Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: In-Law(s) (05/08/08)
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TITLE: Memories | Previous Challenge Entry
By Phoebe Marlowe
05/15/08 -
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The sheepish smile on Mark’s face disappeared behind Edna’s wavy gray hair as they embraced. “Hi, Mom.”
Edna kept one arm around his waist, her eyes nearly disappearing in folds of skin as she smiled. “This is my baby,” she said, looking at Jenna.
“I know,” Jenna said, her teeth clenching as she pasted a smile onto her face. The Florida sun and damp steamy air pressed down on her as she waited her turn.
Edna at last released Mark and held out her arms to his wife. “Hey, Jenna,” she said.
The familiar scent of Shalimar mixed with a more pungent aroma that had Jenna wrinkling her nose. She pulled back and noticed for the first time there were stains on the front of Edna’s white knit top.
“Come in,” Edna said, leading the way into her small bungalow. Jenna hung back, inhaling the salt tang of the nearby bay. Her gaze fell on Edna’s flowerbed, overgrown with weeds.
Jenna suddenly remembered Edna’s first visit to their home. On her way in, she’d stooped to pull weeds from a flowerbed bordering the sidewalk, her very action a rebuke. “I love working in the garden. It’s pure therapy to me,” she’d said.
“You coming?” Mark leaned out the front door.
Jenna shook off the memory and followed him inside. The darkness of the tiny house fell like a curtain over her sun-dazzled eyes. The smell of mildew and stale air closed her throat.
“Oh, we forgot the suitcases,” she said, ducking back out the door.
She hurried down the stone path and opened the trunk. A paperback novel protruded from the front pocket of her bag and Jenna zipped it inside.
She would never forget the disdainful look on Edna’s face the last time she’d found one of Jenna’s books. “I see these women reading their romance novels. I never read those books.”
Jenna lugged the bags inside, smiling again, shooing Mark away as he rose to help. She carried the bags into the guest room and frowned at the rumpled bed and dusty furniture.
Edna’s bedroom was not much better. The bed was unmade, clothes thrown over the desk chair, grayish-green mold on the plaster walls.
Jenna dropped into the living room’s one easy chair.
“How are you, Edna?” Her cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Not bad for eighty-eight,” Edna said, folding her arms. “The doctors would have had to find another way to make a living if they depended on me.”
Jenna remembered the visit she’d suffered a migraine and stopped at a drugstore as Edna looked on. “I look around at all these medicines and think someone must buy all these things! I certainly never need them,” Edna had said.
A vice tightened at the base of Jenna’s skull. “I think I need some water. Is it all right if I help myself?”
“Well, of course.”
In the kitchen, Jenna peeked into the refrigerator to find it empty except for a few condiments and an expired carton of orange juice. Browning bananas on top of the refrigerator seemed to be the only food in the house.
Memory produced another picture: Edna, sitting in their kitchen, astonished that Jenna didn’t know how much a dozen eggs cost. “Every year when Mark was little, I bought a side of beef and froze it. My steak didn’t cost as much as most folks’ baloney,” she’d said.
“Does your mom seem all right to you?” Jenna asked later. They’d spent a long evening watching television before finally pleading fatigue from the drive.
Mark froze. “What do you mean?”
Jenna closed her eyes to block out the worry and denial on his face. Edna obviously needed their help--had deteriorated noticeably in the six months since they’d seen her--so why couldn’t Jenna let go of the petty slights and insults of the last five years? Guilt layered over the resentment and dislike Jenna had harbored since she met Mark’s mother.
Edna raised Mark on her own after she finally left her abusive husband. Was it any wonder she was possessive of her son? Or that she felt a need to establish her rightful place in the eyes of his wife?
Jenna swallowed hard. “I know how much you love your mother, Mark. I think you have some tough decisions to make, but I promise you won’t have to make them alone. I want what’s best for her, too.”
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