Chapter 7

Posted: May 02, 2012 - 06:26:44 pm

Updated: December 19, 2021 - 08:59:27 am

Ling woke up, immediately aware that every part of her body hurt.

She started going through the mental inventory of body parts. Ribs? It hurt to breathe, so she had a couple of cracked ribs. She gingerly moved her arms, legs, fingers, and toes. She was relieved to discover that there weren’t any casts. There weren’t any broken bones. She tried to locate a muscle that wasn’t screaming out in pain and failed, miserably.

She knew it was going to hurt to get up and try to move around. She would have bruises that would look horrible for the next couple of weeks. It would be a good time to stay indoors as much as possible. She figured it would be a good time for her to give a public talk at a charity event for abused women, but she didn’t think her husbands would appreciate the message it would send.

Ling opened her one good eye and looked at the figure seated in a chair by the side of the bed. It wasn’t Gary or Stacy or Betsy. No uniform, so it couldn’t be a nurse. She focused and recognized the woman as Betsy’s housekeeper.

“How do I look?”

“Bad enough to give nightmares to women who work at department store cosmetic counters,” Alice answered.

Ling started to chuckle, but the pain stopped her. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Then quit asking stupid questions,” Alice replied with a smile.

“It wasn’t a stupid question,” Ling muttered.

“How did you expect to look after having a knock down drag out fight that lasted for more than thirty minutes with one of the toughest fighters in the world?”

“Okay, it was a stupid question,” Ling admitted.

“I remember when my husband and my oldest boy got into their big fight. My son came in with a black eye, a bloody nose, bruises on half of his body, and limping like his left leg was four inches shorter than the other. My husband wasn’t in any better shape. The first words my husband said to me, was that his little boy wasn’t a little boy anymore. I knew that admitting that, hurt him more than his injuries from the fight,” Alice said.

“I know how he felt,” Ling said softly.

Alice said, “I told him, just look at what a fine young man he has become. You’ve been a good father. He does you proud. And I’ll say to you that Betsy is a fine young woman.”

A tear came to Ling’s eye. In a voice that was almost too quiet to hear, she said, “Thank you.”

“I’ll let you rest. You need to get some sleep so that you can heal,” Alice said.

Ling didn’t answer. She had already fallen asleep. Alice adjusted the sheet around Ling before tip-toeing out of the room. She paused at the door and looked at the sleeping woman. She remembered back to the times when she had done the same for her husband, a warrior returning from war. He had been recovering from wounds received in battle, and was striving to regain the strength necessary to go forth and do battle again.

She looked over at Gary and asked, “How’s Betsy?”

“She was in pain, but she’s sleeping now,” Gary answered.

“I think the tea party ended poorly, but was a success, all in all,” Alice said.

She felt that Betsy had managed to present some aspects of herself to Bess that might allow the other woman to accept her better. Inviting her over for tea was much better than wine and cheese or even the more mainstream ‘American coffee break.’

Gary said, “I’ll sit and watch Ling, now.”

Ling returned to Arizona the next day, after a tear-filled parting (all of the tears being shed by Ling). A very sleepy and groggy Betsy was barely aware that Ling was leaving. Ling walked out of the house with a limp, holding her ribs. She moaned with nearly every step, like a very old woman.

It was three days after the great fight before Betsy awoke fully, for the first time. She bounced out of bed full of energy. In a manner reminiscent of John Carter, her bruises were barely visible, and all of the cuts had healed.

She walked into the kitchen, surprising Alice with the announcement, “I’m starving.”

“You’re up.”

“Yes, and I’m very hungry,” Betsy said.

“I’m making breakfast,” Alice said pointing to the griddle where a half dozen pancakes were in the process of cooking.

Betsy said, “I’m very, very hungry.”

“You keep saying that,” Alice said wondering if Betsy was feeling okay.

“It’s just that I don’t remember ever feeling this hungry before,” Betsy said.

“I’m not surprised that you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten anything for three days,” Alice said.

She used a spatula to pile the pancakes on a plate. She turned back to make another batch of pancakes. She poured out another half dozen pancakes on the griddle. She put the pitcher of pancake batter back on the counter. She went to put the plate with pancakes into the warm oven to keep them hot and discovered that that the plate was empty. She looked at Betsy who was staring at the griddle while bouncing up and down on her toes.

“Did you eat all of those pancakes?”

“Uh ... Yeah.”

Betsy knew that at her parent’s house Marguerite would have tried to hit her hand with the spatula when she reached for food like that. Even though Marguerite had never successfully touched Betsy’s hand with the spatula, the threat still tended to keep Betsy from reaching for things. Alice hadn’t yet learned that trick.

“You must have inhaled them,” Alice said noticing that Betsy’s bouncing had sped up a little.

“I’m still hungry,” Betsy said.

