Love Me Forever. Muriel Jensen

Closet since the idea was conceived at a Food Bank meeting a month ago. “¡Gracias!”

      The women nodded and responded in Spanish.

      “They are happy to help,” Celia said, “because you have helped me.”

      The women left in a flurry of waves and Spanish exclamations.

      “Hi.” Bobbie hauled the large drum and hoses away from the sink so that Sandy had room to work. She looked into her friend’s face, her sympathetic expression explaining that she’d read Sandy’s morning accurately.

      Sandy fought with the packaging, finally won and put the new faucet aside. “I am so sorry,” Celia said, hanging over her as she cleaned the sink around the mounting.

      “It’s all right, Celia. No harm done.” After putting the faucet assembly in the holes, Sandy crawled under the sink to place washers and nuts on the mounting studs and hand tightened them, then finished the job with the wrench.

      “It always surprises me that you’re so strong.” Bobbie had crouched beside Celia and was watching also. “I can never make a wrench work that well.”

      “There’s a hardware store in my checkered past, remember. I clerked when I was in high school.” Sandy pointed to her tool box on the floor in front of the refrigerator. “There’s another wrench on top. Would you get it for me, please?”

      Bobbie retrieved the tool. “I forgot that. You fixed the john in our dorm room. But, now you’re just showing off. Two wrenches?”

      Sandy took it from her. “One to hold the fitting and the other to turn the nut on the water supply line.” She did as she explained, then told Celia to turn on the cold water, then the hot.

      Bobbie looked doubtful. “You want to get out from under there first?”

      “No. It’ll hold.”

      Celia did as Sandy asked. There were no leaks.

      Sandy crawled out from under the sink and accepted Bobbie’s hand up.

      Celia wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Sandee. You are the best landlady in the world!” She handed her a check. “Here is the rent. Mando says we must pay you more, but we have no—”

      Sandy stopped her. “Celia, we agreed on the rent. It’s fine until Mando gets a promotion or you win the lottery or something.”

      Celia’s eyes teared. “I will come and clean your house.”

      “No, you don’t have to do that. When my mother babysits for me, she can’t sit still, so she does it. You and Mando are fine here, Celia. You can live here at this rent until the girls get hitched.”

      Celia repeated her last word uncertainly. “Hitched?”

      “Casado,” Bobbie provided. “Married.” When Sandy looked at her in surprise, she said, “Crystal taught me. Last art class we drew brides, princesses and warriors.”

      Crystal, Celia’s seven-year-old, was in an art class Bobbie taught at Astor Elementary School. Bobbie had learned about the Morenos’ troubles through Crystal last Christmas and told Nate, who had called the legal office Sandy worked for to see if anything could be done. Since then, they’d all been allied to make life more livable for the family.

      Celia understood her meaning and hugged her again, smiling. “Until the girls are casado, si. But Mando will not let them get casado until they are thirty. You will wait a long time for more rent.”

      “It’s fine, Celia.” Sandy glanced at her watch. “I’ll take the box of clothes home with me, run a few errands and be back to make sure the faucet isn’t leaking.”

      Celia nodded. “Then I will send you home with frijoles refritos and flan.”

      Sandy would have told her she didn’t have to, but Celia’s flan was legendary. And she put chorizo and onion in her beans.

      “That would be wonderful.” Sandy picked up the box and Bobbie came to open the door for her.

      “You just want to say I told you so,” Sandy said under her breath as she passed her.

      “Of course I do.” Bobbie walked around her to the Volkswagen. “Hunter threw the check at you, didn’t he?” she guessed as Sandy beeped the door open.

      “No.” Sandy placed the box on the back seat while Bobbie held the door. “He tore it in two.

      They’d been college roommates at Portland State and since then had supported each other through major life crises. They were dear friends. Bobbie’s tone turned from teasing to gently rebuking. “Sandy, he’s told you before in no uncertain terms that he won’t accept money from you. If you’re ever going to have a permanent relationship with him, you’ll have to pay closer attention to what he wants.”

      “He wants to never get married.”

      “That’s what every man wants. But he cares about you.”

      “Yeah, well, caring isn’t loving. He wants his self-respect. I guess the girls and I rate somewhere behind that.” She closed the door on the Closet’s first official donation. At least that was off to a good start.

      Bobbie patted her shoulder as they walked around to the driver’s side. “You do realize that many men in such a position would be happy to let you solve their financial problems and take care of everything? I think it’s to his credit that he won’t.”

      Sandy gave Bobbie a hug. Despite her own anguish, she noted that her friend looked healthy and happy. After battling cancer, falling in love and relinquishing her dream to study art in Florence, Italy, she appeared remarkably grounded and serene. Her dark hair had even grown sufficiently to now curl around her ears. Sandy was happy she was doing so well. She got back to the subject at hand. “Did you know that Hunter was engaged to the woman who embezzled from him?”

      Bobbie looked surprised. “No, I didn’t. Geez.”

      “Yeah. And he never told me.”

      “Maybe he was embarrassed that someone he loved stole from him.”

      Sandy growled. “Then wouldn’t you want to tell everybody how badly you’d been treated? But not him. He keeps his distance.” Sandy climbed in behind the wheel. “Thanks for the help. And thank you for coming to Celia’s rescue with the Shop-vac.”

      “I was in the backyard and heard her screaming. I ran over to investigate. I couldn’t do the plumbing, but I could get the water up. You know, you’re a pretty handy warrior goddess. Did you tell Hunter you can do plumbing? It might change his mind.”

      “Cute. You can joke about my pain.”

      “What are friends for? If you have more flan than you can eat, call me.”

      Sandy drove home and turned into her driveway lined with yellow and orange nasturtiums. Her small, gray two-bedroom on Fifteenth Street had a beautiful view of the Columbia River from the front and a fenced backyard for the girls. Built in the sixties, it was the only single-level house in a block of two-story Victorians constructed around the turn of the Twentieth Century. With the girls already beginning to stretch their personalities, the house was starting to feel too small. Still, it was affordable and, she reminded herself archly that she had just refinanced it, so she had to be happy with it for now.

      She carried the box up two steps onto the porch formed by a brick wall with built-in flower boxes. In another month, they’d be filled with purple petunias. She put the box down, unlocked the door then hefted the box again and walked into the cool, cozy living room. Her furniture wasn’t new, but after Charlie had left she’d reupholstered it herself, unable to look at the blue-patterned sofa and chairs he’d picked out. She’d repainted the walls pink and chosen a largish lavender-and-white floral pattern for the upholstery. The curtains were lace and the other furniture pieces a motley collection of things from friends—a white spindly bench from her mother, a pair of ginger jar lamps Nate