Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Having a good and productive time. When I get to a place I can download my pictures I'll try and remember to post a few. Santiago in particular has a lot of graffiti from the protests. I posted in the Central and South America thread some interesting things so maybe you've read it already. I won't duplicate it here. Anyway, internet connectivity is as problematic as I suspected it would be. It is practically bi-polar. Today is a "good" day so I'm able to post this next bit.
Chapter 16
First off the pay, while legit, is barely legal. I’ve run into that before. All it means is I have to be careful not to run my mouth about things and get people interested that don’t have any business in my business. I don’t have to worry too much though. The lawyers will pay employment taxes on me, just they’ll skate-by by only paying it on the cash I get. The rest of my pay is going to be in goods and services. What Sarge called “bartering for my services.” My room and board falls under the “services” part of the equation. The “goods” part is what is interesting.
Let’s start with them five tea bags per week. I didn’t notice it while I was on the road but there are a lot of things that are getting so scarce that the government has started rationing them with coupons. Imports like coffee, tea, and chocolate are three of the biggies. There’s also the imported booze which is freaking a lot of people out. Not only are they rationing it at the consumer level they are taxing it with tariffs which also rolls down hill to the consumer.
“You don’t care about this?” Sarge asked me more than a little disgruntled.
“It’s not that I don’t care, you just haven’t gotten to a product that I need. I don’t drink.”
“That’s right, you ain’t legal.”
“And you aren’t so old that you shouldn’t know that if someone wants to drink it doesn’t matter how old they are, there’s a way to get it.”
“Hmm. What about coffee, tea, or chocolate?”
“I don’t drink coffee and not much tea, and chocolate gives me painful zits on the back of my neck.”
“Okay then smart aleck how about fuel and cooking oil.”
“Welll, I admit I can see where fuel could be a problem but the US makes most of its own fuel these days so it isn’t an import and since I can’t afford a car or the insurance to get it tagged, feet power is what I’ve always used. And before you go off on me, I know there’s other things like the gas that runs the stove and things like that. I’m not completely stupid, that stuff has always been expensive and I’ve spent my whole life – from Mom and Dad to the group home, school, and everywhere else – being told to conserve instead of waste. And cooking oil, yeah I get that too. Ever had to buy all the food for a weekend camp out of 25 scouts? With everyone paying $20 ($15 of which goes to pay the camp fee) $5 per scout doesn’t go far.”
Giving me a little credit he said, “Reckon you may understand. You just be careful how not-caring you seem if the subject comes up around other people. You might not get the chance to explain your side of it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t figure getting into anyone else’s business and hope they’ll do the same for me. Trouble is something I don’t need.”
“You got that right.” He rubbed his forehead then said, “Let’s get back on track. Not sure I’m gonna be good for too much for much longer. That fall last night didn’t do me no good.” I waited and he finally said, “Different places have different rationing levels for different items. A ration book should be coming with your ID. You heard how the coupons work?”
“Nah. Didn’t know there was such a thing until you told me.”
“Well it works like this. Every man, woman, and child has a book issued in their name. Children get a different kind of ration book.”
Having a suspicion I asked, “Is that why Fabrice lives here instead of with his family?”
He gave me a look and then said, “Yeah. But why you say that? Did Julius run his mouth?”
“Nah. Just watched a lot of kids get thrown into foster care because their parent or whatever used the SSI or other stuff like that to buy drugs or booze and junk.”
Sarge said, “Just about happened that way with Fabrice. The court was going to assign him a payee one way or the other and Orélie was the only one that would take it on. She’s only had him a couple of months and while he is some better, she ain’t as hard on him as he likely needs. But yeah, that’s why Fabrice lives here and those two hellions that are his brothers stop by every day.”
“She needs to cut the two older ones loose. They’re taking advantage of her.”
“I know it. Orelie knows it. She’s just a lot more softhearted than she likes people to know. She thinks she is a good influence on them two.”
“Only thing that is going to influence them is a kick in the butt.”
“You get into it with them again?”
“Might have. But points on my side this time. We’ll see how it goes.”
He let my answer go and then said, “Your ration coupons are going to be for things like meat, cooking oil, flour, coffee, tea, chocolate, white sugar, canned goods, bleach, cheese, shortening and lard, milk, and new shoes and clothes. List is pretty long. To buy any of that stuff you’re gonna need to take your ration book with you and the store clerk must be the one to tear it out. They won’t accept coupons that are already tore out. They claim it is to keep people from gaming the system but I have my doubts.”
Having one concern I asked, “Is feminine hygiene stuff being rationed?”
After having some water go down the wrong pipe he finally answered, “Cher, if that stuff ever gets rationed the world is gonna burn down. Bad enough they’re rationing disposable diapers and baby formula.”
I made a face having heard enough about how expensive babies are from the Steubens. “So it sounds like room and board covers most of my pay and I’ll get a little extra to cover expenses here and there.”
“Pretty much. But the ‘little extra’ is more than five tea bags and a bag of raw sugar a week. And notice I said raw and not white sugar. Same for the salt you’ll get on a weekly basis. Ain’t gonna look like the fancy table salt you might be used to. You’ll get the sugar and salt by weight. And ‘cause the lawyers contracted with the military you’ll also get things that are hard to come by in the store these days like wheat and oatmeal. Won’t be much but it will be some which is more than most can say around here. But you’ll also get some things like rice and dried corn that grow in Louisiana.”
“That why the sugar is raw instead of white?”
“You just guessing?”
“Nah. One of the few letters from Uncle Henley told me about some work he did for a sugar cane farm so I just took a WAG on it.”
Sarge chuckled and said, “Good WAG. And more than likely he meant the farm down the road from here. They ain’t the biggest producer in the state but add all their holdings up and it ain’t just a little ol’ place either. Before the letter come today I was thinking about going down and trying to get a job but if I can’t get clearance … eh, like you say, I’ll probably wind up working for Aunt Orélie.”
“That’s not what I said. I said ‘for now’. Don’t give up so easy.”
“I didn’t say I was giving up,” he snapped as his mood changed lightning fast.
“Good. Giving up should only be a last choice, not a first choice. Lot’s of time I could have given up. Including when you had to tell me about Uncle Henley. But you told me to keep coming here … and look what I got. A roof to live under, three squares a day if I want them, a real bed to sleep in, a job, and maybe something more if I can figure out what to do with my pay.”
“For now,” he muttered going from angry to depressed with the next swing.
“Well sure for now. Everything in life is ‘for now’ because there’s no promises of tomorrow. But I’ll take this ‘for now’ over what I had before.”
“Couyon caneton,” he muttered at me, but it was with a small grin, so all was good.
He finished his dinner and since I was finished I did the dishes. I’m Queen of the Crapwork after all. Not to mention I wasn’t real sure whether to trust him with the dishes. He isn’t exactly walking very well, and he won’t use the walker unless he doesn’t have a choice. I got it in spades and curses when I asked him why. “Then what about a cane?”
“You trying to make me feel better? ‘Cause for damn sure you’re doing the opposite.”
I’d had enough of being chewed on. “I’m not your mother so I’m not gonna try and make you do anything. It was just a question. Next time you can take a dump on your butt, or your head, or anything else. But you aren’t touching the dishes. I’m not losing my job over something breakable … except maybe your neck. That you can break all you want,” I told him, choosing to calmly walk out rather than get any more pissy just ‘cause he was having an attitude. He may be the bonafide grown up here, and me freshly minted, but dang if I’m going to be the punching bag because he’s feeling sensitive. I didn’t put up with that from the guys in the crew that I knew practically my whole life; not even Zeb. I won’t put up with it from someone who is practically a stranger … even if I did make the mistake of thinking we could be friends of a sort maybe.
Thankfully I still had that list Aunt Orélie needed worked on. I figure it’s better to prioritize things but I gotta say it is a whole lot easier to take orders than figure it all out myself. Like it is a whole lot easier to be a patrol member than to be the Patrol Leader, and it is a whole lot easier being a Patrol Leader than being a Senior Patrol Leader. Whatta ya know … lessons and truths I learned in scouts really is proving to be true for the grown up as well.
As soon as I got some idea of what I’d do first I remembered that there was gonna be a full house in both the Isabella and the Old House. I’ve already made headway at the Isabella. I needed to take a look at the rest of the rooms at Old House. I’ve had plenty of practice avoiding people, so it was no problem to avoid Sarge … or Em … or Mr. Pain in my Butt … not sure what I’ll wind up calling him. Might keep calling him Sarge to his face and the other when speaking to Aunt Orélie. Don’t know and right now it just gives me indigestion to think about. He might have upset me more than I want to admit.
As for the empty rooms … Gag me. What a mess but I think I have it under control so long as they don’t expect the Taj Mahal. Though come to think of it that place is a mausoleum and not a castle of palace like most people think it is. I’m glad that Aunt Orélie gave me a master key. It felt kinda ick at first, like it made me nervous. Now, I’m just glad I have it so I can get things done without forever having to run to her first.
The rooms upstairs at the Old House were all musty, even had a bit of mildew on some of the walls and other surfaces. I opened each room’s window a crack – lucky they all have screens – and then wiped everything down. Then I flipped the mattresses. They didn’t have sheets on them, but I found a bunch in a small closet on the first floor off the shared living space. I also found a few bottles of concentrated liquid disinfectant in there with a five-gallon bucket that held other cleaners. The two spray bottles in there didn’t work but I’d seen a five-gallon chemical sprayer in the work shed so I went and got it – and almost got eaten alive by mosquitos at the same time – which put something else on my list to do.
While I mixed up disinfectant, I reminded myself to start a daily caper chart for myself. It’ll be a caper chart for one person but hopefully it will help me to remember to do things like spray myself down with bug spray. I’ve got a little Deet left that I’ll spritz my shoes and pants with too. Hopefully that will keep the stuff in the yard from making a meal out of me. I was spraying the mattresses and baseboards with the disinfectant when there was a growl from downstairs, “What the hell is that smell?!”
I yelled down the answer, “What’s that smell that comes out of your backside every time you open your mouth?”
There was dead silence for about five seconds and then I hear a woman laughing … great big belly laughing. I thought I was dead. As in dead and jobless but when I stuck my head cautiously down the stairs Aunt Orélie is sliding down into a chair in the hall and can barely stay upright she is laughing so hard. What I said wasn’t that funny but the look on Sarge’s face sure was. He spotted me and I shrugged by way of an apology before telling them both, “Upstairs was really musty, especially when I flipped the mattresses. I’m just giving everything a good disinfecting.”
Aunt Orélie finally drew breath and said, “Oh Child, if you aren’t Henley’s spitting image. You sure he didn’t raise you?”
I walked a few steps down with the sprayer in my hand and said, “No ma’am. And my mother probably wouldn’t be too happy with my mouth right now. Dad and Uncle Henley … they could be rough, but Dad meant for me to at least be polite and that comment wasn’t. Er … I apologize. Especially since I hadn’t even checked to see if anyone else was down here before I said it.”
Sarge smiled in spite of his earlier snit and said, “I earned that one. Now what’s in that sprayer? That don’t smell like insecticide.”
“It isn’t. I found some disinfectant in the linen closet. It was pretty bad up there.”
That’s when Sarge found out that there was going to be a bunch more guests than normal. He didn’t look happy about it but admitted that the extra money would be good for Aunt Orelie. I figure he doesn’t want other soldiers seeing him right now, or doesn’t want to be reminded of what he might not be in the future. Coincidentally I found that Aunt Orélie pays for the food she feeds to Fabrice and his brothers and that’s when I thought I’d get another pinch in, this time at them.
“Hmm. They still going to come after school with all the military personnel draped all over the place?”
“Why? You object to it?” she asked with zero humor.
I gave her a look like she was crazy, “They aren’t my monkeys or my circus, so it isn’t any of my business. I was just asking … you know, in case. They seem a little young for their age and if they were to accidentally get into things I just want to have the right answer to keep them out of trouble since they’re your nephews.”
Aunt Orélie’s expression told me she was no fool. “Girl you don’t need to gold plate it. I know the boys – all three of them – have their faults. But despite what you might think, they were much worse in the beginning. Spit it out so it doesn’t take all night. What’s on your mind?”
I shrugged and said, “I’m used to dealing with their age group.”
In a sotto voice Sarge said, “You ain’t far off from their age group.”
