Close and Closer

NEVER TOO EARLY

 

It's 7 a.m. The sun is already up and so am I. Across the areaway my friend is busy making crepes. Our apartments are laid out exactly the same. I can see thru her sheer ninon curtains almost everything she does, except in the bathroom where we somehow manage to have a little privacy .

 

Sometimes when I want a breath of air or just want to connect with my friend, I raise my window that I keep greased with Vaseline and call to her, 'You hoo, Mrs. Kleinfeldt, what are you putting in your crepes?' That window is a pain in my yarse because I am a little person, 4'10" tall, a bit roly-poly for my height, but as my friend knows, I am far from helpless. Her window creaks but she gets it open and lets me know she will be using shrimp this time. I play it cool, tell her she makes great shrimp and/or cottage cheese crepes. My semi-ruse works. 'Which do you prefer, Mrs. Goodman? I'll bring you a few when they're done.'  I give her our 'OK' sign and close my window.

 

In less than ten minutes I am aware that Mrs. Kleinfeldt has her window open wide and is fanning her crepe frying pan over the sidewalk. She sees me and calls, 'I burned my crepes and the pan while we were talking. Don't you smell the smoke?' With little effort I let her know she has stunk up the neighborhood. Her resentment at my words brings out my better side.' Mrs. Kleinhardt, you know my twin granddaughters and dear daughter, Roxanne, don't you? Well, even as we speak, I am preparing meat blintzes for my three girls about 6 tonight. Blintzes are Jewish crepes, you know. I'll fill them with ground meat. Please join us.' Her unhurried, 'Yes' sends me into a frenzy of getting busy.

 

I crack six more eggs into the large bowl I planned on anyhow. From the freezer I take out two extra packages of frozen ground sirloin and set them on the sink counter to thaw. While they do, I set  my filled extra large aluminum soup pot on high to come to a slow boil for my best-in-the-world hearty chicken soup. I struggle to get the pot on the electric range as it weighs almost as much as I do. The butcher skinned the two heavy chickens I bought yesterday, severed the breasts, saved the wings for me and threw the feet and neck into his over-flowing garbage can. I peel the thin brown skin from an extra large onion, scrape an entire bunch of carrots, cut them into long strips, scrub several stalks of celery, go somewhat easy on the salt and pepper- and for the thrill of it, put in a few black all spices. It's been a lot of unexpected work for me but has buoyed my ennui for my girls and Mrs. Kleinfeldt's arrival.

 

A little early, she knocks on my door. I look up to her and shrink some more. She is six feet tall and skinny. Usually I see her at her window and fool myself that she is standing on a chair. There is no deception here as she looks down to me and hands me a still warm apple pie. On the kitchen counter she puts a plastic bag and from it takes two quarts of ice cream. I try to get them in my freezer but can't. By moving things around, getting rid of almost empty plastic bags, she makes room for the ice cream, keeps right on going like an electric train and wipes off the counter and then, with almost a roll of Bounty, dries up the floor.

 

My girls give a triple knock at the door, don't wait for me to answer and walk right in. My arms spread wide for them. Theirs spread for Mrs. Kleinfeldt first. A little pang plucks into my heart. Roxanne realizes I am jealous, hurt and makes a beeline for me. Her warmth and understanding envelop me. 'Dinner is ready,' but let's sit in the living room and chat a little while. Mr. Kleinhardt has brought us dessert and I don't want to rush away the time we all share.' The girls pout, want to know what dessert is, but will have to wait for the answer.

 

I take over, look at my friend and ask, 'Would you mind, Mrs. Kleinfeldt if I call you whatever your first name is?' She looks at me, nods and says, 'Jenny.' 'What's your first name, Mrs. Goodman.' I choke a little on it but say, 'Blossom.' She laughs and makes me laugh. Even the girls giggle .

 

I put a big pillow on my dining room chair so I can see everybody and we all laugh together.