CHAPTER 39

Saturday morning I was awakened by sounds of Mom working across the hall in her office. I lay there for a while, listening, but then got up to use the bathroom...

...and as I passed her open door, I considered stopping for a moment to say good morning, but quickly decided against it...

...because as I looked in, I saw her hunched over her desk, working frantically. Papers were flying right and left...and when Mom gets like that, she does NOT appreciate being interrupted.

And so, I sneaked down the hall to pee...

...and then, wondering if my breakfast was on the table yet, I headed downstairs to the dining room and found that it was: Special J cereal (with honey), a bowl of fresh mango chunks, and a tall glass of strawberry/orange fruit frappe, which Mom makes by whizzing juice and frozen berries in the blender.

I took my time eating, and after carrying my empty dishes to the kitchen I glanced over at the fridge and was thrilled to see that Mom hadn't left a "To Do" list for me. Wanting to make the most of this lazy Saturday morning, I deliberated going back to bed...

...but I didn't really feel sleepy, so I decided to get cleaned up and dressed instead. Ten minutes later, I was in the shower, wishing Emma was in here with me...

...and imagining exactly what I'd do to her if she were...

...but just as things were starting to get really good, my reverie was interrupted by the sound of Mom on the phone, saying loudly, "No, Matt, I just finished them! Everything's ready, and I promise you'll have it by then!"

Two minutes later, I heard her running downstairs...

...and then, as I was drying off, running back up again...

...and then, while I was brushing my teeth, running back down again.

Ten minutes later, as I was putting on my shoes, she knocked on my closed bedroom door, saying, "Alyssa, as soon as you're dressed, come downstairs. I need to talk to you."

Oh, God...what did I do wrong now, I wondered as I headed down.

Mom was in the kitchen washing dishes, and dressed casually which meant she wasn't going anywhere this morning.

I took a deep breath and then, hoping I wasn't in for a lecture, walked across the room to the sink and asked, "What did you want to see me about?"

Drying her hands on a towel, she turned to me and said, "First things first: guess who's coming over for lunch?"

I shrugged. "I don't kno-oh, my God! Really?"

She smiled and nodded.

"H-how? Wh-why? Wh-when?" I spluttered.

"I just...happened to be thinking about Emma this morning, so I called and told her I'm sorry it's such short notice, but would she like to join us for lunch."

"Wh-what t-time is she c-coming over?" I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.

"Soon. I don't know the exact time. I told her, 'Lunch will be ready at one, but you're welcome to come before then,' and she said she'll be over in a little while...but right now, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, what?" I asked eagerly. "Empty the wastebaskets?"

Mom shook her head. "No, I took care of that earlier. Come into the living room for a minute."

Once I'd followed her in, she picked up a large, heavy manila envelope from the coffee table and handed it to me, saying, "What I need you to do is to run this over to 25 North Somerset Avenue. It's the white Dutch Colonial house on the corner.

"Somerset? That's nine blocks from here!"

"Alyssa, I don't think walking nine blocks will destroy your health."

"Well, no...but then, I might not be at home when Emma gets here!"

"Don't worry; I'll let her in. Do you really think I'd lock the doors and make her stand outside all by herself?"

"Why don't you just drive this over?" I suggested. " That would be a lot faster."

"I would, but right now I have three different things in the oven."

"I'll watch them for you," I offered.

"Oh, no, you won't; because instead you're going to walk-"

"Well, then why don't we ask Emma to give me a ride over there?"

"Because Mr. Shaw, from the office, is closing on a property this morning and needs these documents. They have to be delivered within the next thirty minutes, and I'm not sure what time Emma's going to get here."

"But, I want to be here when-"

"Alyssa, why do you need to be here when she arrives?"

"I...don't know," I admitted.

"Well, then, no more excuses. Hurry on over there...and no foot-dragging!"

With a sigh, I glanced at the mantel clock...and then headed outside.

