Some People

Illustration by Laurie Lail

By Laurie Lail

"Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds."

                                                                                            George Eliot

Karen pushed a small cart into Everything Flowers and let the myriad of colors and smells wash over her. The air in the shop was warm and most, and it reminded her of the flower markets of Bangladesh. She would go with her mother before weddings or festivals and they would leave with armloads of beautiful blooms. Karen walked toward a bright blue table loaded with potted begonias and thought she might like a pink one for the empty pot outside of her office. As she lifted a begonia, she felt someone touch her arm, and she turned to find a petite woman with green eyes and a short blonde bob smiling up at her and holding two smallish round vases, and there was something vaguely familiar about her.

The woman said, “Excuse me. Aren’t you a member of The Women’s Betterment League? You were at the last meeting, right? I liked your idea of renaming it. It does sound like we ought to be in hoop-skirts on the plantation or something.”
“Yes, I joined the league last week,” Karen said. “I’m new to Charlotte and wanted to feel like a part of the community.”

“I knew it was you, but we haven’t really met. I’m Faith Goodall. You may have heard a little gossip about me, no telling what.”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t been to very many meetings. I’m just getting to know everyone. I’m Karen Bandyopadahyay.”

“Say it again.”

Karen laughed. “Ban-di-o-pa-da-yay, it’s Bangladeshi.”

Faith set the vases on the table of begonias and kept her smile. “Ban-di-o-pa-da-yay?”

Karen smiled and nodded.

Faith said, “I may have to practice saying it a few times. My mind is not as quick as it once was.”

“My husband teaches high school. He lets his students call him Mr. Bandy, and please, you may call me Karen.”

“Call me Faith.” Faith held out her hand to shake and said,  “Your last name is beautiful sounding.”

Karen shook her hand. “Yeah it’s a cool name, but I married into it. It means teacher of karma.”

Faith smiled very broadly and said, “It’s going to be wonderful to have a teacher of karma around.”

“Again, I married into it, and it’s only a name.”

Faith looked around as though surveying a mountain view and asked, “Well Mrs. Bandyo-pa-da-yay. What do you think of this flower shop? Is this your first time here?” 

“Yes it is, and it’s amazing. This is a wonderful old house.”

“It’s Victorian, built in 1874.”

“Wow, you’ve done your research.”

Faith giggled and turned back towards Karen. “Not really, it says so on a plaque in the daffodils out front, but it is a great house for a flower shop. Watcha’ looking for?”

Karen placed the begonia in her cart and said, “I want some house plants for my office, as well a few things for the entrance, and few flowers for the dinner table to celebrate unpacking the last box; finally we’re all moved in.”

“Congratulations. What sort of work do you do?”

“I’m a therapist.”

Faith popped her hands on her hips and gave Karen a surprised look of delight. “Well, wonderful. I may need your services one day.”

“What do you do?”

Faith sighed and shrugged. “I’m a long time housewife. We’re a dying breed.”

Faith ran her hand along the bright blue table. “Isn’t it beautiful how they’ve painted all these tables in rich colors? I love it in here. It’s like a vacation. I’d love these colors in my house, but old southern lady’s are supposed to be traditionally conservative in their taste.”

“I don’t see why. I have many of these colors in my home, and if you like them, you should have them.”

“My neighbors would think I’m trying to be a young millennial or something.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying? ‘It isn’t any of your business what others think about you?”

Faith lost her smile for a moment and said, “That’s true, just not easy.”

Faith suddenly straightened and waved vigorously at a woman descending the stairs into the lobby. “Look, there’s Diane Langton. Oh, she’s pointing at her watch; that means she’s in a hurry.”

Karen watched the woman scoot out the door and vanish down the front steps, and said, “I don’t think I’ve met her.”

 “You will. She’s in the league. She types the cookbook and works directly with the printers. That’s probably why she couldn’t meet me for coffee yesterday morning. We’re old friends. We always meet early Sunday mornings before church for coffee, but she sent an email Saturday night saying she swamped and couldn’t make it.”

Faith folder her arms tightly with her shoulders raised like an uncomfortable child as she looked towards the front door and said, “Diane didn’t didn’t say what all she had to do, but I bet it’s something to do with the cookbook.”

Faith seemed to shake herself from a deep thought; she smiled, clasped her hands and said, “Let’s see Karen, the house plants are over there, and all the cut flowers are in the big buckets back here, and as you can see there are rows and rows of them. In the refrigerators on the back wall you’ll find roses and the more delicate stems. The doorway by the counter leads to the accessories. Let me set these vases at the counter; they’re for a couple of smaller arrangements.”

