The Lovely Shadow Page 17

  I laughed at her joke and tried desperately to glance around her to find out what was cooking. Seeing anything around Miss Lilly’s robust frame was an exercise in futility and I soon gave up.

  “Wha’choo be lookin’ fo’, Child? You be swingin’ you’s head aroun’ like a catfish floppin’ out de water.”

  “Sorry Miss Lilly,” I replied, “I was trying to see what you were cooking, it smells delicious.”

  Miss Lilly laughed and said, “You be in fo’ a real treat tonight, Boo. All dat talkin’ ‘bout gumbo earlier got me tinkin’ dat I be wantin’ some gumbo fo’ supper tonight. Now dis gonna be a chicken gumbo, fo’ ‘cause we ain’t got no crawdaddies o’ shrimp layin’ ‘bout, but we does got plenty o’ chicken.”

  My stomach rumbled at the smell of heaven that Miss Lilly was creating and she must have seen the hunger in my eyes, for she said, “Child, you be lookin’ like you be needin’ some grub. You jes’ go have youself a seat out there in de dinin’ room an’ let Miss Lilly whip you up a sammich. I done got de roux done a’ready an’ de rest o’ dis gumbo don’ take much work so I got’s plenty o’ time. Go on now, git on witch’a self, git scootin’ out my kitchen.”

  I giggled heartily as Miss Lilly pretended to chase me out of her kitchen like an old farmer’s wife scattering the chickens as she enters the chicken coop to collect the eggs, shouting ‘shoo, shoo’ at me the whole time, and went to wait in the dining area.

  I sat at the table and stared out the large window near the entry door, watching the lazy summer day drifting away like so much sand through an hourglass. After a few moments of happy daydreaming I noticed a car kicking up dirt far out beyond the lawn, on the long unpaved drive that led to the house.

  I traced its slow progress without really having much interest in it, until it got close enough to make out that it was June’s car. My heart leapt for joy in my chest, and I was surprised to realize just how much I’d grown to love the woman I’d only met the previous night.

  I watched the car pull into the driveway that paralleled the lawn but lost sight of it as it neared the garage. I got up from my chair and moved closer to the door and waited directly in front of it.

  I listened to the motor shut off, and I stared at the door. My attention was singular, like a cat stalking its prey. If I’d had a tail it would have twitched occasionally as I waited and watched.

  I listened to the car door slam, and a second or two later I heard it slam again a little louder than before. I wondered briefly if it had not shut properly the first time. I crouched slightly, waiting for my prey.

  The time seemed to tick on for an eternity as I waited. I was eager and impatient, but I had recently become acclimated to sitting around waiting for things to happen and so was able to withstand the torture of waiting for June to open the door.

  My attention was so singularly focused on the door that it never dawned on me to watch the window to see when June walked by. It was just as well, because the suspense of not knowing when she would open the door was more enjoyable than the knowledge would have been.

  I heard steps on the stairs, I heard the muffled murmur of a voice and wondered briefly how often June talked to herself. Having conversed with myself rather a lot over the last couple of weeks I didn’t hold the same bias against the act that many other people did, and did not think it strange that June should do it.

  The door knob rattled. I crouched deeper. The door started to swing open. When it was halfway open I launched my attack. I screamed out June’s name like a savage hunter taking on a rhinoceros with naught but a spear and sprinted towards the opening doorway.

  “JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNE!” I screamed as I ran. When I was still about three feet away from her I jumped up in the air towards her, opening my arms wide, fully trusting that she would catch me and wrap me up in the bear hug I desired.

  I was already airborne when I saw that June’s attention was not forward, facing into the house, but rather, her head was turned to the side, looking behind her. I had only one split second to think as I flew towards her, and the singular thought that passed through my head in that moment was ‘oops’.

  June heard my savage cry and whipped her head around just in time to see that I had recently defied gravity and was flying towards her at supersonic velocity. Her eyes widened dramatically, and she let out a small scream. She threw her arms up in the air, releasing a multitude of papers that she had been carrying as she did so.

