Who Loves Her? (18 page)

I laughed and coughed as my coffee sho
t through my nose.  “Haha Mom, if the preacher comes by for a one hour special, I am sure he will be worried about lots of other things besides Bob’s boxer shorts!” I shook my head, giggling at the image of my preacher.

“
Well, little smart alec, what if there is a fire and you have to run out into the street?”

“You always told me to have on clean underwear in case of a fire
.  These are clean…well kind of.  Bob could really fart when he wanted to.  Some of these look like he hit a deer.”

“Susan
!  Will you please take this seriously!”

“Don’t worry, Mom
.  I have one of my thongs on under these, so if I get pantsed again by the boys in seventh grade gym, all the important parts are covered.”

“Well, I don’t know about your ‘important’ parts, but I do know there is a lot to be said for
dignitified behavior, and you running around in an old pair of Bob’s underwear is simply not dignified!”

I looked at her and winked, “Hey Mom, have you seen the price of good underwear lat
ely? I will have to float a loan if I ever outgrow Bob’s boxers.” 

“Honestly
.”  She shook her head and surrendered.  She was usually trying to hand me food when I did that to her.  Don’t know why I had to give her such shit all the time.  The truth is that Bob’s boxers are the single source of comfort in my life.  It may be a sad state of affairs or simply a reflection on my simplistic nature to state such a thing; however, after a bad day, my first choice is Bob’s boxers, and the second choice is a pain pill.  The pain pills were definitely disappearing more quickly now after the accident, but the boxer shorts were always first choice.

Mr
. Vanilla came in the office and my reverie was lost.  “Shit!” I thought. “Now, I have to go out there in my boxers.” I picked up my step as a thought flashed through my mind.

“
I’m not up to the desk yet.  Maybe he won’t notice.”

“Oh God, he noticed
.”  He did that little glance thing guys do.

Here’s the key to Room Fourteen
.  We sure enjoyed it.”  I looked him in the eye to see if there was any hidden reference to my boxers.

I smiled dutifully when I saw nothing but love for Mrs
. Vanilla.

“Goodbye, I ho
pe we see you guys again soon.”  With that, the Vanillas were gone.

I leaned onto the counter and watched as they disappeared down the road
.  For a guy with that weird Iranian beard like Omar, he didn’t strike me as that weird.  Well he did wear oversize glasses with bright gold rims, but there were worse fashion choices for an old fart on a motorcycle.  Got to admire his lady.  Her bike was as big as his.

Susan shook her head and thumped a pencil eraser softly on the counter
.  I wonder what makes some people find love and others do not.  You know I never looked for love, and it just reach out and grabbed me…literally!  Poor Anna on the other hand begged and prayed for love, but it was never to be found.  Bob and I had been so deeply in love and happy, but for a very short time.  Then, there were these lucky SOB’s like Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla who seemed to have figured it all out and would have eternity together as one.  Strangely, this was one of the few times I could think of Bob and I, and not feel that empty place inside of me.  Instead I felt blessed somehow.  Blessed and superior to the screwed up people of the world, I felt like I was joining forces with the Vanillas of the world.

“You know, next time I see a Mr
. and Mrs. Strawberry, I am going to tell them!” I spoke outloud as I prepared for the day.

I smiled as I thought of marching up to the Strawberries and introducing myself before giving them a good piece of my mind and
the vanilla philosophy.

