Love in the Lights

The woman whose laughter I had come to live for.

"Tim?"

Looking up from the patterns on the tablecloth my finger had been absently tracing, I saw them both looking at me. Mom looked sad and worried.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I smiled at her even though I didn't feel like smiling. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was just a long drive. I've been sitting for hours; I think I'll go take a short walk.

Mom nodded, and turned back to her cooking. She opened the oven to look inside. She shifted the casserole pan of marshmallow-covered sweet potatoes to one side to make room for something else. A small, square pan covered in aluminum foil.

"Well, don't be too long. Your grandparents and your Uncle Bill and his new wife will be here anytime," she told me as she shut the oven door.

"Are they all staying the night?" I asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

"Yep. Sorry, but it looks like you will be sleeping on the couch." She gave me an apologetic shrug.

I felt the loss of my room then. For the first time really the fact that the bedroom I had called my own, for nearly fifteen years, was now just another bedroom. Mom and Dad had turned my room into a guest room for his parents the week I had left for college. It had been Dad's way of telling me we love you but you're out of the nest.

"Oh, nonsense!" said Mrs. Emma, from by the sink where she was icing a carrot cake. "I have a spare room over at my place he can use while he is here."

Mom looked over at Mrs. Emma, with a frown. "I don't want him to be intruding on you."

"Oh, poo. I have that whole empty house to myself. He's more than welcome to stay." She looked over at me and smiled. "No loud music or drunken parties unless you invite me first."

We laughed, and then after a moment more of watching them cooking, I got up to go take my walk. I didn't really feel like taking one, but there was just too much in my head at the moment. It wouldn't let me sit still. Shrugging back on my coat, I made my way out into the backyard. Gone were the swing sets of my youth. Faint wafts of steam escaped from under a puffy cover on the new hot tub Dad had ordered. Ordered and never gotten to use. In fact, I didn't think anyone had used it... till I smelled a whiff of chlorine. Maybe Mom had been soaking to try and relax away some of her depression.

Just walking aimlessly, I left the steaming tub, and made my way to the garage. Why there? I don't know, but when I saw my old car under its cover I knew why. I had come to say hello to a friend. Or, as I let my hand rest on the fender of the Buick, maybe to pay my respects. The motor had blown up maybe seven months after I got the car, and had been sitting here ever since then. Looking over at a nearby table, I saw the layer of dust on the boxes of new car parts. Mr. Jackson had told me he would come over to help me tear down the engine, and show me how to rebuild it.

He never got that chance.

Looking up into the rafters, I saw where mom had made Dad move the plastic lawn people after she had sprained her ankle tripping over a shepard. They had all been banished out here, poor Mary, Joseph, and Frosty. Out here in the cold with only my dead car for company. I had the idle thought that they must be wondering when they were going out to the front lawn.

I heard the crunch of tires on the driveway.

Looking out the door, I saw Grandpa pull his Cadillac into the driveway. He probably had the new one already. He traded in his car every year. Had since long before I was born. As I walked towards them I saw the side door open and Grandma struggling to get out. Her cane had become a folding walker, in the last few months. Burying her eldest son had aged her by years.

I was just helping them with the luggage when I saw a gigantic Suburban land-yacht turn the corner, come down the street and pull up into our driveway behind Grandpa's car. There were college football flags flapping from their little white plastic poles at every window. When all the doors opened, I saw that Uncle Bill had brought all four of his new step-kids along. I wondered if Mom had known they all were coming. When I heard their chatter, I also wondered just how far towards hypothermia I could stand to go before I had to go inside.

Now, admittedly, I had met my uncle's kids at my lowest point in life, and as much as I hate to prejudge someone after only one brief meeting...I really don't like them. They were all spoiled rotten. The girls, well, they put me in mind of the rich girl from Charley and the Chocolate Factory. And the boys...well, let's just say I don't care for them at all and leave it at that.

Come to think of it, since Dad's death, I can't say I like Uncle Bill all that much either.

Going inside, I played nice. I answered all the expected questions about school. I told Grandpa how much I liked his new car. It looked just like the old one to me, but what do I know. That earned me a five minute description of all the 2002 Cadillac's new features. Then Uncle Bill wanted to know about the college football program at my school.