Karen watched Faith step towards the counter. The young woman at the counter looked at Faith as though she’d been caught at something and said, “Hi Mrs. Goodall. How are you doing?”

“Hi Olivia, I’m doing just great. Can I leave these vases here?”

Olivia looked at the vases then back at Faith but said nothing. Faith, put her hand on the counter and said, “Olivia, are you alright?’

“Yes. Sorry Mrs. Goodall. I didn’t know if I’d see you today.”

“It’s Monday. That’s my day to get my arrangements.” Faith turned to Karen, “Karen, this lovely young lady is Olivia; she’s one of the girls that work here. I’m sorry, Karen, you’ll have to help me with your last name until I get it.”

Karen stepped closer to the counter. “Hi Olivia, its Bandyopadahyay, just call me Karen.”

Olivia nodded, and Faith stepped back over to the potted plants. She motioned for Karen to join her and said, “As you can see, Karen, I’m a regular. I absolutely love it in here. Flowers are heaven to me. My sister is coming up from Pinehurst this afternoon to check up on me; she worries. Big sisters are like that. She loves flowers too, poppies are her favorite, and I want to put some for her in the guest room. Do you see any?”

Karen nodded her head. “Look, half way down the third row, orange ones.”

“Wonderful, I always let them do the arrangement for the foyer and of course the one for the dining room. They do a great job here, but I like to pick out the bedroom arrangements myself. Flowers are one of the few things my husband notices.”

Karen smiled. “What does your husband do?”

“Brock? He’s in upper management for a big drug company, very business minded, not much affected by his surroundings or anything else really. I could redo our entire home in fluorescent colors with black lights, die my hair purple, and put goats in the front yard, and he probably wouldn’t notice, but he does sometimes comment on my flowers. A few weeks ago he took a vase of tuberose for his office.”

Karen noticed Faith wipe away beads of sweat from her brow before she said, “He’s been working so much. I guess he needed something to lift his spirits. Of course this week he’s away; he showed up the other day with his lawyer, they’re old friends. They decided to take off to play golf on Jackal Island. Brock said he needed the break.”

“Which drug company does your husband work for?”

“Catawba Research, Brock Goodall, maybe you’ve heard of him.”

“No.”

“I can’t believe no one’s mentioned my husband or our recent problem with our club.”

“Problem? No, no one’s mentioned anything.”

“It’s nothing really, just an over imaginative single mother named Becka. She and her teenage daughter work at our country club. It’s not surprising Becka’s so wound up. I mean just hoping to do a good job of bringing up a child all alone in this world is enough to make anybody a mess. Becka practically lives at the club. It doesn’t leave much time for her daughter, Kayla. That’s why my husband felt so sorry for the girl.”

“Sorry for her?”

“The girl’s painfully shy. I could never get her to say much. I thought maybe something was wrong with her, you know, mentally. Brock said, ‘Faith, I know the girl seems afraid of her own shadow, but she has potential. Kayla, that’s the girl’s name, she likes to draw, and Brock encouraged her. That’s all it was; the child needed direction.”

Faith was pulling at the neck of her sweater and seemed agitated. Karen began to feel awkward, but wanted to be kind, and she said, “Encouragement is good.”

“I know. Brock would always ask to see her drawings, and Kayla would giggle with every encouraging comment he made. It thrilled her. She needed the attention. That’s all, but he needs to learn he can’t take on the world.”

Karen imagined Faith and her husband had fought about the girl and wanted to change the conversation. “That doesn’t sound so troubling. Let’s look at the poppies.”

Faith stood frozen, looking ahead at nothing in particular and said, “He just wanted to help.” Faith met Karen’s eyes, and Karen noticed her eyebrows were pinched.

Faith looked away and said, “Anyway, it’s the mother who’s causing trouble. The mother, she called me yesterday asking for my help. I don’t know what she expects me to do?" Faith met Karen's eyes. "Isn’t that the way? My husband just wanted to help this girl out, and now her mother is calling the house.” Faith had a smile of fear, as though a magician was going to saw her in half.

Karen took a breath and said, “If she’s having troubles with rent, food, or utility bills, the counselor at the league can make recommendations for assistance and help her out. Right?”

