Notoriously Neat (12 page)

Got flowers in the garden? Cut a few and put ’em on the table. No flowers? No garden? Take some fruit out of the fridge and put it in a pretty bowl. No fruit? No fridge? No pretty bowl? Forget this blog and go to some online poker site or somethin’.

As for the rest of us: We got the visiting room ready and the bathroom’s next. Dump those towels and washcloths in the laundry and replace ’em with fresh ones. Swish over mirrors, the sink and faucets, shelves, and—last but never least—the toilet with glass cleaner. The room’s gonna sparkle. The room is gonna smell good. If you’ve got a spare cut flower, stick one in and the room’s gonna look good too.

Suggestion: Don’t put that fruit on display in here. Wouldn’t want yer SO getting any wrong ideas about yer eating habits.

The kitchen run comes last. If ya got a dishwasher, load it up. Or else wash whatever’s in the sink, stack it in the drainer nice ’n’ neat, and you’re cool. If there are edibles in sight, put ’em away pronto. Butter, bread, crackers, sugar, cereal—all that stuff. Then wipe down yer surfaces and shake out yer area rugs.

Now open the freezer. Check it for scones, muffins, rolls, or biscuits—ya might get lucky. Pop whatever ya find in the oven and move to the head of the class. Yer baby doll’s in for a treat and the crib’ll smell like you got a life.

Awright. The joint’s in decent shape, and it’s all cuz ya didn’t lose yer cool. Boyfriend or girlfriend walks thru the door and ya got piping hot scones and coffee ready. Kiss, kiss. Or whatever.

Cut to later. Much later, I hope. BF or GF’s hit the road. Ya survived yer midmess crisis and don’t want it ta happen again. How ta avoid?

Prevention’s the word. Open that big miracle stash basket and put more stuff into the basket, where it belongs. Don’t be a slacker; do it now. And take yer time—it’ll go faster than ya think. When the next “thought I’d stop by” moment comes, ya’ll know who to thank for that basket bein’ empty and ready fer more junk.

CUOL,

Bry

I’ve been rushing around a lot lately—say, for, oh, my whole adult existence. But let’s zone in. With my cleaning gigs, column deadlines, trips to the veterinarian (not fun for me or my cat), and trying to squeeze an actual life somewhere in between, one important constant is coming home to a relaxing, peaceful haven. And an essential component of peace and relaxation is cleanliness. Dirt is chaos. Chaos equals stress. Stress is not our friend.

You don’t have to be Stephen Hawking to realize that every minute we spend hustling through the outside world gives us less time to tidy up the places we live. That puts a premium on saving time when we’re busy. And since most of us are busy all the time, I came up with a quick list of time-
savers
for you. Whew!

1. Load your trash can onto a skateboard and roll it to the curb on collection day. The few minutes it frees up for sipping your tea or coffee can do wonders for starting the morning on a positive note.

2. Take a cue from flight attendants. You’ll never see one make a trip through the aisle without picking up or dropping off something. Make it your policy to never go from room to room empty-handed. Put the water bottle back in the fridge or recycle bin, cups and glasses in the dishwasher, the keys in your purse, hang your jacket . . . You’ll be amazed at the differnce it makes in the long run.

3. Label electric cords with plastic bread tabs.

4. Spritz your degreaser cleaner on a cloth and wipe off remote controls, phones, and faxes, and any other push button accessories. It not only eliminates grime, but is a proven vaccine for sticky-button syndrome.

5. Stop weeding between stepping-stones and gravel paths. Instead, sprinkle them with ordinary table salt. The weeds won’t creep back. I try to go out with the shaker late in the day so the dew will help dissolve the salt.

6. While you’re outside, put some Velcro strips around your patio umbrella. There’ll be no more spinning that big thing to try to find the closing strap camouflaged somewhere in its folds.

7. Wash your dishes by hand? Here’s a quick way to prevent oversoaping. Squirt a little dish soap into a spray bottle and fill with water. Mist items like lasagna pans, cookie sheets, and soup bowls, then let them soak. You won’t waste soap, water, or rinsing time.