I escaped that trap by hugging Grandma. As I held her I noticed how frail she seemed. How little strength was in her arms to return my hug. Oh, please God. Not another funeral this year. Not this year, please...or the next.

Mrs. Emma came out of the kitchen then, drying her hands on a paper towel. She got warm hugs from my grandparents. They knew her like she was almost family. Bill and his wife greeted her with polite courtesy. Cool, but polite. Everyone did smiled when she told us dinner would be ready in about thirty minutes.

"Well," she said. " I'm going to go get changed. Make a few phone calls to some relatives, and I should be back about the time everyone is getting seconds."

Mom hugged her tightly. "Thank you so much, Emma. We'll wait till you get back to start eating."

"You'll do no such thing." She leaned in to whisper to my Mom. "Not even this many people can eat all the food we cooked." She grabbed up her coat from by the door. "Just go ahead, and I'll fix a plate when I get back."

I watched her through the window as she crossed the street to her house. The lack of lights on it really stood out and brought home just how alone she looked walking up her sidewalk towards that dark house. It tore at my heart, burning into places that were already dreadfully sore. I let the curtain fall when her living room lights came on. I was about to head for the kitchen when I heard Bill's stepson, Roger, talking to his mom in the next room. The one all the coats were being placed in. I moved towards the voices.

"Why is that old lady eating with us?" he demanded.

"I don't know dear. I didn't ask." Bill's wife had her back to me when I stopped in the doorway. I watched her fussing with the expensive looking fur collar of her coat.

"Well, I don't want to have to sit next to her," he said after a second. "Or those other two. Old people smell."

His mom gave a small sigh.

"Now, Roger, that's not nice. Or smart. I want you to remember what I told you about Bill's parents." Her eyes cut to me standing there, and she went silent. Roger gave me a look that nearly got him his teeth handed to him. Moving away from the door, I saw Uncle Bill in the hall by the dining room, talking to his other three kids. He also stopped talking as I got close.

I didn't say anything to them, just walked past to the end of the hall where I had left my travel bag and grabbed it up. Stepping into the kitchen, I saw Mom heading towards the dining room with her hands full of silverware. I caught her elbow.

"Mom, I'm going to head over to Mrs. Emma's. I'll grab a quick shower over there and get into my dinner clothes." I turned my head towards the dining room. "I'll be back in awhile."

"But Tim...?"

"Mom," I stopped and looked towards the hall where I could hear one of Bill's kids running. I felt my teeth clench together, even as my knuckles whitened on the strap to my bag. "If I don't get out of here for a few minutes, I'm going to say something I shouldn't."

The running feet went up the stairs, and Mom and I glanced to the crystal chandelier in the dining room as it began to sway over the table.

"I understand. Try not to get in Emma's way," she said. I saw her close her eyes, take a breath, and count to ten.

"I'll try not to," I assured her.

Figuring the kitchen was the best way out, I ducked through there, out the side-door and into the cold. As I got outside and started towards the Jackson's, my eyes fell on Grandpa's Cadillac. It didn't take much to figure out what Roger's mother had been telling her son about Uncle Bill's parents.

Shaking my head, I headed across the street only to stop half way. Snow? Looking around, I watched and saw a second flake drift down. By the time I got to her porch and rang the bell, the flakes were really starting to fall. I watched them as I waited. Mrs. Emma opened the door wearing a floor-length, white, flannel bathrobe.

"Oh, Tim. Come on in. My goodness, is it snowing?"

"Just started. Wish I had walked over with you." I pointed to the bathrobe. "Sorry for just showing up but I was on the verge of step-kin murder."

Smiling she held the front of her robe a little tighter together and laughed. What a delightful sound. The tight lines around her blue eyes lifted as she giggled. "I can understand. I was just about to step into the shower. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is, right?"

"Yes, and thank you again for this," I said, following her up the stairs.

"It's no problem, Tim. Be kind of nice to have a man back in the house." She flashed me that flirty smile I remember so well. "Even if it is only for the weekend."

Standing at the door of the guest room, I watched her walk down the hall to the bathroom, half hoping she would look back and catch me watching her. She didn't. I soon heard the water turn on.

