Stacy Matthews - Dear Mary 01 - Think Twice Before You Order (4 page)

Can’t sleep

Dear Mary,

I know Charlie said he doesn’t think there is anything to worry about,
and I’m not terribly worried, more curious than anything. I want to meet
Grandpa’s girlfriend. I know they are married, but right now it’s easier for me
to think of her as a girlfriend. I’ll work my way up to wife, but that one is
going to take a little time.

I went through all the paperwork on the desk to make sure I hadn’t missed
anything that might indicate where they had gone. I had not. As I was going
from the kitchen to the computer room, I noticed that nothing in the house had
really changed. The furniture was the same, knickknacks and what not. From what
I can remember everything is like it was when Grandma was alive. I think that
is odd don’t you? Wouldn’t you think if Tatiana is Grandpa’s girlfriend and she
had been living here she would have put her touch on the house, or at the least
put some of her own things out?

I know I should be trying to rest, but to be honest the only bedroom I
had ever liked was the room Grandma made for me. I don’t know if Grandpa was
trying to be hip, or just trying to impress his girlfriend, but my room had
been made into the computer room. I’m going with “trying to impress his
girlfriend”. If Grandpa’s anything like dad, which he seems to be, his idea of
redecorating a room before Tatiana came into the picture would be to move
around the furniture that was already there.

Now my mother on the other hand was a master at it. Oh sure she acted
like she was upset when I left for college, but I think she was a little happy
to have her house all to herself. I think Mom may have waited an hour after I
left and then made my room into a sewing room. She hated to sew but said she
had always wanted a sewing room. What kind of sense does that make? Then it
became her workout room. She didn’t work out either. I am seeing a pattern
here, how about you? She did love to decorate and of course every time she
changed the room she got to re-decorate. She would get new paint, drapes and
new carpet. Dad said he was happy it was just one room and not the entire
house, so he didn’t care how many times she changed it.

I decided to get on the computer and see if I could find anything on mail
order brides. I went to Google, typed in “mail order bride” and could not
believe how many sites came up. I found one article that was very intriguing.
It said the country where most of the modern day mail order brides come from is
Russia. There has been a revival of the practice since the collapse of the
Soviet Union; a lot of the women there are looking for husbands in the United
States. Since jobs in Russia are hard to find, especially for women, they look
at it as their way out.

Basically it said that both the bride and groom are taking risks in
getting married this way. The women hope the men they end up with aren’t going
to abuse them physically or mentally. The men are hoping once they have paid
for everything, there is not a family emergency and the bride goes back home
with whatever money is in the account and never returns. The grooms also have
to keep in mind the brides are not citizens of this country until they have
been married for two years, so there is the chance the bride may take off after
the two-year mark.

The actual process is very easy. There are a number of agencies that men
can sign up with to meet these women through e-mail. Most of the agencies
charge one hundred to two hundred dollars a year for the membership fee. Most
of the men belong to several of the agencies to increase the chance of finding
Mrs. Right. If they find a woman they like, they can set up a tour with the
agency and actually go over to the country and meet the woman in person, or pay
all the expenses and have the woman meet them here. If all goes well they can
get married there, or they can get married here.

    
It is quite amazing how many men from this country find their wives this way.
They aren’t just old men. The article said most of them are in the age bracket
of thirty-seven to forty-five. It is just amazing to me that this sort of thing
is still going on. If I hadn’t read it I would not have believed it.

Later

June 8
^th

Dear
Mary,
   Charlie
called at eight and said there
were still a few things he and Mark were looking into and it was going to take
most of the day. He figured they wouldn’t get into town until late tonight so
he would see me in the morning. That cancelled everything I had planned for
today, so I got on the computer and checked my work e-mail. I
know
I’m on leave and shouldn’t be worried about any of that
stuff, but there were a couple of things I wanted to check on. Everything
seemed fine. In fact they seem to be getting along just great without me. I’m
not sure how I feel about that. Part of me is ok with it, and the other part
would like to think they could not live without me.

I surfed the web a little more and then thought since it was
such a beautiful day I needed to get out and take a walk, besides the exercise
would do me good. As I was walking down the street, I saw Mrs. Bartley planting
some flowers around the tree in her front yard. I went over and said hi, and I
swear she jumped about three feet off the ground. Once she got over the initial
shock she gave me a hug. She said, “Sid I had no idea you were in town. Your
grandpa didn’t say anything about you coming to visit.”  I didn’t want to
worry her, so I said I was going to surprise Grandpa by dropping in, but the
surprise was on me seeing as how he was not home. Maybe it’s just me, but she
doesn’t seem to have aged since I was a kid. She’s a little plumper than when I
saw her last year. That is pretty good for a woman her age.

