I spun around.
“Your door was open and I called and I called. I even used
my ‘foghorn’ voice. But you didn’t answer.”
I let out my breath and brushed self-consciously at my
cheeks. “Hi, Edith,” I said. “You startled me.”
She eyed me for a moment--my reddened eyes. The obvious tear tracks down my cheeks. “You did invite me. Didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“I could hear you talking to someone, so I knew you were
here.” She looked around, puzzled. “You were
talking to someone, weren’t you?”
I sighed. Okay, I know that Cousin Edith is my closest
relative apart from she-who-is-everywhere-but-cannot-be-seen. But let’s face it.
Hers wasn’t the face I was hoping to see.
“Oh, this is for you.” She held out a basket. “I’m assuming,
anyways. It was on your front step.”
I peered at it suspiciously. “On my front step?”
“Yeah. I figured someone must have left it there. It was in
a pretty obvious ‘trip-over-me’ location.” She looked around. “Where do you
want me to put it?”
I blinked. “What’s in it?”
She set the basket on the table and we pawed through it
together.
“Huh. Pre-cooked turkey. Pre-cooked potatoes and vegetables.
Pre-cooked everything!” I held up a small, stone crock. “Even pre-cooked . . .”
my voice caught, “. . . Swedish meatballs.” I felt a bright stab of . . .
something that approached both pain and happiness. “Whoever sent this
definitely knows me. This is my idea of Christmas dinner!”
Cousin Edith finished sorting through the packages. “Look! Some
nice, rum-filled chocolates to end with.”
“Or start with.” I reached for the box, deftly slit the cellophane
wrapping and flipped the lid to the table. Yes. I have to admit, I’ve done this
before. “Want some?”
Cousin Edith balled up plump fists and waved them excitedly.
“Ooooh! Maybe just one.”
You have to know that, for women like us, ‘just one’ could
mean many things. Just one chocolate. Or, more likely, just one row or, better
yet, one layer.
Half an hour later, I foiled the last chocolate's escape attempt, catching it before it could roll to the floor. Cradling
it in my hand, I sat back and muzzily surveyed the room. My cousin nearly
comatose in the chair opposite, the empty chocolate box upside-down on the
floor between us, and Reggie looking at both of us in patented bird-disgust.
He ruffled his feathers, clicked his beak and croaked out, “Smelly
old broad!”
I threw the chocolate at him and he squawked and said
something rude.
I turned away and slumped down comfortably in my chair, certain I was supposed to be
doing something. But not caring one whit if it ever got done.
“Ohhhh, my head!” Edith said.
“My stomach!” I said in much the same tone.
Party animals, we’re not.
“I’ll get the Tums.” I got to my feet, then gripped the arm
of the chair I had been sitting in as the room assumed a parabolic swing.
“And maybe a cool cloth for my head?” Edith said, hopefully.
I nodded carefully, then with equal care, started toward the
kitchen. Halfway across the room, I stopped. Listened. I looked at Cousin Edith.
“Did you hear that?”
She looked up at me a bit blearily. “Hear what?”
“Never mind.” I continued across the room and flipped the
door back.
Norma straightened from in front of the oven and glared at
me. “When I sent this food, I didn’t mean to see it left here on the table to
decompose!”
I stopped breathing and just stood there, staring, the
effects of my recent close encounter with rum draining away.
She lifted the chocolate box lid and looked around for the
chocolates. “I see the most important things got taken care of.”
“Norma?” My words had a hard time getting past my tight
throat. “Norma?”
She smiled and spread her arms wide. “Surprise!”
My legs felt rubbery as I gingerly crossed the kitchen. I
reached out and touched her shoulder. “Norma?”
“Merry Christmas, Sis!”
I wrapped my arms around her plump form and squeezed. “Norma!”
She hugged me, patting my back as I took a sobbing breath.
Then I gripped her by the shoulders and held her away so I could look at her. “Are
you all right? Do you need to bathe? Are you . . . hungry?” Okay, yes, I guess
you could say my mind was justifiably firing in many different directions.
She laughed. “I’m fine, to answer your first question. Yes,
I could use a bath. They don’t have them over there, but they don’t really seem
to be needed. And I’m planning on sharing this . . .” she glanced over the pre-prepared
dinner sitting on the table, “. . . erm . . . feast with you and Cousin Edith.”
“Norma?”
We both turned. Cousin Edith was standing in the doorway. The
expression on her face must have been a mirror image of mine.
“Hi, Cousin Edith!” Norma said, brightly. “Merry Christmas!”
Edith isn’t made of the same stern stuff as me.
Edith fainted . . .
Christmas dinner happened. Probably not as fancy as feasts in
other homes.
Or as plentiful.
But, though at least one member of the party was rather peaked-looking,
I don’t think there was another celebration that was as happy.
Funny how you don’t really appreciate something—or someone—until
they are taken from you.
Fortunately for me, Norma was returned.
Much the same as she had always been.
“Mama’s home, Baby!” she said brightly as she reached into
the cage for her looney handful of beak and feathers.
Reggie danced up her arm to her shoulder, sat there a
moment, blinking and bobbing, then reached out and bit her on the ear, drawing
a bright drop of blood.
“I love you, too, sweetie,” Norma crooned.
Yep. Much as she had always been.
Weird old bird.
Enjoying this episode of the Sputterling
Sisters?
Catch up with them here:
Coming Home
Use Your Words is the
brainchild of Karen at Baking in a Tornado.
A writing challenge with
a twist. Each participant contributes a set of words.
And then Karen
re-issues those words to someone else in the group.
It’s fun.
And challenging!
My words this month decompose
~ foghorn ~ location ~ pursue
came to me from:
Thank you, my friend!
Now hurry over and see what the other challengers have done!
