Negative Space XX

By Myra Love

May 7, 2002

 Chapter XX

Amanda's house was crowded by the time Andy and I got there. Most of the pen club folks were there. Mr. Harmon was the first to see us as we came in the door, and he waved and called out, 'Hello Lisa" over the din. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.
Andy took hold of my hand and pulled me in the direction of Mr. Harmon, who grinned at him and said, "Hello, Officer. I remember when you were a punk who ran if he saw the police cruising down the street."
Andy blushed and let go of my hand. I wished Mr. Harmon hadn't said what he did, but there was nothing I could do except try to draw his attention away from Andy.
"So, have you seen Miss Carswell?" I asked.
Mr. Harmon winked at me. "No, she's not here yet. I'm sure she was invited though."
I shrugged. "Yes, so am I. But how is she going to get here? She doesn't drive at night anymore."
The woman standing next to Mrs. Harmon said, "I'm sure she'll be fine. Like owls and witches at night."
Mr. Harmon cleared his throat. "Now, Betsy," he remonstrated.
She smiled sweetly at him. "Bob, I didn't say she was an owl or a witch. Anyway, I'm sure that if she phoned, someone would go and get her. Though I'm surprised she didn't set up transportation for herself in advance. She's usually one to think ahead."
"Lisa," Mr. Harmon said quickly, "I don't think you've ever met my wife."
I was surprised that I hadn't as almost everyone in town was familiar to me from the bank. But then, the Harmons didn't really live in town, and they didn't patronize the bank where I worked. I shook my head. "No, I haven't had the pleasure until now."
"Betsy, this is Lisa Dunn, a member of the pen club. Lisa this is Betsy, my wife."
We shook hands tentatively. Her hand felt cold and her grip was weak. Then I remembered that Mr. Harmon's wife was supposed to have a progressive disease, and I wondered why she was standing instead of sitting down someplace. Why had she come at all?
"You know, Bob," I heard her say, "I really would like to sit down."
"Of course, dear," he replied, taking her hand reassuringly. "Let's head into the living room. I'm sure we can find you a comfortable perch."
I turned back to ask Andy what he wanted to do, but he had disappeared. So I shrugged and pushed my way through the crowd milling in the hallway that led into the main part of the house. I didn't see anyone I knew until Diana appeared at the door to the kitchen. I started to make my way towards her.
"Don't come this way, Lisa," she called out. "I'll come out to you."
She maneuvered through the crowd with much greater success and grace than I'd exhibited. I grinned, surprised at how glad I was to see her.
"Here, let's put your coat in the room under the stairs. We can stow your sketchbook in there too," she said, pointing with one hand and gently pushing me with the other. "Those are your sketches, right?"
I nodded as we made our way back towards the stairway. Diana seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Good. I have a copy of my manuscript for you. You can take it home and read it."
"You're just giving me a copy of your manuscript?"
She smiled. "Well, you can return it if you like after you're done. I'll take a look at your sketches later tonight. That way we'll both find out what the other is about."
I was surprised, having imagined that Diana would just look through my sketches, decide if she thought I was good enough, and then commission me to draw what she wanted. This sounded more like a collaboration than a commission, and I admit, I liked the idea and the respect for me and my work that it implied.
Once we'd left my coat and the sketchbook, Diana steered me back into the party but away from the kitchen.
"Is there some reason you don't want me in there?" I asked. "Isn't that where Amanda is? I really should say hello."
She smirked. "She's busy fighting with Lore Harnisch," she replied, a wry smile on her face. "I was the subject of their argument last time I heard, but not the intended audience. There's a man in there egging them on, and I think that is really upsetting Amanda. I can't work up too much sympathy though." She shook her head. "Nothing like being talked about as if you aren't there," she added softly.
I briefly put my hand on her arm. "That old woman is really a piece of work," I said.
She shook her head. "She is, but she doesn't bother me. It's the way Jason and Amanda respond to her."
"Let's go and see if we can deflect the conversation from you to me," I offered.
She giggled. "You're too kind. It won't work though. You may be poor, but as the old b…, er, woman, said (and I quote), 'At least that dirt farmer's kid is white'. She is obsessed with miscegenation, among other things. As if I'd even consider marrying Jason or any other white boy with no prospects."
I looked at her askance. "White boy with no prospects?"
She giggled. "Now I sound like my mother, don't I?"
I shook my head. "I wouldn't know. I've never met your mother."
Her giggle became more pronounced. "Well, believe me, I'm sounding like her. Sorry! It's just that this family is so crazy. They all dance around Grandma Lore Harnisch as if she were the proverbial elephant in the living room."
"And she loves every minute of it," I observed.
Diana nodded. "That she does." She eyed me skeptically. "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I want to say hello to Amanda," I replied, and she turned and led me to the kitchen.
