Split Black /#Wattys 2021

Chapter Twenty-five

John parked in front of the house and trudged onto the front porch, trying to steel himself against the ordeal of calling Ma, when he caught sight of a cardboard box in front of the door. He wasn't expecting any deliveries.

He checked the address to make sure it wasn't delivered to the wrong house. The address was his, and the package wasn't for Lizzie, it was for him. He unlocked the door and carried it inside.

The shipping label concealed a little envelope. John ripped it off and discovered a gift card with a printed message: "Told you I'd get you a new one! Lizzie." John drew out a pocket knife and cut the tape. The picture on the inner box looked like the exact model grind-and-brew machine she had ruined. He tore the outer carton, lifted out the inner carton, struggled with more tape and packing material, and there it was, all shiny and new.

He set it in the spot formerly occupied by the ruined coffee maker and put some plain water through to wash out any factory dust. Then he poured some Molten Chocolate beans in and brewed himself a cup. The vital aromas of dark chocolate and dark coffee mingled and drifted through the house. He still had to call Ma, but it seemed much more cheerful a job now.

He dialed. The line rang, and Ma picked up.

"Ma, it's John."

"I thought you were never going to call! Didn't Lizzie give you the message?"

"She did, Ma, but I was working till one a.m. and then I was at work all day." No sense telling her he'd really had another day off in between.

"Well, thank God you finally called. Things are awful here, Johnny." Tears crept into her voice. "I don't know what to do."

"Lizzie said you got fired."

"Yes, I did, and I don't even know why. She had no right to fire me. I didn't do anything wrong."

"What happened?" John poured his cup of luscious-smelling brew and opened the refrigerator for cream.

"Sandy said she was losing membership because of me," said Ma. "She said I was creating an 'adversarial atmosphere' in her gym." That accusatory, little-girl tone again. John could just see her head pecking back and forth like a bird after a worm.

Sandy Smith was Ma's boss at the gym. John had met her once when he picked Ma up after work to take her out to dinner. The gym was old, and so was the equipment in it—Sandy had bought it at a fire sale several years ago when a small local chain went bankrupt—but it looked clean and offered a full slate of classes, and it had everything but a pool. Sandy was painting inside and fixing it up as best she could on what looked to be a limited budget.

John couldn't understand this latest. Sandy seemed like a nice enough person, and his mother was unfailingly pleasant to people she didn't know well.

"I don't get it, Ma," he said. "How'd she arrive at that?"

"I have no idea. I have lots of friends there. A lot of women signed petitions to the paper for me, and my classes were always full. But Sandy said this Valerie lady I told you about—remember that?"

John caught himself nodding and said, "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, you remember what she said to me, right? In the locker room, right in front of all those women?"

"Yeah." John stirred in sugar and sipped his Molten Chocolate. He'd gotten the grind just right—not too weak, not too bitter. The brew slid across his tongue like velvet.