Okay guys - here's an update. Admittedly, I could have used another picture or two for this chapter, and there's a background flaw in some of them (d'oh!), but it's too labor intensive to shoot again so it will just have to do. I hope you enjoy it!
Tim gazed over at Ileeya, sleeping soundly, and felt envious. He wished he could claim sleep, as well. But as seemed the norm lately, he tossed and turned restlessly in bed until finally throwing in the towel and getting up. It was still and quiet, and once again his thoughts were rampaging out of control.
He was so weary of thinking of the situation with Shirra, and in an effort to avoid those thoughts, he concentrated on Gertie, instead. His heart ached with her loss. She had been like a grandmother to him. A best friend, a person he shared many things with. He shared more with her than he did his own mother.
He let his thoughts wander back in time, to when life was so much simpler and the only major decision he had to make each day was what fast food delivery he was going to order for dinner.
"Sigh. How can you stand this place, Tim? It's such a pig sty."
He cast an eye over the apartment. At the takeout boxes lying on the counter, the dirty counter, the pile of dirty laundry in the living room, the mess of trash Bones drug in that he hadn't gotten around to picking up.
"It's not that bad...,"
"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't be surprised if a monster snuck out from under your bed and kidnapped you. At least then I would understand why you didn't call more often."
"I'm sorry, time slipped away and I got busy...,"
"Busy doing what? Not cleaning, that's for sure." Her face suddenly lit up. "I know, a girlfriend! That's why you never call. You have a girlfriend and you've been busy - maybe thinking about popping the question. Of course I would hope you would have told me about something so important."
"Mom...,"
"So when do I get to meet her? When's the wedding? Do you have rings picked out, yet?"
"I'm not getting married."
"What! You've gotten a woman pregnant with my grandchild and you don't intend to marry her? I raised you better than that! If I were dead I'd be rolling in my grave right now."
"Mom! Nobody is pregnant. I don't even have a girlfriend."
"Sigh. I truly don't understand it, Timmy. You're a gorgeous boy. You have a," she cast a furtive look around, "decent place. You're fun loving and caring, a little too predictable, but you have a lot to offer."
"I just haven't found anyone I like."
"Well try not to take forever. I would like grandchildren someday, you know. Before I rot."
Tim rolled his eyes mentally, but said nothing. "So, how's Dad?" he said, desperately trying to change the topic.
"Great. I think. I hardly ever get to see him. Ever since the pond was dug he's been fishing nonstop. You should see all the fish he has mounted up on the walls. And when he's not having them mounted, he's cooking them on the fancy grill he bought. You've seen the grill, have you? Oh, that's right, you haven't been to visit since we got it
three months ago. We have fish for dinner nearly every night. And for lunch. Sometimes he's even up at the crack of dawn grilling fish for breakfast! There's nothing quite like the smell of charred salmon at six in the morning! My whole house smells like fish. He cooks it outside, but the smell always comes in the house and clings to everything. Fishy blankets, fishy furniture, fishy clothes, fishy carpet, even
Mr. Peaches smells like fish, although he probably doesn't mind, being a cat and all. I swear if your father feeds me fish one more time I'm going to grow fins and jump in the nearest ocean! What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I'm just happy you came for a visit."
"So. Whatever have you been doing with yourself if you're not dating or cleaning up this wreck you call a house? I'm telling you, you need to hire a maid or something. Maybe a cook, too," she eyed the takeout containers suspisciously. "It's not healthy to be eating that garbage all the time."
"I'll think about it."
"You'll think about it. You told me that the last time I was here and that was several months ago. How do you live in this mess? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend. I was thinking of attending a Social next weekend, and inviting you, hoping you would meet a nice girl. But what am I supposed to say. 'This is my son, Trashy Tim'? That wouldn't go over well there, that's for sure."
"I don't want to meet any girl that goes to a Country Club, Mom I can't stand those women. They're so fake and...plastic. It would be like dating a mannequin."
His mother looked at him incredulously. "
I go to the country club! I'm not like that."
"That's because you're already married. You don't need to scout for an eligible man."
For a miraculous minute, his mother was speechless, and the only sound that could be heard was the buzzing of flies circling the takeout containers. But it wasn't long before his mother broke the silence. It never was.
"Have I told you about Gertie, yet?"
"No...I'm not interested in a blind date, Mom."
"Not for a date, to clean up your abyss of an apartment."
Tim rolled his eyes mentally again and kept his mouth shut while his mother continued.
"She was my neighbor's nanny for many years, but their youngest just went off to college and now she's looking for another job. In addition to taking care of the children, she also cooked and cleaned. That would be perfect for you."
"I don't have any kids..."
"Maybe you will, someday, after we find you a girlfriend."
"I'll think about it."
"Pfaw! I'm sending her over tomorrow for an interview."
Once again he rolled his eyes inwardly. Arguing with her did no good.
The following morning, Tim woke up to an unusal smell. It was...pancakes! With real maple syrup. The smell had creeped up the stairs and was luring him its source. His mother must have come back and made breakfast for him. She was naggy, but she was a good mom.
He quickly showered and dressed and went downstairs, where there was a steaming plate sitting on the table. But the woman standing at the stove was not his mother.
"Good morning. You must be Tim. Breakfast is ready"
"And you are..."
"I'm Gertie. Oh, I hope you don't mind me letting myself in. Your mother gave me a key. Said you could use some help, and boy was she right! Never in all my years of caring for kids have I seen such a mess! And I thought
children were messy."
Tim looked around. He would hardly have recognized the place. Everything was clean. No garbage laying around, the windows gleamed, the floor was visible. He had to admit to himself the place looked great. He looked over at Bones who was watching Gertie with a hopeful eye, wagging his tail.
"Some watchdog you turned out to be," he grumbled. Bones glaced his way before returning his gaze to the lady with the food.
"Sit down and we'll talk about my terms of employment."
Tim tried to keep an amused smile from creeping onto his face. She was a lot like his mother.
"I work from six a.m. to seven p.m. with a two hour break from twelve to two. I cook, clean, and shop for groceries. I'll also take care of your lovely dog. Bathing is a necessity, you know. Poor dog was so filthy he was drawing flies, just like the rest of this apartment. I'll provide breakfast and dinner, five days a week. I assume you can heat up leftovers the other two days? I have Tuesdays and Saturdays off."
Tim took a bite of the pancakes. They were homemade buttermilk. The rich texture melted in his mouth, sheer perfection. His mother was a pretty good cook, but these were the best he'd ever had.
"If you like those, wait until you taste the steak I'm making for dinner."
"Steak?" Tim echoed hollowly.
"I charge $300 per week. Do we have a deal?"
Kind of pricey, but it was worth it. Tim couldn't remember the last time he had steak. And if it was anything like these pancakes, he wouldn't be paying her enough.
"Definitely," Tim mumbled through a mouthful of food.
Tears stung his eyes. He would never see Gertie again. And his parents. Would he ever get to see them again? He cursed this place. Why? Why was he here? If it's true that Ileeya brought him here, then
why did she do it?
Something big is going to happen, Timmy.Tim resisted the urge to punch the stone wall with his fist. Instead, he crawled into bed, willing his brain to quiet so he could try to salvage the rest of the night.
