Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Let's Cook!--Entry #4

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Here's the next installment:

* * *
                       Hot himself picked up Lottie’s folks at the airport—he had to get out of the house. Even if it meant an hour ride alone with them from Newark Liberty. It took two days for Maggie and Joe to make the various connecting flights from their home in Natchez, Nevada, and Hot knew he’d be dealing with some weary and frayed travelers. He parked the car in short-term parking even though it would’ve saved 10 bucks if he just had them call him in the cell lot so he could snatch them up at the curb in Terminal C. But Hot knew better, the crazy traffic and chaos would have been overwhelming for his in-laws, and maybe it would be little less awkward to meet them on foot than from the driver’s seat.
            It wasn’t.
            Hot met Maggie and Joe at the luggage carousel and, at first sighting, Maggie exploded into tears, Joe sullenly patting her arm. Hot gently hugged her and felt the uncomfortable dampness of her cheek, followed by the dampness of Joe’s flaccid handshake.
            “I still can’t believe it, my Lottie!” Joe was the first to speak. Hot nodded.
            “I’ll never survive this. I mean it. It’s the worst thing ever,” sup-supped Maggie.
            “Maybe it would be better if I…which bags are yours?” Two broken parents and Hot in extended turmoil over the past couple of days needed to keep his hands busy. His total focus was on finding the suitcases. “Is it this one is it this one is it this one?” Indeed, Hot’s commitment to task caused a break in Maggie’s tear-storm and Joe, standing by, kept shaking his head until, finally, a nod and, finally, Hot was rolling two large suitcases from Baggage Claim and leading the bereaved parents to the car and the highly anticipated task of a maneuvering the Previa van around and through the tangle of roads and ramps constituting egress from Newark Liberty to the rapid flow of the New Jersey Turnpike. By then Maggie had regained her footing and was finally back to…being Maggie.
            “Why couldn’t you save her, Anderson? She was so young and strong. It’s inconceivable. You were home. You could have done something before…before. Why didn’t you help my daughter?”
            “Please, calm down dear, I’m sure he did everything he could,” said Joe. “People can go suddenly. Remember, Peter Briggs just the other day…massive cardiac. Nothing could have saved him.”
            “I’m sorry, Maggie. Lottie was gone when I got home.”
            “GOT HOME? GOT HOME? Where the hell were you at 6:30 in the morning? That’s when she died isn’t it?”
            “I was running.”
            “RUNNING? RUNNING. WHAT THE FUCK?”
            “Dear! Dear. Please.”
            “I can’t believe it. You selfish bastard--out jogging while my daughter is home dying. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You could have saved her life but instead you’re running around the neighborhood like some stupid kid. I’ll never live this down. Oh my god! Your supposed to take care of your wife and all you care about is yourself. And this is what we get!”
            “Now Maggie, Lottie had a massive brain hemorrhage--there was nothing anyone could’ve done. She went instantly. I could’ve been standing right next to her when it happened. She could’ve been in the Emergency Room and it wouldn’t have made difference. We are all devastated, but there was nothing anyone could have done.”
            “We understand, Anderson,” said Joe. “We’re just devastated. Maggie knows that you can’t be blamed for anything. We’ve lost our daughter, but you’ve lost your wife.” Hot was also afraid that he was beginning to lose his mind. His nerves tingling, snapping. He thought the drive to the airport would help calm him down, but the ride to the airport culminated in the arrival of his mother-in-law, who was, unfortunately, a living cliché. It was clear that Maggie never thought much of him and that he was clearly not an acceptable mate for his daughter. On paper, perhaps, she had a point. Hot hadn’t attend Swarthmore, but Trenton State was nothing to sneeze at. Neither was he ever in any honor society, nor did he hold high office in student politics. But gee, that was more than 25 years ago, and still his mother-in-law’s opinion had not softened when it came to him. Yes, Lottie got the law degree and was on a partner track at McDougal, McCray, and McCrumb while Anderson held anonymous back-office positions at Provident Investments as Lottie scored victory after victory in McDougal’s Litigation Department. But hell, he was a director in the shareholder reporting division by the time Lottie left the law to raise the kids--a career killer for which Maggie continued to hold Hot responsible. Maggie had big dreams for Lottie, all of which were dashed when the siren call of motherhood lured her from the path of wealth and prestige of the law. Useless, feckless Anderson Hot. A nothing in his own life trying to perpetrate a similar fate for her gifted and only child.
            No, Hot held a keen distaste for his mother-in-law.
            “You don’t seem that sad, Anderson. Are you sad?”
            “Of course I’m sad, Maggie.”
            “Of course he’s sad--what are you saying?” said Joe.
            “I’m just saying he doesn’t seem sad. He never seems like anything. Maybe once or twice I’ve seen him laugh.”
            “I don’t like being spoken about in the third person,” said Hot.
            “Oh, the Stoic speaks!”
            “Please stop it,” said Joe.
            “I can say whatever I want. My daughter’s dead. And my so-called son-in-law doesn’t seem to give a shit.”
            “That’s enough!” said Joe. “Besides, everyone grieves in his own way. Anderson is heart-broken, just like you. But he shows it differently.” Joe reached for Maggie’s arm, but she snatched it away, dabbed at her eyes and killed the rest of time in the care with gentle weeping.
            “Thank you, Joe. So how was your flight?” said Hot.

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