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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Family Saga, #United States, #Contemporary Fiction, #Sagas

Shem Creek (37 page)

BOOK: Shem Creek
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“You want to eat a hundred-year-old fish?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m strictly a burger man myself.”
“Yeah, sure. Mad cow. Have a ball.” I had seen him put away massive quantities of anything that was put in front of him. He probably didn’t even know what he ate.
She continued to talk and I was surprised to hear that they were endangered and all the better restaurants in Charleston were not going to serve them until their population was replenished. I wondered if Duane and Louise knew about that. They probably did. I thought it made more sense to use local seafood at the restaurant anyhow. Even at my age, I didn’t think people came to Shem Creek for exotic fish from Japan or something. Besides, if we bought fish from the men who had been fishing the waters around Charleston for years, we helped support them. Wasn’t that better for the economy?
Every time the guide made some statement about conservation you could see Jason Miller’s little heart pump right through his shirt. Any reference to the environment got his motor going and we thought that he was acting very, very stupid.
“That old lady was pretty smart,” I said to Alex when we were riding back across the Cooper River Bridge.
“Yeah, she was.”
“You know, my mom had a date with Jason Miller.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, no shit. She didn’t like him. She thought he was a whack.”
“Well, he is a whack.”
“Yeah, but you can’t dump people just because you don’t agree with their politics, you know? I mean, he might not be her—whatever, man of her dreams or something—but that doesn’t mean he isn’t really, really smart, right?”
“Hey, Gracie. Know what? I think this is one of those classes where you just get your grade, get out and don’t look back.”
“You sound like my mother, Alex. You guys are like
way
too conservative.”
“Who?
You

who?

“Fine.
Y’all.
Happy? I just don’t think anyone sees the big picture here.”
TWENTY - ONE
ENCORE
THE phone rang all day long like the thing had nothing else to do. First, Mimi called.
How did you sleep?
Fine, I said, fine. Then Louise called.
How are you feeling?
I have a headache, I said. Headache was an understatement. I didn’t know that you could get that much pain into a single head and no matter how many aspirin I took, the pain was so distracting I could barely concentrate on anything. But Robert and Susan had sent an enormous bouquet and that somehow made my head feel a little better. Brad came by at lunchtime and brought me a cup of soup and a shrimp salad sandwich.
I answered the door barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt; my bed hair was up in a ponytail and my eyes were now an official reproduction of a color wheel. If Steven Cojocaru had been on the other side of my screen door instead of Brad Jackson, he would have said,
Girlfriend, I am too sorry, but put yourself in a box and seal the lid.
But Brad had his own comment.
“Well! Don’t you look fetching!”
“Please,” I said, opening the door. “Like I don’t know it.”
“I didn’t mean to get you up, but I thought you probably didn’t feel like cooking.” He dropped the bag on the counter and opened it up. “Here, eat something.”
“You didn’t get me up. I was just lying in bed thinking about life.”
I wasn’t really hungry until I started eating. But there wasn’t much for me to do besides eat, as Brad talked nonstop.
“Ah, life. Yes, a worthy cause to ponder. Look, I talked to Robert last night and again this morning. We can sue her for assault and Robert says it’s a slam dunk. You’re entitled to all the medical bills, lost wages . . .”
Lost wages?
“And, something for your pain and suffering. Now I don’t want you to worry about any of that because the business will cover your medical and Robert agrees with me that we should cover your salary. I mean, that’s the least we can do.”
Whew!
“Now, in terms of a pain and suffering award, there’s probably not much to get, but you could press charges and have her locked up. In the least case, I think we should have the court order a psychological evaluation and maybe ask the court to consider some anger management training. . . .”
As I finished the soup, sandwich, the pickle and every last French fry, he slowed down. I was finally able to squeeze in a word.
“Brad? I am not suing anybody and I am not pressing charges. It just isn’t something I would do. I don’t like her. She knew it. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and opened my big mouth. I appreciate the offer to cover my hospital bills, but I’m still on Cobra. Remember? However, if you want to pay me for the week, I would really appreciate that and we can just call it vacation or something.”
“Let’s not count this as a vacation. Let’s count it as battle pay.”
We were sitting at the table by the window and Brad had the strangest expression on his face.
“What?” I said.
He reached across the table and took my hand in his and covered it with his other hand.
“I am just so sorry this happened, Linda. I wish it had been me instead.”
“Well, I’m just glad the crazy maniac didn’t hit my temple. I could have been dead.”
“God. Don’t even think that.” His hand pressed mine and he stood to leave. “You get some rest now.”
The pressing of my hand was very sweet. Obviously, he had no interest in seducing me, unless he had a thing for sideshow freaks with black eyes and bulbous lips. No, he was just a friend, but a very special friend who really cared about me.
Bummer.
It was probably time to admit to myself that I would love to be his, I don’t know, girlfriend? Lover? Wife? I didn’t really know what I wanted from him but what he had given me so far was the treasure of his confidence. His friendship. His caring. As I tried to nap I could not help but wonder what it would be like to lie next to him—not with any
you know what
going on—but just to rest by his side. I thought it would be wonderful.
By the time Gracie returned home, I was up, showered and dressed. But like we always say in our family, decent people get up, shower and dress.
I was lying on the couch, watching the news, when she walked in. She tossed her backpack on the floor and opened the refrigerator.
“Hi, Mom! You’re up! You must be feeling better, I hope?”
“I’m alive. I think I’ll feel a lot better when these stupid splints are out and I can breathe normally, you know? There’s a pitcher of tea in there. Help yourself.”
“Uh-huh. Those things would drive me right over the edge. You want tea?”
“Sure. So, how was school?”
No answer. I looked up to see Gracie’s knitted eyebrows and I knew something was bothering her.
“Spill it, Gracie. What’s going on?”
She put my tea on the coffee table and sat on the end of the couch by my feet.
“You’re not gonna like this. You’ve got some serious black eyes now.”
“Yeah, lovely, huh?”
“Well, that woman makes me sick.”
“Forget her. Anger is like a cancer, you know. She’s just crazy.”
“I guess, but if I were you, I’d sue her for a million dollars.”
“You can’t get blood out of a stone, Gracie, and she hasn’t got a million dollars to give.”
“Then at least send her to jail.”
“Why is everyone so intent on me doing something about this woman? Can’t I just get better and go on with my life?”
“God, Mom, you’re like so passive about this.”
“No, I just don’t want all the negative attention it would bring, that’s all. It’s not good for the reputation of the restaurant, she’s got nothing to sue for anyway and I’m still getting my salary. So, bump her!”
“Well, I think she needs like a lobotomy or electroshock therapy.”
“It sure couldn’t hurt. But you know what? If I hadn’t been such a wiseacre to her, she wouldn’t have thrown the soup at me. And if Brad had just been honest with her, she wouldn’t have come in the restaurant ready to kill somebody.”
“Where did she come from anyway and who is she?”
“She used to be Brad’s secretary in Atlanta and she has this crazy obsession with him. She’s been stalking him ever since she got here a few weeks ago. Louise and I can’t stand her. So every time she showed up at the restaurant, we gave her some lip. And she was calling Brad all day and night and he wasn’t returning her calls, so she was plenty pissed, pardon the term. But no one ever expected her to go crazy as a result of it.”
“You know what? Grown-ups are just as screwed up as teenagers.”
“You’re right.”
“And, if I ever get the chance, I’m gonna go all Jersey on her. Like stomp her foot or something.”
“You will do no such thing. She’ll get hers. Karmic rule number one.”
“Yeah, sure. So far all my enemies are living long and prospering. But I actually did learn something today.”
“About what?”
“Endangered fish. Turns out there are like forty varieties of sharks that are disappearing along with Chilean sea bass and orange roughy. We don’t serve any of those, do we?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, we had better take them off the menu or Jason Miller and his environmental goons might come back.”
“I’ll tell Louise. Speaking of goons, how are the girls in school behaving themselves?”
“I don’t talk to them and they don’t talk to me. I’m just doing my time and getting out. I hang with Alex. By the way, I dropped out of his club, Mom.”
“Miller’s?”
“Yeah. Too militant. Besides, that whole scene he pulled that day weirded me out.” Gracie took the channel changer and started surfing the stations, stopping on the Style Channel. “That’s what we need, Mom. We need makeovers.”
“We need more than makeovers. Well,
I
do anyway. Why don’t you join the debate club?”
“It’s all nerds. Besides, I start modern dance lessons with the Charleston Ballet this Friday. Don’t stress. Mimi said she would drive me back and forth. You know what? As soon as you get the splints out, let’s go to Saks and get our makeup done.”
“That is an excellent idea! Actually, it might have to wait until we close on the house in Montclair, but let’s put that on our list, okay?”
“We don’t have to wait that long, do we? I mean, you don’t have to buy anything. They just do your makeup and you can just say,
Well, thanks! Bye!