As I shut the door behind me, I hesitated on the top step, realizing that if I haul ass, I can probably get back before Emma arrives...

...which is something I absolutely need to do!

I mean, I'm not afraid to leave the two of them alone together. Now that Mom realizes Emma's not the enemy, I no longer fear for her safety - it's not like I'll walk though the front door and find Mom chasing her through the house with a meat cleaver - it's just that, well, having her visit is such a big deal to me that I don't want to waste a single minute anywhere else when I could be spending it at home...with her!

It had rained hard for most of the night, but now the sky was bright, the air was soft, and the still-wet streets, sidewalks, houses, and trees all had been washed clean.

All in all, it was a perfect Spring morning.

Taking a deep breath, I sprinted down the driveway and turned to my left...

...and then, with the sun warming my back, I raced toward Somerset Avenue as fast as I could.

Less than halfway there, I was forced to stop and catch my breath. I'm in pretty good shape, but definitely not used to running distances at breakneck speed! Less than a minute later, although I hadn't yet recovered fully, I started running again.

By the time there were only two blocks left to go, my lungs felt like they were on fire, but I didn't want to stop again so I tried to distract myself by remembering that Emma was going to be in my house (and in my arms!) sometime within the next hour.

Finally, I found the right house and staggered up the driveway, stopping at the front door. Hunched way over and clutching at my left side, I struggled to breathe...

...but time was far too valuable to waste on something so trivial as that! And so, reaching up with my free hand, I rang the bell and then, ignoring my aching, protesting midsection, made myself stand up straight, while tying to force my breath and twisted facial features into some semblance of normalcy.

Well, I definitely failed at that because the moment Mrs. Shaw opened the door, her normally-pleasant expression quickly morphed into one of alarm...

...but instead of asking me if I needed her to call an ambulance, she just said, "Hello, Alyssa. Mr. Shaw will be here in any minute to-oh, wait! There he is now."

Immediately I spun around and saw his car pulling into the driveway, and although I was still really winded, I flew down there to meet him...

...and the instant he rolled down his window, my hand, holding the envelope, shot through it.

With an appreciative smile, he said, "Hello, Alyssa. Thank you for bring-"

"Hi-Mr-Shaw-nice-to-see-you-again-congrats-on-your-closing-have-a-great-day-bye!" I exclaimed...

...and then, with a fast, parting wave to Mrs. Shaw...

...and trying to ignore the stitch that clawed painfully at my side, I rushed down the street again, this time in the opposite direction.

Two blocks later, in the distance I saw a construction site I'd passed earlier, while heading down Delancey...

...and suddenly, I had an idea.

That property runs from street-to-street and so, I realized, if I take a short cut through there it'll save me a full block of travel and I'll get home that much sooner!

As I hurried toward it, I noticed that while there was no crew in sight today, they had almost finished digging the foundation. The other side of the lot space was taken up by numerous heaps of building supplies...

...and as I sized everything up carefully, I saw a clear pathway through all of these, with only minimal zig-zagging required...

...and best of all, there was no fence to climb over!

And so, the instant I reached it, I veered off the sidewalk and onto the lot, the sound of gravel crunching loudly under my feet announcing that I was now officially trespassing.

And then, at top speed, I ran down between two piles of steel beams...

...past a long pyramid of stacked drain pipes...

...and finally, around the corner of a tall pallet of red bricks...

...but unfortunately, I didn't see the stray cinder block on the ground, over on its far side...

...and tripped.

When I did, I was traveling at such velocity that I was unable to regain my balance, and instead hurtled forward headfirst...

...and then downward...

...and as I saw what lay directly under me, I frantically threw my arms out in front of me, trying to break the fall with my hands...

...and two seconds later, my palms hit the surface of the wide, deep puddle, sending a shower of dense orange mud flying up into the air...

...and into my hair...

...right before they disappeared, almost up to my elbows, into the muck.