Mrs. Bartley has always worn her hair up in a bun. It’s a
pretty white and dark grey, I have no idea how long it really is. She is
usually dressed in a nice pair of slacks, shirt and tennis shoes. Unless she is
planting flowers or doing any kind of work in the yard, then she has on her
work jeans, shirt, and her old sneakers. 

I helped her plant some flowers around her tree, and the
flowerbeds in front and back. Then we mulched everything. With all the talking
we did, it didn’t seem like we had been out there very long at all. Next thing
we knew it was four-thirty and time for her to start dinner. She invited me to
stay. I thought about passing, but then I remembered what a fabulous cook she
is, and I didn’t want to have dinner alone again so, I said yes.

Holy Cow that woman can cook! We had fried chicken, mashed
potatoes, homemade rolls, and pie for dessert. I sat there at her kitchen
counter and watched her do everything, and did not write one thing down so I
could do it for myself. I’m a pretty good cook but for some reason I can’t fry
chicken, and believe me I have tried. She talked to me the entire time she was
cooking. We talked about her granddaughter Shelley and how well she is doing as
the vice president of some big corporation. Shelley used to spend the summers
with them. She would come out and play sometimes but not very often. She had
terrible allergies and had to spend most of her time inside. Whenever she was
visiting, I would go over and play board games with her. I felt so bad for her
not being able to go outside and play like all the other kids. The older she
got the less time she spent with her Grandparents in the summers. We never kept
up the friendship. If I remember correctly, Shelley had a brother and some
cousins that visited during the summer as well. They must not be as successful
as Shelley because Mrs. Bartley didn’t mention them at all.

Watching her cook was amazing to me. It was like watching a
dance. She knew right where everything was, no hunting around or having to stop
and look in different cabinets. Before I knew it, dinner was ready. She had it
timed perfectly so that when Mr. Bartley came home from work and had washed up
his plate was on the table.

We had been sitting at the table for maybe five minutes and I
got up to get some more water. When I walked into the kitchen I couldn’t
believe my eyes. It was as clean as it was before she started cooking. I have
no idea when she did it; I was there the entire time and missed the whole
thing. Clean as you go. I have to remember to write that down and hang it
somewhere in my kitchen. I most likely won’t do it, but at least it will be
written down.

During dinner I made the mistake of asking what they had
planned for the summer. Well, this started some sort of ongoing argument. Of
course she wants to go to Dollywood and he wants to go to the Fantastic Caverns
and maybe over to Silver Dollar City while they are down that way. She asked
him why on earth he would want to go through some old caves when they could go
see Dolly Parton in the parade at opening day of Dollywood. He didn’t really
seem to care too much about Dolly, but when she promised he could go to the
woodcarving shop and get whatever he wanted, this got his attention. Besides,
she had that look in her eye that said they we’re going, and where else can she
go to replace the hillbilly windsock, beer can wind chimes all with the
Dollywood logo on them that she had gotten the first time they went in 1987? I
never have dinner conversations like this back in New York.

As we had our pie I asked what they thought of Grandpa’s new
girlfriend. Mrs. Bartley said she hadn’t talked to her much but from what she
could tell she seemed to be nice, and was glad to see Grandpa out and about
again. It seemed like Tatiana’s English was getting better all the time. If you
don’t know Mrs. Bartley, you would think she never has a bad word to say about
anyone. And for the most part she doesn’t. She may be quiet but she is
constantly watching, and “seems to be nice” is always her pat answer. You have
to word your questions just so to get any real information out of her.

I have found the one sure-fire way to get the real scoop out
of Mrs. Bartley is to let slip what Mrs. Ruby told you. When she heard that
Mrs. Ruby said people were coming and going at all times night and day, she was
quick to correct that. She had only seen one couple at the house, and thought
they were probably just friends of Tatiana’s or maybe her sister. Mrs. Bartley
had been taking a walk and happened to go by grandpas, she noticed the other
woman had the same kind of accent as Tatiana. The one thing Mrs. Bartley did
think was strange that the closer she got to Grandpas’ everyone stopped
talking. I didn’t have the heart to tell her they could probably tell she was
eavesdropping. I thought it was kind of funny that she thought they were the
ones being rude when they stopped talking. Mrs. Bartley said she couldn’t quite
put her finger on it, but there was something different about Tatiana.
Strangely enough, Mr. Bartley didn’t have anything to say about Grandpa’s
girlfriend. That was probably a wise move on his part, seeing as how his
thoughts were probably closer in line with what Grandpa Jon and his buddies
were thinking.

