Regina, Page 3

  Chapter Three

  I have no idea what Austin looked like because the airport was located outside the city. Lee is so small, the closest airport is Austin, which was a whopping sixty miles away, so we had to drive the last hour of the trip. I was beyond bored! Everything was closed at the airport. We got our luggage and rental car quickly due to the lateness of the day.

  We stopped for dinner at a rundown little diner in a town called Bastrop. The décor was a depressing yellow and green. It covered the walls and the bar stools. The stools sat around a dark faux wood bar. I looked for cowboys wearing spurs and Stetson hats. Hmmm. I didn’t see any. Where were the southern bells with the hoop skirts? Some guys sitting on the stools at the bar turned to look at us. I wondered if they had guns. We chose a booth that looked the cleanest and sat down. I was not ready to talk so I kept the ear buds in. I was grateful to mom and daddy for keeping the peace and not yelling at me for not being a part of their conversation. They knew I would talk when I was ready.

  “What ya’ll want to drink?” The waitress asked. It sounded like she said it ‘What cha’ll want to drank?’

  I giggled and felt daddy’s elbow poke my ribs.

  We gave her our drink orders. When she left, daddy turned to me. “So, I’ve deduced you’re listening to us, but have yet come to speaking terms. Am I correct?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. He smiled his handsome smile at me. My father’s sweet blue eyes were full of life and humor. Soon, mom began laughing, too. I’m sure we were quite a sight, a couple of New York city slickers in southern territory, and laughing madly at each other. It felt good. It felt normal.

  Then I started crying, bawling right there in a hillbilly diner. I wanted to feel normal with mom and daddy again. My world was turned upside down with one email. Almost overnight, I was separated from everyone and everything I love. Feelings of panic, hopelessness, and denial crowded my everyday thoughts. Yet, here I was, laughing with my parents as if things never changed.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He said gently. He stroked my arm and handed me a napkin. I wiped my eyes quickly.

  “No daddy, it wasn’t you. This feels like being home with you guys.” I said.

  I felt mom and daddy trade guilty looks. I didn’t intend to make them feel bad so I took a deep breath, swallowed the rest of my teenage anger, and looked at the menu. Mom analyzed my movements and decided I was okay. She gave her menu a glance, as well. I gave mom a little smile when I asked if she was hungry.

  “Well, I do feel like I should eat something. I’m not sure what, though.” Mom said. She eyed the menu in confusion.

  I understood her confusion. What the heck was a chicken fried chicken? And what similarities, if any, did it have to the chicken fried steak? Was everything in this place fried? For goodness sakes they even fry the bacon. I was surprised there was not anything I could eat on this menu that would not ruin my weight. I continued looking through the menu and found the burger to be the safest to order. I think my parents were having the same problem. We looked at each other and said, “Burgers.” in unison.

  The burgers were good. Mom and I split a second one and daddy had three burgers total. I don’t know what it was, but our moods were much higher after dinner. Daddy had us laughing at the menu. We loved it when he went through the items and gave a country twang to them. Mom looked happier. Her cheeks were rosier and her spirit seemed lifted. Daddy naturally has a positive effect on us, but something about tonight enhanced his charisma and charm. Maybe it’s the light, but daddy seems so happy, he’s .…glowing.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I said to the waitress. I didn’t realize she asked me a question.

  “Can I get cha some dessert, sweetie?” She asked.

  “Oh, no! I think I’m fine.” I said with a genuine laugh and pat my stomach.

  “Maybe we should get some dessert to take with us? I’m not sure if dad has food at the house.” Mom commented to daddy.

  Wait, what? Dad? Did she just call her father, dad? What happened to calling him George, or not mentioning him at all?

  “You’re not sure if George has food?” Daddy asked mom with concern. My head tried to wrap around mom calling her father, dad. Deep down, I knew this was the first time I felt something was amiss. Something felt wrong about my mom’s endearing comment. Well, that may not be true. I think the first time I felt something was wrong was after the email arrived to tell my mom her mother was dead.

  The drive to Lee was long and dark. It was dark in the car and the country was quite boring. Reading was out of the question, the light would bother daddy while he tried to drive. I tried to become interested in the little towns we passed, but they were pretty small and we drove through them quickly. Besides, there was nothing to see. I didn’t have service on my phone, so I let the music take over in my ears and I fell asleep.

