Hand-Me-Down Love (8 page)

“
That’s a
good idea,” she said. “I know they’ll be happy to see you.”

Sean left three
days before Christmas, early in the morning. Marla got up as he was
packing his suitcase. She got him a cup of coffee, which he drank
while he got ready. And then he was out the door, gone for a week.
Marla couldn’t believe how much she was going to miss him.

Marla kept the
shop open for one more day after Sean left, then she closed it until
after New Year’s. It was the only time of the year that she closed
the shop. Normally, she relished the time off. This year she felt sad
because of Meredith and lonely because Sean was gone. Sean had texted
her as soon as he made it to Atlanta. “I’m here,” he texted. It
was the first of many texts he sent her while he was gone. He texted
her several times a day, and on Christmas Day, a big Merry Christmas!
Marla went to her parents on Christmas and spent the whole day with
them. She kept her phone in her jacket pocket listening for the sound
that let her know a text had come in.

“
Is that your
phone?” Cynthia asked her once when Marla’s phone made the text
signal.

“
Yes,”
Marla said. “I forgot to turn it off.” She didn’t want to turn
it off, but she did so her mother wouldn’t ask questions.

It was a sad
day. Her mother had managed to put up a tree but she only strung the
lights and left it undecorated. “When I opened the box with the
ornaments in it, I just couldn’t put them up,” she told Marla.
“There were all these ornaments you and Merrie made when you were
little. I just couldn’t put them up this year.”

“
It’s okay,
Mom,” Marla said, touching her mother’s arm. “This is a hard
year.”

Marla stayed at
her parents until almost nine that evening, before going back home to
her apartment. Sean had texted her several times during the day, but
she hadn’t checked her phone. After she fed Lucy and put on her
gown for bed, she read through the texts. Mostly, they said “Are
you there?” and “Hope you’re having a good day,“ and finally,
Catch you later.” She texted Sean back. “I’m here, back home.
Been at my parents all day and turned phone off.”

A few minutes
later, Sean texted back. “I was wondering where you went,” he
wrote. And then before she could respond, he wrote, “I’m coming
back tomorrow. I’ve been gone long enough.” Marla was elated when
she read that text. Elated. “I look forward to seeing you,” she
texted back. Was that too much? To say she looked forward to seeing
him? She didn’t understand the feelings she was having about Sean.
Sean didn’t text back right away and she thought her text was too
much after all. But a few minutes later—an eternity—he texted,
“Me too.” Relief flooded through her. “Be careful on the
drive,” she texted. “K,” he texted back. Marla put her phone on
the bedside table and pulled the covers up to her neck. She turned
out the light and a few minutes later, she was asleep.

The next
morning, Marla woke up early. After a cup of coffee, she started to
clean the apartment from top to bottom. She washed all the dishes,
scrubbed the counters, and mopped the floors. She straightened the
living room and stripped the beds in her room and Sean’s and took
all of the towels out of the bathroom. While they were washing and
drying, she swept the floors and dusted. Sean texted around eleven
saying he was about to get on the road. Marla estimated it would take
him about six hours.

She dressed in
jeans and a sweatshirt and drove to the grocery store. Tables of
Christmas decorations and candy were set up in front of the store,
everything seventy-five percent off. She bypassed the tables and went
to the vegetable section where she bought leaf lettuce, Bartlett
pears, three lemons, and fresh broccoli. She pushed her shopping
cart along the refrigerated part and got a package of goat cheese.
Turkeys were half off in the meat section, but she was there for the
chicken. She chose a five-pound roaster. On the way back through the
store, she got a package of basmati rice and two bottles of
chardonnay. Marla was going to cook for the first time in a long
time. Sean was coming home and she wanted to celebrate.

After she put
the groceries up, Marla got a glass of wine and put it in the
bathroom on a blue wooden stool beside the tub. She took a shower and
washed her blond hair, then filled the tub with water and bath salts.
She lay in the tub for a while. Sean texted her once while she was
there, saying he was about two hours away. The tub was so relaxing
that Marla had a hard time getting out of it. But she finally did,
drying herself with the freshly laundered towels. She put on her
terry cloth robe and dried her shoulder length hair. It was the same
color as Meredith’s hair. In fact, she and Meredith had looked a
lot alike, enough so that people definitely knew they were sisters.
But Meredith’s eyes had been blue and Marla’s eyes were hazel,
almost golden colored.

Marla was not
unaware that she was preparing as if she were going on a date. She
tried to push her feelings away, but they kept coming back. She
reasoned with herself. Sean was her brother-in-law and she was
looking after him like Meredith asked. Right? She just missed him,
that was all. She had gotten used to him being around. It was a habit
thing. Marla was confused, but she was so excited at the thought of
seeing Sean again that she allowed her excitement to take over. And
hadn’t he texted that he was looking forward to seeing her, too?

Marla dressed
in a long brown skirt and fitted pink cashmere sweater with pearl
buttons down the front. She would have to be careful not to get any
food on her clothes as she cooked their dinner. Come to think of it,
she did have a vintage apron in the large kitchen drawer. She had
never used it, but today she would. She walked into the kitchen and
pulled the green apron from the drawer. She put the loop over her
head and tied the sash behind her. She was ready to go, like any good
housewife from the fifties.

Sean would
probably be back any minute. Marla got the chicken out of the
refrigerator and washed it, then dried it thoroughly with paper
towels, inside and out. She placed it in the chicken roaster she had
inherited from her grandmother. Well, inherited was too strong a
word. When her grandmother died a few years back, Marla and Meredith
and her mother cleaned out her house. No one else wanted the blue
speckled chicken roaster, so Marla took it. Turned out, she used it
frequently for chicken and roast and anything else she wanted to
bake.

