Crazy Little Thing (25 page)

Fred

The
next morning Claire was feeding another dozen yellow roses down the garbage
disposal. Scarlet had sent a dozen roses every day this week. And instead of
making Claire happy, the flowers made her sad. They were a constant reminder
that something was dreadfully wrong with her relationship.

Meyer
sat on the counter watching her. It seemed to fascinate him that she could make
the roses disappear. Oscar sat at her feet looking up at her with soulful brown
eyes.

“At
least you two haven’t abandoned me,” Claire said, feeling sorry for herself.
She finished with the roses, knelt down and hugged Oscar. “I’m sorry I thought
I was allergic to you. And I’m glad you peed on Scarlet’s bag. She deserved
it.”

“The
problem is that you don’t like Scarlet either,” a voice said. “Your butt hasn’t
itched once since she’s been gone, has it?”

Claire
whirled around. The blind lady from next door stood in the doorway looking in
her general direction. She must’ve come in when Claire was using the garbage
disposal and she didn’t hear her.

“And
if you don’t want the flowers I wish you’d stop wasting them like that. I’ll
take them to the cemetery. I’m sure someone there would appreciate a little
color on top,” the blind lady said.

“A
little color on top?” Claire asked, standing back up.

“On
top of the graves. I go there to see my husband every day. Lots of the graves
could use some sprucing up. Those flowers would help.”

“How
did you know I was disposing of flowers?”

The
blind lady tapped her nose. It was at that moment Claire noticed something
she’d never seen before. Peeking out from under the blind lady’s sweater sleeve
was a row of numbers. A row of faded numbers was tattooed on her left forearm.

Claire
pried her gaze away from the tattoo. Somehow it felt like prying or peeking
through somebody’s living room window when they weren’t home. “Oh. Okay, I’ll
start saving the roses for you.”

“Thank
you, but I have a feeling you won’t be getting many more.”

“Why?”
Claire asked. “Wait a minute. I thought you were deaf and blind. How do you
know the graves need sprucing up?”

“It’s
not hard to imagine neglect,” the blind woman said. “It’s everywhere.” She
gestured around the room like maybe neglect was cowering in a corner of the
kitchen.

“Why
didn’t you tell us to feed the cats? Why did you keep doing it if you knew we
were here? We tried to explain but we thought you were deaf.”

“Oh,
that,” she said. “It’s funny how much you can learn about a person when they
think you can’t hear them. I’m sorry, it was awful of me, but I couldn’t stop
myself. You made the assumption and I just rolled with it. I must say the lot
of you have been mighty entertaining.”

“Well,
I’m glad we could be of some use.”

“I
want you to come to the cemetery with me. Bring the girls too,” the blind lady
said.

“What
girls?”

“Oscar
and Meyer.”

“I
thought Meyer was a boy hedgehog.”

“No,
he is all she.”

Claire
didn’t want to know how she knew that. “I didn’t think you can bring animals to
a cemetery.”

“You
can if you own the place. I’m Frederica Von Lenkenburg, proprietor of the Shady
Oaks resting sanctuary. Please call me Fred.”

“I’m
Claire.”

“Oh,
I know who you all are. Damn, if this place isn’t better than listening to the
soaps.”

“How
come you didn’t answer us when we first got here? Were you pretending to be
deaf?”

“No,
I had my ear bugs in. I was streaming NPR. It wasn’t until the next day I
figured out that you were here, but by then you all had your own ideas about
me. Now, get your coat and we’ll go see Hans.”

“Who’s
Hans?”

“My
husband.”

“I
sold my car. I can’t go anywhere.”

“We’ll
take the bus, honey. Terence stops right in the front of the house at eleven
sharp every day.”

“There’s
a bus stop in front of your house?”

“There
is if you’re blind and tip the driver.”

“What
about Oscar and Meyer? Are they allowed on the bus?”

“Meyer
can ride in my purse. And nobody ever tells a blind person they can’t have a
dog on a leash.”

