Sassafras, Part 62
Rick
While I was crumbling up the hamburger Bill walked in the front door. “Where’s Aunt Jo?”
”She’s changing. How’s everything going?”
He looked at me and smiled. “It’s going. You should have seen her at Don’s. She told my aunts she’s moving back. Aunt Margie said she was going to make me go to Phoenix with them, but Aunt Jo told her to go to hell.”
Joan walked in from the living room. “No, I never told her to go to hell. I told her I’d see her in hell before she took you to Phoenix. There’s a difference.”
“Well, either way, I’m not going to Phoenix. We’re staying here.”
“If I can find a job.” She took the spatula from me and inspected my work. “Looks good.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I gave her a kiss and leaned back against the counter watching her work. What makeup survived the funeral was gone, her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing a yellow t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants, but she still looked cute. She looked young and athletic, like a tomboy, ready for a game of softball or touch football. Not the sophisticated city girl I was used to, but it was surprisingly sexy. If Bill hadn’t been there I would have been all over her. It was hard to keep my hands to myself each time she walked by. Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. “I ought to get going. The sooner I talk to Matt the sooner I can come back.”
“But he won’t even get there for 20 minutes.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be too obvious about talking to him. If I just walk in and start asking him questions somebody might get suspicious. If I walk in and have a beer and then casually ask a couple of questions nobody would notice a thing.”
“You sound like a natural born sneak.” Joan said.
“No, my sneak ability took years of training and practice.” She walked to the door with me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Are you sure you don’t need anything while I’m out?”
“No, I’ve got everything I need. Be careful, Rick.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. You’d better go keep an eye on that hamburger.”
“Okay. I expect a full report when you get back.”
“I know, I know. I just hope I have something to report.” I kissed her goodbye and left.
When I got to Tanner’s I got a beer and played pool until I saw Matt walk in. I knew he would take a few minutes stocking the bar, then take the trash out. I watched until I saw him pulling the trashcans to the back door, then I went outside and walked around back to the dumpster right when he was opening the back door.
"Hey, Matt," I said when he saw me. "Sneider wanted me to see how things are going. Has anybody been snooping around asking questions?"
"Asking about what?" he asked.
"Cut the shit, Matt, I know what happened. Sneider’s tripping because Jenny's sister's been on his ass. He doesn't want her to find out anything. Has she been here asking questions?"
"She was in here a couple of nights ago, but wasn't really poking around, just drank a couple of beers. I think I remember seeing the two of you together that night," he said, starting to look suspicious. He wasn’t exactly a brain surgeon, but I was going to have to watch my step. A little suspicion could be deadly. For me and Joan.
"Yeah, Sneider has me baby sitting her, but I can't stay with her 24/7, you know?"
"If I was baby sitting her I would," he laughed. "She'd be on her knees 24/7."
We both laughed, but I felt my temper rising. "Yeah, that would be nice, kind of awkward at work though," I said.
I tossed a bag of trash in the dumpster. "Was it hard cleaning everything up that night?" I asked casually, trying to sound like I knew more than I did.
"Nah, there wasn't much to clean up. Had to throw away a pool stick he broke after she started swinging it at him, and wipe a little blood off the floor. I didn't know he killed her till the next day. I'm just glad he didn't expect me to help carry her out."
"How did Sneider get her out without everybody looking?" I asked,
"Sneider?“ Matt looked startled. “He wasn't even here. It was just Hollywood."
I didn't know who Hollywood was, but didn't want Matt to know. "Right, right, I forgot. I thought Sneider did her the way he was freaking about it. You know how he is.”
"No, man, it was just Hollywood that did it. They were just sitting there by the pool table. All of a sudden she clocked him a couple of times with that pool stick, then he just starts pounding on her. The next thing I know she's laying on the floor and he's in back of the bar getting a bottle of whiskey and the beer bong. When he hauled her out of there I didn’t know if she was alive or dead, and I sure didn't ask any questions. He's crazy. Sneider's a mean bastard, but Hollywood's a crazy motherfucker.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. I felt sick inside, but tried to hide it. Matt didn’t seem to notice. Who the hell was Hollywood?
“Yeah,” he went on. “He likes doing shit like that. I saw him once when he was breaking up a bar fight here last summer, but he didn't break it up, he just kept beating one of the guys until the other cops pulled him off. Broke the guy’s arm in two places. I think he's one of those crazy people that like whips and chains, you know what I mean? A sodomist or something."
“I think you mean a sadist,” I said absently, thinking about what Matt said. Jenny went down swinging. I could see the same fiery streak in Joan. I just hoped it didn’t end up the same. “A sodomist would be somebody who likes ass sex.”
“So you were a sodomist when you were in the penn?”
“Hell no,” I said. “Just very, very horny.”
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Just That Good
I am good at my job. I wasn't sure if I would be. I'm not a very assertive person. I have a tendency to cry when I'm frustrated or intimidated. I was sure by now some asshole would have made me cry, but that hasn't happened yet. They've made me want to cuss and throw things, but nobody has made me cry.
I know I'm good at my job because they check on the operators. They have a company that calls operators at random to ask for telephone numbers. You get graded on things like your speed, your attitude, if you find the right number. So far all of my test calls have been Very Good, except for one that was Excellent. The managers in the office also give us all test calls, and all of those have been really good, too. I hate it, because I'm not used to managers that want to talk to you when you aren't messing something up. Every time my coach tells me she wants me to go to her little cubicle I think I'm in trouble, but they always tell me what a good job I'm doing. Still, when a superior wants to talk to me, I just expect the worse.
They also audit real calls. They listen to about 10 calls, and write down all the information, like the city and state, what the name of the place was, things like that. The last time someone did that, they complained that I was going too fast for them to write everything down. Because I'm just that good.
Another way I can tell I'm that good is I was working one day last week and noticed I was kind of hungry. I looked at my schedule to see what time I was supposed to go to lunch. Every day is different. Even if I start and stop at the same time, my breaks aren't the same times. I was supposed to go to lunch 45 minutes earlier. I was just working away and didn't even notice when it was time to go to lunch. Oops. I went to the desk and they changed my schedule on their little computer. They keep track of how close you follow your schedule. I felt like a tard, but they didn't mind.
Oh, something else about work. They finally got around to completely converting our office to a new computer system. I was working on one of the older computers, and noticed it proudly displaying the little sticker announcing that it was made Y2K compliant in 1998. We were still using Windows 95. I think we have NT or 2000 now, I don't remember.
I am good at my job. I wasn't sure if I would be. I'm not a very assertive person. I have a tendency to cry when I'm frustrated or intimidated. I was sure by now some asshole would have made me cry, but that hasn't happened yet. They've made me want to cuss and throw things, but nobody has made me cry.
I know I'm good at my job because they check on the operators. They have a company that calls operators at random to ask for telephone numbers. You get graded on things like your speed, your attitude, if you find the right number. So far all of my test calls have been Very Good, except for one that was Excellent. The managers in the office also give us all test calls, and all of those have been really good, too. I hate it, because I'm not used to managers that want to talk to you when you aren't messing something up. Every time my coach tells me she wants me to go to her little cubicle I think I'm in trouble, but they always tell me what a good job I'm doing. Still, when a superior wants to talk to me, I just expect the worse.
They also audit real calls. They listen to about 10 calls, and write down all the information, like the city and state, what the name of the place was, things like that. The last time someone did that, they complained that I was going too fast for them to write everything down. Because I'm just that good.
Another way I can tell I'm that good is I was working one day last week and noticed I was kind of hungry. I looked at my schedule to see what time I was supposed to go to lunch. Every day is different. Even if I start and stop at the same time, my breaks aren't the same times. I was supposed to go to lunch 45 minutes earlier. I was just working away and didn't even notice when it was time to go to lunch. Oops. I went to the desk and they changed my schedule on their little computer. They keep track of how close you follow your schedule. I felt like a tard, but they didn't mind.
Oh, something else about work. They finally got around to completely converting our office to a new computer system. I was working on one of the older computers, and noticed it proudly displaying the little sticker announcing that it was made Y2K compliant in 1998. We were still using Windows 95. I think we have NT or 2000 now, I don't remember.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Sassafras, Part 61
Rick
After work Tony stopped so I could get the starter for Joan’s car. “So, how was the funeral?”
“It was okay. Joan was glad to see me. Thanks for letting me borrow your car.”
“No problem, Pops. You know, I used to have a crush on her.”
“I think every man in Sassafras had a crush on Jenny.”
“Fuck Jenny. I’m talking about Joan.”
“You have a crush on Joan?”
“Well, I was seven at the time. She was about 14, 15. She was my babysitter. Usually I was stuck with Jenny. One night Jenny got sick and Joan came instead. She was a lot nicer than Jenny. She was a stuck up bitch, always on the phone, telling me and my sister to shut up, but Joan was nice. She played games with us, she made popcorn. I remember she brought a great big book to read. It was a bunch of science fiction stories that won some kind of award. When I asked her about it, she actually read us one of the stories. Mom got home before she was done, but she stayed and finished reading it. She never came back after that. I forgot all about her when Brittany Olson moved next door.”
“I’m sure she was crushed.”
“I’m sure neither one of them realized I existed.”
By the time we got to the Monte Vista the wind had died down and the snow was falling in huge white flakes, giving everything a blurry Norman Rockwell feel. I cleaned up and scraped the ice off my car, then drove to Joan’s.
