Hot Tea (26 page)

She’d worked her way around to the bookcase.  Floor to ceiling.  An educated guess would be four gazillion books - everything from the classics to lighthearted mystery stuff.  I was entering the name of each book, and the author, in case we needed the information for the estate taxes.  I figured we’d probably donate all the books, either to a library or maybe a non-profit senior citizen place.

Suddenly, Teagan let out a shrill laugh.  It was disconcerting in the quiet of the house.

I snapped at her, “What?”

“I don’t believe it.  This whole section is erotica.”

Confused, I said, “What?”

“She has a rather large collection of erotica.  Oh God, this is a bailiwick I would rather avoid.  What are we doing to do with this mess?”

“What do you mean?  What are you going to do with it?  You want to take it home?”

“Not a completely bad idea, but my question was more about do we list it on the inventory or not?  Think about it Dingleberry, we are sending the list of all the things this 312-year-old woman owned to her nieces.  One is a nun.  The other owns a B&B and has never been off the farm.  Plus, not to be unkind, but the girls back in Ireland are as old as dirt too.  These are not people that are going to understand why this lovely older woman has an extensive erotica collection.”

“Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well think about something else, we have to give a copy of the inventory to Mom.”

I tightened the muscles in my neck, which drew back the sides of my mouth, which created the look of a confused duckbilled platypus, my new favorite go to look. 

I said, “Oh yeah, that would be bad, we don’t want to give her any openings for uncomfortable discussions.  Especially since we haven’t had ‘the talk’ since each of us had a guy show up at the service.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“So what do you suggest Teagan?  We can’t just take them.  That’s stealing.  You know what Mom always said.  If you swipe a cookie it will make you choke.  Did you ever try?  I didn’t.  Think about it, if a cookie makes you choke, just what would happen if you stole erotica?”

“Good point.”

“Thanks.”

“I wonder how much the books are worth.  Maybe we should just take them home, and donate an equal amount to the church.”

“That’s a great plan Teagan.  Try to balance the karma of stealing dirty books by giving money to God.”

“Have you got a better suggestion?”

“We could ask Mom.”

She shook her head, “Now we’re back to an uncomfortable situation.”

“How about if we just ask Mom if she wants us to inventory every single thing, or, if she wants us to use our own discretion about what should be listed and what should just go away.  You might want to imply that there is just so much stuff everywhere it would be easier.  Bernie does have a lot of stuff.”

“Hold on Cara, you’re the one with the gift of gab.  You’re the one that’s going to talk to Mom about this.  I’ll completely screw it up.”

“Fine.  Give me your phone.”

“Why my phone?”

I was getting annoyed, “Cause Mom will read the caller ID, expect it to be you, I’ll talk, and she’ll be momentarily confused.  Maybe I can get out the question and get an answer before she sets herself to rights.”

“Damn Cara, you’re a sneaky little thing.  No wonder I was the one that always got in trouble for the stuff you did.  I’m just not good at being so blooming deceitful.”

“Right, and just how is Jessie?”

“Ok, my one attempt at subterfuge, and it came back to bite me in the ass didn’t it?”

“That remains to be seen.  Maybe Mom will assume he’s still gay, and you have a viable cover.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About which?”

“It’s time for us to suck it up and have a talk with Mom.  We’re both grown women.  There is no reason to be sneaking around.  If we want to be in relationships, and live in sin, or not, or whatever, we should have the right to do that without Mom freaking out.  She needs to get used to the idea that we love her, we really value her input, but we are going to live our own lives.”

“When are you going to have that talk with her?”

“I’m not sure.  I figured I’d check to see when you’re available.”

“Me?”

“There’s strength in numbers Cara.”

“No!  You know damn well you can run faster than I can, and you figure you can run out the front door and I’ll be trapped, and you’ll go on to have a nice life with Jessie, and I’ll be …”  I thought long and hard, but couldn’t even imagine what would become of me.  “I like things the way they are Teagan.  It gives us practice for the kids.”

“What kids?”

“Our kids.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“True, but some day we will, and when we do, we will have to be able to look them in the eye and lie through our teeth, because that is what every good parent does.”

