Chapter Five

I roll over in bed the next morning, feeling drowsy still and very, very sore. The Pizza the other night had been heavenly, tangy, salty, oily, perfect. The crust was perfection, the sauce was scrumptious, the pineapple had melted in my mouth sending fireworks of flavour dance across my taste buds. Oh yes, I'm practically drooling on my pillow at the memory of the Pizza. I had eaten so much and it was so rich that this morning I felt like I had a pizza-hangover. Though, I don't know how a hangover feels, since I haven't had one, but I'm guessing it feels something like this.

I must have strained my muscles while pushing the car yesterday, because I'm so sore and stiff that if I even move an inch my body aches. My hamstrings are pulled so tight that they might snap. My arms feel like they might not even be there any more. My whole body feels like led in the soft guest bed. My finger is throbbing and my cut is stinging, the skin around my mortal wound is covered in dried up blood, the bed sheet under my hand dotted with red.

Gasping I sit up-- body protesting-- and look down at my finger. It was still painful. I look around frantically for the bandage that I had gone to bed with. Finally I find it under the covers by my knee. What the heck? I remember having a dream last night about a ring on my finger and ripping it off triumphantly in front of somebody I didn't like... or something like that.

“Ha, ha ha,” I start laughing and lay back down, slipping the bandage back on so that it could cover my booboo.

I lay there for awhile wondering if I should get up or if I should just lay here and do nothing. But my ever busy mind does find something to do. So I reach over to where my cellphone lays on the lamp stand and call up Elonzo.

The phone rings in my ear for a few seconds then a groggy voice picks up on the other end.

“Huh?”

“Good morning to you too,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, morning, hon. You do realise it's three over here, right?” Elonzo says sighing and then coughs throatily.

“Oh, god, sorry,” I exclaim, ashamed now that I had woken him up, especially since he has the night shift at McDonald's. “You go back to sleep. Sorry sweety, adios.”

Elonzo chuckles at me, and I can hear him shaking his head by the crackling sound his facial hair makes on the receiver. “Adios, mi salsa dulce,” he replies with a tired sigh and we both wait for the other to hang up first.

“Hello?” I ask uncertainly.

“Gigi, hang up.”

I giggle, “You first.” I know this is so stupid and cheesy. But it was a joke of ours, because we liked to make fun of it, and also neither of us liked hanging up on each other.
He sighs, this time I can hear a hint of amusement in it, “No, you first.”

“No you first.”

“No you first.”

I shake my head, realising that he needs sleep. “No, seriously. You first, you need your sleep.”

Elonzo sighs again, but it's sad and tired again. “I miss you, mi salsa dulce. A lot.”

I play with a strand of my hair, feeling the sinking feeling in my stomach and the ache that starts up in my heart at the thought of not being able to see Elonzo. “I miss you.”

There is a long pause where we both concentrate on the sad, lonely feeling. “Okay, I got to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.

I sigh and fake a smile, though I know he cant see it. “Bye... and loved the CD.”

Elonzo chuckled and I could hear him shaking his head again. “Bye.”

I laugh, realizing that I keep distracting him. “Bye, sleep well.” I hang up, to make it easier for Elonzo. Okay, so maybe my Pizza hang-over is not as bad as I thought, because my belly rumbles.
Body protesting, I swing out of bed consoling my lonely feeling with the thought of all the things I'll be doing this afternoon. I slip on my house coat with “Love and peace” all over it, and step out of my room to the warming and comforting smell of pancakes“Good morning!” I practically crow happily skipping into the kitchen. I take a loud sniff of maple and flour, “What's cookin'?”

Marie smiles from her position at the frying pan. “Pancakes... do you like pancakes? Hue said you did.”

I raise my eyebrows at Hubert's new—shorter than short-- nickname. I turn to look at Huey, who is eating a stack of thick fluffy pancakes, while reading a sports car magazine. I look back at Marie and shrug. “I love pancakes.”

“Good, there is some already made ones in the oven, if your hungry.” Marie turns back to flipping pancakes.

I open the warm oven and grab two golden pancakes with my thumb and middle finger, so as not to hurt my wounded finger and mess up my already loose bandage.