“You’ll never guess what I’m doing,” Joan said when she answered the door. I could think of four or five things I would like to see her doing. “I’m reading the paper.” That wasn’t one of them. “Let me tell you, the help wanted ads are very disappointing.”
“You’re looking for a job? Really?” I followed her to the kitchen where there was newspaper spread across the table.
“You sound so surprised. I promised you I would think about staying. How can I think about staying if I don’t think about a job? It doesn’t look good though. Not unless I want to be a night janitor at Stoneypoint Elementary, or a doctor at Mercy General. I told you, this place sucks.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“It can and it is,” she grumbled, drumming a highlighter on the table. “Look at this job, part-time cashier at the truck stop by Don’s. Why don’t I run down and put in an application? Oh, right, because that job sucks. And this job sucks, and this job sucks, and this job sucks. This is hopeless. None of these jobs pay enough to live on, none of them have any kind of health insurance or benefits of any kind.”
“Don’t give up so soon. Where are your car keys?”
“What do you need my keys for?”
“I’m going to go put on that starter.”
“But it’s snowing! You can’t do that in the snow.”
“It’ll just take a second. Besides, a little snow won’t hurt me.”
“A little snow? There’s at least six inches already, and the weather man said we’ll end up with at least four more. Well, I’ll fix some coffee. I need to get up and start on dinner anyway.”
“What are you fixing?”
“Tacos. I think I can manage to cook some hamburger and chop up a tomato and some lettuce. But I’m warning you, you’re taking your life in your own hands if you eat my cooking. I guess I’m pretty spoiled. I never have to cook in New York. I think having to actually cook would be the hardest thing about moving back here. That or going to medical school so I could get that job at the hospital.” She dug around in her purse until she pulled out a key chain and handed it to me.
“Why don’t you go back to school? I bet you could get some kind of scholarship. You’re smart enough. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about a job.”
She nibbled her lip a little. “That’s an idea.” She sighed. “But even if I did go back to school, what kind of job could I get here?”
“You’ll think of something. I have faith in you. I’ll be back in just a couple minutes.” It really did just take a couple of minutes to change the starter. I was back inside before the coffee was finished brewing. Joan was studying a pile of hamburger starting to sizzle in a skillet. When she saw me she filled a coffee cup and handed it to me.
“If you don’t crumble that up you’re going to end up with one giant hamburger patty.”
“I knew that,” she claimed, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I leaned against the counter and watched her cook. She didn’t look like she had a clue what she was doing. She started stabbing the meat with a spatula, looking at it like she almost expected it to fight back.
“Would you like me to do that? You’re going to get hamburger grease all over your dress.”
“No, I’m cooking dinner.” She stabbed it a few more times, then ran her hand down the front of her dress. It was the one she wore the first day I saw her, the dark gray one she said was her favorite. “Do you really think I’m going to get grease on my dress?”
“Oh, definitely. Everywhere. You should probably take it off right now.”
She smiled at me. “You just want to see me naked.”
“If you don’t mind. No, I’m serious; you’re going to get grease all over your dress. You ought to change. I can watch this.”
She hesitated a minute then handed me the spatula. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Rick
After work Tony stopped so I could get the starter for Joan’s car. “So, how was the funeral?”
“It was okay. Joan was glad to see me. Thanks for letting me borrow your car.”
“No problem, Pops. You know, I used to have a crush on her.”
“I think every man in Sassafras had a crush on Jenny.”
“Fuck Jenny. I’m talking about Joan.”
“You have a crush on Joan?”
“Well, I was seven at the time. She was about 14, 15. She was my babysitter. Usually I was stuck with Jenny. One night Jenny got sick and Joan came instead. She was a lot nicer than Jenny. She was a stuck up bitch, always on the phone, telling me and my sister to shut up, but Joan was nice. She played games with us, she made popcorn. I remember she brought a great big book to read. It was a bunch of science fiction stories that won some kind of award. When I asked her about it, she actually read us one of the stories. Mom got home before she was done, but she stayed and finished reading it. She never came back after that. I forgot all about her when Brittany Olson moved next door.”
“I’m sure she was crushed.”
“I’m sure neither one of them realized I existed.”
By the time we got to the Monte Vista the wind had died down and the snow was falling in huge white flakes, giving everything a blurry Norman Rockwell feel. I cleaned up and scraped the ice off my car, then drove to Joan’s.
“You’ll never guess what I’m doing,” Joan said when she answered the door. I could think of four or five things I would like to see her doing. “I’m reading the paper.” That wasn’t one of them. “Let me tell you, the help wanted ads are very disappointing.”
“You’re looking for a job? Really?” I followed her to the kitchen where there was newspaper spread across the table.
“You sound so surprised. I promised you I would think about staying. How can I think about staying if I don’t think about a job? It doesn’t look good though. Not unless I want to be a night janitor at Stoneypoint Elementary, or a doctor at Mercy General. I told you, this place sucks.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“It can and it is,” she grumbled, drumming a highlighter on the table. “Look at this job, part-time cashier at the truck stop by Don’s. Why don’t I run down and put in an application? Oh, right, because that job sucks. And this job sucks, and this job sucks, and this job sucks. This is hopeless. None of these jobs pay enough to live on, none of them have any kind of health insurance or benefits of any kind.”
“Don’t give up so soon. Where are your car keys?”
“What do you need my keys for?”
“I’m going to go put on that starter.”
“But it’s snowing! You can’t do that in the snow.”
“It’ll just take a second. Besides, a little snow won’t hurt me.”
“A little snow? There’s at least six inches already, and the weather man said we’ll end up with at least four more. Well, I’ll fix some coffee. I need to get up and start on dinner anyway.”
“What are you fixing?”
“Tacos. I think I can manage to cook some hamburger and chop up a tomato and some lettuce. But I’m warning you, you’re taking your life in your own hands if you eat my cooking. I guess I’m pretty spoiled. I never have to cook in New York. I think having to actually cook would be the hardest thing about moving back here. That or going to medical school so I could get that job at the hospital.” She dug around in her purse until she pulled out a key chain and handed it to me.
“Why don’t you go back to school? I bet you could get some kind of scholarship. You’re smart enough. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about a job.”
She nibbled her lip a little. “That’s an idea.” She sighed. “But even if I did go back to school, what kind of job could I get here?”
“You’ll think of something. I have faith in you. I’ll be back in just a couple minutes.” It really did just take a couple of minutes to change the starter. I was back inside before the coffee was finished brewing. Joan was studying a pile of hamburger starting to sizzle in a skillet. When she saw me she filled a coffee cup and handed it to me.
“If you don’t crumble that up you’re going to end up with one giant hamburger patty.”
“I knew that,” she claimed, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I leaned against the counter and watched her cook. She didn’t look like she had a clue what she was doing. She started stabbing the meat with a spatula, looking at it like she almost expected it to fight back.
“Would you like me to do that? You’re going to get hamburger grease all over your dress.”
“No, I’m cooking dinner.” She stabbed it a few more times, then ran her hand down the front of her dress. It was the one she wore the first day I saw her, the dark gray one she said was her favorite. “Do you really think I’m going to get grease on my dress?”
“Oh, definitely. Everywhere. You should probably take it off right now.”
She smiled at me. “You just want to see me naked.”
“If you don’t mind. No, I’m serious; you’re going to get grease all over your dress. You ought to change. I can watch this.”
She hesitated a minute then handed me the spatula. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Sassafras, Part 60
Rick
By the time I got to the funeral home the parking lot was almost full. For a second I thought about just driving by and going back to work, but I sighed and pulled in anyway. Joan and Bill were standing at the front door talking to some people when I was looking for a parking spot. After I finally parked I sat in Tony’s car for a minute giving myself a pep talk. If I wanted to have a serious relationship with Joan sooner or later the whole town would know about it, but just showing up at Jenny’s funeral with her was like having it splashed across the front page of the paper. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t look like hell. God, my life was a mess. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. It felt like I was back in high school, a skinny little computer nerd, too shy to even talk to a girl, much less ask one out. If I could make it through four years of high school and seven years of prison I could make it through one funeral.
By the time I got out of the car Joan and Bill were sitting alone on a little bench. He saw me first and tapped Joan’s shoulder. She smiled the most beautiful smile in the world, then ran into my arms and hugged me. As soon as she put her arms around me and rested her cheek on my chest I felt like everything was going to be all right. It was the weirdest feeling, like all of a sudden everything fit together. Nothing was out of place, nothing was missing.
We stood talking in the rain for a minute. She was so glad to see me. I just hoped once we got inside with everybody else she wouldn’t change her mind. She didn’t know what it was like to have the whole town watching you like some kind of circus freak. We talked to Bill for a while then went inside. I thought about leaving my coat on. After all, it’s black. That would look better than the old flannel shirt I was wearing. In the end I took it off and hung it next to Joan’s coat. She was wearing that gray dress she wore the first time I saw her, her hair pulled back in a bun.
“I’m sorry I look like such a bum. I didn’t know I was going to come or I would have worn something better.”
“It’s okay, Rick. I’m just glad you came.”
The funeral director met us at the door to the chapel and walked us up the aisle. As soon as we walked in I could see people turning and staring at us. At me. Joan asked if they were from my fan club. I tried to get her to let me sit in the back somewhere out of sight, but she looked like she was about to cry when I suggested it, so I ended up sitting right in the front row next to her. She introduced me to her uncle and a couple of cousins who were also sitting in the front row.