The man Diana had described as egging Jason's grandmother on was none other than Stew, who was still looking on and occasionally adding, "Really!" and "You don't say!" to the conversation between Amanda and her mother.
I stood behind Stew and could not be easily seen by either of the women speaking.
"Really!" Amanda was saying as I walked in. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Diana is a Methodist, not a heathen. She told me so, and I have no reason to disbelieve her."
I looked over at Diana who was standing in the doorway, rolling her eyes. "They're still at it," she mouthed at me. I shrugged and listened to Lore Harnisch hold forth on the intrinsically heathen nature of all Asians.
"They can't help it," she said firmly and with great conviction. "No matter how much they try, they aren't like us."
"Thank heavens," I mouthed at Diana, who struggled to repress a snort.
"Now, mother, there's nothing intrinsically heathen about anyone. Faith is faith," Amanda replied, trying to sound reasonable. "It's not about bloodlines but about belief."
Lore Harnisch shook her head disparagingly. 'You're so naïve, Amanda, with all your worldly ways. You'd believe anything those liberal friends of yours told you."
":Liberal friends?" Amanda repeated. "Whom are you talking about?"
"You think I don't know," Lore Harnisch trumpeted, "but I've seen you talking to that fake minister I denounced. I know what you're up to, trying to dilute my religion."
Amanda shook her head. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say," she shouted at her mother, losing all semblance of control, "and I've heard some pretty stupid things come out of your mouth."
"That Chinese girl is a heathen. They're all heathens. Just like those Jews you sell your cartoons to at those big newspapers."
At that point Stew, grinning broadly, said, "Jewish heathens! Chinese Methodist heathens! That's very good. I like that a lot!"
That was when I intervened. I couldn't help it. I reached up and tapped Stew on the shoulder. When he turned, I greeted him with, "Hello. How are you? Where's Cathy?"
Before he had a chance to reply I smiled at Lore Harnisch and explained, "Cathy is the unwed, pregnant girl that Stew was kind enough to take in. Of course, he's a bachelor, so people will talk, but kindness is more important than appearances, don't you think?"
Lore Harnisch stared at me for a moment before recognizing me. "Oh, the dirt farmer's daughter! she exclaimed. "What's that about an unmarried, pregnant girl? You're not pregnant, are you?"
I laughed in her face. "Of course not. But Cathy is."
"Cathy?" she grumbled at me. "I don't know any Cathy. Who is Cathy?"
"The unwed, pregnant girl that Stew here," I explained, pointing to him, "has taken in."
"Had taken in, Lisa, my dear," Stew interrupted with a big grin at me. "Cathy has gone home. That is, she has gone to live with her older brother, about whose existence I was informed just yesterday."
"She has a brother?" Amanda asked, her eyebrows rising almost to the crown of her head. "So what was she doing with you?"
"A very good question," Stew replied. "She avoided turning to her brother because he is the black sheep of the family and she did not wish to be tarred with the same brush." He stretched and almost fell over his feet. "One would think that becoming pregnant at an early age and while still unmarried would have made her reconsider her unwillingness to turn to her brother since he was more than ready to take her in. However, she hoped that her parents and younger brother would, as she put it, 'forgive her for her failings' someday and didn't wish to offend them further by taking up with Lawrence, the outcaste eldest, thereby putting her re-admission into the ranks of family members in good standing at risk."
I couldn't help thinking how pompous Stew was, and I wondered if Amanda still found him interesting and appealing as she had seemed to at the hospital. I hoped not. He had just incited her mother against her, and that was not something that showed any sensitivity or kindness on his part.
"So what did elder brother Lawrence do to get himself kicked out of the tribe?" Amanda inquired.
Stew smiled. "He left his parentally-approved bride-to-be at the altar and ran off with his best friend from high school. His best boyfriend. They've been together twelve years and even put each other through college. Now the boyfriend is in law school while Lawrence does lab work to support them. When boyfriend finishes law school and gets a paying job, Lawrence wants to go to medical school. Quite a successful arrangement, it seems, but not at all conventional or designed to please the family. No indeed. But it's nice of them to take the girl in. Very nice, in fact, though she's not the least bit appreciative."
I looked over at Lore Harnisch who was pulling herself up to her full height to begin her peroration, which I'd heard before, on abominations and the fires of hell. I looked over at Amanda who smiled at me.
"I think it's time to take some trays of food out into the living room, don't you, Diana?" she called out. Diana, unsmiling, pushed her way past me and Stew into the kitchen and picked up a tray of cheese and crackers. Amanda grabbed one of cold cuts and hoisted it over her shoulder with one hand. As she walked past me, she reached out with the other and squeezed my shoulder. "Thank you, dear," she said. "You got her off my back and onto his. A fate he richly deserves."