  I didn’t have a dream and if I did, I don’t remember it. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the car. We made it to Grandpa’s house. The house sat in a wide clearing, surrounded by trees. They were thick and tangled together like crazed monsters longing to keep me here forever. I wanted to crawl into a ball and refuse to come out of the car. I pulled out my phone to text Jane and Renee, but I shut it in anger when I saw I didn’t have service. This was impossible! I was going to be miserable, no matter what. No friends, no shopping, no good food, no New York, no cell phone service, and no Jeff. Maybe if I closed my eyes and wished hard enough, I would be back home in my room.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Daddy tapped on the window glass. He wanted me to get out of the car. I was the only one left inside and I didn’t want to step out. It would make my situation real if I did, like I decided to submit to the fate they led me to. I could almost picture myself in the backseat of a cab, off with Jane to some amazing place for dinner. Our rules were not firm at Will Lawson Academy, my high school, and it was amazing.

  I fell from my daydreams and crashed into reality as I looked out the window at daddy’s anxious face. I forced myself to open the car door.

  Once I got out, I widened my eyes to the house in front of me. It was a beautiful cottage in the middle of the woods. The outside walls were built with big gray stones. It was questionably two to three stories high with ivy crawling up the outside walls. Only one window faced the rock driveway. It was tiny and possibly had white lace curtains. The car and I faced a similar two feet stone wall surrounding the outside patio. There was a door that led inside, but the patio was large and full of outside plants. As I walked closer, I thought I heard water to my right, but it was too dark to see anything.

  I entered the patio through the charming little wooden gate. I noticed the concrete floor was cracked and old. However, the patio furniture was newer and looked comfortable. There were yellow and white striped cushions tied to white iron chairs. Similar cushions were on the little ottomans in front of the chairs. A cute little white iron table was between the chairs. A book was lying on table with a bookmark keeping place the last page read. I was in awe. A little combination of the stars, the cool breeze, and that furniture, this could be a nice spot for me. I could definitely see myself out here.

  “Not bad out here, eh?” Daddy said from behind me.

  “Yes.” I turned to him. “Not bad at all.”

  “Can’t get this in the city.” He muttered to himself.

  I giggled at him. Daddy certainly knew my thoughts like they were written on my face. I walked through the patio door and found myself in a rectangle sized outdoor sunroom. The walls were made of empty wood frames with weatherproof plastic stapled into the frame. A little washer and dryer were to my right along with uneven concrete steps leading to an old white wood door. The rest of the room was loaded with things such as a freezer and wood/mechanical stuff. The door leading into the house stood in the middle of the wall to my right. It was distinctly red, though time had faded the color terribly. Between the two doors was a little rectangle size
d window, looking into the house. The front door had the same uneven concrete steps just below the door. At the end of the room was another door. I wondered where it went.

  “You can explore in the morning.” Daddy said. He must have caught me staring. “Let’s get our things settled and assess the situation. Maybe we can try to get some sleep soon. I don’t know about you G, but I’m on New York time!” He put his arm around me and led me through the front door.

  Mom was already inside, putting her things down and making herself comfortable. I saw her take a survey of the house. I’m sure it felt different being in the house you grew up in. I wondered if things have changed since she’s been here. The front door opened right into the kitchen and dining room. Hmm, I’ve never seen a house that opened into the kitchen before. The kitchen was to my right and complete with an old iron stove, refrigerator, dishwasher and some decent countertop space. I hated the brown linoleum that plagued the floors. Though the décor was old, it made me feel as if we were in a cabin, a very outdated cabin. The dining room was to my left and had red walls with red carpet. There was a window on the far left wall in the dining area. I giggled at the feel of the room. The layout was backwards! I felt as if I was on vacation, like that time we went to Colorado. Yes, that was the way I should think of my life right now. Maybe I could live here for a little while.

  I passed the dining room table on my way to the next room, which ended up being the biggest room of the house, the living room. It was longer and wider than the kitchen and dining room, and had a tall ceiling. I ran my gaze along the high walls and felt pretty impressed. The room was covered in dark wood paneling except for the massive stone fireplace on the right side of the room.

  Now this room had windows! Massive windows ran from floor to ceiling on two sides of the room. The sunlight made the room bright, and fairy tale charming. I saw a double set of doors and stairs at the far left side of the room. The stairs went up, made a turn to the right, and went over a double set of doors. A deer’s head was mounted right above the double doors.