I tried to pay attention to the service, but I couldn’t stop looking at Joan. I couldn’t believe she was with me. I’d never done anything to deserve someone like her. As a matter of fact, I had done several things that should have guaranteed she would never even look at me, but here I was, and there she was. She was holding my hand and staring up at the casket when I noticed she was crying. I handed her a box of tissues that was sitting on the end of the pew, but she just sat there holding it. I put my arm around her but she barely seemed to notice. When her cousin Katie gave Joan her stuffed animal I heard a sob come bubbling out of her, then the tears started falling in earnest.
“It’s okay, Babe. It’s okay. I’m right here.” I brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. She leaned against me, gripping the front of my shirt in her little hand and shaking. “I know, Babe. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” I don’t know how long I sat like that. Everything else faded away and all I could see was Joan. All I cared about was taking care of her, holding her, letting her cry as long as she needed. She was the only thing that was important.
Eventually the tears stopped. She looked up at me, tears still sparkling on her lashes. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, but that just smeared her makeup even more than her tears had done. I pulled a tissue out of the box and gently wiped her cheeks, trying to clean her up as much as I could. She sat still against my shoulder while I wiped her face, an occasional stray tear still escaping from her eyes. She watched me while I worked, a weary look on her face. “Do you need to get out of here?” I whispered. “We could go outside and get some air.”
She just shook her head. “No. I’m okay now.” She leaned back against me and sighed. “I just wish this was all over.”
Almost as if on cue the preacher finished speaking. Soft music started while the funeral director walked to the front of the chapel and told everybody after the burial there would be a gathering at Don’s. While he was talking his assistants wheeled Jenny’s casket to the open double doors. Joan, Bill, and I followed and watched them load the casket into the waiting hearse. Joan gave her cousin back the stuffed animal and hugged her, then hugged her uncle. That started another little fit of crying, but it only lasted a few minutes and then she pulled herself back together. I heard her uncle tell her they weren’t going to the gravesite; they would meet again at Don’s.
I rode to the gravesite with Joan and Bill in the funeral home’s car, a large black Lincoln, quiet and luxurious. It would have been easy to imagine we were going out on the town instead of creeping through a cemetery on the way to bury Joan’s sister. Except I looked more like I was on my way to milk a cow than go out on the town. We still had no idea what happened the night Jenny died. It was possible we would never know. Judging from Sneider’s actions, I could tell he was involved somehow, but whether he was the murderer or just an accomplice was hard to tell. It was even possible that he wasn’t involved at all. Maybe what I took for evidence of a guilty conscious was really just evidence that he was a lousy policeman, more worried about appearing competent than actually solving the case. That didn’t explain why he was so jumpy, the way he reacted to those camera chips. Somehow, he was involved.
The service at the gravesite was short and to the point. The weather had turned. Sleet already covered the headstones with a layer of ice and made wet tapping sounds on the awning above us. The wind was cold, rushing down the hill and past us like it was late for an appointment. Before the service was over I saw the first flakes drift by, large and white and wet.
There wasn’t any easy way to say goodbye to Joan after the service. I didn’t want to leave her. We said goodbye three times, but I still wasn’t any closer to leaving than when we stepped out of the Lincoln in back of the funeral home. She just felt too good, even bundled up in her long red coat. She was resting in my arms, the wind pulling a few strands of hair loose and snapping them against my cheek. It was snowing, and everything felt clean and frosty.
“Are you really off tomorrow and Tuesday?”
“Yes. I have to go see my parole officer Monday, but other than that I’m all yours. Anything you want.”
“Anything? Don’t forget, this is Sassafras. There isn’t much anything here.”
“Whatever it is. Anything you want. Look, I really have to go. I’m going to get in trouble if I don’t get back to work.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around my waist. “Are you still coming over tonight?”
“Nothing could keep me away. Not rain or snow or dark of night.”
“So, you’re going to be dropping off the mail?”
“I’ll make a special delivery.”
Before I left I had her start her car, just to make sure she was going to be okay. I didn’t want to leave her stranded. I was 45 minutes late getting back to work, but I didn’t care. It was worth it just to see the look on her face when she saw me. Paulson didn’t complain about me being late. As a matter of fact, he told me that one of the mixer operators was going to retire in a couple of months and Mr. Kennedy was thinking about having me take his place. It wouldn’t be much more money, but the benefits would be a lot better.
Rick
By the time I got to the funeral home the parking lot was almost full. For a second I thought about just driving by and going back to work, but I sighed and pulled in anyway. Joan and Bill were standing at the front door talking to some people when I was looking for a parking spot. After I finally parked I sat in Tony’s car for a minute giving myself a pep talk. If I wanted to have a serious relationship with Joan sooner or later the whole town would know about it, but just showing up at Jenny’s funeral with her was like having it splashed across the front page of the paper. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t look like hell. God, my life was a mess. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. It felt like I was back in high school, a skinny little computer nerd, too shy to even talk to a girl, much less ask one out. If I could make it through four years of high school and seven years of prison I could make it through one funeral.
By the time I got out of the car Joan and Bill were sitting alone on a little bench. He saw me first and tapped Joan’s shoulder. She smiled the most beautiful smile in the world, then ran into my arms and hugged me. As soon as she put her arms around me and rested her cheek on my chest I felt like everything was going to be all right. It was the weirdest feeling, like all of a sudden everything fit together. Nothing was out of place, nothing was missing.
We stood talking in the rain for a minute. She was so glad to see me. I just hoped once we got inside with everybody else she wouldn’t change her mind. She didn’t know what it was like to have the whole town watching you like some kind of circus freak. We talked to Bill for a while then went inside. I thought about leaving my coat on. After all, it’s black. That would look better than the old flannel shirt I was wearing. In the end I took it off and hung it next to Joan’s coat. She was wearing that gray dress she wore the first time I saw her, her hair pulled back in a bun.
“I’m sorry I look like such a bum. I didn’t know I was going to come or I would have worn something better.”
“It’s okay, Rick. I’m just glad you came.”
The funeral director met us at the door to the chapel and walked us up the aisle. As soon as we walked in I could see people turning and staring at us. At me. Joan asked if they were from my fan club. I tried to get her to let me sit in the back somewhere out of sight, but she looked like she was about to cry when I suggested it, so I ended up sitting right in the front row next to her. She introduced me to her uncle and a couple of cousins who were also sitting in the front row.
I tried to pay attention to the service, but I couldn’t stop looking at Joan. I couldn’t believe she was with me. I’d never done anything to deserve someone like her. As a matter of fact, I had done several things that should have guaranteed she would never even look at me, but here I was, and there she was. She was holding my hand and staring up at the casket when I noticed she was crying. I handed her a box of tissues that was sitting on the end of the pew, but she just sat there holding it. I put my arm around her but she barely seemed to notice. When her cousin Katie gave Joan her stuffed animal I heard a sob come bubbling out of her, then the tears started falling in earnest.
“It’s okay, Babe. It’s okay. I’m right here.” I brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. She leaned against me, gripping the front of my shirt in her little hand and shaking. “I know, Babe. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” I don’t know how long I sat like that. Everything else faded away and all I could see was Joan. All I cared about was taking care of her, holding her, letting her cry as long as she needed. She was the only thing that was important.
Eventually the tears stopped. She looked up at me, tears still sparkling on her lashes. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, but that just smeared her makeup even more than her tears had done. I pulled a tissue out of the box and gently wiped her cheeks, trying to clean her up as much as I could. She sat still against my shoulder while I wiped her face, an occasional stray tear still escaping from her eyes. She watched me while I worked, a weary look on her face. “Do you need to get out of here?” I whispered. “We could go outside and get some air.”
She just shook her head. “No. I’m okay now.” She leaned back against me and sighed. “I just wish this was all over.”
Almost as if on cue the preacher finished speaking. Soft music started while the funeral director walked to the front of the chapel and told everybody after the burial there would be a gathering at Don’s. While he was talking his assistants wheeled Jenny’s casket to the open double doors. Joan, Bill, and I followed and watched them load the casket into the waiting hearse. Joan gave her cousin back the stuffed animal and hugged her, then hugged her uncle. That started another little fit of crying, but it only lasted a few minutes and then she pulled herself back together. I heard her uncle tell her they weren’t going to the gravesite; they would meet again at Don’s.
I rode to the gravesite with Joan and Bill in the funeral home’s car, a large black Lincoln, quiet and luxurious. It would have been easy to imagine we were going out on the town instead of creeping through a cemetery on the way to bury Joan’s sister. Except I looked more like I was on my way to milk a cow than go out on the town. We still had no idea what happened the night Jenny died. It was possible we would never know. Judging from Sneider’s actions, I could tell he was involved somehow, but whether he was the murderer or just an accomplice was hard to tell. It was even possible that he wasn’t involved at all. Maybe what I took for evidence of a guilty conscious was really just evidence that he was a lousy policeman, more worried about appearing competent than actually solving the case. That didn’t explain why he was so jumpy, the way he reacted to those camera chips. Somehow, he was involved.
The service at the gravesite was short and to the point. The weather had turned. Sleet already covered the headstones with a layer of ice and made wet tapping sounds on the awning above us. The wind was cold, rushing down the hill and past us like it was late for an appointment. Before the service was over I saw the first flakes drift by, large and white and wet.
