Eileen Slovak

Chapter Forty-five: Sinful Thoughts and Grace

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet

I’m racing to meet Catherine at Mass. Hard as I try, I can’t stop thinking about Scott. From the way he smelled, to the way his skin tasted, to the sheer beauty of his nakedness. I prefer making love in the dark. Mainly because bright light is unforgiving. But in the shower, he was none less than the statue of David personified. I’m recalling the tenderness of his hands roaming over my body. He was like a sculptor smoothing over a finished form, instinctively knowing how to caress my every curve. His body moved with mine in a perfect lustful dance. What is wrong with me? Think pure thoughts! Think pure thoughts! I’m fixated on lust! Scarlet O’Brien you are headed for a one-way ticket on the Hades Express! But, oh baby, what a ride! Late, I slip in after the priest begins his homily.

      Catherine, pointing to her watch mouths: “Where have you been?”

      I realize then, that I’m smiling.

      “You actually look guilty,” Catherine whisper yells. “What’s going on?”

      “I am. Tell you later.”

      “I can practically see what you’re thinking,” she says. “If I can, so can God, and everyone else. Knock it off.”

      I roll my eyes, spending the rest of the Mass deflecting Catherine’s disapproving glares.

      Afterwards, we go to a small bakery called The Corner Store for coffee and scones. I always thought it was a strange name for a bakery. Customers unfamiliar with the place are often confused thinking it’s a convenience store. Ultimately it works out well for the owners. Accidental customers feel so awkward about stumbling in, they usually buy something. Among the locals, it has a good reputation, so business is never lacking.

      “No pancake breakfast with the family today for you?”

      “No, I needed a break. Gary had a poker night last night, so he owes me big time!”

      “At your house?”

      “No, thank goodness, but my turn is coming. He didn’t get home until two in the morning, then woke me up to boot! It was at Lou and Stephanie’s. Do you remember them?”

      “Not really.” I drink in the creamy sweetness of my coffee.

      “They were at Charlotte’s Christening. He’s really tall. She has long black, curly hair?”

      “Oh, yeah. She was the one ripping him a new one for drinking too much. Such a ‘happy couple’ those two.”

      “Oh probably, he is kind of a lush. At least he’s a fun drunk. Anyway, when I was talking to Stephanie the other day. She was telling me, get this, apparently half the stay-at-home moms we know are on some type of prescription medication.”

      “Are you serious? What do you mean? Mommies in the crack house kicking out dough?” 

      “I’m dead serious. They tell their doctors that they’re stressed out and can’t deal with their kids. And their doctors give them a prescription for something.”

      “Is Stephanie taking meds?”

      “Yes! She was all-nonchalant about it. I’ve been totally in the dark about this! I swear I’m the last to know everything. She said the kids were driving her nuts and she felt depressed trying to keep up with everything. Her doctor suggested she try the medication for a while to help her relax a little. To take the edge off.”

      “Wow. Tell me you’re not thinking about doing this?”

      “Me? No! I can barely take Tylenol. But don’t you get it? It made me realize that it’s not just me. Going back to work part-time is not the most horrible idea. At least I won’t become addicted to prescription medication. My point is, it’s a relief to know I’m not alone in feeling overwhelmingly inadequate. That in itself makes me feel better.”

      “That’s the most bizarre rationale I’ve ever heard. But okay. You’re way too hard on yourself; you’re like a domestic goddess.”

      Catherine rolls her eyes.

      “So have you heard anything work wise?”

      “Actually, I have. Do you remember Mitchell? He was one of the lawyers at the firm when I was a Paralegal?”

      “Yes, of course I remember him. He was a hottie.”

      “Well, that aside, he started his own firm, and he’s looking for some help. I told him if I did it at all, it would have to be very part time. I’d be no more than a paralegal or an assistant or something. He said fine and to call him once I figure out what works for me. I’m considering it. What do you think?”

      “Catherine, I think that’s fantastic. It’s just what you need right now. When will you start?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t worked it all out yet. Gary said it’s up to me. He thinks I’m happy.”

      “You are happy. You’re just in a…bad weather pattern. Lord knows, I couldn’t do what you do.”

      “Okay, speaking of doing things, what were you so guilty about? What made you late to Mass, reeking of last night’s Chardonnay and men’s cologne?”

      “Oh, is it that obvious?” I checked my breath in my hand. “I brushed twice!”

      “Just a tad. So? Tell me! I need to live vicariously. No fair playing Scarlet Dodge Ball!”

      “Do I do that?”

      “Yes, all the time. Now spill it.”

      “Let’s just say I have never been with a guy this hot in my entire life. He makes me nervous; he’s that hot. I wasn’t even interested in him, that’s the strange thing. I don’t know. I don’t think I should see him again though.”

      “WHAT! What about the sex?”

      “Here, there and everywhere. We were rolling around the apartment like wild animals. At one point, we ripped the mattress off the bed, missed it entirely and hit the floor. It was crazy! I was shrieking like a maniac. I’m surprised my landlady didn’t call the cops, but she says she takes her Trazodone by 9 p.m. every night like clockwork. My apartment looks like it’s been ransacked.”

