Isle of Palms (11 page)

It made me sad, it truly did. I picked up my watering can and began to give the babies a drink, watching through the windows, sighing all the while that Blanche walked in between and around my legs. Stanley just laid up there, happy in the front window as though a fish was going to fly through the air and land in his mouth.

Cats are nasty things, licking everything and then licking you too, but they were company for a single lady like me. If I found a nice man for me but he was allergic to cats, I’d throw them right out the door and they knew it too. As a result of their ESP, they were extremely well behaved.

I sat down in my pink La-Z-Boy recliner and turned on
Oprah.
I wondered what she would have to say about this May-December nonsense next door. Maybe I would write her a letter. I must have dozed off because the next thing I remembered was Angel turning down the air conditioner and putting my afghan over my legs. Bless her heart, I thought, and drifted back to sleep. I was dreaming about something . . . what was it? Ah, yes, Anthony Hopkins was asking me to dance.
Why, I’d love to . . .

Loose Screws

I CONTINUED to unload the van while Daddy was inside with his toolbox fixing a stubborn sliding door. I could hear him cussing up a blue streak. The thermometer was over ninety and his mood was foul. It was perfectly understandable that he was out of sorts. We had become used to each other, in the same way you sprain an ankle and wonder what you’d do without crutches. We did so many small things for each other and now there would be no one to anticipate his needs. My leaving cut a hole right in the middle of his daily routines and meant that he’d have to clip his own coupons and grocery shop, take in his dry cleaning and pick it up, and all the rest of my share of chores.

To make it worse, ever since I had announced my move, he had second-guessed every decision I made, leaving me with some serious insecurity over my abilities to handle a house on my own. Perhaps the day would arrive when I would decide to live in a condominium at Wild Dunes, where maintenance crews took care of everything. Until that day arrived, I was determined to have my own yard, my own property, and real land.

“Who are you going to call if the roof leaks?”

“You.”

“Where are you going to go if there’s a hurricane?”

“You.”

“Then what’s the point of moving? Wouldn’t you rather travel every year for the same money? See the world? Stay in nice hotels? A mortgage isn’t anything but a rope around your neck!”

“No, that’s not true, Daddy. This house is an investment. If I spend the money on travel, it’s gone. Poof! I have nothing for my future!”

“If you traveled, maybe you’d meet a nice man for your future.”

“That’s a cheap shot, Daddy. I’d rather be responsible for myself than marry somebody for financial security.” This made him mad because that was what he thought my mother had done. “Why don’t
you
travel? Maybe you’d meet a nice
woman.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, okay? All you feminists! You’re all crazy as hell! You ruined it for the nice girls who just want families!”

“Sure. The feminists ruined it for the
nice
girls. That’s what you always say when you know I’m right.”

“Go ahead! You’re gonna do what you want anyway! You always have!”

“So do you and I’m your daughter! Where in the hell do you think I learned to be such a mule?”

The quiet would swallow us until we’d come to the same realization again—that it just wasn’t mentally healthy for either of us to lean on each other like we did. It caused stagnation. Although parents and children we had known forever lived out their days together unless one or the other married—and sometimes you just moved the spouse in and life went on—we knew it wasn’t an optimum situation.

We had traded those same remarks one hundred times in the past weeks. If it wasn’t travel he suggested, he would bring up furthering my education. He was completely riled over the purchase of my house. I ignored him to the extent it was possible. Despite my nightmares over Daddy’s doubts and general unhappiness and my nerves over my
great leap forward
, I was still irrepressible.

He finally came around last night with a new angle to justify my leaving to himself. I was hanging clothes in a wardrobe box when he came into my room.

“You know, Anna, I’ve been thinking.”

Was he going to try again to change my mind?

“Yeah? About what?” I turned and smiled at him, thinking that if he could see my happiness, it would deter the appeal.

“Well, it’s about your mother. You want a glass of tea?”

“Sure,” I said and stopped, followed him to the kitchen and stood by the counter as he poured me a glass. “Thanks. What’s bothering you?”

