Rita Hayworth's Shoes (21 page)
“If you want it, you can bring it to you.”
“You shouldn't just open the door like that,” Esther chided, though with a gentleness Mina had come to depend upon. The soothing calm in the chaos of her life. “You have to be careful.”
“Esther, my goodness,” Mina laughed as they stood in the doorway. “Here?” She shook her head. “I think the worst case scenario would be that creep that runs the Landscaping Committee. And I think I could probably take him.” Mina then made a pathetic attempt at a laugh, as she and Esther both looked to the planting beds outside her front doorâor rather, what had been planting beds.
“Those bastards,” Esther said, with a succession of tsks. “I mean, I knew they would do this. But those bastards, all the same.”
“You mean that they would do this? To a neighbor?”
“That Charlie Witmore is a pain in the ass and everyone knows it. But the head of a home owner's association holds a lot of power,” she said. “Besides, widowers can be assholes in general. Trust me. I've known plenty of them.”
“If you want it, it can be yours.”
Starting off the seemingly never-ending list of what had been making this the proverbial day from hell was the discovery this morning that the flowers in Mina's planting beds surrounding her front porch had all been brutally murdered. The night before, the entire landscaping committee had come and, with their bare hands, unearthed all of Mina's flowers. As it turned out, peonies, in any shade, were expressly prohibited, as stated in the bylaws of the community. Peonies had been the favorite flower of Charlie Witmore's now-deceased wife. At her funeral, there had been an ocean of purple and orange and magenta peony blooms. And now any time anyone at Easton Estates saw peonies of any kind, all they could see in their minds-eyes was Kitty Witmore, made up like a pasty showgirl in her pink-satin lined coffin.
Shame rose in her face and she looked away. “It was insensitive of me,” she said. “I should have gone with Marigolds. No one ever uses Marigolds at a funeral.”
“No one uses peonies either,” said Esther, and Mina half-nodded in agreement. Esther gently placed a hand on Mina's elbow. “You don't think it was insensitive of them to come here in the middle of the night and massacre your garden?”
“What you welcome will be YOURS!”
“You have company?” Esther asked, a perplexed look on her face.
Mina didn't answer either question.
Esther craned her neck to look inside the house to find the source of the curious voice as she spoke. “I can't tell you what I had done had they messed with my yard,” she shook her head and gave Mina a soft, powdery kiss on the cheek. “Honey, you're going to have to stop letting people push you around like this,” she said, and she handed Mina the plate.
“If you want it, it will come to you.”
“What is that? Is someone here?” asked Esther, now gently pushing her way inside. “Who's that man talking? And where's the little one? Isn't it Tuesday?”
In the time that had elapsed since Mina chose door over daughter, Emma had gone silent. Almost too silent. Now Mina panicked.
“Here,” she tossed the plate back to Esther and ran to the playroom. “Emma? Mama's coming! Emma! Are you okay?”
“If you want it, make it yours! Goodnight!”
“Goodnight?” said Esther, befuddled “But it's eleven thirty in the morning.”
Mina raced to the playroom and found Emma crunched up in a little ball, holding her knees, rocking and scowling. When she saw her mother had finally come for her, she regarded the woman with a sour grin, and went on sulking. “I'm sorry baby,” Mina said, and bent down in front of the gate. “You know mama loves you?”
Without warning, Emma's scowl switched to a smile, the sweetest and brightest smile Mina had ever seen the little girl wear. Instantly, Mina's heart filled with joy; with an intense and incredible sense of love just seeing her daughter like that, smiling at her so warmly, so beautifully. She wanted to scoop up the child, cradle her in her arms and plant kisses all over her little painted body. She wanted to snuggle with her so much, it made her heart hurt. She took a breath and reached out her arms.
“Esda!” cried Emma, and she ran to the section of baby gate that “Esda” now occupied. Jilted by the toddler.
“My goodness, baby, what have you gotten into now?” asked Esther, bemused, looking at Mina, not Emma.
“I paint!” a gleeful Emma boasted, and waved around the playroom to show Esther the extent of her masterpiece.
Esther looked at Mina, and Mina smirked, mimicked her daughter's hand movement, and showed to Esther the “masterpiece” as spread throughout the house.
“Oh dear,” said Esther, another tsk in her voice. “Why didn't you drop this child in the bathtub right away? Is it because of that man in the house?” she asked, craning her neck into the next room. “Who's that man in the house?”
“Esther, what are you talking about? No one's here except Emma and me.” Then Mina realized what Esther was talking about and she chuckled. “Oh that. That's just some tape I found. I have no idea what it is. Must be Jack's,” she lied.