I looked up to see that Diana had turned back to face us. She had the most peculiar expression on her face, a look of disgust directed at Amanda that seemed to include me as well. It surprised me and I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she was on her way into the living room with her food tray before I got a chance. I followed Amanda and Diana out of the kitchen, leaving Stew to listen while Lore Harnisch berated him soundly for allowing a poor, fallen lamb to fall into the hands (or was it hooves?) of Satan. Amanda was right. It was what he richly deserved.
It was time to find Andy, I decided, feeling that I'd left him on his own long enough. I wandered into the living room in the wake of the food trays, but he wasn't there. So I walked towards the back of the house and found him talking with Jason, of all people. Since I'd not yet said hello to Jason, I trotted up to them.
Andy put his arm around me as soon as I was within reach. Jason stiffened and what had seemed like an amicable conversation took on the tone of a contest as Jason began extolling the advantages of his education at the University of Michigan at the expense of our state university where Andy was enrolled part-time. Andy gamely defended his alma mater though without Jason's wild enthusiasm. I wondered what was going on. Why had the tone shifted so suddenly? Then I realized it was my appearance and Andy's reaction. Jason felt threatened by Andy's interest in me. I shook my head, at which Andy gave me a quizzical look. Jason was too busy holding forth to notice. I smiled at Andy and shook myself loose from his arm. "Keep talking, guys!" I said and left them to their argument, hoping that with my disappearance it would turn back into a conversation.
I found myself humming under my breath. Very interesting that Jason wasn't happy about me and Andy despite his having dumped me. I knew I'd never figure it out, so I didn't try. Instead I went back in the direction of the living room to find Diana.
I didn't find her. Instead Jason's grandmother found me and pulled me into the room where I'd left my sketchbook.
"Come here, girl!" she ordered me and grabbed me by the arm. She was surprisingly strong, and I was too surprised to resist.
"I want to talk to you," she hissed. She pulled the door closed behind us and leaned against it. "I'm impressed," she said in a more normal tone of voice. "You managed to deflect my comments from that Chinese girl to the man. That was very adroit, though why you're so eager to protect her I don't know." She walked right over to where I'd left my sketchbook and pulled it out. "I do know you've got the wrong idea about her and these pictures of yours. She's just going to use you, girl, so don't get taken in. You may think you'll get something out of having your pictures in her kiddies book, but no decent parent will buy her scribbling anyway. And even if she makes a little money, you won't see any of it. Just mark my words. She's a user. She's using Jason and she'll use you." She ended her remarks with a brisk nod of the head.
I took my sketchbook out of her hand. "Please don't touch those drawings," I said calmly.
"Don't worry," she replied. "I won't do anything to your drawings. I like them. They're much better than that junk Amanda draws. You have a talent, girl, and you should exploit it. Maybe go into advertising."
"Thanks so much for the advice," I replied sarcastically.
"Polite too! Well, I told Jason he'd made a mistake dumping you for her. But you weren't polite enough to answer my question."
"What question?"
"Why are you so bent on protecting that Chinese girl? She's not your kin. She's not even your kind, unless there's something about Ralph and Ruthie I don't know."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied.
"Don't think you can fool me. I was telling the truth about her and you distracted me back there in the kitchen with your talk about that poor, fallen child and her pervert brother. I want to know why."
"It had nothing to do with you. I just thought Stew deserved a taste of his own medicine for egging you on," I said honestly.
She laughed. "Well, Amanda isn't so hot on him anymore, which is a good thing. He's peculiar."
"If I was protecting anyone, it was Amanda. I don't know why you seem to think it's your job to make her life miserable, but you certainly are good at it."
She snorted and then laughed even harder. "You don't understand Amanda or Jason. They're just like my late husband. If you don't light a fire under them, they vegetate."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing.
"My husband was Mr. Goody Two Shoes. He'd have loved that Chinese girl and not seen her for the ambitious hussy she is. 'We're all the same under the skin', he used to say. That's just b.s. You can't tell what a person is thinking unless they're like you, and those Asians and Africans and Jews and Unitarians, they're not like us! They're a danger to everything we value."
"Unitarians?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yup, they pretend to be good Christian people, but they're heathens like all the rest." She kept nodding so vigorously that I was afraid she might pull a muscle in her neck.
"You can't trust hardly anyone these days," she continued. "No one is the way they seem to be. You remember that and you'll be okay. You're tougher than I gave you credit for. You're a lot more like me than I thought."
I coughed to suppress the words, "God forbid!". "Thank you. I think," I managed to murmur.
"Don't act like I just insulted you," she barked. "You need to be tough to survive. I'm a survivor. Edgar wasn't. His sweetness killed him. That's not going to happen to me."
"Not a chance," I agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find Diana to discuss my sketches."
She shook her head and frowned at me. "Go ahead. Be stubborn and stupid. But don't say I didn't warn you!"