Accidentally deleted the wrong one. Short humor. Hope y'all like.

A Very Good Communicator with the Women Folk

Shelley Hayes sprawls all over the Taylors' kitchen counter like those ivy vines that come up out of nowhere and just take over one side of your house. You spray them, and you tear at them, and shake your hands at the skies, but they just keep growing back. She's sitting on a bar stool, and she has her arm stretched out over the black and brown granite – Tami picked the color and Eric didn't like it but damn if he was going to say so – and her blonde head is tilted down and it's laying on her arm and she's groaning, "I am sooooooo hungry."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have waited for me to get home from practice to start cooking dinner, huh?" Eric says. "Maybe you should have started cooking it. I mean what have you been doing all day anyway?"

"Taking care of my niece, thank you very much, as you and Tami invited me here to do."

"She was in pre-K four hours of the day," Eric says. And now Gracie's taking her post-school, pre-dinner, TV-time nap, which means she's half-awake on that living room couch, but the narcotic glow of the screen is keeping her from bouncing off the walls.

They lost their nanny last week and had to call Shelley up in to pinch hit until they can find a good before- and after-school care program. They aren't going to try a nanny again, not after their unfortunate experience. The timing worked out pretty well because Shelley's between jobs. Again.

Tami puts down the kitchen phone and groans. She stands across the counter from Shelley while Eric adds some spices to his award-winning chili.

"Ease up on the bay leaves this time," Shelley tells him, finally pulling herself into a regular sitting position. "Who puts bay leaves in chili anyway?'

"There's one bay leaf in the whole damn thing," Eric says.

Tami groans again.

"That bad?" Shelley asks.

"It was your turn to talk to her," Tami tells her sister. "And it's time, Shelley. I swear, she told me the same story twice in one conversation, and she told me that story last week too. You need to have this conversation with her, Shell."

"Me? Why me? You're the oldest sister. And she's in Phili now, so you're closest to her."

"You're here now too! For the next week or two anyway. So you can go tell her it's time for assisted living!"

"I'm not going to do it! You're doing it!"

"No, Shelley. Eric and I have been supplementing Mamma's income for the past six years and she's lived five miles from us for the past two years. The least you can do is be the one to have this conversation with her!"

"Oh, like you're Florence Nightengale? And like she didn't live ten miles from me in Dallas for three years before that!"

"Dammnit, Shelley – "

Eric takes the towel off his shoulder and snaps Tami with it to get her attention. "Hey!" she cries.

"How's about I talk to her?" he suggests.

"You?" Shelley asks, and Tami laughs.

"Sure," he says. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm a very good communicator with the womenfolk."

"Really?" Shelley says. "Like that time in high school when Tami's car started sputtering, and we pulled into the parking lot of that green house?" Tami lived in the next town over when they were in high school, and the car fairy tossed her into Eric's path by somehow poking a hole in her radiator. He worked at the greenhouse at that time, hauling and stacking mulch and ringing up sales. "And you were trying to help us," Shelley continues, "but we both thought you were trying to lure us into your truck so you could chop us up into little pieces and keep us in your freezer?"

"Well I got my communication across, didn't I? I did get y'all in my truck eventually and I drove you someplace warm and dry with good coffee while I called the tow truck."

"Yeah, but Tami still brought her crow bar with her. Just in case."

"I might've been a little nervous around Tami at first, but I think I ended up communicating very well that night. I mean, she asked for my address right off the bat."

"So I could mail you a check, sugar, to pay you back for the car repairs."

"I am a good communicator!"

"Really, is that why the nanny quit?" Shelley asked. "I heard about the incident, Eric."

"I have no idea why she thought I was coming on to her. I was talking about the nickel package! I wasn't even talking to her! I was talking to the TV."

"Yeah, she thought you were trying to give her some kind of package, all right," Shelley says.

Tami shakes her head. "That's not why she quit anyway. After Gracie unlocked the deadbolt and went across the street and climbed that tree and go on the neighbor's roof, Luisa just didn't think she could handle it anymore."

"Hey, Eric, if you want to try to communicate with Mamma and talk her into a home, more power to you," Shelley says, sliding off the stool. "I'm all for it. I'm surprised you want to."