A little louder I said, “Be that as it may, most boys that act like they do have pride and self-esteem issues. I figure why not kill two birds with one stone. Teach ‘em a little pride, give them a small job to do before they get their meal, then boost their self-esteem when the job is well done.” I was thinking it wouldn’t hurt that tire they were growing around their middle either. “And you get some satisfaction that they are learning some life lessons and might come up with some motivation to do something with themselves besides get into trouble.”
She thought about it and by the twinkle in her eye she knew what I was up to. Like I said, Aunt Orélie is not a stupid woman. What she did say was, “I’ll think on it. What kinda jobs you have in mind?”
“Maybe rake the driveway or pick up limbs out of the yard. Might make it so Mr. Julius gets his mowing done faster and gone sooner. Who knows where it might lead? Certainly those Trust lawyers can’t object to some job training. Might even look good for them.”
She snickered. “You part salesman for a fact. You know all the bells and whistles to mention.” She sighed and stood up and I could see she was tired, more tired than is probably healthy for a woman her age. “I’ll think on it,” she repeated. Then she shook her head. “Tomorrow I have to go over to the school for a meeting with Fabrice’s teachers. I have to swing by and pick up Serafine before as and the boys need to go as well. Lucky there’s no guests for breakfast. However, on top of the school I’m taking them all to see Father Damboue before hand for a counseling session. That means you are gonna have to get breakfast on your own. There are some leftovers in the ice box but most of the supplies won’t be here to the next day so don’t waste anything. Come along Fabrice. It’s your bedtime … and mine.”
That’s when I spotted Fabrice at his favorite past time. Sitting out of sight to avoid work. They left and I turned to go finish upstairs.
“They’re gonna be turning the power off soon. It’ll be dark up there.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean work’ll stop. Are you gonna want me to bring your breakfast to you tomorrow or do you think you can come to the Big House?”
“Big House,” was his reply before I lost sight of him as I went back upstairs.
I managed to do a little more cleaning and I put a clean set of sheets on top of each bed. I’ll put them on tomorrow. Pillows are another matter. Don’t know where they are or if the guests – whomever they may be – bring their own. Same for towels. There were none in the linen closet and there aren’t enough in the bathroom if the rooms are going to be filled to capacity. I’ll clean the downstairs public room tomorrow, same as for the Big House. I plan on showering and washing my hair tomorrow too. I don’t want to have to figure out how to do that with only one bathroom and the rest of the rooms filled with guys. There were always separate facilities in Scouts – actually that was the rules – same for the Group Home and the foster homes I was in. How this is going to work with only one bathroom is going to be more interesting that I’m probably going to care for. So with all that to do tomorrow, I’m climbing in bed.
Note to self: I was right. There’s more people gonna be coming and going around here than at the Group Home. I’m not sure I want to deal with all these people but that’s the job. So … add to the play book that Serafine is Fabrice’s and the dumbtastic duo’s mother. She had Fontaine (short for Fontainebleau) when she was 13 and he’s fourteen now, Franc (short for Francois) when she was 14, meaning she is only 27. Fabrice is a puny 7 years old which tells me she probably got caught with him after her Nexplanon insert ran out or soon after anyway. Or maybe she is just stupid. Might be where the boys get it from.
Second note to self: Father Damboue is a counselor at the local Family Life Center. Beyond that I have no clue. I just hope Aunt Orélie doesn’t get it into her head that I need any counseling from him. I’ve had all of that kind of stuff I want. I am not traumatized and I’m not confused about who or what I am. Life sucks and I’m me and I don’t have too much trouble understanding either one of those things. It’s other people that have the problems getting those two concepts.
Chapter 16
First off the pay, while legit, is barely legal. I’ve run into that before. All it means is I have to be careful not to run my mouth about things and get people interested that don’t have any business in my business. I don’t have to worry too much though. The lawyers will pay employment taxes on me, just they’ll skate-by by only paying it on the cash I get. The rest of my pay is going to be in goods and services. What Sarge called “bartering for my services.” My room and board falls under the “services” part of the equation. The “goods” part is what is interesting.
Let’s start with them five tea bags per week. I didn’t notice it while I was on the road but there are a lot of things that are getting so scarce that the government has started rationing them with coupons. Imports like coffee, tea, and chocolate are three of the biggies. There’s also the imported booze which is freaking a lot of people out. Not only are they rationing it at the consumer level they are taxing it with tariffs which also rolls down hill to the consumer.
“You don’t care about this?” Sarge asked me more than a little disgruntled.
“It’s not that I don’t care, you just haven’t gotten to a product that I need. I don’t drink.”
“That’s right, you ain’t legal.”
“And you aren’t so old that you shouldn’t know that if someone wants to drink it doesn’t matter how old they are, there’s a way to get it.”
“Hmm. What about coffee, tea, or chocolate?”
“I don’t drink coffee and not much tea, and chocolate gives me painful zits on the back of my neck.”
“Okay then smart aleck how about fuel and cooking oil.”
“Welll, I admit I can see where fuel could be a problem but the US makes most of its own fuel these days so it isn’t an import and since I can’t afford a car or the insurance to get it tagged, feet power is what I’ve always used. And before you go off on me, I know there’s other things like the gas that runs the stove and things like that. I’m not completely stupid, that stuff has always been expensive and I’ve spent my whole life – from Mom and Dad to the group home, school, and everywhere else – being told to conserve instead of waste. And cooking oil, yeah I get that too. Ever had to buy all the food for a weekend camp out of 25 scouts? With everyone paying $20 ($15 of which goes to pay the camp fee) $5 per scout doesn’t go far.”
Giving me a little credit he said, “Reckon you may understand. You just be careful how not-caring you seem if the subject comes up around other people. You might not get the chance to explain your side of it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t figure getting into anyone else’s business and hope they’ll do the same for me. Trouble is something I don’t need.”
“You got that right.” He rubbed his forehead then said, “Let’s get back on track. Not sure I’m gonna be good for too much for much longer. That fall last night didn’t do me no good.” I waited and he finally said, “Different places have different rationing levels for different items. A ration book should be coming with your ID. You heard how the coupons work?”
“Nah. Didn’t know there was such a thing until you told me.”
“Well it works like this. Every man, woman, and child has a book issued in their name. Children get a different kind of ration book.”
Having a suspicion I asked, “Is that why Fabrice lives here instead of with his family?”
He gave me a look and then said, “Yeah. But why you say that? Did Julius run his mouth?”
“Nah. Just watched a lot of kids get thrown into foster care because their parent or whatever used the SSI or other stuff like that to buy drugs or booze and junk.”
Sarge said, “Just about happened that way with Fabrice. The court was going to assign him a payee one way or the other and Orélie was the only one that would take it on. She’s only had him a couple of months and while he is some better, she ain’t as hard on him as he likely needs. But yeah, that’s why Fabrice lives here and those two hellions that are his brothers stop by every day.”
“She needs to cut the two older ones loose. They’re taking advantage of her.”
“I know it. Orelie knows it. She’s just a lot more softhearted than she likes people to know. She thinks she is a good influence on them two.”
“Only thing that is going to influence them is a kick in the butt.”
“You get into it with them again?”
“Might have. But points on my side this time. We’ll see how it goes.”
He let my answer go and then said, “Your ration coupons are going to be for things like meat, cooking oil, flour, coffee, tea, chocolate, white sugar, canned goods, bleach, cheese, shortening and lard, milk, and new shoes and clothes. List is pretty long. To buy any of that stuff you’re gonna need to take your ration book with you and the store clerk must be the one to tear it out. They won’t accept coupons that are already tore out. They claim it is to keep people from gaming the system but I have my doubts.”
Having one concern I asked, “Is feminine hygiene stuff being rationed?”
After having some water go down the wrong pipe he finally answered, “Cher, if that stuff ever gets rationed the world is gonna burn down. Bad enough they’re rationing disposable diapers and baby formula.”
I made a face having heard enough about how expensive babies are from the Steubens. “So it sounds like room and board covers most of my pay and I’ll get a little extra to cover expenses here and there.”
“Pretty much. But the ‘little extra’ is more than five tea bags and a bag of raw sugar a week. And notice I said raw and not white sugar. Same for the salt you’ll get on a weekly basis. Ain’t gonna look like the fancy table salt you might be used to. You’ll get the sugar and salt by weight. And ‘cause the lawyers contracted with the military you’ll also get things that are hard to come by in the store these days like wheat and oatmeal. Won’t be much but it will be some which is more than most can say around here. But you’ll also get some things like rice and dried corn that grow in Louisiana.”
“That why the sugar is raw instead of white?”
“You just guessing?”
“Nah. One of the few letters from Uncle Henley told me about some work he did for a sugar cane farm so I just took a WAG on it.”
Sarge chuckled and said, “Good WAG. And more than likely he meant the farm down the road from here. They ain’t the biggest producer in the state but add all their holdings up and it ain’t just a little ol’ place either. Before the letter come today I was thinking about going down and trying to get a job but if I can’t get clearance … eh, like you say, I’ll probably wind up working for Aunt Orélie.”
“That’s not what I said. I said ‘for now’. Don’t give up so easy.”
“I didn’t say I was giving up,” he snapped as his mood changed lightning fast.
“Good. Giving up should only be a last choice, not a first choice. Lot’s of time I could have given up. Including when you had to tell me about Uncle Henley. But you told me to keep coming here … and look what I got. A roof to live under, three squares a day if I want them, a real bed to sleep in, a job, and maybe something more if I can figure out what to do with my pay.”
“For now,” he muttered going from angry to depressed with the next swing.
“Well sure for now. Everything in life is ‘for now’ because there’s no promises of tomorrow. But I’ll take this ‘for now’ over what I had before.”
“Couyon caneton,” he muttered at me, but it was with a small grin, so all was good.
He finished his dinner and since I was finished I did the dishes. I’m Queen of the Crapwork after all. Not to mention I wasn’t real sure whether to trust him with the dishes. He isn’t exactly walking very well, and he won’t use the walker unless he doesn’t have a choice. I got it in spades and curses when I asked him why. “Then what about a cane?”
“You trying to make me feel better? ‘Cause for damn sure you’re doing the opposite.”
I’d had enough of being chewed on. “I’m not your mother so I’m not gonna try and make you do anything. It was just a question. Next time you can take a dump on your butt, or your head, or anything else. But you aren’t touching the dishes. I’m not losing my job over something breakable … except maybe your neck. That you can break all you want,” I told him, choosing to calmly walk out rather than get any more pissy just ‘cause he was having an attitude. He may be the bonafide grown up here, and me freshly minted, but dang if I’m going to be the punching bag because he’s feeling sensitive. I didn’t put up with that from the guys in the crew that I knew practically my whole life; not even Zeb. I won’t put up with it from someone who is practically a stranger … even if I did make the mistake of thinking we could be friends of a sort maybe.
Thankfully I still had that list Aunt Orélie needed worked on. I figure it’s better to prioritize things but I gotta say it is a whole lot easier to take orders than figure it all out myself. Like it is a whole lot easier to be a patrol member than to be the Patrol Leader, and it is a whole lot easier being a Patrol Leader than being a Senior Patrol Leader. Whatta ya know … lessons and truths I learned in scouts really is proving to be true for the grown up as well.
As soon as I got some idea of what I’d do first I remembered that there was gonna be a full house in both the Isabella and the Old House. I’ve already made headway at the Isabella. I needed to take a look at the rest of the rooms at Old House. I’ve had plenty of practice avoiding people, so it was no problem to avoid Sarge … or Em … or Mr. Pain in my Butt … not sure what I’ll wind up calling him. Might keep calling him Sarge to his face and the other when speaking to Aunt Orélie. Don’t know and right now it just gives me indigestion to think about. He might have upset me more than I want to admit.
As for the empty rooms … Gag me. What a mess but I think I have it under control so long as they don’t expect the Taj Mahal. Though come to think of it that place is a mausoleum and not a castle of palace like most people think it is. I’m glad that Aunt Orélie gave me a master key. It felt kinda ick at first, like it made me nervous. Now, I’m just glad I have it so I can get things done without forever having to run to her first.
The rooms upstairs at the Old House were all musty, even had a bit of mildew on some of the walls and other surfaces. I opened each room’s window a crack – lucky they all have screens – and then wiped everything down. Then I flipped the mattresses. They didn’t have sheets on them, but I found a bunch in a small closet on the first floor off the shared living space. I also found a few bottles of concentrated liquid disinfectant in there with a five-gallon bucket that held other cleaners. The two spray bottles in there didn’t work but I’d seen a five-gallon chemical sprayer in the work shed so I went and got it – and almost got eaten alive by mosquitos at the same time – which put something else on my list to do.
