Troubled waters, p.18
Troubled Waters, page 18
Macey took a breath. She had to. She was feeling lightheaded because she’d been talking nonstop. He wanted to discuss her past. Well, this was her past. As he cleared her plate with the untouched portions of snake and rabbit, there was a small smile of satisfaction on his face. The questions were coming, she knew, but at least she could appease him for now with a few facts about her life.
She continued as they moved into the living room. “By the time Rob broke up with me, I was pretty much hardened, so it didn’t really hurt that much. I sort of expected it. I’m occasionally too temperamental, my hours are wacky, and I’ve become calloused. Doesn’t exactly make the perfect formula for a little housewife, does it?” Macey couldn’t help but glance at the picture of Emily on the nearby end table.
Noah sat opposite her in a plush leather chair, his feet propped up on the ottoman, his coffee neatly balanced on his lap. He was listening, but Macey sensed he was deriving some amusement from something other than what she shared.
“I’m rambling,” she finally confessed. She laughed to herself, embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. On most of her prior dates this would be the point where the male would begin reciting all of his past mistakes and disappointments, a common practice so both understood exactly what they were getting into. Everyone, in her experience anyway, had a long laundry list. Breakups, divorces, heartaches. But as she stared at the dark-haired man across the living room, she suspected this wasn’t going to be any ordinary evening. She also suspected he wasn’t going to have much of a laundry list.
She sipped her coffee, well aware that as she sat silently, Noah was reading her like a book. She’d never met anyone like him. It seemed it didn’t matter what she said, he was able to sift through it all and find the truth.
She decided to fill the silence again. “You know those commercials—the ones where there’s a group of people sitting around, all drinking wine or some other beverage, laughing and joking and hugging like they’ve been soul mates their whole lives?” She looked up at Noah for a reaction. He nodded. “I hate those commercials. Because none of it’s true. I mean, do people really get together, everyone with the love of his or her life, and play games or sing songs or walk on the beach together and then roast marshmallows? Is there such a thing as three women, all the same age, getting along like sisters?” She shook her head. Why was she saying this? The words were pouring out and she couldn’t stop them. “I wish, just once, a commercial would depict real life. For the most part women hate each other, and men are out for the chase. Couples eat their meals in silence because they have nothing left to say to each other. I’ve yet to sit at a dinner table with a group of friends and everyone clink their wine glasses and laugh at the pure joy of just being together.”
Noah remained comfortable in his chair, his eyes sparkling with what seemed like compassion. She wasn’t sure. It was probably pity. Then he said, “Well, I can’t say that I ever expected my life to be about images.”
Macey lowered her head and stared at the carpet. How humiliating. Now he was going to lecture her.
“But I know what you mean.”
Macey looked up. “You do?”
“Sure,” Noah said. “Much of New York is about just that—image. Greenwich Village, at least. Emily and I owned a loft apartment near there during our time in New York. It had twenty-five-hundred square feet, plenty of room for parties and social events. But we found ourselves having trouble finding even ten people we wanted to spend the evening with. Most of the time we sat on the couch eating pizza and watching movies. We were in the prime of our lives, in the middle of the New York City arts scene, and all we wanted to do was stay at home. How’s that for imagery?”
Macey smiled, shrugged, and said, “That’s a nice image, actually. Two people in love, spending time alone, pushing the outside world away.”
“I suppose it is.” He returned the smile. “You know, friends aren’t hard to find if you just let it happen. Let the unexpected happen.” He paused, then said, “My closest friends here are all over sixty.”
Macey chuckled. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “Every Tuesday and Thursday at noon I go have coffee with the boys. There were seven of us, until your dad died. We meet up at the Cracker Jack and have coffee and talk. That’s it. Pretty simple.”
Macey nodded and looked away. He considered her father a friend? How bizarre. She didn’t take too long to think about it, though, because that would cause silence, and she couldn’t afford for there to be any silence this evening.
“Sometimes I long for my childhood,” she said carefully, hoping not to open a Pandora’s box. “Things were simple then; friendships were easily made. Life was black and white. My biggest worry was whether or not the frog I’d caught was going to stay in the box I’d put him in.” She followed the curve of her knee with her finger. “I used to beg to stay outside longer so I could watch the fireflies.”
Noah’s eyes engaged hers. “Sounds like you had a nice childhood.”
Macey smiled with uncertainty. Yes. She did have a nice childhood. What a terrible setup for all that happened to her. She refocused on the carpet. “I just wish commercials or television or movies would tell the truth. Movies. There’s one for you. Guy and girl love each other. Guy and girl have a fight. Girl runs out the door. Guy goes after her.” She laughed, throwing her head back. “When has that ever happened? Guy doesn’t go after her! Guy doesn’t even call her! In fact, Guy has already moved on to the next girl because things just got ‘too complicated.’ ” She realized her voice had turned edgy, and she took a breath and sipped her coffee, avoiding Noah’s questioning eyes. “I’m just saying, it’s like the whole world is out to set you up for disappointment. Cologne doesn’t make you prettier. Makeup doesn’t make you younger. Toothpaste doesn’t make you happier. House paint doesn’t bring you closer. New shoes don’t solve every problem in your life. Whole-grain cereal doesn’t make you feel better about yourself. Lower long-distance rates won’t bring you freedom. Shall I go on?”
