The Special One. James Griffin
Cathleen did make the tea, at least this time, as Rhetta made two tuna sandwiches with low calorie mayonnaise and a few small slabs of “bread and butter” pickles on the side. The small radio on the counter was on, playing a local AM station’s Saturday call-in show. Today’s topic was a referendum on a new radio transmission system for the police station and a new fire truck. The women ate without speaking.
Rhetta seemed surprised when her sister finished her entire lunch, pickles and all, while her own wasn’t even half gone. Then again, she wasn’t. Cathleen placed her dish in the sink and strolled off toward the staircase with her mug of tea in her hand, not even having to say where she was going, for each day’s lunch was followed by a short nap for her.
Now Rhetta was forced to be alone with her thoughts, not even hearing the radio over her left shoulder as she daydreamed. The tea, especially toward the end of the cup, was always so good as the honey gained in concentration there, but today it was all so mechanical for the elder sister; she didn’t taste a thing.
Switching gears now, she rinsed each plate off and put them in the drain rack, making mental checks on what she’d have to remember at the store. The skinless chicken breasts, yes… Cath likes those with breadcrumbs. And the scrod’s on sale. And so is the pot roast this week; the weather is sure pot roast cool now… and Breyer’s ice cream is 20% off…
Without even turning off the radio, which was now playing a commercial for a local tire company’s “get ready for winter” special, Rhetta slipped her arm between the straps of her pocketbook and let the kitchen door close by itself behind her. It had started to drizzle slightly, and the air carried with it the scent of snow as well as the sounds of what surely must have been a touchdown. With the engine now running, she took out the Kleenex she had used earlier from her coat pocket and wiped off the rain droplets from her glasses before proceeding to the Grand Union.
Rhetta was off somewhere, but not consciously daydreaming about any particular thing. But she was really just going through the motions. Sitting at the red light at Hill Street and Decker Avenue, she quickly opened the buckle of her purse to make sure she had enough cash on hand. When she looked up, the light had already turned green, so she quickly looked with embarrassment into her rear-view mirror, then calmed herself, for there was no one behind her. She smiled, remembering all the times people had to beep to make her realize the light had changed. This time she was lucky.
As she stepped lightly on the gas pedal, something caught her eye coming from the left, from Decker Ave. She turned her head to see a mini van coming directly at her, without even slowing down. She saw the woman who was driving, a blonde haired thirty something year old who had just started turning forward after having been looking into her back seat at something. The young woman’s eyes opened wide as Rhetta had time to say one word, “Oh!” and a sound like a million glasses being dropped at once ensued. In that split second’s time, Rhetta felt a sharp pain in her neck and the side of her face where her cheekbone smashed into her driver’s side window.
2
Her eyes were closed, yet she could still see the colors; no, she could feel the colors as they shone down on her face. Mike had slid part way off her body to allow her to breathe easier as he fell asleep, his wet face breathing heavily into her left ear. The late afternoon sun was streaming in through the stained glass windows on the west side of the turret room, or the attic, in Mike’s mom’s house.
She could smell the mustiness of the exposed timbers, even the hardened droplets of sap that had hung from those rough sawn rafters for over 150 years. She could smell the dust, the mites, even the distant scent of moth balls coming from a corner closet of old coats and gowns. And she could smell the skin of the young naked man lying on top of her, spent, and his hair oil. She imagined she could even smell the warm daylight, as it cast its deep oranges and light greens of the glass on her 22 year old face.
Opening her eyes slightly, in a dreamy state of clouded vision she chose to hold, Rhetta stared at the window, at the lily at the center of the top sash. As the sun made its way across that hour, it lined up perfectly behind that lily, emboldening it to Easter-like proportions. The sweat on her breasts was starting to feel chilly, but the light moved across her upper body just at the right time, warming her like a blanket.
It was just a stored mattress and box spring set they had been using for the past few months, with a thin blanket thrown across and one bare pillow with no pillowcase. The mattress used to be Mike’s parents’, but now they had twin beds. It was quite stained.
Rhetta felt Mike stir inside her, for there he had remained as he passed out. He kissed her at the nape of her neck as he awoke, growing again as he moved slowly in his rhythm, that rhythm he claimed he couldn’t help whenever they even just stood next to one another and kissed. He whispered her real name, the one she said she hated, but loved when only he used it. “Lorhetta… Lorhetta… Are you in there? Has anyone seen Lorhetta? I need to find her so, so badly…”
She couldn’t help but give it up and smiled, then broke out in a laugh, which tightened her muscles so much he almost came right out of her. “Hey! Stop laughing! This is serious business I’m taking care of here!”
With that, she totally lost it, as did he, as they rolled across the old mattress giggling, clutching at each other. He wound up on top of her, a droplet of sweat from his forehead dripping down right into her right eye. “Ow! That stings!”
She rolled him over now, straddling him, holding his hands down next to his head. He feigned the role of captive as she leaned forward, brushing his face lightly with her breasts. As Mike tried to catch one in his mouth, Rhetta’d pull away, teasing him.
Finally, she sat back, “holding” him down with one hand on his chest as she reached underneath herself, finding him, readying him, then putting him back inside her body. She was now in control, and he smiled.
As she slowly moved up and down, she smiled at him. He always smiled at her, even while alone thinking about her. They were in love. And they thought it would last forever.
She leaned down closer, but they didn’t lose sight of each other’s eyes. Gaining in intensity now, their smiles grew to gritted teeth as the tempo increased. They never said so aloud, but each enjoyed the other’s eyes at this moment the best of all, especially in those final seconds when she thought he’d just about start to weep in the pleasure of it. And afterward, she watched the life drain out of him, as he took on the look of a sleeping boy, soaked in sweat, she the boy’s loving mother.
How she loved to watch him sleep.
3
“Paging Dr. Wheeler… Dr. Wheeler, please call Respiratory, stat!”
Rhetta listened with closed eyes to the sound of “The Price Is Right,” as Bob Barker was spinning that wheel… the tick, tick, tick of the flipper hitting the pegs as it went around twice, then the audience calling out, in unison, “Awww….” She could almost see it, but couldn’t. Her eyes wouldn’t open.
Then the sound of blinds being drawn, the sunlight suddenly falling across her face.
“Good mornin’, Miss Rhetta. Fine mornin’, too. Jess me, Rosie. Straightenin’ up ‘roun’ here. Ah, them’s nice roses you’ve been given…make the whole room smell so fresh an’ bright.”
“You’ve got yersef a private room now, Miss Rhetta. I hope you don’ mine me callin’ you Miss Rhetta. Just I heard your sister sayin’ that name lass night when she’s heah. She was heah with her son Billy an’the crew, his wife, Joanna an them twins. Them boys was darned cute in their matchin’Bruins jackets, I’d hafta say. They’s the ones brought them roses. Ah’ll check see they’s watered proper.”
“Oh, Miss Rhetta, I heah Father comin’. An I knows he’s comin’ to see you. He always comes here first, like you is his favorite customah, some how.”
Large footsteps enter the room…
“Why, good morning to you, Rosie! How’s the brightest light in all of Brookline Hospital?”