Читать книгу Lessons From A Younger Lover - Zuri Day - Страница 14

The jazz music streaming from the radio sitting on Mama Lorraine’s kitchen counter provided the soothing atmosphere Gwen needed. She smiled as she moved her body to the rhythm and put up groceries. Since arriving in Sienna, her schedule had been hectic. But she’d gotten a lot done. In just over a week, she’d bought a car to replace the gas guzzler she’d sold before leaving Chicago, checked out several assisted living facilities, and with the help of her mother, had narrowed the choices down to two. And the biggest and best news? She’d received and accepted the official offer to teach at Sienna Elementary.

Orientation was a week away, so the faster she got her mother settled in and adapting to her new living arrangements, the better. She didn’t want to leave Lorraine alone all day. Even with Miss Mary nearby, she couldn’t depend on her mother’s neighbor to be responsible for watching Lorraine’s every move. It pained her to think of her mother anywhere but in the home she’d shared with Harold for the past thirty years, but at the end of the day, the only thing that remained constant…was change.

As if thinking about Mary Walker conjured her up, the doorbell rang, followed by Mary’s familiar “’lo, Lo”: ’lo short for hello, and Lo, the nickname she gave Gwen’s mother when they’d met decades earlier.

Gwen walked over and opened the door. “Come on in, Miss Mary. Mama’s in the bathroom.” She continued talking as Mary followed her into the kitchen with a covered casserole dish. “I see you’ve been cooking again. What do you have that smells so good?”

“Oh, just a spaghetti casserole I whipped up. You know I can never cook just for myself. Thought I’d come and share it with you and Lo.”

“Well, that’s sure nice of you, Mary,” Lorraine said as she rounded the corner. “It seems like I can never get this stove to work since Gwen’s been home. I need to have the man come out and fix it.”

Gwen and Mary exchanged a knowing look. “I’m sure everything’s working just fine,” Mary said. “You just need somebody here when you’re cooking.”

Lorraine’s face contorted into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I’m plenty grown, Mary Walker, and been cooking since I was ten years old. I know my way around a kitchen and don’t need nobody to help me cook!”

“Mama, why don’t you and Miss Mary visit while I make a salad?” Gwen underscored her suggestion by gently placing her arm around her mother’s shoulders as she walked her toward the living room sofa. “And if you want, I’ll make a nice pitcher of your favorite lemonade.”

Fortunately, the rest of Mary’s visit went smoothly. It was one of Lorraine’s good days, and she lucidly chatted about Gwen’s childhood in Sienna, Mary’s daughter who lived in Phoenix, and the new boyfriend Mary was considering for a live-in love interest.

“He’s a nice enough man, and these days it’s dangerous for a woman to live alone,” Mary responded when asked why she’d consider “shacking up,” the term Lorraine had used to describe her friend’s plan.

“But hasn’t it always been pretty quiet in Sienna? Other than a few teenaged pranks, vandalism, broken windows, a stolen car here or there?”

“Gwen, things have changed, even in this small town. Ever since the drugs and gangs sprung up in Los Angeles, our little piece of heaven on earth hasn’t been the same. You know Viola’s boy, Thomas?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s right, you were gone by the time he came along. He’s probably fifteen, twenty years younger than you. Well, anyway, he was arrested for robbing Ms. Disney’s house, got caught as he tried to climb back out her dining room window. And she was right there the whole time, sleeping on the couch!”

“Ms. Disney?” Gwen was incredulous. This dedicated educator had taught at least three generations in Sienna. Her retirement after fifty years was the opening at Sienna Elementary that created the vacancy Gwen now filled. How anyone could lift a finger to hurt one of the town’s treasures was beyond her. In fact, how anyone could think of taking advantage of an old person filled her with disgust. At times like these, she felt older than her forty years, light-years removed from the twenty-something crowd this Thomas fit into. She wasn’t much into hip-hop, still preferred a telephone call to a text message, and couldn’t understand why men wanted to walk around showing their drawers.

“Is he in jail?”

