Authors: Patti Hill
Seeing Things (17 page)
“I'm sorry, Ma, I can't.” He poured coffee into a travel mug. “There's a meeting, too much to do.”
“It takes a minute to fry an egg, less to eat one.” I lowered bread into the toaster. “You have to eat.”
Andy slipped into his suit jacket. He threw his wallet and keys into his briefcase and closed it with a
snap-snap
and kissed my cheek. “I'm glad you're feeling better, Ma.” He started for the door. “Fletcher! We're out of here!”
snap-snap
and kissed my cheek. “I'm glad you're feeling better, Ma.” He started for the door. “Fletcher! We're out of here!”
I followed him, hop scooting as fast as I could without the walker. “Wait a minute,” I said to his back. “Fletcher needs to eat something.”
Andy worked his fingers into leather gloves. “I give him money.”
“He hates the cafeteria. He doesn't eat until he comes home.”
“He hasn't said anything to me.” Andy yelled up the stairs. “Fletcher, get yourâ!”
I fought to keep my voice even, pleasant, nonjudgmental. “When, exactly, would he have the chance to do that? You're never here. He orders take-out food every night. A growing boyâ”
The bite of Andy's tone let me know I'd failed on all points. “Ma . . .”
. . . the full extent of his love . . .
“Let me scramble an egg and slap it on some toast. He can take the sandwich with him. At least he'll have something.”
Fletcher thumped down the stairs.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Andy yelled at him.
“Sorry.”
“Andy?” I pleaded.
He looked at his watch. “I'm already late.”
LUPE AND I ATE our breakfast on the patio, our backs to the sun like lizards. She mopped egg yolk off her plate with a bagel and gestured with it as she talked. “These people, they are like those big yellow butterflies that never land. I chased a pair of them butterflies around the yard, trying to take their picture with my cell phone to show my granddaughter. Those crazy butterflies never did land, except for on the very top of a bush. I wasn't about to stand on no ladder to take a picture of a butterfly.”
“I need your help, Lupe. You know my family better than I do. What do they need?”
Her palms flew up in surrender. “Nothing. If they need something, and I mean like a truck that isn't over a year old, they goMiz Doctor Lady couldn't find her camera. She looked everywhere, blamed everyoneâand I mean everyoneâfor moving it from its place in the drawer. My nephews don't swear so bad as her sometimes. The mister and the boy huddled by the front door afraid to say nothing. Finally, she stomped past them and said, âWe'll stop at Best Buy. There's one on Federal.'” Lupe spread cream cheese on a second bagel. “The good cameras cost more than I make in a week, and she didn't even check the newspaper for sales.”
The camera Suzanne had dutifully pulled out during my Christmas visit easily cost four times that much. If I meant to demonstrate the full extent of his love to my family, I would have to do so at no charge, exactly like a servant. “If the family had a servantâ”
“I'm no servant. I'm a housekeeping manager, but I do everything they don't want to do. The cleanest toilets in all of America are in this house. About a week after I started working for them, Miz Doctor Lady took samples of water from the toilet to a lab.” Lupe crossed herself. “Thank the Lord I used extra bleach that day.”
I wasn't ready to give up. “Down deep, they must need something. Everybody does.”
Lupe's chair scraped across the tile. “I do the best I can.”
I grabbed her hand. The tips of her fingers were cracked and rough. “I know you do. You should feel very good about what you do here. You make this house sparkle.” I tugged on her hand. “Please sit with me.”
“You want to pray again, don't you? I talked to Sister Corazon Barbara about you.”
“She backed me up, didn't she?”
“She wants to know if you belong to a cult.”
“Tell her I'm a Baptist.”
Lupe rubbed at a spot, real or imagined, on the tabletop. “Maybe you should pray for an immaculate conception.”
“That's already been done.”
“No, really. Miz Doctor Lady has an appointment with a . . . a doctor who helps you get pregnant. I never needed no help from a doctor. If Ernesto looked at me from across the room, I started throwing up the next day.”
