Wendy and Charles took their customary places at either end of the dining table. Andrea and Kristin were seated to the left, and Charlotte and Miss Newman were sitting on the right. Cinnamon had taken up residence under Charlotte's chair, probably expecting to get handouts. Just a nice family dinner with a guest over.
The girls all dug into their food like it was something from a high-class restaurant instead of mac and cheese for the third time this week. It was either mac and cheese or the choice of either bratwurst or fish sticks with a rotating selection of canned vegetables based on what was on sale. She'd feel bad serving this to her guest, except everyone in the neighborhood are similar meals most nights. Sometimes, if it was tight enough, she would send the kids out to gather the wild lettuce that grew in the yard. It required a lot of washing, but it counted as fresh vegetables, and it didn't cost money.
Miss Newman lowered her head and cupped her hands, and Wendy paused in loading up a bite of food from her bowl. The woman had said she had been involved with the church, so it shouldn't have been surprising. Would the older woman think badly of them for not saying grace? No, Wendy never made any sign she was religious, and they weren't. This was their house, and they didn't need to put on false airs for the sake of a religious guest.
Wendy shook her head in disgust at herself. Her mother had always been worried about what people thought and how they presented themselves, and Wendy had hated it. Yet here she was, going through those same motions. Was it the fate of all daughters to become their mothers? She certainly hoped not. Her girls were going to be successful—doctors or lawyers or, in Andrea's case, police officers. Whatever they ended up being, it wouldn't be just housewives or retail clerks. They were too bright for that. Plus, they deserved a better life than what she was able to provide.
She took a sip of her soda and set it down. "So, Miss Newman. You said you're a sociologist?"
Miss Newman took a bite of her food, chewed a second or two, and swallowed before wiping her lips with a paper towel. "Not in any official title. People use lots of different titles for me, some of them honorific, some of them...not...so honorable. My last two official job titles were mayor and preacher."
Charles looked up at her with a surprised look. "Female mayors are rare, and what denomination of church has female preachers?"
Miss Newman did a forced laugh. "I doubt you'll find anyone of my denomination anywhere in Colorado. The town I was mayor of wouldn't even appear on most maps you find. As for my sociology, the concepts I study are best left unsaid. I wouldn't want to start some dinner table fights. Never talk about politics or religion at the dinner table, and the same goes for sociology."
"Well, leaving your politics, religion, and sociology at the door, you still seem to have had a successful life," Wendy observed.
"A successful life, but not because of my careers," Miss Newman replied. "It might sound old-fashioned, but I measure my success by the wellness of my family, and in that, I have been blessed and plan to keep it that way." She took a sip of her soda and gave the drink a dirty look as she took it from her lips. "Sorry, I normally drink tea or water. I'm not used to carbonated beverages."
"I can get you a glass of water if you prefer. We also have Kool-Aid and Tang, " Wendy offered, half-standing up.
Charlotte held up her cup with a grin. "It's fruit punch!"
Miss Newman looked down at Charlotte with an unreadable expression. "I wouldn't want to impose."
Wendy finished getting up. "It's no trouble. I'll get you some water—"
"I think I'll try the Kool-Aid," Miss Newman interrupted. "Fruit punch."
Wendy grabbed a glass and went to the fridge, and poured a glass of the sugary kids' drink. She brought it back to the table and handed it to her guest. Who nodded her thanks in return. She then retook her seat.
Charlotte, having been listened to about the Kool-Aid, became the first of the kids to lose her shyness around a stranger. "Do you like Transformers, Miss Old Lady?"
Wendy about choked on her food at the way her daughter addressed their guest. "I'm very sorry, Miss Newman. Charlotte can be very—"
Miss Newman held up a hand and waved off the apology. "No need to apologize. Children say what they see. I'm certainly not a young woman. My eldest great-grandson is about her age, and he is just as straightforward in saying things as they come to mind." She turned and looked at Charlotte. "And I'll have you know; I consider myself the world's foremost authority on Transformers, among other things, but being an expert in Transformers is certainly something I'm proud of."
"Who's your favorite?" Charlotte asked.
Miss Newman tilted her head to the side. "It is hard to pick just one. It used to be Optimus Prime, but nowadays, I think I like Grimlock best."
Charlotte looked confused. "The T-Rexasaur? Why him?"
"The term is tyrannosaurus rex," Miss Newman corrected. "And the reason is, Optimus Prime is always right, always perfect, and that's great, but Grimlock isn't perfect. Grimlock makes mistakes. Grimlock gets angry. Grimlock does just as much wrong as he does right, but he always tries to do right. I can sympathize with him more. Plus, a dinosaur seems so much cooler to me than a big truck."
Charlotte considered this quietly then gave her honest opinion. "Optimus Prime is my favorite." Short and to the point.
Miss Newman stared for a moment, then smiled. "And who can argue with that?"
Wendy finished a bite of her food and continued. "You seem very well versed about children's cartoons."
