Sprung At Last

A New Broom, Part 2

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The Cleaning Lady brings up the Paris trip, which I remember quite well. It was just a few months before the IVF was begun and cost a fortune; he insisted we had to go because once we had a child, there would be no more traveling.

We took his kids and mine and there is not a single picture of the five of us together.

On the day we left, there were five of us in the house, getting ready, with all the last-minute activity that goes along with it: taking turns using the shower, making sure the dog got walked, and things were locked. I had a dog-sitter coming to stay in the house; she would arrive that evening. The Cleaning Lady was supposed to clean the house that day, so it would be clean before the dog sitter came.

When I came down from my shower, The Departed told me The Cleaning Lady had come, but with all the chaos, said she’d go to her other job first, then come back to clean our house in the afternoon, when we were gone.

I didn’t give it another thought until our return flight was delayed a week later. I called the dog sitter to let her know, and she said no problem, but also told me that the house had not been cleaned before her arrival. I was mortified; I left a sty behind.

I was also furious, because I left a check behind to pay The Cleaning Lady, to make sure there was no such sty awaiting the dog sitter.

I discuss all this with The Departed. I debate firing The Cleaning Lady, which is a bit of a problem because it took me a while to find her in the first place. I have other things to do, especially just at that time. Doctor visits to schedule. With any luck, I’d be looking for a day care in a few months’ time.

He and I agree to sit down with The Cleaning Lady, and see what she has to say for herself. Why on earth would she do that? She had been paid in advance; I was counting on her. I lecture her, and talk about trust. I need to know you are going to keep your word to me, I tell her.

She doesn’t seem to know what to say. She fumbles around and says, well, I didn’t think it was a problem; I’d just do twice the work the next week.

She sticks to this version a bit longer, until finally she backs down and says, I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again. I take back the house key from her, but say we’ll keep things as they are and as long as there aren’t any problems, we should be fine.

It all feels strange; it doesn’t make sense. I try to reconcile the feelings I have always had about her – I trust her and am comfortable having her in my house – with this awkward conversation I’ve been forced to have with her, and this strange unreliable thing she’s done.

I can’t add it, and I have other things on my mind, so I forget about the whole thing until she brings it up nearly two years after the event.

A New Broom

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The Cleaning Lady comes, as always, every other week. At first, after The Departed left, she is happy just to see me happy. She cleans and we chat a bit. When the divorce is final, I start buying furniture to replace what he took, and as I do that, I start painting rooms, moving things around. Things are taken off the walls and I wonder why I ever hung them there. It all happens slowly, but the house starts to take on a new personality.

When there is a big purchase, The Cleaning Lady will often compliment it. But more often than not, I simply overhear her when she walks into a room with a new bedspread or other detail, and say under her breath, “So much better.”

I start to notice her cleaning improves. I think maybe this is because there is less clutter around the house – but in fact with all the moving things around, the house is in perpetual chaos, and she’s constantly having to ask me where I put this or that away these days. I think maybe it’s just because she’s happier, or perhaps it’s just that I am.

On the week that I receive The Departed’s Suspended License Notice, I of course have to tell The Cleaning Lady the story. She says, he’ll get what he deserves in the end. You watch. I will never forgive what he did to you, she tells me.

She hesitates, and then decides she wants to tell me something else.

Do you remember, she says, when you went to Paris with him?

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

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With the merciful end of the legal bills, and generous scholarship for The Child, the financial crunch starts to ease … so much so, that in February, she and I attend an antique show. The Child ingratiates herself with a vendor selling antique radios, and somehow persuades them to sell her a 1951 Capeheart model, still functional, for $5. She lugs it from booth to booth, proudly, all afternoon.

I pick up a much lighter-weight, but more expensive, vintage Elizabeth David French cookbook.

On getting it home, I decide I’m not really that excited about the cookbook, but I am suddenly excited about cookbooks in general. Specifically, the idea of new cookbooks. So, a few days later, I head off to the used book store, where I pick up a baking book. And then a week or two later, I go back and get another one.

Then I start looking through all the cookbooks I already have, looking for something. Something new. Something different.

Lots of things sound good enough for me to sticky-note for later, but I don’t want any of them right now.

As I dug further into the cookbooks, I ran across a recipe that I’ve had for ages – but it didn’t come from a cookbook. Instead, it came from the mother of a former friend. I’d forgotten about the recipe, and mostly forgotten about the friend, and so haven’t made it for years. But I used to like it, and it was the first soup I ever made from scratch. Something old, familiar, and oddly comforting.

It’s easy enough to make: Pretty much just simmer the squash and onions until everything is completely soft, then puree the whole thing. An immersion blender would probably work well, but a regular ole blender or food processor work fine too.

Tart, crunchy apple slices make a nice contrast with the spicy curry and smooth soup, but I didn’t have any, so I cut up some crusty old bread into cubes and pretended they were croutons. The absorbed just enough of the liquid to become very tasty, but still with a bit of crunch.

Curried Butternut Squash Soup
 
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Serves: 6
Ingredients
  • 4 Tbsp butter
  • 2 cups onion chopped
  • 4-5 tsp curry powder
  • 2 medium butternut squash
  • 3 cups stock
  • 1 cup apple juice
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1 granny Smith apple, shredded, for garnish
Instructions
  1. Melt butter, add onions and curry, and cook, covered, over low heat until onions are tender.
  2. Peel the squash, scrape out seeds. Chop.
  3. When onions are tender, pour in stock, squash, and apples, and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer, partly covered, until squash are tender, 25 minutes.
  4. Strain soup, reserving liquid. Process solids in blender until smooth, adding 1 cup of liquid.
  5. Return soup to pot, add remaining cooking liquid and then apple juice, until soup is desired consistency.
  6. Add salt and pepper to taste. Rewarm and serve.
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This is my contribution to Weekend Cooking, hosted by Beth Fish Reads. Why not swing by and see what other savory delights await?

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