Looking around the guest room, I could see that not much had been changed about it since I had helped Mr. Jackson paint after the flooding. Setting my bag on the bed, I half expected to hear his voice. That deep grumble my dad always teased his friend about.

Unloading my bag, I got out my shaving kit, and then started to look for the leather case I carry my good watch in when I travel. I felt a sudden need to outshine my uncle's kids. They had been dressed so very nicely. Not finding my watch I began to tear my bag apart. By the time I had gone through everything at least twice, I heard the water turn off down the hall. Then a few minutes later there were footsteps.

"I left you plenty of hot water."

Looking up, I saw her standing at the door. She was in her robe, but now her hair was wrapped up in a towel turban. Her face was flushed from the hot water. I don't think I have ever seen her look more sexy. She smiled at my scrutiny of her and then looked at my clothes laid out on the bed. She pointed towards them.

"When I get dressed I'll get my iron out and get those wrinkles out for you."

"You don't have to do that. My family is used to seeing me wrinkled," I said, even though I was secretly ecstatic that she woulds do that for me. I remembered Roger's pants having seams so sharp they could cut. I went back to looking for my watch.

"I don't mind." She watched me for a few seconds. "Are you looking for something specific?"

"Yeah, my watch. I carry it in a case with me when I travel; it's the one Dad got me when I graduated. I must have left it in my dorm room." With a shake of my head, I laid down the empty travel bag.

"Tom had several nice watches. I'll get you one of his," she offered.

"No, that's okay." I shrugged and began to put clothes back in the bag.

"Tim, I promise he won't mind."

Looking up, I saw the sadness, the loss in her face...in those blue eyes. Then she was gone from the door. I listened to her footsteps fade wishing again I had packed that stupid watch but for a different reason..Just so she wouldn't have gotten sad.

Grabbing my shower kit, I headed to the bathroom. As I closed the door behind me, a memory flashed. The vision of her laying on this floor came and went in a second. Feeling that out-of-place feeling, I stripped down. Uncomfortable, I got into the shower and let the hot water chase away the cares of the day. Let it try and wash the anger I felt towards my uncle. Towards his kids. Towards my dad...

I finished quickly when the water began to get cold, just as I was washing my hair. Her shower caddy had bottles of fruity shampoos, and I had a travel bottle of the type I normally use, but she had left out two bottles on the counter next to the shower. Obviously for me to use, so I did.

Wrapping a towel around my hips, I draped the one I had dried my hair with around my neck and headed back to my room. With my shower bag bumping my hip I came to a stop in the doorway. Mrs. Emma had an ironing board lying on the corner of the bed and was ironing my slacks to crisp pleats. Leaning against the frame I just stood there watching her move. She seemed almost to glide like a dancer as she went about this simple task. I watched how her body moved within her dress. She was wearing that blue dress that I had once seen on her years ago. The one I had loved because it seemed to hug her hips so very well. I had to keep the smile from my lips as I watched those hips dance. Then I noticed that the zipper on the back of the dress was only just past the half way point.

Moving over, I stopped behind her and when she stood up to shake out my slacks I caught the zipper. My fingers wanted to go down so very badly, but I made them go up. The back of my knuckle brushed her soft skin all the way to her neck. She looked over her shoulder at me as I slowly zipped her up.

"Thank you. That is getting harder and harder to reach every year. I may have to retire this dress soon. Either that or just face the fact it will always have the back unzipped," she giggled.

I let my hand rest on her shoulder for a second.

"You're welcome. Thank you for doing that for me." I nodded towards the ironing board with my chin.

She smiled at me, laid my folded pants next to my folded shirt and turned around. I saw her eyes drop to my bare chest for a second, then they jumped back up to meet my eyes.

"You're very welcome,Tim." Suddenly she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then I saw her eyes squint up and a shudder of grief pass over her. Her head dropped, and she hugged her elbows as a second shudder passed over her.

"Emma, what's the matter?"

Opening her eyes, she looked up at me and blinked away a few tears. She smiled, reached up and patted my chest.

"It's nothing. Nothing. Just the smell of that shampoo. Silly memories, I wasn't thinking when I put it out for you to use." She patted my chest again and sniffled back a tear. "You smell like Tom."

