Chapter 3: I Broke It

Winnie has decided that she wants to be a ballerina when she is a big girl. I bought her a yellow tutu and she wears it everywhere except the bath. That was a day when I had to explain to her little developing brain that tutus do not belong in a tub. Let’s just say, bubbles were thrown. She insisted on yellow, not pink, because her favorite fruit is bananas and she wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Now, most ballerinas practice in a studio during reasonable hours. Well, Winnie doesn’t do reasonable. No, she is too much like her mother. Everyday at 4:15 am, I am awoken by a tiny hand taping my forehead. Everyday I pretend I am asleep and hope the ballerina tyrant will return from whence she came. Unfortunately, it has never worked. She will spot my eyes slightly ajar and tap even harder. Finally, I will ask her what she wants and she will always say, “Watch me Mommy. Watch me dance!”. And I do. I watch her twirl and trip and spin for what seems like an eternity. If I start to fall back asleep, that tiny hand starts tapping again. Now, you may be thinking that I let my child run my household. To that I say, have you ever tried to reason with a four year old. I rest my case. 

Today was no ordinary day. Today was Winona’s 55th birthday and Winnie has been invited to her very extravagant birthday party. That makes me Winnie’s plus one. I still need to go to the store to buy a couple things for the party: Winona’s present, a dessert (I was assigned this task by Winona), and lots and lots of Tylenol for future headaches. Now, convincing Winnie to stop dancing so we can run errands is a task I don’t want to do, but have to. The toughest tasks are assigned to the strongest soldiers. 

“Hey Win?”

“Mhh hmm mhh,” she hummed as she twirled. “Yes Mommy?”

Here goes nothing. “We have to get ready to go to the store, love.”

She stopped with her back turned to me. “Why?”

“To get your Grandma a gift.”

“Why.”

“For her birthday Win.”

“Why?” she squeaked with her back still turned away from me.

“Why? Wh…” I faltered, “that’s what people do! They buy gifts for other’s birthdays?”

“Why?”

“Winnie, we need to go.”

“Hmmmmmm, no,” was her answer to a question that was never asked. Then, she continued to dance. 

“Winnifred, we are leaving and that is final. I am not going to argue with you today. I will get enough of that this evening.”

She paused again. “I…” she commented nervously, “I don’t want to.”

This is not working. Time for bribery. “Fine Win. I will just pick out the gift and… the dessert.” She turned to face me, eyes filled to the brim with excitement. “Ready to go?” I asked. She nodded in excitement. Now that’s how you reason with a 4 year old. 

___

“That one!” Winnie exclaimed from the cart. I followed her pointed finger to a pack of 10 lime green, sparkly cupcakes. 

“Oh, I don’t know about those. I think Grandma would like vanilla cupcakes with white frosting or a nice cake. Like this one here.” I grabbed a petite white cake with white pearls lining the edges. “Isn’t it beautiful Winnie?” I asked.

“Mommy, those!” She pointed again to the lime green cupcakes. I could see tears starting to swell in her big brown eyes. I was going to attest, but I caught myself. Winifred wasn’t lashing out or melting down. She was sad. She was crying because she was sad. I could tell by the way her bottom lips quivered instead of a pout. Before I could speak, she had silent tears streaming down her rosy, round cheeks. I quickly placed the cake back in the open fridge and cradled her small head to my chest while I rubbed her head. 

“Honey, what is wrong?”

“I… want …. those…” she choked, “ because they remind me… of Daddy.” She reached her arms around mine and pulled me in closer. I held her for a moment, letting her quietly sob in my arms. She would rise and fall without falter, softly and slowly. After she became still, I cupped her face in my hands and wiped away her tears with my thumbs. 

“Honey, I need your help. Mommy doesn’t understand. Help me understand. Why do those cupcakes remind you of Daddy?” I asked, still rubbing her cheeks.

She paused for a moment and I can tell her brain was working hard to digest what I had asked and deciding how to express this to me. She looked up into my eyes once more and shook her head.

