"Over There" by Bill Vernon

I opened the door and the woman from France plopped a leather suitcase down on the threshold.

My mother said, "Stop gawking. Say hello and take her bag."

The lady came inside, said, "Bonjour, Madame," and kissed both of Mom's cheeks, then Dad's. He laughed after the kisses.

"Georgette, me," she said, pointing to her chest.

When the lady stepped my way, I tried lifting the suitcase but couldn't, then hurried out the door. "Hey. She's got a big box out here on the porch."

It was too heavy for me, but Dad managed to carry it into the downstairs bedroom. My mother lugged the suitcase. The lady said, "Merci," sat down on the bed, and crossed her legs.

Which gave me a good look at her toes. She wore shoes without heels or sides and just a strip of leather in front with a hole in the exact center through which three bare toes peeked. The nails were painted bright red.

Mom pantomimed laying her head on the pillow. "Are you tired, honey?"

The lady nodded vigorously. "Okay."

Mom looked at Dad for interpretation.

Dad said, "Maybe she wants the toilet," pronouncing the last word slowly.

The lady smiled."Toilette?"

Mom led her down the hall, saying, "These facilities may surprise her. She probably doesn't have them where she's from."

The lady looked at Mom, said, "Oui, Oui," then hung her butt over the toilet seat.

I said, "She wants to wee wee."

Mom said, "Out the door, you men." Mom closed the door behind the three of us, and we stood in the hallway waiting. After a couple of minutes Mom said, "You think I should've shown her how to use the john?" But several minutes later the toilet flushed, and Mom said, "Sounds like she figured things out."

When the lady came out of the bathroom, Mom took a wash rag and a towel from the hallway closet and made picking and lifting motions. Said, "Take anything you need." Then gave her a bar of Ivory soap still in its paper wrapper.

The lady laughed, pulled Mom by a hand back into her bedroom, opened the box Dad had carried in, and lifted out an oblong green lump, which she held out in front of us.

Dad said, "It's soap."

The lady said, “boo-koo”, then pointed into the box. Bending over it, I saw nothing but soap, powder and liquids. Plus a scent hit my nostrils so sweet my nose clogged. The lady grabbed the washcloth from Mom and dry-scrubbed her arms and neck.

"She wants to take a bath." Mom shooed me and Dad out.

We went to the living room but sat so we could watch down the hallway.

Mom took the lady into the bathroom. We heard water start pouring in the tub. They both came back to the bedroom. A few minutes later the door handle jiggled, followed by a very loud "No." Then Mom ran upstairs to her own bedroom and returned carrying a housecoat.

A minute later Mom took Dad and me to the kitchen. "She didn't have a robe so I gave her mine. Otherwise she would've gone from her room to the bathroom without a stitch on. Well, you know what the French are known for?"

"What?" I asked.

"Never mind," Mom said. "Now tell me this, Pete. If that's all she has, why would she bring along a box of nothing but soap and perfume? It doesn't make sense."

Dad said, "She must like to smell nice."

I said, "Maybe she didn't think we got bath stuff over here like they do over there."

Mom shook her head. "Only God knows what she went through with those Nazis. She was lucky to get out alive."

Turned out the lady was awaiting her American husband's return as soon as his enlistment ended "over there." We learned that from a letter she showed Mom and Dad at dinner. A non-Catholic church in town had sponsored her arrival and found her our room. Mom said that was odd. Coming from over there she must be Catholic so the choice of church probably meant the husband wasn't. Hers was a mixed marriage in more ways than one.

During the meal the woman ate hungrily as if she were starving, but she also picked the food apart with her fork before closing her eyes and shoving in a mouthful. Mom said that, by God, there was nothing wrong with her meatloaf with ketchup and mashed potatoes with gravy. Plus the ears of corn were as fresh as you could get. Despite the woman's obvious hunger, she refused to touch the corn on the cob, which Mom buttered and salted and showed her how to eat.

Dad said, "She's not used to American cooking."

Mom said, "Hah!"

After the meal, Mom took the lady by an elbow, led her to the rocking chair, and lowered the woman's elbow so she dropped onto it. "Sit there and relax, dear. You can go to bed whenever you wish."

Mom looked at us. "They may not have rocking chairs over there either."

Georgette looked like a large blooming flower, her cheeks and lips all red, her hair swept back and anchored with a big red bow. Dad said, "I bet you feel better after a nice hot bath and good meal. You sure do smell good, doesn't she, son?"

"Yeah." I was leering at her. "Real good."

Georgette smiled as if she understood us. Mom did the dishes in the kitchen. Dad was in the easy chair with a newspaper, and I held a wrinkled Superman comic book. I guess the lady was digesting. Me too. My eyelids closed and I was nearly out when, suddenly, she burped. My eyes opened, and I grinned. She burped again and Dad was staring at her over his newspaper. Then she farted. The noise was low and hard to hear, but prolonged and, to be honest, smelly.

She shook her head, rubbed her stomach oddly, and smiled at Dad.

Dad held out a pack of Camels. "Cigarette? Have a smoke?"

So she and Dad smoked, and while a few more burps and farts occurred, the combined smoke from the cigarettes did subdue the bad smell. Unfortunately, Mom joined us, sat by the rocker, and quickly became aware of the lady's problems. Mom was soon smoking herself although she never smoked except alone in her kitchen. She even held an ashtray on her lap and occasionally offered it with a smile to the lady. I knew Mom was upset.

The lady finished her smoke and left the room, bowed to my parents, and said something. As the bedroom door closed, Mom said, "Now we know why she brought so many strong smelling things. To cut the odor. Wasn't that awful? Don't they have any manners over there?"

"I told you it's the food," Dad said. "She's not used to it."

The burps and passed gas occurred after all three suppers she had with us, and perhaps after the other meals too. I wasn't sure because the lady kept to herself from morning to evening. She walked to St. Rose's Church in the mornings, hung around downtown, returned home for lunch, went out again and didn't return until supper. I followed her on her last day at our house. When she caught me lurking behind her and took my hand, I showed her the high school, the swimming pool, and the park with the ball fields and picnic tables.

That evening after she went to bed, I overheard Mom and Dad arguing. Mom finally declared that the lady just was not working out. "But I'll take care of it."

I stayed alert the next day to see what she'd do. On the phone she telephoned someone and explained that an emergency had developed in our family. Apparently, Mom's father was suddenly unable to care for himself and needed to move into our home where we could keep an eye on him. The problem was that the only room we had available was where the refugee was staying. Georgette left that afternoon, taking her bag and box. I came home from a movie and found her room empty, but still smelling good.

That evening, there was a knock at the front door. It was the lady. A man was with her to translate what she said. She was sorry to hear about Mom's father, but here. From the large purse she carried, she extracted three little presents in flowery wrapping paper. She shook our hands and kissed our cheeks and left with the man. He was custodian of a house for women in Zanesville, which was where, he said, we could visit Georgette. Mom wrote down the name, address and phone number as if she might actually use them.

We went out on the porch, said goodbye, waved vigorously, and stayed there until the two drove off in a big green Studebaker.

Mom said, "What on earth did she give us?"

The three of us tore the wrapping off our gifts. I already knew what mine was. I could smell and feel it. An oblong bar of purple soap. Dad had some smelly gel in a small jar. And Mom had a square metal container.

She unscrewed the lid and smelled the insides. "It's not just talcum."

I said, "Maybe we didn't smell good to Georgette. Say, when's Grandpa moving in?"

Mom shook her head. "Not for at least six months. Maybe not even next year."