I asked if I could help with the dessert dishes, but she said
no, and again had everything done in about ten minutes. I wonder if I could
find someone like her in New York to take care of me. I would be willing to pay
big bucks. As I was walking back to Grandpa’s I realized how much I miss having
dinner with people like that. It was really nice, but it made me miss my mom
and dad even more than usual.

Mrs. Bartley’s kitchen inspired me to re-clean what I had
already cleaned. I was getting ready to attack the sink with some Ajax and
looked out the kitchen window. Mrs. Ruby was at her sink only she was “enjoying
her refreshment” as she cleaned. She saw me and sort of tipped the bottle towards
me in either a “here’s to ya” or “would you like one” way. I waved and went
back to cleaning. 

Talk to you later

So much for cleaning

Dear Mary,

Well, the cleaning lasted until I noticed a photo album. I sat down and started
going through the pictures, SO many memories. Had it not been for my mother
accidently stopping by Grandpa’s on one of my trips home from college, I would
have gone on thinking no one, not my mom, dad or me, had any communication with
Grandpa.

I think I was right around nine when Grandpa and Dad had a falling out.
The only thing I remember is sitting on the couch watching TV and Dad flying
into the house. It was obvious he was angry, but the only thing that came out
of his mouth was he didn’t want Mom or I to have anything to do with Grandpa
ever again. Then he stormed off to his work shed. That’s where he would go when
he was upset or angry. One of his favorite hobbies was woodworking; he had made
Mom a very nice umbrella stand and a new kitchen counter top. If she thought he
was taking too long on a project of hers, she would pick a little fight with
him just so he would get it finished.

Even though we lived in the same town and not that far away from one
another, Grandpa and Dad managed not to speak to one another until Mom died.

Grandma G died when I was seven, so the memories I have of her are
limited but good. The only clear memory I have of her is offering me a cookie.
I think if anyone offers a cookie to a kid, the memories they have of that person
are bound to be good. Even to this day if someone gives me a cookie I have the
best memory of that person. It isn’t just cookies anymore that make for a good
memory, it seems any baked goods will do the trick.

Of course my Mother took care of Grandpa after Grandma passed, and had
secretly continued to take care of Grandpa after the big fight he and Dad had.
The only way I found out was on one of my trips back home from college. Mom and
I were out doing some errands and she stopped at Grandpas house to drop
something off. When she got back in the car the only thing she said about it
was “Don’t mention this to your father”.

That's another difference between small towns and big cities. Everyone in
town knew about the big fight between Dad and Grandpa, they also knew Mom was
taking care of Grandpa and not to mention it to my Dad. I was so mad at her;
all of those years I had wanted to go see Grandpa and she had secretly been
taking care of him, never saying a word to me. I would see him out in his yard
when I was riding my bike. I would wave and he would wave back, but we both
knew that if I stopped to talk, Dad would find out about it. When I asked Mom
if I could stop and talk to Grandpa, the answer I got was "If your father
found out about it, shit would hit the fan." When I would ask her what the
fight had been about the answer she would give was, “It doesn’t matter what the
argument was about. It was between the two of them and none of our business. We
need to respect your father’s wishes.” Funny how that seemed to be the only
time we needed to respect his wishes. I waited a couple of months after the
fight and then started questioning Dad about what had happened. He also had one
of two answers: “I don’t want you talking to that man” or “I don’t want to talk
about it.” It didn’t matter which he used, he would always leave the room
frantically trying to find my mother, to get her to make me leave him alone.
I’m sure Dad told Mom everything, but what with the wonder twins only having
four answers between them, and neither of them showing any signs of caving in,
I gave up after a couple of months. I resigned myself to the fact that riding
by on my bike and waving was going to be as close as I could get to Grandpa. I
don’t know if it was from having not talked to him for so long, being older and
busier, but not talking to Grandpa seemed to have become more of the norm.

