A Paean to
Stewed Tomatoes
by Bill Tope
"I almost
didn't answer the door," remarked
Wendy, staring out at the figure standing
on
her doorstep. "I almost didn't ring
the bell,"
observed her visitor. "Come on in,"
Wendy
invited, standing aside.
Once ensconced in the living room, the
two
women watched each other carefully, as if
on
guard against some possible mischief.
Finally
Wendy relaxed, said, "How long has
it been,
Paula?"
Paula breathed deeply, let the air out
through
her nose, replied, "Two years, four
months and
eight days." "Very precise,"
said Wendy.
"When someone cuts your heart out,
you become
precise," said Paula. She nervously
twisted the
gloves she held in her hands.
"Are you ever going to get over what
happened,
Paula?" asked Wendy wearily. She
rolled her eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Wendy
Bell," snarled the
other woman. "I spent two weeks in
the hospital
following that last little....escapade!"
"But why do you blame me?"
cried Wendy. "I didn't
make you use those tomatoes that Cheryl
found in the
dumpster." "No, but you put
them there, knowing that
Cheryl--your friend--might find them. And
you
also knew that Cheryl was helping me shop
because
of my broken foot. You know is a regular
Dumpster
Daisy."
Wendy folded her arms across her chest,
tapped her
foot impatiently on the carpeted floor.
"And I suppose
it's also my fault that you decided to
make chili that
very night?" she asked sardonically.
"No, that was Cheryl's idea, too,"
said Paula, almost in
tears. "I don't know what it
is about that woman, but I
just can't seem to resist her. She's
very persuasive,"
she added. Wendy glanced casually
at her wristwatch,
said, "Cheryl is supposed to be over
in just a few
minutes. Maybe you'd better leave, if you
still hold her
responsible for your case of food
poisoning."
Paula looked down. "Perhaps you're
right." She
lifted her bag off the Steinway and
prepared to
depart. Suddenly the doorbell rang
. The two
women exchanged an anxious look and
reluctantly
Wendy pulled the door open.
There, of course, stood Cheryl, a No. 10
can of Del
Monte Stewed Tomatoes clutched in each
fist.
Oblivious to the tension in the air, the
latecomer
pushed a can on each woman and said,
"Had to fight
a tomcat--not yours, Dear--for these
treasures, plus
I got this," and she held out a
frozen turkey and gravy
dinner, vintage 1978.
"Some nitwit unwisely disposed of
this in your
neighbor's dumpster, Wendy. Can you
imagine that?"
She laughed giddily, accidentally dropped
the frozen
dinner on Paula's foot, which fractured
instantly.
"I'm sorry, Paula," murmured
Cheryl. "Is there anything
I can do to help you with your broken
foot?"
"Yes," cried Paula, taking the
stewed tomatoes and the
frozen dinner in hand and leading Cheryl
to the door.
"Dear, you can help me with my
shopping again; I saved
so much money when you helped that time
before..."
"Hadn't you better go to the
hospital first?" inquired
Wendy. "No, that's alright,"
said Paula dismissively. "We
can go the hospital after I make the
chili." She paused for
an instant, then remarked, "I just
love to cook with Del
Monte!" And out the door they
paraded. |
|
