SPFC: Ode To Joy

Truly, my boss was one of the most gorgeous people alive. She had the most beautiful eyes, a glorious skin tone, and the loveliest temperament imaginable. She was also an incredibly talented baker and savvy businesswoman. I was so very, very fond of her. And also secretly mortified at the amount of time it had taken me to corral the feelings I’d harbored for her husband for most of my life.

Cletus Winston was honestly everything I admired in a person. He was wicked smart, a talented businessman, handsome in a broad and sturdy, user-friendly sort of way. There was a time I would have been happy to let him check my fluid levels, so to speak, had I been brave enough to put myself out there. He was also prone to being very kind to people who needed said kindness. He wouldn’t want anyone to know so. But that’s a story for another day.

After some time now of watching Jenn and Cletus together, their love growing like the best sourdough starter, I gradually absorbed the difference between my feelings and what they were experiencing. At first glance, it might look the same, though mine was one-sided. But, no. There’s was a falling where each met a soft landing in the other. I was happy for them now.

Being among the ranks of those who loved love, I thought it a crying shame there had been no big wedding for everyone to celebrate. I got it, though. My boss was much more comfortable behind the scenes, and the only persons eyes she truly wanted on her were those of her husband. And who could blame her? Certainly not me.

“Hey, Joy. Can you lock up for me?” Jenn asked, hovering in the door of her office. She was pulling a shoe onto her heel.

“Of course. Do you have plans this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’m going over and, hopefully, take a nap with my niece while Ashley and Drew have an outing.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! She is just the sweetest little muffin! I wish I could send her a treat, but we’ll have to wait until she’s eating solid food, won’t we?”

Jenn laughed softly, “Yeah, probably five or six months out.”

Not only was I a lover of love, but I loved the best of the fruits of love, which were babies.

“Well, you have a marvelous time!”

“Thank you so much. I’ll see you tomorrow."

I heard the back door click shut behind her as I did a final wipe down of the counters and cases.

I grabbed the largest of the bakery boxes and filled it with the muffins and croissants we had left. I put my apron with today's laundry and grabbed my bag and the box I had just filled. Jenn knew I took a box of the items that would not keep until the next day.

I locked the door behind me and started my quick walk home. We lived three blocks and a right turn off of main street, and unless it was intolerably cold, I enjoyed my walks home. This time of year especially. The leaves had turned, and the colors were so beautiful that I was distracted when I heard my name called.

“JoyJoy!”

I turned and beamed at one of the absolute loves of my life, “Marshal! How was your day?”

His hair was tousled about his head. He had the habit of enthusing and then turning shy. He looked down at the ground, rocking his body back and forth as he almost sang, “goood!”

Marshal and I had a system. I would never reach for him without permission. We had figured this out when he was a small boy. We had agreed that I always wanted hugs, but he had to tell me each day if it was a hug day.

“I’m so glad,” I said and handed him the bakery box.

He made a happy noise and held it under one arm, motioning to me with the other, “Hug.”

It was a hug day. He was seventeen now, but his hugs were the same sweet, awkward clutch they had been all of the time I’d known him.

As I hugged him, I whispered, “They had your favorite, buddy.”

“Boobry,” He whispered back.

“Yeah,” I patted his back before I stepped back, “blueberry is your favorite.”

I could see Marshal’s dad leaning against the porch railing. He smiled at me as he straightened and prompted, “What do you say, son?”

“Tank!”

“You are more than welcome, buddy. There’s enough to share with your friends at story time later, but only if you want to.”

He made another happy noise and walked back toward the porch. Marshal handed up the box to his father, and I could hear him chanting, “Tori, tie, tori tie” Story time. This made me smile as I thought of Tori Henderson, who volunteered at the local library once a week, providing a special story time for kids with sensory issues.

“You know that is perfect because it is story time and Tori time. That’s a perfect name for it! I like Tori, too. She’s so great.”

Noel, still standing at the rail with the pastry box in hand, gave me a nod.

“It’s just amazing how many great people there are in the world, you know? I mean, I know there are lots of horrible ones too, but I think our town must have a higher than normal percentage of the good ones. Don’t you think.?”

His smile spread a little wider. He was really quite handsome when he smiled. I’m not sure I’d ever noticed it before, which was a shame, really. He’d been my neighbor for a long while.

“Thank you for these,” he said, motioning with the box, “He does like to share them. Don’t you, Marsh?”

Marshal was back to his normal sway as he shook his head yes.

“I better get home and see how Mama’s doing,” I waved to them and continued down the road.

I lived just two houses away and opened the gate as quietly as possible. As usual, it didn’t work. My pug Stella came barreling out of the dog door, skipped the bottom three steps, landed in a patch of mud and had her front paws spoiling my favorite denim skirt before I could dodge her.

“Stella!” I barked.

She barked back and continued pawing at my legs, begging to be picked up. I looked at the mess she made and huffed. To her initial delight, I reached down and hefted her up. But, she began to whine and complain as I turned her with paws facing out and hustled up the steps.

She really began to protest when I stuffed her under my armpit to twist the doorknob. Her furious wiggling almost got her free, but I adjusted my grip and carried her like a football to the utility sink in the laundry room.

