55. Finding Noel

The moving men stuffed the last box into the van. I took a sad walk around the house that I thought I would live in forever. But life changes, for good or bad, whether we want it or not. The rooms were empty and scuffed looking. I'd come back tomorrow to give it a good vacuuming for its new owners. They were probably excited about moving in and getting settled before Christmas. They wouldn't even notice what I'd done. Oh, well, I would know I had done my best. I looked out the kitchen door at the tiny, snow covered back yard.

I leaned my forehead on the cool glass and sighed. I glimpsed movement below me on the porch. A scrawny, gray and white kitten scratched to get in. I tapped on the glass. His enormous green eyes looked up at me. I could hardly hear the 'mowr' from his pink, opened mouth showing tiny milk teeth.

I tugged the door open. The fur ball hesitated and then with a burst of energy flung himself in as if escaping from a ferocious dog. He wrapped himself around my legs, meowing softly. Now what? I had to go. I needed to be at the new condo to let the movers in. The little guy looked clean. I petted him and he purred like a lion. I could feel his ribs. Was he hungry? I had no food to give him. He had no collar. No ID. But it was below freezing. I couldn't kick him back out in the cold maybe to starve.

He snuggled into my chest when I picked him up. I made a snap decision, hoping it wouldn't be another major mistake. I'd take him with me and when I came back to vacuum, I'd stick up posters in the neighborhood about finding a kitten.

I put him in the tote bag that held my purse and cell phone, grabbed my keys and shut the door on what I had thought would be the perfect home for Jason and me. When I signed the papers I was so much in love I didn't care that it was just in my name. Jason was between jobs and he said he'd just bring down my credit rating. He was so cute, so loving, so attentive. He even brought home a bottle of champagne for the first night in our new home. I think that was the last thing he ever bought.

At first I didn't mind. It's hard for an actor to find jobs that fit his abilities. And my job as an under writer at an insurance company paid all our bills. But I noticed that he never went out for casting calls. His dirty dishes were all around the house. He didn't even carry them to the kitchen sink. I tried to be understanding and considerate. But when I did his laundry--he didn't know how to use a washing machine--I found lipstick on his T-shirts. I was so naïve, I thought it was blood or ketchup. Until I smelled stale perfume that I didn't use.

I took the next afternoon off work, came home and gave him $50 to have a 'nice lunch' with his friends. I shoved his clothes, CDs, Men magazines, and other junk in his duffle bag and put it outside the front door. I put a note on top saying I never wanted to see or hear from him again.

Then I put the dead bolts on the doors and cleaned every nook and cranny to get rid of any sign or smell of him. When it got dark I didn't turn on the lights and took a long, herb scented bath by candle light. I closed my eyes in the soothing water and listened to an audio book, “How to live without a man.” I planned to give it a good review on amazon.com.

Jason came home from 'lunch' around 10 p.m. He banged on the door and yelled until he found my note. I guess he was still sober enough to read. For he picked up his stuff and went back to the bus stop. The next day I put my little 'love nest' on the market and looked for a condo for one, near my job.

I stepped on the gas to get to the one I found before the movers got there. As I drove past all the houses decorated with holiday lights and wreaths, I wished the families inside a Merry Christmas even though I wouldn't be having one.

In the condo, I put the kitten in the bathroom until the movers left. I filled a small box with shredded paper and hoped he'd understand it was his 'litter box.' This little guy was going to be a lot of work. Maybe I had made another error in judgment.

When the movers were gone, I let Noel out. I apologized for giving him a cliché name for a Christmas cat, but I had to call him something. And I pointed out to him, he probably had a real name with a real family who'd come and get him as soon as I put up the 'found kitten' notices. So it didn't matter what I called him. He just looked at me and rubbed against my legs.

There were boxes every where. Noel walked around sniffing everything he could reach. I got two bowls out of the 'kitchen' box and filled one with water. Luckily I had already stocked the kitchen with a few groceries and was able to put some canned tuna in the bowl. Noel started meowing loudly as soon as he smelled the fish. He almost fell in the dish when I put it down. But every few seconds, he stopped gobbling to look up at me and purr. At last there was a male in the house who showed gratitude if nothing else.

I made up my queen sized bed. Thank heavens, I hadn't been able to afford a huge king size when Jason and I moved in together. The acres of emptiness would be even more lonely. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and climbed into bed after a glass of milk and a tuna sandwich of my own.

My mind whirled reliving the past few weeks. Christmas was in a few more days and I was alone...

