Page 20 of A Lesson for Laurel

7

MEANS NOTHING

“Laurel,” John Glasgow said when she opened the door to her father’s house on Saturday morning. “I’m so glad you decided to come for a visit. Is everything okay?”

“It’s good,” she said. “Just missed you. It’s been a few months since I’ve been home. I thought it’d be nice to visit and take you and Aunt Helen to lunch. Where is she?”

Her Aunt Helen lived in the apartment upstairs from her father.

Laurel had been a toddler when her mother left and said motherhood wasn’t her thing. Aunt Helen, who had been widowed and said she had no plans of ever getting married again, moved from Texas to Connecticut to help raise her.

Her father had found a two-family home, fixed the apartment upstairs for his sister and Laurel lived downstairs with her father.

It was a good setup and she had what she considered a mother and father in her life, even if her aunt was ten years older than her father and a little on the kooky side. But her aunt was all about Southern charm and style and she’d got that from her,with her own modern spin on it. Because the last thing she was doing was teasing her hair daily as her aunt still did.

“She’s getting her nails done. She’ll be back in less than an hour.” Her father dropped his eyes to her nails. “I see you still do it too.”

“Not like Aunt Helen. Does she have long pointy claws now? I like the natural look,” she said. “They get in the way if they are too long.”

Though she’d had fake ones for years too, she didn’t want to start her job off with them yet. If she thought she’d be chipping and breaking her own nails a lot, then she’d get the fake ones. But a nice gel polish on her natural nails was what she preferred and it was working just fine.

Every two to three weeks she’d get them done again as her little treat.

“I’m sure I’m going to have to listen to all sorts of fashion talk during lunch, aren’t I?”

“You’re used to it, Dad. But we’ve got time. How is work going?”

“The same,” her father said. He was a lineman for a utility company. Or he had been for years when she was younger. Now he was a supervisor. He didn’t do as much hands-on work but still put in plenty of hours.

“When are you going to retire?” she asked. Her father was fifty-five. Her aunt retired five years ago. She’d done administrative work in a school district at a middle school. Got her summers off and knew how to handle a bunch of wiseass kids trying to grow up faster than they should.

“A few more years,” her father said. “I’m young yet. I like what I do. I’d be bored.”

“Go find yourself a woman,” she said.

Her father squinted one eye at her. “You know how that goes.”

She laughed. Her father had dated on and off over the years. Nothing was ever serious enough that someone moved in with them. Most hated her father worked a crazy amount of hours and could be called out at any time. Back in the day, linemen had a reputation for partying and picking up women when they were traveling and out of town.

Her father had said it was true, but nothing he’d ever done. She believed him. But that didn’t mean the women he dated did.

“When you’re not working it might be better,” she said. She turned her head when her aunt walked in. “Hi, Aunt Helen. I was just telling Dad he needed to start thinking about retirement and then maybe he can find a woman.”

Her aunt laughed, her frozen hair moving like a cone on her head. At least she had some of Rose’s bobby pins in, making it somewhat modern.

No, it would never be modern to have your hair teased that high. Not unless it was 1985 again.

“I tell him that all the time,” Aunt Helen said. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Like your aunt is any better,” her father said. “We’ll be single together forever.”

“I had love,” Aunt Helen said. “I’ll never find it again. You didn’t have it, and I did. That’s the difference. I’m not looking for something I already had and can hold onto those memories as is.”

She’d heard it before. Aunt Helen had been so in love and so heartbroken over the sudden death of her husband, a man Laurel had never met and only seen pictures of, that she swore you could only have a love like that once and it wasn’t worth the frustration of trying again.

Laurel wasn’t so sure she believed there was only one person out there for someone, but since she’d had such rotten luck finding just one, she didn’t know what to think.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you two have each other for company,” she said. “Love the color of your nails.”

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