A Marvelous Monday, page 7
“Mr. Berger, you and the Lord both know I need this job. Ma’am, I meant no offense,” Marie said.
“Might I suggest you practice friendly facial expressions in the mirror so others will not be put off by the snarkiness in your expression,” Zelda said. “Your reaction to my request was abominable.”
“I don’t know what those two words mean, but I will work on my facial expressions. Does that mean I can keep my job?”
“Yes, but fix your face,” Zelda said, looking at Scott. “And you could have warned me or at least told me you hired a staff. My family is only going to be here until Tuesday.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been in the bedroom turning five strokes into an 18-hole playthrough, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep afterward and I would have remembered to tell you,” he said.
“Oh, so this my fault,” she said.
“An island, Baby,” he said. “Keep it up and I will buy you an island.”
“It will probably be a sand berm in the middle of the Atlantic,” she scoffed.
“But it will be all yours,” he said with a cheeky grin.
On another matter, she looked at the table. “Scott, Chandler’s name is not on a placard. He’s not eating with us?” Zelda mentioned sending Marie to make a placard for Chandler. Scott called out to Marie to belay that order. The girl didn’t know what that meant, leaving him to change the wording to simply don’t make a placard for Chandler. Zelda wanted to know why Scott’s best friend would not be dining with her family when they arrived.
“No, he has to oversee the staff,” Scott said, looking at her lips moving. “If he is not watching them, they will walk off with half the house.”
“Oh!” she said making a perfectly rounded O with her mouth.
“Yeah, ain’t much to do around here and not many sources of income outside of my family,” he said. “As often as we can, the locals are hired to do needed work. Ergo the paint job, dinner, and other projects.”
“Everything smells wonderful and looks even better,” she said, running her hand across the china. “I think it is going to be a great stay for everybody.”
IN THE KITCHEN, THREE local ladies gathered in a tight huddle, whispering among themselves about the new woman in Scott Berger’s life, posing questions to Marie, who’d just interacted with the lady of the hour.
“Marie, what is she like? She looks like she can be bitchy,” Aster, the older of the three women said.
“Yeah, she looks like she is going to be lazy and that means we may get a full-time job out of this,” Peony replied in a deep Kentucky accent, running through words in her sentences. “So? What’s she like? What she say to you?”
Marie shrugged her shoulders, “She used a lot of big fancy words and called me an Abdominal Snowman or something. All I know is, Imma going to work on my facial expressions. I don’t want to get fired.”
“Why would she call you an Abdominal Snowman?” Aster inquired.
“I don’t know, she also said I was snarkiness, too. I don’t know what that means either,” Marie said.
“It means quit looking at people like they farted in front of you, that’s what it means,” Peony replied. “Ooh! Ohh! Chandler’s back. Her family is here. I wonder what they look like.”
“Slap my ass and call me Button Nose, is that her brother? That man is all sorts of tall, dark, and fine. Lord help me, I just sinned in my mouth with my tongue licking the roof of it like it was covered in peanut butter,” Peony cried out.
Aster peered out the window and gasped.
“Slap my ass too because that kooky ass Pip is on his arm,” Aster said softly. “How the hell she get a fine man like that? Hell, I’m going to shove my hand up one of these doll’s asses and throw my voice if that’s what it takes to pull a fine cookie cutter like that one there.”
“Oh shoot, hurry, hurry, here they come, places, places girls,” Aster said as they all ran to the front door to open it for the guest arriving. “Welcome to the Berger Estates.”
Michael made it through the front door and stopped at the table created by Scott. The ugly table with the giant head and arms coming out of its ears sat in the middle of the foyer with its glassy eyes and distorted face as if it had a stroke while swimming in Scottie’s Pond. Wilke made it as far as the velvet blue wall that he was stroking like a pet, and poor Grandma Lula pulled out her holy water, casting droplets of it over the gravel pit of glass eyeballs that stared back up at her. She had yet to make it through the front door.
“We have coffee and tea waiting for you in the living room,” Aster said. “Right this way to refresh yourselves.”
