Her hot chocolate had gone cold. Leilora shivered when she picked up the mug. Her memories were like the winter evening sky outside: dark, gray, consuming—the sun would set without a dying flare. The world would sleep soon as shadows would outnumber and overrun the fallen leaves and snowdrifts alike. The house had chilled considerably—Leilora checked the thermostat: 62 degrees Fahrenheit. She set it to hold at 65 for the night; she had changed her bedding to flannel sheets two days earlier—she would sleep well.
Leilora put her mug in the microwave for a quick reheat. And of course with all her recent voyages down memory lane, she couldn’t help but laugh at her father’s well-loved and slightly overused phrase: “Ahh, nuke for a minute or two in the microwave.” He had been such a steady man: firm in his beliefs, true to his word, and relentless in his love. And his life had stopped, just like that, without even a whimper at the finish. Where was the justice in that?
Was such a life meaningless? What if he hadn’t kept his promise to buy his daughters ice cream the day after he moved out? What if he had forgotten? What if he had cheated on her mother, as she did to him? Would the final result really be that different? So what if ice cream or not, lies or truth, one backstab or two? She couldn’t believe that actions carried much weight—because her father’s and sister’s deaths were inconsequential. No final, dying words of wisdom; no last goodbye kiss or squeeze of the hand. They had vanished like flies in a forest. And she hadn’t a chance of finding them again.
Leilora leaned her elbows on the countertop—rested her chin in the cup of her palms. Her cheeks were cold. The formations of the digital numbers on the microwave mutated in countdown fashion and she tapped her foot to the rhythm. Halfway through, her phone buzzed on the countertop. She crossed the room and answered.
“Yeah?”
“Hey Lei, it’s Shelley. You want to get some food or something?”
“Not really; why do you want to go out? The wet roads are going to freeze soon.”
“As if I’ve never driven in icy conditions—I’ll pick you up. Come on; it won’t be busy and I haven’t hung out with you in forever.”
“We went to Chili’s last weekend.”
“Besides that. What do you say?”
“Alright. I need to get out anyway.”
“Yes, you do. Which is why I called. Where do you want to go?”
“Let’s figure that out on the road.”
“That’s my girl. Always striving for economy.’
“Not really; if I were, I wouldn’t go out to eat with you so often.”
“I love you, Lei. So critical.”
“Would you stop generalizing, Shel?”
“If you’d swear at me, then maybe yes.”
“Just get over here.”
“Awww, come on. At least throw a ‘dammit Shel!’ in there.”
“Shelley!”
“Alright, Lei. I’m ‘OMW’.”
“Don’t use that internet speak when you’re on the phone with me…”
“JK; see you in a few, friend.”
“Bye Shelly,” Leilora finished, smiling, and hung up. Perhaps this was just what she needed: something to get her mind off the letter and its addicting influence. The real world of waitresses and tips and sweating glasses of ice water would be a refreshing change from this afternoon of nostalgic monotony, she told herself.
A couple minutes, two black coat sleeves, and a pair of boots later, Shelley’s lights shone through the window and Leilora stepped outside to go meet her. But then she found herself walking back inside, towards the table. There lay the letter; why couldn’t she just leave it alone! Perhaps Shelley could help her decide what to do about it, she thought, snatched it up, pocketed it, and hustled back outside. The chill of the air was palpable, though not overwhelming; she shivered and half-jogged to the waiting car. The shadowy form that was Shelley waved from inside. Leilora tried to open the door; it didn’t work. She peered in, pointed at the lock, and Shelley reached over to unlock her door.
“I didn’t know this car didn’t have automatic locks,” Leilora mentioned while climbing into the seat. Shelley grinned, shifting into reverse.
“You don’t know a lot of things. Like where we’re going to eat.”
“Well, where do you want to go?” Leilora asked while strapping herself in with the seatbelt. The buckle wouldn’t snap in place, though, and she flipped it and twirled it, trying to get a fit.
“Oh, uh…that broke last week. So just hang on to something,” Shelley advised.
“Thanks, Shel. I’ll just ponder my doom later,” Leilora said, grabbing with a single hand what her father had termed the “scream-and-hold bar” up to her right.
“Hey I have an idea: let’s drive to Vegas and get In-and-Out.”
“I can’t go to Vegas tonight; besides, we’re not in college anymore,” Leilora laughed. Shelley kept the straight face.
“Why not? Come one Lei, remember how long it’s been since we went last time? It’ll be a blast.”
“I don’t have the money, Shel. AND, it could snow again anytime soon.”
“Those are your best excuses? Money and weather? I don’t buy it; you know you want to,” Shelley teased, smiling now.
“Let’s just go to Benjamin’s and get some coffee, alright?” Leilora suggested.
“Preface that with ‘Dammit, Shel!’ and I’ll accept,” Shelley grinned and stopped at a red light. Leilora rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just one little ‘dammit’? Pleeeeease, Lei?”
“Are you going to get any food at Ben’s, or just coffee like me?” The light turned green; Shelley didn’t accelerate.
“I’m not going until you…” Shelley began, but a honk from behind her convinced her otherwise. Leilora laughed. “So are you?”