A second later, my chest and the lower part of my face followed suit, slamming into the puddle with such force that it knocked the wind out of me...

...and as I sank down into it, I felt a heavy wave of sludge roll over across my back, now covering both sides of me all the way down to my ankles.

With effort, I managed to raise my upper half up, gasping for breath.

A few seconds later, I tried to stand up, which required putting my feet under me (covering them with sludge as well), but the heavy viscosity and weight of the mud made this too difficult, and the only option was to actually crawl out of it.

I inched forward until finally, a minute later, I was lying face-down on solid ground next to it, still struggling to catch my breath and thankful that none of it got in my mouth, or even worse, my eyes!

Finally, I managed to struggle to my feet.

I looked down, aghast, finding myself covered in dark orange grime. I tried to brush off at least some of it, but the mud's sludgy consistency made this impossible and a heavy layer of it clung to me - front and back, and from chin to feet - like wet cement.

Desperate to get the hell out of there - and while doing my best to ignore the open-mouthed stares of numerous drivers and pedestrians - I rushed home, every step punctuated by the repetitive squish-squash sound my sneakers made as I ran/limped toward my house.

The second I reached the bottom end of the driveway, my heart sank even further as I noticed Emma's truck parked there.

CRAP!

The last thing I want is for her to see me like this! No, wait, that's the second-to-last thing...

...because the last thing I want is for her to witness Mom murdering me, which she's definitely about to do!

My hands and arms were too muddy to touch the door, so I knocked on it with my forehead and yelled, "Mom?"

Seconds later, I heard the latch click and as Mom swung the door open, she said, "Well, you're home earl-oh, my God...what happened?!"

Since there was no other option but to tell the truth, I said, "On my way back, I took a shortcut through a construction site and tripped."

"It looks more like you fell down ten mountainsides!"

As I took a step toward the threshold, she said "No, don't come in yet! Just...wait out there for a minute."

As she hurried down the hall, I looked through the doorway and over to my left...

...and saw Emma sitting on the couch, staring over the back of it, and directly at me, in wide-eyed disbelief...

...but before I could field any questions from her, Mom came running back, holding two large garbage bags.

Immediately, she shook one open and held it out toward me.

"Alyssa, take off your sneakers."

Once I had done this and dropped them into the bag, she said, "And now your socks."

I did, and then she laid the other garbage bag on the floor, just inside the entrance and said, "All right. Come inside and stand on this."

Mom closed the door behind me, then held out the first bag again and said, "Take off your sweater."

Since the mud was beginning to dry on this, it clung to me, but I managed to pull it over my head.

"And now, your pants."

With difficulty, I wrestled off my wet, muddy jeans.

Mom looked me up and down, asking, "When you landed, did you hurt yourself? Do I need to check you for bruises?"

I cringed. Even though several parts of me did hit pretty hard, this whole situation is already embarrassing enough - especially the way Emma keeps staring at me...

...and so, not wanting to prolong the agony, I said, "No, honest!"

Mom looked less than convinced, but finally nodded and said, "I'm going to put all of this in the utility sink to soak. Now, run upstairs and take a very long, very hot shower, and scrub yourself well from head to toe because it's all through your hair, too. Also, while you're up there, put your bra and panties in the sink with hot water and lots of soap. Later I'll see if they can be salvaged."

In dismay, I looked down at what only 20 minutes ago had been a white bra and pastel yellow panties, both now badly stained a hideous shade of dark orange/brown.

Well, I reflected, at least my jeans and sweater are dark, so there's a pretty good chance they won't be ruined. Also-

"Now, Alyssa!" Mom ordered...

...and realizing that my mind was wandering, I gasped, then ran upstairs and into the bathroom.

Even though the mud was sludgy, it had seeped all the way through my clothes and clung to me, covering most of my skin; and I stared at myself in the mirror, shocked.

I've never been so filthy in my life!