“You listen here
, Mr. and Mrs. Strawberry, or Ms. Strawberry-in-Training, or Ms. Flavor-of-the-Month, or whoever you are!  Love is a gift!  Love is a gift that rarely finds two people.  If you are lucky enough to have been smiled at by the love gurus of fate, then you should respect it.  You should respect your mate and the gifts you have been given by taking every moment of every day to show gratitude for your blessings of love, and to show affection to the man or woman who loves you.  Love is rare and it’s not very often people are blessed by it.  If you are blessed in finding love, then as each year passes, you should feel more love and deeper gratitude because you have been given a love that lasts.  Fate has not reached out and ripped it from your clenched fist!  Instead, Mr. and Mrs. Strawberry, you look around with each growing year and blame each other.  You find dissatisfaction and you instantly blame it on your spouse.  Then because you feel bad inside you decide a new wife, a newer improved model, will make you happy.  Then a third wife for your satisfaction.  The result is that you go through life dissatisfied, angry, and broke because you have one unhappy wife and three healthy alimony checks and child support.  There will never be satisfaction because you have deserted too many people who now hate you.  I’m going to tell that next time I talk to a Mr. and Mrs. Strawberry.  I’m going to say straight to his face: “You go back to your woman, ya’ horny bastard.”  Of course, with my luck, I’ll tell him and then his new wife will be in tears.  Then I’ll find out that his first wife died of cancer or something and feel like a nosy jackass again.  Might as well start on a new story…where to begin.

“Skylark Motel.  Best skyline in the America’s best little town.  Can I help you?”

“Susan…
” The wind was in the background again.

“Listen, prick, this just isn’t funny
…hell it wasn’t funny the first time.”

The wind
was on the other line, “Susan….”  The voice was lost somehow…like they weren’t sure they dialed the right number.  Or maybe it was one of Jeremy’s old girlfriends lost out on I-94.  I hung up.  Jeremy ran the truckstop adult book store out around the turnpike, and to say he had “girlfriends” was the polite way to say it.  Uncle Lars always told me to just collect their money when they came in for the hour and not to get involved.  If they looked like they were doing something with drugs or what-not, just figure out how not to rent them a room.  That was easier said than done, since people think seventy-nine ninety-five rents the time to use the verb and noun
blow
in more ways than the English language was ever intended to endure.

I’m pretty sure I’m the reason Uncle Lars had to put up the sign that says, “WE DON’T RENT ROOMS TO MINORS
.”  I had a pretty good idea when I needed to let the people know they just needed to push down the road because we were going to have to shut down the room for an entire remodel and paint job when they were done.  Not a perfect system.  It’s amazing how well-dressed a junkie can be.  If I can see that it’s just a “skank-and-ride” show, then I set them up in Room Eighteen or Twenty.  Uncle Lars said if they’re horny enough, they don’t care, and that way we can just hit those rooms with a couple coats of paint every six months or so.

We call
Room Nineteen and Twenty-One the smoking rooms.  Don’t know what they did before people used credit cards at motels.  Uncle Lars said he only had to push the point once because some asshole put the TV through the wall while he was fighting with the woman, and it meant they had to re-sheet the wall to both rooms and re-wire the phone systems.  When the asshole saw the charge on his card, and wasn’t happy with the answer about the extra charges, he came charging up here from Sioux City to give Uncle Lars a piece of his mind.

Uncle Lars
just about bumps the lamp above my head when he stands up, and he’s got a sawed off shot-gun for special occasions that he keeps tucked in this bottom draw.

He loves to tell the story and I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when that asshole came
honking, screeching, and screaming.  Uncle just sat up tall and laid the shot-gun over his lap.  With the safety on, he kind of waved it around and quietly let him know that he was going to give the guy to the count of ten and then take out his front tire. 

The guy was so hot, he was sure Uncle was bluffing
.  Uncle waltzed around the corner of the desk, backing the guy up with his belly.  He gave the asshole a warning shot in the air.

Uncle Lars always has tears of laughter as soon as he gets to the punch line
.  “Kid damn near wet himself trying to get to his car!”

I w
ondered lazily to myself how I might look with a shotgun pointing into the air.  With Bob’s boxers on, I would probably just look like a crazy old loon, and I decided against the gun idea before I ever really got going.

There was a church van from some religious college here with two rooms
.  That’s always an interesting thing to watch.  All these religious people trying to do one of two things.  Either they are trying to pretend they don’t have any hormones and separate the guys and girls, or they are trying to see how dark it has to get before they can sneak into each other’s rooms.  Most of the time the chaperone is this old geezer who falls asleep by nine-thirty like the good Lord told him to…well that, and the one skinny kid who can’t get a date.  Last night it took until about nine fifteen before I started to hear doors quietly open and shut and open and shut.