“Your mother’s parents were closer to my age than I was to her age when I married her, you know.”

I squeezed a wedge of lemon into my glass and let him continue.

“I realize now, looking back, that she married me because I offered her a way to get away from living at poverty level.”

“That’s not the worst thing, Daddy. Her parents were ancient and she was working as a checkout girl at the grocery store. I mean, it wasn’t such a grand life for a beautiful young woman. People marry for a lot of reasons.”

“Yeah, they do. You want a sandwich?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “Open the new salami—the other package is past the expiration date.”

We had a little issue about throwing away food and I knew he would eat anything without fur. I made a mental note to come over and clean out the refrigerator every so often.

“Right,” he said, and pulled out the cutting board. “People do marry for a lot of reasons and even though you and Jim couldn’t make it last forever, that boy always loved you and Emily.”

“I think he always will too.”

“Yeah, but your mother’s motive wasn’t exactly pure. She jumped at the first chance for a respectable life that came along, you know?”

“Look, Daddy, I love you to death. You know that. I’m tired of pee-peeing on Momma’s grave. I think she was young and stupid. That’s all.”

“Baby, listen to me. That’s not what I’m saying here. I’m saying that she didn’t give herself the chance to be on her own for a while and then marry. She never gave herself a chance to find out what she wanted. So this is a good thing for you to do, in that way. Just don’t jump at some foolish guy who promises you the world. If it’s not working out, for whatever reason, talk to me, okay?”

“First of all, I’m not leaving you to find a husband. And, there isn’t a landslide of men around here to date anyway, Daddy. They’re all married or screwed up or losers. And marriage isn’t for everyone, you know. I mean, this is about me living where I have always wanted to live and having a place for Emily and me that’s ours. I’m not exactly the romantic type anyway. And the last thing I’d do is dive into a marriage without considering your opinion and Jim’s and Frannie’s and Emily’s. Right? Come on! You know me better.”

“I do know you better, but I also remember how easy it was for me to convince myself that Mary Beth really loved me. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you posted, okay? Now, finish your sandwich and help me unpack!”

 
I had hardly slept last night, I was so excited. For good reason. All I had to do was look outside. The afternoon sky was filled with so much blue it made me feel like flying. Great pillows and sheer tears of clouds invited the hide-and-seek of angelic creatures. Gorgeous!

I had opened every window in the house and the stuffiness of the rooms was immediately sucked out by the pull of the ocean. The air was as warm and tasty as any I could recollect—a fat-free gumbo of heavy saline, wrapped in the sounds of frond rustle and bird song. It was a perfect summer day. You know it had to be if I was talking
frond rustle.

“Come tell me if this is the way you want it!” Daddy called out. There was defeat in his voice. I hated the mood he was in, but I wasn’t going to let him ruin mine.

“Coming!” I said.

“Hey!” someone called out from above. “Y’all moving in?”

The greeting and raspy voice, unmistakably feminine, came from the house next door. I looked up to see a very blond woman, somewhere in the zone of my age, maybe older, leaning over her porch railing.

“Hey! Yeah,” I said, calling back to her, “just moving in!”

“Good! This neighborhood could use some life! I’m Lucy. What’s your name?”

I smiled up to her and called out, “Anna! Anna Abbot!”

Okay. Maybe it’s impolite to bring this up, but she wasn’t wearing any underwear under her gauze sundress. I am
not
kidding. Normally, I do not care what people wear or don’t wear under their sundress. I thought for a moment that she probably didn’t realize the afternoon sun made her smart little frock all but transparent and so I pretended not to notice. Or maybe she had just taken a shower and was in the process of getting dressed or something.

“Be back in a moment,” I said. The box I was holding wasn’t getting any lighter and then I couldn’t resist the tap of the Devil himself. “Daddy?” I said, all innocence waltzing through my new front door. “Would you mind bringing in the box in the back of the van next to the wardrobe box? It’s too heavy for me.”