I heard the pad of tiny feet, felt the bed jar as Noel jumped up. He meowed softly, turning it into a purr as he nestled his warm, soft body next to my back. Now I had something else to worry about. What if someone tried to claim Noel?

                                                                     The End

50. Cruising in France

I looked around the small cheerful cabin. The perky blue and yellow Provence print on the bedspreads, curtains, and desk chair echoed the style of the French countryside we'd soon be sailing through. Outside the wide window I could see steps leading up from the concrete dock to the road which ran alongside the Rhone river. I sat down on one of the two twin beds and considered my options. I could unpack, or go to the sun deck to watch the crew cast off, or I could go right to the bar and order a stiff drink, or just curl up in a ball and wait to meet the stranger I would be living with for seven days.

 

Emma, the oldest of my four children, who made the arrangements, urged me to ask for a travel partner. Not because a double was cheaper than the single supplement, but because she thought I needed someone to talk to. Although I didn't really want a room mate, I knew it would be less expense for my children who were paying for this French river cruise. Even if the person was difficult I only had to be in the cabin to shower, dress and sleep.

My husband Carl and I had always dreamed of traveling once the children were through school. I mused on how life has a way of changing the best laid plans. It had been three years since a fatal car accident had interrupted ours. He was only 53 and with our last child out of college we had been looking forward to life without tuition bills. I didn't want to go on this cruise, but my children wanted to give me a special gift for my 55^th birthday and thought it would be good for me to get away from my memories. But your memories travel with you.

A bustling out in the hall interrupted my day dreams. The door opened and a man carrying a huge overnight case stumbled in. He looked at me. “I'm sorry. I must be in the wrong room.”

I looked up at him. “This is cabin 224.”

He looked down at the sheets of paper in his hand. “That's where I'm supposed to be.” He stared at me. “You aren't Robin are you?”

“Yes, I am. Are you Frances?”

“This happens to me, all the time. Yes, my name is Francis, but spelled with the male i not the female e. The tour company's computer made a typo.” He gave me a shy smile, “And I thought Robin was a British nickname for Robert.”

“I'm not British.”

“And you're not a Robert either.”

The tour company must have thought we were both females when they matched us up. Well, I wasn't going to spend a week in the same cabin with a male stranger--no matter how nice or even how good looking. Oh, my friend Jenny would love to hear about this. She was always reading romantic novels.

He dumped his suitcase and said, “Come on, let's see the purser or whoever and get this straightened out.”

Fortunately, there was a gentleman traveling alone who was willing to share his cabin for a substantial reduction in price. Francis moved his bag from the room saying, “It's a small boat, I'm sure we'll see each other again.”

That evening I changed into fresh black pants with a black and white silk blouse. And since I was in France, I tied a red scarf around my neck. When I walked into the small bar that evening for a pre dinner drink to calm my nerves, Francis waved me over to his table. I went over but hoped he wasn't going to assume we were now joined in some special way.

He explained he was supposed to be with his brother, but his brother got sick at the last minute. Nothing serious just a flare up of shingles. So the tour company, thinking Francis was female, put him with the first available passenger, who happened to be me. We laughed and both said, “Small world,” when we discovered we lived in St. Louis, including his brother, but had never met until this cruise.

Francis taught French and history at a Catholic high school, which is one of the reasons he was on the trip. Jenny would have been disappointed, as no romance kindled as the result of the name mix-up. Francis was friendly to everyone on the trip and translated when we needed help bargaining with the merchants along the river. It was a wonderful trip and everyone shared interesting travel stories. My children would be happy when I reported that I had enjoyed myself.

The next to last day on the ship was a Sunday and the daily bulletin announced there would be a Catholic Mass celebrated on the sundeck. When I got up there I found out why there had been no romantic overtures from Francis, not that I wanted or expected any. He was the priest presiding at the service.

At lunch, he apologized to those of us at his table, “I'm sorry I didn't tell all of you I was a priest but I've found that people are usually more comfortable not knowing.”

“You certainly looked like a different man in your vestments. I almost didn't recognize you. Is your brother a priest, too?” I asked.

“No. He was a happily married man until his wife died a few years ago after a long fight with cancer. I was hoping he would have some fun on this trip. I think stress made the shingles pop out. But I do have good news.”

“Great, I love good news.”

“Paul sent me an email saying he had recovered from the shingles and would meet me in Paris so we could continue our driving trip to Belgium.”

“That is wonderful news.” I was happy for the brothers.

“Robin, I know you'll be in Paris for the few days included at the end of the tour. I hope you'll be open to meeting Paul and maybe having dinner with us one night.”