“What's the plan Stan?” I ask my brother, stuffing a bite full of pancake into my mouth. “-lehhin', -keein', hukin'?”

“Huh?” Huey raises his eyebrows.

I chew, swallow and smack my jaws then say again, “Sledding, skiing, hiking?”

“Oh.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “What ever you like. We could go 'lehhin' if you want, there's a nice 'lehhin' place on the west side of the house. Or we could go 'keein' at a professional 'keekin' resort if you like.”

“Ha, ha,” I laugh sarcastically and take another bite of my pancake. I chew and swallow and add, “But seriously, what kind of a ski resort is it?”

“A resort you go skiing at,” Huey says with a huge grin.

I glare at him and turn to grab another pancake from the oven. “Shut up,” I smile and turn to Marie, “What kind of a ski resort is it Marie?”

“It's a luxury resort, but they give free ski's to people who live close by,” Marie says flipping a pancake unto a plate and passing it to me. “Syrups over there Gigi, liebling.”

I pour syrup unto my pancake and make a wild guess about where the silverware drawer is. I open a drawer and find towels. I open another and find the silverware, I close that and open another, then realise that I was looking for silverware originally. I chuckle and pull out a butter knife and fork. “So...” I say just so I can say something. I cut up my pancakes and think of something to say to break the silence that has fallen over this breakfast party of three. Everyone seems content and quiet with what their doing in their own little worlds. Marie is flipping pancakes and pouring more batter on the griddle, Huey is scanning his sports car magazine with great interest, and I'm eating pancakes. Which reminds me that someone is missing. “Where's Maurise?”

“Asleep,” both Marie and Huey say together in uninterested tones. They both smile at the same time. I shake my head at the creepiness of there bond.

“Do all married couples do that?” I ask in amazement and horror.

Huey looks up momentarily from his magazine to frown at me, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do all married couples say things at the same time and... and... I don't know, finish each others sentences?”

Marie giggles, her eyes twinkling in Huey's direction. “Only the couples who are truly and deeply in love.” She winks at me and goes back to making pancakes.

Huey grin is infectious as he stares at his wife, his eyes praising her all. I am touched by this love connection between them. But it makes me feel uncomfortable, I mean, I'm happy for him and I love that he has fallen in love... but their love-fest is sickening.

“Yeaaaah,” I drawl as I smile broadly, my eyes teasing my brother.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his magazine, the smile still on his lips. “Shut up.”

I grin and start stuffing my cut up pancake in my mouth. We sit there for awhile in silence, just eating. Maurise comes into the kitchen in her PJ's, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning.

Marie looks around and smiles, “Gutten Morgen, Maurise.”

She grunts and sits on one of the kitchen stools, “Gutten Morgen.”

I nudge her and smile, “Rise and shine, eggs and wine.”

Huey raises his eyebrows, “'eggs and wine?'”

“Shine, wine, it rhymes, duh,” I say and grin. I kiss Maurise on the forehead and go back to eating my pancakes.

Maurise wipes my kiss off her head and sticks out her tongue, “Ick, your sticky.”

Marie puts a pancake on a plate and hands it to Maurise, “Want some, liebling?”

Talking the plate, Maurise yawns making the sign-language sign for “Thank you” by touching her chin with her hand and making a sort of air-kiss movement with her hand. How do I know this, you might ask? I used to have a deaf friend that lived next to my family. It had been an awesome experience and we had the funniest time trying to make up new words in sign-language. She would make fun of me and tell me “You just said 'my monkey has wings' silly”. Whenever I had gotten something wrong she'd laugh and make monkey movements with her hands and arms, at that point I'd stick out my tongue at her.
The real question is, how does my six year old niece know sign-language?

Apparently I was, like, gaping or something, 'cuz Huey grins and says boastfully, “She learned all her manners from me.”
“Were you with us when we lived next to the Beckwith's?” I ask in surprise, trying to remember my brother. The image of me playing with Natasha (the deaf girl) and barbie dolls then Huey walking in and telling me I had to do something, comes back to my memory. “Yeah,” I say before Huey can answer, “Yeah, now I remember. You used to make fun of Natasha behind her back, then I'd cry and get you in trouble.”

