Travel with the aunts, p.23
Travel with the Aunts, page 23
Allison slunk over the couch and sank down, wishing she could hide under the cushions.
Tiles were reorganized and play resumed.
A very raucous hour later, the Mexican Train became a catastrophic train wreck. Norman tossed back shots of whiskey with beer chasers. Rosie wove back and forth in her seat. Tiles littered both the table and the floor. Daisy now had a beer in a tall glass which she had salted to bring up a foamy head. Leaning over, she sucked foam off the top, coming up with a bubbly mustache and lopsided grin. Adorabelle had wisely fled her basket to go into hiding in the bedroom. Allison wished she could join her.
Allison thought of Daisy’s comment, No one can be grounded, and everyone is of legal drinking age.
Laughter and confusion brought an end to the game. Tiles were repacked, a drink spilled, and the pack of elderlies looked in dismay at the tiles scattered on the floor. Allison, realizing she was the only one who wasn’t at risk of falling over, roused herself from the couch to retrieve them.
She walked Peggy and Rosie back across the street to Peggy’s house. Reaching the door, Peggy wove gently as she attempted to insert her key. Giving up, she waved off Allison’s offer to help. “You wait here. I’ll open it from the inside.”
Concentrating on her walking, Peggy tottered unsteadily into her open garage, through the unlocked door from the garage into the house, and, moments later, Allison heard the lock tumble. Peggy pulled the door open with a smile, standing aside to wave them in.
After helping Rosie find her nightgown, checking the bruise on her upper arm and on her back between her shoulders, she helped her to pull off her sandals and support hose. Allison then retreated to the bathroom for a shower.
With Rosie out like a light, Allison crawled into bed, lay on her back, and gazed meditatively at the ceiling. I definitely don’t want to grow old. Heck, I’m not sure I want to grow up! She sighed, then started to smile. They certainly were enjoying themselves. Like children.
Chapter 21
Rampaging Golf Carts
Allison awoke to blissful quiet. Only the gentle hum of the air conditioner intruded on the silence. Sun streamed through the large windows. She rose quietly, dressed, and headed out for a good walk.
She covered some of the areas she’d seen the evening before, but also found the community pool with its wall of post boxes next to the parking lot. She roamed on among larger, more expensive homes that faced on to the golf course. She eventually found Tamarisk Street, which she knew led back to Jean’s. She turned toward the water tower, which Jean had listed as a landmark, and walked.
Thinking she must be close to Jean’s house, she saw a man standing by the side of the street watching a small, fluffy, reddish dog sniffing around on a corner lawn. The dog squatted. The man dutifully pulled a poo bag from his pocket and scooped up the droppings. He walked slowly toward Allison without looking up. It was Norman. She started to call out a greeting, but then he stopped and looked furtively left and right, but not toward her. Taking a quick look at the house closest to him, he tossed the poo bag down the storm drain before hurrying on in her direction.
“Good morning, Norman,” Allison greeted when he came closer. Looking up, startled, Norman hesitated as Adorabelle rushed to the end of her long leash, wiggling and grinning.
“Oh. Morning,” he replied. Clearing his throat as Allison bent to greet the happy little dog, he continued. “Jean expects you in about a half-hour for breakfast.” He then meandered on down the street, pulling the little dog after him.
Back in Peggy’s house, Allison found the two ladies sitting quietly at the dining room table, sipping black coffee.
“Enjoy your walk?” Peggy asked softly.
“Yes. I met Norm out walking the dog. He said we’re expected for breakfast in a half hour.”
Rosie groaned.
While Rosie got dressed and ready, Allison put their first load of laundry in Peggy’s machine. She’d kindly offered her laundry facilities rather than let the guests overwhelm Jean.
Allison once more held one elder on each side of her as they crossed over to Jean’s house. The scene there was similar to Peggy’s. Daisy and Josie sat at the table, quietly sipping black coffee. Jean, bustling around her kitchen, looked up as they entered. “Oh, good. You’re here. The casserole is nearly ready.”
Casserole?