Grandpa and Dad managed not to speak to one another until Mom died. Even
then it wasn’t a big showing of emotions; Grandpa walked up to Dad and said he
was sorry for Dad’s loss. Then Grandpa turned to me, gave me hug and said he
loved me. I couldn’t believe it. I was so stunned couldn’t get a word out. I
know that’s hard to believe, but it’s true. All I could do was stand there and
watch as he walked out of the funeral home. After seeing Grandpa at Mom's
funeral, I didn’t have any contact with him until Dad passed away a year later.

I went home as often as I could during that year before Dad passed away,
because I knew he was going to have an extremely hard time dealing with Mom’s
death. I didn’t want him to feel as though he had lost his wife and daughter.
That was the first run in I had with the E-Mafia personally. They stopped by
Dad’s house before I went back to New York. They wanted to let me know they
would make sure Dad had plenty to eat, and would take care of cleaning the
house, laundry, and those types of things. I knew better than to try and talk
them out of it, so I tried to make arrangements to pay them. That failed as
well.

I should have made more of an effort to see Grandpa during that year, but
my attention was so focused on Dad. I had tried to keep Grandpa in the loop on
Dad’s condition. Most of the time I had to leave a message, I’m not sure if he
didn’t want talk to me, or if it was too upsetting for him. When Mrs. Bartley
called and said that I needed to get back to Edwardsville as soon as possible,
I asked her to make sure Grandpa knew what was going on. I didn’t make it back
before Dad died and asked Mrs. Bartley to call Grandpa and let him know Dad had
died. I called Grandpa later that evening and asked if he would like to go to
the funeral home with me to make the arrangements. He said no. I didn’t know if
he would or not but I thought he should at least have the choice, and I wanted
him to know I wasn’t going to close him out of my life like Dad had.

I felt so sorry for Grandpa. He must have had a million different
feelings hitting him all at once. His son was dead. Why did they waste all
those years being mad at one another? Why did both of them have to be so hard
headed? I would have loved to have him at the funeral home with me, but I
didn’t want to push him, and knew he had enough to deal with. I decided then I
was going to make a real effort to get to know Grandpa better. How I was going
to do it, and if he would be willing to participate was something I would have
to figure out later. I was hoping we would get a chance to spend some time
together at the visitation and funeral.

During the visitation Grandpa did say hello, gave me a hug, and said he
was sorry for my loss. He didn’t act much different at the funeral and that
truly upset me. He’s the only living family I have left, and there were a few
people there I felt closer to than my own Grandpa. I tried to convince myself he
was just too upset about his only child dying. I stayed in town after the
funeral to get the estate in order, and put the house up for sale. I thought
with me being in town that long, we would get the chance to spend some time
together.

Putting that house up for sale was one of the hardest things I’ve ever
had to do. The most important parts of my life took place there. How are you
supposed to sell that to someone else? At first I was going to sell it myself,
but I know me, and decided it would be best for an agent to sell the house.
What with me living in New York, there really wasn’t any way I could keep the
house. After all I will be able to keep all of the wonderful memories in my
heart and head. I was so busy dealing with all of the estate business it didn’t
occur to me until I got back to New York that Grandpa hadn’t come by the house.
I thought maybe he would have wanted something to remember his son. That was
the start of our weekly phone calls. When I asked him if he wanted anything of
Dad’s he said no, he had plenty of pictures and things from Dad’s childhood
that Grandma had saved. We talked for about forty-five minutes. I wanted to
make sure that he knew just because he and Dad had not gotten along or talked,
didn’t mean he and I couldn’t get to know one another again.

Getting to know Grandpa has taken longer than I had thought, but I’m glad
I’ve kept at it. He’s not as cold as I thought he had become. Before their
fight, Grandpa and I were pretty close. It’s been almost a year that we’ve been
talking, and it seems like he has loosened up, actually he’s pretty funny. He
tells me about all the fishing trips he and his friend Charlie go on, or what
crazy things the kids at the mall are wearing.

At this point we’re more like old friends trying to get to know one
another again rather than family, but I hope one day we will be like the family
we had been. Now that I think about it, every time I talk to him he says,
“You’re exactly like your mother.”  I had the greatest parents in the
world, so I must be doing something right. Grandpa has the timing down nearly
perfect for my calls and tries to make sure he is home so I don’t have to leave
a message on his machine. I’m surprise he hasn’t turned it off.

Later