Faith looked away to the geraniums. “Oh, I wish it were that easy. You can’t believe the crazy ranting from that woman. She thinks Brock wants to take off with her daughter because the daughter has convinced herself that Brock is in love with her.” She met Karen’s eyes again, and Karen thought Faith looked as though she might cry. Faith touched a curly leaf of a begonia and said, “Can you believe that? It’s crazy. I don’t what to say to her.”

Karen could only suggest, “Faith, maybe you need to sit down with her and talk this out.”

Faith looked down again and wrapped her arms across her chest. “Becka wants me to talk to the police. She sent them to my house, to question Brock and me, but Brock said not to talk to them. I cannot believe the police wanted to question my husband, and now, he’s gone off to play golf. He just left me with this. Why would he do that?”

Karen felt a rush of shock run through her. This was no misunderstanding. Something is up.

Faith ran her hands through her hair. “Lord, look at me. I’ve let this silly thing get me all upset, and at my age. You must think I’m nuts, but it’s been awful.” She put her hand to her chest and let out a small laugh. “Of course it’s got everyone’s attention, I think, and Becka is paranoid, that’s what Brock says, and that’s all there is to it. I couldn’t imagine raising a child all alone, but single mothers are everywhere. That’s the reason women need to pay attention to the habits of the men they let into their lives. Otherwise, they’re left with an impossible situation. I mean the statistics on the outcome of these children says it all.” Faith released a quick breath and fanned her sweater and said, “Let’s go look at those begonias over there. There so unusual.”

Karen felt the sting of Faith’s comment about single mothers, but she could see Faith was becoming upset and softly and calmly said, “My husband, Manjeet, was reared by a single mother; his father died when he was four. His mother had to make an income that would support them, do all that needed to be done in her home, and then teach her son to be self sufficient at an early age, and worst of all, she had to face down the stereotypes that are not earned by single mothers, but simply placed on them, yet, she did a wonderful job.”

Faith stopped, touched Karen’s shoulder, and said, “Oh, of course, I didn’t mean it like that. Some women are amazing; they have to be. I’m sure your husband’s mother was exceptional, but Becka is not doing so well. That’s why Brock took Kayla to galleries and concerts, to give her some exposure, to help the girl out; it’s like he told the police.”

Karen wanted to change the subject. “Well, I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of it, and everything will settle down.”

 Faith closed her eyes slowly and kept them closed for a moment. Then opened them and said, “I’m making you uncomfortable with my crazy story. I’m sorry. It’s completely pulled me from my composure.”

“Well, it sounds as though it could be upsetting.”

Faith folded her arms again and looked down. In a softer voice she said, “Yes, it is. Someone, a stranger, probably one of Becka’s friends, left a message on my phone saying that Kayla is now pregnant; she’s only fourteen.” She looked at Karen with wide eyes and asked, “Why do they want me to know? Can you imagine?" Faith let her eyes fall on a begonia and said, "Fourteen? How’s a girl supposed to handle something like that at fourteen? I mean, I just don’t what she’s supposed to do.”

Karen went and stood beside her, Faith lifted her head slowly toward Karen. Faith’s eyes seemed blank, and her color wasn’t good.

“Faith, you’re turning a little pale.”

“Oh, I’m okay. I forgot my breakfast. It’ll pass in a minute. I guess all this mess has taken my appetite and my rambling on about it isn’t helping. I’m sorry Karen. Just tell me to hush.”

“Would you like to sit down a minute?”

“Oh I’m alright. Women my age have these moments sometimes. Look at this begonia; look how its furry little leaves curl around like a snail shell. I may have to take it for the screened porch. I have a large iron and marble plant stand on the porch with shelves. I have it right by the settee. I fill it with plants in the spring. It’s after the fourteenth of April, so I guess it’s okay to go ahead and put it out there. That’s the rule around here isn’t it? Wait until after the fourteenth of April, and there should be no frost.”

“I’m not sure.”

Faith looked back at the begonias. “Gardening is so good for us. The smell is the best thing, so fragrant and alive. I think a little time around a bunch of flowers could cure anyone of anything.” Faith looked off in the distance at nothing in particular. She had a strange look of sadness, her eyes blinked slowly and the corners of her mouth dropped.  Her voice was flat and low when she said, “My mother used to take my sister, Hope, and me to visit all kinds of public gardens when we were growing up. She thought that public gardens are a very important part of a community. She believed it gave people a place to rest the mind.” Faith put her hand to her brow, swayed a little, and grabbed the table to steady herself.