“How do you know about the fertility doctor?”
“I'm invisibleâ
poof!
âlike I don't exist to Miz Doctor Lady. She made the appointment while I was cleaning the bathroom. She talked about her temperature and how the mister would be at the appointment with her to provide a freshâwhat do you call it?”
poof!
âlike I don't exist to Miz Doctor Lady. She made the appointment while I was cleaning the bathroom. She talked about her temperature and how the mister would be at the appointment with her to provide a freshâwhat do you call it?”
“Specimen?”
“That's it. I never heard her so worked up. I peeked around the corner, but her hair covered her face. She talked to the mister too. I turned the water on in the sink, so she would talk louder.”
I should have told Lupe to keep the gossip to herself, but I didn't.
“She told the mister that he better make a way to be at the doctor's no later than three. Success depended on a fresh . . .”
“Specimen,”
I said, my mind tumbling. Specimen and procedures meant Suzanne and Andy were more serious about parenthood than I thought.
I said, my mind tumbling. Specimen and procedures meant Suzanne and Andy were more serious about parenthood than I thought.
“Pray with me, Lupe.”
“I'm not kneeling on the rock.”
“We'll pray Leonardo da Vinci-style, sitting in these cushy chairs.”
“I had an Uncle Leandro, he mumbled like an old woman after a few beers, but I don't think he prayed much. Maybe when he bet money on his
fútbol
team, but he didn't dare tell
TÃa
Rosalina. She carried a knife in her girdle.”
fútbol
team, but he didn't dare tell
TÃa
Rosalina. She carried a knife in her girdle.”
I extended my hand to her. “Let's hold hands then.”
“I don't think so.” She bowed her head.
I withdrew my hand. “Lupe?”
“I still have three toilets to clean.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I prayed. “Lord, we know something we shouldn't know about Suzanne and Andy, so we come to you on their behalf to ask that your good will happens in their lives today.”
Lupe looked up. “Shouldn't we be praying for a baby to happen?”
“Go ahead.”
“Out loud?”
“Whatever's comfortable for you, Lupe.”
Roger, the gardener, started a lawn mower in the front yard. Bee ran to the gate to bark at him. Trash cans thundered against the waste pickup truck in the alley. I was about to prod Lupe on when she prayed:
“Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada dÃa. Perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden. No nos dejes caer en tentación y lÃbranos del mal.”
“Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada dÃa. Perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden. No nos dejes caer en tentación y lÃbranos del mal.”
Bee nuzzled my pocket for a liver treat. Roger revved the lawn trimmer. Lupe kept her head lowered.
“I don't think I heard anything about a baby,” I said.
“I'm getting to that.”
“Take your time.” Bee nibbled at my pocket, so I slipped a few liver treats her way as I waited.
“También, nuestro Padre, ayude a la señora a tener a un bebé. Tal vez entonces ella no sera asà excéntrico.”
Be-bee? Ex-SEN-tree-ko?
“Amén.”
“Amen.”
Lupe's chair scraped against the stone, and she gathered the plates and cups. “It's time to get to work.”
FLETCHER STARTED THE TRUCK. “Where to, Grandma?” He thrummed the steering wheel with his fingers.
“My, my, aren't we getting confident?”
“Shu mai sound good?”
“Are we listening to
Huckleberry Finn
tonight?”
Huckleberry Finn
tonight?”
“I have a French quiz and a chem lab due tomorrow.”
“Let's save a trip to Snappy Dragon for another day then.” I tapped my chin, making like I had no idea where I wanted to go. A bristly poke to my finger reminded me to get the tweezers out. Back home Josie let me know when my whiskers got too distracting for conversation. That's friendship. “Where does Mi Sun live?”
He straightened. “Why?”
“Just a drive-by, Fletcher.”
“We're not stopping.”