I did get irritate
d when the knocking woke me at two a.m.  To say I was surprised to see the curly-haired boy with the church group would be an understatement.  I had seen him in the parking lot, walking up to the little blond giving her a pat on her behind when no one was looking.  Apparently the open and close doors were done after leaving their key on the bedside table.  The boy was all of fifteen and not one day later.  He sputtered and coughed, alternating between apologies and begging.  Of course, my first words were to inquire on the safety of his friend.

“Yeah I know who you are, but are you okay?
Where is your girlfriend?” I asked as my eyes searched the dark corners.

“
Uhm ma’am? Girlfriend? I don’t…uhm…I’m afraid I don’t….”

“Listen, don’t stand t
here at two a.m. and tell me you went out for a midnight stroll alone!  I have hormones,-I know how it works.”

The handsome boy hung his head in shame before he admitted to my suggestions.

“Uhm, yes ma’am.  She is..well…hey Melli, come here.  She wants to make sure you are okay.”  And with that, little miss Melli came walking up from behind the van.  I looked around for any other set of eyes, but just past Melli stood only one other car.  The parking lot was empty, and the laundermat was locked.

“Look, this was a dumb thing for you guys to do
.  On top of getting into trouble with your church, you really have no idea how many teenagers have been murdered out here in these woods!  Do you really think we get all the nice, upstanding citizens here? Hell no!  Holiday Inn over there gets folks like your parents.  My little motel gets escaped criminals and con-artists, so you two love birds are damned lucky to be alive!”

I stifled a grin as I looked into the surprised
, fearful eyes of the girl.

“I am going to let you go back to your rooms this time, but if I see you out again, I will be forced to call the sheriff’s office just in case you get killed
, then I won’t get the blame.  Do I make myself clear?”

The boy jumped and assured me he would take her straight to his room before locking himself safe and sound into the boys
’ room.  “We won’t do it again.  EVER.  We promise!”

I had tears rolling down my cheeks with laughter as I crawled back into my bed
.  It was so great to see young love, but it was even greater to take advantage of a teenager’s innocence and send them back to mommy with tales of axe murderers rattling their little brains.  Although I enjoyed the evil way I played with the teens, I soon noticed the size of the bed.  It was so big and empty, but tonight it seemed even emptier.  As usual, the laughter faded to sadness, the joy turned into tears.  How could I manage this insanity!

“Skylark M
otel.  Best skyline in the America’s best little town.  Can I help you?”

“Yes, Uncle
.  Seven rooms last night, if you don’t count RoomTwo.  Well, I thought I would take a walk a little after two o’clock when I finish up with the rooms, if you want to come cover the counter and count it up.  Yes, Uncle.  In the safe.  No….no crazies or skank-and-rides for an hour.  Sounds good.”  He’s a gem.  A tightwad gem that probably has a couple diamonds shoved up his butt for safekeeping, but he’s a gem.

“Skylark M
otel.  Best skyline in the America’s best little town.  Can I help you?”

The wind on the other line again
.  I took a stab.

“Look, if you hang around that truck stop on the turn pike
, and someone said that there’s a Susan here, then you’re mistaken.  You must have a wrong…”

“It’s Anna…..don’t hang up
.”  There were tears in the wind.  I listened, with my heart starting to race.

“How do I…Susan
?...How do I…”  I looked all around me, with my hands beginning to sweat.  My head was spinning and exploding with memories of the crash and the funeral.

“You quit calling me
, you horrible son of a bitch.”  I slammed the phone down.  I picked up the phone and dialed Mom.

“Hello?”

“Do you have someone in your house with you?”

“Susan, now that’s just mean…”

“No, Mom I didn’t mean it that way…I’m sorry, Mom.  I know it’s lonely.  I’m working on it.  It’s just that….”

“It’s just what dear?
”  Mom could hear the panic in my voice.

“Someone keeps calling from your number, here.”

“That’s impossible, honey.  Are you taking those medications the doctor gives you for nerves?”

