Dottie unbuttoned her dress, letting it fall into a pool of cotton around her ankles. Midge about dropped the camera when she realized Dottie wasn’t wearing her undergarments.
“Well, kid. Looks like I’m the one surprised this time.”
Dottie placed her hand on her hip and posed the way she guessed nude models would. “Do you still want to waste time with silly pictures? My mother won’t be home until later.”
Midge place the camera down on the dresser.
~~~
Dottie’s mother must have finished her errands much earlier than expected. She somehow managed to open the door, take off her shoes and put away two bags of groceries before walking up the stairs to see if her daughter could give her a hand with lunch. The door was ajar. What she saw should have sent her to the floor. Instead, she moved her body out of the doorway and went back to preparing lunch. Her mind drifted in and out of the scene as she placed pieces of salami on rye bread with mustard. It was the first time she was grateful for her husband’s passing.
Footsteps from above told her that the girls were finished disgracing themselves and on their way to the kitchen. She put on her best front and turned to look at her daughter. The stupid girl’s face was flushed with excitement, as were her little friend’s.
“Whatcha making there?” asked Midge, pinning her hair back in place.
“Looks like sandwiches. That looks really good, Mom,” said Dottie. Her mother prayed that the girlfriend wouldn’t dare stay.
Midge smiled at Dottie, pinching her arm. “Well, I guess I should be going. I have to get back to the paper. They think I’m out taking pictures of the road construction on Clinton Street. Good-bye.” Midge stuffed her camera back in her bag and let the screen door smack behind her.
“Mom, why didn’t you ask Midge to stay for lunch?”
Her mother inhaled deeply and composed herself, looking down at the mustard-stained knife, wanting to plunge it into that degenerate’s heart. Instead, she thought of a more civil idea.
“I’m sorry, dear. Why don’t you invite her for dinner tonight? I just thought she had to get back to the newspaper. It would be easier for her to make dinner, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it would. I’ll run out and catch her now. Thanks, Mom.”
She watched her daughter gallop toward her lover, and it brought her stomach to a state of burning nausea.
~~~
Later that night, Mother set the table with trembling hands. The roast created an alluring aroma of spices throughout the kitchen. There came a knocking at the door.
“Dottie, honey? Will you get that, please?” Dottie sprung from the radio she had been trying to tune in and dashed for the door. Midge came in wearing a dark blue skirt, white blouse and black velvet blazer. Dottie whispered, “You look beautiful.” Midge answered with a sly wink. The two walked into the kitchen, trying not to touch.
“Hello, Midge,” said Mother cordially. “Come on in.”
“Thank you for having me. I brought some cupcakes from Hanson’s Bakery.” Mother took the delicate pink box from the girl’s sturdy hands. “Thank you. I’ll set them on the counter. Unless you want to spoil your dinner,” she said with a laugh, regretting her failed attempt at bringing light to her stale, uncomfortable mood. Mother set the roast on the table and placed various dishes in the girls’ hands. After the table had been set, Mother glanced at the clock. He still had a few minutes. Then came another knocking on the door. Mother’s stomach queasiness was replaced with excitement.
“Who is that? Are you expecting someone?” asked a confused Dottie. Mother answered her daughter with silence and went to the door.
“Looks like Mom has a date,” joked Midge, sneaking a quick kiss.
“Thank you for having me,” said the masculine voice. Mother came in beaming, with a handsome corporal on her arm. “Dottie, this is Mike. Do you remember meeting him when you were a child? He’s Nettie’s youngest son. He was there for D-Day, and he received a medal for bravery.” The young man stood tall and proud, nodding at both girls.
“Good evening, ladies.”
Midge and Dottie said good evening in unison and then laughed at the accidental mimicry. Mother was obviously miffed by their lack of honor for a man who nearly died for his country.
“Sit here by Dottie. Midge, honey, you don’t mind moving, do you?” Midge looked at Dottie, stung, but obliged anyhow.
The man sat happily by Dottie’s side with interest. “So, Dottie? Your mother tells me you work at the library. How interesting.”
Dottie looked at Midge, who was now stuck across the table, next to her mother.
“Umm… Yes, I do.”
“How do you like that?”
“I like it just fine.”
“Do you like to read a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do they let you read while you work?”
“Not really.”
Mother sensed that the conversation was going as well as a trip to the dentist. “Tell her about the war, Mike,” she jumped in.
“Well, ma’am, it’s a little hard to talk about certain things, but I suppose I could tell…”
The phone’s ringing interrupted the young man’s speech. “I’m sorry, dear. Let me get that.” Mother walked to the phone, embarrassed that she still had her apron on. She swiftly shook the ties loose and tossed the thing to the side.
“Hello?” Mother’s eyes met with Midge’s. “Yes, she’s here.” Mother waved Midge to the phone.
“I’m sorry. I gave the paper your number in case they needed to get in touch. I’m on call, because I’m the only photographer. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“Oh, no worries at all, dear,” said Mother, relieved that the girl might soon be out of her sight.
“Hello? Yes. What does that intersect with? Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Midge set the phone back. “I’m sorry, but I have to miss dinner.” Dottie’s eyes pleaded with her. “There’s a big fire at an apartment building. I have to go.”
“Oh, I hope it’s nobody we know,” said Mother, realizing it was the first genuine thing she had said to Midge all day.
“I’ll find out. If it’s not too bad, I’ll come back for dessert. My editor said this could be my big shot. I just have to show some guts,” she said, laughing. Midge winked at Dottie, grabbed her bag and disappeared into the night. Dottie’s chest sank, leaving her to slouch in her seat.
“So, Dottie. Do you have a boyfriend?” asked Mike.
~~~
About Ann Lamparski
