Chapter 13 #2
Bill was sitting on the porch in a blue Adirondack chair with an iced tea. His stare stretched a thousand miles past the nearest ocotillo. Lonely shadows lurked in the creases of his face. They were the same lines I saw when I looked in the mirror.
When he noticed us, he offered a weary smile. “Uh oh, here comes trouble.”
Nina pulled free of my hand and climbed into the chair next to him, leaning back to copy him, but the sun hit her face straight on. Bill stretched to his left to shade a hand over her eyes.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded with a toothy grin. He was such a natural.
“Do you have grandkids?” I asked him.
“N-ope.” Disappointment. Regret.
His single word weighed heavier than its Merriam-Webster meaning, and it compelled me to feed him.
A silly notion, considering I had so much to do.
Sillier still, because cooking in the RV in this heat defied all common sense.
But when people grieved, you brought them casseroles.
When your friend sobbed over a breakup, you arrived with ice cream and a bottle of tequila. This man needed tamales.
“I was thinking …” Would he resist if I asked him outright? Bill waited for me to finish, his sweating iced tea halfway to his mouth. Melting ice shifted with little clinks. “I’d like to make you dinner.”
His stubby eyebrows shot up. “Well, I’ve gotta say, it’s been a long time since a woman told me that.
” Sorrow faded, and the crow’s feet returned to his eyes.
“I should treat you to dinner. Figure I owe you for whipping Eli into shape over that darn box.” He squinted up at me. “What are you offering?”
“Tamales. Unless you want something else?”
He took a sip of his iced tea. “I’m easy. I’ll eat anything.”
“Except for Marley’s apple muffins,” I pointed out.
“Except for that.”
Poor Marley. She’d tried.
“Or kale,” he added in a gruff voice. “And that fake meat stuff. If it ain’t chicken, don’t call it chicken.”
I threw a dramatic hand to my chest. “I would never.”
“Good.”
I missed this–lazy afternoon banter. Easy company.
I missed sharing home-cooked meals and corn husks coated in tamale sauce, piled high in the center of the table like poker chips.
I wanted cold beers and laughter under a sky full of stars.
I bet the stars looked huge this far outside the city. When my phone buzzed, I whipped it out.
“Is Eli on his way back?” Bill asked.
I frowned. “What? Oh, I don’t know.” Steven. Again. I tucked it away and glanced at the long, empty driveway. Mr. Hunky Hero had been gone for almost two hours. Not that I was counting. I had hoped to finish the binders and move on to other things.
“You reckon he got lost?” Bill asked.
“In an office store? Maybe.”
An hour later, still no Eli. I sent off a few more resumes, then gave up on him, and loaded Nina into the Chevy for our apartment tour.
The unit was ready for lease, so we headed straight to the office to complete paperwork.
That meant pre-made pork tamales from the Carneceria.
A wiser choice given the circumstances, though not as good as homemade.
Eli still hadn’t returned when we pulled into Bill’s ranch.
Whatever. Packing took priority over binders.
Inside the RV, swollen rice kernels boiled with bouillon and tomato paste in my cheap Teflon pot.
I wiped the sweat off the side of my face as I haphazardly checked the liquid level.
Then I bounced to shoving things back in boxes.
Mainly Nina’s toys, which she pulled out every time I resumed my spot at the stove.
“Nina, leave them there!”
“Mama, I have to go potty.”
Oh. This is a first. “Okay.” I wiped my hands and walked her across a sea of stuffed animals to the bathroom.
It still had a sour twinge, but nothing like that first day.
Nina climbed onto the seat and sat there, legs swinging as she talked non-stop about everything from horses to the hair inside my nose.
“Are you done?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure you have to go?”
“Yes.”
Burnt rice wafted through the small space. Shoot! “Nina, I’ll be right back.”
“No!” She grabbed my arm.
“Dinner is burning.” I fought to pull free without yanking her off the toilet seat.
“Nina, let go. I’ll be right back.” With gentle force I escaped, only to trip over a box of clothes on my way to the kitchen.
The handle was hot when I moved the food off the burner, and not only did I kill the rice, but I also scorched my new pot.
“Mama!” Nina wailed.
The trailer was too hot, too messy. How did I think I’d be ready to move in the morning? With so many tasks? Make dinner, pack, clean, wow Terry with a business proposal.
“Mama! Come back!”
All I really wanted was a nap. Better yet, a shower.
But I wouldn’t get either. It was too much!
I blew through the front door and onto the deck.
Why did everything have to be so hard? I was trying to stitch our lives back together, and seams just kept splitting everywhere.
I couldn’t keep up. And somehow, I had to figure this out. On my own.
A throat cleared.
I whipped around to see Eli standing on the bottom step with two white shopping bags. “You want me to come back later?” He preemptively twisted away.
My hands curled into bionic fists. “Where have you been?”
He shot me an incredulous look. “Where have I …? Ava, do you have any idea how many kinds of colored sticky tabs the office store sells?”
“You spent four hours picking out Post-its?”
“Of course not. Why are you yelling at me?”
“I’m not yelling!”
Eli slanted a look at me.