There wasn’t any easy way to say goodbye to Joan after the service. I didn’t want to leave her. We said goodbye three times, but I still wasn’t any closer to leaving than when we stepped out of the Lincoln in back of the funeral home. She just felt too good, even bundled up in her long red coat. She was resting in my arms, the wind pulling a few strands of hair loose and snapping them against my cheek. It was snowing, and everything felt clean and frosty.
“Are you really off tomorrow and Tuesday?”
“Yes. I have to go see my parole officer Monday, but other than that I’m all yours. Anything you want.”
“Anything? Don’t forget, this is Sassafras. There isn’t much anything here.”
“Whatever it is. Anything you want. Look, I really have to go. I’m going to get in trouble if I don’t get back to work.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around my waist. “Are you still coming over tonight?”
“Nothing could keep me away. Not rain or snow or dark of night.”
“So, you’re going to be dropping off the mail?”
“I’ll make a special delivery.”
Before I left I had her start her car, just to make sure she was going to be okay. I didn’t want to leave her stranded. I was 45 minutes late getting back to work, but I didn’t care. It was worth it just to see the look on her face when she saw me. Paulson didn’t complain about me being late. As a matter of fact, he told me that one of the mixer operators was going to retire in a couple of months and Mr. Kennedy was thinking about having me take his place. It wouldn’t be much more money, but the benefits would be a lot better.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Sassafras, Part 59
Rick
I had a nightmare that a car was chasing Joan. She ran faster and faster, but couldn’t get away. She kept screaming and calling my name, but I couldn’t answer. Then I realized I was driving the car, and I couldn’t stop. I woke up right before I hit her, my heart pounding like a charging rhino. After that I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and turned all night, then I almost slept through my alarm. There was barely time to throw on a flannel shirt and some jeans before it was time to go.
Tony was already in his car when I got outside. “We missed you last night. Tanya was mad you didn’t stop by. Especially after the show you two put on. What did you do to piss off Joan?”
“I didn’t do anything. I told her I was on parole. She didn’t like it very much.”
“That sucks. At least it looks like you made up.”
“Yeah. I’m going over to her place after work tonight.”
“You’re not going to the funeral? Man, you got to go.”
“I can’t take off work.”
“Whatever. You need to go.
“Yeah, right. Just walk up to Paulson and tell him I’m leaving.”
“Well, when’s the funeral?”
“1:30. Then everybody’s going to Don’s.”
Tony drove in silence for a while. “Why don’t you just take a late lunch? You could work while everybody else is at lunch, then take lunch after everybody gets back. How long can the funeral last? The funeral home’s right in town. And come on, Jenny was Kennedy’s neighbor. I doubt if he’d be a dick about you going to her funeral. As long as we can convince Paulson to let you go.”
“I don’t know, Tony. Paulson won’t go for it.”
“Sure he will. We only have two shipments today and they’re only running three lines. One shipment should be ready to load when we get there. The other one won’t be ready until around three. All we have to do until then is keep the lines stocked. If you work through lunch you could load the front of the lines up and when I get back all I’d have to do is just keep up with the packaging. You wouldn’t really be taking any time off, you’d just take lunch around 1:30 instead of 12. Maybe you might get back a little late but I’ll cover for you.”
I wanted to go. I just didn’t want to embarrass Joan in front of half the town. She might not care how I looked, but they would, and really, I looked about one step above homeless. Plus it was hard to work in a dog food factory without smelling like kibbles and bits by the end of the day. “No, I can’t. Look at me. I wouldn’t have any time to change. I didn’t even shave this morning. I look worse than yesterday. I can’t go like this.”
“Next thing you’ll ask me if those pants make your ass look big. Get real. Joan won’t give a shit what you’re wearing. What do you think she’d say if you told her you didn’t go to the funeral because you didn’t have anything to wear?”
I stared at the wipers slapping back and forth. I hated it when he was right, but he was right. I had to at least try. Maybe Paulson would go for it. If I was late getting back he could write me up if he wanted to. I hadn’t been in trouble since I started working there. One write up wasn’t going to hurt me. “I’ll have to borrow your car.”
“That’s fine. So you’re going to go?”
“If Paulson’s okay with it, yeah.”
Tony called Paulson over while I was still clocking in. I was almost hoping he would say no, but he surprised me and agreed with our plan. Now I just had to wait. It was strange working while everybody was in the break room eating lunch. I lined up pallets of flavor base, corn meal, and coloring by the mixers. By the time everybody started going back to work I could feel butterflies fighting each other in my stomach. I was nervous about going to the funeral. I’m an ex-con. I’d grown used to the stares and whispers, used to acting like I didn’t notice them, or that they didn’t bother me. Joan wasn’t. I didn’t know how she would react. It’s one thing to meet me at Tanner’s, but for her to be seen in public with me, at Jenny’s funeral no less, was something else. By the end of the day the whole town would be talking about us. About her. ‘Did you hear about Jenny’s sister?’ would be the way a lot of conversations started.
I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t made an honest mistake on an account. It was just a zero. Instead of $50, I charged a client $500. Unfortunately, it was Mr. Leighton’s account. I hated Mr. Leighton. I thought he was a pompous ass, greedy and arrogant, and frequently wished he would drop dead. Hopefully right in front of me. It if had been any other account I would have sent a nice letter explaining the discrepancy, complete with an enclosed check for $450. But it wasn’t any other account. It was Mr. Leighton’s account. By the time I noticed the error five months had passed. I decided if he hadn’t noticed by then I wasn’t going to say anything.
That was just the beginning. Maybe if I hadn’t already spent my childhood hacking into computers, and financed my college education by expanding that little hobby, it wouldn’t have been so easy to slip into a life of crime. Sure, technically I was already leading a life of crime, but there’s a big difference between convincing a computer to erase a bill, or changing a grade from a D to a B, and taking money from someone you know, someone who trusts you with their life’s savings, who invites you to birthdays and graduations. That’s what I did, and I paid for it. I just didn’t want Joan to pay for it, too.
Rick
I had a nightmare that a car was chasing Joan. She ran faster and faster, but couldn’t get away. She kept screaming and calling my name, but I couldn’t answer. Then I realized I was driving the car, and I couldn’t stop. I woke up right before I hit her, my heart pounding like a charging rhino. After that I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and turned all night, then I almost slept through my alarm. There was barely time to throw on a flannel shirt and some jeans before it was time to go.
Tony was already in his car when I got outside. “We missed you last night. Tanya was mad you didn’t stop by. Especially after the show you two put on. What did you do to piss off Joan?”
“I didn’t do anything. I told her I was on parole. She didn’t like it very much.”
“That sucks. At least it looks like you made up.”
“Yeah. I’m going over to her place after work tonight.”
“You’re not going to the funeral? Man, you got to go.”
“I can’t take off work.”
“Whatever. You need to go.
“Yeah, right. Just walk up to Paulson and tell him I’m leaving.”
“Well, when’s the funeral?”
“1:30. Then everybody’s going to Don’s.”
Tony drove in silence for a while. “Why don’t you just take a late lunch? You could work while everybody else is at lunch, then take lunch after everybody gets back. How long can the funeral last? The funeral home’s right in town. And come on, Jenny was Kennedy’s neighbor. I doubt if he’d be a dick about you going to her funeral. As long as we can convince Paulson to let you go.”
“I don’t know, Tony. Paulson won’t go for it.”
“Sure he will. We only have two shipments today and they’re only running three lines. One shipment should be ready to load when we get there. The other one won’t be ready until around three. All we have to do until then is keep the lines stocked. If you work through lunch you could load the front of the lines up and when I get back all I’d have to do is just keep up with the packaging. You wouldn’t really be taking any time off, you’d just take lunch around 1:30 instead of 12. Maybe you might get back a little late but I’ll cover for you.”
I wanted to go. I just didn’t want to embarrass Joan in front of half the town. She might not care how I looked, but they would, and really, I looked about one step above homeless. Plus it was hard to work in a dog food factory without smelling like kibbles and bits by the end of the day. “No, I can’t. Look at me. I wouldn’t have any time to change. I didn’t even shave this morning. I look worse than yesterday. I can’t go like this.”
“Next thing you’ll ask me if those pants make your ass look big. Get real. Joan won’t give a shit what you’re wearing. What do you think she’d say if you told her you didn’t go to the funeral because you didn’t have anything to wear?”
I stared at the wipers slapping back and forth. I hated it when he was right, but he was right. I had to at least try. Maybe Paulson would go for it. If I was late getting back he could write me up if he wanted to. I hadn’t been in trouble since I started working there. One write up wasn’t going to hurt me. “I’ll have to borrow your car.”
“That’s fine. So you’re going to go?”
“If Paulson’s okay with it, yeah.”
Tony called Paulson over while I was still clocking in. I was almost hoping he would say no, but he surprised me and agreed with our plan. Now I just had to wait. It was strange working while everybody was in the break room eating lunch. I lined up pallets of flavor base, corn meal, and coloring by the mixers. By the time everybody started going back to work I could feel butterflies fighting each other in my stomach. I was nervous about going to the funeral. I’m an ex-con. I’d grown used to the stares and whispers, used to acting like I didn’t notice them, or that they didn’t bother me. Joan wasn’t. I didn’t know how she would react. It’s one thing to meet me at Tanner’s, but for her to be seen in public with me, at Jenny’s funeral no less, was something else. By the end of the day the whole town would be talking about us. About her. ‘Did you hear about Jenny’s sister?’ would be the way a lot of conversations started.