“Yes, of course. I haven’t eaten all day,” Shelley remarked and turned onto the highway towards town. Leilora made a face at her. “What?” Shelley defended herself, “I just get busy and forget.”
“How can you just ‘forget’?” Leilora questioned. They had discussed this before.
“Remember, I don’t have super metabolism like you; that’s the only way you could possibly eat so much and stay thinner than me.”
“I don’t see how you can function without eating; cars don’t run without gas, and girls don’t run without food,” Leilora pointed out.
“Unless you drive everywhere, like me,” Shelley smiled and pulled into the parking lot just outside the strip of stores in which Benjamin’s Café was located. Once they had pushed through the glass doors, a friendly face met theirs.
“You can sit anywhere, ladies; I’ll be right with you,” a bouncy young waitress told them. Shelley picked the booth by the window with the neon “Open” sign glowing above it. Two menus decorated the table; Shelley didn’t hesitate to open hers and begin browsing. Leilora watched the few lingering headlights streaming down the highway.
“How are you doing, Shel?” she asked after a minute’s pause. From behind the menu, Shelley replied, “Fine,” and, without looking up, she asked, “How have you been Lei?” Leilora rolled her eyes and fingered the menu.
“Somewhere between not-so-great and completely horrid.”
Shelley’s menu fell to the table. “What? Why?”
“It’s just been a busy week,” Leilora answered.
“Uh huh…busy. Busy never means completely horrid. Busy means ‘I’m tired but I’ll get a fantastic paycheck’; that never means completely horrid. What’s going on, girl?”
Leilora could never fault Shelley’s intentions—her method, always, but never her heart. It was solid gold. Behind her jokes and wisecracks, Leilora could rely on an honest interest from her. Shelley had been there in college for break-ups and failed tests and bad hair days—and it almost perpetually ended in chocolate. Whether it genuinely helped or made for a good excuse to indulge, they had eaten way too much chocolate late at night together. Memories came rushing into her mind; but Shelley’s stare turned them back.
“I just got this letter from my great Aunt Mary, today.”
“The one with the strawberries? That killed your father?” Shelley inquired.
“Yes, but she didn’t kill my father…”
“Uh-huh, right. That’s not what I remember you saying that night with the chocolate chip cookie dough,” Shelley prodded. Leilora put her menu down.
“It was mere coincidence that as she came into the room my father went into cardiac arrest. It would have happened if she were there or not,” Leilora affirmed.
“Is that why you were cursing her name and day of birth?”
“I was not cursing.”
“’Damn you Aunty Mary!’ counts, Lei. I can’t tell you how proud I was of you that night,” Shelley smiled; Leilora sighed and glanced at the transparent reflection of the booth opposite them in the window. “Anyway, she sent you a letter? An apology, I hope.”
“No, I don’t know what it was…”
“A will? She’s fairly rich, isn’t she?” Shelley’s eyes lit up. “Hey, she is your only family, isn’t she? Yeah?”
Leilora nodded with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a will. It was kinda weird. Mysterious, in a way.”
“How so?” Shelley wondered with growing interest.
A sly smile stretched across Leilora’s mouth. “Want to read it?”
“You have it with you?” Shelley asked. Then she dropped her shoulders in epiphany. “That’s why you said, ‘yes’ to going out; you wanted me to read this letter, didn’t you?” She accused, nodding her head. Leilora laughed.
“Yeah…I did.”
“Well, let’s have it then!” Shelley demanded. As Leilora reached into her pocket, the waitress came back.
“Can I take y’all’s orders now?” she asked.
“I don’t know this guy named ‘yall’” Shelley ventured, “But I’m ready to order.” The waitress’s smile didn’t lessen as she nodded and readied her pen—the joke escaping her entirely. “I’ll take a hamburger: tomato, lettuce, and ketchup only. With a baked potato for the side, please.”
“Okay. And to drink?”
Shelley smiled. “Strawberry lemonade.”
“And what about you, deary?” the waitress asked Leilora.
“I’ll just have a water, please.”
“Lemon with that?”
“No. Thanks,” Leilora replied.
The waitress nodded and said, “Well then, I’ll be right back with your drinks!”
When she had waltzed out of earshot, Shelley turned back to Leilora, something fierce glowing in her eyes. “Since when did Benny hire a Texan for a waitress. Completely missed my y’all joke! Are they all growing that stupid down there now?”
“Now, Shelley, be nice to the girl…”
“What, because she’s one of the millions invading and stupefying our great state? I say if they all love
“Shelley…”
“I’m not finished, Lei. I say we close the borders of our state; if you weren’t born here, too bad; you can’t come in. You have any idea how much better life would be without them? And then take away the Californians, too! It would be utopia. Land would be cheap and beautiful, winter driving would be safe, the summers would be quiet and peaceful. Can you imagine Lei? Sheer perfection in life!”
“I think you’ve polished that speech too well,” Leilora commented while playing with a sugar packet.
“You know it’s true…well anyway, what about that letter?” Shelley prodded. “Do I get to read it like you want me to?”
