Page 69 of Why Cheese?
A woman hustles across the street without looking once. She waves a hand, flashing a forearm’s worth of bangles at me. With curled gray hair pinned back under a bandanna and dressed in a peasant skirt and blouse, she’s the kind of woman my mother would accuse of being a witch.
“Yes?” I ask, nervous that she’ll want to balance my crystals or read my chakras. In college, another student offered to give me a tarot reading for fun. When my mother found out, she forbade me from ever going into that building.
Slightly huffing, she pauses just under the streetlamp as the light kicks on. She smiles, shifting the wrinkles on her face. “I’m Alva. I own the store just over there. It’s a soap shop if you’re ever in need of goat’s milk soaps that’ll soften your skin to butter.”
“Ah. Thank you. I’m not really looking now, but perhaps later.” The lasagna’s getting hotter by the second in my hands. “I’m Violette, by the way. If you care.”
“It’s nice to see the cheese shop back in business. There’s been flocks of people trailing in and out of your door all day. Did you buy it?” Alva stares me up and down as if she’s either trying to guess my age or net worth.
My cheeks burn almost as badly as my palm. “No. I inherited it from my great uncle.”
“Poor Mateo,” she says and places a hand on her heart.
“You knew him?”
“Of course. We have a coalition on this street. You should join. Let me just see…” Alva dives into her purse that stretches to her knees. I expect her to pull out a floor lamp, but she places a brochure in my hand instead. Or tries to, anyway. Alva settles on leaving it on top of the tin foil. “He was a good man.”
I smile with a pang in my heart. Instead of it getting easier, it hurts to think about how much time I lost with my only good relative. I’ll never get it back. Bowing my head, I try to slip inside without opening the door too wide.
“And I don’t give any truck to those old rumors.”
My hand smacks into the glass and I peer back at her. “Rumors?”
She teases her curls below her bandana without care, almost like I’m not even standing there. Then she jerks and shrugs. “Silly things. You know how mongers love to gossip. They’d claim to see Mateo late at night with four strange men in his shop. And sometimes, they were even nude.”
Oh no.I gulp and stare around the block. I hadn’t given any thought to those other windows across and down the street.Are they all watching? Did they see me with four naked men too?
“Really?” I choke out, failing to keep my voice level.
“Don’t concern yourself about it, Dearie. These are old rumors from decades back. Your uncle was an upstanding man and not some…deviant.”
Thatword. My hair stands on end.Deviant.My mother uses it a lot too, usually about people who didn’t do a thing to her. “Well, I need to get inside. Clean up. Close up. Usual shop things.” I duck in through the door and pull it closed behind me. Before it shuts, I call out, “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“You as well—” Alva’s voice muffles, so she shouts even louder. “—Dearie! And if you need any soaps, don’t forget to stop by Alva’s Suds for a good cleaning.”
“I will,” I assure her, giving a little wave. With her good deed done, Alva tugs her purse and barrels back across the street without a thought to traffic. Standing just under the banners advertising half off cheddar, I peer around the block wondering how many people are watching me right now. How many have seen me, the filthy girl that’s been with three of the four…?
“Sonofa! Owe, owe, owe!” I run while juggling the lasagna and drop it on the counter. Hissing, I shake my red palm to try to find some relief. My whimpering and meager cursing are interrupted by the whine of a trap door flying up.
“Hi, Vi!” Cheddy shouts. He’s first up the ladder, and first to wrap his arms around me. For a brief second, I’m his whole world. He bends down to kiss me, then he catches the mystery casserole. “What’s that?”
“Your dinner,” I tease.
“My blushing beauty,” Cam greets me before he offers a hand to Brie.
“Guys, look, dinner!” Cheddy hoists the dish above his head like it’s the one, true king. Then he tears off the foil and cries even louder, “Lasagna!”
“Eggplant lasagna,” I tell Brie who smiles with gratitude.
“Well, divvy it up, my man,” Cam says to Cheddy. He catches my eye and gives a wink before he glances at Brie.
I catch on as Brie starts to nervously fidget with something in the pocket of his apron. Then it hits me that they’re all not only dressed but wearing aprons.
“Um, Violette?” Brie begins before he drops his gaze to the floor. His lips move, but I can’t make out a word he says.
“My god, man, slow down before you drown in lasagna,” Cam commands. He wrenches the entire dish away from the famished Cheddy.
Leaving the two of them to figure it out, I slide in next to Brie. “Is that one of your paintings?” I ask, spotting the familiar rectangle outline in his apron pocket.