8. Your pet cat laying claim to a living room chair can lead to hairy situations for you and your guests. Place a pretty cloth napkin over the seat as a cover. The next time you actually free it up from kitty, just pick up the napkin before anybody sits down and toss it in your laundry bag. The cat naps save you from the constant hassle of fixing up a furry chair for human use.

9. Throw pillows looking flat? Toss them in the dryer with a fabric-softener sheet. They’ll come out fluffy and fresh-smelling. As an added benefit, the dryer’s heat helps eliminate bacteria.

10. Having your kitchen painted but don’t want splatters on your large appliances? Cover them with inexpensive Christmas tree bags. I try to buy all I can after the holiday season when stores are practically giving them away. Their uses are endless. In fact, I could blog on that subject alone if I had the time . . . which I don’t right now!

“There you have it, Sky,” Vaughn Pilsner said, after speaking for five solid minutes. “The truth.”

He drank some of his coffee while Mickey the monkey sat on my lap with his bag of popcorn, pushing three or four kernels into my mouth at a time. I knew it wouldn’t agree with me that early in the morning, though it was Snappy Movie Theater brand, my favorite. But I hadn’t wanted to refuse it and wound Mickey’s feelings. Besides, the popcorn wasn’t nearly as hard to digest as Vaughn’s story. Or what he’d told of it so far.

Bryan, meanwhile, was mostly paying attention to Mickey, who’d been poking his new nostril stud between dips into the microwave bag.

“What’s
his
problem?” Bry said, covering his nose to block Mickey’s finger.

My mind was elsewhere. “He’s staying here till the disabled gentleman he assists—”

“S
eñor
Douglas,” Orlando said from the couch across the room.

“—Mr. Douglas, thanks, gets out of the hospital,” I said, looking at Vaughn. “Isn’t that what you explained?”

He nodded. “Shifting capuchin monkeys between caretakers can lead to behavioral problems. Orlando took a qualification course in Boston. We offered to keep him another couple of days in spite of the tragedy we’ve suffered, and the organization thought it best to accept.”

“That much I get.” Bry was shaking his head. “I meant I wanted to know why he keeps playing with my stud, not what he’s doing here.”

I gave him a vague look.

“It sparkles,” I said. “That probably caught his attention.”

“You got shiny earrings on . . . How come he doesn’t touch
them
?”

I shrugged again, thinking it might’ve been because the earrings weren’t conspicuously shining in the middle of my face. But I kept that to myself. I didn’t want to insult Bry, who was really pretty sensitive. Making yet another occupant of the room whose feelings I had to consider.

Orlando was my main concern, though—and the reason I was so preoccupied. Wearing a black hoodie and jeans, a police tracking bracelet visible around his right ankle, he’d greeted me with a long, squeezy hug after Mickey jumped from his shoulder onto my lap, then thanked me about ten different ways in Spanish for helping him out last night.

I didn’t think I deserved too much credit. All I’d done was interpret for the kid because I happened to be there. It hadn’t kept him from being arrested and charged with murder, and it hadn’t gotten him released from behind bars. Vaughn had done that by meeting a bond the court had set at a million dollars.

“Fifteen years . . . It’s a long time for a wife to keep so great a secret,” he said to me now, lowering his coffee cup to the table. “I hope you can understand my reaction.”

“I’m not sure,” I said, then dropped my voice so Orlando couldn’t hear it. “Tell you the truth, I’m not even sure we ought to be having this conversation right now . . .”

“
Está bien
,” Orlando said in Spanish.
“Eres mi buen amiga.”

I glanced over at him as Mickey fed me more popcorn, thinking it was too bad he hadn’t stuffed my big fat mouth with it a second earlier. It was obvious I hadn’t turned its volume down nearly enough . . . but maybe that was for the best. The kid
had
helped set me at ease.

“Were you ever married, Sky?” Vaughn said.

“Yes,” I said. “Eight years.”

“And if I may ask . . . was it you or your husband who first decided the relationship was failing?”

I paused. Deep breath. I’d found ways to keep the lump in my throat from sticking there too long. It came back whenever I spoke the words, though.

“Paul died,” I said. “Cancer.”

Vaughn looked at me for a moment. “I’m very sorry.”

I nodded silently, still working on the lump.