While I mixed up disinfectant, I reminded myself to start a daily caper chart for myself. It’ll be a caper chart for one person but hopefully it will help me to remember to do things like spray myself down with bug spray. I’ve got a little Deet left that I’ll spritz my shoes and pants with too. Hopefully that will keep the stuff in the yard from making a meal out of me. I was spraying the mattresses and baseboards with the disinfectant when there was a growl from downstairs, “What the hell is that smell?!”
I yelled down the answer, “What’s that smell that comes out of your backside every time you open your mouth?”
There was dead silence for about five seconds and then I hear a woman laughing … great big belly laughing. I thought I was dead. As in dead and jobless but when I stuck my head cautiously down the stairs Aunt Orélie is sliding down into a chair in the hall and can barely stay upright she is laughing so hard. What I said wasn’t that funny but the look on Sarge’s face sure was. He spotted me and I shrugged by way of an apology before telling them both, “Upstairs was really musty, especially when I flipped the mattresses. I’m just giving everything a good disinfecting.”
Aunt Orélie finally drew breath and said, “Oh Child, if you aren’t Henley’s spitting image. You sure he didn’t raise you?”
I walked a few steps down with the sprayer in my hand and said, “No ma’am. And my mother probably wouldn’t be too happy with my mouth right now. Dad and Uncle Henley … they could be rough, but Dad meant for me to at least be polite and that comment wasn’t. Er … I apologize. Especially since I hadn’t even checked to see if anyone else was down here before I said it.”
Sarge smiled in spite of his earlier snit and said, “I earned that one. Now what’s in that sprayer? That don’t smell like insecticide.”
“It isn’t. I found some disinfectant in the linen closet. It was pretty bad up there.”
That’s when Sarge found out that there was going to be a bunch more guests than normal. He didn’t look happy about it but admitted that the extra money would be good for Aunt Orelie. I figure he doesn’t want other soldiers seeing him right now, or doesn’t want to be reminded of what he might not be in the future. Coincidentally I found that Aunt Orélie pays for the food she feeds to Fabrice and his brothers and that’s when I thought I’d get another pinch in, this time at them.
“Hmm. They still going to come after school with all the military personnel draped all over the place?”
“Why? You object to it?” she asked with zero humor.
I gave her a look like she was crazy, “They aren’t my monkeys or my circus, so it isn’t any of my business. I was just asking … you know, in case. They seem a little young for their age and if they were to accidentally get into things I just want to have the right answer to keep them out of trouble since they’re your nephews.”
Aunt Orélie’s expression told me she was no fool. “Girl you don’t need to gold plate it. I know the boys – all three of them – have their faults. But despite what you might think, they were much worse in the beginning. Spit it out so it doesn’t take all night. What’s on your mind?”
I shrugged and said, “I’m used to dealing with their age group.”
In a sotto voice Sarge said, “You ain’t far off from their age group.”
A little louder I said, “Be that as it may, most boys that act like they do have pride and self-esteem issues. I figure why not kill two birds with one stone. Teach ‘em a little pride, give them a small job to do before they get their meal, then boost their self-esteem when the job is well done.” I was thinking it wouldn’t hurt that tire they were growing around their middle either. “And you get some satisfaction that they are learning some life lessons and might come up with some motivation to do something with themselves besides get into trouble.”
She thought about it and by the twinkle in her eye she knew what I was up to. Like I said, Aunt Orélie is not a stupid woman. What she did say was, “I’ll think on it. What kinda jobs you have in mind?”
“Maybe rake the driveway or pick up limbs out of the yard. Might make it so Mr. Julius gets his mowing done faster and gone sooner. Who knows where it might lead? Certainly those Trust lawyers can’t object to some job training. Might even look good for them.”
She snickered. “You part salesman for a fact. You know all the bells and whistles to mention.” She sighed and stood up and I could see she was tired, more tired than is probably healthy for a woman her age. “I’ll think on it,” she repeated. Then she shook her head. “Tomorrow I have to go over to the school for a meeting with Fabrice’s teachers. I have to swing by and pick up Serafine before as and the boys need to go as well. Lucky there’s no guests for breakfast. However, on top of the school I’m taking them all to see Father Damboue before hand for a counseling session. That means you are gonna have to get breakfast on your own. There are some leftovers in the ice box but most of the supplies won’t be here to the next day so don’t waste anything. Come along Fabrice. It’s your bedtime … and mine.”
That’s when I spotted Fabrice at his favorite past time. Sitting out of sight to avoid work. They left and I turned to go finish upstairs.
“They’re gonna be turning the power off soon. It’ll be dark up there.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean work’ll stop. Are you gonna want me to bring your breakfast to you tomorrow or do you think you can come to the Big House?”
“Big House,” was his reply before I lost sight of him as I went back upstairs.
I managed to do a little more cleaning and I put a clean set of sheets on top of each bed. I’ll put them on tomorrow. Pillows are another matter. Don’t know where they are or if the guests – whomever they may be – bring their own. Same for towels. There were none in the linen closet and there aren’t enough in the bathroom if the rooms are going to be filled to capacity. I’ll clean the downstairs public room tomorrow, same as for the Big House. I plan on showering and washing my hair tomorrow too. I don’t want to have to figure out how to do that with only one bathroom and the rest of the rooms filled with guys. There were always separate facilities in Scouts – actually that was the rules – same for the Group Home and the foster homes I was in. How this is going to work with only one bathroom is going to be more interesting that I’m probably going to care for. So with all that to do tomorrow, I’m climbing in bed.
Note to self: I was right. There’s more people gonna be coming and going around here than at the Group Home. I’m not sure I want to deal with all these people but that’s the job. So … add to the play book that Serafine is Fabrice’s and the dumbtastic duo’s mother. She had Fontaine (short for Fontainebleau) when she was 13 and he’s fourteen now, Franc (short for Francois) when she was 14, meaning she is only 27. Fabrice is a puny 7 years old which tells me she probably got caught with him after her Nexplanon insert ran out or soon after anyway. Or maybe she is just stupid. Might be where the boys get it from.
Second note to self: Father Damboue is a counselor at the local Family Life Center. Beyond that I have no clue. I just hope Aunt Orélie doesn’t get it into her head that I need any counseling from him. I’ve had all of that kind of stuff I want. I am not traumatized and I’m not confused about who or what I am. Life sucks and I’m me and I don’t have too much trouble understanding either one of those things. It’s other people that have the problems getting those two concepts.
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Kathy, I posted on a Reddit forum your name (Kathy in Florida) for folks looking for pandemic prep guidance based on your fictional stories. The Corona virus sure does have folks spooked. Hope your trip is going well.
Chapter 17 (part 1)
Picked a fine day to wash my hair. The hot water was out. And my hair is the least of it. Try cleaning with no hot water. But I didn’t find that out until I switched to cleaning the Old House. My day started in the Big House.
I’ve gotten used to making do for myself with little, nothing, or something more than that. On a few memorable occasions sometimes less than that; like that time we had the Senior Webelos along and they didn’t latch the trailer or the coolers and we came back from a hike to find World War 3 going on between the racoons and squirrels who were fighting over the contents of our trailer. Man that was a mess … and the most upset I ever saw my crew members. Lucky for them our troop always padlocks a few extry-type ingredients in a spare cook box in case we need to make a pot go a little further … or in case someone burns their meal too bad to eat.
I got used to dealing with mishaps, forgotten ingredients, and other assorted disasters right alongside cranky boys during Scouts. But I have to say this is the first time I was making do for a man and myself alone. Not sure how Sarge felt but for myself it was too something … intimate I guess is the best word though it is an embarrassing one that says stuff that I don’t particularly mean. Take that back, I know how Sarge felt. He was in pain. He is trying to cut himself off from the pain meds and having a hard time of it.
I got to the Big House right as Aunt Orélie was leaving.
“Sugar, ain’t much in the ice box but some odds and ends. Someone …,” she glared at Fabrice. “Got into the food last night while everyone else was abed.”
Fabrice’s innocent expression wasn’t quite as believable as he meant it to be.
“If you have to get into the pantry cabinets then go on ahead. Use the master key. Just go light handed. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to be stuck with Emerick if he didn’t get fed. Boy gets the hangries and that’s a fact.” She sailed out after that declaration, dragging Fabrice like a useless anchor, leaving me to wonder what I had gotten signed up for.
Knowing putting it off wasn’t an option I went over to the refrigerator and opened it up to find a lot of space and not much content. And the light bulb is out. Out on purpose is my guess since I found it unscrewed just enough to keep it from coming on. I suggested some child-proof locks on things to Aunt Orélie when she got back from the school and she said she would “think about it” which might be her usual answer when it comes to Fabrice and his brothers. Her choice and her problem but it better not become mine. I don’t like them brothers none even on short acquaintance and don’t give me they’ll “improve with age” or any other kind of stupid saying. I met too many kids that were rotten and determined to stay that way, so I’m not too convinced those three are going to change. We had those locks in the group home and in all the foster homes I was in for a reason and not just because a lot of kids deal with their issues by sneaking food.
In the refrigerator was some leftover rice, a bit of mixed vegetables, some sandwich fixings, an egg, and a couple of pieces of bacon. Wasn’t much but what it did look like to me were the ingredients for Breakfast Fried Rice. At least after I took out the sandwich fixings which I set aside for lunch, assuming I could find something that looked like a loaf of bread. The only thing missing was soy sauce and I knew where I could get that. From all those condiment packets I got forever and ago when I first met Sarge. I ran over to the Old House, grabbed what I needed, then knocked on Sarge’s door calling, “Breakfast in 30!”
Breakfast Fried Rice is just about what you would expect it to be. Fried rice with scrambled eggs and bacon dices mixed in. For good measure and to clean out the frig so I could get all the dishes washed at the same time I threw in the leftover veggies too. It takes more time to explain it than fix it and I was dumping it onto two plates when in stumbled Grumpy Gator. I set his plate in front of him and the first thing out of his mouth was, “Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?”
“That a complaint? Because if you don’t want it then just say so. Don’t make me work at translating this early in the morning.”
He gave me the evil eye but picked up his fork and cautiously started eating. I did the same over by the sink as I was cleaning the mess I had made.
“Kid?”
I turned to look at him and he surprised me by saying, “I’m foul this morning, but not at you. Thanks for breakfast. It’s good.”
“Little bit left. Want it?”
“Did you eat?”
“In the process.”
He scowled then asked, “You don’t want to set?”
“Cleaning.”
He sighed like he really regretted his earlier attitude. “I don’t mean to run you off.”
Willing to give in if it kept me from having to add a name to the list of people I’m fighting I said, “Huh? Oh. You didn’t. Well a little. But mostly I got a buttload of crapwork to get done because of the extra people coming tomorrow and I’m trying to fit in a list of other things that I’ve been told needs doing. Aunt Orélie specially wants all the baseboards and ceiling molding scrubbed of dust and scuffs. Sitting doesn’t get any of that done faster.”
He forked another mouthful in and chewed slowly before swallowing and saying, “You mind some advice?”
I shrugged.
“Take five when you have the chance to. You don’t, you gonna wind up wishin’ you had. Get too tired, make dumb mistakes. Make dumb mistakes and they might get you injured. Compredendre?”
I nodded but I had already finished my plate o’ food and it was time to get busy. I’d been cleaning the kitchen as I went so it was just a quick wash up and I asked him to leave his plate on the table and I would get it on my next pass. I’d already found the cleaning cart with all the stuff on it I was gonna need and rolled it to the first of the rooms that needed attention … the “library,” or at least that is the plaque that is on the door. And the plaque got polished too. All the plaques got polished … library, conference room, music room, game room, etc and yada. Floors got mopped (dust- and damp-), chased a few dust bunnies and cobwebs, and in general wiped down the things that hadn’t been wiped down in a bit like headboards, light fixtures, and the top of the headboards. I did get the scrubbing done that I was asked to do but I’m gonna need to make a pass with a paint brush in a couple of places to get the worst of the remaining scuff marks and I don’t know if there is paint in the work shed or not. I guess Aunt Orélie is so busy cooking and keeping the kitchen up that the rest of it has got away from her. Or maybe her help really was as useless as she said.