“Winnie, please,” I pleaded. To be honest, the reason didn’t matter. I was getting the cupcakes no matter what. If they reminded Winifred of Daniel, how could I not. A selfish part of me wanted to know. I wanted another part of him. The part that only Winnie and him shared: her sweet and few memories. New information as if he was still alive today, making memories with his daughter. I wanted more of Daniel, more than I was expected as a widow.

She paused again, debating whether or not to share. Finally, she blinked quickly and whispered, “They are like my fairy.” I paused, mouth agape, confused by her comment. I was trying to think why a fairy would have any relation to Daniel. I looked at the cupcakes and then back at Winifred. She was searching in my eyes to see if I understood now. Fairy. Green fairy. Green sparkly fair… That’s when it clicked. Daniel bought Winifred a Tinkerbell doll and book for her first birthday. The probability of Winifred remembering that day is unlikely. Rather, she remembers the stories I told her and has adopted them as memories. Nevertheless, I am not going to be the one to take this moment from her. 

I reached back down into the open fridge and grabbed the lime green, sparkly cupcakes. I held them up to my face and pretended to study them with a deep concentration. I could see her face through the plastic. She was nervous. I sighed and said, “They do look an awful lot like Tinker Bell, don’t they?” A huge, toothy smile crept across her face and she began to kick her feet in excitement. I leaned in close and whispered, “Let’s get them for Daddy.” I gave her a big kiss on her forehead and placed the atrociously beautiful cupcakes in our cart. 

We went on with our shopping. As I pushed Winnie and the cart down the aisles, I couldn’t help but think about how different the small, mundane tasks are now that Daniel has passed. No longer am I shopping for 2 ½ people. Now I only have to consider Winnie and myself. I no longer buy strawberries, chips, or coffee creamer. Those were items only Daniel loved. I miss seeing men’s shampoo in my shower and beard whiskers in my sink. I miss him pushing the cart while we shop. I miss him religiously saying no to sugary cereals I would want to buy and his hearty laugh that would follow when I attempted to impersonate the character on the box in hopes he would change his mind. He never did. I miss his grumpiness when I would steal his pillow or when I would forget to make the bed when it was my turn. 

“Thank heavens for Win,” he would joke, “otherwise I might run away.” In response, I would give him a good tickle to the ribs. “Please!” he’d cry. “I am sorry!” Then he would wrap his arms around me and whisper in my ear, “Who am I kidding? You would never let me leave. You, Nora Carter,  are the most stubborn, independent woman I know… and I love you for that.” I miss those moments most of all. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a short, blonde woman in a gray long sleeved dress and heels. Alarms bells started to go off in my head. I turned only to confirm my suspicions, Ava Adams. I quickly ducked behind a cart of bread and peeked over to see her next movements. 

“Mommy, why are you…”

“Shhh, Win. I need you to be quiet.” I interjected sternly.

“Why Mommy?” Her lip started to pout and tears started to form.

“No no no. Don’t cry honey. We are ok. Let’s play a game! Let’s be super secret spies!” Her eyes perked up. “Let’s be as quiet and sneaky as we can be until we get to the car,” I whispered. She nodded and hunched further down into the cart. I gave her a wink and then peeked my head back around the bread cart. Ava Adams was nowhere to be found. She had disappeared into thin air. Ava Adams was not a woman you would want to run into on your day off. Crap.

I slowly started to push the cart down the aisles, taking each turn cautiously and slowly. I scanned constantly, searching for her. I eventually made my way towards the front of the store and I could see the checkout. We were maybe 20 yards away. The home stretch. I began to push the cart faster and faster, weaving through the crowd. “Almost there,” I thought… Wham! I slammed into another cart turning from the sauces and spices aisle.

“I am so sorry… Ava,” I trailed off. There she was before me, the woman who never stops speaking. What have I done?

“Oh! Nora! Winifred! Is she alright? You were going awfully fast, don't you think?” she remarked, rubbing her elbow and grimacing. 

“Oh Ava, I am so sorry. I was in such a hurry. We are trying to get ready for Winona's party tonight.” I replied with a smile. Mentioning Winona seemed to make her feel better and she magically forgot about her elbow. 

“Well I will see you there! Winona is so excited to see Winifred,” she said while caressing Winnie’s hair.

I agreed and announced, “Well, we should be off!” 

