Chapter 40 Making Amends #4
“EEEEEeeeew!” Debbie had howled. “I wasn’t implying that at all! Hadn’t even thought about that! Now I’ve got this mental image of my ex-husband and my sort-of-adopted son in bed together!”
Matt had started giggling again. “We used condoms, mommy. We were safe.”
“EEEEEeeew! Stop!”
“And Nicholas wasn’t cheating on Bradley,” Matt had said, laughing, “because Bradley was in bed with us, too!”
“It’s always SEX, SEX, SEX with you gays!
” Debbie had said, laughing so hard she was holding her sides.
“SEX, SEX, SEX! I was married once, you know. I’ve had sex, and, frankly, it’s highly overrated.
Given a choice between sex with Richard Gere or a banana split, I’d choose the banana split every time. ”
Matt had grinned. “You might want to give Richard Gere a shot. You never know. He might ring your bell.”
“Hot fudge rings my bell, too, and I don’t have to shower afterward!”
That had ended the sex talk.
“Let’s get to work!” Debbie said.
Matt worked. Debbie supervised.
When it came time for the fifth load, Debbie excused herself.
Then, when Matt was unloading that last batch, Debbie rounded the corner of the house, carrying a flat of annuals. She had changed into overalls and was wearing a floppy hat.
“Once you finish stacking those bricks, you can help me over here,” she said, nodding towards the garden that stretched across the front of her house. “There are two more flats, which shouldn’t take us long. It’ll give you time to tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”
So, there they were, the two of them, squatting side-by-side in the garden, wielding hand trowels, planting a hodge-podge of marigolds, lavender, and salvia, when Matt noticed a weedy looking thing with sand-papery leaves and small yellow and orange flowers.
“What’s this one?” he asked.
“Lantana. Plant it towards the back. It gets tall. Butterflies love it.”
Matt raised the lantana to his nose, didn’t smell anything.
“Pluck off one of the leaves and crush it in your fingers. Then take a whiff. And I’ll warn you, it isn’t sickly sweet like roses or hyacinths.”
Matt crushed a leaf, releasing its oils. His fingers smelled citrusy and herbal.
It hit him then, smacked him into a goofy smile—Celeste’s advice about the three friendships he needed to heal. “Smoke the cigar. Sniff the flowers. Eat the pie.” Two down. One to go.
He was puzzling over who was the third friend—the one with the pie—when he heard a familiar chug-ka-chugging of an engine that needed its timing adjusted. He knew, without looking, that its driver was a certain red neck whose attitude needed adjusting.
Damn Celeste and her meddling!
“TONY!” Debbie greeted Idabel after he’d parked his pickup. “Thank you for coming!”
“Hi Mom Debbie!”
Matt and Idabel eyed each other nervously, mumbled hello.
“What’s going on?” Idabel asked Debbie. “You said you needed help moving something heavy?”
“I do, honey!” Debbie said. “See that stack of bricks?”
Idabel nodded.
“I was planning to build a garden path out front here, but I’ve changed my mind. I want it in my backyard. Would you move them bricks? You can use that wheelbarrow.”
Idabel gestured towards Matt. “Why can’t he move them? No offense.”
“None taken,” Matt said, brushing dirt from the knees of his jeans.
“Heads up, Idabel: we’re being played by Mom Debbie.
I’m not sure what her angle is, but she’s playing us.
You see, I just moved the whole pile from the backyard.
All six hundred pounds. Mom Debbie fed me the same story about changing her mind. ”
“Being played?” Idabel looked surprised.
Matt nodded. “The good news is there’ll be pie at the end.”
It was Debbie’s turn to be surprised. “How do you know about the pie? Did you peek in my icebox?”
“My friend Celeste did—sort of.” Matt laughed. “Technically I think some moon goddess did the peeking and then whispered it in Celeste’s ear. The point is that Celeste told me there’d be pie—and a sort of friend, or former friend, I’d be eating it with. I’m guessing that’s you, Idabel.”
“Are you drunk?” Idabel asked.
“He was,” Debbie said. “Hungover.”
Idabel’s face went red with anger. “You haven’t learned a damn thing, have you, Mustang? First, you disrespected the team! Now you’ve no sooner become president of SGA, and you’re disrespecting the whole student body!”
“STOP!” Debbie stepped between them, held up her hands. “Back to the bricks! They’re not gonna move themselves, boys!”
She removed her floppy hat, ran her fingers through her hair to re-inflate it. “I’ve got an errand or two to run, and you boys have some work to do. When you’re finished, there’s a crock pot of stew in the kitchen—and yes coconut crème pie in the icebox. Help yourselves.”
She fixed them both with a glare. “I suggest you patch things up, or we’ll keep doing this dance with the bricks and the wheelbarrow. My neighbors have certainly seen stranger things than that around here.”
Matt snickered.
“We’re family,” Debbie said. “Our only job is to love each other and encourage each other, trusting that the other guy is doing the best he can. Heck, I thought you’d have figured that out already, watching me lead cheers at every one of your dang games!”