I didn’t touch Aunt Orélie’s room or the little closet sized space that Fabrice lives in. Considering there isn’t much in there but a twin bed and a chest o’ drawers there shouldn’t have been a mess, but there was. Boy is just flat out lazy. Someone needs to fix that, but it isn’t my job. I’m not his Momma and I’m not looking for a kid to raise. The one thing that I always liked about being a Den Chief for the Cubbies is that I gave ‘em back at the end of the meeting to their parents … most of whom were right there anyway since that is the way that Cubbies is supposed to work. Parental involvement is what they call it. Whatever, it just means that if their kids talked smack, acted like a little jerk, and got in trouble no one could say they hadn’t because there were too many witnesses. Every once in a while I’d run into a Den Leader that thought I was being too rough on ‘em – boys and girls. I’d tell them all I was doing was helping them to become a scout I’d be happy to have in our troop. After a few of the Cubs were un-invited to Scouting events because of behavior the problem kids and parents either got it or they didn’t. Scouts isn’t for everyone and it sure isn’t for a kid that can’t follow directions or keep their mouth shut long enough that someone can come help them with the directions.
I was thinking about how we’d dealt with some of the “problem-child” types in our troop as I swung by and found that Sarge had washed his own dishes. Well how-dee-do. As a thank you I decided to take him his lunch since Aunt Orélie hadn’t returned yet. Not to mention it was time to start cleaning the Old House and it was going to need more effort and elbow grease.
I had put my foot on the bottom step of the front porch when I realized what I was hearing wasn’t a wrestling match on tv. Nope. That was not foul-mouthed fans but a man in pain and creatively cursing cajun-style. I didn’t catch all of the words and phrases because he was growling and spewing French enough to leave spit everywhere but I did catch a few like “Ho Wagon,” “dykeagram,” “hemaphrodite spud rocket,” “whore monkey,” and others that are even less printable. When there was a huge bang I gave up waiting him out and ran in and then to the back to a room I found out was the place’s old kitchen and not an oversized storage room.
“Whoa!” I yelped when a hammer came flying my direction.
“Dammit Ava,” he yelped trying to stand up. “Did I hit you?!”
“Nah. And don’t get up, it looks painful. I was just bringing you some lunch when I heard you singing so sweet the birdies were falling faint from the trees.”
“Petit malin. Din nobody ever teach you not to poke the gator?”
“I like to live dangerously. What’s up?”
“My damn blood pressure. I tol’ Auntie and tol’ her that this old thing needs replacin’. You know what she say?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He opened his mouth on something more but looked at me and then started laughing. “Yeah Cher, that’s just what she said. Reckon you heard it a few times already.”
“Sure have. Uh … what’s with the … you know … super Cajun. You don’t normally talk like this do you?”
He screwed up his face and then said in a more normal tone, “Sorry. Always happens when I’m talking to the family. Spent two damn long hours on the phone with Xavier trying to avoid him telling me I needed to come home.”
“Er … you don’t want to? Doesn’t your brother have an electric business or something.”
“Nah Cher. I mean he does have mon Pere’s business, now his business. And he’s good at it so I ain’t gonna say he ain’t. But it isn’t a job he is offering. More like … ‘come on home Em, it’ll give you something to do than to sit around feeling sorry for yourself.’ And I’d go and first I’d just be doing him a favor so no paycheck. Then it’d be I owe him so no paycheck. Then it’d be something else and something else after that until his workload gets cut, then I’ll get cut and start hearing I been living on their dime long enough and it is time for me to grow on up and get a job instead of expectin’ them to carry me along. Been there, done that a few times. Finally wised up and ain’t doing it again. So long as Orélie don’t scoot my butt out and down the road I’m sticking here. Ain’t like there isn’t real work for me to do and at least I’ll be paying my own way without someone always sayin’ I owe ‘em.”
A little curious despite it not being my business I asked, “Um … what about your Mom?”
He made a face before letting me hand him his plate right where he sat on the floor. I sat there too. “I was what you call one of them unplanned things that happen to women sometimes right when they think they’re through with the whole thing. You know what I mean?”
After I unscrambled his weird explanation I said, “Er … yeah. You were a menopause baby. Your mom’s hormones caught her flat-footed.”
“Cooo, ain’t you a cool one,” he said on a laugh that told me he wasn’t quite over whatever happened when he got around his family. “Yeah, that’s what happened. But I gotta give Momma credit. Another woman mighta gone to see a doctor about it. Not her. She just tol’ mon Pere that since it was his fault, he could be the one that raised me, diapers and bottles on up. And that’s the way it was. Momma she done had one for her and she had one for him. Done and done. Jus’ mon pere was 50 when I was born and … and I still could wish he was here.”
“Yeah. I wish my Dad was here too. Mom and Lalli – that was my sister – too but I guess most of all I miss my brother DJ. Dad was good to us. Mom too though she … didn’t understand me and blamed herself for me being different from Lalli.”
“Que voulez-vous dire?”
“I mean that Lalli was a girl type of girl. And while I’m a girl I’m not into all the girly stuff like Lalli and Mom. I followed DJ around and he let me. Dad didn’t care one way or the other because I guess some women in his family were like that. Mom … eh, not so much but Dad and Mom were always busy working to keep food on the table and I was a few years younger than the others. Lalli couldn’t find the time … but DJ made the time.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to sound pathetic and was ready to change the subject. “So, tell me what I can do to help with the ‘misbegotten bastard of a bi-polar gator.”
He snorted, “Not much can be done. Heating element is out for good this time, and the tank has a pinhole leak someplace on the bottom.”
That’s when I noticed the rusty swish marks on the wooden floor where he must have mopped up the water enough to get some work done without electrocuting himself.
I tell him, “That thing needs a pan … or the new one does anyway. How long has it been leaking and am I going to have to replace the flooring before a new one can be installed.”
He gives me a look then says, “Hard to say on the floor. There must be ten layers of linoleum on this end of the kitchen. Not even sure if there is real floor underneath this mess.”
Picked a fine day to wash my hair. The hot water was out. And my hair is the least of it. Try cleaning with no hot water. But I didn’t find that out until I switched to cleaning the Old House. My day started in the Big House.
I’ve gotten used to making do for myself with little, nothing, or something more than that. On a few memorable occasions sometimes less than that; like that time we had the Senior Webelos along and they didn’t latch the trailer or the coolers and we came back from a hike to find World War 3 going on between the racoons and squirrels who were fighting over the contents of our trailer. Man that was a mess … and the most upset I ever saw my crew members. Lucky for them our troop always padlocks a few extry-type ingredients in a spare cook box in case we need to make a pot go a little further … or in case someone burns their meal too bad to eat.
I got used to dealing with mishaps, forgotten ingredients, and other assorted disasters right alongside cranky boys during Scouts. But I have to say this is the first time I was making do for a man and myself alone. Not sure how Sarge felt but for myself it was too something … intimate I guess is the best word though it is an embarrassing one that says stuff that I don’t particularly mean. Take that back, I know how Sarge felt. He was in pain. He is trying to cut himself off from the pain meds and having a hard time of it.
I got to the Big House right as Aunt Orélie was leaving.
“Sugar, ain’t much in the ice box but some odds and ends. Someone …,” she glared at Fabrice. “Got into the food last night while everyone else was abed.”
Fabrice’s innocent expression wasn’t quite as believable as he meant it to be.
“If you have to get into the pantry cabinets then go on ahead. Use the master key. Just go light handed. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to be stuck with Emerick if he didn’t get fed. Boy gets the hangries and that’s a fact.” She sailed out after that declaration, dragging Fabrice like a useless anchor, leaving me to wonder what I had gotten signed up for.
Knowing putting it off wasn’t an option I went over to the refrigerator and opened it up to find a lot of space and not much content. And the light bulb is out. Out on purpose is my guess since I found it unscrewed just enough to keep it from coming on. I suggested some child-proof locks on things to Aunt Orélie when she got back from the school and she said she would “think about it” which might be her usual answer when it comes to Fabrice and his brothers. Her choice and her problem but it better not become mine. I don’t like them brothers none even on short acquaintance and don’t give me they’ll “improve with age” or any other kind of stupid saying. I met too many kids that were rotten and determined to stay that way, so I’m not too convinced those three are going to change. We had those locks in the group home and in all the foster homes I was in for a reason and not just because a lot of kids deal with their issues by sneaking food.
In the refrigerator was some leftover rice, a bit of mixed vegetables, some sandwich fixings, an egg, and a couple of pieces of bacon. Wasn’t much but what it did look like to me were the ingredients for Breakfast Fried Rice. At least after I took out the sandwich fixings which I set aside for lunch, assuming I could find something that looked like a loaf of bread. The only thing missing was soy sauce and I knew where I could get that. From all those condiment packets I got forever and ago when I first met Sarge. I ran over to the Old House, grabbed what I needed, then knocked on Sarge’s door calling, “Breakfast in 30!”
Breakfast Fried Rice is just about what you would expect it to be. Fried rice with scrambled eggs and bacon dices mixed in. For good measure and to clean out the frig so I could get all the dishes washed at the same time I threw in the leftover veggies too. It takes more time to explain it than fix it and I was dumping it onto two plates when in stumbled Grumpy Gator. I set his plate in front of him and the first thing out of his mouth was, “Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça?”
“That a complaint? Because if you don’t want it then just say so. Don’t make me work at translating this early in the morning.”
He gave me the evil eye but picked up his fork and cautiously started eating. I did the same over by the sink as I was cleaning the mess I had made.
“Kid?”
I turned to look at him and he surprised me by saying, “I’m foul this morning, but not at you. Thanks for breakfast. It’s good.”
“Little bit left. Want it?”
“Did you eat?”
“In the process.”
He scowled then asked, “You don’t want to set?”
“Cleaning.”
He sighed like he really regretted his earlier attitude. “I don’t mean to run you off.”
Willing to give in if it kept me from having to add a name to the list of people I’m fighting I said, “Huh? Oh. You didn’t. Well a little. But mostly I got a buttload of crapwork to get done because of the extra people coming tomorrow and I’m trying to fit in a list of other things that I’ve been told needs doing. Aunt Orélie specially wants all the baseboards and ceiling molding scrubbed of dust and scuffs. Sitting doesn’t get any of that done faster.”
He forked another mouthful in and chewed slowly before swallowing and saying, “You mind some advice?”
I shrugged.
“Take five when you have the chance to. You don’t, you gonna wind up wishin’ you had. Get too tired, make dumb mistakes. Make dumb mistakes and they might get you injured. Compredendre?”
I nodded but I had already finished my plate o’ food and it was time to get busy. I’d been cleaning the kitchen as I went so it was just a quick wash up and I asked him to leave his plate on the table and I would get it on my next pass. I’d already found the cleaning cart with all the stuff on it I was gonna need and rolled it to the first of the rooms that needed attention … the “library,” or at least that is the plaque that is on the door. And the plaque got polished too. All the plaques got polished … library, conference room, music room, game room, etc and yada. Floors got mopped (dust- and damp-), chased a few dust bunnies and cobwebs, and in general wiped down the things that hadn’t been wiped down in a bit like headboards, light fixtures, and the top of the headboards. I did get the scrubbing done that I was asked to do but I’m gonna need to make a pass with a paint brush in a couple of places to get the worst of the remaining scuff marks and I don’t know if there is paint in the work shed or not. I guess Aunt Orélie is so busy cooking and keeping the kitchen up that the rest of it has got away from her. Or maybe her help really was as useless as she said.
I didn’t touch Aunt Orélie’s room or the little closet sized space that Fabrice lives in. Considering there isn’t much in there but a twin bed and a chest o’ drawers there shouldn’t have been a mess, but there was. Boy is just flat out lazy. Someone needs to fix that, but it isn’t my job. I’m not his Momma and I’m not looking for a kid to raise. The one thing that I always liked about being a Den Chief for the Cubbies is that I gave ‘em back at the end of the meeting to their parents … most of whom were right there anyway since that is the way that Cubbies is supposed to work. Parental involvement is what they call it. Whatever, it just means that if their kids talked smack, acted like a little jerk, and got in trouble no one could say they hadn’t because there were too many witnesses. Every once in a while I’d run into a Den Leader that thought I was being too rough on ‘em – boys and girls. I’d tell them all I was doing was helping them to become a scout I’d be happy to have in our troop. After a few of the Cubs were un-invited to Scouting events because of behavior the problem kids and parents either got it or they didn’t. Scouts isn’t for everyone and it sure isn’t for a kid that can’t follow directions or keep their mouth shut long enough that someone can come help them with the directions.