“Good morning.” Josie didn’t sound like she really meant it. “We must have had fun. I don’t remember how the evening ended.”
Peggy kicked off her shoes and pulled out a pair of slippers from the bag she’d brought.
“Have you been out for a walk?” Seeing Allison nod, Jean abandoned what she was doing. “I don’t want you on my carpets with dirty shoes.”
Obediently kicking off her sandals, she started to help Rosie remove hers. Jean handed Rosie the same pair of white terry scuffs with the number four in green magic marker on the toe. “You’ll wear the same ones while you’re here. I wash them before someone else wears them,” Jean chattered.
Slipping on the required scuffs, Allison helped Rosie and Peggy into their seats. She couldn’t resist taking a closer look at Peggy’s dentures as she helped her into her chair. Turning to the counter, she took the plates that Jean had laid out, setting them out in front of the quiet ladies. Utensils, glasses, and a jug of fresh orange juice completed the table setting.
The timer on the stove buzzed. Jean pulled open the oven door, peered in, then grabbed a mitt and pulled out a square glass casserole dish. Allison’s eyebrows went up. What in blazes is that?
Jean cut the casserole into nine pieces, glancing toward the door for Norman.
Jean proudly set the dish on a hot pad on the table.
“What is it?” Rosie asked hesitantly.
“Breakfast casserole! I got it ready yesterday afternoon.” Jean smiled, looking around at the doubt-filled faces. “First you put a layer of bread. I used whole wheat. Then cover it with six beaten eggs. Next a layer of bacon or sausage. I used turkey sausage. You can also add a layer of cheese, but we had cheese at lunch yesterday, so I didn’t want to use it again. Cheese is binding, you know. Then it is finished with another layer of bread and six more beaten eggs. Also, some salt and pepper.”
Allison put her hand to her mouth. Eeww. Thinking fast, she remembered a friend in college who was allergic to eggs. She would get congested and cough heavily when she ate them. “I’m allergic to eggs!” Allison blurted. Everyone turned to her, startled. “Sorry. It’s not bad, I mean, I don’t need an EpiPen or anything, but I get very congested, coughing, a really bad headache,” she babbled, hoping her aunts would not point out that she had eaten eggs on several occasions on their trip.
“Oh.”
Josie turned to glare in Daisy’s direction. You didn’t have to be able to read minds to see what she was thinking. Why didn’t I think of that?
“What do you usually have?” Jean asked, obviously disappointed.
Allison shrugged. “Cereal. Yogurt. Fruit. I could have toast and some of the meat and cheese that you have from yesterday,” she finished hopefully.
Jean shook her head in confusion. “But that’s lunch meat. You can’t have lunch meat for breakfast.”
Daisy pushed herself up. “You get people served. I’ll take care of Allison.”
Norman rattled his way in, preceded by a happy, wagging little dog. He kicked off his shoes, replacing them with his own dark-green plaid slippers.
Daisy popped bread in the toaster, and while Jean’s back was turned, pulled out ham and cheddar cheese from the refrigerator. “It’s toast and a ham and cheese omelet, without the eggs. See? Breakfast!” Daisy whispered, with a grin.
Allison smiled gratefully. She buttered her toast as Daisy filled a large glass of orange juice. Daisy covered her sandwich with a napkin, and announced loudly, “Why don’t you take it out on the back patio. You know where the door is.”
Allison had the glass of juice in one hand and the plate with a covered sandwich in the other. Jean hopped up, bustled into the kitchen, pulled out an anti-bacteria wet wipe, and tucked it under a spare finger.
“Wipe off the table before you set anything on it.”
Allison nodded, wondering how she was expected to wipe the table without setting anything down.
So quiet and peaceful. Allison leaned back in the cast-iron patio chair. Yes, there had been a film of something on the table, probably pollen, so she’d wiped her chair as well. No birds, no songs. Curious. Occasionally, she heard the quiet putter of a golf cart going by or muted sounds of traffic from the main street a couple blocks away. She found she would very much like to spend the day right here.