Noah laughed. “If you want to.”
Macey shook her head and laughed a little at herself, too. “I guess I’ll get off my soapbox now.”
Noah uncrossed and recrossed his feet. “You’re right about all that, you know. There’s nothing tangible about the world. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”
“And that’s why you moved out here, to get away from the smoke and mirrors?”
Noah paused. “Well, partly. But the smoke and mirrors are everywhere.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke, and he glanced up at Macey. “There’s always somebody trying to create an illusion.”
Macey held her breath. What was he saying? Why was he staring at her like that? “I need to warm my cup.” She went to the kitchen and poured a swallow of coffee into her mug, then set it down. She leaned on the counter to catch her breath.
“I’m sorry.”
Macey jumped and turned around, her back up against the counter. She gazed up at Noah, who had somehow snuck up behind her. “Sorry for what?”
“Sorry you’re lonely.”
Macey swallowed. She wasn’t lonely. She talked to inanimate objects because they carried on better conversations than most people she knew.
“Savannah thinks you look sad.”
Macey’s eyes darted away from him. “What do kids know?”
Noah moved away from her and to the sink, where he began rinsing his cup. Without looking up, he said, “You know, Macey, I’m here if you need to talk.” He glanced back at her, then to the running water again.
Macey stuck her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, her shoulders slumping with a sudden depression. “I thought you were going to ask me about my past. I didn’t eat the meat. Aren’t you going to grill me now?”
Noah smiled as he said, “I think I know all I need to.”
Macey shook her head. She found her keys in her pocket. “I better go.”
“Okay.”
Macey walked to the front door, and after he opened it for her, she stepped out onto the small porch and said, “Thanks for the offer of being a friend. But I’ve got more baggage than any two people can carry.”
“Oh, I hadn’t planned on carrying your baggage for you. There’s someone else to do that.”
Macey frowned. “Who would that be?”
“Didn’t you listen in church this Sunday?”
Her fingers ran through her hair and she shook her head. “So that’s the solution, huh? God’s going to take care of all this baggage? God’s going to heal me?” She shot him an angry look. “Whatever. He’s had plenty of time to do that. No, I don’t think He’s going to take my baggage. In fact, He’s one of the reasons I have so much.” She tried to smile. “Thanks for dinner. I had a nice time.”
Macey spun on the ball of her foot and marched down the sidewalk and around the house to where her car was parked. Her fists were clinched into balls, and she looked as if she were carrying two imaginary pieces of luggage.
It took only a few seconds to get to her car and bend in. She turned the car around and headed down the long drive. She passed over a small hill that put her out of sight of Noah’s house.
Her foot pressed hard against the brake as tears rolled down her face. Looking back several times in the rearview mirror revealed nothing but an inky sky. She should’ve known better. A man had never run after her once in her life. Not even her father.
Her tears were hot with anger as she thought of Noah’s suggestion that it would be God who carried her baggage. The church always thought it had such simple answers. Faith, hope, and love would change everything, make it all better, solve every problem.
Didn’t they know better? Didn’t any of them see how life can pull you in, chew you up, and spit you out before you ever know what’s happening? A spiritual Band-Aid wasn’t going to do anything but attempt to cover up her ugly wounds. The Band-Aid would eventually fall off, and there the wound would be again for all to see.
She pounded her forehead against the steering wheel. She’d said too much. She’d poured out her heart too frankly tonight. And she hadn’t even said much of anything! Anything real, anything of substance! It was all just surface stuff. Smoke and mirrors. Yet Noah seemed to know more of her than she revealed. But how?
She wiped her nose and swiped at her tears. A deep breath, then another one. One of her former flames, Bobby maybe, had once said she was a “pretty crier.” She didn’t exactly know what that meant except that perhaps she could cry one moment and look normal the next. She lifted her foot off the brake and slowly maneuvered the car out onto the dirt road that led to the paved street. She glanced one more time in her rearview mirror.
———
Evelyn hummed along with the record player. A few decades ago, hardly anyone had two turntables in their homes. But Jess had always liked music, so they had one in their bedroom and several years later bought another for the living area. That was before the drought. After everything dried up, there hadn’t even been enough money for a new record to play on the thing.
The scissors ran smoothly along the dotted lines of the coupon page, and Evelyn spent thirty minutes cutting and sorting. She usually cut coupons on Sunday, but Sunday had been rather hectic so it had to wait until this evening.
Patricia had called a couple of hours earlier, just to check in, and promised she’d come by tomorrow. Other than the call from Noah, the phone had been silent, and so had the house. The music sounded so good.
“Bridge Over Troubled Water” came on, and Evelyn paused, remembering how much her husband had loved the song. He’d never been the flamboyant, charismatic type, but this song moved him somehow. She guessed the words were rich to him.