      “I believe it was. So, who is he, anyone I know?”

      “Remember that guy, Scott from Corky’s art show?”

      “Oh! No fair! I’m seriously jealous now.”

      Catherine stuffs the rest of a maple nut scone into her mouth, washing it down with coffee.

      “Well, you know. I’m sure it’s just a fling,” I say nibbling on my orange, cranberry scone.

      “So that’s it? After all of that, you don’t plan on seeing him again? Just some wild one-night stand? Did he say he would call you?”

      “He wants to make me dinner tonight, but I have a really busy day tomorrow. I don’t know.”

      “Oh, right! You know you’re so going! Man, I’m totally jealous! I have nothing to compare.”

      “Catherine, it’s incredibly sweet that you waited for Gary. I just haven’t found what you have yet. So, for now, I may as well enjoy myself, right?”

      “You’re going tonight. I know you are.”

      “I guess I could see him one more time, for kicks.”

      I pick at the scone until it’s nothing but a pile of crumbs on the plate.

      A familiar voice makes us look up to see Aunt Grace giving the baker a hard time about an order.

      “Hi Aunt Grace,” we say in unison.

      “Oh, what a surprise, my two favorite nieces! Oh, that’s right, you’re my only nieces! How are you girls?” Grace says giving Catherine a kiss on the cheek. “Tsk, tsk, Catherine, you know those scones aren’t the best thing for your weight problem. I know how it is; I never got my flat stomach back after Mikey was born. I was a stunner too. Could have had any man I wanted, even after your uncle Mike passed. Some of them were still married and chasing after me. Can you imagine? Of course, there was never another who could take his place.”

      It’s amazing how she can hurl a string of insults a mile long with a smile on her face. She never even takes a breath. It was my turn next. Grace’s smile turns to an exaggerated frown, as she looks at me. “Aw Scarlet, still no ring? It only gets harder, you know; most of the good ones are already taken. Men like to marry women in their twenties. They start to think there’s something wrong if you’re still single after thirty, with the plumbing or upstairs.” She taps the side of her temple with her bony pointer finger. “Especially if you haven’t at least been asked. Once you’re in your forties, FORGET IT! You may as well enter the convent like your Great Aunt Elena! You were always too fussy Scarlet. No nice men at that job of yours? In my day, they were all after the secretary.”

      When she finally pauses, I interject.

      “I’m the Sales and Marketing Director Aunt Grace, not the secretary.”

      “Uh-huh.” Grace says disinterested, before quickly changing the subject. “I’m going to see your father this afternoon. I came in for coffee cake and the cinnamon buns he likes. I hope they’re not under cooked like they were the last time.” She says the last part loud enough for the baker to hear. I see him roll his eyes.

      “How is Mike, Aunt Grace? I haven’t seen him much lately,” Catherine asks.

      “Oh, he’s terrific, every mother’s dream! He visits Bob all of the time. You two could visit more you know! Your father is very lonely. Did you know he’s been spending time with his tarty neighbor, some divorcee?  Humph!” As if the thought was too much to bear, she turns the subject back to her son. “Mike’s business is booming. He has the new boat. He’s hired a captain now so he doesn’t have to go out on the long trips anymore. The best part,” she beams, “he has a gorgeous new girlfriend, Shannon. I’ll tell you what, she’s like a famous model! Such a sweetheart!”

      The bakery manager nods to Grace, signaling that her order is ready. “It was wonderful to see you both! Catherine, give my love to that handsome husband of yours and my darling grandniece and nephews! Scarlet, I’ll pray for you dear.” She says making the sign of the cross, then she’s gone.

      I let out a loud sigh as if I’d been holding my breath for an eternity.

      “I thought she’d never leave. That was like a nuclear attack.”

      “Isn’t it always?” Catherine asks. “How does she pack in so much guilt with so many offensive remarks in such a short amount of time? It’s uncanny.”

      “Who knows, it’s a gift. The gift that remains unforgiving and that you can never return. What was all that about Dad and his neighbor? First I’m hearing of it?” I ask.

      “I have no idea. I’m sure she’s imagining it. She probably saw them talking once so she’s making a federal case out of it.”

      “How did Mike turn out so well?”

      “He’s not so perfect,” Catherine says, raising an eyebrow.

      “He is according to Grace. I get she’s proud that Mike owns his own fishing boat, but he’s no Bill Gates. And the girlfriend…I hear she’s a stripper,” I say.

      “She’s not a stripper, but she was featured in Hustler magazine several years ago.”

      “Classy. So, she’s a famous nude model.”

      “So, it would seem. Unreal. Mom could always put Aunt Grace in her place, remember?”

      “Yes!” I say, “remember that Thanksgiving when Mom was at her wits end with Aunt Grace’s mouth? She lost it calling her a babbling old bore. They didn’t even stay for pie! Grace didn’t speak to Mom for months after that. It was the most relaxing time of our lives.”

      “Until Mom got sick.”