I started to pull my cart away from hers when she pushed her cart back into mine, cornering me. She added, “Oh Nora, before you go, do you remember the lasagna I made for you and Winifred a while back?”

I felt my eyes switch. I know where she is going with this. “Yes, I remember Ava. The lasagna was delicious and we were very grateful for the food.”

“Thank you,” she cooed, pulling at her lengthy blonde hair. “It’s my mother’s recipe. Many people have given me the same compliments. Anyway, the lasagna came in a blue and white baking dish. I was wondering if you would be able to return it.” Her eyes and smile were wide. 

“Hmmm,” I pondered, purposely exaggerating my facial expressions, “I  think I returned the dish to you earlier this year.” Other shoppers started to become frustrated since we were two carts standing in the main aisle making one annoying roadblock. 

“No Nora, I would have remembered. This dish is special to me. It’s one out of the set of 30 I received from my grandmother. Please look again.” Her smile was no longer there. 

“I will look again,” I replied with a smile, knowing full well I broke it while trying to hand wash it.

“Thank you. How is the bank?” she asked. 

I can’t keep this going. I could hear shoppers starting to riot behind me. I replied, “Fine! It’s good to see you Ava. See you tonight!” I quickly pulled my cart into the furthest lane and kept my eyes forward, praying she would not mosey her way into my line. 

Winona’s party started at 5:00. Winnie and I arrived at 5:15 on the dot. I will admit, I have never been the most punctual person. We were instantly greeted and questioned about our container of lime green, sparkly cupcakes. I laughed and smiled and thanked people for their compliments on my dress. I went with a plain, long, black dress and a blue cardigan. I thought it was a safe option. Winnie on the other hand came in a bright orange dress with pink shoes and proudly sported her yellow tutu. What can I say, that kid has style. 

It wasn’t long before we found Winona sharing stories with a group of her friends. She had a long pink birthday girl sash and a tiara adorned her frizzy black hair. I have a feeling that she may have purchased those items herself. Her eyes instantly lit up when she saw Winifred. She pushed past her friends and scooped her into a big hug. She glanced up to spot the green cupcakes. She gave me a glare that clearly meant, “Why on God’s green earth would you bring lime green, sparkly cupcakes to my 55th birthday party?”

I mouthed, “Winnie picked them.” She nodded in response. 

“Oh Winifred,” she exclaimed, “did you pick these out for me?”

“Yes Grammie, they look like my fairy!” She stuck Tinkerbell in Winona’s face. 

Winona laughed and said, “Oh yes, I can see that. Honey, why don’t you take Tinkerbell here and play in the backyard. Some of my friends’ grandkids are playing near the orange tree.” She patted Winnie on the head and pointed. Off she ran to play with the other kids, leaving me with the adults. 

Winona returned her attention to me. “Very sweet of Winnie to pick those out for me. What a shame you didn’t get a normal cake to go along with it.” She placed the green cupcakes on a table with platters upon platters of food and other desserts. Then, she softly waved her hand as if I was clear to leave her presence. “Why don’t you go mingle with the other guests, Nora?”

So, I did or at least I attempted to. I wandered into the living room and listened to other people talk about their kids, houses, jobs, pets, trips, and the price of gas. I could tell that many of them were trying to be polite and just passing time until the end of the party. I had a couple of genuinely pleasant interactions. In particular, I met the new preacher of The Harmony in Christ church we have here in town. I learned two things about her. First, her name is Ruby Wright and yes I said she. Second, she hates Winona’s gaudy black furniture. If I remember correctly, she mumbled a joke in regards to the sleekness of the furniture in which a person would just slip right off. It had caught me and the water in my mouth off guard. In fact, I think she even included the word “damn”. She is officially my new favorite preacher. 

After speaking with everyone in the living room, I grabbed a beer and moved to the kitchen window that looks out onto the backyard. I watched Winnie run around with four other little girls and one boy. I studied, trying to guess what game they were playing, taking a sip of my beer here and there. I quickly remembered why I don’t like beer. They were running around the orange tree, chasing each other and trying to grab each other’s arms. 

“It’s not tag,” I whispered to myself.  “What in the world are you guys playing?” 