Leilora fished it out of her pocket for the second time and stretched it out towards Shelley, holding it between two fingers. Shelley snatched it up and pulled the two pages from the envelope. Leilora flicked the sugar packet to the center of the table and instead fiddled with the salt shaker to pass the time while Shelley read.
When she finished, Shelley wrinkled her nose. Leilora laughed. “What was that about?” she asked her friend.
“What the hell is two steps and up from the mirror in the attic? And why is it so important to a dying old lady?” Shelley wondered.
“I don’t know,” Leilora admitted as the waitress sauntered up to them with their drinks.
“Here y’all are. I’ll get your food to you as soon as the chef gets it to me,” she smiled at Shelley and turned.
“Easy, Shel…” Leilora soothed. Shelley seemed to have ignored the entire occurrence and instead shifted the conversation back.
“That’s kinda creepy, you know? Your great Aunt asking you to visit her attic after all these years. Do you remember that short story…what was it called? It had a rose in the title. By Faulkner maybe?”
“A Rose for Emily?” Leilora suggested.
“Yeah, where she kills her husband with rat poison and leaves his body in the attic…sleeps with him in the coffin for like 50 years. What if you find that in her attic?” Shelley grimaced.
“Shelley, that was a story. This is real life. I just wonder what’s so important about this mirror in her attic…”
“It’s not the mirror, Lei, that’s important. It’s whatever is two steps from the mirror and above you,” Shelley clarified.
“Yeah, I guess. I just wondered why she mentioned the mirror. It’s the only thing I remember about her attic, besides boxes…and a dress. Did I ever tell you about the dress?” Leilora asked.
“No. Please continue.”
“It was during the same stay as the strawberries. After dinner, she took me up to the attic and showed me her wedding dress—and Indian wedding dress.”
“Like one with eagle feathers and grizzly-tooth beads and buffalo leather?” Shelley asked.
“Not Native American; Indian…like the sub-continent,” Leilora explained.
“Ohh…sorry. Just say ‘Indian Dot, not Feather.’ Go ahead. I promise I won’t interrupt again.”
“It was Indian silk, beautifully embroidered. Anyway, she had me try it on; it was a little big, of course, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. Maroon and gold. I would take that over white any day. Such wonderful colors. But yeah, she had me try it on in front of the mirror. I felt ecstatic, looking at myself in that oval mirror. I could have danced until my legs gave out in that dress, the way it hugged my legs when I twirled,” Leilora seemed to finish and trailed off.
“Umm…so you tried on a dress. And that helps you with this mysterious letter how?” Shelley wondered, a touch of sarcasm tainting her voice.
“I don’t know; that’s my only memory of the mirror. I just wonder why she thought it was so important or why she thought I might remember it,” Leilora suggested.
“Beats me. But I do know one thing,” Shelley stated. Leilora raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“We’re road-tripping to
“No, Shel. No. I can’t.”
“Oh come on, Lei. Of course you can. And if you really can’t, always begin with a ‘Godammit Shel! before you say ‘No,’” Shelley laughed.
“I really can’t, Shel. I don’t have…”
“Yeah, yeah…I know. The money nor the time. But you missed a key part of that letter. God, Lei. I don’t know what you’d do without me!” Leilora looked at the ceiling. “Don’t you remember the part where she said “I’m dying!” Lei, this is huge. She’s rich; you’re the only family member left. That makes you rich. Which answers the money question and nullifies the time question. So what else can you do but drive out to
“Shelley, no. Don’t…”
“Lei, this crazy letter is driving you bonkers, I know it. So let’s have you relax a bit: we’ll take a trip to
Leilora laughed and sat back in the booth. “Why do you want to go so bad?” she asked Shelley while staring at the plaster on the ceiling.
“I have a proposal due tomorrow,” she answered, smiling. Leilora snapped her eyes back on Shelley.
“You do not!”
“You’re right, I don’t. But if I did, I’d go all the same. So it doesn’t matter why I’m going. So let’s eat our dinner, fill up the tank at the Conoco at the edge of town, and blow this joint!”
“You mean, ‘eat your dinner.’”
“No, Lei. I hate potatoes; you know that. I ordered that for you; you hungry thang,” Shelley retorted. Leilora sighed.
“I really can’t go, Shel. I don’t have any clothes or toiletries or anything.”
“So we’ll stop at a fancy hotel that comes with them…or swing by your place really quick before we leave. Come on, Lei. This will be just like old times. It’ll be fun and you know it. Please Lei? I haven’t ever had a mystery like this to solve!”
The waitress sashayed around the corner with a plate of food held above her head on her upturned palm. “Here you go! Can I get y’all anything else?”
“Nope! Thanks!” Shelley pantomimed gratitude.
“Sure thing. Have a great meal!” she said and strode back to the kitchen. Shelley rolled her eyes and passed the baked potato to Leilora, who found her fork and poked at it; Benny sure could bake a good potato.
“Come on, Lei. Eat up. We gotta get on the road, girl.”
“Right,” Leilora said and scooped up a forkful. “
1 comment:
c'mon dude, there's lots of good things in texas...border of New Mexico, border of Oklahoma, border of...... Haha, yeah, wish i could claim it. Oh well. Preach it Shelly!
Post a Comment