“I was into my forties when I met Gail,” Vaughn said. “Love caught me by surprise. I’d been contentedly independent my entire life. But I’ve never done things in half steps. I knew that if I proposed to Gail—and she accepted—I’d hold nothing of myself back from her.”

“And you let one mistake change that?”

Vaughn shook his head. “It wasn’t something I
decided
,” he said. “I couldn’t control what was going on inside me. The sense of betrayal.”

“Because she didn’t confide she’d had a child out of wedlock before you met her.”

“No,” Vaughn said. “Because she didn’t trust me enough to confide it.”

I considered that. “But wasn’t this years before you met? You told me she was only eighteen when she became pregnant.”

“A foreign exchange student in Mexico, yes,” he said. “Orlando’s father was also attending the university there. From the Dominican Republic. Their affair wasn’t serious.” He sipped his coffee again. “The paternal grandparents had limited resources, but were willing to raise the child as their own. They offered a good home and a chance for Gail and the father to continue their studies. Gail’s parents on the other hand . . .” He trailed off with a quick glance at Orlando. “They urged her to terminate the situation.”

I hesitated. Despite Orlando’s reassurances, it was awkward talking that openly in front of him. I didn’t think it was that obvious, but he must have noticed from across the room.

“
Señorita
Sky,” he said with a gentle smile.
“Mi mamá no se avergüenza de mi. Me amó.”

I turned to look at him, the lump back in my throat. This time I wasn’t thinking about Paul. Orlando had told me that his mother wasn’t ashamed of him. That she loved him.

Vaughn was nodding quietly and I realized he’d understood his Spanish as well as I did. “Gail never regretted her decision to have the baby,” he said. “The guilt she felt was over giving him up. Even knowing it was best for everyone involved.”

“Is that why she kept all this from you?”

“Her reasons were complicated. My family had some local status, while Gail came from a modest background. She once confessed it intimidated her at the start. That she was afraid I’d consider someone who’d given up a child disreputable.”

“And what about later?”

“I think keeping Orlando secret from me weighed on her. I truly believe one source of guilt compounded the other until it became too much for her to bear.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Then Mickey fed me some more popcorn and pressed my lips shut, forcing me to chew and providing an excuse for my long silence. Finally I had to swallow or have it turn to paste in my mouth.

“I still don’t see why you couldn’t work things out with her,” I said. “If you loved Gail . . .”

“It goes back to what I told you before. About how I’d steered clear of romantic entanglements my whole life. And how I fully commit to a course once I do choose to take it.”

I was as much at a loss as ever. Vaughn must have read that uncertainty on my face.

“I’ve always been a contained person,” he went on. “The idea of bonding every part of myself to a woman was difficult for me. But when I fell in love with Gail, I didn’t just break through my defensive shell. I cast away its pieces. Willfully, wholeheartedly discarded them.”

I let that sink in awhile. I was no expert in human nature. But the elusive part wasn’t understanding Vaughn’s independence and wounded pride. It was trying to grasp how he could have loved Gail as much as he insisted and still be unable to forgive her. I felt as if I’d somehow missed something.

“It’s probably none of my business, but what made Gail open up to you about her past?”

Vaughn was thoughtful, fixing his eyes on mine. “Two years ago, Orlando’s grandfather became ill and died. It left his grandmother in desperate financial straits. She could no longer support him. Meanwhile the father had moved on. A wife, a family . . . I don’t know much about him.” He gave me a meaningful look. “You understand these situations.”

I nodded in the affirmative. Orlando had been unwanted by his own father. Vaughn couldn’t have said it outright without hurting the kid.

“When she realized it was time for him to come to the States, Gail finally told me about her son,” he went on. “I won’t pretend that I reacted well. Not at first. But I can’t stress enough that it wasn’t Orlando. It was that she’d never told me about him.”

“Did you offer to help bring him over here?”

“
Dijo que él pagaría por todo
,” Orlando said before he could reply.
“Para vivir con ustedes.”

I looked around at him just as Mickey prepared to shove more micropop into my mouth. Though he tried to nudge my chin back in his direction with his other paw, I didn’t give in. Chittering dejectedly, he treated himself to the popcorn with loud, emphatic smacks of his lips. Showed
me
what I’d lost out on.