Wilke, reluctantly leaving the wall of blue feel-good, trailed along behind Aster whom he found to be well-shaped in the black housekeeper’s dress. He enjoyed watching her walk into the living room which housed the pink couch and life-sized Danny doll. The doll sat on the high backed chair with his legs crossed, like he owned the place. Wilke moved and eyes followed him. He ducked low and the eyes went low as well. He popped back up on his feet, and the doll’s gaze followed him. Poppa Bear let out a slight squeak.
“What the fuck is that? It’s watching me. It is some kind of security system or something,” Wilke asked, backing up into Michael, who was still staring at the table in confusion. Wilke, finally seeing the table, jumped two feet in the air and then ran out the door to snatch Lula’s Holy water out of her hand. “I’m going to need this.”
Grandma Lula trailed behind Wilke, trying to retrieve her bottle of liquid salvation, only to stop at the table and watch Wilke dump the bottle of water over the top of the glass. Zelda came around the corner all smiles, excited to see her family, who were frozen in place in front of the table. “Hey, everyone,” she said as their eyes slowly rose.
Her Grandmother was speaking in tongues and praying over the table. Michael was swearing under his breath. Wilke was speaking in Pilipino, something she’d never heard from him before, and only Pip, in her wide-eyed knowledge of the house took it all in stride. Even with the hired help giving Pip the side eye which cast enough shade to save her from sunburn, Michael’s fiance, and she made a point of showing the ring to the three hired helpers, ignored their high handedness.
“It is an art statement,” Zelda lied.
“It is the work of the Devil,” Grandma Lula said. “Did you know there are little glass eyeballs out there that look like gravel. I think some of them were following me. I covered them in the Blood of Jesus!”
“Grandma, it is good to see you,” Zelda said, thinking of giving the woman a hug and changing her mind. “Poppa Bear, Michael, Pip, come on in, make yourselves at home. Dinner is in an hour, Marie can show you to your rooms if you want to freshen up before dinner.”
Michael, suddenly finding his voice when Scott walked into the room, looked at his friend in crime and asked, “You made this creepy shit, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Scott said with pride. “It was during my artistic phase in undergrad.”
“Artistic my left butt cheek,” Michael said. “Your ass was on drugs!”
They shared a half handshake half hug and Scott provided the same to Wilke and even placed his arm around Grandma Lula’s shoulder. “We have a room downstairs for you if you can’t make the climb,” he said.
“The Devil is a liar!” Lula exclaimed. “I want to be close to Wilke and Michael when the ghost gets to moving in this crazy house put together with popsicle sticks. Something is wrong with these people, Zelda. Gravel eyeballs. This crazy table. I rebuke you, Satan!”
“Oh hell, we are all in trouble if Lula wants to be close to me,” Wilke said. “Show us this house, Zelda. I want to see the rest.”
“I don’t. I don’t want to see anything else,” Michael said. “I need a drink.”
“I have the best bourbon in Kentucky in my study,” Scott told him. “Follow me. We will do the tour after dinner. Zelda, are you and the ladies are okay?”
“Yeah, baby, we got it,” she told him. Pip, who had remained quiet, walked over to Zelda.
“Let me see that ring,” Pip said, taking Zelda by the hand. “When did he propose?
“Well, it happened last Wednesday,” she said grinning. Zelda raised her hand to show the ring to her Grandmother and new BFF. They gushed over the ring and Grandma Lula did something she’d never done before with her granddaughter. She hugged her and told her she loved her.
“You’re dying, aren’t you?” Zelda said.
“No Zelda, you are happy. For that, I am eternally grateful,” she said. “Wilke may wake up and find a lump in bed next to him and it’s going to be me! But I am going to anoint this house in my oils before I rest my head on any nary pillow – you can bet your testiculations on that!”
“I would expect any less, Grandma,” Zelda said. “And that’s not a word.”