Claire
grabbed her coat on the way out the door. She had to hustle to keep up.

White Knight

“Good
morning, Terrence. This is my friend,” Fred said to the bus driver as she
climbed the bus steps.

“Good
morning, friend,” Terrence said, tipping his hat. Claire thought he looked like
an off-white version of Morgan Freeman.

“Nice
to meet you. I’m Claire.”

“I
am Terrance,” the driver said. “The gallant knight who escorts Fred around this
fair city.”

“Oh,
how you do talk,” Fred said, patting him on the shoulder. “Put Claire on my
tab. Do you charge for the dog?”

“Naw,
not for you, sweet lady,” Terrance said. Oscar sniffed Terrance’s pant leg and
got his head patted in return.

Claire
and Fred took a seat right behind Terrence.

“So
what brings you out today, Claire?” he asked as they pulled away from the curb.

Fred
answered for her, “She needs to reorient her perspective on love and life. I
thought Hans could help.”

Claire
was alarmed. They were going to the cemetery to talk to Fred’s dead husband
about the fuck-ups in her love life?

“Well,
Hans should be able to help with that,” Terence said amiably. “After all, the
man married the city’s best looking woman and kept her for life.”

“Hans
changed Terrance’s life,” Fred said. “Isn’t that right, Terrance?”

“Ah,”
Terence said. “He changed my world. That man may be dead, but he sure knows
what he’s talking about.”

“I’m
lost,” Claire said. “How can I possibly talk to Hans?”

“Oh,
he may be dead as a doornail,” Fred said. “But there’s something about going to
a grave that forces you to look at your own mortality and realize what is
important in life and what’s not.”

Claire
let that soak in. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

*

Fred
had been right. A lot of the graves were neglected. Claire felt guilty for
throwing away perfectly good roses.

“Hello,
Hans,” Fred said, stopping before a headstone. “This is my new friend, Claire.
She’s the one I told you about.”

“Hi,”
Claire said. She felt foolish talking to a headstone. “Nice to meet you. I wish
I could’ve met you while you were still alive.”

This
dialogue seemed to please Fred. “He says it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Claire
smiled. She didn’t know what else to do, so she did nothing. Fred said, “You
can ask Hans anything. He’s a good listener and very non-judgmental. I’ll give
you two some privacy.”

“You’re
leaving?” Claire asked.

“I’ll
be sitting right over there,” Fred said, pointing to a bench under the shade of
a majestic oak tree. “Take as much time as you need.”

Fred
used her cane to tap over to the bench. Claire watched her sit and tilt her
face toward a small patch of dappled sunlight. Oscar and Meyer curled up
together under the bench. Claire turned back to the headstone. “I don’t know
what I’m supposed to say.”

There
was no answer, of course.

“Fred
thinks I’m going to talk to you and somehow my life will be changed for the
better. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. I mean, come on, really? My
life is so screwed up that it defies fixing of any sort. First, I left a woman
I loved who didn’t live up to my idea of what my life partner should be. Then I
found a woman who fit my idea of what my partner should be… the only problem is
that I don’t love her. Pretty screwed up, am I right?”

Claire
shuffled her feet. “You had it easy. You loved a woman and she was perfect for
you.”

Claire
knew that supposition probably wasn’t fair. Marriages take work. At least
that’s what everyone always says. Hans and Fred probably had some hard times.

That’s
when it hit her. Hans was a German name. And Fred had those numbers tattooed on
her wrist. Which meant she was Jewish. And she’d been in a concentration camp.

So
Fred, a Jew in a concentration camp, and Hans, a German, had fallen in love.
And somehow, their love had survived. Against all odds, against the backdrop of
a world war that tried to separate them, their love had survived and flourished
and was still alive!

That
realization made Claire feel very small. Very small indeed. What was a tiny
pool incident next to a holocaust? And if their love could flourish, why
couldn’t hers?