I was thinking about how we’d dealt with some of the “problem-child” types in our troop as I swung by and found that Sarge had washed his own dishes. Well how-dee-do. As a thank you I decided to take him his lunch since Aunt Orélie hadn’t returned yet. Not to mention it was time to start cleaning the Old House and it was going to need more effort and elbow grease.
I had put my foot on the bottom step of the front porch when I realized what I was hearing wasn’t a wrestling match on tv. Nope. That was not foul-mouthed fans but a man in pain and creatively cursing cajun-style. I didn’t catch all of the words and phrases because he was growling and spewing French enough to leave spit everywhere but I did catch a few like “Ho Wagon,” “dykeagram,” “hemaphrodite spud rocket,” “whore monkey,” and others that are even less printable. When there was a huge bang I gave up waiting him out and ran in and then to the back to a room I found out was the place’s old kitchen and not an oversized storage room.
“Whoa!” I yelped when a hammer came flying my direction.
“Dammit Ava,” he yelped trying to stand up. “Did I hit you?!”
“Nah. And don’t get up, it looks painful. I was just bringing you some lunch when I heard you singing so sweet the birdies were falling faint from the trees.”
“Petit malin. Din nobody ever teach you not to poke the gator?”
“I like to live dangerously. What’s up?”
“My damn blood pressure. I tol’ Auntie and tol’ her that this old thing needs replacin’. You know what she say?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He opened his mouth on something more but looked at me and then started laughing. “Yeah Cher, that’s just what she said. Reckon you heard it a few times already.”
“Sure have. Uh … what’s with the … you know … super Cajun. You don’t normally talk like this do you?”
He screwed up his face and then said in a more normal tone, “Sorry. Always happens when I’m talking to the family. Spent two damn long hours on the phone with Xavier trying to avoid him telling me I needed to come home.”
“Er … you don’t want to? Doesn’t your brother have an electric business or something.”
“Nah Cher. I mean he does have mon Pere’s business, now his business. And he’s good at it so I ain’t gonna say he ain’t. But it isn’t a job he is offering. More like … ‘come on home Em, it’ll give you something to do than to sit around feeling sorry for yourself.’ And I’d go and first I’d just be doing him a favor so no paycheck. Then it’d be I owe him so no paycheck. Then it’d be something else and something else after that until his workload gets cut, then I’ll get cut and start hearing I been living on their dime long enough and it is time for me to grow on up and get a job instead of expectin’ them to carry me along. Been there, done that a few times. Finally wised up and ain’t doing it again. So long as Orélie don’t scoot my butt out and down the road I’m sticking here. Ain’t like there isn’t real work for me to do and at least I’ll be paying my own way without someone always sayin’ I owe ‘em.”
A little curious despite it not being my business I asked, “Um … what about your Mom?”
He made a face before letting me hand him his plate right where he sat on the floor. I sat there too. “I was what you call one of them unplanned things that happen to women sometimes right when they think they’re through with the whole thing. You know what I mean?”
After I unscrambled his weird explanation I said, “Er … yeah. You were a menopause baby. Your mom’s hormones caught her flat-footed.”
“Cooo, ain’t you a cool one,” he said on a laugh that told me he wasn’t quite over whatever happened when he got around his family. “Yeah, that’s what happened. But I gotta give Momma credit. Another woman mighta gone to see a doctor about it. Not her. She just tol’ mon Pere that since it was his fault, he could be the one that raised me, diapers and bottles on up. And that’s the way it was. Momma she done had one for her and she had one for him. Done and done. Jus’ mon pere was 50 when I was born and … and I still could wish he was here.”
“Yeah. I wish my Dad was here too. Mom and Lalli – that was my sister – too but I guess most of all I miss my brother DJ. Dad was good to us. Mom too though she … didn’t understand me and blamed herself for me being different from Lalli.”
“Que voulez-vous dire?”
“I mean that Lalli was a girl type of girl. And while I’m a girl I’m not into all the girly stuff like Lalli and Mom. I followed DJ around and he let me. Dad didn’t care one way or the other because I guess some women in his family were like that. Mom … eh, not so much but Dad and Mom were always busy working to keep food on the table and I was a few years younger than the others. Lalli couldn’t find the time … but DJ made the time.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to sound pathetic and was ready to change the subject. “So, tell me what I can do to help with the ‘misbegotten bastard of a bi-polar gator.”
He snorted, “Not much can be done. Heating element is out for good this time, and the tank has a pinhole leak someplace on the bottom.”
That’s when I noticed the rusty swish marks on the wooden floor where he must have mopped up the water enough to get some work done without electrocuting himself.
I tell him, “That thing needs a pan … or the new one does anyway. How long has it been leaking and am I going to have to replace the flooring before a new one can be installed.”
He gives me a look then says, “Hard to say on the floor. There must be ten layers of linoleum on this end of the kitchen. Not even sure if there is real floor underneath this mess.”
Chapter 17 (part 2)
My turn to make a face. “Are there snakes under the house?”
“Non … snake bait keeps ‘em out. Why?”
“Because with my luck there is a floor truss under that spot and if you are going to put in a new water tank the least I can do is make sure it doesn’t fall through and make both of us a bigger job.”
I went to stand up but he grabs my arm and pulls me back down. “Cher you didn’t listen this morning. Finish your food. Take a break. Then we can go out there and have a look. You keep going like this you’re going to wear yourself out before you hit twenty. And here’s another thing. Orélie is my Auntie and I love the old woman … but she’ll use you for as long as you let her. Comprendre ce que je veux dire?”
“She seems all right,” I told him, not wanting to get caught bad-mouthing someone that had that much power over where my next meal was coming from.
“She is that. I’m not saying she’s bad. She’s just used to having her way and the older she gets the more used to it she gets. And when Orélie wants something … it is today or yesterday, not tomorrow or the next. Most the time she remembers to be reasonable, but not always. So, you get a chance to take five, you take five … for four, three, or two. You remember to look after yourself, too few people in this world will.”
I’ve filed that bit of advice into the “stuff to remember” area of my brain. I’ve got other stuff in there like “be prepared” and “do a good turn daily” and all the Scout laws that keep me on the straight and narrow. Also “real friends are few and far between,” “no one gets promised tomorrow,” and “you never know when your last goodbye is going to be the last time you ever get to say goodbye.” Sarge might occasionally remind me of trouble to avoid but I’m thinking that isn’t his usual and that he is just a good guy with a mess on his hands right now. Reckon it is no skin off my nose to give him grace since I’ll likely need it too.
Lunch eaten I got back to my to do list and one of them was checking under the Old House for more to add to Orélie’s List. Like I needed more but nothing like keeping myself in a job. Sarge insisted on coming and keeping an eye on me but he did it from a chair by the piece of lattice skirt I took off so I could get into the crawl space.
I came out just shaking my head.
“That bad Cher?”
“Aunt Orelie has a problem on her hands all right. I even know how to fix it. And I can even do it myself. But it is gonna cost. But if she doesn’t do something quick, she’s not gonna like what happens. I can already tell she’s had people up under here replacing wood the last couple of years. Most of it is good work though there’s a couple places that still needs doing. You’re in luck though because nearly the whole floor under the kitchen has been fixed … maybe within the last year or two. The work isn’t old that’s for sure.”
“Explain it to me.”
“There’s a moisture problem.”
“Cher the whole state has a ‘moisture problem’. I need more than that if I’m gonna explain it to Auntie.”
I snorted. “Yeah. We have the same problem in Florida which is one of the reasons they switched from crawl spaces to slab foundation on houses. What I mean is this place has more than 18% damp in the wood … some places I can make a dent with my nail which means it is up over 25%. Even the new wood has it. It needs to be encapsulated but can’t do that until the humidity level is brought down. Need to lay heavy gauge plastic on the ground down there to make a vapor barrier and then set a couple of big fans to dry things out down below 18%. After that happens you put spray foam down there … two inches of closed-cell stuff. Don’t let her go with someone that says the spray is going to be enough because what happens is it traps the moisture in the wood and you wind up with a bigger problem than you start with … mold, mildew, rot, and after time the foam just falls off the wood anyway.”
“And you know this how?”
“My dad was a contractor remember? Plus, I had a man that gave me all the crapwork I could handle during certain times of the year. I also know how to re-roof a flat roof and you don’t do it with rolled roofing that’s for sure. Does this place flood during a rain?”
“Nah. Couple of French drains run it to the retention pond … where the turtle was.”
“Yeehaw and all that. Probably the only reason there aren’t more problems than there are.” I stood up and brushed myself off. “I gotta get this place clean before Aunt Orélie decides it is inspection time and thinks I’ve been shirking off. You sure you don’t need some help?” I asked as I helped him to stand.
“Nah Cher. Not until I can convince her the repair needs to be done.”
“Yeah, and you’re gonna need to do your convincing fast too. All them extra people are getting here tomorrow.”
He cursed ‘cause he’d forgotten and slowly limped his way over to the Big House after telling me that Aunt Orélie had driven in while I was in the crawl space.
The rest of the day was scrubbing and cleaning trying to make the Old House look less old and a little more welcoming than someplace full of haunts and spooks. Sure enough Aunt Orélie came to check up on me and then sat me down to have a talk.
“Girl you sure you ain’t Henley’s doppleganger? Because if I’m lying I’m dying, I swear if he didn’t say the exact same thing you did. He’s the one that did mos’ of the work under this house. Always giving me a look every time he had to fix something under there. Shoulda had it done when he recommended it. Now I’m gonna have to pay a contractor to do it.”
“Why? Is it something you have to be licensed for around here?”
“Non. Henley was going to do it and for cheaper.”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s covered in my contract … one of those any and all statements I think. And I know how to do it. It is just a matter of getting the stuff to do the job with.”
She blinked at me like a startled owl. “You sure Child?”
“Sure I’m sure. I’ve done it before without complaint. My brother and I helped my dad a few times … his specialty was older homes … plus I did similar jobs for a … well technically the man didn’t hire me, but he paid me in barter under the table to do some of his scut work on job sites. He was a man that worked with my dad and would occasionally throw me a bone ‘cause I used to be small and could get into places his men couldn’t. And sometimes he preferred me for some things to keep a job cheaper. His son and I were in Scouts together. I can give you his name if you need references.”
“Non. You help Em with the hot water tomorrow – he’s gone off to try and get the parts now – and if he says your work is good we’ll see about the other starting next week. Bon?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’m just gonna check upstairs as I see you still working down here.” That’s when I asked her about towels and pillows and she said guests bring their own but that I’d need to spray everything down starting on Monday as she heard from someone at some place called the “Lunch Box” that people that are renting out space to some of the military and national guard types are having trouble with bed bugs.
“Check the chemicals in the work shed, just don’t be too obvious with your spraying. Don’t need gossip to start. We got it better here than most and don’t need to lose that for lack of caution. Now what all did you use out of the pantry so I can put it on the grocery list.”
“Nothing. I just used up the leftovers in the frig.”
“You did not.” My face must have said something I didn’t mean to let show. “No Child, I’m not insulting you. Just you tell me how you did that and Em actually walk around like he’s a man and not a swamp critter.”
So I explained the Breakfast Fried Rice and sandwiches and she smiled. “You’ll do. But you come over before the skeeters come out and get you something more to eat. I knew after a day like I was gonna have I wasn’t gonna feel like cookin’ so I got us burgers from Angelle’s. That’ll make Em happy as I got him two plus fries. Boy is a bottomless pit.” But she was laughing when she said it so it must not be a bad thing. “And before too much longer I want you to get into them boxes of Henley’s I know there’s some tools and such in there as the boxes are heavy but the police have them all taped shut so I’m not for sure what’s in ‘em. Lord only knows if they bothered to take care with the stuff or if there’s things spoiled in amongst it all.”
She sailed off … but it was a slow sail telling me whatever kind of day she’d had it had tired her out … and I finished my work thinking about all the things I have to do. On the one hand Orélie’s List sure isn’t getting any shorter. On the other hand, it means I have work if I want it for at least a couple of months, maybe longer if I can keep the Orélie and the Trust lawyers happy.
Cold showers I can handle but my hair needed a good wash and that I don’t like doing in the cold. My hair isn’t quite as short as it used to be either which means more time drying and fixing it so it’ll stay out of my way. All I used to need was a hat or a few bobby pins, but I got enough to make a bonafide ponytail now. Problem with that is as the hair grows out so do the stupid curls. My hair isn’t as kinky-curly as Lalli’s and Mom’s, but I don’t do cute no matter how much Mom tried to arrange my sausage curls for Sunday church. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it but guess let it get longer for a bit and see how irritated I get with it. Just so long as I can shove it up under a hat I guess I don’t need to worry about it.