Miss Newman finished off her drink and nodded. "Cartoons are important. Society has always related its morals and values through the stories we tell each other and especially the ones we tell our children. There is never just a story, be it nursery rhyme, fairy tale, book, or cartoon. If you want to understand who we are as a people, then watch your kids' cartoons." She gathered up a large forkful of mac and cheese before continuing. "But sociology really shouldn't be discussed at the dinner table."
"I told you Scooby-Doo was a great philosopher," Charles said with a chuckle.
Miss Newman smiled. "Scooby-Doo teaches us to be skeptical, and that hiding behind the mask, monsters are regular people motivated by our worst natures. Scooby-Doo teaches us invaluable lessons that even adults should pay attention to."
"And what do Tom and Jerry teach us, Miss Newman?" Wendy asked as she finished off her food.
Miss Newman got a distasteful look on her face. "Sadly, the gospel according to Tom and Jerry is often all too true. It is one that I have felt in my own life, but not one I think I can say in front of children. I can't say it without saying a profanity, and it needs a profanity to give it justice."
"We want to hear!" Andrea exclaimed. Wendy rolled her eyes. Of course, Andrea did, now that it was mentioned that cussing was needed.
Miss Newman considered Andrea. "I suppose the cleanest way of saying it is that they teach that violence and hatred are often almost impossible to stop. Both Tom and Jerry, at different points, attempt to stop it all, yet the other always instigate it again. There may have been some slight that started it all to begin with. Maybe it was petty, maybe it was legitimate, but the effect keeps going and always escalates far beyond what was originally called for. It makes them crazy, self-destructive, and blind to all the damage they are doing themselves and everything around them. Until they both let that hatred go together, it will never stop, and neither ever lets it go at the same time as the other. Eventually, it gets to a point where someone has to ask how the...how in the world did things ever get this absurdly out of control? It needs profanity to give it justice because it is so profane."
Charles poked at his food. "Now you've made Tom and Jerry depressing."
"And so we don't talk about sociology at the dinner table," Miss Newman said, sounding depressed herself.
Charles pushed his empty bowl away. "That's all the talk of cartoons we should have for the night." The three girls let off a collective aww at this. He looked back at Miss Newman. "Miss Newman, is it too hot in here for you? I noticed that your sweater is on backward, and it wasn't when you came in. We can turn the AC on."
Miss Newman pressed a hand to her sweater. While her hand was pressed there, Wendy noticed the impression of something beneath it. A necklace, perhaps? The woman didn't keep her hand there long, and the impression of the object became obscured again.
"Somewhat," Miss Newman answered. She then stood up. "It has been wonderful getting to talk to you all, but I think I should be going now that it is fully dark. Work never ceases."
Wendy stood up and extended a hand to her neighbor. "We were glad you came. I hope we can have you over again. Remember, the Westoffs will want to invite you to a barbeque soon. You can bet on it. Oh! Will you be handing out candy to trick-or-treaters tomorrow?"
Miss Newman blinked. "I wasn't even aware tomorrow was Halloween. I guess I lost track of time. I tell you, lately, I only vaguely know what year it is. I'll have to get something for the kids."
"If you come by K-Mart, I can get you something with my employee discount," Wendy offered. "Just don't expect me to do it in the future. I'll get in trouble if it becomes a habit. Consider it helping with moving in. We can't do much, but I can do that."
"Thank you for your generosity," Miss Newman said with a fresh smile. "I'll see you about, probably tomorrow. Until then, bless you and have a good night." She briefly paused with a frown. "And if you have any trouble, please, come get me right away, no matter how ridiculous or unbelievable the situation may seem."
They led her out and locked the door behind her. After that, they instructed Andrea and Kristin to take turns taking a shower before bed. Charlotte would have hers in the morning. When they finally had the living room to themselves, Wendy sat down and lit a cigarette.
"Well, she's an odd one," Wendy said as she let off a drag. "How can anyone make cartoons so morbid?"
"She says she's a sociologist," Charles replied. "Old people get a pass for being odd, and she seems like she's good-natured enough."
Wendy took another drag. "Did you notice she never asked any questions about us?"
Charles shook his head. "I didn't, but we didn't volunteer anything either, and we did do a lot of questioning. I find it a little odd she took her clothes off in our bathroom. I noticed her zipper of her blue jeans was down just now, and her shoes were untied. That lady completely stripped and redressed in a hurry while she was in our bathroom. I know she wasn't like that when she walked in."
"Do you think she doesn't have her water running yet and was too proud to ask to use our shower?" Wendy asked.
Charles shrugged. "Don't know. Her hair was dry, but she could have washed everything else. The sink was running from the moment she went in."
"And it was still running until right before she left the bathroom," Wendy said as she finished her cigarette and stamped it out. "Maybe we can ask her about it discreetly."
"It's the neighborly thing to do," Charles replied. He then gave his wife a serious look. "You don't think she's a squatter, do you? She did just kinda appear out of nowhere, and if she has no water…."
"We have no real reason to think so, and she has power over there," Wendy pointed out.
"Guess you're right.," Charles conceded.
After they went to bed that night, two gunshots rang out, and this time, Andrea and Kristin were the ones convinced that there was something moving around outside their window.