I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t made an honest mistake on an account. It was just a zero. Instead of $50, I charged a client $500. Unfortunately, it was Mr. Leighton’s account. I hated Mr. Leighton. I thought he was a pompous ass, greedy and arrogant, and frequently wished he would drop dead. Hopefully right in front of me. It if had been any other account I would have sent a nice letter explaining the discrepancy, complete with an enclosed check for $450. But it wasn’t any other account. It was Mr. Leighton’s account. By the time I noticed the error five months had passed. I decided if he hadn’t noticed by then I wasn’t going to say anything.
That was just the beginning. Maybe if I hadn’t already spent my childhood hacking into computers, and financed my college education by expanding that little hobby, it wouldn’t have been so easy to slip into a life of crime. Sure, technically I was already leading a life of crime, but there’s a big difference between convincing a computer to erase a bill, or changing a grade from a D to a B, and taking money from someone you know, someone who trusts you with their life’s savings, who invites you to birthdays and graduations. That’s what I did, and I paid for it. I just didn’t want Joan to pay for it, too.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
It Just Figures
Now that we're down one dog, one of our cats decided to get sick. We had to take Precious, the little girl cat, to the vet yesterday. She had a urinary infection and has a bunch of medicine and special food she has to eat.
On a brighter note, I went in my bathroom and saw the other cat, Smacks, standing on the toilet seat, clawing the back of the seat like he was in the litter pan. I didn't actually see him pee in the toilet, but he might have. I had another cat that used to pee in the toilet. I never taught him to do it, I just found out on accident. I was standing in the kitchen and heard water running and it was Manuel peeing in the toilet.
On another bright note, I talked The Girl and her friend into planting some flowers for me, and they found the smallest, baby preying mantis I've ever seen. It was so cute. Fast, too. We put it on a tomato plant in back.
Now that we're down one dog, one of our cats decided to get sick. We had to take Precious, the little girl cat, to the vet yesterday. She had a urinary infection and has a bunch of medicine and special food she has to eat.
On a brighter note, I went in my bathroom and saw the other cat, Smacks, standing on the toilet seat, clawing the back of the seat like he was in the litter pan. I didn't actually see him pee in the toilet, but he might have. I had another cat that used to pee in the toilet. I never taught him to do it, I just found out on accident. I was standing in the kitchen and heard water running and it was Manuel peeing in the toilet.
On another bright note, I talked The Girl and her friend into planting some flowers for me, and they found the smallest, baby preying mantis I've ever seen. It was so cute. Fast, too. We put it on a tomato plant in back.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Sassafras, Part 58
Joan
“I saw Rick was at the funeral,” Deana said after he left. “Did you keep him up all night or what?”
“Deana!”
“Well, he looked rough.”
“He had been working. He didn’t spend the night or anything. Lord knows I tried,” I admitted.
She laughed. “Tell me the truth, Joan. Are you really staying?”
“I don’t know. Bill wants to stay here, and Rick has to stay here. He told me last night he’s on parole. He can’t leave Missouri for four years. I don’t know what I’m going to do. If I don’t stay here, I might never see him again.” Just thinking about that was painful.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“A lot. I just don’t know how he feels. He says he wants me to stay, but we’ve never talked about what would happen if I do. What if I’m making a big mistake moving here?”
“The way he was looking at you at the funeral you’d be crazy not to move here.”
“What are you talking about? How was he looking at me?”
“Oh, are you blind? Like a puppy. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
I was silent for a minute. I remembered how good it felt to lean against him, to know he was there. What if he hadn’t been there? “What do you know about Rick, Deana?”
“I remember when he moved here. You should have heard the gossip. Everybody loves a bad boy.”
“But is he a bad boy? What do you think of him? Did you ever meet him?”
“I’ve seen him around town a lot, but I only met him twice. He was at the St. James parish picnic. Do you remember Tony and Mary Bellamy? Jenny used to baby-sit them. Tony lives in the same apartment complex as Rick. They were at the picnic with Tony’s girlfriend.”
“I met Tony last night. I didn’t even recognize him.”
“Well, no wonder, the last time you saw him he was what, 8, 10? I never would have thought Tony would end up in prison. He was always so quiet. Anyway, he was there with Tony’s girlfriend and their baby. I went over to see the baby and ended up sitting with them and watching this really lame band that was playing. They were so bad you couldn’t even understand what song they were playing half the time. Rick kept making up his own lyrics and singing along with them. It was hilarious.”
“Then I ended up trapped in Wal-Mart with him.”
“How can you get trapped in Wal-Mart?”
“There was a storm and the electric went out. They wouldn’t let anybody leave because the security buzzer thingy wouldn’t work. He helped keep Brian and Ashley from throwing a fit. He’s good at peek-a-boo.”
“Great. He can sing and play peek-a-boo. Everything you want in a boyfriend.”
Billy walked back in and sat down, handing me the paper. Peek-a-boo. That’s a talent I wouldn’t have expected.
“Well, I’d like to get a peek at his boo,” Deana laughed.
“My what?” Billy asked.
“Nobody wants to see your boo, little man,” Deana told him. “We were talking about Rick.”
“You want to see his boo? Wait till I tell him.”
”You will do no such thing,” I warned him.
“Oh, Aunt Jo, you’re no fun.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking. If you don’t want to move to New York I’m sure I can find a nice military school somewhere you could transfer to.”
Joan
“I saw Rick was at the funeral,” Deana said after he left. “Did you keep him up all night or what?”
“Deana!”
“Well, he looked rough.”
“He had been working. He didn’t spend the night or anything. Lord knows I tried,” I admitted.
She laughed. “Tell me the truth, Joan. Are you really staying?”
“I don’t know. Bill wants to stay here, and Rick has to stay here. He told me last night he’s on parole. He can’t leave Missouri for four years. I don’t know what I’m going to do. If I don’t stay here, I might never see him again.” Just thinking about that was painful.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“A lot. I just don’t know how he feels. He says he wants me to stay, but we’ve never talked about what would happen if I do. What if I’m making a big mistake moving here?”
“The way he was looking at you at the funeral you’d be crazy not to move here.”
“What are you talking about? How was he looking at me?”
“Oh, are you blind? Like a puppy. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
I was silent for a minute. I remembered how good it felt to lean against him, to know he was there. What if he hadn’t been there? “What do you know about Rick, Deana?”
“I remember when he moved here. You should have heard the gossip. Everybody loves a bad boy.”
“But is he a bad boy? What do you think of him? Did you ever meet him?”
“I’ve seen him around town a lot, but I only met him twice. He was at the St. James parish picnic. Do you remember Tony and Mary Bellamy? Jenny used to baby-sit them. Tony lives in the same apartment complex as Rick. They were at the picnic with Tony’s girlfriend.”
“I met Tony last night. I didn’t even recognize him.”
“Well, no wonder, the last time you saw him he was what, 8, 10? I never would have thought Tony would end up in prison. He was always so quiet. Anyway, he was there with Tony’s girlfriend and their baby. I went over to see the baby and ended up sitting with them and watching this really lame band that was playing. They were so bad you couldn’t even understand what song they were playing half the time. Rick kept making up his own lyrics and singing along with them. It was hilarious.”
“Then I ended up trapped in Wal-Mart with him.”
“How can you get trapped in Wal-Mart?”
“There was a storm and the electric went out. They wouldn’t let anybody leave because the security buzzer thingy wouldn’t work. He helped keep Brian and Ashley from throwing a fit. He’s good at peek-a-boo.”
“Great. He can sing and play peek-a-boo. Everything you want in a boyfriend.”
Billy walked back in and sat down, handing me the paper. Peek-a-boo. That’s a talent I wouldn’t have expected.
“Well, I’d like to get a peek at his boo,” Deana laughed.
“My what?” Billy asked.
“Nobody wants to see your boo, little man,” Deana told him. “We were talking about Rick.”
“You want to see his boo? Wait till I tell him.”
”You will do no such thing,” I warned him.
“Oh, Aunt Jo, you’re no fun.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking. If you don’t want to move to New York I’m sure I can find a nice military school somewhere you could transfer to.”
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Sassafras, Part 57
Joan
“Is it true?” I looked up as Deana slid into the booth next to Billy. “Are you really moving back to Sassafras?”
I sighed and leaned back in the booth. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Good God, I can’t imagine living here again. Is this place any better than it was when we were in school?”
“No. This town hasn’t exactly aged gracefully.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“You should see the school now. There are a lot of new subdivisions out here, so the school is overflowing, but there aren’t as many businesses, so there isn’t enough money to pay for everything. They keep trying to raise the taxes, but it never passes the ballot. The teacher’s all suck, too. I’m not looking forward to Brian starting school.”
“Gee, thanks, Deana. Now she’s never going to move back.”
“Sorry, Bill. It’s true and you know it. Your school sucks. Every weekend one group or another is having a car wash or a bake sale to raise money for band or football or whatever. If it wasn’t for the parents paying for everything we wouldn’t still have a football team.”
“Well, at least there aren’t any gangs or drug pushers at school. Not like New York, I’m sure.”
“Bill, there are a lot of good high schools in New York.”