“Yeah, they arrested him,” her mother answered. “But there’s plenty more where he came from. Driving down the street with music so loud it’ll wake the dead, walking around in the middle of the day when they should be punching somebody’s time clock. A man don’t work, he’ll steal. That’s what the scriptures say.”

“Let me get on across the way before it gets dark,” Mary said once they finished eating. All the conversation about thugs and drugs and crimes being committed had her understandably squeamish.

“I’ll walk with you if you’d like,” Gwen offered.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of it,” Mary responded strongly. But once she got to the door, she added, “You can watch me though…until I get inside my door.”

Mary smiled and waved as she bolted her screen door and then closed her wooden one. Gwen joined her mother on the couch where they watched a rerun of Lorraine’s favorite sitcom, Sanford and Son. Once her mother retired for the night, Gwen washed the dinner dishes, made a cup of hot chocolate, and decided to unwind in her mother’s backyard garden. Since she could remember, there were always flowers everywhere. In spite of the heat, the blooms were flourishing: lavender, gladiola, sunflowers, and sweet pea. They offered a profusion of beauty to the backyard her father had helped landscape. She thought of him as she walked across the cobblestone pathway and over to the wooden bench resting near a bird bath she remembered picking out with her dad. In those days, it was always filled with water. Now it sat silent and neglected, with leaves, weeds, and an errant piece of paper filling the bowl. The nostalgic moment made her think of her mother, and just how hard it would be for her to leave the home she’d created with Harold Andrews.

Gwen closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the night. As had often been the case since meeting him a week ago, her mind went to the handsome stranger at the coffee shop. She’d gone back almost every day since their chance encounter a week before, and had almost convinced herself it was really because she liked Kristy’s hot chocolate. Truth be told, it was to hopefully run into him again, but that hadn’t happened. So she was left with her memories and imagination. She remembered the feel of his hard chest, and imagined it crushing her breasts as he lay on top of her. She remembered his strong arms, and imagined them enfolding her as they lay naked and satisfied. She remembered his mouth, and imagined it covering hers, tongue swirls and love bites. She remembered his eyes, and imagined drowning in their depths as he professed his undying love. He was tall and hard and beautiful. She imagined that his…well…all of him was as perfect as what she’d already seen.

When she’d asked Chantay about him, her usually know-everything-about-everybody friend drew a blank. At one point, she’d almost called Joanna, the fellow first-grade Sienna teacher. But she didn’t feel she knew her well enough to enlist her help on a personal matter.

And just what matter is that? she asked herself. Joe violated his wedding vows but you’re still a married woman, Gwen Smith. And you’ve got priorities—your mother and your job. Whoever that man was, okay whoever that fine, strapping, gorgeous chunk of oh-my-goodness is, makes no difference to you…no difference at all!

Draining the last of her chocolate, Gwen tried to chase away the erotic thoughts by turning to the bird bath and methodically cleaning out the debris. Soon memories of her and her dad visiting on this very bench replaced thoughts of him. Just when she felt the tension leaving her shoulders, a sound interrupted her peace. She started and looked around her. It had gotten dark, and while there were back porch lights on at various houses, it was hard to see past ten or so feet. After looking around for a moment, she went back to cleaning the bird bath. And then another sound, something scraping or being dragged, a creaking of wood.

Gwen strained to see into the darkness. This was Sienna, the small podunk town that was almost as clean cut and drama free as Mayberry. At least it used to be, when she was growing up. But hadn’t Miss Mary said things had changed since then? Gwen’s heart began to beat a little faster as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps. How could that be? The yards were all covered with grass and inlaid with either cobblestone or large rocks to make paths. This was the creaking of footsteps across wood. It didn’t make sense. Gwen tried to calm herself down. “You’re being silly,” she said aloud.

And then she saw him. An unmistakable figure crawling on the roof of her neighbor’s house. Miss Mary! Just as she was about to yell out, the figure disappeared into a window sitting on the roof’s backside. Her attic! He’s gone inside her attic!

Gwen sprinted inside her house and dialed 9–1-1.