She cut a lemon
in half and squeezed the juice on the chicken before shaking salt and
pepper all over it, even the bottom. She placed the domed top on the
roaster. As she was washing her hands, she heard footsteps coming up
the stairs. She grabbed a kitchen towel. Sean opened the door and
said, “Honey, I’m home.” He laughed and so did she. She felt
like Mary Tyler Moore and he was Dick Van Dyke.

Marla noticed
that Sean’s hair had grown longer. She knew it must have been
getting longer every day he had been living there, but now that he
had been gone, she really saw it. He hadn’t shaved since he left
and he had a four-day stubble that was not unattractive. Marla wanted
to give him a hug, but instead she said, “I’m making supper for
us tonight.”

“
Really?”
Sean said with a note of surprise.

“
I do know
how to cook, believe it or not,” she said.

“
Oh, I
believe it. Anybody wearing an apron like that better know how to
cook.”

“
I know,
right?” she said laughing.

She took a sip
of wine and suddenly felt shy. “Would you like a drink after your
long drive?” she asked.

“
I most
certainly would,” he said. “But I’d like to take a shower
first. Get the road grime off.” He picked up his dark blue duffel
bag and walked out of the kitchen. A few minutes later, Marla heard
the shower.

She set the
oven at 375 and put the broccoli in the colander to rinse and drain.
She shook the colander to get rid of most of the water before
trimming and slicing the broccoli into long stems. It would take an
hour and a half or so to roast the chicken, but she wanted everything
as ready as possible ahead of time. Damn. She should have gotten some
kind of rolls, she realized. Oh, well. It would be okay.

About thirty
minutes later, Sean walked back into the kitchen along with the scent
of his aftershave. His stubble was gone and he was smooth shaven once
again. That was good too, Marla thought appreciatively. What was she
thinking? She had to stop this.

“
What would
you like to drink?” Marla asked. “I got some wine.” She held up
her glass.

“
I think I’ll
make a whisky sour,” he said as he headed to the living room where
she kept the hard liquor in a bar from the forties. When you opened
the doors to the bar, it was complete with tumblers and shot glasses
and Bakelite picks for olives and onions. It was from an estate sale
in Mobile, and Marla had kept it for herself.

When Sean came
back to the kitchen, Marla said, “I’ve got the chicken in the
oven and everything’s ready to go when it’s time. Do you wanna
sit on the balcony for a few minutes, or is it too cold?”

“
It’s
really not bad out,” he said. “I think it’s in the sixties
right now. Let me grab a jacket.” When he came back he had on a
brown jacket and held her jacket out to her. The balcony was a small
space off of the living room and was surrounded with a wrought iron
railing, like something you would see in New Orleans. Marla put her
houseplants out there in the spring and summer and much of the fall
before it got too cold. They settled in the white wicker chairs that
had come with the place and set their drinks on a wicker glass-topped
table in between.

“
That traffic
in Atlanta is incredible,” Sean said as he took a sip of his drink.
“I know I grew up there so I should be used to it, but I think it’s
gotten even worse.”

“
I haven’t
been to Atlanta in years,” Marla said. In fact, the last time she
had been to Atlanta was nearly six years earlier when she and
Meredith had gone on a wedding dress hunt. Meredith had not been able
to find the “right” dress in Mobile. The sisters scoured the
wedding shops in Atlanta for two days. Meredith tried on dress after
dress. “This isn’t it, either,” she would say with a disgusting
tone. “I think you’re turning into bridezilla,” Marla told her.
She remembered the look Meredith had given her when she said that.
And then Meredith laughed. And Marla laughed, and they couldn’t
stop laughing. The saleslady came over and asked if everything was
all right. They laughed even harder. When the trip was over, Meredith
still didn’t have a dress, but she eventually found one in Mobile
that she said was perfect. It was the last trip Marla and Meredith
had taken together.

The memory of
that trip made her feel sad and teary. She didn’t mention any of it
to Sean and tried to pull herself together. She took a sip of wine.
They sat silently for a few minutes and Marla had no idea what was
going through Sean’s mind.

“
There’s
the big dipper,” he said. Marla peered up at the nighttime sky.
“And the little dipper right above it to the right.” And there
they were.

“
I’d better
check on that chicken,” Marla said getting up. “You want
anything?”

“
I’m okay,”
Sean said. “Do you mind if I sit out here for a few more minutes?”

“
Of course
not,” she said.

The chicken had
about thirty minutes to go, so it was time to start the broccoli and
rice and make the salad. Marla set the stove on high and put a pan of
water on to boil for the rice. She put a larger pot with a couple of
inches of water in it to boil for the broccoli. While the two pots
were heating up, she peeled the pear and sliced it into thin
crescents, which she placed on top of leaf lettuce in white bowls.
Slices of goat cheese finished the salad off. Then Marla realized she
hadn’t made the dressing. Dammit, she thought. I’m not very
organized tonight. The water boiled in the rice pot and she poured
the basmati in, stirring it around, then put the lid back on and
turned the stove down.

While she was
waiting on the bigger pot to boil, she grabbed her blue mixing bowl
and squeezed in the juice of another lemon. Thankfully, there was
enough olive oil, which Marla drizzled into the lemon juice while
whisking furiously. By that time the water in the big pot was
boiling, and she threw the broccoli in. It was going to be a miracle
if everything came together at the right time, she thought. How did
those fifties housewives do it?

As she was placing
the salads on the table, Sean came back in.

“
It’ll be ready
in just a minute,” Marla said, looking up at him.

“
It smells great,”
he said. “What can I do to help?”

“
Well, you could
pour us some wine. I think everything else is ready.”