“Honey, those ladies make their living on commission and it’s not nice to ask them to do your makeup for free.”
“Whatever. I got homework. What are we doing for dinner?”
“Pizza? Call Domino’s?”
“I can handle it. And, hey, Mom? I can get my driver’s license by Thanksgiving!”
“Excellent! Know what? I was thinking of trading my car, but I thought I’d save it for you. What do you think?”
“The Blue Buzzard? The one with a billion miles on it? Ah, Mom, come on. It’s too good for me.”
“Well, you can always buy your own.”
“Did I tell you how much I love the Blue Buzzard? How sentimental I am about it?”
“Ingrate. But I’m glad you’re starting dance again.”
“I’ll call Domino’s.”
That night and for the rest of the week, we ate pizza, Chinese food and whatever anyone brought us. I wasn’t going anywhere, even in sunglasses. Mimi was in and out of our house with her war chest of cosmetics, trying to figure out how to help me hide the black eyes. There just wasn’t much that could be done.
The splints came out, and a few days later so did the stitches, and I was left with some bruising and a bright red scar between my eyebrows, which I covered with a small Band-Aid. I was feeling much better by the following Tuesday and wanting to return to work. At least by then I felt like my face wouldn’t traumatize small children. And, let’s be honest—I was bored silly.
Tuesday afternoon, Brad brought Gracie home from school with Alex. It was a good thing I was dressed because they all just walked in the door. I was sitting on the terrace, reading the newspaper, enjoying the mild weather.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Hey! How was school?”
“Life-changing! How are you doing? Hey, Alex! You want popcorn?”
“Sure,” Alex said.
I came inside to greet them and Brad was positioned by the door.
“Well! You look much better!”
“Thanks! I feel much better. It’s just these freaking black eyes that are driving me crazy. Have you heard from Amy?”
“They’re not so bad. Yeah, Amy went back to Atlanta.”
“Hopefully forever.”
“Yeah. She’s not right in the head.”
“Yeah, you think?”
“Yeah. I think. Hey, want to go look at the garage? I was thinking about it. If you’re bringing furniture back from New Jersey, you’re gonna have to put it somewhere and maybe we could get it emptied out before then? Come on, let’s have a look.”
BOOK: Shem Creek
8.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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