Ancestral Magic
“I don’t know why she keeps doing that, Megan.” The grey-haired woman in the blue and green flowered housedress pursed her lips and shook her head.
Meg chuckled and surveyed the damage that had been done to the screen on the elderly woman’s front door. There was an indentation in the mesh and a tear at about mid-calf height. Meg looked over at the beagle and smiled. “Maybe Angel just wants to see what’s going on in the neighborhood.”
“I’m sorry to drag you out here.”
“No trouble at all, Mrs. Bianchi.” Meg took the roll of dark screen out of her canvas bag and the roll of spline. “I thought instead of patching up the hole this time, we might just replace the screen with some damage resistant wire cloth. That way Angel can have her view without ruining your screen.”
“You are such a good neighbor, Megan.” Mrs. Bianchi bent down and scratched her dog between his floppy ears. “My son will be in town next week. He is a very successful businessman. Sells technology and doodads out East. He’s very handsome and smart. Quiet a catch, and he’d adore a strong, independent woman like you.”
“Mrs. Bianchi, I like women, remember?” Meg suppressed a laugh. Mrs. Bianchi was well intentioned, but also a wee bit senile.
“Oh, yes. I forgot.” Mrs. Bianchi smiled and nodded. “You were dating that artist weren’t you? Mindy, Mandy…”
“Marty.” Meg walked over to the screen and removed a flathead screwdriver from her tool belt. “She went back to Jacksonville last month. Something about a job at a community center there.”
“Pity. She seemed like a nice girl.” Mrs. Bianchi tutted sympathetically. Angel barked and wagged his tail, as he looked up at Mrs. Bianchi. “Oh, yes. It’s time for your walk isn’t it, sweetie? We’ll be back soon, Megan. Angel needs to…” Mrs. Bianchi’s voice lowered to a whisper. “To go potty.”
Meg’s face scrunched as she snickered. Mrs. Bianchi and her dog walked out of the room toward the kitchen, and soon Meg heard the backdoor open and close with a thump.
The smile faded as her thought returned to Marty. She was a nice woman, and in truth the two of them had lasted longer than most of Meg’s relationships. Ten months she and Meg had been a couple before Marty decided their relationship just wasn’t going anywhere and moved on.
It went like that with every woman Meg had ever been with. They were all good women, strong, creative, and intelligent. Things would be going well, good times, great sex, and then after awhile, it just all felt apart. They wanted commitment. They wanted emotional attachment. Meg just couldn’t give those things. How could you open your heart to someone else, when you lost it long ago to another?
She carefully removed the metal frame of the screen from the door and placed it on the laminate floor in the front hall. Taking the screwdriver, Meg slowly pried out the spline holding the metal cloth in place. She didn’t mind jobs like this. People like Mrs. Bianchi were good neighbors, and her mother had considered the woman a good friend. Every week the two older women would get together to play poker in Mrs. Bianchi’s kitchen and talk about their kids and grandkids.
When Peggy died, Mrs. Bianchi insisted on having the memorial at her house and cooking a big meal for the lot of them. Having her mother’s friend with them during that time had brought Meg a lot of comfort, and in many ways helping Mrs. Bianchi was like doing something special for her mom. Nothing else could match that feeling.
Meg slid the tape measure from her belt and measured the old screen. Then carefully unrolling the new sturdier cloth, she marked the new screen off with a bit of chalk. After she set her tools aside, Meg pulled the snips from her belt and was about to start cutting when her cell phone vibrated in her shirt pocket.
“Crud.” Meg set the snips aside and pulled the telephone out of her pocket, flipping it open with her thumb. She saw the caller ID screen and grinned. She didn’t mind that particular interruption. “Hey, Sky. What’s up?”
“Can you grab Drake from school today? I might be home late and I want to make sure someone’s with him.”
“Sure I can. I’ll finish up here and be there in fifteen minutes.” Meg could hear a tremor in Sky voice and her body tensed. “Sky? What’s going on?”
“Some lawyer wants to talk with me. He won’t say what it’s about. I told him to meet me down at Miss Katie’s.”
“I’ll call Kelly on my way to pick up Drake.” Meg rubbed her chin with her forefinger as she thought. “I think she’s on shift at the diner. Kelly’ll keep an eye out to make sure there’s no trouble.”
“I figure if I went to Miss Katie’s, if it went bad I could drown my sorrows in a plate of cheddar cheese fries and a big chocolate malt.”
Meg prided herself at being a healthy eater and the thought off all the grease and sugar in one sitting made her cringe. Well, if for nothing else but the sake of your arteries, I hope it goes well.” Meg smiled as Sky chuckled on the other end. “See you back at your place?”
“Soon as I can.”
“It’ll be okay, Sky. No matter what, we’ll fix it.” Meg flipped the phone closed and held it in her hand. She wished stuff like that was as easy to fix as a door or a faucet. Whatever this lawyer wanted, Meg didn’t imagine it was good.
“Was that Drake’s mom on the phone, Megan?” Mrs. Bianchi’s voice called from the kitchen.
Meg’s eyes widened and she turned towards the doorway. The old woman’s mind might be leaking a little, but her ears were as sharp as ever. “Yes, Mrs. Bianchi. I have to pick him up from school as soon as I finish with your door.”
“Oh, that’s just fine then.” The smell of warm pumpkin and ginger wafted out into the hall as Angel pushed his way through the kitchen door. “Let me send you with some biscotti and zuppa. I have a nice thick minestra in an ice cream tub in the deep freezer. It’ll keep until you get the boy home.”
“Thanks, that would be nice.” Meg smiled and turned back to finish repairing the screen door. Mrs. Bianchi was a very good person. Many times she had sent Meg home with some of her zuppa. It was generally some sort of soup thickened with bread. La Zuppa fa sette cose Mrs. Bianchi called it. In Italy that meant something that not only made you happy and content by filling your belly, but it also healed your spirit. In this country it was called comfort food, and after that phone call, comfort sounded like exactly what her family would need tonight.
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