“Hey, Mama!” I hollered as I went.

“Hey, baby,” she called back. It sounded like she was upstairs.

“Stella got me good! Little demon hit a puddle before she got to me,” I called back as I washed her paws while she wiggled wildly in my vice grip.

Now I had water dripping from my face from the splash back. I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wiped her wet paws, setting her down. She took off running.

I looked at the towel in my hand, shrugged, turned it to the opposite side, and wiped my face. As I threw it toward the hamper, I saw Mama leaning against the door jam, smiling. Her breathing was a bit labored.

“She certainly did get you good. I’ll give your skirt a scrub with the good dish soap before we wash it. I’m sorry, I forgot to latch the dog door.”

“Don’t fret over it, Mama. She just needs to play more. I’ve got to find her a playdate or something.”

“I’d rather you found yourself a playdate first,” she lifted a brow at me.

“Mama,” I warned.

She turned and started walking toward the kitchen as she talked. I followed, picked up the bag I'd dropped by the front door, and stuffed it in the hall closet.

I followed her voice and the banging noises into the kitchen, where she was reciting her favorite argument and dishing up something that smelled divine from a stock pot. I sat with a heavy sigh and kicked off my runners under the table.

“I’m telling you, baby, It’s time. You have no problem putting yourself out there for anyone else. You will go over the top for your job, for me and your brother, for any neighbor who needs it. It's time you put some effort into the things you want.”

“It’s not that simple,” I countered with my usual argument, “The things I want have not been readily available to me.”

Her gait was getting that slower crook to it like it always did this late in the day. She set a steaming bowl in front of me and a plate with a slice of homemade bread slathered in butter.

“This smells amazing. What is it?”

“Borsch! Mrs. Gusev gave me some of the beets from her garden and talked me through the recipe. Oh, wait!”

She walked back to the fridge and pulled out a squeeze container of sour cream, “It’s even better with a dollop of this.”

“Thank you. You're getting so good at trying all of these new things! Your international recipe club is going to cause me to have to double up on my workouts.”

“That is my evil plot,” she laughed.

“Mean,” I admonished, but dug into her scrumptious soup and let her get her lecture out of the way.

“I know it can be hard waiting for the things you want most in life. But, it's important to do good things for yourself in the meantime. It's important to live in the now."

I sighed deeply as I wondered if maybe it was time Mama and I stopped talking around this issue. I knew she knew. The horrible part is that everyone knew. It was not lost to me that I was a heart-on-my-sleeve kind of person. It’s not like it was something I wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t something I could help either. It just was.

I set my spoon down, “What if the thing I’ve wanted is something that doesn’t belong to me?”

“Or someone?” she said softly.

“Or someone,” I echoed, wiping the tears that had slipped down my cheeks.

Mama scooted her chair closer to mine and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I gave up trying to hold in the tears, I’m sure my face was as red as the soup.

I could never get past an intense emotion without my cheeks flaming the red of cherry pie filling. I could be happy, angry, sad, or excited. But, there was no getting around the stain on my face. So, I let myself cry with my head on Mama’s soft shoulder until I could settle and speak again. She patted my arm tenderly and waited.

“I feel like I’ve wasted so much time,” I choked, “He was never going to love me. He always belonged to someone else.”

“Do you really believe that?” Mama pressed, the line between her brows growing deeper. Her own color was high now.

“Of course. Anyone can see from watching them together. They were made for each other.”

“I am not sure it works like that.”

“What? How can you say that? Look at you and Daddy. There was never anyone else for either of you.”

“Listen,” Mama began, clearing her throat. She reached and handed me a stack of napkins and took a deep breath before training her serious gaze on me, “It is common for children to have this kind of idealized view of their parents. But it’s not true, and it’s not that simple.”

“Wait, are you trying to tell me Daddy had someone else he loved before you? You’ve never mentioned this before!”

Mama slumped back in her chair and gazed at the ceiling, “I can’t speak for your daddy, but he was not the first man I fell in love with.”

You could have picked my jaw up off the table, I was so shocked. In fact, Mama let out a huff of a laugh before she reached over and pushed my chin back in place.

“Sometime I’ll tell you the whole story. But right now I want you to think on this: If people are destined just for one person, then why would destiny, or God, or cupid for that matter…why would any of them cause you to remain so totally taken with a man that wasn’t yours?”

“Maybe I’m just a bad person?”

“Dear Lord, Joy, That is just nonsense. You are an incredible person. There is no one who holds a candle to you. You’re problem is you think love comes just one way and it really doesn’t. It can hit you over the head, but it can also hold your hand and everything in between.”

“Mama, I have never heard you talk like this. Have you been on the mental health clicky app again?”

“There’s some good information on there, don’t knock it. But no,” She said, squeezing my hand, “Listen to your old mama and file this away for later. There are many different kinds of love and not all of them are the forever kind. Maybe someday you will understand why your heart took to Cletus Winston the way it has. My hope is for you to find someone to share a life with. If that is what you want.”

“I do want that. But It wouldn’t be right to ask anyone to play second fiddle, even to someone who’s not a real threat. Everyone should have someone who adores them just as much in return."

Mama put her hands to my burning cheeks and looked intently at me saying just one word, “Exactly."