The first thing I did was pull off my undies and throw them into the sink; but since my hands were too cruddy to touch the taps, I decide to get cleaned up first before filling it.

Instead I turned the shower on, and then stepped inside and closed the curtain...

...and immediately discovered that I had yet another problem to deal with.

A very serious one.

As soon as the hot water hit me, this gravelly muck began to give off an atrocious, hot tar/ammonia smell...

...and oh, God, it was so gross!

I know I keep referring to this orange stuff as gravel, but instead of having the airy, sandy texture that gravel usually does, it actually had a clay-like consistency, which made it incredibly difficult to get off me...especially out of my hair!

The last thing I wanted to do was spend a long time up here while Emma was waiting for me downstairs, but between the mud itself and the disgusting smell, I absolutely did not have a choice. After lathering up my hair with a generous amount of shampoo, I grabbed my Buff Puff sponge, which I use in the shower daily to exfoliate, and after considerable effort finally managed to get the clay off my body...

...but unfortunately, the awful smell lingered, and it took four more scrubbings to remove it completely.

My hair smelled even worse, so I was forced to wash it over and over...

...until, after the ninth time, it finally stopped reeking and now smelled like our coconut shampoo.

Relieved, I conditioned it and then washed myself from top to bottom one last time. Finally I rinsed off...

...but then had to spend even more time cleaning out the tub, because the bottom was covered from end to end with a tenacious blanket of accumulated sludge.

Next I threw away the now-empty shampoo bottle, then ran over to the sink, added hot water and a generous amount of hand soap to the basin, and swished everything around vigorously.

After a fast dry off and brushing my hair straight back, I ran down the hall to my room (stark naked, but don't you dare tell Mom!) and got dressed as quickly as I could.

I didn't want to waste even more time on tying shoes, so even though I am NOT allowed to do this, I decided to skip wearing them entirely. Hey, I'm already in hella trouble anyway, so what's a little more yelling?

And then, I ran out of my bedroom and hurried down the hall...

...but as I approached the staircase, I slowed my pace considerably...

...because I knew what awaited down there: Mom humiliating me in front of Emma by yelling at me for trespassing, falling, carelessness, etc.

But since there's no way out of it, I might as well get it over with, I thought, and began descending the stairs...

...but halfway down, I came to a complete stop.

And stared.

And then, with a smile that felt a mile wide, I sneaked down the rest of the way...

...and then tiptoed across the living room, past the couch...

...and over to the right-hand wing chair (not Mom's favorite - the other one).

Sitting down as quietly as possible, I looked across the coffee table...

...over to the couch...

...where Mom and Emma sat together, hip to hip, with one of Mom's massive cook books spread open across their laps...

...looking at it - and each other - while talking excitedly.

A moment later, Mom sensed I was there and looked up...

...and Emma followed her eye line...

...but not wanting to interrupt such a lovely moment, I said, "Carry on; don't mind me."

Then they turned back toward each other and Mom said, "No, I haven't tried that one. I'm not sure if they sell Cheshire, although they might have smoked Gouda."

She paused, then added, "I'll tell you what. Sometime in the near future, when I go to the grocery store, I'll take you with me and we'll see see what kind of cheeses we can find. You can pick out whichever ones you like and then, instead of just one, we'll make several different kinds of grilled cheese sandwiches...do you like tomato soup?"

"I love it!" Emma said. "Can I make another suggestion?"

"Of course," Mom said. "What's that?"

"Have you ever heard of panettone? It's like...an Italian sweet bread."

"Yes, I've tried that," Mom answered.

"Well," Emma said, "I'll bet it could be used to make some wicked French toast."

Mom said, "That's an excellent idea! While we're out shopping, we'll grab one of those, too, and we'll have you over for both breakfast and lunch. How does that sound?"

"I'd love to!"

"Well, all right, then," Mom said, "pannetone French toast, assorted gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, and tomato soup. Is there anything else you'd like me to make for you?"

