Distractions - (March 2017)
Annie and Dottie sit quietly together at the kitchen table with Annie’s joint and Dottie’s cigarette together, unlit, in the crystal candy dish set between them that Annie had decided was better suited as an ashtray. “Your face looks better.” Dottie says without looking up from her grapefruit half that she’s trying to cut with the edge of a small serrated spoon. “This thing is ridiculous.” She announces, pulling the serrated edge of the silver spoon from the pink flesh of the grapefruit.
“It’s been four weeks, I’d hope so by now.” Annie touches the side of her face and thinks of how she’d looked the night JP showed up and how when he’d gently touched her bruise it felt like he’d looked into her soul and she knew they would be ok. “He called last night, and Mama seems better but he’ll be staying there for at least another month.”
Annie leans her head back on the edge of the kitchen bench and thinks of that night in February. When they’d met on the porch as he stood before her with her back at the front door, he didn’t say a word for a very long time and then he’d called her out for always leaving. Reminding her of all times she’d disappeared during their years together when she would forget to check in with him. In Rome when she’d left him alone in the hotel room when she’d decided she needed a drink on the rooftop. Or on the night in Lisbon when she couldn’t go to bed until she’d had an ice cream and he didn’t see her until the next day. Not even a call, she’d just disappeared with Khadijah assuming he would understand.
When Annie tried to justify her actions by blaming Khadijah he had his answer ready. He’d said, “Stop blaming your decisions on her. This is not her fault.” Then he took a step toward her, his arms raised in a gesture that made him look like an Italian gangster in the movies. When Annie laughed he’d deflated. “What? Too much?” he’d said and smiled in a way that raised his cheeks and made his dark eyes sparkle. Annie had stepped forward and let her lips touch his warm cheek, as he moved his lips on hers JP’s right arm fell behind her neck and his left arm pressed her lower back forward. They stood surprised by the passion and familiarity.
“That was a good night,” Annie says lifting her head up and letting her gaze reach the kitchen window before returning her attention to the candy dish before her.
“What about the house in LA?”
“Prada, our housecleaner, JP’s letting her live there. Makes sense, honestly she’s spent more time in that house that we did. Too many years on the road.”
Annie stirs the yogurt and granola mixture with the spoon Dottie abandoned and wonders what JP is doing, but knows it’s no use to think of that now that she’s decided to stay with Dottie, and he was with Mama.
“What’s that? Did Charlie fall” Dottie cries out when she hears what sounds like a sack falling on the ground.
“Just me!” calls the voice from outside. “It’s Mike Fitzgerald, I’m starting the ramp today.”
“Goodness Mikey, you gave me a scare.”
“Do Marines like to be called Mikey?” Annie laughs.
“Retired Marine,” Mike corrects her.
“All grown up but you’ll always be that red-headed terror who let my sister fly away. You might be fooling Dottie and Charlie why you’re here, but I know the truth.” Annie smiles and looks at Dottie and winks. “Have you heard from my little sister?”
“I should get back to work,” Mike mumbles from his side of the window and disappears from Annie and Dottie’s sight.
“My heart is still racing from that,” Dottie exhales. “I’m anxious all the time baby, my stomach and my head hurt. I have to admit that we are going to need more help with Charlie or maybe he’s too sick to stay home.”
“You need a break.”
“Some days I just want to hide out on your porch and smoke. The pressure to be positive and helpful when all he feels is anger and resentment. It physically hurts and I don’t know what to do.” Annie abandons the serrated spoon and reaches across the kitchen table and takes Dottie’s hands in hers. The waves of sadness float up through her chest as the tears burn her eyes. “I don’t want him to die but I don’t know how much longer I can live like this. I want him home but he can be . . . hurtful when he’s uncomfortable.”
“He liked the brownies, he was in a good mood for the rest of the day,” Annie says. “I’ll make another batch tomorrow.”
“We need a new game. I used to believe I could do it all but I don’t anymore. I can’t,” Dottie says. “We need more help with Charlie. And Maeve really has to come home.”
Annie and Dottie sit quietly together, staring into each other’s eyes. Dottie wished she could find the strength to not feel the hurt when Charlie yelled at her or threw what he could across the room when he couldn’t find the words. Her chest felt tight and her eyes often burned with anger that she couldn’t express.
