Clean Slate by Harley Crowley
Chapter 16
His stomach rumbled the announcement that all he'd had to eat was a piece of toast. And too many cups of coffee.
"Who usually does the cooking around here?"
"Mostly me. Are you getting hungry?"
She'd been doing so much to take care of him, he decided it was definitely his turn.
"Why don't I fix us something?" He went to the refrigerator. "I could make an omelet." There was a jar of salsa on the shelf, and a package of cheddar in the compartment on the door.
She'd started to get up, but she sat back in her chair at the table. "That sounds good." He got the eggs and butter out and looked for a bowl and Carrie pointed at the cupboard above the stove. He found the gadget drawer without help and grated some cheese and took a pan off the rack on the wall, putting in a slice of butter, turning on the burner. There were green onions in the vegetable bin and he chopped some. He felt good, competent, like he was in charge of something.
"How about some salami?" She made a face. He chopped a few pieces up for himself and set them aside.
Carrie was watching him, a half-smile on her face. "You used to do this all the time. When you were in law school. I'd get home from work and you'd have all the ingredients ready to go. Omelets were your specialty. This is nice."
He was amazed at how much pleasure spread through him, to hear her talk about the times that had looked so happy in the album; that she hadn't forgotten, even if he couldn't remember being there. But in a way he was remembering, his hands and body moving efficiently at his task. When the omelets were cooked he slid them onto plates and sprinkled some field greens from a bag in the refrigerator on the side, and brought them to the table along with the jar of salsa and a bottle of salad dressing.
She took a bite and smiled at him. "You haven't lost your touch." She got up to get napkins, and the phone rang. She picked up the receiver and tucked it between her ear and shoulder while she dipped her knees to reach a drawer.
"Oh, hi Sandra." She shot him a wary glance. His stomach lurched. He hadn't been thinking about Sandra. Carrie stretched the cord and reached out to hand him the napkins and then went back to the counter.
"Fine, we're fine. How about you?"
"Brian?" She was replying to Sandra. His mother was asking to talk to him. Carrie questioned him with her eyebrows, and he was chagrined to show his cowardice, but he cringed a little and held up his hands, palms out, and shook his head.
"He's not handy right now. I could ask him to call you back. Or give him a message?" She grimaced and looked at him apologetically. "Oh, that's good. Why don't you come over for dinner when you finish there, since you'll be close." She shrugged in Brian's direction, telegraphing her helplessness.
"What about 5:30? We have to be somewhere this afternoon and I'm sure we'll be back by then. But you know where the key is if we're late. Yes, I know it's Friday. He has the day off. Yes, a personal holiday. Okay then, we'll see you tonight. Good. Bye now."
She came back to the table shaking her head. "That was stupid. I'm sure she was just confused when she asked for you. All I had to say was that it's Friday, and she would have realized it was a workday. I didn't have to lie to her. And then pile on another lie. Personal holiday." She seemed disgusted with herself, even though it was a small lie for a good reason, to make things easier for his mother.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's my fault." He didn't know why he said that, except he felt like everything was his fault. "She's coming tonight?"
"She's already going to be in town. She has an appointment with her hairdresser here. She's never found someone she likes out there. She usually drops by once she's made the drive."
"Maybe Dr. Richardson will fix me this afternoon, and we'll never have to worry her at all." He hit the side of his head with the flat of his hand, as if he were adjusting an old television set. And he'd made her laugh again.
He looked at her with appreciation. "You're very compassionate with my mother. I get the idea she can be a difficult person."
"She was fine until your dad got sick. Well, she had her moments, but nothing serious. She hasn't been one of those problem mothers-in-law you hear about. But now she's sort of spacey. She isn't adjusting very well. You've been good to her too, even though you've been so busy lately."
Well, I'm not busy now.
Carrie cleared the table and put their dishes in the sink.
"I looked through the photo album this morning while you were gone. I didn't ask you about your family last night. Where are your folks? Are they still alive? And you have two brothers?" She leaned a hip against the counter, facing him.
"I forgot you wouldn't know that either. Mom and Dad live in Sacramento. That's where I grew up. They're alive and kicking, and still working. Mom's a landscape architect and Dad's got a construction business. Sometimes she works on his projects."
"What about your brothers?"
"Colin is in the Bay Area, Cupertino. Computer engineer geek. And Sean teaches philosophy at BYU. I'm the slow kid, still going to school."
"Do your brothers have kids? Cousins for this one?" He gestured towards her belly. "Come to think it, does my sister have children?"
She turned back to the sink and started running water for the dishes. "Yes, Elaine has two boys. I guess you wouldn't remember, but she's divorced. My brother Colin has three kids. And Sean is gay, no partner, no kids."
"He's gay and he teaches at BYU? How does that work out?"
"I don't think it is a real problem there at the university. The real problem is with my folks. He's never come out to them. They just keep ragging on him about getting married. I wish he'd tell them and get it over with. Family get-togethers are tense. Secrets ruin everything. Even if sometimes the truth is harder." She kept her back to him until she'd finished with the dishes.