Chapter Eight – A Marvelous Monday
Dinner went over well and Zelda was at peace. For the first time in her life, she sat at the dinner table with her entire family and didn’t have the burning desire to stab any of them. Michael seemed relaxed and Grandma Lula and Wilke were cordial. The icing on the cake came as Pip and Lula shared a story about a shopping experience they’d experienced together at the mall. In Zelda’s eyes, she understood better than she ever had that in order for her family to be whole, she needed to be as well.
After dinner, Scott gave the family a tour of the house and the pod. He carefully explained that it was a space shuttle, which led Michael to spend the better part of the evening pestering Chandler for the launch codes. Fed up with Michael following him about the house, Chandler instructed Zelda’s brother to go down the hall and open the third closet door on the right.
“In the rear of the closet, you will find a handle—pull the handle and it will release the codebook with the numbers to launch the pod,” Chandler told him.
Instead, what Michael found was a closet full of doll arms, legs, and torsos. Pulling the handle lowered the basket full of doll heads’ missing eyeballs. A loud scream emitted from the hallway, and Chandler lost his composure, holding his stomach in gut-busting laughter.
“I’m going to kick your ass, Chandler!” Michael called out, chasing him through the house and out the back door towards the pond. They ran past the golf cart, which held Wilke and Zelda as they rode out to the small cottage by the pond.
“Any fish in this pond?” Wilke asked.
“Of course. We have largemouth bass, bluegill, redear sunfish, and channel catfish. Anything else will contaminate the pond and destroy the balance and make the pond icky,” Scott replied.
“Scott, grown men don’t say icky,” Wilke corrected.
“When you can smell it from my bedroom with the windows closed, the pond is icky,” he said. “We had to treat it some years back when one of the kids threw in some crappie and bullhead catfish. Those catfish took over the pond and them damn crappies muddied the water so badly that the whole thing had to be drained to remove the icky smell. Took nearly four years to get it back healthy and stock it with edible fish.”
“You do a lot of fishing here?”
“Wilke, this is my pond. I swim in it and catch fresh fish for breakfast, and every Fourth of July, we shoot fireworks right from here,” he said. “We are self-sustained at the Berger Estates. We have beef and milk cows, chickens, even our own pigs. There is a church less than five miles away. I can get you the schedule for slaughter days so you know what to make room for in your fridge, but this...will be your new home.”
Scott stopped the cart in front of the blue cottage, which had a fresh coat of paint and new white wooden working shutters. The roof had been patched and the front porch repaired, and three white rockers sat on the landing. Wilke’s eyes watered.
“This is for me?” he asked, looking at Scott and Zelda.
“Yes, Sir,” Scott said, handing him a set of keys to the front door. “This is my golf cart, so you will need to get your own.”
“No problem,” Wilke said. “Is it okay to go inside?”
“Certainly, the possums and coons are all gone, but there is no furniture,” he said, watching his soon-to-be father-in-law walk away. Scott had questions. “Baby, I don’t think your Daddy is old enough to be retired. How does he make his living?”
“He was injured on an oil rig, so he is on disability,” she said. “He also is a certified technical writer. It keeps him busy and gives him side money.”
“Really? A tech writer?”
“Yes, he does a lot of manuals for APP developers and the steps on a website to troubleshoot home electronics,” Zelda said.
“You don’t say!”
“Scott, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I could save myself a helluva lot of time if I get your Dad to write a few manuals on vent doll care, but then I would phase myself out of a job,” he said, frowning.
Wilke joined them again on the cart after locking the front door on his new home.
“Well, whaddya think, Poppa Bear?” Zelda asked.
“It’s perfect,” he said. “Thank you both, so very much. I just have to get my house sold and move up here before winter sets in.”
“We will be here,” Scott said.
“Thank you so much,” Wilke said again, trying to hide the emotion choking up his words. He had known the day would come when his little girl would get married and leave the nest to start a family of her own. Mentally, he’d prepared himself to let her go and find something to do to keep himself busy until his grandkids arrived, but this...he was outdone. His Zelda was bringing him with her. To her new life.