Billy just rolled his eyes. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“See what I’ve been putting up with?”
“If you want to know the truth, I’m on Bill’s side.”
“What? Not you, too!”
“Well, I’ve lived here my whole life and I haven’t gone on a killing spree. Yet. Sometimes it’s a tempting idea. Isn’t there anything you miss about Sassafras? Or something you don’t like about New York?”
“No,” I snapped. Then I started thinking. “I miss gravel roads. Remember how we used to drive around all weekend? We never had any idea where we were going, we would just get in the car and start driving. Not a care in the world. Can you imagine how much that would cost now?”
“You wouldn’t recognize those roads now. The county paved over about half of them. So many people moved out here to get away from the city for the wide-open spaces that there aren’t any wide-open spaces left anymore.”
“There are plenty of wide open spaces around here,” Billy insisted. “Mom and I used to go camping all the time. Who wants gravel roads? You’re weird, Aunt Jo.”
“Oh, it wasn’t the gravel roads that I liked. It was just getting together with our friends and hanging out. The dust and the potholes I could have done without.”
“Well, now there aren’t any potholes, but I have friends. I don’t want to leave, Aunt Jo.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me before. We made a deal last night and I intend to keep it.”
“What deal?” Deana asked.
“She’s moving back here.”
“I said I might. If I can find a job.”
“You promised you’d find one. I’m going to walk over to the gas station and get a Sunday paper for you before you change your mind.”
“Hey, grab me a pack of cigarettes while you’re over there.”
”Aunt Jo, I’m only 15. I can’t buy cigarettes.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You can’t buy cigarettes, or alcohol, or drive, or vote, or take care of yourself. But you don’t need me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“See what I put up with?” I handed him a couple of dollars. “Go ahead, Bill, get me a paper.”
Joan
“Is it true?” I looked up as Deana slid into the booth next to Billy. “Are you really moving back to Sassafras?”
I sighed and leaned back in the booth. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Good God, I can’t imagine living here again. Is this place any better than it was when we were in school?”
“No. This town hasn’t exactly aged gracefully.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“You should see the school now. There are a lot of new subdivisions out here, so the school is overflowing, but there aren’t as many businesses, so there isn’t enough money to pay for everything. They keep trying to raise the taxes, but it never passes the ballot. The teacher’s all suck, too. I’m not looking forward to Brian starting school.”
“Gee, thanks, Deana. Now she’s never going to move back.”
“Sorry, Bill. It’s true and you know it. Your school sucks. Every weekend one group or another is having a car wash or a bake sale to raise money for band or football or whatever. If it wasn’t for the parents paying for everything we wouldn’t still have a football team.”
“Well, at least there aren’t any gangs or drug pushers at school. Not like New York, I’m sure.”
“Bill, there are a lot of good high schools in New York.”
Billy just rolled his eyes. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“See what I’ve been putting up with?”
“If you want to know the truth, I’m on Bill’s side.”
“What? Not you, too!”
“Well, I’ve lived here my whole life and I haven’t gone on a killing spree. Yet. Sometimes it’s a tempting idea. Isn’t there anything you miss about Sassafras? Or something you don’t like about New York?”
“No,” I snapped. Then I started thinking. “I miss gravel roads. Remember how we used to drive around all weekend? We never had any idea where we were going, we would just get in the car and start driving. Not a care in the world. Can you imagine how much that would cost now?”
“You wouldn’t recognize those roads now. The county paved over about half of them. So many people moved out here to get away from the city for the wide-open spaces that there aren’t any wide-open spaces left anymore.”
“There are plenty of wide open spaces around here,” Billy insisted. “Mom and I used to go camping all the time. Who wants gravel roads? You’re weird, Aunt Jo.”
“Oh, it wasn’t the gravel roads that I liked. It was just getting together with our friends and hanging out. The dust and the potholes I could have done without.”
“Well, now there aren’t any potholes, but I have friends. I don’t want to leave, Aunt Jo.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me before. We made a deal last night and I intend to keep it.”
“What deal?” Deana asked.
“She’s moving back here.”
“I said I might. If I can find a job.”
“You promised you’d find one. I’m going to walk over to the gas station and get a Sunday paper for you before you change your mind.”
“Hey, grab me a pack of cigarettes while you’re over there.”
”Aunt Jo, I’m only 15. I can’t buy cigarettes.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You can’t buy cigarettes, or alcohol, or drive, or vote, or take care of yourself. But you don’t need me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“See what I put up with?” I handed him a couple of dollars. “Go ahead, Bill, get me a paper.”
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Hi, My Name Is Ruth
Hi, my name is Ruth, and I'm an addict. I know what you're thinking, "Great, now we can hear cool crack or heroin stories instead of this Sassafras day after day." But no, the sad truth is I'm a book addict. I got my fix at the library the other day. They were talking about a book on NPR the other day, so I reserved it at the library. They sent me an email telling me to stop by and grab it. I just stopped for one book, and ended up with 5. Plus the book I was reading at the time, and the two The Girl have checked out that I want to read.
I love the library. Books everywhere. Big books, small books, books that have pictures, hard back, soft back. I can't believe anybody wouldn't love books, but The Man doesn't. He would be happy if the only book in the entire house was the phone book. And maybe a couple of car repair manuals, and some tool catalogs. I admit, I have a lot of books, but I wish I had more. I would like to have one of those giant old libraries that has a ladder that slides all along the wall. That would be cool.
Hi, my name is Ruth, and I'm an addict. I know what you're thinking, "Great, now we can hear cool crack or heroin stories instead of this Sassafras day after day." But no, the sad truth is I'm a book addict. I got my fix at the library the other day. They were talking about a book on NPR the other day, so I reserved it at the library. They sent me an email telling me to stop by and grab it. I just stopped for one book, and ended up with 5. Plus the book I was reading at the time, and the two The Girl have checked out that I want to read.
I love the library. Books everywhere. Big books, small books, books that have pictures, hard back, soft back. I can't believe anybody wouldn't love books, but The Man doesn't. He would be happy if the only book in the entire house was the phone book. And maybe a couple of car repair manuals, and some tool catalogs. I admit, I have a lot of books, but I wish I had more. I would like to have one of those giant old libraries that has a ladder that slides all along the wall. That would be cool.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Sassafras, Part 56
Joan
I didn’t want to go to Don’s afterwards, but I knew how hurt he would be if I just went home. I didn’t want to have to listen to any more meaningless condolences. I knew what a wonderful person Jenny was, I didn’t need the entire town reminding me, telling cute stories about her, showing me pictures of her. Deana tried to convince me to let her drive us to Don’s, but I lied and told her I was fine, even though I felt like driving off a cliff. Luckily, there weren’t any cliffs near Sassafras.
There was a big sign in Don’s window saying they were closed until 4. God, I hoped nobody expected me to sit there until 4. I really would start screaming by then. Don was waiting for me at the door when I walked up the steps. He looked like he had been crying. He said he would have been at the funeral, but he needed to make sure everything was ready for me here. Two ladies from Jenny’s church were poised behind the counter, ready to serve from trays and pans of food lined up in front of them. Don wouldn’t take no for an answer so I let them pile ham and potato salad on a plate.
Don and I slid into a booth. He started telling me a story about something Jenny had done years ago. I just nodded occasionally and looked out the window. The snow was coming down harder. I watched the grass disappear beneath the big wet flakes. I couldn’t imagine Jenny in the ground, covered with snow. I shuddered and looked away from the window. That was when I noticed Billy looking uncomfortable, standing near the door talking to his aunts from Phoenix. I heard one of them telling him how much he would like Phoenix. That sounded familiar.
“Excuse me, Don. I have to talk to somebody.” I got up and walked over to them.
“Aunt Jo, this is Aunt Sandy and Aunt Margie. They’re from Phoenix.”
“Yes, we met at the funeral. I hope you’re enjoying the weather. It never snows in Phoenix, does it?”
“Not very often, but it does happen,” Margie said.
Aunt Sandy nodded. “We were just telling Billy how nice the weather is in Phoenix. I think he’s going to like it there.”
“You do? What do you think, Bill? Do you want to go visit them sometime?”
“Visit? We want Billy to move there with us,” Sandy said. “Now that Jenny’s gone, he needs somebody to take care of him.”
“His name’s Bill,” I corrected her. “And he’s staying here in Sassafras with me.”
“But I thought you live in New York?”
“I’m moving back to Sassafras.”
“I know you mean well, Joan, but you just don’t have the experience you need. I have two boys Bill’s age….” Margie started.
“I mean well!” I interrupted her.
“You don’t know anything about taking care of a teenager. He needs a family, a mother and a father.”
”I think we’ll be just fine. I learn quick, and not having a father hasn’t hurt Bill yet.”
“Joan, you need to do what’s best for the boy,” Sandy chimed in.
“The boy!” They were both starting to really piss me off.
“My name is Bill.”
“Look, Billy, I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Margie said. “My husband and I want to take care of you. He’s a lawyer, and he already drew up the custody forms. They just need to be signed…”
“You have custody forms! Let me see them.” She took a large envelope out of her purse and passed it to me. I flipped through the papers that had been inside. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the two of them. That they thought they could just waltz into town the day of Jenny’s funeral and take Billy back to Phoenix with them was beyond belief. I ripped the papers two or three times and threw them at her. “You can take your custody papers and stuff them right up your ass. Bill’s the only family I have left and I’ll see you in hell before you take him away from me.”