Karen wanted to walk Faith outside in the fresh air. “Maybe we should go outside and take in the daffodils.”

Faith finally focused at the rows of buckets stuffed with flowers. “Did your Mama like gardens?”

“My mother grows fruit trees and keeps a sort of formal flower garden, very symmetrical. It was my playground when I was a child.”

“It sounds lovely. It’s what everyone needs, beauty for their minds to wonder through. That’s why I come in this shop. It’s a break from the troubles of the world, like those trips to the gardens with my mama and Hope. Those were simpler times.”

Faith straightened and smiled as if she’d just noticed Karen and said, “It all started to change in the seventies. With that drug experimenting, and those clothes that looked like bohemian clowns, I don’t guess you’re old enough to remember those?”

“Not really. I was born in eighty-five.”

Faith smiled politely as though they'd been having small talk all along. “Well, I went through a big hoop earrings and bell-bottom phase that almost drove my mama nuts. But we knew what to focus on back then until suddenly we didn’t. The next thing you know people started talking about the sexual revolution, marriages started falling apart. And we began looking for dirt in every corner, and taking a serious interest in it. After the Watergate Scandal, we wanted to expose everything. Since then, we had to learn about Kennedy’s affair, and Hoover’s cross dressing, and goings on in the oval office with young interns, Cub Scout leaders, priest, all of it. We had learned to look for it. It’s become more important than the good. We’ve turned to suspicion and filth.”

“Maybe, but I think it’s important to make people accountable for wrong doings.”

“Well of course, but it’s seems that it’s all we think about, and we over react to everything. It’s just pitiful how some people’s minds are always thinking the worst.” Faith had clutched the neck of her sweater, then let go and pulled and smoothed her sweater as she smiled and said, “Let’s look at the stems. I can smell the lilies from here, and the tuberose; they have always been my favorite. Brock brought me tuberose after our first son was born. If I put them on my bedside table, the smell fills my whole room.”

Part of Karen wanted an excuse not to follow Faith as she headed for the rows of flower buckets, but Faith seemed as though she was lost, alone in her turmoil, and so a bigger part of Karen wanted to guard her.

Faith stopped at the tuberose. “Look at them, so delicate and innocent and sweet. My mother always said, ‘If a friend is feeling low for any reason, take them a bunch of tuberose and the cheery smell will lift their spirits, and the gesture shows you care.’ My mother was big on social graces. Of course manners and appearances don’t seem important anymore. People just say whatever comes to mind no matter how crazy or inappropriate. Look at all those reality shows. People love them because they show any kind of madness that goes on in life, but I feel embarrassed for the people on those shows. I really do.”

“I don’t watch reality T.V.”

“Good for you. Nobody should watch those shows. I can’t believe the things they’ll do for the whole world to see. My husband and I have been married for twenty-four years and I promise you we’d never behave the way some of these people do, cussing at each other and fighting the way they do.”

Faith looked up from the tuberose and said, “I’m sorry. My mind seems to be scooting around the most ridiculous subjects today. Oh, let’s look at the poppies.”

Karen watched Faith stop in front of a bucket of vibrant orange poppies with anthers that looked like a black anemone. Faith looked down at the bucket as though the flowers had said something profound and a small squeak of pain passed her lips.

Karen let go of her cart and stepped beside her. Faith stood frozen, her arms drooped by her side, her cheeks had lost their color again, and her shoulders slumped. She looked exhausted, beaten.

Karen touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“No, Karen. I’m truly sorry we’ve met under these circumstances, but I am completely out of sorts, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve been a good wife. I have always tried to keep my spirits up. If anything bothered me, my husband seldom knew it. I insisted on trusting him and being happy. Just act like you’re happy til you are. That’s my motto.”

“Maybe we should sit on the bench over there for a moment. And Faith, you don’t have anything to explain to me.”

“I need to. I need someone to understand. Nobody has said more than a few words to me since this mess with Becka and the police started. Yesterday at church, my circle group hardly made eye contact. And in my Victorian book club, we’re reading some of George Eliot’s work. Right now we’re reading  Adam Bede. Have you read it?”

“It’s been a while.”

“We’re on the chapter where Captain Donnithorne meets up with that young girl, Hetty, in the woods, it’s one of the best parts of the novel, and they just sort of skipped right over it." a tear slid down Faith's cheek and she said, "We hardly discussed the book at all. Everyone had somewhere to be, and we ended early.”