His stomach rumbled the announcement that all he'd had to eat was a piece of toast. And too many cups of coffee.
"Who usually does the cooking around here?"
"Mostly me. Are you getting hungry?"
She'd been doing so much to take care of him, he decided it was definitely his turn.
"Why don't I fix us something?" He went to the refrigerator. "I could make an omelet." There was a jar of salsa on the shelf, and a package of cheddar in the compartment on the door.
She'd started to get up, but she sat back in her chair at the table. "That sounds good." He got the eggs and butter out and looked for a bowl and Carrie pointed at the cupboard above the stove. He found the gadget drawer without help and grated some cheese and took a pan off the rack on the wall, putting in a slice of butter, turning on the burner. There were green onions in the vegetable bin and he chopped some. He felt good, competent, like he was in charge of something.
"How about some salami?" She made a face. He chopped a few pieces up for himself and set them aside.
Carrie was watching him, a half-smile on her face. "You used to do this all the time. When you were in law school. I'd get home from work and you'd have all the ingredients ready to go. Omelets were your specialty. This is nice."
He was amazed at how much pleasure spread through him, to hear her talk about the times that had looked so happy in the album; that she hadn't forgotten, even if he couldn't remember being there. But in a way he was remembering, his hands and body moving efficiently at his task. When the omelets were cooked he slid them onto plates and sprinkled some field greens from a bag in the refrigerator on the side, and brought them to the table along with the jar of salsa and a bottle of salad dressing.
She took a bite and smiled at him. "You haven't lost your touch." She got up to get napkins, and the phone rang. She picked up the receiver and tucked it between her ear and shoulder while she dipped her knees to reach a drawer.
"Oh, hi Sandra." She shot him a wary glance. His stomach lurched. He hadn't been thinking about Sandra. Carrie stretched the cord and reached out to hand him the napkins and then went back to the counter.
"Fine, we're fine. How about you?"
"Brian?" She was replying to Sandra. His mother was asking to talk to him. Carrie questioned him with her eyebrows, and he was chagrined to show his cowardice, but he cringed a little and held up his hands, palms out, and shook his head.
"He's not handy right now. I could ask him to call you back. Or give him a message?" She grimaced and looked at him apologetically. "Oh, that's good. Why don't you come over for dinner when you finish there, since you'll be close." She shrugged in Brian's direction, telegraphing her helplessness.
"What about 5:30? We have to be somewhere this afternoon and I'm sure we'll be back by then. But you know where the key is if we're late. Yes, I know it's Friday. He has the day off. Yes, a personal holiday. Okay then, we'll see you tonight. Good. Bye now."
She came back to the table shaking her head. "That was stupid. I'm sure she was just confused when she asked for you. All I had to say was that it's Friday, and she would have realized it was a workday. I didn't have to lie to her. And then pile on another lie. Personal holiday." She seemed disgusted with herself, even though it was a small lie for a good reason, to make things easier for his mother.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's my fault." He didn't know why he said that, except he felt like everything was his fault. "She's coming tonight?"
"She's already going to be in town. She has an appointment with her hairdresser here. She's never found someone she likes out there. She usually drops by once she's made the drive."
"Maybe Dr. Richardson will fix me this afternoon, and we'll never have to worry her at all." He hit the side of his head with the flat of his hand, as if he were adjusting an old television set. And he'd made her laugh again.
He looked at her with appreciation. "You're very compassionate with my mother. I get the idea she can be a difficult person."
"She was fine until your dad got sick. Well, she had her moments, but nothing serious. She hasn't been one of those problem mothers-in-law you hear about. But now she's sort of spacey. She isn't adjusting very well. You've been good to her too, even though you've been so busy lately."
Well, I'm not busy now.
Carrie cleared the table and put their dishes in the sink.
"I looked through the photo album this morning while you were gone. I didn't ask you about your family last night. Where are your folks? Are they still alive? And you have two brothers?" She leaned a hip against the counter, facing him.
"I forgot you wouldn't know that either. Mom and Dad live in Sacramento. That's where I grew up. They're alive and kicking, and still working. Mom's a landscape architect and Dad's got a construction business. Sometimes she works on his projects."
"What about your brothers?"
"Colin is in the Bay Area, Cupertino. Computer engineer geek. And Sean teaches philosophy at BYU. I'm the slow kid, still going to school."
"Do your brothers have kids? Cousins for this one?" He gestured towards her belly. "Come to think it, does my sister have children?"
She turned back to the sink and started running water for the dishes. "Yes, Elaine has two boys. I guess you wouldn't remember, but she's divorced. My brother Colin has three kids. And Sean is gay, no partner, no kids."
"He's gay and he teaches at BYU? How does that work out?"
"I don't think it is a real problem there at the university. The real problem is with my folks. He's never come out to them. They just keep ragging on him about getting married. I wish he'd tell them and get it over with. Family get-togethers are tense. Secrets ruin everything. Even if sometimes the truth is harder." She kept her back to him until she'd finished with the dishes.