Bee pushed my arm from the window to bark at something. “Sit down, Bee!” I raised the window with a hum. And to Fletcher, I said, “Of course not.”
“She lives across from the park.”
“Bee loves parks. It's a lovely day, the first warm day in a week. I think the park is the place, don't you?”
At a stop sign, Fletcher rested his chin on the steering wheel.
“What are you thinking about?”
“There's diagonal parking on the south side of the park.”
“Excellent. We'll stop by the pet store on the way.”
“I'm not completely comfortable with that, Grandma.”
“Everything will be fine. I'm on a mission from God.”
“WE'RE ALMOST THERE,” FLETCHER said between clenched teeth. He slowed slightly. “She lives on the right. There it is, her house. On the corner. Don't look at it.”
Opposite Mi Sun's house, a most accommodating length of curb presented itself. “Stop! Park there,” I said, pointing at the curb.
He slowed. “I don't know about this.”
“We'll only stop for a minute. To see her house I have to concentrate.”
Fletcher sidled the truck along the curb. Across the street, a brick bungalow, a hobbit sort of house with its rounded door and stoic façade, winked in the afternoon light. A splash of red along the walkway hinted at a border of tulips. Huck sat on the curb, waving.
I patted Fletcher's shoulder. “See? Nothing terrible happened. You're safe behind the tinted windows.” I looked back to Mi Sun's house. “I like her house. It's sensible and tidy.”
Bee stepped over the console to join us in the front. Clipping her leash on, I said, “Unless you want puddles of dog drool all over the seats, I think we better get Bee out of the truck.”
Fletcher tied Bee to a bench while I unfolded the walker at the curb. We'd decided on a short walk to the lake and back when Huck crossed the street to join us, and Mi Sun called from the porch. “Fletcher! Don't go anywhere! I have to get my shoes on.”
“Oh man, oh man. I'm busted,” Fletcher said, covering his head with his arms.
“What? She's happy to see you. Couldn't you hear that?”
“She'll think I hunted her down.”
“She'll think you're a nice boy who isn't above taking your grandma to the park. Besides, I'm sure she saw you driving.”
“Yeah? Cool.”
Huck mocked, gagging himself with a finger down his throat. I turned from him to look at the rose bushes, afraid I'd give his presence away. The roses sported burgundy leaves, and with a cautious touch, I found teardrop buds. Blooms were still a couple weeks off. Mi Sun took the roses' lack of performance personally. “This is terrible. You came to the park to see flowers. We can walk to the annual garden. Something has to be blooming there.”
I doubted the gardeners had even planted the annual garden yet. What do young girls know of frost warnings? From her enthusiasm I wasn't sure Mi Sun had noticed the walker or the enormous black boot on my foot. Her confidence ignited a spark in me, nevertheless. “Which way?”
Mi Sun, as talkative as a parakeet, only more melodious, wore a hooded sweatshirt and red Converse tennis shoes. Her black hair, held out of her face by a broad yellow headband, shimmered in the sunlight. Best of all, she answered my questions about school and her family with complete sentences. And she asked about living in Ouray and my painting, meaning I'd been a subject of conversation for her and Fletcher while beakers warmed. I liked her.
My good leg felt like rubber by the time we reached the annual garden. “Can we sit for a few minutes?”
Mi Sun and I sat on a low concrete wall while Fletcher and Huck sat on the grass with Bee between them. Beyond, geometric plots of earth stood out from the greening grass, most likely the annual garden awaiting longer days and warmer nights to receive seedlings.
Huck reached out a skeptical finger to touch the top of Bee's head and withdrew it quickly. With two fingers he stroked the length of her back. Bee lay down and rolled onto her back, exposing her pale belly. He looked to me, a question etched in his face. I nodded ever so slightly. Huck rubbed small circles on Bee's belly. She stretched to luxuriate in his attention. Huck obliged her with a vigorous massage. I startled when Mi Sun asked me a question.
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