Chapter 24 Louise

 

“You’ve done a lot,” Louise said, surveying my living room. My step-daughter looks nothing like her father, who was dark-skinned with a head of black hair, deep brown eyes, and a scholarly demeanor. Louise is lucky to have inherited her mother’s curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and slim build—although she does sport her father’s distinctly Jewish nose. She’s tanned, lightly freckled across the cheeks, and has the hard muscles of someone who does physical work for a living. Today she was dressed in denim shorts and a pink tank top that set off her tan.

“There’s still a lot more I want to do,” I said.

“Like what?”

“For starters, I’d like to paint walls.” They were a sickly shade of off-white, marred with decades-worth of grime and scuffmarks.

“I remember your blood-red walls in New York.”

Louise had such a look of dismay when she saw the way I’d redecorated the apartment she grew up in, erasing all traces of her mother. “At the time it seemed like a good backdrop for my African art and furniture. I gave most of that to a museum before I moved here.”

“The zebra skin rug and the wildebeest chair?”

“Gone. And the masks, textiles, paintings, and carved statues. I’m ready for a fresh start. Something lighter … more tropical.”

“Anything in mind?”

“I’m thinking along the lines of  sea green walls.”

“I like that.”

“I want to start with the bedroom, since that’s where I go to relax.”

“Can I see it?”

I led her down the short hallway.

 She entered the bedroom and nodded with approval. “The furniture fits well in here.”

Louise had taken me shopping for the most essential items to get me started. At Ross’s Furniture For Less I got the full-size bed, dresser, and nightstand for a song and had them delivered the day I moved in.

“The Hawaiian quilt is perfect, ” she added. Her gaze rose, and stopped at the mirror on the ceiling.

“I know,” I said. “It was here when I moved in. This was once a swinging singles complex. None of the previous owners of this unit ever bothered to get rid of the mirror.”

Louise grinned. “Are you thinking of keeping it?”

“Oh, heavens no. I’ll be making arrangements to have it removed.

Finally, Louise pulled her eyes from the ceiling. “I think sea-green walls would be a nice contrast to the red and white quilt. Do you feel like shopping for paint?”

“You mean now?” I’d imagined a leisurely lunch of sandwiches by the pool.

“If you’re up to it. We could hit Home Depot, then grab some lunch to go.”

“I’m game if you’re game. I just need to get ready—”

“You’re fine. This is Hawaii, remember? It’s ‘come as you are’ just about anywhere here.”

We got into Louise’s BMW Z-4. She put the top down and peeled out of the parking lot and into steady traffic.

***

“Lillian.” Louise’s voice penetrated my deep sleep.

“Huh?” I righted my sunglasses and squinted through them into glaring light.

“We’re back at your place.”

“Oh dear. I guess I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure you needed the rest.”

We took our purchases—cans of paint called ‘beach glass,’ rollers, brushes, masking tape, tarps, and lunch from Subway—out of the trunk.

“You need a shopping cart,” Louise said.

“I know. That’s what I keep telling myself.” I unlocked the door.

 “I’ll put this stuff in the bedroom while you set the table for lunch.” Louise turned down the hallway with the paint supplies.

I left our sandwiches and iced teas in the kitchen made a quick trip to the bathroom. A glance in the mirror made me gasp. My eyes were puffy and my windblown hair stood out like a fright wig. I splashed cold water on my face and ran a brush through my hair.

“I’m starving,” Louise said, taking the seat across from me at the dining table and unwrapping her foot-long sub.

I nodded and we concentrated on our food for a while without speaking.

Louise set her sandwich down, took a long drink of iced tea, and let out a satisfied sigh.. “So how is it, living here?”

“Hawai‘i couldn’t be more beautiful. I can see why you love it so much. I’m certainly looking forward to a winter with no snow.”

“It is a special place. But how do you like living at Kon-Tiki Sands?”

“Aside from finding a dead body the first time I went to the pool?” I took another bite of my sandwich to give myself time to formulate an answer. “Life at Kon-Tiki is a world away from life at Stuy Town. In New York I had endless choices of social activities, when I wanted them. But when I felt like being reclusive, which was often, I was free to that as well. In that city of ten million I could go for days without seeing another person if I chose not to. Here, with only twelve residents—well, eleven really, since Pearl died—there’s no option of anonymity. They know each other well, and meddle in each other’s business to no end. Being the new kid on the block, I’m the object of everyone’s constant scrutiny.

“There’s a list of activities for each day of the week posted on the bulletin board, right next to the mailboxes where no one can claim to have missed it. I learned early on that participation is mandatory, at least if one wants to get along here. And most of the activities involve a pot luck. I hadn’t anticipated that Wednesday when we went on our first shopping trip. I keep coming up short where food is concerned.”

“I don’t think they can force to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Force, no. But coercion, most definitely. I’ve tried to show myself friendly. This past week I’ve done everything from aqua jogging, to sitting in on a Christian Bible Study, to playing poker for pills. I want to be accepted by my neighbors, because I have a feeling there’d be hell to pay if they ever decide they don’t want me here.”

The image of Pearl’s dead body flashed in my head. My hand flew to cover my eyes, as if that would block it out.

Before I could consider what it meant, Louise said, “Poker for pills? Seriously?”

I dropped my hand. “Aside from alcohol, substance abuse seems to be the coping method of choice among the residents here.” I chuckled. “You should’ve seen the way they jumped on my prescription stool softeners when I showed up at the poker game. They were high currency. Apparently all those opioids can back up a person’s system.”