Beauty and the Mustache

“She was training the weekend nurse,” Elizabeth said, shimmying past my brothers on her way to the kitchen. “We’ve invited her to stay for dinner.”

Billy grumbled something then turned, and walked down the hall toward the living room, but Roscoe stood a little straighter, his eyes moving to the den.

“Go on in, handsome,” Sandra said, giving him a little grin.

He nodded once then walked past us to the door, tapping lightly before entering.

I watched Billy walk away, feeling a wistful sense of regret. He made me feel a bit like a usurper, like I was down here playing a role. Or maybe his frosty attitude toward me magnified my own feelings on the subject.

I caught Sandra eyeing me up and down, so I returned her assessing stare.

“What?” I said.

“What?” she retorted.

I narrowed my eyes further as we walked into the kitchen. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Elizabeth was already bustling about the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and vegetables.

“Oh, nothing,” Sandra said breezily, and I noticed she was rinsing the glasses with more vigor than necessary. “By the way, did you see that you have a summer garden in the backyard?” she continued. “I asked your mother about it this morning during our one-on-one Sandra-and-Bethany coffee time. She planted the seeds a few weeks ago, but forgot about it. You have tomato plants, squash, lettuce, and green beans coming up.”

“Okay….”

“Where’s the good Dr. Runous? He’s been scarce these last few days.” Sandra’s topic change gave me whiplash, and I blinked in confusion, trying to keep up.

“I…don’t know.”

“You probably scared him away.” Elizabeth’s eyes flickered to Sandra’s and her voice was low. It sounded like a warning.

I’d definitely noticed Drew’s absence. I’d seen him twice over the last three days and only in passing when he, Jethro, Billy, and Roscoe returned from some sort of exercise. They’d all walked in, hot and sweaty, both times. Drew had stopped to talk with Momma for a bit, but then he’d disappeared, and I’d been left with the image of a hot and sweaty Drew imprinted on my brain.

I didn’t like that I’d noticed how very, very nice Drew looked after a period of heavy exertion. Therefore, I redoubled my efforts to push him from my mind. I wasn’t in Tennessee to ogle Drew-flavored eye-candy. I was here to take care of my mother. Besides, more and more—as he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid me—I got the impression that he had mixed feelings toward me as well.

Sandra nodded to confirm Elizabeth’s warning. “You also have eight roosters,” she said, back on the topic of random farm observations.

I blinked, startled by the number, and—again—the new subject. “Eight? What do we need eight roosters for?”

“I don’t know. Bethany said she was planning on butchering all of them but one, but never got around to it. You really only need one rooster to keep the hens in line, and the hens are strictly for laying eggs. Can you imagine how frustrating it must be for all those roosters, hanging around, crowing up a storm, picking fights with each other? I’m surprised one of them hasn’t flown the coop. That’s why there’s that constant ruckus outside. You need to eat some of those cocks before you end up with a rooster situation.”

I blinked at her with a deadpan expression, refusing to take the bait.

With lightning speed, Sandra once again changed the subject. “Oh, and I like your hospice nurse, Marissa. She’s totally sassy. Your brothers are already fighting for her affections. I wish I could stick around and see who ends up on top….” Sandra paused and lifted her eyebrow for emphasis, “… of Marissa.”

“Could you be any more gauche?” Elizabeth shook her head.

Sandra snorted, wiped her hands, and crossed to Elizabeth. “Don’t pretend like you’re shocked. You’re a pervy perv too. And you’re wondering the same thing. My money is on Billy.”

“Billy? He barely acknowledges her.” Sandra paused. “No, I’m thinking Roscoe. He’s very charming, and he looks like he knows how to wield his axe.”

“Oh, my God, they’re my brothers! Ugh.” A bubble of laughter escaped me and I shook my head, trying to keep my expression stern. I recognized what they were doing. They were trying to distract me from my grief and worry by being silly and gross. It was working.