Emma hesitated, but then asked, "Do you think that maybe sometime, in the kitchen, we could...make something together?"

"I'd like that," Mom said with a smile...

...and Emma looked so incredibly thrilled...

...but instead of me sharing her joy, all of this made me feel incredibly sad.

To be so excited about a trip to the grocery store and an afternoon in the kitchen...

...I mean, it all sounds very nice, but is the reason she's so ecstatic because she never got to do this type of stuff with her own parents? How about with her grandmother? I still couldn't figure out what was up with her grandmother. I've always been taught not to prejudge others, especially if I've never met them, but based on Emma's actions, I just don't get a loving/affectionate vibe when I try to picture her.

Someday soon, I have to ask Emma about her family...

...and have her tell me everything.

But, then again, I told myself, you still should be happy for Emma anyway...because of how much she's enjoying Mom's attention.

Mom closed the cookbook. "Emma, it's time for lunch, so go wash your hands," she said...

...and then smiled as she watched Emma walk down the hall.

Ten minutes later, we all sat down to shrimp salad with tomatoes and shredded romaine lettuce in pita pockets, with sides of cold cucumber soup.

I was surprised that, the instant my butt hit the dining room chair Mom didn't start criticizing me for my construction site "mishap." I fully expected a long lecture on how careless I had been, and to be reminded of how she'd already scolded me in the past for trespassing, etc.

However, she didn't...

...and not wanting her to start, I decided to take charge of things and steer the conversation myself. Turning to her, I asked, "Did you see the story in last week's paper about the New Jersey garbage man who won the lottery?"

Mom nodded. "Yes, I did. I think he ended up with 173 million."

With visions of dollar signs dancing in my head, I asked, "Mom, can we play the Powerball Mega Cash Smash sometime?"

Mom turned in her seat and glared at me. "Absolutely not!"

(This was followed by a ten minute screed on the Evils of Gambling - I'll spare you the details.)

Once she'd finished "educating" me on the subject, I looked across the table and said, "Emma, if you had that much money and didn't have to work, do you have any idea what you'd do?"

"I know exactly what I would do," she answered. "I'd dig up the Oak Island treasure."

Mom nodded "Yes, I've heard of that...and it's a fascinating story."

"What's Oak Island," I asked.

Emma said, "Oak Island is off the coast of Nova Scotia, and on it is a very deep, 200 year-old "treasure pit"...but since the site was deliberately designed with a number of booby traps, no one's managed to get the treasure out yet."

I thought this over for a moment, then asked, "Why would you even need the treasure? You'd already be rich."

Emma shook her head. "I wouldn't do it for the money or jewels, but because of the historic value. Those items belong in a museum."

"Do you like museums?" Mom asked her.

Emma nodded. "Yes; it's too bad there aren't any here in Edgewater. Most of the exhibits I've seen so far were actually on TV shows or in books."

Ten minutes later, Mom got up and cleared the dishes...

...and as she carried them into the kitchen, Emma leaned far across the table toward me and said, in a low voice, "One other thing about Oak Island; the treasure site's cursed. Six people have already died, and according to legend there's supposed to be one more victim...so, I was thinking maybe we could sacrifice King Konger? We'll be free of her and the ghosts will get someone as evil as they are, so it's a win/win!"

I laughed...

...then Emma said, "And after that, we're going to-"

Suddenly she stopped speaking...

...as Mom walked in carrying three dishes of raspberry sorbet.

"Time for dessert...and get your elbows off the table, young lady!" she added, giving Emma a Very Pointed Look.

"Sorry," Emma replied, sitting back up straight.

Oh, by the way, Reason #3,979 why I love Emma: Whenever she comes over, Mom serves dessert!

Once we'd finished, Mom began to clear the table and Emma got to her feet. Mom saw her looking toward the front door and said, "You're welcome to stay for awhile."

Emma glanced at her watch and said, "I can hang out for another 45 minutes, but I have to leave at 4 for a prom committee meeting."

