BUTINSKI

I’m on my knees planting tulip bulbs to brighten spring, still five months away. My neighbor, Michelle, pauses on her way to the supermarket to say good morning. ‘Good Morning, Charlotte. I see you are on your knees again. Why don’t you use a cushion? I tell you every year. ‘ Ignoring her comment doesn’t shut her up. ‘ Did you get more white tulips? They didn’t improve your border last April. Yellow would be much sunnier.’ Holding my tongue, I give her my dirty look that she somehow never notices. Another hole, another white bulb drops in. It somehow gives me a slight satisfaction. What is she going to complain about when two dozen red ones circle the white?

With that job done, I get up off my knees, go inside, wash my few tools and self. A cup of instant decaf Maxwell House coffee is already on my kitchen table when a soft knock, knock sounds. Michelle opens the door before I do. ‘Caught you. Caught you, drinking that slop again. Pour it down the sink and come over to my house. I’ve got a pot of Columbia perking. You’ll taste the difference and love it. I’ll cut my delicious coffee cake I baked yesterday. It’s covered with sliced almonds.’ Saying ‘no thank you’ to her never works. Cheerfully as I can, I sing out, ‘Be right there’.

The coffee is much too strong for me but I manage to take a few sips. The almond ring is delicious, almost worth my short trip and anxiety. I’m somewhat relaxed. We chat amiably until Michelle suggests I ask her gardener to give me a few hours a week. She means well but really does annoy me. I don’t want to be Michelle. I want to be me. One day I will tell her to mind her own business. That day may be when she happens to make her chocolate chocolate cake too soggy.

Saturday Michelle and I are going jean shopping. Delly, who lives at the far end of our round about is joining us. She’s so sweet, she is like a bottle of whole grain saccharine. She’ll be the driver. To keep the peace we avoid discussing politics, stick to movies, who’s doing what to whom, sales. At Bloomie’s lunch room, Delly orders English tea with her egg salad sandwich on whole wheat toast. I order decaf coffee with my scoop of shrimp salad. Michelle stops our waitress and suggests I get regular coffee instead of decaf. The waitress looks at me and I repeat, ‘Decaf, please.’ Although I long for a large slice of coconut custard pie, I skip it, knowing Michellle will ask me why I have never learned to bake well.

Bloomingdale’s bulges with customers. Their back to school and jean sale is in full swing. We dawdle but don’t buy any cosmetics and head for the escalator. As we step off we are confronted by too many kids, without and without their mothers. I want to walk around the UP and head straight DOWN again. The usual neat racks and stacks of jeans are in total disarray. A few are lying on the floor. I pick up one and plop it back on the closest table. Not a salesperson is in sight.

Michelle tosses jeans around and locates three pairs in the size she thinks will be right. Delly and I each find two. The dressing rooms are all filled. Michelle notices the extra large room for handicapped people is empty, holds the door for us and pushes us in. ‘How many disabled people do you know who wear jeans?’ she asks. Maybe she’s right. We undress. Michelle asks me which style I like best on her.’ I tell her what I think. ‘The dark wash fits best. The straight legs make you look slimmer and taller. The other one is too tight, a lot too tight.’ As expected, ignoring my comments, Michelle charges all three. Delly asks us no questions, makes up her own mind and leaves her cast offs neatly on hangers in the dressing room. I look carefully in the three way mirror and like both, especially the one with slightly flared legs and a high rise. Michelle tsk, tsks at me and tells me I can look better. ‘Forget the sale. Come back and get a Shopper to help you. I’m not sure you are a jeans woman.’ This time I lose control, can’t stop myself and go at her. ‘Did I ask your opinion, Chelle? Mind your own business for once.’ I take the jeans that will soon be mine and head to the cashier.

Delly touches me on my shoulder. Her constantly smiling face shines even more as she winks her approval to me. ‘Good for you! Michelle needed that.’ My outburst is never mentioned again.

Delly leaves us off at our connecting houses and she continues to the end of the circle. I go thru my garage and find an old pillow to kneel on next fall.