The door opened, and Josie huffed out. She plunked down in the second patio chair. “Neurotic bundle of nerves!”
Feeling relaxed, Allison responded, “You or Jean?”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the door! Don’t let the bugs in!” She mimicked Jean’s screechy voice. “Take off your shoes! Your feet are dirty! Don’t slam the microwave door! You’ll damage the electronics!” Josie made a gagging sound. “How the devil did Daisy meet and befriend that woman? You and Rosie are lucky you get to retreat across the street and not have to put up with her even longer. This morning, it was all about her delicate stomach and what she could and couldn’t eat because of her irritable bowel syndrome. And Adorabelle? Gad, if I had a name like that, I’d pee on the floor, too!”
Allison laughed. “The dog is pretty cute.”
Josie shook her head in amazement. “The poor thing must have a golden personality to put up with those two.”
Josie leaned back, eyes closed, enjoying the sunshine on her face. “Oh, this quiet out here is soothing.”
Daisy poked her head out the door. “We’re ready to go. Jean is going to take us on a tour and then we’ll do some shopping. I’ll put in the second load of laundry before we leave.”
Josie groaned, pushed herself out of the chair, and followed her sister, holding the door as Allison grabbed her plate and glass to follow her.
Jean saw them coming, checked their feet for slippers, and then asked, “Did you put the chair cushions back in the bathtub?”
Josie came to a frowning stop. Allison halted, one foot raised, asking, “Cushions?”
Jean stopped what she was doing. “You did use the chair cushions, didn’t you?”
Allison shook her head.
“You washed off the seats?”
Feeling a wave of relief, Allison nodded. “Yes, I used the wipe you gave me and wiped down the table and the chair.” Oh, happy day! I did something right.
“Both chairs?” Jean shook her head in disgust. “I told you to use the cushions that are kept in the bathroom. We don’t leave them out where they’ll get wet or dirty.”
“Wait a minute!” Josie barked. “You told Daisy and me last night about not using the bathtub because you use it to store the outdoor cushions. You never told Allison about it. You never told her to use the chair cushions or where they are.”
Jean stared, her hands on her hips. “Did you sit in one of those chairs? Did you sit without wiping it off?” Jean turned, waving Josie to follow her. “Come with me.”
As Josie stomped after her, Allison saw the yellow dust on the seat of her capris. She twisted around to peer at her backside. Belle followed Jean and Josie into Jean’s bedroom. Belle followed happily, Allison with trepidation.
Jean showed Josie the two angled full-length mirrors, and had her turn so she could see the seat of her pants. “That’s why we either wipe off the seats or use the cushions, which are kept inside so they don’t get dirty.”
Staring at her yellow-powdered derriere, Josie ordered, “Allison, in my suitcase is a blue pair of shorts. Please bring them. Jean, may I use your bathroom to change?”
Allison ran across to Peggy’s house to put in a second load of laundry. She got back in time to hear an exchange between Daisy and Jean. “I never use dryer sheets; they cause cancer,” Jean explained as she tossed three spiky blue balls into the dryer.
“But aren’t those plastic?” Daisy asked.
“Of course. They prevent static cling without all the chemicals.”
Daisy acted like she was thinking seriously, frowned, and countered, “But plastic is full of chemicals. Aren’t you afraid the heat will release the chemicals?”
Jean turned, eyes wide, looking startled.
“I use natural materials.” Daisy went on, “I have balls of wool that I put in.”
Jean abandoned the laundry and rushed back into the house, shouting, “Norm? Norm! We need to get wool balls for the dryer!”
Allison stood, hand to her mouth. That sure looked like payback!
Daisy looked over with a devious smile, then shrugged. “Well, it’s true. Plastic is full of chemicals; my balls of wool aren’t.” She closed the dryer door, adjusted the settings, and punched the start button.
“You’re not worried about heated plastic dryer balls spewing chemicals on your clothes?” Allison grinned.
Daisy sent a sly glance at Allison. “Actually, I’m not sure if these are plastic or rubber.” She shrugged. “I use dryer sheets. The wool balls don’t work as well.”