“It’s cops and robbers,” a deep voice blurted from behind me. I turned to see a man I did not know. He was a bit taller than me, slender build, and he had reddish brown hair. He was also sipping a beer and smiling at me. I stared at him in confusion. 

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“The game that they are playing. It’s cops and robbers. They are trying to handcuff the bad guys.” He pointed past me at the children playing outside.

I turned to watch them once more. Sure enough, he was correct. They were trying to grab each other's arms to put on pretend handcuffs. “Huh,” I uttered, “you’re right.” I glanced back at him and he was smiling with pride. “I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked with annoyance. 

“Matthew Stoll.” He stuck out his slender hand for me to shake. I examined his hand for a moment before I accepted it. 

“How do you know Winona?” I inquired. 

“I live five houses down.” Matthew replied as he sipped his beer, “I moved in about a month ago.” He took another big swig and tried to hide his grimace and he swallowed his drink. 

“Let me ask you something, Matthew Stoll.”

In a dramatic, deep voice, he replied, “Shoot.” 

“Why are you drinking a pale ale beer if it is clear as day that you hate beer?” 

His cheeks flushed red and he tried to conceal his embarrassment. “I like beer.”

“No, no you don’t,” I chuckled. “It’s ok, keep drinking your pale ale.” 

He started to snicker and responded, “I will! Watch!” Then he took another big gulp and choked. He really choked and he coughed and coughed while his face turned beet red. I should have been polite and brought him some water, but I laughed until I cried. I laughed until my chest hurt. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. 

“I am sorry.” I apologized. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”

“No, no. I deserved it. To be honest, I hate beer!” And we both started laughing again.

Then I asked, “Then why are you drinking it?”

He rubbed his neck and sighed, “Well, I saw you drinking a beer. I thought I might grab one and join you.” Those words made my stomach drop. Suddenly, this interaction wasn’t so funny.

“Oh,” I whispered.

“You’re Nora, right? Winona’s daughter-in-law?”

“Yes,” I replied bluntly, “I am sure she has told you all about me.”

“Well, she mentioned Winifred, your daughter and that you are a good mother.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “Winona said that about me?”

“More or less,” he confessed as he smiled. 

“That sounds like Winona.”

“She also mentioned you worked at a bank downtown. What is that like?”

This man is honestly asking me what working at a bank is like. No one ever asks that because it is exactly how you think it would be. “It’s quiet. Sometimes it’s like playing a game and I enjoy that, but for the most part, it’s boring. What do you do for work?” If I had to guess from his glasses and flannel, I would say something to do with books or writing. 

“Nursing.” He must have sensed my surprise. “What, a man can’t be a nurse? I would like for you to know that I can rock a pair of scrubs,” he joked.

“No, no. It’s not that you're a man. I just wouldn’t have placed you as someone who works in healthcare. Sorry, that also sounded rude. I should just stop talking.” He playfully scoffed and took another sip. 

Eye contact is not abnormal during a conversation. Rather, it is seen as rude to not look at someone while you are conversing with them. When other people stare at me, I feel fine. When Matthew stares at me, I am squirming in my shoes. His stare is intense, as if he is examining me, trying to decide what to make of me. It’s not just momentary, his eyes linger. His smile is friendly, but giddy. Too giddy for this to be normal small talk. That sick feeling in my stomach continued to grow. My body was telling me I had wings and it’s time to fly, not stay back and fight. 

“You’re nervous. Why?” he questioned.

“No… no I am not. I have just had too much beer,” I said while placing my bottle on a nearby table.

“I am sorry about your husband. Winona talks about him a lot. She says that he was a great dad and husband. You must miss him,” he lamented as if he knew Daniel. It felt as if he genuinely cared about what I lost.

“I do.” I could feel the warm, salty tears starting to form in my eyes. I blinked quickly and remarked, “It sounds like you speak to Winona often.”

“Ya, I suppose. She brings me dinner at least twice a week. I never asked her to do that. She just does and her cooking is phenomenal. It has really helped make my home feel more like a home,” he stated while looking out the window. 

That’s what Winona does. She cooks for people. After Daniel died, I didn’t cook dinner for almost an entire year. Winona would show up with dishes upon dishes of delicious food that could be stored in our small freezer. All I had to do was turn on an oven. I don’t remember ever thanking Winona for that. 