What I do need to worry about is some new socks and under clothes. I’ve never been vain or want anything more than some simple cotton undies – you can’t hide that stuff real well in foster care when everyone is in your business – but I’m not fond of commando either.
I’ve already got Orelie’s List, now it looks like I need to make an Ava’s List too. That sucks.
My turn to make a face. “Are there snakes under the house?”
“Non … snake bait keeps ‘em out. Why?”
“Because with my luck there is a floor truss under that spot and if you are going to put in a new water tank the least I can do is make sure it doesn’t fall through and make both of us a bigger job.”
I went to stand up but he grabs my arm and pulls me back down. “Cher you didn’t listen this morning. Finish your food. Take a break. Then we can go out there and have a look. You keep going like this you’re going to wear yourself out before you hit twenty. And here’s another thing. Orélie is my Auntie and I love the old woman … but she’ll use you for as long as you let her. Comprendre ce que je veux dire?”
“She seems all right,” I told him, not wanting to get caught bad-mouthing someone that had that much power over where my next meal was coming from.
“She is that. I’m not saying she’s bad. She’s just used to having her way and the older she gets the more used to it she gets. And when Orélie wants something … it is today or yesterday, not tomorrow or the next. Most the time she remembers to be reasonable, but not always. So, you get a chance to take five, you take five … for four, three, or two. You remember to look after yourself, too few people in this world will.”
I’ve filed that bit of advice into the “stuff to remember” area of my brain. I’ve got other stuff in there like “be prepared” and “do a good turn daily” and all the Scout laws that keep me on the straight and narrow. Also “real friends are few and far between,” “no one gets promised tomorrow,” and “you never know when your last goodbye is going to be the last time you ever get to say goodbye.” Sarge might occasionally remind me of trouble to avoid but I’m thinking that isn’t his usual and that he is just a good guy with a mess on his hands right now. Reckon it is no skin off my nose to give him grace since I’ll likely need it too.
Lunch eaten I got back to my to do list and one of them was checking under the Old House for more to add to Orélie’s List. Like I needed more but nothing like keeping myself in a job. Sarge insisted on coming and keeping an eye on me but he did it from a chair by the piece of lattice skirt I took off so I could get into the crawl space.
I came out just shaking my head.
“That bad Cher?”
“Aunt Orelie has a problem on her hands all right. I even know how to fix it. And I can even do it myself. But it is gonna cost. But if she doesn’t do something quick, she’s not gonna like what happens. I can already tell she’s had people up under here replacing wood the last couple of years. Most of it is good work though there’s a couple places that still needs doing. You’re in luck though because nearly the whole floor under the kitchen has been fixed … maybe within the last year or two. The work isn’t old that’s for sure.”
“Explain it to me.”
“There’s a moisture problem.”
“Cher the whole state has a ‘moisture problem’. I need more than that if I’m gonna explain it to Auntie.”
I snorted. “Yeah. We have the same problem in Florida which is one of the reasons they switched from crawl spaces to slab foundation on houses. What I mean is this place has more than 18% damp in the wood … some places I can make a dent with my nail which means it is up over 25%. Even the new wood has it. It needs to be encapsulated but can’t do that until the humidity level is brought down. Need to lay heavy gauge plastic on the ground down there to make a vapor barrier and then set a couple of big fans to dry things out down below 18%. After that happens you put spray foam down there … two inches of closed-cell stuff. Don’t let her go with someone that says the spray is going to be enough because what happens is it traps the moisture in the wood and you wind up with a bigger problem than you start with … mold, mildew, rot, and after time the foam just falls off the wood anyway.”
“And you know this how?”
“My dad was a contractor remember? Plus, I had a man that gave me all the crapwork I could handle during certain times of the year. I also know how to re-roof a flat roof and you don’t do it with rolled roofing that’s for sure. Does this place flood during a rain?”
“Nah. Couple of French drains run it to the retention pond … where the turtle was.”
“Yeehaw and all that. Probably the only reason there aren’t more problems than there are.” I stood up and brushed myself off. “I gotta get this place clean before Aunt Orélie decides it is inspection time and thinks I’ve been shirking off. You sure you don’t need some help?” I asked as I helped him to stand.
“Nah Cher. Not until I can convince her the repair needs to be done.”
“Yeah, and you’re gonna need to do your convincing fast too. All them extra people are getting here tomorrow.”
He cursed ‘cause he’d forgotten and slowly limped his way over to the Big House after telling me that Aunt Orélie had driven in while I was in the crawl space.
The rest of the day was scrubbing and cleaning trying to make the Old House look less old and a little more welcoming than someplace full of haunts and spooks. Sure enough Aunt Orélie came to check up on me and then sat me down to have a talk.
“Girl you sure you ain’t Henley’s doppleganger? Because if I’m lying I’m dying, I swear if he didn’t say the exact same thing you did. He’s the one that did mos’ of the work under this house. Always giving me a look every time he had to fix something under there. Shoulda had it done when he recommended it. Now I’m gonna have to pay a contractor to do it.”
“Why? Is it something you have to be licensed for around here?”
“Non. Henley was going to do it and for cheaper.”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s covered in my contract … one of those any and all statements I think. And I know how to do it. It is just a matter of getting the stuff to do the job with.”
She blinked at me like a startled owl. “You sure Child?”
“Sure I’m sure. I’ve done it before without complaint. My brother and I helped my dad a few times … his specialty was older homes … plus I did similar jobs for a … well technically the man didn’t hire me, but he paid me in barter under the table to do some of his scut work on job sites. He was a man that worked with my dad and would occasionally throw me a bone ‘cause I used to be small and could get into places his men couldn’t. And sometimes he preferred me for some things to keep a job cheaper. His son and I were in Scouts together. I can give you his name if you need references.”
“Non. You help Em with the hot water tomorrow – he’s gone off to try and get the parts now – and if he says your work is good we’ll see about the other starting next week. Bon?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’m just gonna check upstairs as I see you still working down here.” That’s when I asked her about towels and pillows and she said guests bring their own but that I’d need to spray everything down starting on Monday as she heard from someone at some place called the “Lunch Box” that people that are renting out space to some of the military and national guard types are having trouble with bed bugs.
“Check the chemicals in the work shed, just don’t be too obvious with your spraying. Don’t need gossip to start. We got it better here than most and don’t need to lose that for lack of caution. Now what all did you use out of the pantry so I can put it on the grocery list.”
“Nothing. I just used up the leftovers in the frig.”
“You did not.” My face must have said something I didn’t mean to let show. “No Child, I’m not insulting you. Just you tell me how you did that and Em actually walk around like he’s a man and not a swamp critter.”
So I explained the Breakfast Fried Rice and sandwiches and she smiled. “You’ll do. But you come over before the skeeters come out and get you something more to eat. I knew after a day like I was gonna have I wasn’t gonna feel like cookin’ so I got us burgers from Angelle’s. That’ll make Em happy as I got him two plus fries. Boy is a bottomless pit.” But she was laughing when she said it so it must not be a bad thing. “And before too much longer I want you to get into them boxes of Henley’s I know there’s some tools and such in there as the boxes are heavy but the police have them all taped shut so I’m not for sure what’s in ‘em. Lord only knows if they bothered to take care with the stuff or if there’s things spoiled in amongst it all.”
She sailed off … but it was a slow sail telling me whatever kind of day she’d had it had tired her out … and I finished my work thinking about all the things I have to do. On the one hand Orélie’s List sure isn’t getting any shorter. On the other hand, it means I have work if I want it for at least a couple of months, maybe longer if I can keep the Orélie and the Trust lawyers happy.
Cold showers I can handle but my hair needed a good wash and that I don’t like doing in the cold. My hair isn’t quite as short as it used to be either which means more time drying and fixing it so it’ll stay out of my way. All I used to need was a hat or a few bobby pins, but I got enough to make a bonafide ponytail now. Problem with that is as the hair grows out so do the stupid curls. My hair isn’t as kinky-curly as Lalli’s and Mom’s, but I don’t do cute no matter how much Mom tried to arrange my sausage curls for Sunday church. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it but guess let it get longer for a bit and see how irritated I get with it. Just so long as I can shove it up under a hat I guess I don’t need to worry about it.
What I do need to worry about is some new socks and under clothes. I’ve never been vain or want anything more than some simple cotton undies – you can’t hide that stuff real well in foster care when everyone is in your business – but I’m not fond of commando either.
I’ve already got Orelie’s List, now it looks like I need to make an Ava’s List too. That sucks.
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sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Big Thank you.
Made it around Cape Horn day before yesterday so I got to check something off the old Bucket List. Also managed to make it onto the Falkland Islands before weather shut things down. Wow. What an incredible place. But not especially fond of the weather they consider "normal." Caused a trip delay hadn't expected and our connectivity there was completely nul. Made me feel deaf. Anyway we're back on track and hopefully I'll be able to post about some of our experiences in a couple of days. For now … here's Ava.
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Chapter 18
Been a crazy few days. Helped Sarge install the hot water tank and the only thing he grouched about was the fact that I had to do all the heavy lifting.
Getting irritated at him trying to do my job and his I asked him, “Do you want your back and leg to get all the way well or only part way?”
“Ava … not in the mood.” I tried to say something more and he asked, “You want me to go back to calling you Caneton?”
“Call me what you want to Grouchy, but you got blown up and maybe almost dead. It is going to take more than a few days to fix that. Or do you think you should only give advice and not take it?”
Since he seems even less fond of having his own words thrown back at him than I am things settled down after that. Plus, he found out – girl or not - I’m strong.
“And I can open jars in one twist too,” I told him laughing when he was surprised I didn’t need a knife to cut off some of the plastic packaging off of the supplies.
He shook his head and said, “You crazy Girl, and that’s a fact.”
“Meh. I was on the archery team in high school … or I was until I had to change schools my senior year. That will give you some hand and arm strength for a fact. It sucked when I had to change school and the new one didn’t have a team. But, I’m not sorry to see the other side of all of that to be honest. My last year sucked.”
“Wait … you haven’t finished school have you,” he said getting thoughtful.
Getting a gander at the expression on his face I said, “I’ll get around to finishing … maybe a GED or something … but college wasn’t ever something I was going to get to do. Tech school maybe but I was hoping for some kind of apprenticeship. I … I admit I hadn’t figured it all out before things went crazy. Too many stupid walls between me and what most people my age expect out of life, and I’m not fond of running headfirst into something hard over and over again with no good result. Creates headaches I can’t afford the medicine for.” When his expression changed I added, “And I don’t want your pity either so knock it off.”
“Ain’t pity so don’t think like that. Just wondering.”
“Do I want to know what about?”
“Most girls … nah, never mind.”
“You mean most girls in my place would go looking for a guy to fix life for them? Yeah. I’ve seen too much of that stupid and vaccinated myself against it as soon as the law allowed.”
“Huh?”
“I got an implant so even if I do get stupid, I don’t get pregnant. I’ve avoided it up to now but there’s always a first time.”
I could see I’d shut him up for a second then he got his second wind. “Dumbest damn conversation I’ve had in a while but … you didn’t have a … er … boyfriend along the way?”
“You asking about my sexual orientation?” I laughed at how red his ears got. “Look, I’m straight. I’ve had a lot of people question that, and a few adults try and tell me I’m just confused or whatever, but I know what I am even if most people don’t want to believe me. And I did have lots of boy friends … just not the kind you mean. The boys I knew were friends … and only friends. And taught me quick that I’ll wait until they age out of the super stupids before I go for something more than friendship. Only once was I silly enough to get moony over a guy and it was just better to stay friends with him. His family … they wouldn’t have approved.”
“Poor Caneton.”
“Keep it up Sarge and see what happens. I can be … creative … when it comes to revenge.”
He laughed like I meant him to, but he didn’t let go of the topic as I had hoped. I’m finding that Sarge, despite most of his commonsense, has a streak of do-gooder in him. I prefer doing a good turn daily for others, not it being aimed in my direction.
“Sure Cher sure. I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You really should be you know. Ask any of the scouts in my troop. And not all of the scouts were male … there were a couple of other girls too because the rules were we had to have our own patrol though our troop was a little loose on that since the other two girls were little sisters of the male scouts and sex crap was definitely not something that was not gonna happen unless the guy in question wanted to shed plenty of blood over it.”