  June did not have quite enough time to fully brace herself for my impact but had still managed to brace herself enough not to fall over completely when we contacted, but she did stumble backwards a step or two.

  I landed squarely into June’s arms and she somehow caught me. As June’s arms wrapped around me, her small scream of shock ended, but curiously another gasp of shock was emitted from behind her.

  For just a split second I thought June’s butt had vocalized the scream. But then I saw that a woman with a far more robust frame than even Miss Lilly was cart-wheeling her arms as she teetered backwards, having been hit by June’s mute rump when she’d stumbled backwards.

  The huge woman fell backwards in slow motion, like a tree falling in the woods. Beginning her topple slowly and picking up speed as she fell. She screamed during the entire descent to the ground and landed hard on her huge bottom, making a squishy sound—like a water balloon bursting—that was audible even over her shriek.

  June’s face was a perfect mask of shock and concern as she rapidly descended the stairs, still holding me, and said, “Oh my God! Mrs. Fischer, are you ok? I’m so sorry.”

  I was not about to let go of June, and she managed to continue holding me with one arm as she reached her other arm down to the recently beached Mrs. Fischer.

  Mrs. Fischer sat on the ground for a minute and had, thankfully, stopped screaming. I stared unabashedly at her. I had never seen so large a person, even less one in such a state of disarray.

  She was dressed in a drab gray outfit. Gray slacks, gray jacket, highly polished black shoes, and a white blouse beneath the jacket. Her suit would likely have looked very professional at any other time, however at that moment in time she did not have the luxury of appearing dignified and looked very much like a juvenile elephant instead.

  In her crumpled, elephantine state, one black shoe had fallen off and lay beside her, revealing pink socks with images of kitten faces printed on them. The legs of her slacks had pulled up revealing large, pasty-white, lumpy calves. The crotch of her slacks had bunched up tightly, and I winced unintentionally at the wrinkles and folds of flesh that were outlined beneath the tight fabric, and imagined how uncomfortable pants that were bunched that tightly would be for me.

  Her jacket and blouse had also pulled up several inches showing off two rolls of lumpy, puckered white flesh that hung down over the waist line of her slacks. The sloppy rolls of flesh reminded me of a soft serve ice cream cone that had begun to melt.

  Her heavily mascara and eyeshadow dressed eyes were wide open, but still looked tiny when set against the massive backdrop of her sagging face. Gigantic flabby cheeks appeared to intrude into the lower rims of her eyes, the sides of her piggish nose, and her mouth all at once, giving her face a scrunched up appearance like a pug puppy.

  She was gasping for air, opening and closing her tiny mouth in over-exaggerated gestures, opening it wide on each swift inhale, and puckering it on each rapid exhale. Each time she exhaled her jowls inflated and then jiggled as they decompressed.

  Mrs. Fischer’s over rouged cheeks had reddened even further, emphasizing the fact that all of her makeup appeared to have been applied with a trowel. Her excessive amounts of makeup gave her an overall countenance every bit as charming as that of a dead and bloated clown.

  Her auburn hair was neatly combed and had not budged a fraction of an inch during all of the chaos that had recently beset the poor woman, indicating that voluminous amounts of hairspray had been applied.

  I marveled at the bromdingnagian re
fugee, wondering how someone who obviously put a lot more effort into her appearance than her exercise regimen could still look so alarmingly repulsive.

  After a minute, the behemoth squatting on her prodigious rump on the front lawn managed to calm herself down enough to realize that June’s hand was still extended to her and that June’s face was still agape in an expression of concern and fear.

  Mrs. Fischer reached up and took June’s hand to pull herself up. I had a moment of fear then, certain that we were all going to tumble to the ground together as soon as this woman’s full weight pulled against June’s dainty frame.

  My fear proved unfounded. With a couple of somewhat unladylike grunts, and a very unladylike fart, the gargantuan girl gained her feet once more and immediately began smoothing out her clothing.

  “Are you ok, Mrs. Fischer? I’m so, so very sorry!” June apologized.

