"Have you told your father yet?" Marcella asked. She was rubbing beneath Louie's chin, the pair of them grinning at each other.
"No. He didn't want to talk to me until he thought Louie had healed past the emotional ramifications of his procedure," I said. I used air quotes around the word procedure because all of the men in my life who were middle aged or better gave me grief about Louie until they hear he actually had a prostate problem. Then they wanted to buy him a beer, give him a soft pillow, and coddle him. Anyone guess if they had a similar problem and had sympahty pains for the dog? I thought so.
"You know, he's looking to add back to his painting crew," she said. "Business has picked up."
I know she was trying to be helpful. Really she was.
"I don't want to do it full time," I said. "I did it in the summers in high school and college." I hated how tired I was at the end of the day and how I could never get all of the stains out of my clothes. Truth be told, I didn't even want to do it part time, but Dad paid well, we got along, and I could continue to bring in a decent wage.
"I'm not going to sell you on working for your dad. Now, if you want to work for me, I can get you almost full time hours and flexibility if and when you've got interviews."
"Now that's tempting." Even at full time, she would pay less than half of what part time for my dad would pay, but I wouldn't smell awful at the end of the day and I'd have at least a little energy left to do something.
The bell above the door jingled and I said, "I'll get it. I know where everything is."
The dog barked, but it wasn't his defensive bark. It was the happy one he gave when it was my dad or Vic.
"Hey, buddy," the voice said. "What are you doing here?"
"Daniel," I said. "How's it going?"
"Just wanted to say hey to Marcella and tell her I'll be out of town for about a week and then I'll be moving."
OK.
"I should probably talk to you about moving," he said.
"Why should I care if you move?" the words sounded ominous and I wasn't looking forward to what he might have been implying.
"I sold my condo." He shrugged. The look was a little too casual. Whenever I saw that look on Grady it meant he was about to drop a big, bad bomb all over me and things were going to be ugly. Usually it meant that he wasn't finding anything in his newly chosen profession to do or he was going to move us again to yet another city for an even better graduate program. As soon as I knew where I was, made a few friends, he wanted to move. It was just a fluke that we wound up in my home town this time around - god knows, we could have been in alaska by this time.
This wasn't sounding good. "And?" What does this mean to me? Why should I care?
"And I'd like to let you out of your lease," he said. He didn't look sheepish, guilty, or in the least abashed. He actually looked a little smug. "And Louie and I'll be back to our old life."
Old life? In my house? With my dog? I mean our dog, but still.
"I have a lease and it has consequences," I said. "I have lived up to my end of the bargain and I've got another ten months on the books."
"Yes you have, but things change," he said. If he'd been maniacal, I'd have called Chris.He looked past me and raised his hand to Marcella, "Hey. Was going to let you know I'm gonna be out of town for a couple of weeks."
I hate two words, but and however. They both nullify whatever went before. Kind of like, "Gee your hair smells terrific, but it looks like it was run over by a lawn mower." The last bit kinds of takes away from the one sided compliment. Or is it the backhanded compliment. whatever.
But things change meant to me it didn't matter what I had done, how long or how well. It meant that life as I knew it was going to change whether or not I wanted it to.
They exchanged a few pleasantries and I stood there spinning. In less than three months I had lost a long term relationship, my job, two homes, and a dog that I'd never wanted. How much better was it going to get? I have always heard the phrase, that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Now I had no reason to belong to any gym. I was plenty damned strong on my own. Or I needed to talk to the lovely people at the Titzer Family Mortuary and find out what it was going to cost to bury me.
Well, so much for my plans to start my first garden since I was ten. No roses in my front yard. No tulips in the back. Forget about planting hyacnth. And as for the kitchen garden, the one with fresh basil, sage, rosemary, and garlic, well, forget about that. At least now I didn't need to find out about getting the lawnmower tuned up for the summer. No more looking through catalogs to find seeds for heirloom tomatoes. No one would be keeping up the garden.
"Bernie, honey, anybody home?" Marcella must have been trying to get my attention for a while.
"Don't snap your fingers in front of my face," I said. I snapped and was about to lose what little control I still possessed.
"Sorry. Sorry." she said. "You're in overload." It looked like Marcella was about to rub my head like she'd been doing to the dog, but that wouldn't make either of us happy or comfortable.
She went back to her electric kettle and rummaged through a drawer of tea bags looking for something calming and soothing.
"If it doesn't have hard liquor in it, it won't make any difference," I said. There were so many things lately that seemed to be lined up to defeat me and yet I kept dusting myself off and starting all over again. Maybe it was time just to pull up my stakes and go someplace completely different.
"Want me to look at your Tarot cards?" she asked.