Mom nodded, and with her arms full of dishes disappeared into the kitchen.

Since I'd had no advance notice she was coming over, I couldn't think of a single way to entertain Emma (that didn't consist of climbing all over her!), so I asked, "What would you like to do?"

She thought it over for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any pictures we can look at?"

"Well, let's see...our older photo albums, like the ones with Mom and Great Grandmom Belle, are stored in the basement, but I think there's a more recent one around here somewhere."

I looked through the bookcases until I found it, then sat down right next to Emma on the couch. I was so appreciative that Mom was trusting us enough to be left alone in the living room that I decided, right then and there, not to kiss Emma...or even touch her at all.

Although this photo album is a very big one, the entire thing is filled with pictures of only me. That's mainly because we're small a small family; Dad is long gone and I have no aunts or uncles, etc.

As I turned the first several pages, Emma said, "Awww, you were such an adorable baby! Look at all that curly brown hair!"

She leaned forward, taking a closer look, then added, "But why are you wearing a bib in every single photo?"

I blushed at this question, but answered, "Because I drooled...all the time. My nickname used to be Slobberchops."

Well, Emma thought this was hilarious.

The next section was a huge, chronological collection of pictures of me in both elementary and high school. Every single time I win anything, no matter how trivial, Mom's usual M.O. is to fling me up against the fireplace and start snapping away with her camera, so there were endless photos of me standing in front of it.

Emma looked at all of these with great interest...and asked a thousand questions...

...and the two of us laughed a lot...

...and it was so much fun that I didn't want the afternoon to end!

But finally, we got to the end of the book, and after I turned last page Emma glanced at the clock.

As she got up off the couch, saying, "Well, I have to get going," Mom walked in.

Noticing the album, she said, "Oh, was Alyssa showing you her pictures?"

Emma nodded...

...then reached down and picked it up off the coffee table, and asked, "Can I please borrow this? I promise I'll give it back in a few days."

Mom looked a little surprised at this request, but said, "Yes, of course."

The two of us walked Emma over to the front door, then I turned to Mom and asked, "Can Emma come over again tomorrow?"

Mom shook her head. "Alyssa, we can't monopolize all her free time. We have to share Emma with her grandmother...not to mention with the rest of the world! Besides, you have a term paper due in a few days."

"But, I'm almost done with that!" I protested.

"How many pages did you finish so far?" Mom asked.

"Fourteen or fifteen. I know I'll be done by Tuesday, at the latest...so, when can she come over again?" I asked.

"We'll see," was Mom's vague, infuriating answer. This was especially frustrating since there were auto shop classes both Monday and Tuesday, plus we were off from school on Wednesday...which means that I won't get to spend any time with Emma until Thursday at the earliest!

However, the way she had answered made it clear that begging wouldn't work, so I didn't try.

Mom turned to Emma and said, "I've been thinking about what you said earlier. It might not be for a couple of weeks, but instead of just one dish, why don't you plan an entire dinner menu for a Saturday or Sunday evening? I'll be off from work, so we'll have all afternoon to make it together."

Emma nodded and said, "I'm really looking forward to it...and thanks for inviting me over again. I always h-have such a nice time here; not just with Alyssa, b-but also-"

She couldn't finish...

...but she didn't need to. Mom looked down at her and saw Emma's shy smile...

...and smiled back...

...then reached over and brushed the hair off her forehead. "I do, too, Emma."

At that moment, the mantel clock struck. "Now run along; don't be late for your prom committee meeting," she said...

...and with our photo album under her arm, Emma hurried out the door.

Mom watched through our front bay window as Emma drove away, then turned to me and asked, "Why do you think she wants to borrow that?"

With an impudent smirk, I answered, "Well, she didn't say...but there can only be one reason: to show me off to her Grandmom...and as gorgeous as I am, can you blame her?"

In response, Mom reached behind me and gave me a solid whack on the ass.

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