“So … none of those boys …”
“Stop being so nosey. No. I don’t do drama if I can help it. And when I see it, I try and stomp it dead to keep it from annoying me. And for your next question … yeah, I might have liked to have had a romantic thing every once in a while but it didn’t happen and it didn’t kill me not to have it. The end. Change the subject already. That one got old and rancid a long time ago.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t guess I would want anyone asking me about it either. Auntie already worries at it too much. She says I need to hurry up and get well so she can set me up with some nice girls to pick from and get married to.”
“And that explains why you don’t listen to your doctors. You don’t want to lose your place in the Garçonnière (gar-sohn-YEHR).” That’s like a bachelor pad kind of place from the old days.
He belly laughed again. “Where you hear that ol’ phrase?”
“Something Uncle Henley used to say when Mom would ask him why he always hooked up with his girlfriends instead of looking for a woman worth marrying.” I shrugged and the sadness must have showed.
“I thought you said Henley wasn’t around much.”
“He was around a lot when I was little. He and Dad were kind of in business together but still did their own thing too. Then I went to live with him for a while before the State decided to stick me in foster care because of some lies his crazy ex-girlfriend told to get back at him. I mean I’m not going to be a hypocrite and say Uncle Henley and I were super close but … we coulda been if people would have just left things alone to work out instead of getting into our business. They even convinced Uncle Henley it was best that … oh never mind. It happened. Can’t change that. Move to the next subject.”
“Then what is it Cher?” he asked not doing what I had asked.
Trying to do it in as few words as possible so it would shut him up I admitted. “Family. The good and the bad of it. Most people just don’t know what they have. I do, only it is past-tense. I thought I could have it again only some no-good, rotten bastard killed Uncle Henley dead and he was the last chance. Ain’t no more of us.”
“No other family?”
“Probably some distant cousins or something but none that I know, or who cared to keep up with me after I got thrown in foster care, which means that I don’t care to find them. Even with Uncle Henley taking care of the old folks before they died … like my grandmother and stuff … none of them ever wrote, not even birthday or Christmas cards. Uncle Henley would say things like they asked after me but I’m pretty sure that was just him being nice. I had a couple of aunts, but I only met one of them and she died when I was little. The other one … let’s just say she didn’t want where she came from and moved off when she went away to college. Dad was so hurt by it he acted like she didn’t exist. Uncle Henley wasn’t much different. And all the ones on Mom’s side passed when I was little. Now that you know my freaking life story can we please change the subject? None of it is helping to get the hot water fixed and I still have to go tote and carry for ‘Auntie’ when the grocery and supply delivery gets here.”
Thank gawd he finally let it go. I know he probably means well but none of it changes my today and worrying at it like something can be done is just a waste of time and energy I can’t afford … and don’t want to do even if it was affordable.
And dang I thought the peeps in my troop could eat a lot of food in a weekend. Aunt Orélie explained she gets most supplies brought in monthly, but some things come in more often. Then the military sends basic stuff in as well since apparently being an officer means you get better taken care of than those MRE things a lot of the enlisted eat when there isn’t a chow line. The military also sends in what Aunt Orelie calls Lagniappe (LAN-yap) which means “a little something extra.” Like two or three times a month she can serve steak, especially if there is a colonel or higher staying over. She says if there’s enough she’ll see I get some of it too. Sounds good but I told her don’t do it if it is going to cause trouble. Steak wasn’t something that came around too often for me. Every once in a while I would get something like Salisbury Steak … which hardly qualifies as the ones I had were more like cheap hamburgers smothered in spaghetti sauce.
After that she asked me if I’d help with Thanksgiving and I said sure, helping was my job. It was weird. I’m used to people telling me what they want, not asking what I want.
“Easy Child. If you wanna work, there’s no shortage of it. And I heard from the lawyers that you checked out. People talk good about you Girl, real good. But I had to ask. Generally people want four days off at Thanksgiving and that’s in your contract.”
I need to read me that contract but in the meantime I said, “Then those people aren’t hungry enough. Those of us at the group home that didn’t have family come get us for the holidays usually joined the volunteer brigade that worked at the homeless shelters and stuff. Some of us clued in that it was a reminder where we could be if not for the State but … eh … it was good to volunteer and get a reminder I guess so we didn’t get complacent. I did that until I was old enough to work the midnight sales for Black Friday. I still helped dish up plates last year when the merchants were backing off the early sales ‘cause it wasn’t paying the bills. So … what do I need to do?”
“Not sure Child. Never had to have a holiday meal here unless it was some local group that rented the place for the day … and never Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Eve or Day. No one has put in a reservation this year, so the lawyers are trying to drum up a way to bring in extra cash as the taxes are going to start coming due. But since I got all these extra ovens and cook surfaces, we look to be cooking the good stuff to help out with whatever soldier boys and gals are in the area. Not too many of them will be going home as word has it.”
After I had finished moving stuff to the walk-in pantry and making sure it was inventoried and locked up tight I was at loose ends and decided to take a box or two of Uncle Henley’s stuff out of storage and start deciding what to do with it. I’m getting the idea from “Auntie” that she needs it out of the downstairs storage room (not a “shed” as I thought) before the lawyers come do their end-of-the-year inspection of the place.
When I went in there I found stacks of stuff labeled “Thibodeaux, H” that was followed by # of 62. Meaning there are sixty-two boxes I’m going to have to go through. Ugh. Some of it is in cardboard boxes and some in plastic tubs, all different sizes. The only thing the boxes have in common is that they are all taped shut with the same red tape that has the word “evidence” on it in black and then an extra special piece of yellow tape on top that says “crime scene.” Double ugh. The sooner I go through that stuff and can get rid of that tape the better. Reminders of what happened is not something I’m likely to be fond of. It also makes me a little worried about what is in side. But since it is my job, my responsibility, to deal with the mess left behind I got to it. I made the mistake of carrying three of the cardboard file boxes stacked on top of each other and was going up the front porch steps of the Old House when someone was coming down that also wasn’t paying attention.
“Oomph!!” and we both fell back.
Worried at first it was Sarge and he was gonna be hurt I pushed the boxes off me and started to jump up. I slowed when I saw it wasn’t him and became more cautious. Especially when Sarge stuck his head out that minute to see what the racket was and started in with the thunder clouds running across his face.
---------------------
Chapter 18
Been a crazy few days. Helped Sarge install the hot water tank and the only thing he grouched about was the fact that I had to do all the heavy lifting.
Getting irritated at him trying to do my job and his I asked him, “Do you want your back and leg to get all the way well or only part way?”
“Ava … not in the mood.” I tried to say something more and he asked, “You want me to go back to calling you Caneton?”
“Call me what you want to Grouchy, but you got blown up and maybe almost dead. It is going to take more than a few days to fix that. Or do you think you should only give advice and not take it?”
Since he seems even less fond of having his own words thrown back at him than I am things settled down after that. Plus, he found out – girl or not - I’m strong.
“And I can open jars in one twist too,” I told him laughing when he was surprised I didn’t need a knife to cut off some of the plastic packaging off of the supplies.
He shook his head and said, “You crazy Girl, and that’s a fact.”
“Meh. I was on the archery team in high school … or I was until I had to change schools my senior year. That will give you some hand and arm strength for a fact. It sucked when I had to change school and the new one didn’t have a team. But, I’m not sorry to see the other side of all of that to be honest. My last year sucked.”
“Wait … you haven’t finished school have you,” he said getting thoughtful.
Getting a gander at the expression on his face I said, “I’ll get around to finishing … maybe a GED or something … but college wasn’t ever something I was going to get to do. Tech school maybe but I was hoping for some kind of apprenticeship. I … I admit I hadn’t figured it all out before things went crazy. Too many stupid walls between me and what most people my age expect out of life, and I’m not fond of running headfirst into something hard over and over again with no good result. Creates headaches I can’t afford the medicine for.” When his expression changed I added, “And I don’t want your pity either so knock it off.”
“Ain’t pity so don’t think like that. Just wondering.”
“Do I want to know what about?”
“Most girls … nah, never mind.”
“You mean most girls in my place would go looking for a guy to fix life for them? Yeah. I’ve seen too much of that stupid and vaccinated myself against it as soon as the law allowed.”
“Huh?”
“I got an implant so even if I do get stupid, I don’t get pregnant. I’ve avoided it up to now but there’s always a first time.”
I could see I’d shut him up for a second then he got his second wind. “Dumbest damn conversation I’ve had in a while but … you didn’t have a … er … boyfriend along the way?”
“You asking about my sexual orientation?” I laughed at how red his ears got. “Look, I’m straight. I’ve had a lot of people question that, and a few adults try and tell me I’m just confused or whatever, but I know what I am even if most people don’t want to believe me. And I did have lots of boy friends … just not the kind you mean. The boys I knew were friends … and only friends. And taught me quick that I’ll wait until they age out of the super stupids before I go for something more than friendship. Only once was I silly enough to get moony over a guy and it was just better to stay friends with him. His family … they wouldn’t have approved.”
“Poor Caneton.”
“Keep it up Sarge and see what happens. I can be … creative … when it comes to revenge.”
He laughed like I meant him to, but he didn’t let go of the topic as I had hoped. I’m finding that Sarge, despite most of his commonsense, has a streak of do-gooder in him. I prefer doing a good turn daily for others, not it being aimed in my direction.
“Sure Cher sure. I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You really should be you know. Ask any of the scouts in my troop. And not all of the scouts were male … there were a couple of other girls too because the rules were we had to have our own patrol though our troop was a little loose on that since the other two girls were little sisters of the male scouts and sex crap was definitely not something that was not gonna happen unless the guy in question wanted to shed plenty of blood over it.”
“So … none of those boys …”
“Stop being so nosey. No. I don’t do drama if I can help it. And when I see it, I try and stomp it dead to keep it from annoying me. And for your next question … yeah, I might have liked to have had a romantic thing every once in a while but it didn’t happen and it didn’t kill me not to have it. The end. Change the subject already. That one got old and rancid a long time ago.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t guess I would want anyone asking me about it either. Auntie already worries at it too much. She says I need to hurry up and get well so she can set me up with some nice girls to pick from and get married to.”
“And that explains why you don’t listen to your doctors. You don’t want to lose your place in the Garçonnière (gar-sohn-YEHR).” That’s like a bachelor pad kind of place from the old days.
He belly laughed again. “Where you hear that ol’ phrase?”
“Something Uncle Henley used to say when Mom would ask him why he always hooked up with his girlfriends instead of looking for a woman worth marrying.” I shrugged and the sadness must have showed.
“I thought you said Henley wasn’t around much.”
“He was around a lot when I was little. He and Dad were kind of in business together but still did their own thing too. Then I went to live with him for a while before the State decided to stick me in foster care because of some lies his crazy ex-girlfriend told to get back at him. I mean I’m not going to be a hypocrite and say Uncle Henley and I were super close but … we coulda been if people would have just left things alone to work out instead of getting into our business. They even convinced Uncle Henley it was best that … oh never mind. It happened. Can’t change that. Move to the next subject.”
“Then what is it Cher?” he asked not doing what I had asked.
Trying to do it in as few words as possible so it would shut him up I admitted. “Family. The good and the bad of it. Most people just don’t know what they have. I do, only it is past-tense. I thought I could have it again only some no-good, rotten bastard killed Uncle Henley dead and he was the last chance. Ain’t no more of us.”
“No other family?”
“Probably some distant cousins or something but none that I know, or who cared to keep up with me after I got thrown in foster care, which means that I don’t care to find them. Even with Uncle Henley taking care of the old folks before they died … like my grandmother and stuff … none of them ever wrote, not even birthday or Christmas cards. Uncle Henley would say things like they asked after me but I’m pretty sure that was just him being nice. I had a couple of aunts, but I only met one of them and she died when I was little. The other one … let’s just say she didn’t want where she came from and moved off when she went away to college. Dad was so hurt by it he acted like she didn’t exist. Uncle Henley wasn’t much different. And all the ones on Mom’s side passed when I was little. Now that you know my freaking life story can we please change the subject? None of it is helping to get the hot water fixed and I still have to go tote and carry for ‘Auntie’ when the grocery and supply delivery gets here.”
Thank gawd he finally let it go. I know he probably means well but none of it changes my today and worrying at it like something can be done is just a waste of time and energy I can’t afford … and don’t want to do even if it was affordable.