He adored helpless females. He came to my aid immediately, grumbling a little. I witnessed a complete mood swing as he stepped out into the front yard and got an eyeful of my neighbor, who was a living mood elevator—a double dose. I was right behind him.

“Hi!” Lucy said, waving and parading full feathers up and down her upstairs porch in the breeze. “Are you Mr. Anna Abbot?”

Daddy looked up. His gasp could have inhaled the entire square footage of Lowe’s in the Towne Centre in Mount Pleasant, including part of the parking lot.

“I’m Dougle Lutz,” he said. “Douglas, I mean, but my friends call me Doc. I’m Anna’s father, Miss . . . ?”

“Ah!” She took a long pause. “I see! I’m Lucy, Dougle,” she said and giggled. “Gimme ten minutes to organize something and I’ll be
rat
over!”

She turned and went inside her house, the screen door slamming behind her. Poor Daddy. He was just blithering spittle every which way and I had to bite the insides of my mouth not to fall over with laughter.

“Great God,” Daddy said under his breath. His face was a parfait of horror, piqued testosterone, and questions of decency. “Did you see that she had no . . . what was her name?”

“Lucy,” I said, groping for an explanation, at the same time asking myself why I thought it was my responsibility to make sense of this cockeyed world for him. “Well? What can I say, Dad? At least the natives seem friendly.”

“Very,” he said.

I slapped him lightly on the shoulder to bring him back to earth. His eyes burned a hole in the space where she had stood moments before. It had probably been quite some time since old Douglas, now and forever
Dougle
in my mind, had witnessed something so provocative in broad daylight—or the dead of night for that matter. The same held true for me, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him or anyone else.

We returned to the piles of boxes all over my house and Daddy was still muttering about her.

“Who was that woman? Where do you want the stereo?”

“I don’t know. Delilah?” Poor Daddy. “I guess the stereo should go here in the living room?”

I had one of those reasonably priced mini stereo units from Wal-Mart that could be tucked neatly into bookshelves. The only major splurge for decorating my new home was a Scandinavian blond wood wall unit for my living room. I had bought it from Katie at Danco in Mount Pleasant. It was beautiful—light but sturdy, clean lines and modern. After years of boards and bricks I decided my books deserved a more dignified resting place. Not a soul on this earth would ever have called me materialistic, but I sure did have an overgrown bed of gardening books, a ton of cookbooks, and a small collection of leather-bound classics that were precious to me. Now I had this wonderful piece of furniture to hold them and I was thrilled by it. Collecting books and preserving them for another generation was a worthy pursuit. If there was one thing Charlestonians understood, it was saving things they loved.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn’t hear my new neighbor rapping on the screen door. Daddy must have, because I looked up to see him talking to Lucy, who held a blender filled with something to drink. She had changed into another outfit—very short overalls and a tight T-shirt. Daddy stood there with his hands deep in his pockets, completely agog, staring at her from head to toe while she drew circles around him with her sweet words of welcome.

“So I said to myself, Lucy?—you need to go on over there and help your new neighbors! Can I pour y’all a drink? I even brought us some paper cups!”

“Sure, thanks a lot,” Daddy said. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

“Hey! Thanks, Lucy,” I said.

She leaned over to pour out the drinks on top of a low box. What appeared to be a frozen fruit drink flowed into the cups. If she leaned over another inch Daddy and I would have more facts about her than we needed to know. I must admit, however, with certain authority, that the moment soon passed when we inadvertently learned that her sofa did not match her curtains, not that I thought they would.

She handed us a cup, lifted hers, and said, “Well, honey? Welcome to the neighborhood and if you ever need a play date, you know where to find me. Cheers!” As she spoke, the sun coming through my living room window bounced around her thick lip gloss to such an extent that her large and expressive mouth became a moving light show. In all my years, I had never encountered someone quite like Lucy. Flamboyant didn’t begin to cover it.

I took a big gulp and struggled to swallow. “What
is
this?” I said, coughing.

“Oh, it’s a sort of frozen Planter’s Punch,” she said, “but it’s my secret recipe! Good, huh?”