  “That’s your grandfather’s room.” Daddy whispered to me and pointed to the double doors. “The door you saw outside, on the sun porch, leads out from his room.”

  I shook my hand to indicate I understood. Daddy left me alone to get our bags from the car. The furniture was worn and old. A brown couch with large flowers sat a couple of feet in front of grandpa’s room with a large wood coffee table. A cute tan loveseat was positioned parallel to the couch with a small matching nightstand. Two comfortable living chairs were right beside the fireplace. I looked at the cute little paintings of fruit hung from the walls. Then I saw a microscopic TV beside the fireplace.

  Oh my! Might as well push that poor TV into that fireplace and put it out of its misery! I thought with a little laugh.

  I spun with surprise to hear the large doors swing inward. My grandfather emerged from the double doors and into the living room. The couch was in front of him, but it could not hide his massive height. His eyes scanned the room and fell directly upon me as his smile widened. An impressive seven feet tall, my grandfather towered over everyone in the room. His bald head glowed from the lights over the artwork. He wore a blue and white plaid button down shirt, and tan pants with suspenders. His warm smile filled the room with sunshine and his blue eyes were watering with emotion. He held out his arms to me and I rushed to him, my blonde hair bounced behind me as I ran. I don’t know why I did this except that I felt overwhelmed with emotion when he stretched his arms out.

  “My granddaughter.” He whispered and hugged me tight.

  “Dad, this is Regina. Regina this is my dad, George Underwood.” My mother’s voice called with laughter behind us. She was busy helping daddy with our luggage.

  He smelled of wood, like a carpenter and Zest soap. Those long arms wrapped around me and picked me up. I laughed at his exuberance. “Hello, Regina. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you too, grandpa.”

  His face was old but handsome. Missing was his hair and left pinky finger. I later learned grandpa lost his finger in a tractor accident when he was in his thirties. I loved his sweet face and warm hands. His long arms and legs had to conform to my smaller size, making him look like a giant. This did not seem like the man my mother described.

  “And I’m sure you remember Jack.” Mom said louder. She was obviously a little upset about daddy being excluded from a warm welcome.

  Remember Jack? How could Grandpa remember dad if they never met before? Daddy told me he never met mom’s parents or been to her hometown. My grandfather put me down and reached out to shake my father’s hand. They exchanged kind words of condolences while my mother pulled me aside.

  “Go up the stairs and go straight till you see a door. It’s small and I apologize for that but I hope you like it.” She said with a twinkle in her eye.

  My grandfather looked upset when he saw I was leaving but mom gently explained that we had a long trip and I wanted to get adjusted in my room first. The stairs were dark and creaked with every step I took, but they were amazingly sturdy. A steady stream of light came from above and I saw the second floor as I made the turn on the stairs. There was a door at the end of the stairway. The rest of the second floor was open, no door, separation walls or privacy. A king size bed with blue bedding was in the middle of the room with two bureaus and a nightstand on each side. I noticed there were only two windows in this large room. I guessed this was my parents’ room. I moved on to my room.

  Through the white wood door, my room was petite with a white wrought iron, double sized bed with an intricate Victorian inspired design. The bed filled the room and gave me just enough space for the nightstand, desk, and a small armoire. There was not enough room to walk, only maneuver. A cozy looking mattress and yellow bedspread with white sheets called to me. I could not resist jumping into the bed and letting the softness take me away. It was like floating on a cloud. After my little moment, I sat up on my elbows and surveyed the room. My dumb phone still did not have service so I could not call Jeff. The tiny window I saw earlier was the one I was looking at now. I got up and opened the window shade. Sure enough, I saw the patio below.

  For a second time, I surveyed the size of the room. Maybe this could work. My laptop would fit perfectly on the desk, not that there was much room in the first place. The desk would fit perfectly in front of the window, so I moved it. I opened the window to let the fresh air in. Thank goodness the window had a screen, mom warned me about the bugs and mosquitoes. I positioned my laptop in the right spot and put the chair in. The desk was cute and the change made the room nice. The desk and chair were painted white and made from iron like the bed. There was dust on the floor and probably in the sheets. Cobwebs hung in the corners of the room and from the armoire. I was too afraid to open the armoire. Perhaps I should come back to this one later.

