Suzie’s House 284 : The Nut House

“Have some tea. You’re looking a bit sallow, my dear.” Sonoma pushed Drew into a chair at the kitchen table, much to his irritation.

“You’re just like Suzie. Except for the tea and the language.” Drew hunched over with his elbows on the table. He really, really did not want to have to drink any more tea, but when Sonoma suggested it, no one could escape. It was her profession, after all.

“Suzie again. Wait. Language?” Sonoma paused with the teakettle in her hand, steam blowing out a loud whistle.

“She never says ‘my deer’.”

“Oh, deer. That does make me sound old, doesn’t it? Well, can’t be helped.” She poured hot water into a cup that already had a miniature sieve filled with some odd combination of leaves and roots.

“You had that ready for me even before I got up, didn’t you,” Drew accused. He hoped it tasted better than her previous concoction.

“Of course. This is medicine. It doesn’t work if you don’t take it the right way.” She brought the cup over and set it in front of him with an expectant air.

Drew sniffed it tentatively. It didn’t smell too bad today, but you never knew. He wasn’t entirely sure her teas were doing him that much good anyway. It seemed to him simply hanging out here with Sonoma and Trent helped with the drug induced mental problems. Or maybe it just seemed that way because the rest of the people in their household made him look sane by comparison.

“So, have you called Suzie yet?”

“Do you have to ask that every morning? No. I haven’t. Why do you and Trent insist on it.”

“Because you bring her name up in every conversation. Obviously she is important to you and it sounds like you’re important to her. You should at least call.”

“I already know what she’d say.”

“How can you be sure?”

Drew gave her a dirty look because they’d already talked about calling way too many times. He knew that Suzie would just tell him to come home. She wouldn’t share her problems with him over the phone and he couldn’t make her understand his. It was all pointless.

Sonoma looked like she’d argue, then closed her mouth quite pointedly and turned to her cupboard full of homeopathic remedies, medicinal plants, and tinctures. While she had her back to the door, Carly slinked into the kitchen, her eyes fixed on Sonoma and as wide and nervous as a deer. She sidled up to Drew to whisper into his ear.

“Have you seen my rifle?”

“No.” Drew blinked at her a couple of times. He was never entirely sure he was correctly seeing what Carly said and did. She had literally arrived in this house straight from the state mental institution. She was also an avid hunter.

“What hunting season is in the dead of winter?” Drew thought out loud.

“None.” Sonoma rounded on them. “Carly, have you had your tea yet?”

Looking horrified, Carly shook her head. She took a step backward, like she thought she might actually succeed in escaping. Moving incredibly quickly for an octogenarian, Sonoma got between the twenty year old girl and the door, just in time to block the way for Stewart and Rudy.

Stewart carried a stuffed squirrel in one hand and held Rudy’s hand with the other.

“Howdy,” he greeted everyone in the room with a general kind of nod. He placed the squirrel in the middle of the table. “The guys from that production at the Crystal Theater tonight are going to come pick this up, but Rudy and I are headed for Gerry Johnson’s hot springs. Can someone make sure they get it?” He looked hopefully around the room.

“Sure. I’ll do it,” Carly said. She smiled proudly, then eyed the squirrel with entirely too much interest.

“I’ll do it,” Sonoma said fatalistically. “You never know what Carly will do with it.”

“I wasn’t going to shoot you. Honest,” Carly assured the stuffed squirrel.

“This just goes to illustrate how important it is to stay on your medication. Right, Carly?” Sonoma gave the girl a pointed look.

“False accusations!” Carly yelped.

“Tea!” Sonoma countered.

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” Slowly, grudgingly, Carly took a sip of tea. She looked surprised, and began to drink with more enthusiasm. She slammed down the rest, then took off, only pausing in the door long enough to say to Drew, “ if you see it, let me know.”

“She better not be talking about that rifle I took away last night.” Sonoma compressed her lips for a minute, wrinkled brow developing several new wrinkles, then took off after the girl, then also paused in the door to talk to Drew. “And you. Don’t help her find it.”

“Of course not,” Drew said with deep feeling. “I don’t want her to pull any triggers any more than you do.” But Sonoma wasn’t listening. She was already gone.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Rudy said. “Sonoma doesn’t object to Carly’s guns because Carly’s a psychopathic nut job. She objects because she doesn’t think guns should exist. It’s against her spiritual beliefs.” Rudy eyed Drew’s cup of tea. “You ARE going to drink that, aren’t you FBI man?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” Drew took a cautious sip. Bitter, dark, and tongue numbing. He winced, and forced down another swallow. It was a small price to pay for the privilege of staying in the nut house.

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This episode is dedicated to Anastasia St. James, who requested more Drew.