Both their jaws dropped. The whole restaurant was silent. Margie recovered first. “I think it’s time to leave. Tell Mom and Dad I’m waiting in the car.” With that she turned and stormed out the door.
Sandy stood there for a second, a hurt and confused look on her face. “We, we were only trying to help,” she stammered. “We didn’t think… I’d better go.”
“Way to go, Aunt Jo!” Billy said after she walked away. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“I hope you didn’t want to move to Phoenix.”
“Hell no. We’re staying right here.” It was good seeing him smile.
“I still have to find a job, Bill. You might end up wishing you’d gone to Phoenix with Sandy and Margie.”
“I don’t think so.” We both sat down. “You need to do what’s best for the boy,” he mimicked Sandy and laughed. Don was over at the counter checking the food. I picked at my potato salad a little.
Joan
I didn’t want to go to Don’s afterwards, but I knew how hurt he would be if I just went home. I didn’t want to have to listen to any more meaningless condolences. I knew what a wonderful person Jenny was, I didn’t need the entire town reminding me, telling cute stories about her, showing me pictures of her. Deana tried to convince me to let her drive us to Don’s, but I lied and told her I was fine, even though I felt like driving off a cliff. Luckily, there weren’t any cliffs near Sassafras.
There was a big sign in Don’s window saying they were closed until 4. God, I hoped nobody expected me to sit there until 4. I really would start screaming by then. Don was waiting for me at the door when I walked up the steps. He looked like he had been crying. He said he would have been at the funeral, but he needed to make sure everything was ready for me here. Two ladies from Jenny’s church were poised behind the counter, ready to serve from trays and pans of food lined up in front of them. Don wouldn’t take no for an answer so I let them pile ham and potato salad on a plate.
Don and I slid into a booth. He started telling me a story about something Jenny had done years ago. I just nodded occasionally and looked out the window. The snow was coming down harder. I watched the grass disappear beneath the big wet flakes. I couldn’t imagine Jenny in the ground, covered with snow. I shuddered and looked away from the window. That was when I noticed Billy looking uncomfortable, standing near the door talking to his aunts from Phoenix. I heard one of them telling him how much he would like Phoenix. That sounded familiar.
“Excuse me, Don. I have to talk to somebody.” I got up and walked over to them.
“Aunt Jo, this is Aunt Sandy and Aunt Margie. They’re from Phoenix.”
“Yes, we met at the funeral. I hope you’re enjoying the weather. It never snows in Phoenix, does it?”
“Not very often, but it does happen,” Margie said.
Aunt Sandy nodded. “We were just telling Billy how nice the weather is in Phoenix. I think he’s going to like it there.”
“You do? What do you think, Bill? Do you want to go visit them sometime?”
“Visit? We want Billy to move there with us,” Sandy said. “Now that Jenny’s gone, he needs somebody to take care of him.”
“His name’s Bill,” I corrected her. “And he’s staying here in Sassafras with me.”
“But I thought you live in New York?”
“I’m moving back to Sassafras.”
“I know you mean well, Joan, but you just don’t have the experience you need. I have two boys Bill’s age….” Margie started.
“I mean well!” I interrupted her.
“You don’t know anything about taking care of a teenager. He needs a family, a mother and a father.”
”I think we’ll be just fine. I learn quick, and not having a father hasn’t hurt Bill yet.”
“Joan, you need to do what’s best for the boy,” Sandy chimed in.
“The boy!” They were both starting to really piss me off.
“My name is Bill.”
“Look, Billy, I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Margie said. “My husband and I want to take care of you. He’s a lawyer, and he already drew up the custody forms. They just need to be signed…”
“You have custody forms! Let me see them.” She took a large envelope out of her purse and passed it to me. I flipped through the papers that had been inside. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the two of them. That they thought they could just waltz into town the day of Jenny’s funeral and take Billy back to Phoenix with them was beyond belief. I ripped the papers two or three times and threw them at her. “You can take your custody papers and stuff them right up your ass. Bill’s the only family I have left and I’ll see you in hell before you take him away from me.”
Both their jaws dropped. The whole restaurant was silent. Margie recovered first. “I think it’s time to leave. Tell Mom and Dad I’m waiting in the car.” With that she turned and stormed out the door.
Sandy stood there for a second, a hurt and confused look on her face. “We, we were only trying to help,” she stammered. “We didn’t think… I’d better go.”
“Way to go, Aunt Jo!” Billy said after she walked away. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“I hope you didn’t want to move to Phoenix.”
“Hell no. We’re staying right here.” It was good seeing him smile.
“I still have to find a job, Bill. You might end up wishing you’d gone to Phoenix with Sandy and Margie.”
“I don’t think so.” We both sat down. “You need to do what’s best for the boy,” he mimicked Sandy and laughed. Don was over at the counter checking the food. I picked at my potato salad a little.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Olympic Fever
Mom and Dad are coming up and spending a couple of weeks. Coincidentally, I am going on vacation THIS SATURDAY!!!!!! So I decided that the Olypics are going to be June 17 and 18. That gives me a whole week off work to get ready. Of course, I don't think I'm going to have to do anything except spray paint some pennies. I'm going to have to go back and check what sports I wanted to have. All I can remember is thumb wrestling and Rock Paper Scissors. Oh, and Hobo Golf. And I remember I wanted to have a big scavenger hunt, too. I'm getting excited about it. It's going to be a weekend long party and fun fun fun!
I'm open to any suggestions for fun games to play.
Mom and Dad are coming up and spending a couple of weeks. Coincidentally, I am going on vacation THIS SATURDAY!!!!!! So I decided that the Olypics are going to be June 17 and 18. That gives me a whole week off work to get ready. Of course, I don't think I'm going to have to do anything except spray paint some pennies. I'm going to have to go back and check what sports I wanted to have. All I can remember is thumb wrestling and Rock Paper Scissors. Oh, and Hobo Golf. And I remember I wanted to have a big scavenger hunt, too. I'm getting excited about it. It's going to be a weekend long party and fun fun fun!
I'm open to any suggestions for fun games to play.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Sassafras, Part 55
Joan
“Come on, Babe, let’s get out of this rain before you catch pneumonia.” When we walked up to Billy Rick shook his hand. “How are you doing, Bill?” he asked.
“I’m okay. I’ll be glad when this is all over. Mom wouldn’t have liked any of this. She didn’t want anything fancy.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked him. “I could have planned something else.”
“It doesn’t matter, Aunt Jo. She’s never coming back.”
“Well, I didn’t know her very long, but I think Jenny would be proud of both of you,” Rick said. “I’ve seen enough families turn on each other at times like this, fighting and arguing over silverware and cars.”
“Well, it helps that Jenny didn’t have anything to argue over. If anybody wants her car they’re welcome to it. They can have her silverware, too.” People were pushing past us to get out of the rain. I still couldn’t believe how many people were there. It looked like it was going to be standing room only. “We might as well go inside now.”
When we walked in the chapel the funeral director walked us to the front row. It felt like everybody was staring at me, then I realized it wasn’t me, it was Rick they were looking at. “More of your fan club?” I whispered to him as we walked up the aisle.
“Guess so.” He looked down at the blue and green flannel shirt and faded jeans he was wearing, his work boots wet and muddy. “Maybe it would be better if I sat in back somewhere out of sight.”
“No.” I clutched his hand. I didn’t care what he was wearing, or that his jaw was covered with dark stubble, or that he smelled faintly like dog food. “Please.”
“Okay.” He squeezed my hand and slid into the pew next to me. Billy sat on my other side next to Katie. Thankfully, BJ sat on the far end, out of pinching range.
As far as funerals go, I suppose it was a success. If a funeral can be called a success. The preacher talked, someone from Jenny’s church sang a hymn, the preacher talked some more, someone else sang an even more depressing hymn, the preacher rambled on about Jesus. I kept wondering if someone sitting behind me was the person who killed Jenny. Had someone just made a terrible mistake and now they were so torn apart with guilt they would stand up and yell “I did it! I did it!” Or maybe someone killed her deliberately, out of jealousy or hate, and were pleased with themselves, sitting behind me trying not to smile because they thought they were getting away with it. They weren’t going to get away with it. I could feel in my bones that it hadn’t been an accident. The police were incompetent fools if they couldn’t see that.
I stared at Jenny’s casket until my eyes started blurring. For the first time I forgot about the questions I had about how she died and let the simple fact that she was gone fill my mind. I missed her so much I wanted to scream. Not cry. Crying would be too lady-like, too polite. I didn’t want to be polite. I wanted to scream loud, ear piercing, fingernails on a chalkboard screams. I wanted to cuss and throw things. But mostly I just wanted to scream. I wondered if I started screaming if I would ever be able to stop.
I noticed there were dark spots on my skirt. It took a while for me to realize they were water spots from the tears that were falling off my chin. When had I started crying? I didn’t want to cry. I felt like I had already cried enough since I got to Sassafras, but then I realized all those times I had been crying for myself. Greedy, selfish tears. This was the first time I was crying for Jenny, because I missed her and couldn’t imagine life going on without her, because I needed her advice and knew I would never be able to talk to her again. Rick handed me a box of tissues, but I just held it, not even aware what it was. Billy squeezed my hand, and I felt Rick put his arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t cry, Cousin Junebug,” Katie whispered loudly. “Cousin Jenny’s playing with the angels in heaven, just like my momma. You can hold my weenie if you want.” She held Puppy out to me and smiled. BJ wasn’t the only one who fought back laughter.