“If he's as good a talker as you are, I'll sure it will be a fun evening.” Hmmm. Maybe I'll have something interesting to tell Jenny after all.

                                                                        The End

36. Entertaining Strangers

I thought there was something unusual about the couple my husband invited to stay with us. They acted like newly weds, always touching each other. On the arms, shoulders, back, even laying a palm lovingly on a cheek, facial at least, not lower down. Gordon, my husband, told me Clark had been married for 30 years. I guess it wasn't unheard of for long time married couples to be affectionate in public, but it was different from how our other long time married friends acted. Of course, Clark was visually impaired so maybe he made up for it with the sense of touch.
      But Gordon was losing his sight due to macular degeneration and he wasn't always touching me. Oh well, as someone once said, 'different strokes for different folks.'
      Gordon met Clark during a special Braille conference up in San Francisco for people who had serious vision problems. Here in the Palm Springs area we were lucky to have a local Braille facility which offered activities and training for the blind and visually impaired. Through this facility Gordon had been offered a “scholarship” to the conference, which included transportation and living expenses. He was randomly assigned to share a room with Clark and they became friendly over many long conversations together.
      During one of these 'talkathons' as Gordon termed them, Clark commented, “You're a lucky man. You live in one of the most beautiful resort areas in the world.”
      “You and your wife should come down and visit us. We have an extra bedroom and a swimming pool.”
      Clark demurred, “Oh, we wouldn't want to take advantage of your hospitality.”
      “No, it wouldn't be any trouble. My wife, Betty, can drive so we can visit interesting places and restaurants.” Gordon was a kind and generous man. And when he later told me that Clark and his wife would be visiting us soon, I seconded his invitation. Although it would have been nice if Gordon had asked me first before offering my services as chamber maid, chef, and chauffer.
      We picked them up at the airport and I drove all of us home. They seemed like nice people, friendly and enthusiastic. I had laid in lots of groceries for some easy cook meals and put fresh, fragrant smelling flowers in the guest room and bath. I was happy to do whatever I could to make feel at home.
      They were only staying for a long weekend, from Friday to Monday, but I wasn't getting younger. Although I was an active oldster, 73 on my last birthday, entertaining was tiring.
      Since Norma, Clark's wife, could drive I lent her my car so they could go off on their own occasionally. It was nice to see how much in love they were after all these years. Their last night with us, I made my special beef stroganoff and a lemon meringue pie. We had lots of lemons from our own trees, quite a treat for a New England girl like me.
      Gordon and I recently celebrated our 50^th anniversary and our kids had put together a photo album of our history together. It was in the living room on our tile topped coffee table. After dinner we were sitting there enjoying after dinner drinks of lemoncello, also a treat made by me. Norma picked up the album to look through it.
      She commented, “This is a wonderful book. And your children were very thoughtful to put it together for you.”
      I smiled. “I guess they wanted to honor our 50 years without a murder charge.”
      Clark looked down at our colorful Mexican striped rug and murmured, “Fifty years is a long time, especially today.”
      Gordon, trying to be tactful, said, “But you two have been married for quite a number of years, too.”
      Norma laughed and said, “Not really. We're not married. I just met Gordon at our town's senior center a few weeks before he went to the Braille conference.”
      My Catholic mind reeled as I realized I was entertaining two people living in sin. Trying to be broad minded, I knew it wasn't that unusual now days, even at our advanced age.
      Gordon sputtered on, “But Clark, I'm sure you mentioned a wife. You talked about a wife. Are you really not married.”
      Clark looked chagrined. “Oh, I'm married all right. My wife's name is Nora, not Norma.”
      “But where's your wife?” I demanded.
      “She's home babysitting the grandchildren.” Clark explained. “She thinks I'm down here visiting a Braille friend, which I am.”
     “We're so glad you invited Clark.” Norma beamed. “It was a wonderful opportunity for us to have some time alone together.”
      I stiffened. I had been knocking myself out entertaining two adulterers, helping them to deceive an innocent wife.
      I politely excused myself and went to my bedroom to read and steam until Gordon came in.
      “Oh my God, Betty, I had no idea they weren't man and wife. He never told me she wasn't his wife.  I just assumed she was.” Gordon knew I was upset.
      I gritted my teeth and snapped out, “Well, thank God, they're leaving early tomorrow. I couldn't bear to spend any more time with them. I'll dial the cab company.  You can arrange to have them picked up in the morning for their ride to the airport. I'm staying here til they're gone.”
      The Bible says you should always be kind to strangers, because you might be entertaining angels unaware. It never said anything about the possibility of them being lying, cheating devils.
                                                                The End