Alice flipped the pancakes to cook on the other side. These were the large eight inch diameter pancakes. She figured the first six should hold Betsy until breakfast was ready.

Alice said, “You can wait in the dining room. Breakfast will be ready in a little bit.”

“All right,” Betsy said.

Alice piled the pancakes on the plate. She reached for the pitcher of pancake batter and glanced at the plate. Half of the pancakes were gone. She turned in time to see Betsy wolf down another pancake. It just disappeared into her mouth. Betsy’s hand flew out and grabbed another pancake.

“You’ve eaten eleven pancakes,” Alice said just in time to see the twelfth pancake disappear from the plate.

“I’m hungry,” Betsy said just before stuffing the twelfth pancake in her mouth.

Alice asked, “Can’t you wait for me to finish cooking breakfast for everyone?”

Betsy frowned and then answered, “No. I’m very hungry.”

“You’ll get sick wolfing your food down like that,” Alice said.

“I don’t think so,” Betsy said. She patted her abdomen and said, “My stomach feels empty, already.”

By the time Betsy finally announced that she was no longer hungry, the entire staff had watched her consume an inhuman quantity of food. It was almost like watching a hotdog eating contest.

Patting her stomach, Betsy said, “I really needed that. Well, I’m going swimming.”

Everyone watched her head out the door. She ran off without a single glance back. There was stunned silence in the kitchen.

Finally, Gary announced, “I guess Betsy is feeling okay, now.”

“It looks that way,” Stacy said.

Sam, in the same tone of voice that Betsy had used, said, “I’m hungry.”

Everyone laughed.

Alice said, “I’m out of food.”

The laughter died.

Wheels said, “You’re kidding.”

“No. You’re going to have to go to a restaurant and eat breakfast today,” Alice said.

Outside, Betsy had slowed down long enough to look at the devastation the fight had done to the backyard. Sam had spent the time since the fight clearing out most of the debris. The tree that had been broken, the leaning shed, and the bent wrought iron table were the most visible signs of damage that remained. It wasn’t obvious that the backyard had once hosted a very lush garden. It was now barren.

“Wow,” Betsy said before continuing her run to the beach.

Betsy ran into Bess on the beach. Embarrassed about the fight, Betsy went over to Bess to apologize. Bess watched the young woman approach unable to believe that she was able to move much less run.

Bouncing on her toes, Betsy said, “I want to apologize for having ruined our tea. I was having such a good time until my mother came along and ruined it.”

“I was watching a comedy movie last night. It had two men digging a hole. One man would dig out a shovelful of dirt and throw it to his right. The other man would dig out a shovelful of dirt and throw it to his left. Each man was filling in the hole being dug by the other.”

“That’s funny,” Betsy said.

It got me to thinking about you and your need to always be moving in some fashion. I think I have an idea,” Bess said.

“What?” Betsy asked.

“Do you think if you were to sit on the beach that you could dig a hole with your left hand and throw the dirt to the right while digging a hole with your right hand while throwing the dirt to your left?”

Betsy said, “I could try.”

She sat down on the beach and started digging.

Bess sat down across from her. She said, “That’s a whole lot better.”

“That’s kind of like riding the stationary bike, isn’t it? It keeps me moving with really moving around that much.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bess said.

Betsy said, “I wonder why no one ever suggested this before.”

Bess said, “I want to talk with you a little, about your afternoon tea.”

“You had miserable time,” Betsy said.

“Actually, I dreaded coming over to your house. I was afraid that you’d meet me at the door, naked, and there would be naked people walking around smoking strange cigarettes or having sex with each other. I was surprised and pleased to see that you were dressed in a very nice outfit...”

“It got destroyed,” Betsy said. “And I really liked it.”

“That’s a shame it was ruined,” Bess said. “I didn’t expect a young woman your age to know the first thing about having an afternoon tea. The tea was one of the best I’ve ever had, and the finger sandwiches were delicious. To learn that you and your mother, Ling, would have formal Victorian style teas absolutely shocked me.

“Years ago, I visited London when my husband had a business trip there. One day while he was stuck in a meeting I had afternoon tea complete with scones and jam. I had to dress nicely. I even had to wear white gloves. I really enjoyed that day. I felt like I was a character in Agatha Christie novel. I had forgotten that until you started telling me your story.”

“Maybe one day we can go there and do that,” Betsy said.

Bess said, “I’ll admit that I was a little shocked when you talked about fighting two Chinese gangs. Ladies, particularly ladies of breeding, do not fight Chinese gangs. It was so contradictory with you sitting there having tea.

“Then I watched you and your mother fight. Now, I will say that I abhor violence, but what you and your mother were doing was amazing. I will admit that I was a little upset when I left your house, but more than that - I was confused. I didn’t know what to make of you.”