Hot Tea (14 page)

“Can’t do it.  I need lots of hair to equal out the body.”

“Is that why Dolly Parton has big hair?”

She smiled, “Big hair, big life.”

“I can’t believe Mom thinks me selling eulogies to people is a good idea.  Maybe it’s reverse psychology.”

“I doubt it.  You’ve always been just backwards enough that reverse psychology doesn’t work.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Cara, you know I’m telling you the truth.”

“Now I’m not sure I want to do it.”

“Are you looking for a new career, an adventure, or are you just doing your teenaged rebellion thing a few years late?”

“I’m just in a weird place right now, and as my loving sister, you’re going to support me through this minor crisis.”

“I hate to be crass, but I think your problem is pretty basic Cara.  When was the last time someone saw you in one of those overpriced Hollywood-wanna-be, take-me-now fade-to-black, nightgowns?”

“Your theory on my delicate condition is that I need a man?”

“No Cara, my theory is that your condition is far from delicate.  You need to get laid!”

“I’m telling Mom you said that.”

“No you won’t.  You know I’m right.  Cara, the sexual side of life is what makes the other side of life worth putting up with.  You know it’s the truth.  No woman needs a man.  Not to complete her.  Not to provide for her.  Not to define her.  But every woman needs to be loved, and cherished, and appreciated.”

She was building a head of steam as she continued, “Women like you, my God Cara, you should have been born a few generations ago.  You would love to stay home and have babies and meet Mr. Right at the door with his pipe and slippers, in one of those gowns you love so much.  You are the anomaly that made the woman’s movement valid.  You are what defines women having a choice.” 

She continued without even taking a breath, “Women can go out and be normal, or we can be like you.  It’s the true test.  Although it’s never going to happen, you are the poster child for the feminist movement.  You are their biggest nightmare, and their proof of success.”

I didn’t want to think about the fact that my sister had just defined my life and written a prescription for my future happiness and well-being in under two minutes.  She may not have the gift of gab, but she certainly has interesting and uncomfortably accurate insights.

I took a deep breath and said, “You need to leave and I need to get busy figuring out how I’m going to make a living at this.  I appreciate the support.  I appreciate the fact that you didn’t make a joke out of it when you told Mom.  I appreciate the pep talk.  Now, I would appreciate some peace and quite.  Something that has been seriously lacking around here of late.”

“So that means AJ isn’t coming home today?”

 “I don’t know what AJ’s plans are, but I’m 99% sure he’s in town and will be home this evening.  I can call you when he gets here.  You can happen to stop by.”

I am such a good sister, the least she could do is confirm that it is me that is the important person to visit here.

She didn’t even pretend that her interest was familial.

She chirped, “Good.”

“You’re going to need a cover story.  Bring food.”  If I couldn’t get her to be nice to me, at least I could make her run errands and feed me.

“Cara, you just bought groceries.”

“I know, but I’ve now lost the will to cook.”

“Damn, this must be serious.”

I tried for humor, but it fell flat, “Nothing a little Prozac can’t fix.” 

Out the door she went.  I spent the afternoon preparing for my future as the queen of eulogies, checking in with Mom to see how life was treating her.  I did my laundry, including sheets, and finished up giving the kitchen and bathroom a good scrub.

She answered on the first ring.  I whispered, “AJ just walked in the door.  He’s in the shower.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.  If he tries to leave, throw yourself at his feet.  Pretend you’re having a seizure or something.  Don’t let him escape.”

“No problem.  How are you going to be here in ten minutes if you’re going to bring food?”

“Crap.  Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can.  I’m not playing Cara; I’ve been spiffing myself up since I got home.  Don’t let him out that door.”

“Guaranteed.”

I spent a few minutes pulling myself together.  I brushed my hair out and did a quick braid.  I even changed my clothes.

I’d just sat down at the computer when AJ walked in the room.  He looked good.  He smelled better.  His hair was still wet.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt.  Maybe we need some house rules or something.  Every time I see him, he looks better, and is wearing less clothing.

 Not an entirely bad thing. 

He’s like most guys, and seems really comfortable with his own body.

Of course, if I had his body… Lord, if I had his body.  Not a proper thought about your future brother-in-law.  Erase.

He smiled, “Hi.”

“Hi.  Didn’t know you were going to be home tonight.”

