Frederick began a slow campaign of stalking.The stalking turned menacing and one evening, while she was walking past the lake on the family property, Frederick surprised Tiffany.He had with him a backpack filled with ropes and a rag filled with chloroform.One roundhouse kick left Frederick in the dirt passed out from his own actions.He awoke in a jail cell.
“Life is unfair at times,” Tiffany said aloud, bringing herself into the present.“I tried love twice, and both times it let me down so hard I barely recovered.I'm still struggling to stay in the now.”
“You're here and thriving,” Helen said.
“I'm here and surviving,” Tiffany replied.“Frederick, when he got out of jail, decided to end my life.However, I wasn't driving my vehicle that night; my parents were in my car.The accident took my father's life and nearly ended Bella's.”
“So, she is your mother,” Helen said.
“She occupies my mother's body; my mother is somewhere locked in that brain, but Bella lives in this house,” Tiffany said.“The pictures confused her and caused frequent meltdowns.They were all removed.Our home is familiar to her, but we are locked in here.I can't take her out; people see the woman, thinking Bella Morrow is in there, but she's not.”
“I'm sorry you've had to shoulder this alone,” Helen said.
“I have my work,” Tiffany added.“I teach online courses, have created a few anthropology apps, and for daily amusement, I fuck with people online.It's not much, but a good cyber hack can dampen the panties.”
Helen shook her head no.“Sis, I may have to babysit Bella so you can go out and get you some action.”
“Honey, it may be too soon to be that personal, but I'm not trying to dust the cobwebs off for anybody,” she mumbled.“Eat up.We'll get you settled and make a course of action.”
Helen cut through the chicken, which was under seasoned.She wondered how a woman like Bella could make a meal so bland when a woman like Ruth Neary made food that made you want to slap your mama.She smiled, thinking a horrible thought, looking up to see Tiffany staring at her.
“Say it aloud so I can be faintly amused as well,” Tiffany suggested.
“I don't know if you're ready for my kind of sense of humor.”
“At this point, any humor will work for me.”
Helen sighed and told her, “My mother is law is an amazing cook.I was wondering...this food is so white.I was thinking if Bella puts raisins in her potato salad, I am getting the fuck out of here.”
Tiffany Morrow blinked twice.“You're married?Is your mother-in-law white, by the inference of that statement?”
“She is, but she is Kentucky white versus Minnesota white if that makes sense, because honey, this chicken is as bland as billowing white curtains in a peach room with ecru furniture,” Helen said.
“Oddly, that makes sense,” Tiffany said.“This is home for you for three months.We will have to figure out something to keep Bella on her schedule and not interrupt her routines.”
“Okay, and I will eat, but I'mma need to stock up on hot sauce, cause this is not it,” Helen said, laughing.
Tiffany Morrow cracked a smile.“Maybe this won't be so bad after all.”
“I was thinking the same thing, but I am getting on DoorDash to order some seasonings.”
“Fair enough,” Tiffany said, watching the odd little woman who was very observant.In one overarching statement, she'd lowered Tiffany’s defenses and gotten her to speak on matters that had made her sour on life, regardless of the grapes given to make wine.Her anger wasn't abated, nor was it fed, living in a home with a shell of a woman who used to be her mother, created by a man who also didn't know how to take no for an answer.
Three months was a long time to spend with someone locked into a space.However, ten years was even longer to sit in a home, sharing a space with a person whom she wasn’t sure knew who she was.At times, her mother recognized her, and other times Tiffany wasn't certain if she did.She did, however, appreciate Helen introducing herself as a friend, stating why she was here, and saying that she would clean up after herself.
“I might be able to deal with this,” Tiffany said softly.
****
THE BEDROOM ASSIGNEDfor Helen's stay was a far cry above where she’d stayed with Lemon, which felt like a closet with a twin bed.At Apple's place, all she got was a bed and the rest she had to shop for and purchase for herself.She smiled, thinking of the poorly made quilt tossed on the bed at Passion Fruit's place with the lumpy mattress and weird-smelling curtains.At least she was updating the place with new drapes and a colorful rug based on what her father said.
“This is alright,” Helen said softly, reaching for the suitcase, but finding it empty.“What in the world?”
The suitcase was unpacked and her clothing hung.On the desk was her laptop, charges, and three of her favorite knives were laid out as if guests were coming to be fileted.
“Bella might end up being a menace,” she said, reaching for her phone to call home.
In the corner near the window was an easy chair with a footstool.Helen parked herself in the chair, looking at the tiny table perfect for tea service with scones.The queen size bed was covered in a minty green matelassé cover and underneath were heavy woolen blankets.Leaning back, she used her personal phone to call her man.