  Mrs. Fischer finished her primping, located her shoe, and put it back on before she could be bothered to reply to June.

  “Miss Devon,” the woman said in a wheezy, panting voice while giving June a stern glare, “as a social worker, I have suffered many indignities from the families I’m investigating, and have been forcefully removed from many porches over the years. But never…never, in all my time—in all my many cases—have I ever been thrown from a porch by someone’s ass!”

  June looked horrified, assuming that she had just committed a grievous crime against the poor, bovine woman. I felt pretty bad myself, knowing that in reality the corpulent woman’s tumble had been my fault, but that June was going to take the blame.

  Then, unexpectedly, Mrs. Fischer’s countenance softened and she smiled a broad smile, eventually breaking out into a breathy laugh that reminded me of a particular cartoon canine who hung around with a criminal.

  “I do hope I have not dented your magnificent lawn beyond repair, Miss Devon,” Mrs. Fischer said through her raspy laughter, and her whole body undulated as she laughed.

  June’s countenance of fear changed into one of confusion, and finally into one of relief as she understood that the woman had only been feigning anger. June began to giggle, quietly at first, but then louder and louder until she was positively shaking with laughter, and she had to set me on the ground to keep from dropping me.

  I stared at the two women who were both lost in fits of laughter and had a mental image of a cucumber and a pumpkin telling jokes to each other in the garden. The vivid image in my mind made me laugh along with the ladies.

  Eventually the commotion and howling laughter drew Miss Lilly out onto the porch to investigate the ruckus. She burst forth from the opened door and stood there with her eyes opened wide revealing two huge white orbs with dark pools in the center. She was holding her wooden spoon up like a medieval mace; ready to brain anybody who might be causing harm to her family.

  “What in de holy Hell be goin’ on out here?” Miss Lilly demanded to know. “All dis hootin’ an’ carryin’ on be soundin’ like de weasel done got in de henhouse!”

  The sight of Miss Lilly rushing fearlessly into what could have been a formidable fray should have had a sobering effect on the three of us—and I was, in fact, sobered a little—until I glanced down and saw the dent that Mrs. Fisher’s butt had actually left in the grass. At the sight of the concave in the lawn I lost my wits all over again.

  Miss Lilly was not amused by our revelry. She crossed her arms and stood at the top of the steps, tapping her foot impatiently. Her puffy pink lips were pressed so tightly into a small pucker that they’d turned white, all the blood having been forced from them, and her recently immense eyes were considerably narrower than they had been when she emerged from the door.

  “You’s all bes’ be knockin’ off dat jack-jawin’ an’ be getting’ to tellin’ Miss Lilly what be goin’ on out here, o’ else I gonna be bustin’ some heads wit dis here spoon!”

  We did our best to mollify ourselves, and managed to pull it off after a few more snorts, chuckles, and particularly from Mrs. Fisher—farts.

  June set about gathering all the papers she had scattered when I leapt into her arms, and explained the events that had led to such an uproar as she did so.

  When June was done explaining, Miss Lilly just shook her head, clucked her tongue a few times, and said, “Wit all de people fallin’ on dey butts today it be a miracle if we be needin’ any toilet paper by de end o’ de day. Ever’body gonna bust dey butts right off’n dey backsides afore dark, fo’ sho’.”

  We all had a laugh at Miss Lilly’s dire prediction, including Miss Lilly, and then June said, “Well, let’s go into the house and have seat before we do any more damage. Lilly, will you please sit with us in the living room?”

  “If dis be ‘bout keepin’ Boo roun’ here den you could no’ keep me away wit a pack o’ wild gators!” Lilly responded.

  I smiled inside and out, feeling the love of June and Miss Lilly radiating from them like heat from a floor register. Even when Joe had been alive, I had never felt so much love directed towards me.

  We all entered the living room and sat down. I sat in between June and Miss Lilly on one couch and Mrs. Fischer took up nearly the entire couch opposite us, all by herself.

  After June had introduced all of us formally, Mrs. Fischer began talking in her wheezy voice.