Reaching up, I pressed her hand tight against my chest and held it there as I lifted my other hand and brushed away that slowly falling tear. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do to bring him back for you. Someway that could take away all your tears." I longed to take her into my arms, but I settled for squeezing her fingers a little tighter. "If I had thought about the smell reminding you, it being painful for you, I would have used something else. I had my own shampoos with me."

"Oh, nonsense. No harm is done. I'm just being an emotional ninny." She shrugged. "The shampoo needs to be used any way, or I'm going to have to throw it out. You can take it with you when you leave if you like." Her eyes dropped to where her hand was on my chest. For a half-second I felt her fingers move in the sparse hairs, then she took a deep breath and looking back up, gave me a smile. Her hand pushed against my chest, and I backed up and turned her hand loose. She moved around me to unplug her iron.

I saw her brush away another tear.

"Good thing I didn't put my makeup on yet. All these silly tears and I would have me looking like Tammy Fay." We both laughed, though mine felt a bit forced to me. "Well, you get dressed. I've got to go call a plastering crew to help me put my makeup on. I know it's a futile attempt but I have to try and look beautiful."

"You don't need makeup to look beautiful, Emma."

She stopped at the door and looked back to see me smiling at her.

"Well, thank you, Tim...but you're blind." She started to pull the door closed, then stopped. A frown made her eyebrows crease. "You called me by my name. I think that is the first time I have ever heard you call me that."

"My mom is not here to deny me dinner for doing so, Emma." I grinned.

She smiled back. "No, she's not."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The yard was powder white when we headed over for dinner. I held her hand as she walked down her steps. She smiled at me and took my arm. I felt on top of the world at that moment. If we had been going out to eat somewhere, a nice restaurant perhaps, it would have been perfect. But dinner was across the street, at a house with no lights...and my family, with all the current drama, was waiting.

I took her coat when we got inside, she smiled and mouthed thank you. Going towards the den, I could hear my mom talking. I saw the pile of coats across one chair, so I laid ours across the blanket press and headed for the kitchen. A quick glance into the dining room, and I saw that it was packed with people. Most of the food, I though, seemed to have been moved to the buffet table, but as I entered the kitchen I saw that there was still several dishes left on the counter by the stove. The loud voices from the dining room, Uncle Bill talking about football, almost seemed to grate on my spine, so I grabbed a plate and filled it from what was on the counter.

I pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table, which was filled with cakes and pies, and moved to the small side table. The one Mom uses to sign checks at when she pays bills. Sitting down, I dug into a bit of everything I had on my plate. Everything was delicious, by far the best meal I had eaten in months, but it could have been ashes from the fireplace. That quick look into the dining room had shown me Bill's wife sitting in Dad's normal place at the table. Her brood of children were beside her, with Roger sitting next to Grandpa.

Absently pushing a bit of sweet potato casserole around with my fork, I realized just what it was I was staring at after a second. The blue envelope on top of the stack of power and water bills was from the funeral home.

Suddenly, missing my dad more than I could bear, I leaned back from my plate. How? How could he be gone?

"Tim?" Mom's voice startled me, as she came into the kitchen carrying an empty pitcher of tea. She shook her head seeing me sitting in the kitchen. "We would have made room at the table!"

I shook my head.

"It's comfortable here. I have plenty of elbow room, and the conversation is more stimulating." I pointed to the ceramic rooster sitting on the table next to me.

Mom shook her head and went into the pantry. I watched her bring back out a gallon jug of Milo's tea. She filled the pitcher full of ice from the bag in the cooler next to the freezer, and then poured in the tea.

"Tim, I'm glad you came home for Thanksgiving. I'm glad your here. I really am. Now would it be asking too much if I asked you to try and be nicer to your new cousins?" After a moment I gave my head a slight nod. She gave an exasperated sigh and picked up the pitcher. "You could at least go to the living room and keep Emma company."

Mom was back through the door and into the growing conversation chaos of the dining room. I could hear Uncle Bill still talking about last weekend's big game. You would have sworn by the way he talked that he had been the coach. Maybe the quarterback, and half the other players as well.