“Cara, do you really think that Mom thinks that you and I are actually virgins, and that we don’t do any more than kiss a guy goodnight at the door, and we’re both saving ourselves for our husbands?”

“It would certainly explain why two lovely young women like us are still single and home every Saturday night.”

“Good point.”

“Teagan, I don’t think I want to know what Mom thinks about our sex lives.  I don’t think about hers.  I pray she doesn’t think about mine.  I just want the plausible deniability that we have by not saying anything one way or the other.  She doesn’t ask.  We don’t tell.  It’s disingenuous, everybody knows the truth, it’s a little degrading and crazy making, but I can live with it.”

Teagan rolled her eyes.  “So what you’re saying is that you are not going to live with a guy before marriage, and that you’re going to put forth the façade that you waited until you were married to have any type of sexual relations with him?  Is that your plan?”

“No, my plan is to hold out until you move in with a guy.  Mom can react to that, and when I choose to live with a guy, I’m going to say ‘But Teagan did it!’ and pray that Mom blames you for all my sins.”

“Very mature.”

“No one said it was mature, but it’s worked out for me so far in life.”

“True.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’.”

The one that normally gets us back to the subject at hand first, Teagan, said, “So what are we going to do with the erotica?”

“I’ll call Mom.”

The phone only rang once before Mom picked it up.  I didn’t even have time to panic a bit.  “Hello Cara.”

“Hi Mom.  How’d you know it was me?  I’m on Teagan’s phone.”

“Teagan has a different ring.”

“But I’m on her phone.  It can’t be a different ring.”

“It is to my ears.  Every mother can tell her own children.  Don’t be silly.”

I thought my head was going to explode.  There are times my mother is just plain otherworldly.  No need to discuss it.  No good can come of it.

“Teagan and I are at Bernie’s house.  There’s a lot of stuff here.  It’s gonna take a month of Sundays to inventory every single thing.  Do you really think we need to do that, or should we just kind of sort through things?  Maybe make a pile for the Catholic Charities stuff.  Make another pile for Billy’s church stuff.  Make a pile for her family, and a pile for everything else we can think of, and just record anything that looks like it could be of value, sentimental or otherwise.”

“I trust you girls.  You do what you think is best.”

Total relief.  I should have just hung up the phone, but no, I had to be polite and blurt, “Thanks Mom.”

She continued the conversation, like saying ‘thanks Mom’ is an invitation for further discussion.  She said, “The only exception is her books.  All of them come to me.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one.”

“Mom, she has floor to ceiling bookcases, there are a bunch of books.  You sure you want every single one?”

“Yes I do.  Especially the erotica, Cara Siobhan.”

“Erotica?  We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

I knew, without a doubt, should the bookcase fall on my head, I was going to Hell.  Not only had I lied to my mother, but, I’d lied to my mother about erotica.  There is probably a whole category of sins I know nothing about.  I’m thinking there is a long list of grievous sins that includes erotica and Mom in the same part of your brain at the same time, even if it isn’t by choice.  Yuck.  The thought alone is punishment enough; I don’t need a mark on my soul.  Life is getting more and more complicated.

Mom broke into my thoughts, mostly because she was still talking, “Well, when you do, take note, one of the authors is Bernie.  She didn’t use her given name of course.  I’ll bet you and your sister can’t figure out which books she wrote.”

“Holy Shit!”

“Cara, that’s enough of that!”

“I’m sorry Mom, but damn!  We’re talking about a 381-year-old woman that never, not once in her entire life, missed Sunday Mass.  A woman I’ve never heard say a foul word.  Bernie was a woman that lived alone and seemed to like it that way.  I don’t remember a single comment about a single date in her whole life.  I’d never think our Bernie had it in her.”

“Cara, you can not possibly be so dull as to believe that what a woman presents to the rest of the world, and what she chooses to present in an intimate relationship, are one in the same.  Do you think for a single moment that I believe you and your sister should be wearing white on your wedding day.”

Slightly nauseous I mumbled, “I just never thought of Bernie in those terms.”

“We choose to think that anyone not our peer has no intimate life.  Just what do you think has kept your father interested and smiling all these years?  Cara, your father and I have eight children, just how did you think that came to pass?  A happy, healthy, even an adventurous sex life, is an important part of any woman’s life.”