And dang I thought the peeps in my troop could eat a lot of food in a weekend. Aunt Orélie explained she gets most supplies brought in monthly, but some things come in more often. Then the military sends basic stuff in as well since apparently being an officer means you get better taken care of than those MRE things a lot of the enlisted eat when there isn’t a chow line. The military also sends in what Aunt Orelie calls Lagniappe (LAN-yap) which means “a little something extra.” Like two or three times a month she can serve steak, especially if there is a colonel or higher staying over. She says if there’s enough she’ll see I get some of it too. Sounds good but I told her don’t do it if it is going to cause trouble. Steak wasn’t something that came around too often for me. Every once in a while I would get something like Salisbury Steak … which hardly qualifies as the ones I had were more like cheap hamburgers smothered in spaghetti sauce.
After that she asked me if I’d help with Thanksgiving and I said sure, helping was my job. It was weird. I’m used to people telling me what they want, not asking what I want.
“Easy Child. If you wanna work, there’s no shortage of it. And I heard from the lawyers that you checked out. People talk good about you Girl, real good. But I had to ask. Generally people want four days off at Thanksgiving and that’s in your contract.”
I need to read me that contract but in the meantime I said, “Then those people aren’t hungry enough. Those of us at the group home that didn’t have family come get us for the holidays usually joined the volunteer brigade that worked at the homeless shelters and stuff. Some of us clued in that it was a reminder where we could be if not for the State but … eh … it was good to volunteer and get a reminder I guess so we didn’t get complacent. I did that until I was old enough to work the midnight sales for Black Friday. I still helped dish up plates last year when the merchants were backing off the early sales ‘cause it wasn’t paying the bills. So … what do I need to do?”
“Not sure Child. Never had to have a holiday meal here unless it was some local group that rented the place for the day … and never Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Eve or Day. No one has put in a reservation this year, so the lawyers are trying to drum up a way to bring in extra cash as the taxes are going to start coming due. But since I got all these extra ovens and cook surfaces, we look to be cooking the good stuff to help out with whatever soldier boys and gals are in the area. Not too many of them will be going home as word has it.”
After I had finished moving stuff to the walk-in pantry and making sure it was inventoried and locked up tight I was at loose ends and decided to take a box or two of Uncle Henley’s stuff out of storage and start deciding what to do with it. I’m getting the idea from “Auntie” that she needs it out of the downstairs storage room (not a “shed” as I thought) before the lawyers come do their end-of-the-year inspection of the place.
When I went in there I found stacks of stuff labeled “Thibodeaux, H” that was followed by # of 62. Meaning there are sixty-two boxes I’m going to have to go through. Ugh. Some of it is in cardboard boxes and some in plastic tubs, all different sizes. The only thing the boxes have in common is that they are all taped shut with the same red tape that has the word “evidence” on it in black and then an extra special piece of yellow tape on top that says “crime scene.” Double ugh. The sooner I go through that stuff and can get rid of that tape the better. Reminders of what happened is not something I’m likely to be fond of. It also makes me a little worried about what is in side. But since it is my job, my responsibility, to deal with the mess left behind I got to it. I made the mistake of carrying three of the cardboard file boxes stacked on top of each other and was going up the front porch steps of the Old House when someone was coming down that also wasn’t paying attention.
“Oomph!!” and we both fell back.
Worried at first it was Sarge and he was gonna be hurt I pushed the boxes off me and started to jump up. I slowed when I saw it wasn’t him and became more cautious. Especially when Sarge stuck his head out that minute to see what the racket was and started in with the thunder clouds running across his face.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you 
Chapter 19
“You damn fool! Watch where you’re going! I tol’ you yeah. You didn’t have to run like that! How many times you gotta be told to mind your p’s and q’s?!”
“Me?! I’s walking like a sane man when some le sot gets in my way!”
I wasn’t fond of what he’d called me and decided to defend myself. “Watch it Jerk. I admit maybe I coulda been a little more careful, but you weren’t exactly paying attention either. So back it off.”
The guy turned, looked at me, blinked, and then jumped like he’d been goosed. He yelped, “Il est une fille!
I rolled my eyes having seen the reaction more than a few times in my life. I stacked the boxes back up praying there was nothing breakable in them and then carried them into my room while the guy started squawking. I only caught one word in five he was talking so fast, but I did hear something to the effect that Grand-Père was gonna be fache (fa-shay, meaning angry) and turn him into bigarno (escargot).
Coming out I stopped the noise by asking Sarge, “Who is his grandfather, and why is he going to be mad enough to turn him into a snail?”
Sarge didn’t know whether to keep being mad or laugh at the look on the guy’s face.
“Julius, and you’re supposed to be the carrot that let’s them use the pirogue to go hunting.” At my disbelieving look he finally caved and chuckled. “You wanna come hunting with us on Sunday?”
“Don’t I need a license or something?”
Sarge gave a small shrug. “For a reason Edgars got you one when he got your residence papers.”
I know the score and I’m not stupid. Something was up. I crossed my arms and asked, “How much did that cost me? And how am I supposed to pay for it?”
Sarge nodded and said, “The amount that Henley had on deposit to get his hunting and fishing license renewed. He was set to renew it on December first, this way you cain’t ask for the money back. It was US dollars and not local scrip so it would have hurt the department to try and give it back to you is what I’m guessing. It shoulda been in that packet he gave Aunt Orélie to give to you.”
I have got to finish reading all those papers in that pile and I’ve started on it tonight. Gawd my head is spinning.
“So I’m legal to go hunting on Sunday?”
“Sure are Cher. And if you say you gonna bring Auntie back what you can …”
Finally getting it I said, “Okay, so long as it is legit and she’s not going to need me.”
“You get Sundays off.”
“I just started,” I objected.
From around the corner of the house came the woman in question and she said, “That’s sweet Child but the men up at the house know Sundays are quiet. Most of them jus’ play lazy hounds and lay about the place unless they have meetings goin’ in the conference room. And then it is even quieter with no cee-vilians allowed around. You go on and have you some fun. And if you can bring back something that’ll be nice, real nice.”
She sailed away and I turned to Sarge who was trying not to smile. I sighed. “So, am I a legitimate invite or just for to get the boat?”
“Legit,” he said. “But …”
Knowing what he was going to say since that Sarge-with-a-cause look popped onto his face I said, “I have my Rifle and Shotgun merit badges and several proficiencies above that. And I already told you about archery. None of that is the problem. The problem is no rifle, no shotgun, not bow, and only super basic fishing gear.”
“You got fishing gear?” he asked, plainly surprised.
“Small tackle only. I won it in a fishing competition a couple of years ago during summer camp.”
The guy finally butted in and asked a stupid question. “Yeah but can you use it and take care of what you catch?” Okay not a stupid question, but it made me look stupid which didn’t make me any happier with him.
“I like to eat, and everyone had to take a turn in the kitchen,” I told him since it was obvious he refused to be ignored. What I didn’t mention was the group home, foster homes, or some of what I’d eaten on the way here. A girl needs secrets.
“Bon.” He turned to Sarge and said, “I’ll let Grand-Père know.” He then vaulted off the porch and took off at a run which turned Sarge cranky again.
Trying to distract him I said, “Well since I’ll have to at least pretend to know who that was, can you at give me a name to hang on him?”
Sarge did not want to be charmed back into a good mood. He snorted, “I’d keep you away from him if I thought I could but you’re going to prove too interesting to Thibaut (pronounced T-Boe).”
“And why should that be?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.
“Because you are not the usual kind of female his mother and other aunties throw at his head.”
I shook my head. “I never have understood why guys always go after girls they can’t take home to mother and why the girls in question always fall for guys they can’t have. It’s stupid.”
“Been burned a time or two have you?”
Well his memory isn’t long is it. I let him get away with it by simply saying, “Nope. Saw the fire once and decided it was too hot to mess with.
I was about to tell Sarge that I was heading back to the Big House and that I’d bring him his dinner here if he wanted when I heard someone running up and thought Thibaut was back. Before I could turn around I heard, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Staff Sergeant Emeric Jeansonne.”
“You damn fool! Watch where you’re going! I tol’ you yeah. You didn’t have to run like that! How many times you gotta be told to mind your p’s and q’s?!”
“Me?! I’s walking like a sane man when some le sot gets in my way!”
I wasn’t fond of what he’d called me and decided to defend myself. “Watch it Jerk. I admit maybe I coulda been a little more careful, but you weren’t exactly paying attention either. So back it off.”
The guy turned, looked at me, blinked, and then jumped like he’d been goosed. He yelped, “Il est une fille!
I rolled my eyes having seen the reaction more than a few times in my life. I stacked the boxes back up praying there was nothing breakable in them and then carried them into my room while the guy started squawking. I only caught one word in five he was talking so fast, but I did hear something to the effect that Grand-Père was gonna be fache (fa-shay, meaning angry) and turn him into bigarno (escargot).
Coming out I stopped the noise by asking Sarge, “Who is his grandfather, and why is he going to be mad enough to turn him into a snail?”
Sarge didn’t know whether to keep being mad or laugh at the look on the guy’s face.
“Julius, and you’re supposed to be the carrot that let’s them use the pirogue to go hunting.” At my disbelieving look he finally caved and chuckled. “You wanna come hunting with us on Sunday?”
“Don’t I need a license or something?”
Sarge gave a small shrug. “For a reason Edgars got you one when he got your residence papers.”
I know the score and I’m not stupid. Something was up. I crossed my arms and asked, “How much did that cost me? And how am I supposed to pay for it?”
Sarge nodded and said, “The amount that Henley had on deposit to get his hunting and fishing license renewed. He was set to renew it on December first, this way you cain’t ask for the money back. It was US dollars and not local scrip so it would have hurt the department to try and give it back to you is what I’m guessing. It shoulda been in that packet he gave Aunt Orélie to give to you.”
I have got to finish reading all those papers in that pile and I’ve started on it tonight. Gawd my head is spinning.
“So I’m legal to go hunting on Sunday?”
“Sure are Cher. And if you say you gonna bring Auntie back what you can …”
Finally getting it I said, “Okay, so long as it is legit and she’s not going to need me.”
“You get Sundays off.”
“I just started,” I objected.
From around the corner of the house came the woman in question and she said, “That’s sweet Child but the men up at the house know Sundays are quiet. Most of them jus’ play lazy hounds and lay about the place unless they have meetings goin’ in the conference room. And then it is even quieter with no cee-vilians allowed around. You go on and have you some fun. And if you can bring back something that’ll be nice, real nice.”
She sailed away and I turned to Sarge who was trying not to smile. I sighed. “So, am I a legitimate invite or just for to get the boat?”
“Legit,” he said. “But …”
Knowing what he was going to say since that Sarge-with-a-cause look popped onto his face I said, “I have my Rifle and Shotgun merit badges and several proficiencies above that. And I already told you about archery. None of that is the problem. The problem is no rifle, no shotgun, not bow, and only super basic fishing gear.”
“You got fishing gear?” he asked, plainly surprised.
“Small tackle only. I won it in a fishing competition a couple of years ago during summer camp.”
The guy finally butted in and asked a stupid question. “Yeah but can you use it and take care of what you catch?” Okay not a stupid question, but it made me look stupid which didn’t make me any happier with him.
“I like to eat, and everyone had to take a turn in the kitchen,” I told him since it was obvious he refused to be ignored. What I didn’t mention was the group home, foster homes, or some of what I’d eaten on the way here. A girl needs secrets.
“Bon.” He turned to Sarge and said, “I’ll let Grand-Père know.” He then vaulted off the porch and took off at a run which turned Sarge cranky again.
Trying to distract him I said, “Well since I’ll have to at least pretend to know who that was, can you at give me a name to hang on him?”
Sarge did not want to be charmed back into a good mood. He snorted, “I’d keep you away from him if I thought I could but you’re going to prove too interesting to Thibaut (pronounced T-Boe).”
“And why should that be?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.
“Because you are not the usual kind of female his mother and other aunties throw at his head.”
I shook my head. “I never have understood why guys always go after girls they can’t take home to mother and why the girls in question always fall for guys they can’t have. It’s stupid.”
“Been burned a time or two have you?”
Well his memory isn’t long is it. I let him get away with it by simply saying, “Nope. Saw the fire once and decided it was too hot to mess with.
I was about to tell Sarge that I was heading back to the Big House and that I’d bring him his dinner here if he wanted when I heard someone running up and thought Thibaut was back. Before I could turn around I heard, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Staff Sergeant Emeric Jeansonne.”
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Many thanks