She wadded the unused clippings of the newspaper and tossed them in the trash, cleaning up the table and filing away her new coupons. She’d have to make a run to the store soon. Could she remember not to buy as much food? How in the world do you cook a roast for one? She concluded that she’d have to start inviting a lot of people over for dinner.
Back at the table she scanned the front page of the paper for any new news. Most of it was about the new technological center, whatever that was, west of Parsons on the 160. Most people griped about it. It was an eyesore, that was for sure. Someone at church said it looked like Darth Vader had built it. She didn’t know who Mr. Vader was, probably some high-classed snooty architect, but it was true that it did tend to loom over the horizon. It was a large grouping of dark shiny buildings, sort of ominous looking, that stood in the middle of what was once a wheat field. Many had protested the company coming and building there. Nevertheless, they bought the land and constructed their big complex. It was supposed to bring new jobs to Parsons and surrounding towns. She didn’t know if it was doing that, but it sure was big. It had made for lots of lively conversation.
She flipped through the newspaper to see if there was anything else of interest and then came to the classifieds. She scanned it for upcoming garage sales in the area, then thought better about spending her money. According to her daughter, she was broke. She sighed and was about to close the newspaper when suddenly the job opportunity section caught her eye. She pressed the paper flat on the table and squinted as she tried to read the fine print with her bifocals. Maybe she could get a job! She ran her finger down the job listings. It was all so confusing, deciphering what each job title meant, and she was just about to give up when the back door swung open.
“Macey!” She smiled, but her daughter didn’t smile back. “How was dinner?”
“What is it with that song today?” Macey said, nodding toward the living room. She plopped down at the table, looked at Evelyn, and tried to smile pleasantly. “It was just fine. Noah tried to feed me snake and rabbit.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Well, my goodness. He doesn’t know you very well, does he?”
Macey folded her arms and stared at the table. “I think he knows me a little too well, to tell you the truth.” Her eyes focused on the newspaper. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, silly me, I’m looking through the classifieds. Thought about gettin’ me a job.”
“Mother!”
“What?”
Macey grabbed the newspaper and slid it closer to herself. “That’s it! We can get you a job! All you need is living-expense money. It shouldn’t be too hard finding you a job that’ll cover your everyday expenses.” Macey started scanning the listings. “Here’s a job at a florist. Here’s one at the school.” Macey glanced up at Evelyn, her eyes bright with hope. “Why didn’t I think of this?”
Evelyn cleared her throat. “Maybe because I haven’t worked a day in my life, dear.”
Macey’s eyes fell back to the paper. She read and talked at the same time. “That’s true, but there’s no time like the present. Even a part-time job would help.” She slammed her hands down on the table, and a wide grin spread across her face. “Step one. We need to figure out how much you’re going to be spending a month. Let’s get a paper and pencil.”
Evelyn watched her daughter rummage through the desk drawer to find both. She returned with a small tablet and a leaky pen, which seemed to suit her just fine. She made some notes at the top, then looked at her mom. “Well, you better start some coffee, Mom. It’s going to be a late night.”
———
Evelyn was on her third cup of coffee at ten past eleven o’clock. Her hands were trembling, from the caffeine she guessed. She was used to retiring around nine, but she relished the time spent with her daughter, knowing Macey was planning to leave tomorrow. She hoped that maybe if she didn’t ask, Macey might stay a little longer.
Her daughter was busily typing away at something that looked like a gigantic calculator to her, but Macey said it was called a laptop. Evelyn had seen a few computers in her life, but this one looked awfully fancy.
Across the table, papers and all sorts of documents were strewn. They’d spent almost two hours just trying to figure out what kind of expenses she had every month. Macey had lectured her on setting up a budget, so while Macey “entered the data” into that laptop of hers, Evelyn had been trying to write down what she typically bought at the grocery store every month.
Macey looked up from what she was doing. “Are you finished?”
Evelyn stared down at her piece of paper. “I guess so.” She was supposed to estimate how much each item cost, and she thought she’d done pretty well. She watched her daughter examine the paper as though she were looking for fleas on a cat.
She set the paper down and said, “That’s good. But, Mom, we’re going to have to put you on a monthly budget for food. You’re not going to be able to afford all that meat you’re used to.”
Evelyn nodded. Who would she cook it for now, anyway?
Macey kept typing away and, after a few minutes, leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. “There. That’s a start.”
“What?”
Macey turned the computer for Evelyn to see the screen. A chart of numbers stared back at her. It was much too sophisticated for someone like her.
“My goodness, what’s this?”
“I’ve been entering all these figures into a program I have on my computer. It tells us how much we’re going to need every month.” Macey glanced over at it. “About eight hundred, low end. But I’d like to see you bringing in around a thousand, just for some leeway. Prescriptions can be expensive. I know you don’t have a lot of medicine needs right now, but we want to be prepared, plan for things like that.” Macey emphasized the word prepared by leaning forward and looking her mom in the eye.