Faith’s eyes welled up and Karen said, “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t tell if I’m losing my mind or if I’m just fed up with this hateful world. After I left the book club, I had to go drop off chili at the church for the Spring Supper fundraiser; we do it the second Sunday in April. I had stopped at the light on Maple and Seventh. I had the front windows cracked to let my car air out from the smell of the chili, and one of those men with signs that stand on the corner was staring at me. So I smiled and nodded, and he comes over and sticks his hands through the crack of my window on the passenger’s side and breaths his cigarette breath into my car to asked me if I could tell him the time. Well, he was holding a cell phone. He knew the time. He was lying to me. I know he was, and I saw myself hit the button to roll his knuckles up in the window.”

“Faith.  You rolled his hands up in the window?”

“I know it sounds extreme, but I mean he had no business holding on to the window glass of woman alone and lying to her. Then the light changed, and I made him run alongside the car for about fifteen feet before I realized what I’d done, and I stopped and opened the window enough to let him go. Then as I’m driving away, he calls me a crazy bitch.”

Tears steamed down Faith’s face. “That’s what people think of me too. I’ve tried to be a good wife, mother, citizen, but now, I’m just a bitch.”

“That’s not true. This will all get worked out.”

Faith began to shake her head and more tears fell.

Karen touched her back. “Faith? You’ve gone pale again. You’re shaking." Faith didn't say anything and Karen asked, "Faith, what’s the matter?”

“The matter is I got a note in the mail and nobody signed it, there’s no return address; they don’t want me to know who they are. It says, ‘I hope your husband gets what he deserves. It said, ‘statutory rape is a heinous crime. Asks your husband why he took the child to the Hampton Inn in Rock Hill.’ Rock Hill, that’s ridiculous. We don’t know a soul in Rock Hill. Why would anyone send such a thing to my house?” Faith stumbled.

Karen reached for her arm. “Faith, you need to sit down.” Karen led her toward a bench at the wall beyond the poppies. “Faith, sit down.”

Faith spoke between desperate gasps for air. “Some people don’t understand, Karen." She gasped. "Brock was trying to help the girl." Gasp. "My husband felt sorry for Kayla, staying at the club so late," gasp, "waiting on her mother, and he started giving her rides home, that’s all. Gasp. "He started picking her up from school sometimes; that’s all." Gasp. "He wanted to help her. He took her the tuberose. I know it." 
Karen told her, "Faith, catch your breath; please."
Faith took a couple of breaths and lifted her tear streaked face and whispered,  "She’d bring him a drawings. Always of hands doing something; hands touching hands, holding hands, hands brushing hair, hands resting on a knee, hands holding blossoms, all those hands.” Faith brought her hands to mouth as though she’d said something she wished she could take back and she began to sob.

Karen motioned for Olivia and said, “Faith, I think you need to take slow calm breaths. Just catch your breath.”

Olivia scurried over.

Faith cupped her hands in her lap. “Brock said, ‘She’s an imaginative girl, Faith. Just stay calm, faith. Don’t talk to anyone, Faith. He’s not here is he? Is he! I know this is all a mistake. I know it. I know it.”

Olivia stood waiting for directions and Karen said, “Can you bring a glass of water?” Olivia darted away.

Faith put her head in her hands and wept as she repeated, “We don’t know a sole in Rock Hill.”

Olivia handed Karen the water, and Karen thanked her.

“Faith, drink this water.”

Faith almost looked like a child as she took the glass of water from Karen.

Faith took a few sips and Karen said, “Just catch your breath and drink some more water.”

Faith took a few more sips and some deep breaths until her color returned. She looked at Karen and said, “How did I wind up to be such a mess?”

Karen could think of nothing to say.

Faith sat the glass on the bench beside her, and said, “Hope says I should think about talking to Becka and then the police. That’s why she’s coming.”

Karen nodded. “Maybe you should cooperate.”

“I might should talk to that girl, and tell her that she’s only a girl, and that’s all she needs to be, but I guess I should have said that a while ago.”

Faith looked at Karen, and Karen saw the pale cold truth wash over Faith as Faith said, “Hope is coming. I need to get ready for Hope.”

Karen patted her back. “Let me get your flower for you. I’ll go pick out some tuberose.”

Faith gave her a small smile. “I don’t want anything delicate and innocent and sweet right now. Just get poppies. That’s what I’ll put in my bedroom.”