When It Rains: The Umbrella Collection (2 page)

“Molly isn’t exactly ‘hot’…,”

Pops interrupted me, “Here we go again. Let’s hear it. She’s ugly. She looks like a mouse. She’s annoying. Come on, let’s hear,” he stated as he led the way to the bathroom in the hall by the kitchen.

“All I am saying is that, in my opinion, she isn’t the best out of the bunch.”

Pops is a ladies’ man, always has been. There is always a different girl on his arm for every family occasion. He has a date five out of the seven days in a week. I have no clue how he keeps up with them all.  They all know about each other and they all keep coming back. Things can get a little catty between them and I have heard arguments occurring on the front porch between two women when he gets the days mixed up and they both showed up to ring the doorbell. That has happened a few times, old age memory I’m guessing. He is old, his
80th birthday is coming up and the man has kept his looks. He is slender for his elevated height of 6’2. His brown eyes twinkle when he smiles widely, but that rarely happens. An “I don’t give a shit” look is permanently fixed on his face most of the time and with that you are lucky if you get his smirk, a smirk that slants to the left side of his face and barely shows his pearly whites. He still has a full head of thick hair, too.

I have
lived with him for the past thirteen years, one of which was with my parents. We moved in here with Pops when my dad, Davey, got laid off from a factory that he worked at with Pops and my uncle Mike. But, a year after we made the move they died in a car accident on their way home from Giovanni’s, a restaurant a few blocks away. So, now it’s Pops and I alone in this big old house. Well, we aren’t exactly alone all the time. His sons, my uncles, come by constantly. I’m surrounded by testosterone here; my Uncle Mike has three sons, Drew, Elijah and Brody, who are all the same age and not triplets, my Uncle Brian has one son Colin, my Uncle Alex also has a son, Evan and then there is Uncle John who doesn’t have any kids, which is surprising since he gets around just as much as Pops and Mike. He is only 4 years and 9 months older than me.  Growing up with a bunch of men has definitely changed me since my mom died. The biggest being my mouth. They like to be crude and curse up a storm and sadly it has become one of my biggest flaws.  I try to hold my tongue, but sometimes it gets away from me.

“Come on.
  She isn’t that bad.  She’s a nice lady.”             

“Oh, yeah she is just wonderful,” I said in a lovely tone while my eyes rolled.
 

“What is it you don’t like?”

“She’s a stalker, Pops!”

“No, she isn’t,” he said dumbfounded.

“Hello?  Open your eyes, Man!  She calls here constantly, shows up here all the time, uninvited I must add, she happens to be at almost every place you go.  I’m surprised you haven’t tripped over her, yet,” I said as I flipped the switch on the razor.

“What if I like that?” he yelled over the buzzing.

“Then, you are as insane as she is.”

Pops began to laugh until I gave him a playful smack to the top of his head to eliminate the possibility of a
mistake.  Too late, though because his hairline wasn’t so much of a straight line anymore.  I tried not to show it, but he caught my face, a face with big blue eyes that can’t hide anything, in the mirror.

“What? What did you do?” he asked as
he reached his hand to the back of his head.

“No big deal.  I’ll fix it,” I quickly stated with my eyes bulging out, even though I have no clue how I would unless I glued the hair back on. 

“Nora.
”

“Relax. Relax,” I said as I patted him on his shoulder.

As Pops relaxed more in his chair, I got to work on his hair.  “So, what are you doing tonight?” Pops asked.

“I don’t know. Skylar might come over,” I replied with a shrug of my shoulders.
  Skylar didn’t know about that, yet.  I haven’t spoken to her all day.  When I’m finish up here I’ll give her a ring and I know she would come over once I tell her the way I have felt.

“Sounds fun.
  Speaking of fun, um, Molly is going to be here any minute, so can you hurry up?”

“You can’t rush perfection,” I said and took the attachment to the razor off and grabbed a larger one to replace it.
  I began to shave and blend the hair in the back, but with my first movement I realized, since his scalp and tiny hairs were staring at me, that I grabbed a smaller one instead. “Uh oh,” I cried as I slowly backed away from another mishap.

 
“
What? What happened?” he questioned as he stood up closer to the mirror, trying to maneuver his head to view his bald spot in the back of his head.

“Um, do you know that sweet haircut that Marines have...Do you like it?” I slowly asked with a twisted face, scared, but already knowing, his answer.

“Eleanora May Boutilier.  What the hell is wrong with you?”

The thing with Pops
is that he isn’t an angry man.  He being mad typically lasts for 30 seconds and it’s gone.  That was evident when he looked at my face which already had a half smirk upon it and burst out laughing.   I reached for the little mirror to hold it in front of him while he had his back towards the big mirror and he got his first glance at his almost naked spot. 

We were in hysterics until he sat back down on the chair and asked, “So, how are we going to fix this?”

“Eh, just shave it.” 

Pops’
 head turned very slowly towards me and there was a slight look of impatience that appeared on his face and then it was gone.  “That’s the only option we have, so shave it,” he said and my mouth molded itself into a smile.  Finally, I got what I wanted.  I happily switched the clippers on and began to cut the rest of his locks. 

After a few minutes, he was bald, well, not completely.
  He had, maybe, an eighth of an inch of his gray hair remaining.  As he looked in the mirror, I did notice a bit of a dip in the middle of the top of his head.  I refrained from saying anything purely for the fact I didn’t want to feel the wrath of his 30 second evil stare again.

The doorbell rang, “Oh goodie, Molly is here.
  She was probably looking through the window watching us, waiting until we were done,” I mumbled under my breath.