••••••••••••••
Jean and Daisy climbed into the front seat of her white Prius, as Rosie and Josie crawled into the backseat, with Allison squashed in the middle. “Don’t slam the doors! It could damage the electronics,” Jean called as they maneuvered themselves in. Josie turned to Allison with a smirk and rolled her eyes.
Their hostess drove them all over the massive, sprawling Villages, where golf carts of all types whizzed along on both sides of the road. Jean took them through the high-end neighborhoods. Houses had birdcages—massive mesh screens that covered the patios and, in some cases, an outdoor pool, as well. Some sat on lots of several acres with perfectly manicured lawns and tasteful art works. They drove through new sections where land was just being cleared. Each area had a theme and a town square including a park with bandstand, shops, restaurants, and usually a movie theater. Each area had a swimming pool and community center. Jean pulled into the parking area to show them around the one in her section. The inside décor was opulent—richly decorated rooms with large vases of flowers and clusters of overstuffed chairs and couches.
From there, Jean drove them out of The Villages into the surrounding communities. Daisy shook her head in wonder. “Back in the real world. The difference is quite striking.”
“I can see why The Villages hold such an attraction.” Josie looked out the window at the messy small businesses, unkempt lawns, run down houses—the real world.
Jean wheeled into the parking lot of a Beall’s clothing outlet. “It is pronounced Bells.” She pointed to the sign that had a bell shape over the name. “I do most of my clothes shopping here. Come on!”
Jean bustled them around the store, choosing tops, pants, shorts, skirts, holding them up to herself. Daisy did the same. Josie frowned and looked bored. Rosie wandered dreamily, fingering clothing, but not taking any from the racks.
It wasn’t long before Jean had singled out Allison. “You really need this top. Look, it’s your color.” She pulled out shirts, blouses, shorts . . . “Where did you get your shorts? They’re horrific! Did they come from Walmart? I’ve only seen you wearing T-shirts. You need something dressier.”
Allison refrained from saying her shorts were from Kmart and that she liked them. They were comfortable. She liked her T-shirts and she had dressy things at home. She didn’t bring them on a road trip. Then Jean veered into the shoe department. “Those sandals do nothing for you,” she accused.
“They’re comfortable for walking.” Okay, so I’m not a fashion model. My clothes are comfortable. Allison decided she’d like to go back to being invisible and ignored. Then she noticed Rosie pulling out a colorful blouse. She held it against herself, then slowly put it back.
Jean pushed a pair of bejeweled strappy sandals in her face. Glancing at them, Allison shook her head. Leave me alone! I don’t need help choosing my own clothes. I have clothes at home. She sighed and turned to face Jean. They had another twenty-four hours in her house. She was putting them up and letting them use her laundry and supplies. Be nice! “Please, Jean. I appreciate your help, but I’m not going to buy any new clothes today.” She then turned her back and walked over to Rosie.
She watched her youngest aunt look at another blouse, fingering it, then turning away with an expression of longing. Allison realized she’d not seen Rosie pay for anything. She hadn’t paid for any meal or any hotel room. She hadn’t paid for gas or groceries. Allison remembered Daisy whispering, “She can’t afford it!” when they were talking about her moving into the senior apartments where Josie now lived.
When Mom and I went to see her sing, we picked her up and dropped her off outside her run-down, red brick apartment building. Rosie never invited us in. Singing with small bands, singing backup in recording studios, singing for television and radio commercials couldn’t pay much. I’m not the only one Daisy and Josie are paying for on this trip. That could definitely be a reason for her submission, for her just following along, not making demands.
“That’s a nice blouse. I’m ready for lunch. How about you?” The yearning on her aunt’s face was quickly replaced with a relieved smile.
“Me, too!” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You didn’t miss anything with that breakfast casserole.”
Daisy, looking their way, heard the lunch suggestion and repeated it to Jean, who was still choosing shoes and sandals for Allison. Josie heartily agreed.
Dismayed, Jean exclaimed, “But I thought we were going to shop for clothes!”
