Chapter Eighty-Six
“Crackers gave me a little bite to show that she loved me,” Puck said bravely. “And I took it like a man.”
That was last night before he fell asleep.
This morning… Puck has really enjoyed the whole ballroom dancing idea lately. He spontaneously called me up for another number today. I couldn’t figure out why he kept almost tripping me until the newsflash hit my brain – he wanted to “dip” me.
“Fall back, Mom. I’ll catch you. I promise.”
Grandma Combs was waiting for all of us, everyone but Joe who was getting another day of work up at the library. Not for the library, but at. Lunch with Jaya. Dinner with Jaya, and friends. One busy son of a gun. Anyway, Grandma Combs always does things up with extra care. While the pilot of “Wild at Heart” played as background on the television, she dished up chili, pulled pork on soft Goldfish bread, cheeses, crackers, and cookies and scones for dessert. Francis stretched himself out on the carpet after the meal.
“Wake up!” Grandma ordered, throwing a damp dish rag at him.
“Hey!” Francis protested. “It’s your fault for putting all that good food in me.”
He patted his gut with both hands.
We had a few minutes at Nagle’s, too. Red coral soap, velvet coloring posters, Andes mints… Puck had two dollars to spend, one that Carrie pulled out of his ear.
“Hey, what’ve you got in there?” she asked him, crinkling the bill behind his ear.
“I already know, Sun. It’s a dollar,” he grinned.
So one dollar and twenty-nine cents went to the two-pack of sticky slappy hands, which he slapped into things all the way home, whisking away receipts and envelopes from “unsuspecting” hands. And then another thirty-nine cents for a small bottle of magic disappearing ink. The Bear was very proud. Linnea had Cardinals earrings for seven dollars. Carrie added a pack of Big League Chew. She finished the entire thing before we got back.
“How long will it be before this hand doesn’t stick to things anymore?” Puck wanted to know as we left Florissant.
“It’ll stick to things forever,” Carrie told him. From experience. “As long as you wash it when it gets fuzzy. But only water. No soap.”
“Ok, Sun. I might forget. Take away all the soap, Mom.”
“Talk about a Spongebob solution,” Carrie grinned.
Mom arranged some fresh yellow blossoms in glass before taking a nap. Puck counted the batteries in the super pack from Costco. We had waited in the car while Mom and Carrie did the heavy work. Avocados, bananas, sour cream, gallons of milk, Ghirardelli brownie mix for Easter, and other boxes and sacks of things that are just too much food stuffs to finish before it goes bad. But I guess not if you have Dad, Joe, and Francis all living under the same roof.
“Ughm…” Puck moaned a little as he watched Mom snip stems. “My growing pains have been really hurting me lately. I wish they were on my arm.”
He was running around in shorts, which he sneaked under his cherry red gym pants this morning, because apparently he wants to be “like Uncle Joe” and walk around in shorts during the winter. Yes, I think it’s still winter. Then he snagged a stem of half-opened blossoms and presented them to me as “a surprise”.
Francis walked in the door from his two o’clock interview at the Rec-Plex. He would be transferring in April from the Y.
Carrie pieced together a corn meal grinder, forcing through handfuls of organic corn soaked in pickling lime for the tortilla press. While Mom, Linnea, and Puck dyed the eggs with White Rabbit dye from Nagle’s, that “St. Louis tradition since 1888”.
“Let’s put the eggs in this lane,” Puck tried to instruct Linnea too much on her artistry.
The Bear drove home after a chat with Red Strike. Tomato soup. Drop biscuits. I took in a little more Bollywood myself. This time at Carrie’s recommendation. I can’t say I’ve got her hooked, but she agrees there’s something catchy about these shocking films from the other side of the world.