  “Ok, as you know, I’m here as a representative of the State of Washington, in order to determine whether or not remaining in this residence would be in the best interest of young Mr. Krimshaw.”

  Miss Lilly took a personal affront to the possibility that anybody might possibly dare to think that this might not be the best place for me and said, “O’ course dis be de bes’ place for de Johnny! Here him got’s all de love and care dat him not be getting’ from dat kooky woman dat done give birth to him! If anybody tink dey gonna find de boy a better home den dis, den dey be dumber den a dead fish!”

  June put her arm across me to pat Miss Lilly’s thigh and shushed her gently. “Let the lady finish, Lilly, it’ll all be ok I’m sure,” she said.

  June’s voice betrayed the fact that she was not nearly as sure as she professed to be. But Miss Lilly hushed herself anyway, and instead of grumbling, she glowered across the coffee table at the porcine geisha.

  Both June and Miss Lilly put a protective hand on my legs as Mrs. Fischer continued.

  “Normally, in a situation where abuse is so obvious, the State will sweep in and take immediate custody of the abused or neglected child…”

  I hoped the elephantine lady would not notice that I was currently being abused right before her very eyes, as both June and Miss Lilly were digging their fingernails absentmindedly into the fleshy part of my thighs.

  “…however, this is an exceptional case, which would explain why I wanted to come out here with you today, Miss Devon, to conduct the preliminary interview as quickly as possible, and spare the child any further distress.”

  The grip on my thigh on June’s side lightened up to something slightly less than unbearably painful. However Miss Lilly still seemed to be trying to strangle a boa constrictor that was hidden in my jeans.

  The rotund representative of the State continued, “I have a list of questions that I was going to ask Johnny, but…”

  The death grip returned to both thighs.

  “…after being ass-sulted on the porch…”

  I thought I might be bleeding from both thighs at this point.

  “…and then threatened by a very intimidating woman with a wooden spoon…”

  I thought I heard my femurs crumbling into dust.

  “…and further being interrupted and having my intelligence compared to that of a deceased carp…”

  I wondered briefly what it was going to be like to go through life as a double amputee.

  “…it is clear to me that Mr. Krimshaw is in the company of two lionesses who would gladly forfeit their own lives to protect him. It is also abundantly clear from the leap of faith that Mr. Krimshaw took into your arms, Miss Devon,
and the tears of joy that are currently welling up in his eyes as he sits safely between the two of you, that he is as much in love with you two as you are with him.”

  I was fairly certain that the two women flanking me could crush a cue ball in their bare hands, and were practicing the trick on my legs as the lady continued to talk.

  “Therefore, Miss Devon, as a representative of the State of Washington, I hereby declare that it is the State’s position that Johnny is currently in a safe, loving environment that is undoubtedly in his best interests, and furthermore, temporary custody shall be granted to you until such a time as a hearing can be scheduled to determine his final residency.”

  I let out a yip of relief and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. Not because I was happy at the words Mrs. Fischer had just said, but because my lionesses had finally relinquished their steel vice compressions on my legs.

  June and Miss Lilly were wearing nearly identical expressions of relief and joy and tears streamed freely down each of their cheeks in swift diamond rivulets.

  June raised a shaking hand to her face and let her fingertips rest gently upon her quivering lips, and tried to speak, but found she could only stammer. Finally she quit trying and just let out a deep heart wrenching sob and turned to me, wrapping me in a full body hug.

  Her entire body was trembling as she held me, and she sobbed unabashedly into my hair. I wondered briefly if it was necessary for every sobbing woman in my life to get snot in my hair, but quickly decided that I really didn’t mind.

  Miss Lilly was much more reserved in her weeping, but still squeaked a couple times as she rubbed my back.

  I shuddered to think what might have happened to the poor dumpling that sat across from us if she would have tried to remove me forcefully from my two new mothers.

  When all the crying was finally done, and everybody had composed themselves a bit, we all sat up and faced Mrs. Fischer to find that she had also been crying and that her massive amounts of eyeshadow had run down her face, making her look something like Alice Cooper with a severe bee sting reaction.