  But I had to hang up my clothes!

  I turned around, gave myself a good ole’ New York City girl pep talk, and opened the double doors to the armoire before I changed my brave mind. It was empty but for a few dead insects and cobwebs. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I found the drawers underneath in the same condition. I breathed out a sigh of relief and realized I could not sleep in this room unless it was clean, but the room had potential to be such a cozy place for me. Once I painted and majorly cleaned, it could be something nice.

  A knock was at my door and I heard daddy’s voice call out. He must have the rest of my things. I took two steps to open the door.

  “Hey, daddy!” I squealed when I opened the door.

  “Hey sweetie! Like your room?” He asked with surprise.

  My poor father. He tried to hide his surprise but failed miserably. I started to feel bad. I guess I gave my parents too hard of a time about coming here. It certainly was not as bad as I imagined. My dorm room was enormous compared to this shoe box, but it would work for a little while.

  “Yes, it’s pretty
cool. A little small, but has great potential.” I said.

  “Good! Need some help? I brought up the rest of your bags and your purse. You left it in the back seat.”

  “Thanks, daddy. You can leave them right beside the door.” I said.

  “You will be happy to know you have the only room with a bathroom. Your mother and I have to share your grandfather’s.”

  “I have a bathroom?” I asked.

  He shook his head yes and pointed to the corner of the armoire. The door was so little and hidden, I would not of seen it unless I moved the armoire or someone pointed it out. This made me more excited. My own private bathroom!

  “Uh, daddy? I need to touch this room up so I can be comfortable in here. Do you know where I could find a vacuum, some cleaner, and rags?”

  “No, but don’t worry about that now, sweetie. Are you hungry? Would you like to help me hunt for something to eat? We have the pie from the diner.”

  How could I tell him politely that all I wanted was to be by myself with my music and laptop? I had to ease myself into this situation by myself. I didn’t want to be with anyone else, especially my parents. All I wanted was for them to forget about me while they took care of their business. I wanted this summer to fly by while I cleaned and explored my new world. I had a plan in mind and here he was spoiling it.

  “No thanks, I’m not hungry. I’ll go downstairs with you. I need to find some stuff to fix my room. I can’t stay in here unless it’s clean.” I said as I shut the door behind me.

  Daddy rolled his eyes as he tilted his head up in exasperation. He turned around and walked down the stairs with heavy steps. He muttered, “I don’t see what the big deal is about a few dust bunnies.”

  In the kitchen, mom went through the fridge and made a grocery list. The old wooden cabinets creaked when she opened them in the quest for clean drinking glasses. She silently nodded her head as if confirming her suspicions. She rubbed her fingers on the glass and shook her head at the dust. I covered my face to hide my laughter. If there was one thing I definitely inherited from my mom, it was her war against dust and all things disgusting. Daddy and I exchanged a look between us. Of course mom was in the kitchen getting it ‘straight’. I knew I should have gone to her when I needed cleaning materials.

  My parents are in love and respect each other, but they’re very different. I never met two people so opposite, but so in love. Daddy grew up rich in a Jewish family and mom grew up poor in a Methodist family. Daddy traveled the world with his family and mom never left the state until she was in college. My father is the messiest person alive and mom is obsessed with keeping things clean. He is the math/finance wizard and mom can’t solve a math fraction to save her life. I think the only thing they had in common was their love for each other.

  As we approached mom, daddy put out his hands as if to say ‘you first’. I laughed and walked confidently ahead of him. He knew he couldn’t win with two ladies in his house. Cleaning was top priority for us because we could not be comfortable unless the house was clean.

  “Mom? Where is the vacuum and cleaning stuff?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. Dad doesn’t remember where mom kept that. It’s already so late….” She said as she tapped her right index finger to her chin. This gesture told me mom seriously debated whether to stay up all night to clean or do it tomorrow. “Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I saw bacon and pancake mix in the fridge. Let’s have a quick snack and go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll survey the “damage” and go to the local store so we can arm ourselves to kill the dust. Sound good?”

  It didn’t sound good at all, but the look on my father’s face told me to be quiet and go with whatever mom said. Daddy nodded his head to show he agreed with mom.

  “Sounds good mom, but why is the pancake mix in fridge?” I asked with joking disgust.