"Nah. Divination has never been my thing." I could look at the cards and tell you what colors were dominant and read the numbers and words on them, but really it was all just Greek to me. In fact, cards with Japanese script might have been easier for me to decipher than a Tarot deck. At one point, Marcella gave me a deck of angel cards - sure they were pretty, but trite, so I never bothered with the messages written on them. "I think I'll order a pizza and head for home. Louie, are you ready?"
He walked over to me, leash in mouth, and looked up expectantly.
I'm not into giving the dog commands. He understands what I have to say and we hold great one way conversations. Just like talking to my dad. Well, when Louie was unhappy he'd bark for about thirty seconds, twenty more than my father.
I bent over to attach his leash to his collar. "Okay, fine. We'll spend half an hour at the dog park first and then pick up something to eat." I scratched his ears. "Nothing healthy tonight." I turned to Marcella and said, "He resents uncooked vegetables, they give him indigestion."
"I'll work up a tentative schedule for you tomorrow. Call me and we can discuss things," she said. "This is probably for the best."
The best for who? Or is it the best for whom? I never did get that right. for now possession was nine tenths of the law. I had the house and I had the dog. I would have gainful employment in short order, just not the stuff of my dreams but money coming in.
"And if you've got time, I've got some good news," Marcella said. "It can wait for a better time."
"Oh, I could use some good news. Lay it on me." Please let it be someone who could sculpt my body while I slept for only $19.95. Or better yet, let someone resurrect Ed MacMahon and let me win the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. Do they even have sweepstakes anymore?
"I'm getting married," she said, beaming.
"My father?" Jesus H.
"Sure. We love each other and we're happy together."
Who could tell if and when my father was ever happy? He lived his life either barking at his subcontractors to hustle or his parts people about their pricing. Most of the rest of the time, he hid behind his newspaper and grunted.
She walked beside me and draped her arm over my left shoulder. "I want you to be the maid of honor."
Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to make it."
Tell me about your third cousin twice removed who was a real Grinch who passed away from gangrene due to an infected pinky toe that no one liked, and I'd gladly go to the funeral. Heck I'd do my best to cater for the other two and a half people who showed up. No one supports the tough times, everyone wants you there though for their celebrations.
Funeral rights for a goldfish? Your dead snake? The cousin who took a whiz in a potted plant because he was potted. I'll be there with bells on. I won't cry on command, not anymore, been there and done that. But support the bereaved and find a great place for lunch after, no problem.
"You don't even know when it is," she said. Marcella never pouts but it looked like she was going to do it today.
I blew out a deep sigh. "When's the wedding?"
"Next month," she said. "I wanted to go to St. Barnabas the Destroyer, but since I'm not Catholic and your dad's not Catholic, they didn't really want to do it."
"Why St. Barnabas's anyway?"
"Cool name."
Yeah. The perfect reason to choose a wedding location. Sentimentality? No. Central location? No. Near the reception venue? Not even a consideration. Cool name? Yeah, that's the ticket.
"So where's it going to be?"
"We're going to work on it later. Hey, tomorrow I've got an appointment for my dress fitting and we'll find something great for you to wear."
"I'd really rather not be part of the wedding." I looked at Louie's leash and wanted to tell him to walk me out the door. Instead I unclipped the leash from his collar, scratched his head, and sighed. "Soon. I promise. Two toppings on your hamburger tonight. Cheese and extra cheese."
"But you're the reason we met," she said.
The second night I worked for Marcella, all of the shelves in her stockroom fell apart. She'd overloaded the boards, hadn't sunk anything into the studs, and xyz - because there always need to be three reasons.
When I called her, I told her I could help her get it back together, but didn't have any tools.
"You're handy?" she asked.
"Sure. My dad is Silver Fox Construction and Restoration," I said. "I just don't have any tools with me." Since I'd started working a desk job, I no longer carried what my father had long deemed necessary in my car: step ladder, nail gun, hammer, spare nails, drill (electric), assorted screws, and coveralls. I did have jumper cables, a blanket, a first aid kit, and water. "Let me give him a quick call."
"I don't want to pay for a service call," she said. Her business was still relatively new and she had no spare money to fix things in the shop; she was mortgaged to her ears.
"No charge if I do the work, I just need some tools. Unless you want me to leave and get them?"
"Call your dad and I'll be over to meet him."
I was in the front and left the two of them in the back room and sparks flew. It was amazing that the building didn't burn down. They laid enough kindling to keep things moving because they'd been together almost three years and were now headed down the aisle.
"So, what are the colors?" I asked. Every bride has colors that define her. Me? Whatever is on sale or a couple of years out of date and I can pick up at a second hand place. The store was done in heavy earth tones, lots of browns and oranges.
"Pastel green and a light mauve, I'm thinking," she said. "We'll see what looks good on you."
Wonderful. Just what I wanted.
~~~
tbc 2187
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