I shepherded her through the revolving door. “What about her?”
“You didn’t know? She’s quitting. It’s not that I mind that. Well, of course I mind it—we’ve worked together for eight years. I feel bereft, but I wouldn’t try to stop her moving on, trying new opportunities. But it’s why she’s quitting. It drives me mad that she lets that family of hers run her life—and now—and Max says I have no empathy! I ask you!”
During the drive home she spoke determinedly about the concert, and what pungent remarks Theresz would have made over the collection of nonmusical parvenus who had flocked to her memorial concert. It was only when I dropped her at her door that she let me get the conversation back to Carol.
“What is she doing? You don’t know? She’s going to stay home and nurse some damned cousin of that morbid mother of hers. He’s got AIDS and Carol feels it her duty to look after him.”
She slammed the door with a snap and swirled through her front door. I felt the chill fingers of depression creep into my shoulders. Poor Carol. Poor Lotty. And poor me: I didn’t want to be caught between them. I waited until the lights came on in Lotty’s living room and put the Trans Am back into gear.
Chapter 4 - Rye on Eggs
I slept badly that night. The thought of Lotty, shivering in the dark over her dead family, brought back the nightmares of my mother’s final illness. I would approach Gabriella’s bed through the maze of tubes and oxygen that shrouded her only to see Lotty’s face propped against the pillows. She stared at me blankly, then turned away. I felt wrapped in gauze, unable to move or speak. When the doorbell rang, forcing me back to consciousness, it was a relief to wake up.
I had been crying in my sleep. The tears glued my lids together and I moved unsteadily to the door as the buzzer shrilled again. It was the upper bell, the one right on my door, not in the outer lobby. I couldn’t see clearly enough to make out the person on the other side of the peephole.
“Who is it?” I called hoarsely through the edge of the door.
I put my ear against the jamb. At first all I could make out was senseless gabbling, but finally I realized it was Mr. Contreras.
I undid the bolts and opened the door a crack. “Just a minute,” I croaked. “I need to put on some clothes.”
“Sorry to wake you, doll, I mean it’s nine-thirty and all and usually you’re up and about by now, but you must’ve got in late and of course I turned in early, being done in by getting Her Highness through—”
I slammed the door on him and stomped off to the bathroom. I took my time in the shower. If something had gone seriously wrong with Peppy he would have come right out with it. This was doubtless by way of a minor emergency: one of the pups wasn’t nursing or she’d rejected the old man’s offering of ham and eggs.
Before going down I made myself a cup of strong coffee and swallowed it in great scalding gulps. It didn’t make me feel rested and refreshed, but at least I could navigate the stairs.
Mr. Contreras bounded out as I rang his bell. “Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d gone back to bed and I didn’t want to bother you none. I thought being as how you was out with the doc last night it wouldn’t be such a late evening, but you must’ve run into someone else you knew.”
His incessant burrowing into my love life sometimes brought me to the screaming point. Lack of sleep moved me to irritability faster than usual.
“Just once, as a noble experiment, could you pretend my private life is private? Tell me how Peppy is and why you had to come wake me up.”
He threw up placatory hands. “No need to get your tail in a knot, doll. I know you got a private life. That’s why I waited till nine-thirty. But I wanted to make sure I had a chance to talk to you before you took off for the day, that’s all. Don’t be so shirty.”
“Okay, I’m not shirty.” I tried to keep my voice calm. “Tell me how Her Serene Doggedness is doing. And how are the little ones?”
“Everyone’s a-okay. The princess is a champ, you don’t need me to tell you that. You wanna see her? Your hands are clean, ain’t they?”
“I just scrubbed myself squeaky clean inside and out and these are fresh jeans,” I said solemnly.
Mr. Contreras led me into his living room. Peppy was still stretched behind the sofa, but the old man had cleaned up her nest, giving her a fresh stack of soft sheets to lie on. The eight fur balls were squirming at her nipples, squeaking a little if one got pushed aside by another’s greed. Peppy looked at me and thumped her tail to show we were still friends, but her total attention was on her babies, too blind and helpless to survive without her.