“That is her talent. In some ways, I am jealous of her. I can barely crack an egg.”

He laughed and said, “Everyone has their gifts. If everyone was good at everything, then nothing would truly be special.” 

“Ya, that sounds right.” We continued to watch the children play in silence and it was comfortable yet uneasy all at the same time. I don’t know how long we stood there, but it was long enough for Winnie to tire herself out. She came inside with that grumpy time to go to bed look on her face. 

I pointed to Winnie and grumbled, “Matthew, it was lovely to meet you, but that is my cue.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he gleamed. “Maybe we can get coffee sometime. It was a great conversation, except for when I was choking.”

“Uhm I..suppose,” I stuttered, “I will have to check my schedule and see. Have a good day.” I could feel my face flush as I picked up Winnie and escaped by waving down Winona at the other side of the room. She quickly shuffled to meet us in the middle. 

“Hey Winona, I think it’s time for us to go. I hope you had a good birthday.”

“Oh, it was great. Thank you for coming by with your bright green cupcakes,” she jabbed and she leaned over to kiss Winnie on the forehead. 

“Winona.” I spoke hesitantly. It was always hard for me to sincerely connect with her. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for all of the food you gave us after Daniel died. It was helpful in more ways than I can describe.” I looked past her caked on mascara and found her vibrant hazel eyes. “Thank you Winona.” She smiled and kissed me on my cheek. I don’t know if we have ever even hugged. As Winnie and I made our way towards the exit, I still could feel her kiss sitting on my cheek and I wanted it to stay that way forever, Winona and I being civil. 

“Oh, are you already leaving Nora?” I heard a voice call from behind me. I turned to see Ava smiling with her big, friendly, painful smile. “Winona just loved having Winnie here. She talked about it all week,” she continued, never ceasing her smile. 

“Hi Ava. Yes, unfortunately we are leaving. It is nap time for this little booger,” I replied while patting Winnie on her head. She giggled and quickly swatted my hand away. 

Still smiling, she replied, “Oh, I remember those days with my boys. Naptime is naptime.”

“Yes,” I patiently answered, “yes it is. Well, we should be …”

“So, I saw you talking to Matthew Stoll earlier,” she interjected. Her eyes were unpleasantly wide and her smile had contorted into something more sinister. She cared more for the information she may receive than she cared for me. 

Cautiously I replied, “Yes. He is very polite. You know, I also saw him talking to Grace Williams earlier.”

She chuckled in response. “Oh come on Nora.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it!” she joked.

“Please, Ava. Please say it.” I was attempting to conceal my annoyance, but it was becoming trickier with each passing second. 

“Well,” she carelessly yapped, “Grace Williams has a husband.”

Thank god for Winnie, otherwise Ava’s comment would have been met with a platter of lime green, fairy cupcakes to the face. “Goodbye Ava.” I swiftly grabbed Winnie by the hand and headed for the door. Keep walking Nora. Keep walking. It’s not worth it. Keep your big, arrogant, troublemaking mouth shu…

“Oh Ava!” I proudly proclaimed as a turned back.

“Yes!”

Nora, stop. You can stop now before it’s too late. “Do you remember that baking dish you mentioned earlier?” I was no longer in control of my actions or words. She had crossed a line and now it’s time to pay. “The ravishing one with the white flowers and blue polka dots?” 

Her eyes lit up and it was the first genuine smile she had all evening. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “The one that is my great grandmother’s. She made it herself. It’s hand painted, you know.”

“Yes! That’s the one!” 

“Did you find it?” she asked, foaming at the mouth from excitement.

“No… I broke it. Bye Ava!” I quickly turned before I could see her reaction. I could, however, hear it from the street. 

Reviews

[George]

Interesting set up for anticipated conflict between Ava and Nora as well as some future connections between Nora and Matthew. The thing about Nora working in a bank was wonderful. The chapter advanced the story quite well. The last interaction about the blue china showed that Nora could lose it in an anxious setting--good foreshadowing for what I presume will be future situations. One or two minor typos, but nothing serious. Keep writing.