“Huh,” Esther said, but yet with a tinge of suspicion. She shrugged her shoulders and seemed to let it go. “Mina, what happened here?”
“Kind of a funny story,” said Mina, blowing a strand of paint-encrusted fallen bangs out of her eyes, and lifted Emma into her arms. When Emma nuzzled her small, warm head into the crook of Mina's neck, and she breathed in the fresh sweetness of the small one underneath the paint fumes, she knew in her heart that the look of love that Emma had shown had indeed been for her.
As soon as Esther learned the situation with the water heater, she immediately offered to help outâfirst by offering for Mina and Emma to take a shower at her house, and then by giving Mina the name and number of a friend who could give her a good deal.
“Except I can't pay anything until the middle of the month,” said Mina. “And even thenâ“
“Don't give it another thought, dear. Bob will help you out, no questions asked. Just pay him what you can whenever you can.”
“I don't know how to thank you, Esther,” Mina said. “For this. For everything you do for us.”
“Not to worry, dear. I was your age once. I know it well. Small children, limited funds. Budget stretched to the hilt. I understand. I'm glad to help.”
Mina didn't know what she'd do without Esther.
“Why don't you two walk through the backyard. Lord only knows what kind of fine or punishment that busybody Witmore's going to dream up over the two of you looking the way you do,” she said, folding her arms in front of her. “The back door's unlocked. Why don't you two grab some fresh clothes and walk on ahead. I could use your help getting down my old bundt pan from the top left shelf in the kitchen, if you could go on and do that for me. Besides, my legs aren't as fast as they used to be,” she laughed. “You could duck in to the shower and be out again by the time I make it over there.”
“Sure, Esther,” said Mina, warmly. “Downstairs shower then?” Mina and Esther had the exact same home configuration; she had been in Esther's house thousands of times but even if she'd never been inside before, she'd know exactly where the downstairs shower was.
“Of course, dear,” said Esther.
Mina ran upstairs and grabbed a change of clothes, first for Emma and then for herself. In her bedroom she noticed Jack's laundry still folded on his side of the bed from the day before. He hadn't made it home last nightâhad taken the redeye and headed right into the office. A stab of longing pierced her heart as she wondered if he'd be home early enough tonight for them to see one another. Have a conversation even. She never knew these days. Jack working all the time, one day dissolving into the next. She headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
“I'm back,” said Mina and she scooped up Emma into her arms.
“I'll be right behind you,” said Esther. “I'll grab the cookies.”
Mina slid open the glass French doors that led to their backyard and cut across the yard to Esther's. With every step, Emma writhed and squirmed to break free.
“I want to walk!” screamed Emma. “I walk!” After taking a couple of considerably painful punches to the face, Mina gave up and set Emma down.
Just as Emma's feet touched the ground, both Emma and Mina were knocked over by a powerful force, which Mina could only identify as water once they hit the ground. She swung her head around to find Esther, wielding a garden hose like some crazed naturist who'd just captured a raging python by the midsection on some wild animal program. The spray must have been on full-force and Mina wondered for a moment how the hell Esther could be wielding such force, and, before that, why Esther was trying to drown them with a hose.
Esther laughed out loud. “You didn't think I was going to let the two of you into my house looking like that!” she said. “I mean, your decorating style is okay, you know, for you,” she choked as she chortled. “I myself prefer more muted tones.”
Mina opened her mouth to speak and got pelted in the mouth with a hard stream of water. She looked at Emma who she imagined must be terrified at what was going on and Emma looked back at her. Then Emma began to laugh maniacally, and she splashed her tiny hands in the water and now mud puddles that formed in the grass. Mina watched Emma, whose face and hair and clothes and hands were streaked in rinsed paint and brown mud and random loose blades of grass. Emma was now watching Esther, who was continuing to spray away at them with mad delight. “Again!” screamed Emma. “Again!”
As the sun rose in the sky signaling the end of the morning, and Emma and Esther screamed and laughed with the hose spraying away, Mina gave in to the moment and joined in the fun, splashing and laughing spinning around in the grass with Emma as Esther rinsed them clean. And she was feeling, at least for the moment, that maybe this wasn't the worst day ever after all.
Francine LaSala has authored and collaborated on numerous works of nonfiction (biography, cooking, lifestyle, sex, humor, and more) and edited scores of bestselling fiction through her company, Francine LaSala Productions. The author of
Rita Hayworth's Shoes
and
The Girl, The Gold Tooth & Everything
, she lives with her husband and two daughters in New York. Visit her online at
www.francinelasala.com
or
@francinelasala
.
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