Pops took off the towel that shielded his clothing and began wiping off the back of his neck, as I walked down the
hall to open the front door to greet his guest.

“Eleanora, h
ello, sweetie.  How are you?  Where is your Grandfather?” she said.

She didn’t give me
a chance to respond or invite her in.  That didn’t stop her because she was already half way up the steps going towards his room.  She was wearing a dress whose color almost matched the pukey colored paint on the dresser. She’s a mousy looking older lady with shoulder length gray wavy hair that is never out of place, big ears, a pointy face, skinny, but a huge head.  Seriously, she looks like a bobble-headed mouse.  I’m not the biggest fan of hers, but I believe the feeling is mutual. Pops appeared beside me at the front door all ready to go and looking for Molly with a quizzical look on his face.  When he looked at me about to ask where she is, I just shrugged my shoulders and pointed upward.

“James?
  James? Where are you, honey?” Molly rang out while she walked throughout the upstairs of the house. 

She walked back to the landing and
without looking down reached for the doorknob that was nearest the steps, “Excuse me, that’s my room.” I yelled.

“Molly, I’m by the door,”
 Pops said as he looked at me. “Don’t start,” he uttered when he saw I was about to say something about Molly.

We heard her, more so the clanking of her heels on the hardwood stairs, make her way back towards where we were standing.
 

“Oh, there you…,” and then she spied his new do, “OH MY GOD!
  What did you do to your hair?”

“We had a little mishap while cutting my hair,” he replied as he elbowed me in the shoulder.

“Hey, it wasn’t all my fault.  I told him he can’t rush perfection and he did.”

Molly gave me a smug look.
  I swear this lady has an underlying hatred towards me.  “Well next time, I’ll just do it for you,” she said.  She came up to Pops and kissed him on the cheek then fixed the collar of his shirt.

“Um, no.
  I’ve done it since I was 10, so I’ll continue to do it, thank you.”

A snotty look, yet again, exuded from her face, “Well, we will see, I guess.”

Pops saw my face fill with anger.  My eyes bugged out and my mouth dropped open to begin to say my retort, but he beat me to the punch.

“I think Nora has it covered, Mol.
  You ready to go?”

“Oh, yes, Darling.
  Let’s go,” she responded and Pops gave me a wink as they made their way out the door.

“You guys have a good one,” I said as I closed the door behind them and mumbled, “Hopefully, he will make it back in one piece.”

I went back up the stairs.  I threw off my hoodie and slippers to jump back into bed. I landed in almost the exact spot and position that I was in before Pops interrupted.  My mind was erased of everything that had just happened, me screwing up Pops hair and Molly being Molly.  Much like my place in bed, my thought process was back to where it was.  Engulfed in wonderment of why I’m alive and well and the hideous orange puke paint that reminded me of Molly’s dress.

2

Kitchen Counter

   
After hearing my text message alert sound go off for the hundredth time, I got out of bed to check it out.  It had gone off for the past two hours while I was lying across my bed without the want to move and with the need to escape everything.  The messages were from Skylar, along with a few missed calls from her.  I didn’t even bother reading them all I just called her.

“Well, it’s about time,
” she said when she answered.

“Haha, sorry I had the ringer off,” I lied so she wouldn’t know I was just sprawled out in my bed unable to move.

“Liar,” she said.  She can always read me and know when I was lying.  I don’t even know why I bother to try to hide things, “I was just about to come over there to see what was up.”

“I was just
lying down.  Thinking.”

“About?”

“Same old bullshit, you know.”

“One of those days, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m grabbing a pizza and a movie and heading over, so freshen up.
  The last time this happened it looked like you didn’t shower for a week.”

“Haha, that it did.
  I’ll do my best. Bye,” I said as I hung up and undressed to jump in the shower.  I took a peek in the mirror and she was right.  Even though, I had showered yesterday, it did look like it had been a few days.  I don’t know how a mind does it.  The moment your thoughts become morose it affects everything else.  The end corners of my mouth were hanging close to my chin, my back was hunched over, my shoulders tensed up to my ears.  My clothes didn’t match and were wrinkled.  My makeup was no longer in the places that I remember I putting it.  I hopped in the shower quickly to make sure I was out before Skylar came over. 

Skylar and
I‘s friendship is a diamond in the rough, where it is never questioned whether we will be friends tomorrow or 50 years down the road.  We just are going to be and that’s that. She has seen and heard me at my worst, when my mind is clouded by my death and it happens a lot.  I’m hard to be around, so knowing you have a permanent friend around is comforting.

I was getting dressed when I heard her yell up the stairs, “Hey, I’m here.”

“Alright.  I’ll be right down,” I shouted as I pulled a t-shirt over my head.  Then I grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants that I had thrown over one of the French doors to my closet instead of putting them away in my dresser.  I hurriedly pulled them on along with socks and slippers.  I threw my wet hair up in a ponytail and ran downstairs after a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Even though, it wasn’t much, I looked a lot better than before.

“Hey, how are you?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen where she was already getting the plates and glasses ready.
 

“Good.
  The question is though, how are you?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.
  I felt like shit inside, but it happens so often I am over talking about it and I’m sure people were over hearing about it. My face must have given off a hint to my thinking because Skylar looked at me and asked, “Do you want to talk about it or try to forget it this time?

“Forget,”
 I said with urgency wanting to talk about anything else.   We each grabbed a slice and instead of sitting at the dining room table we both simultaneously hopped onto the kitchen counter to munch on the pizza and talk.  This was the norm for us.  This is where we did most of our talking and catching up.