He looked concerned, “Is that a problem?  Do you want me to start leaving a copy of my schedule with you?  Let you know in advance when I’ll be home?”

I smiled, “No, that’s a hassle and it isn’t fair.  This is your home now.  You should be able to come and go as you please.  I was just making conversation.”

“I appreciate that, but I’d hate to walk in on you and your boyfriend.”

I laughed.  “That would be difficult.  All my men are in my dreams.”

“All?  Sounds kinky.  Not at all what I expected based on everything that Suzi told me.”  He gave me one of his smiles. 

I didn’t swoon.  I thought about it, but I didn’t.

I tried to match his smile, it felt, I’m not sure how to describe it, other than it felt constipated.  That’s my problem!  I’m constipated.  Not in the physical way, yuck, but emotionally.  Things just aren’t progressing.  Everything is getting backed up.  I need the emotional equivalent of Colon Blow, the cereal my brother Liam dreamed up in 7
^th
or 8
^th
grade.  Three bites and you’re good to go.  Literally.  We should pay more attention to prepubescent boys.  They have moments of brilliance.

I was suddenly aware that AJ was standing over me, probably wondering what planet I’m really from; or maybe he figured I really am kinky and I had some less then wholesome thoughts going through my wee little head, which was actually closer to the truth, even if I’d been having those thoughts earlier in the day, and about him, which is just wrong, you aren’t supposed to be having thoughts like that about your brother-in-law to be.

I continued as if there had been no hesitation on my part.

“Oh?  What did Suzi tell you about me?” 
That I can’t get a date to save my soul, I’ve gone into a personal funk, and I’m moody these days
?

 I put those thoughts away and continued, “Did she tell you I’m a bit OCD when it comes to housekeeping?  Spill.  I need to know it all.”  I gifted him with my best smile, and this time, it actually came out like a real smile.  Wonder what that’s all about. 

He sat down a little too close.  “Suzi said that you are, quite possibly, the nicest person she’s ever met.  She said you are beautiful inside and out.  She said you have a unique family.  That your mother thinks that Suzi is a slut.”  He actually blushed a little, but continued on, “She said you are generous to a fault, but that when people take advantage of that, which they are prone to do, it hurts you deeply.  She also said you’re a killer country cook, can serve a dinner for 60 without breaking a sweat, and that if I eat here often, I’m going to gain 10 pounds in the first month.  Basically she said that you are everything she wants to be when she grows up.”

I was touched.  “So, basically, what you’re saying is that your sister lies.”

“From where I’m standing, Suzi’s only fib may have been understatement.”

I swallowed hard.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say my brother-in-law to be was flirting with me.  That is just so wrong on so many levels.  I didn’t know what to do or say.  When just enough time had passed to make me completely uncomfortable, the phone rang.  Thank you, God. 

I fell all over myself getting to the phone.  “Hello?”

“Did you talk to your brother yet?”

“Mom?  Um, no, I haven’t had the chance.  I was going to call him tonight.  Is everything ok?”

“No, everything is not ok.  No reason for you to call.  He was over here just now with his fiancé.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Liam has decided to marry this girl.”

“Are we happy about this?”

I was concerned my mother’s chilly tone would freeze my hand right to the receiver.  “Of course it’s a good thing, he is thrilled and if he is happy then we are all happy, isn’t that the right thing to say, Cara?”

“It might be the politically correct thing to say, but politically correct is rarely right.  What’s going on Mom?”

“I’m a little concerned that they’ve known each other all of a minute and a half.  I’m concerned that they are doing something stupid and a child will be hurt.  I am concerned because your brother is not the most responsible person in the world, and he is more likely to be playing house than being a husband.  But it is not my place to say anything.  That is what you were supposed to do, but it seems a little late for that now, doesn’t it Cara?”

I took a step back, “Have they set a date?”

Mom kept using my name.  She kept getting it right.  When you come from a large family, where most of the time your name is mixed in a jumble with several others and it takes more than one attempt every time, having your name used correctly is very disconcerting.

“Oh, that might be the best part.  They’re going to get married on your father’s and my anniversary.  Isn’t that nice?”  The sarcasm in my mother’s tone was very unattractive.  I hoped she hadn’t let any of that out in front of the happy couple.  She continued, “They said that since it brought us such great luck, they’re going to use the date too.”