“Everyone in this house needs some sexual healing. Marissa said she had sisters. I wonder how many she has. If you still don’t want to get on Drew, maybe she’s got a brother you could ride.” Sandra winked at me.

“Just stop, please stop. I already walked in on the twins using their healing hands. No matter how much bleach I drink, I’ll never be able to completely cleanse my mind or forget the horror of that sight.”

“Wait, did you say twins?” Sandra paused, glancing over my shoulder as her mind worked. She refocused her gaze on me. “Were they using healing hands on each other? Together?”

“Sandra! That’s disgusting!” Elizabeth smacked her on the shoulder.

“What? Men get to fantasize about ménage à trois with twin sisters, but I’m a sicko because my spank naughty list includes twin leprechauns?”

I gagged instinctively, covering my mouth with my hand, but I also laughed. Through my fingers I mumbled, “It’s like there’s a party going on in my mouth, and everyone is throwing up.”

“That’s right, Ashley. My mind just went there.” Sandra said this loudly, her head doing a weird little jazzy pivot. “My mind went to the double the ginger, double the fun.”

“Inappropriate Shrink Sandra is inappropriate!” Elizabeth wagged her finger at Sandra, but she was giggling.

“Seriously, stop.” I shook my head, holding my stomach—laughing and grossed out and close to tears of hilarity. “Please!”

Sandra crossed to stand behind Elizabeth and did a little hip pump dance; she wagged her eyebrows at me. “You know I like my sushi like I like my men….” She paused for dramatic effect then added, “…With two slices of ginger.”

“You are such a freak.” I lost it in a fit of giggles.

Elizabeth was laughing so hard she had to hold the kitchen counter for balance. Between loud bursts of chortling, she managed to say, “I like…my men…like I like…my meat….” She struggled for breath as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

Sandra, now laughing so hard that she was completely silent, gasped out, “How’s that?”

“Hot with a red…with a red…with a….”

“Don’t say it!” Sandra waved her hands in the air and burst out laughing even harder this time.

Elizabeth couldn’t finish for several seconds because she literally could not speak, her eyes shut tight as she laughed with abandon.

Then she blurted, “Hot with a juicy red center!”

“AGH!” I shook my head and covered my ears.

As luck would have it, Duane and Beau chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.

“AGH!” I yelled again, horrified but unable to control the laughter that convulsed my body.

My twin brothers looked at each other then at the three of us like we were aliens.

I don’t think I could have stopped laughing if my life depended on it, especially when Duane asked, his features completely befuddled, “So, uh…what’s for dinner?”

Then, because Sandra was Sandra, she shouted, “Steak and sushi!”

Sandra let out a loud guffaw and smacked her thigh.

Elizabeth held her stomach and shook her head, gasping for air.

My jaw hurt and my sides ached, and I had to bury my head in my arms, because every time I looked at either of them I ended up laughing all over again.

Despite the ridiculousness of the moment, I wondered in some dark place in the back of my mind how I would survive when my friends left me tomorrow. Who would I lean on? How would I cope with watching my mother slip away daily until nothing was left of her?

There was nothing funny about what was coming next, but without the laughter, I was afraid I would go insane.

CHAPTER 7

“May you live every day of your life.”

? Jonathan Swift

Momma was the hospice patient who cried wisdom-wolf.

“Ashley, where are you, honey? I’ve got something really important to tell you.”

I was sitting in the recliner by her bed, knee deep in my third reading of Catch 22. I’d just given her a bath a half hour ago and helped her dress. She was weak and sleepy from the effort. The strain in her tone surprised me because I thought she was asleep.

I immediately set the book aside and reached for her hand. “I’m right here. What is it, Momma?”

“Come closer.” She squeezed my fingers, so I stood from the chair and leaned over the bed so she could see me better.

“Ashley, you need to know, of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important.” Momma said this with fevered earnestness. I gave her a gentle smile and she continued, her eyes losing focus. “And deodorant…always wear deodorant…and clean underwear.”