Two
Chelsea
“The bathroom is on the right!” I shout at the person knocking on my door. I look at my phone and see that it’s seven o’clock and that I have a missed call and two texts, all from Darla. Damn it’s too early to people. Can’t the guys take their one-nighters somewhere else, it’s Thanksgiving for Christ’s sake? I can’t tell you how many times someone has knocked on my door in the middle of the night or just walked in, that happened only once, thinking my room was the bathroom. I need to find a new place to live, the rooms in the back just aren’t cutting it anymore.
The person knocks again, but before I go crazy and shoot someone, the soothing voice of Ms. Darla carries through the door. “Hey hun, it’s Darla.” Charlie didn’t warn me that Ms. Darla would show up with the sun this morning. He never said anything to me about our plans, besides what he announced to Rock. I went to sleep expecting to sleep my Thanksgiving away and skip out on Rock. I roll out of bed and rush across the cold wood floor to unlock my door. As soon as the door is open I leap back into bed, cocooning myself in my warm covers.
Darla pulls off her boots and lies on top of my covers wrapping her body around mine. “He didn’t tell you I was coming, did he?” She asks laughing.
I shake my head no and enjoy my Darla cuddles. Darla is Charlie’s old lady. They’ve been married for almost twenty years and have no children. In her early fifties, Darla is a babe. Tall and curvy with a heart bigger than I’ve ever seen, she represents everything I hope to be when I “grow up.” She took me under her wing when I showed up with nothing and has been the mother figure I’ve always wanted.
“Do I smell coffee? Coffee and, is that cinnamon?” I sit up quickly knocking her to the side. “Did you bring me your famous homemade cinnamon rolls?”
“I did. You can’t have any until you get your stinky ass in the shower and get ready. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Make it quick missy.” She says bribing me out of bed. The temptress bakes like a god. Can’t say she doesn’t know how to get me moving. I rush through my shower but take my time applying my makeup and doing my hair. I pull on a pair of dark skinny jeans and a red flannel, and I’m ready to go.
Ever since I left Eric, getting ready for my day has become important in way it never was before. He didn’t like it when I would do my hair and makeup. He used to tell me I had no right to make him jealous, that I was flaunting myself for every man. Looking good was never about flaunting myself for others, I wanted to make him proud. Now I take care of myself and put myself together for me. When I look good, I feel good.
Darla is waiting for me in her Jeep Wrangler when I walk out to the parking lot. Damn it's cold out. I wrap my scarf tighter and pull my hood up over my head. I open the passenger door and crawl in, grabbing the offered coffee and chugging it. I don’t care it’s almost hot enough to burn me. It’s freezing outside, and I need that jolt of caffeine to bring me back to the land of the living. Putting my coffee into the cup holder, I stare at Darla, waiting.
“They’re at my house,” she says.
“You’re joking right?” I ask, holding back the wrath that my bitchier side wants to reign down on her. She shakes her head no, and if I didn’t know her better, I’d assume she wasn’t getting off on this. But I do know her, and she loves torturing me.
“I had to make sure I could get you to the house. You’re a feisty one, and I needed leverage.”
“You’re such a bitch!” I laugh off.
Ten minutes later we pull up to their three-bedroom, two bath ranch style home in the middle of suburbia USA. I find it funny that a badass chick like Darla and her biker husband like living here. We talked about it the first time she brought me here. She told me that ‘we’re all people. It doesn’t matter who we are or what we look like. There’s a sense of community here that I need to keep me solid. Charlie understands and doesn’t mind.’ That was the first time I realized Darla had been through something dark too.
When we walk into the house, Charlie is in his recliner watching the pre-thanksgiving parade news. I kiss him on the cheek and follow Darla into the kitchen. I immediately get a plate and grab the huge ooey-gooey cinnamon roll from the platter. I sit down at their bar and start devouring. Darla sets down a glass of cold milk to wash it down. I’m finished in less than two minutes. I wipe my mouth with the napkin she put next to my plate mid-roll chow down.
“Oh my god. Those are delicious every time.” I moan while standing up to put my plate in the sink.
“I made them for you when Charlie told me you were coming over today,” She says like it’s no big deal.
I hug her tight “I wish I had a mom like you when I was growing up,” I whisper.
She hugs me back and kisses the top of my head. “What I would have given to have raised you, Chelsea. You turned out to be a good woman, and you did that all on your own.”
I shrug my shoulder and pull away, uncomfortable with any praise. “Okay. Put me to work. I’m ready to become a pie master.”
We spend the next three hours baking twelve pies including pumpkin, pecan, and blueberry.