“He’s not the same, he’s so scared and seems to hate himself for being so needy. I’m sorry for what I didn’t do. I didn’t intervene or ask question when what he was telling me didn’t make sense. I knew he was sick years ago, but you know Charlie, he doesn’t trust doctors.”
Annie takes her hands from Dottie’s, picks up the crystal dish and offers her the cigarette. “Maybe I should smoke your joint this morning.”
“You might be surprised.” Is all Annie says before placing the dish between them again. “Maybe there was a time when he listened, was open to new ideas, but that time was long ago. Now his mind is stuck in a place and we can’t change that for him. And honestly, I don’t think he wants to be changed, but he loves us. We can get more help.”
Annie takes the joint from the candy dish and places it between her lips before reaching into her sweatshirt pocket to grab the lighter. As she ignites the twisted paper tip she watches the small flame glow and extinguish as she breathes in deeply. She tilts her head back and exhales with a loud whooshing noise as she brings her gaze back to Dottie. “Charlie is going to get better.”
“No, baby you’re wrong,” Dottie answer without blinking. “It’s better to be honest. I love him and the chaos that brings now, it can feel unnecessary but it’s all just part of being human. I know you think taking care of his life his distracting me from my own, but you’re wrong. He’s gave me a life and I owe him. His soul is suffering and that I can’t help. But I pray and I give. That’s my life now.”
“But why must you always give to him if it hurts you?”
“When you’re poor, even when you’re trying your best you’re still always failing. Charlie changed that for us. He gave me back my color. Charlie, he brought me back to life. I’ll do anything for him, that’s how love works. I will always love him.”
“I support you, whatever you need.” Annie replies taking another drag from her joint, exhaling the wispy white smoke above her head before offering it to Dottie. She declines before Annie extinguishes the tip carefully in the crystal dish. “We can get some help and maybe you just need space to heal before you decide what we do next,” Annie says quietly. “Who am I to talk, I’ve been pining away here for seventy days, I shouldn’t be giving advice I should be praying and giving.”
“Has it been seventy days?”
“Seventy days wasted,” she says. “But I can’t go back now. And I don’t want to be bitter and angry, so I’m starting to figure things out.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Annie hears as her rant ends.
“Sorry Mike, do you need something?” Annie asks turning to see him standing in the dark hallway outside the brightly lit kitchen.
“Couldn’t help but overhearing that you might need some help with Charlie.”
“Mike Fitzgerald, you are already helping so much,” Dottie says wiping the sad from her face. “With a new ramp it will be easier to get Charlie out, in the spring . . .” Dottie stops her words and they sit with her sadness before Annie understands that Dottie can’t say anymore.
Annie pauses for a moment before standing from the table and walks toward Mike waiting with his tool box in the hallway. As she approaches he leans over a bit to be closer to Annie’s ear and whispers, “I have an idea.”
****
“If he thinks I’m only here to fix the porch and help around the house, it’s a good cover me and it won’t offend him. He’s a stubborn old dude. I respect that.” Mike says as they finish their talk.
“Yes, I suppose that’s a good way to look at it,” Dottie replies from her place at the sink, her cigarette tight in her right hand. “I don’t like to lie to him.”
Annie stands from her place with Mike at the kitchen table and takes three steps toward Dottie. “Mom, we’ve gone over this for the past two hours. Mike has military medical training and he’s a big dude. He can help Charlie get around and until it’s obvious, we are going to act like Mike just happens to be here doing work when we need him. There’s plenty of work for him to do, we can finally fix the third floor bathroom.”
Mike stands from his place and walks toward the toolbox he’d left in the hallway. “I should really finish up on that ramp now, and maybe I should look at the bathroom tomorrow?” He smiles and winks at Dottie. “It’s all going to be ok, I promise.”
“We need you and if all you need is to smoke a little weed during the day, all the power to you,” Annie answers, feeling a small weight lift from her chest. “You have saved us, so don’t thank me.”
Mike says with twinkle in his dark brown eyes, “Turns out I like taking care of people better then killing them. And I appreciate the work. I’m grateful, not everyone’s as understanding about the weed thing.”
Dottie and Annie stand together at the kitchen sink watching Mike pick up his tools and make his way out the front door.
“Let’s go have a sesh before Charlie wakes ups and needs something,” Annie says grabbing the crystal candy dish from the table and motioning Dottie to join her upstairs as the bells of St. Catherine’s ring out ten melodic chimes.