Trembling,
Claire walked over to Fred. “Fred?”

“Yes,
child?”

“I
have to go. I have to find Ollie now.”

Fred
smiled. “Go. Don’t worry about us. I’ll bring Meyer and Oscar home later.”

“You’re
sure you’ll be okay?”

“Of
course I will. Terrance will pick me up in about forty-five minutes. He always
does.”

“Okay,”
Claire said. “I’m going to go now. I’ll meet you back home later.”

“Bye,
darling,” Fred said. “Mazel Tov.”

“Thank
you,” Claire said. She turned and walked toward the cemetery gates.

“I
would run if I were you,” Fred called out.

So
Claire did. She ran.

Just Married

It
only took about three blocks before Claire realized she couldn’t run the whole
way to Sleepy Hollow. She slowed to a walk and tried to catch her breath. She
looked both ways up and down the street but didn’t see any taxis. She didn’t
even see a bus stop. Just as she resigned herself to walking all the way, she
spotted her salvation. A limo was parked outside a church. It had
Just
Married
soaped across its back window, and tin cans strung behind it. The
limo driver was leaning against its hood, smoking a cigarette.

Claire
walked straight up to him and without preamble said, “I’ll give you a hundred
bucks to drive me out to Sleepy Hollow.”

The
driver looked at her, looked at the church door, looked at his watch and threw
his cigarette to the ground. He stomped it out with a twist of his heel and
opened the limo’s door. Bowing from the waist he said, “Your chariot awaits.”

Claire
slipped inside and breathed a giant sigh of relief as the limo pulled away from
the curb.

The Happy Ending

Ollie
snowboarded every day after she clocked out of work. It was one of the perks of
the job. Today, she finished pulling on her boots, grabbed her hat, gloves and
goggles and set off for the hill, her board tucked under her arm. The day was
another crisp, blue-skied beauty and Ollie wished Claire was there to share it
with her. Then she remembered Claire was not talking to her.

Delilah
was operating Lift Two when Ollie approached the chair. “Hey, there, sweet
thing. How’s it hanging?” Delilah said.

“You
do realize I’m old enough to be your mother,” Ollie said. She amazed herself at
how prim and proper she sounded. The girl was obviously flirting with her, why
didn’t she flirt back?

“I
like the Mommy thing. We can play house if you want. I’ll be Daddy,” Delilah
said with a lascivious smile.

A
couple of years ago Ollie would have been so all over that. She and Delilah
would’ve been rolling around in bed all day. But now all Ollie could think about
was Claire. Damn her. Claire was screwing up everything. She’d probably never
be able to have sex again because all she would ever think about would be
Claire.

It
was all Ollie could do to return Delilah’s smile. “Better luck with somebody
else,” Ollie said.

“Ah,
you’re no fun.”

Ollie
hopped on the chair but not before Delilah had a chance to swat her ass. The
chair took off. “Got a pretty firm ass for an old lady,” Delilah said.

Ollie
laughed.

The
Real
Happy Ending

Claire
didn’t know a person could perspire when it was so cold outside. By the time
she got to the Sleepy Hollow rental shop, she was huffing and puffing and sweat
was dripping down her back. She threw open the door and dragged her wet feet
over to the counter. She didn’t see a single soul. “Anybody here?” she called
out.

There
was no answer.

She
looked at her watch. Damn. It was ten minutes after closing time. Ollie was
already gone. That was when she saw the message on the counter in Ollie’s
handwriting. It read, “G-Ray, I closed up shop and went snowboarding. See ya
later! Ollie.”

So
she was snowboarding! She could find Ollie out on the slopes. Do they call them
slopes when snowboarding or is that just for skiing?

Claire
looked down at her soggy feet. There was no way she could go back out in the
snow and cold with wet clothes and wet feet. She looked around the shop. Maybe
she could borrow a snowsuit and boots. She could pay later.

It
took Claire about ten minutes to fully outfit herself and head out in search of
her one true love.