Wilke Batista was grateful that she wouldn’t leave all of her old life behind.
GRANDMA LULA FUSSED all the way to the church. She wanted to know where Zelda was. She argued with Michael that he should have kept better tabs on his sister. Then she wanted to know where Scott was...where they were going...and why she needed to be all dressed up. Pip, sitting between Lula and Wilke, politely asked her to be quiet.
“Don’t tell me to hush up, Gal,” Lula said. “You and Michael and your fornificatious ways last night kept me up and them ghosts, too. I don’t know which was moaning louder you or the haints. Both of ya’ll need Jesus.”
Her words stopped when they pulled up in front of the small church. People were filing into the building, almost fighting with each other to get a seat.
“What kind of function is this?” Michael asked Chandler.
“The Bergers are always doing something for the community. I am certain your sister is more than likely in the middle of all the commotion,” Chandler said. “This way, please.”
He led them into the vestibule and down the aisle to the front row of seats, taking one himself. Michael’s eyes scanned the crowd, stopping on the back of a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man he assumed was Scott until the man turned to face them, providing a buck-toothed smile.
“Damn,” Michael said trying his best to give back a warm smile. His lips quivered in an effort not to get up and walk over for an up-close look.
“Watch your mouth, boy. You are in the house of the Lord,” Grandma Lula said, pinching him. He winced, elbowed her, and kind of non-discreetly pointed at Jacob Berger.
“Grandma, Scott looks just like his Daddy,” Michael whispered.
Lula’s eyes went over to the Bergers, resting on the woman in a sundress with a tiny afro coming out from under her arms. Jacob Berger waved to her, smiling at Lula who said, “Well shit. They say the Lord don’t make mistakes, but I’ll be damned if there ain’t two of them funny looking buck tooth bastards,” Lula said, pursing her lips.
“Grandma really!” Michael said.
“Oh hush up, you see that hairy one—I know that’s his sister. She looks just like the Daddy, too. Look at the little boy talking to a dirty sock. These people ain’t right,” Lula said. “I tell you what, I’m not babysitting Zelda’s little fur-covered, bucked toothed circus pets. Well, maybe, but I won’t take them out in public. These people are just plain ugly. Look at the little girl, she acts like she special, too.”
Michael looked at the sister, standing next to a man who looked as if he had stepped off the pages of GQ. The woman was hairier than Scott and looked like she could have been his female twin. Pip pinched him this time.
“Stop staring,” Pip whispered.
“I can’t help it,” He said. “They are not attractive people. It’s like a freak show but real. That little boy is playing with a dirty sock on his hand. The girl is eating her hair with a vacant look in her eyes and the other sister keeps mouth kissing everybody. Oh God, please forgive me for my unkind words, but they’s ugly.”
“Michael Fitzsimmons!” Pip said chastising her man, also curious as to what was about to happen.
Chandler, receiving a nod from Pastor Goodman, began to check his pockets as if he’d forgotten something from the car. Asking for Wilke’s assistance, they both rose and went to the back of the church as Scott, dressed in a black suit, arrived on the dais. The church grew silent as he reached for the mic, but changed his mind. Instead, he walked to the end of the dais steps, his hands nested in front of him as “Here Comes the Bride” began.
The parishioners all stood. Michael popped to his feet, looking left and right as a shocked Wilke, in full-blown emotional overload, a black suit almost too small and real shoes, walked his daughter down the aisle. Pip sighed at the sight of the full-length gown. The dress was an ivory chiffon modified A-line bridal gown with a beaded applique Alencon lace bodice with bateau illusion neckline, long sleeves with appliqued details, nude sweetheart underlay, a sheer V back, and chapel train, which made Scott inhale twice just to make sure he was breathing.
The oohs and ahs of the locals went through the crowd as people snapped photos and others recorded it live for social media as Zelda Marie Fitzsimmons walked down the aisle with her father. Wilke held his head high as he placed her hand into Scott’s after Scott lifted her veil.
“Absolutely spectacular,” Scott said.