"I'm a little surprised too," Tami says, looking him up and down. "Are you expecting some kind of reward?"

"The reward of making my wife happy, because she doesn't have to worry about her mama anymore, and of getting some peace and quiet in this house because you and Shelley stop arguing about her."

Tami raises an eyebrow.

"Besides, she likes me better than either of you."

"That's actually true," Shelley admits.

Tami pats his shoulder. "Okay then, hon. You communicate with her."

/-/

"A'ight, Mama Hayes," Eric says, switching the garbage disposal on and off in her condo's efficiency kitchen. The kitchen opens on the living room, where Tami's mom is sitting on the couch. "It's workin'. Don't shove anymore spoons down there."

She turns up the volume on the TV on her daytime soap. The talking people are very loud and the dramatic music is even louder and he winces. "Anything else you need done around here?"

"Did I ever tell you about my gentleman caller?"

He moves his cap up and down on his head. "No, ma'am, you did not."

"Eric Anthony Taylor, are you wearing a hat in my house?"

"No, ma'am," he says, sweeping it off and lying it on the counter. He doesn't tell her his middle name isn't Anthony, either.

"Ooooh you do have gorgeous hair, young man. You always did. Just like my boy Jackson. How is Jackson by the way?"

"Jackson's been dead twenty-four years, Mama Hayes."

"Oh, yes, that's right."

He comes and sits in the arm chair. "So who is this gentleman caller?" he asks. "Do I need to do a little research on him, make sure he deserves you?"

"He brings me Oprah's magazine and a cream soda every Wednesday."

"Sounds like a keeper."

She nods. She turns up the volume on the TV again. He winces again. "Can you believe she's marrying that other guy when she could have Eduardo?"

"No, ma'am," he says.

"It's like when Tami kept dating that Mo fellow even though you were following her around like a loyal little puppy dog."

"I really think I was more of a sleek German Shepherd type."

She laughs. "Oh, honey. No." She starts hitting the volume button on the remote again, but he grabs it out of her hand and turns off the TV.

"Hey!" she complains. "My stories!"

"Listen up, Mama Hayes!" he says, and then he stands and slaps his hands together. "A'ight, this is how it is. It's time. You're a candid woman, always have been. I'm not beating around the bush with you like Shelley would do or Tami would do."

"Eric Richard Taylor does not beat around the bush, that's for sure."

He doesn't tell her his middle name isn't Richard. "No, ma'am. So here's the deal. You're losing your long-term memory a little bit. And your short-term memory a little bit. And you had a little fall last month about landed you in the hospital. And you keep putting spoons down the garbage disposal, and it's just…well, it's time."

"Eric Gregory Taylor, are you trying to put me in a home!" She draws up her little five-foot-six frame into a standing position and practically stares him down, even though she's got to stare up to do it.

"Uh…."

"Because that's what it sounds like to me! It sounds like Eric Kenneth Taylor is trying to put this spry lady into a home! Just wheel her off! Shut the door! Dump her like yesterday's trash!"

"Now, Mama Hayes, listen up now, you know – "

"I guess that would be easier for you, wouldn't it? You and Tami could pay someone else to care so you don't have to!"

"I, uh…"

"I swear to God, Eric Jeffrey Taylor, if you try to put me in a home – "

"Mama! Shush now! And my middle name is Michael!"

/-/

"So how did it go?" Shelley asks from where she sits on the living room couch. Tami, who is sitting next to her, raises an eyebrow. Then both sisters raise their wine glasses to their lips.

"Did you communicate with her effectively, sugar?" Tami asks.

Eric slides down into the arm chair. He takes of his cap and crumples it in his hands. "About that. Uh…" He slaps his ankle up on his knee and hangs his cap on his foot, "Funny thing."

"Yes," Tami says, looking unhappy already.

"Um….well…I kind of invited her to move in with us."

Tami closes her eyes slowly and Shelley lets out an uproarious laugh. Shelley stands, plucks his hat off his foot, and says, "I crown you king of the womenfolk communicators" and shoves it on his head.

/AND THAT THERE'S THE END/