa and another of grated cheddar cheese.

  “What do you mean normal?” Foxy was surprised by this all of a sudden. “I’m doing what I can do. Who do you think would hire me for anything? I have no training except how to walk down a runway in three inch heels without falling on my face. Not much call for that in the job market, is there? Besides, we’re doing really well with the store. And when we get those pieces from the Florida show, we’ll have a great December. You have nothing to complain about.”

  “It’s so lame,” Amanda said. She felt like crying. She hadn’t heard a word from Nick. She stirred the meat and watched it sizzle. “I’m going to culinary school instead of college.” It was not a request. It was a statement of fact.

  “Good idea,” Foxy said it without any hint of the disappointment Amanda expected.

  “Really? You don’t mind?” she asked. It’s the first time all day she’s come out of her funk.

  “Of course not. You should do something you love. And you seem to love cooking. I wish I could cook but . . .” Foxy spread her arms as if she felt she’d been dropped in an alien environment with no coping skills whatsoever. “I may as well have been brought up by wolves.”

  Amanda giggled. Suddenly she felt lighter. “Foxy,” she said tentatively.

  Foxy looked at her daughter almost as if she was seeing her for the first time, which was ridiculous since they’d been living together for so long. But in a way, Foxy was seeing her with fresh eyes. At least she was sensing Amanda as her own person, separate from Foxy, with her own needs and hopes and fears. Foxy had never thought about this before. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the love she felt for her daughter and wanted to reach out to hug her but at the same time realized this would not help Amanda with whatever was burdening her.

  “Yes?” was all she said.

  “What would you do if someone you really cared about was in trouble, and you didn’t have any idea how to help them?”

  Instead of jumping right in at that moment, which was what Foxy would normally have done, she thought before telling her daughter, “Sometimes there’s nothing you can actively do to help someone else. Sometimes they just need you to listen. But you can be there, ready to help if they ask. You can show you care by including that person in your life somehow. For instance, you could ask him to come over for a meal and just hang out with you. That’s something you can do.”

  *****

  Amanda’s Life in Hell (she wrote)

  This new Foxy will take some getting used to. I don’t know what’s going on. With Foxy or with me. But I like it, I think. Maybe I should let Foxy off the hook. Anyway, some of the time. She still needs a lasso once in a while.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Nick missed a whole week of school. He came by to meet with his teachers and the school counselor. They gave him his assignments and the counselor listened to him talk about how sick his father was and how he was going to be in the hospital for at least a week, and then he may have to be moved to a nursing home for a while. The counselor nodded understandingly, asked Nick how he felt about everything that was happening, and Nick answered with what he assumed the counselor wanted to hear. His father had been sick for a few years. Nick had come to accept it. He didn’t tell the counselor about the women down the street. No school counselor could possibly have jumped on that bus.

  Nick emailed Amanda the whole story but said nothing about Mariah or the others. Amanda didn’t ask, either. She was afraid she’d scare Nick away, and she wanted him to trust her. He accepted her invitation to Sunday brunch but said it had to wait until the next weekend – the second weekend in December. Amanda said they could watch a game, too. He said that’d be cool. He called her one night during the week. It was a surprise. Amanda was already in bed, just falling asleep, when her cell phone buzzed. She reached for it blindly but felt instinctively that it must have been him.

  “Amanda?” he sounded tense. “You there?”

  “Yes,” her voice sounded muffled, sleep-tinged.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “Sort of. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you called me at . . . what time is it anyway?”
r />   “Twelve-thirty. Yeah I’m sorry. It’s late; I should go.”

  Amanda sat up in bed and plumped her pillow behind her back. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m awake.” Now she really was awake. All the worry flooded back. She rubbed her right eye. Nick didn’t say anything and Amanda waited. When he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “How’s your dad?”

  “Bad.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “Well, the docs say he has to stay where he is until they get him stabilized, and then he can be moved to a nursing facility until he’s strong enough to come home. It sucks.”

  “What are you doing at home? I mean you’re all alone.”

  “That sucks, too. I got so used to taking care of him. It feels like someone cut a hole in the house and there’s all this cold air rushing through it. Also, because I’m not eighteen yet, they’re sending family services to check up on me twice a week. If Dad doesn’t come home this week, they say I can’t stay here alone.”

  “What does that mean, really? I mean, do you have a relative or someone who can stay with you?”

  Nick laughed, but it was not a fun laugh. It was a nervous cynical laugh, and he stopped abruptly.

  “What’s that about?” Amanda asked, but she had a suspicion.

  “You-know-who keeps coming around. And now she’s sending Mimi every day to ask if I need anything. It’s creepy how beautiful Mimi is. I mean she looks so normal. Maybe she would be, if she could get away from the others. She’s really nice to talk to. She’s very understanding.”

  Amanda sat up straighter. Her heart started to throb. She felt it in her temples and her neck, like a rabbit’s foot was thumping against her from under her skin.

  “Understanding?” she repeated it as if she might not have heard him right. “You’re letting her into your house?”