“I guess,” she paused.“I learned today your mother has turned me into a food snob.This woman stuck a fish in the oven and covered it with lemons.Halfway through the bake she tossed on some capers.It was served with white rice and blanched broccoli.I'm leaving.I quit and I'm packing my shit and coming home.In the morning, there will be a boiled egg served in an egg cup and a piece of white toast.I've died and gone to white hell.I'm not going to make it.”
Mustang howled with laughter into the line.Helen found no humor in it and wanted him to stop laughing at her expense.
“It's not funny.Last month, it was a crazy woman out shooting and skinning squirrels, trying to save the mini fur pelts to line her boots, and now this bullshit,” Helen said, falling back on the bed.“Squirrel stew is disgusting I will have you know.I refused to even deal with the mental trauma of walking into the kitchen to discover the raccoon she had on her counter soaking in milk, and now I am having fish covered in lemons with no seasoning.Just boiled white rice and that boiled egg this morning has given me gas.I hate it here.”
“Helen,” he said, trying to punch down his laughter, “can't you cook your own meals?”
“There is a situation in the home unbeknownst to me,” she said.“I cannot, and I don't know what Azrael is expecting of me in this situation.I don't know what I'm expecting of myself.There is a reset which must happen here, but I'm not the conduit.I want to leave.”
“Take the evening, read and have your settling tea, and in the morning, it will all make sense,” he said.“You have the ability to sleep on it and wake refreshed.”
“I also have a crafting machine where I can think of a hundred other things to do, and this ain't one of them,” Helen sighed deeply.
“You'll figure it out,” he said.“I love you, if that helps.”
“It does because I love you as well,” Helen said, adding a few other words and ending the call.
Helen sat for a moment, then righted herself.She exited the bedroom and went down the stairs to find quietness.Then she heard Donovan speaking, almost challenging someone.Fear struck her heart as she entered the dining room to find him at the table with Bella playing cards.Bella evidently was trying to pull one over on him and he caught her.
“Ms.Bella, you're going to have to do better than that,” he said.“I spent my summers playing Pinochle with my Gran.I know how to play the game.”
“Your Gran didn't teach you this,” Bella said, slapping cards on the table.
Donovan looked up at Helen.“My Gran taught me a lot of things.I bet our friend over there was taught a lot of things by her Gran as well.Like making a good vegetable soup with either some hot cornbread or mouthwatering biscuits.My friend, do you know how to make those things?”
“I do,” Helen said looking at him.
“Ms.Bella, does that sound good for tomorrow?To let our new friend make us some biscuits or cornbread with a hearty pot of veggie soup?I mean I know you would love a break from cooking for a day.Would that work?”
“A pot of soup sounds divine,” Bella replied, slapping more cards on the table, winning the hand.
“You beat me again, Ms.Bella.Thank you for the game,” Donovan said, rising.
He walked towards Helen, grazing her arm for her to follow him.She did, going to the laundry room out of earshot of Tiffany and her mother.He lowered his voice.“I'm sorry.It's not a black thing, but anything you cook has to be better than that fish she made tonight.I will help, if need be, but I am not eating any more of her cooking.Hopefully, I can be out of here in a day or so and on about my life.”
“I was thinking along similar lines, but I have a question,” Helen said.“I want to learn how you tracked her money.There are a few people I need to dig down into or rather find, and that money tracking thing may be just the ticket.Can you show me?”
Donovan watched her face.“What is your name?”
“Shenita,” she told him without a pause.
“You said it with a straight face, which is either a practiced lie, or you want to keep who you are away from me,” he said.
“My birth certificate says Shenita.My father named me Shenita, and my mother agreed with him,” she said, offering a soft smile.
“Fair enough, Ms.Shenita,” he said.“Depending on what the instructor has planned for tomorrow, I will show you the way.”
“Thank you,” Helen said, feeling better about the circumstance, but still, the nagging feeling would not go away.She didn't want to be here.
****
DONOVAN WAS LATE COMINGup the stairs for his morning helping of a boiled egg and unbuttered crunchy white toast.The coffee sitting in the pot on the counter was a mixture of some hipster’s idea of a morning ritual ground together with pecans.It tasted like a squirrel had shitted and someone boiled it then poured it in a cup.
Curiosity prompted Helen to head to the basement.In one area underside of the home, the cars were parked in the three-car garage.Her car took the single space and the free plug to prevent her battery from freezing in the sub-zero temperature.A wall with a door divided the space with a small workstation which housed lawn equipment and basic home tools.The remainder of the space was a closed in room.She assumed this where Donovan was staying.
It was warmer in the basement that she imagined, thinking the fireplace in the space was warming the other half of the space, preventing the cold.Helen walked to the door and tapped lightly, waiting for permission to enter or him to meet her at the opening.
“I'm coming,” she heard the call, then the words, “Open up.Open up.”