Huey laughs nervously as his wife gives him an icy look of disapproval.

“You made fun of a deaf girl, Hue?” she asks in disgust, shaking her head.

Huey shrugs, smiling despite himself, “It's not like I did it in front of her face.”

Marie shakes her head in disgust and looks over at her daughter, pointing a wooden spatula caked with pancake batter at the small girl with large eyes, “See, this is what we were talking about before you for Florida. There are right and wrong things to do.” She sends a quick angry glare at her husband, “What Daddy did was wrong. What your Aunt Gigi did was right.”

“Honey I-” Huey began to interject in defence.

“No,” Marie says cutting him off and pointing the spatula at him threatening, “Huey, why would you do something like that?”

I sit back and watch as Huey gets off his chair and Marie and Huey both get into an argument about “right and wrong” in angry, complicated German. I'm surprised at how vehement Marie is and how defensive my brother sounds. It's a full fledged fight between the married couple. I raise my eyebrows at Maurise, who is munching on her pancake and watching her parents with worried/ interested eyes.

I lean in and whisper, “Does this happen often?”

Maurise shrugs her small shoulders, “Yeah... Mommy's mad with Daddy a lot of times.”

I nod, but am dumbstruck that Maurise has to witness this argumentative banter between her mother and father. From my knowledge, my parents never fought, and if they did they certainly didn't do it around me. I'm also shocked that they adore each other the way they do. How they kiss, and hug and touch each other all the time. How Huey looks at Marie like she is some kind of goddess, and Marie looks at Huey like he's her whole universe... but still fight with him about something as small as him making fun of Natasha. Okay, so maybe that's not small... but not all that big.

I shake my head at the puzzling adoration’s and complication's of marriage and love. It is too big for me to understand completely without breaking down.

Marie's German words break into English, “-how can Maurise learn how to do the right thing when your always being a-” She breaks back into German, and I'm pretty sure I know what she called my brother.

Maurise widens her eyes and looks like she's about to leave when her face softens with my brothers soft German words. I wonder if Huey has apologised for being stupid.

Marie sighs and takes her hands of her hips and wraps them around Huey's waist. She says something in German, shaking her head, her eyes looking up into my brothers kind eyes.

I stare in amazement as the spitting bull—Marie-- and the Bull fighter-- Huey-- make up quicker than a blink of the eye. One moment she's yelling in German, the other she's kissing my brother and making pancakes again. “What the hell?!” I exclaim incredulously as Huey sits back down to read his magazine.

“Hey missy,” he says sternly, “Watch your tongue around Maurise would you.”

Marie turns towards me with a motherly smile, “Please don't say 'hell' in the house, liebling.”

I gape at her, but the subject is quickly changed as Maurise says innocently and with a huge grin, “Did you see my Nintendo, Daddy? That Grandma and Grandpa gave me?”

Huey sighs with a twitching smile, “Yes you have, three times.”

“It was nice of them to give it to you, wasn't it?” Marie asks sweetly.

Maurise nods and pulls the small video game box out of her pajama pocket. I'm struck by this, wondering if the little girl had slept with it.

Marie nods as she inspects the Nintendo from afar, “Yes, you'll have to send Opa and Oma a thank you note, won't you?”

Maurise nods again and then jumps off her stool and runs off to her bedroom, for no reason that I can think of.

I raise my eyebrows in question.

Marie chuckles, “She has some notepaper that we bought her for, Weihnachten.”

“Uh..” I mutter unsure of how to respond to this, because it all sounds like nonsense.

“Christmas,” Huey tells me, not looking away from his magazine.

“Oh, okay,” I say and eat a few more bites of my cooled pancakes. My stomach starts to get that stuffed feeling. I gobble up the rest so that I don't have to throw anything away and get up to put my plate in the sink.

“Oh, your done?” Marie says, and then plops another pancake on my plate.

I start to say that I'm full, but Marie just shoos me to the syrup telling me that I'm silly and I have to get more meat on my bones.