“It’s called depression, Mom
, and yes, I take them.  Are you taking yours?”

“You know that
I don’t have nerves like you, dear.  The doctors recommended a physic for me once every couple of days.  That and big doses of prayer, warm milk, and tea.”

“Mom
!  Don’t you get it!  Someone is playing a horrible joke, and it’s freaking me out!”

“Now, h
oney, it’s just like when you didn’t get the part in the school play back when you were little.  You went out in the backyard and acted it all out on your own.  We worried about you for weeks.  The doctor said it was nothing.  Have you trid a physic?  They are very cleansing to the mind and body.  I’m starting to feel more and more peace every day.”

“Mom
!  An enema a day doesn’t keep the crazy away!”

“Now
you’re yelling, dear.  I don’t like to talk to you when you yell.  It upsets my nerves.  I’ll bring you by another casserole.  Do you want the corn chips on the Mexican medley or the Fritos?  The IGA has the Fritos on sale until Tuesday, but if you really like the corn chips, then I can make a trip down to the Cash and Carry.  Liz is on her way there and she said she would pick me up.”

My heart was racing and my eyes were closed shut with tears running down my face.

“Why don’t you take the trip with Liz, Mom.”  I replied, trying to steady my voice.  “The corn chips would be great.”

Actually all the sitting, crying
, and casseroles were making my ass wide enough to need a U-Haul truck if I ever moved back into the house Bob and I bought.  I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands.  I grabbed my little cleaning bucket from the storage closet with my keys and rubber gloves.  Never want to clean one of these bad boys without the rubber gloves.  Who knows what kind of diseases we’re sharing all over America’s best little town.

Mr
. and Mr. Vanilla were those type of travelers that never get away from home much, so their habits all stay in place.  They practically make the bed for you.  It was a sweet gesture, even though I had to strip the sheets.  Well, officially, I’m supposed to strip the sheets.  Uncle Lars told me to look and check for fluids, bugs or beer stains.  If I can’t find two out of three, then see if I could stretch it by just tossing on another pillow case or two so their heads would smell all of the Downy softness.

It always felt too gross to me, so I just stripped the bed
.  I mean Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla were clean.  They even put all of their garbage in the garbage can.  There would be another Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla down the road, and so I just always tried to picture their disappointment if they had to come here to dirty sheets.  He probably wouldn’t notice, but she certainly would.

Bob never noticed
.  It was actually our first big fight after we got married.  I have to admit, I thought that I had to act like my crazy clean mother, so for the first few months we were together I was a house-cleaning maniac.  He would come home from work and I’d freak out if there was a dirty boot print on the kitchen floor or a glass not on a coaster.  I started most days taking inventory of my collection of cleaning products.  Then I would make a list of all the tasks I needed to accomplish for that day.  Then I would clean.

And clean.

“When did we move into the Waldorf?”  He growled one evening.  He was a greasy mess.

I panicked.
“What do you mean? What did I miss Bob!  I have been cleaning like crazy all day long and now you come home and find dirt that’s been trampled by hundreds?”

Bob yelled in frustration and dropped the plate he was holding in his hand.

Actually, “I was talking about the squeaking sounds of cleanliness as I walk across my own damn floor!  Floors are not supposed to squeak Susan!”

“Why don’t they give you showers down there
where you work.  If they would let you shower down there, then I would not have to scrub our shower every morning before I can bathe?”

“Well,
I don’t shower at work because I don’t live there.  Work is not like gym class, Susan. I get paid so I can have a house of my own with a shower and bathtub in it.”

“Well, this house is a wreck!”
I slammed down the pan I was using to cook the fish.  It splattered grease on my arm and I grabbed a towel.  Now I was even more angry, and Bob topped it all off by saying: “The house isn’t a wreck.  You are, because you’re trying to by crazy-clean Martha!”

“You take that back!”  I shrieked
.  Back then all my nerves were still raw about how much I hated the way my Mom and Anna acted.

Instead he took his big, beefy meat hook and wiped it on the wall above where I could reach
.  “I will when you quit acting bat-shit crazy like the rest of the women in your family.”