“Thanks, Katie.” I took Puppy from her and cradled him in my arms while Rick held me in his, stroking my hair and murmuring something soft and soothing. I don’t think I could have gotten through the funeral on my own.
When the service was finally over and they loaded Jenny in the hearse I noticed the rain had changed to sleet. Everything sparkled, covered in a shiny layer of ice. The cemetery was right in back of the funeral home, but most people just got in their cars and left. Only a handful of people drove to the gravesite. While we were all sitting on the cold metal folding chairs under a big white canopy the sleet changed to snow, big wet clumps that fell in slushy puddles.
It was hard saying goodbye to Rick back at the funeral home. I knew he had to go back to work, and I would see him again that night, but I didn’t want him to leave. I needed him, more than I ever thought possible. I stood in the parking lot watching him drive away, snow blowing against my face, until he was gone.
Joan
“Come on, Babe, let’s get out of this rain before you catch pneumonia.” When we walked up to Billy Rick shook his hand. “How are you doing, Bill?” he asked.
“I’m okay. I’ll be glad when this is all over. Mom wouldn’t have liked any of this. She didn’t want anything fancy.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked him. “I could have planned something else.”
“It doesn’t matter, Aunt Jo. She’s never coming back.”
“Well, I didn’t know her very long, but I think Jenny would be proud of both of you,” Rick said. “I’ve seen enough families turn on each other at times like this, fighting and arguing over silverware and cars.”
“Well, it helps that Jenny didn’t have anything to argue over. If anybody wants her car they’re welcome to it. They can have her silverware, too.” People were pushing past us to get out of the rain. I still couldn’t believe how many people were there. It looked like it was going to be standing room only. “We might as well go inside now.”
When we walked in the chapel the funeral director walked us to the front row. It felt like everybody was staring at me, then I realized it wasn’t me, it was Rick they were looking at. “More of your fan club?” I whispered to him as we walked up the aisle.
“Guess so.” He looked down at the blue and green flannel shirt and faded jeans he was wearing, his work boots wet and muddy. “Maybe it would be better if I sat in back somewhere out of sight.”
“No.” I clutched his hand. I didn’t care what he was wearing, or that his jaw was covered with dark stubble, or that he smelled faintly like dog food. “Please.”
“Okay.” He squeezed my hand and slid into the pew next to me. Billy sat on my other side next to Katie. Thankfully, BJ sat on the far end, out of pinching range.
As far as funerals go, I suppose it was a success. If a funeral can be called a success. The preacher talked, someone from Jenny’s church sang a hymn, the preacher talked some more, someone else sang an even more depressing hymn, the preacher rambled on about Jesus. I kept wondering if someone sitting behind me was the person who killed Jenny. Had someone just made a terrible mistake and now they were so torn apart with guilt they would stand up and yell “I did it! I did it!” Or maybe someone killed her deliberately, out of jealousy or hate, and were pleased with themselves, sitting behind me trying not to smile because they thought they were getting away with it. They weren’t going to get away with it. I could feel in my bones that it hadn’t been an accident. The police were incompetent fools if they couldn’t see that.
I stared at Jenny’s casket until my eyes started blurring. For the first time I forgot about the questions I had about how she died and let the simple fact that she was gone fill my mind. I missed her so much I wanted to scream. Not cry. Crying would be too lady-like, too polite. I didn’t want to be polite. I wanted to scream loud, ear piercing, fingernails on a chalkboard screams. I wanted to cuss and throw things. But mostly I just wanted to scream. I wondered if I started screaming if I would ever be able to stop.
I noticed there were dark spots on my skirt. It took a while for me to realize they were water spots from the tears that were falling off my chin. When had I started crying? I didn’t want to cry. I felt like I had already cried enough since I got to Sassafras, but then I realized all those times I had been crying for myself. Greedy, selfish tears. This was the first time I was crying for Jenny, because I missed her and couldn’t imagine life going on without her, because I needed her advice and knew I would never be able to talk to her again. Rick handed me a box of tissues, but I just held it, not even aware what it was. Billy squeezed my hand, and I felt Rick put his arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t cry, Cousin Junebug,” Katie whispered loudly. “Cousin Jenny’s playing with the angels in heaven, just like my momma. You can hold my weenie if you want.” She held Puppy out to me and smiled. BJ wasn’t the only one who fought back laughter.
“Thanks, Katie.” I took Puppy from her and cradled him in my arms while Rick held me in his, stroking my hair and murmuring something soft and soothing. I don’t think I could have gotten through the funeral on my own.
When the service was finally over and they loaded Jenny in the hearse I noticed the rain had changed to sleet. Everything sparkled, covered in a shiny layer of ice. The cemetery was right in back of the funeral home, but most people just got in their cars and left. Only a handful of people drove to the gravesite. While we were all sitting on the cold metal folding chairs under a big white canopy the sleet changed to snow, big wet clumps that fell in slushy puddles.
It was hard saying goodbye to Rick back at the funeral home. I knew he had to go back to work, and I would see him again that night, but I didn’t want him to leave. I needed him, more than I ever thought possible. I stood in the parking lot watching him drive away, snow blowing against my face, until he was gone.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Sassafras, Part 54
Joan
It was raining when I woke up. I could see the water running down the windowpane. No sun today. Everything was gray and lifeless. The trees with their empty branches, the weathered lattice trellis with bare vines twisted in wild tangles, everything looked dead.
We got to the funeral home at 1:00. I met the preacher of the Methodist church Jenny went to, a tall woman with gray hair piled in a swirl on top of her head. I remembered her from the wake, but I couldn’t remember her name. Billy knew her, so I let him talk to her while I just stood staring at Jenny lying in her casket, wishing none of this had happened. Of all the people in the world to die, why did it have to be Jenny? There were plenty of other people in Sassafras that could have died and I wouldn’t have cared a bit, but it had to be Jenny.
Billy touched my arm. “Are you okay, Aunt Jo? Come on, why don’t you have a cigarette before everybody else shows up.” A cigarette. Yes, that sounded good. I noticed I was having trouble concentrating. It felt like my mind was on vacation. But a cigarette, yes, that sounded good.
The funeral home was one of those non-smoking buildings, so we had to get our coats and sit outside in a little covered entryway. I was shaking a little when I lit my cigarette, but damn it felt nice once I had it lit. Rick didn’t like me smoking. He never said anything, but I could see how the corner of his lips pulled down just a little every time I lit a cigarette, the way his eyes narrowed when he watched the smoke drift out of the ashtray. I knew I should quit, but not today.
After a few minutes people started to show up. Most of them just nodded and walked by, maybe said a quick hello. Billy’s grandparents and a couple of aunts from Phoenix made it to the funeral. Uncle Sam showed up with my two cousins. I wasn’t prepared to see Katie. She had always seemed odd to me when I was little, but I was younger than her and we never really knew each other. As soon as I saw her face, her large forehead, her innocent smile, I could tell she had Down’s Syndrome. BJ looked just like his father, blond and blue-eyed, but he looked bored and uncomfortable.
“Hi, Uncle Sam. Katie, BJ, it’s nice to see you.”
“Hi, Aunt Junebug!” Katie beamed at me.
“No, Katie, she’s not your aunt, she’s your cousin.” Uncle Sam gently corrected her.
“Oh.” She thought a minute. “Hi, Cousin Junebug! I have a puppy!” She held a floppy brown stuffed animal up for me to see. “His name’s Puppy. He’s a weenie dog.” I could see BJ roll his eyes. That was when I remembered what an ass he had been when we were little, always the first one to get in trouble at family gatherings, usually because he made somebody else cry. Several times it had been me, but now I remembered how often it had been Katie that ran away crying.
“What a beautiful dog. Weenie dogs have always been my favorite.”
“They’re my favorite, too! I love weenies!” Uncle Sam shot BJ a look that wiped the smirk off his face.
“And I see you’re just as charming as when we were little, BJ. Make any little girls cry lately? Besides Katie?”
“No, as a matter of fact I’ve been too busy pulling the wings off flies to make little girls cry. Maybe later.”
“Thanks for the warning. I told the funeral director you were coming, Uncle Sam. You’re going to sit up front with Billy and me if you want to go ahead and go in.”
“Okay. I’ll see you inside, Junebug.” They walked past us, Katie rubbing Puppy softly against her cheek.
I was sitting on a little wooden bench, leaning back and watching the rain dripping off the edge of the awning, finishing my cigarette, when Billy tapped my shoulder. “Hey, Aunt Jo, look.”
He was pointing toward the parking lot. I turned and saw another couple walking up. I didn’t recognize them, and was about to ask Billy who they were, when I noticed there was a man walking a little behind them. A man who looked like Rick. A lot like Rick. I couldn’t believe it. It was Rick. Maybe my mind was on vacation, but my body knew what to do. I was up and running and before I knew it I was in his arms.
“Rick! You’re here!” I still couldn’t believe he was there, even though I could see him and feel him.
He leaned over and kissed me. “Surprised?”
“Yes!” I slipped my arms around his waist and held on tight. “You came! Wait!” I pulled away from him. “You’re supposed to be at work. You’re going to get in trouble!”
“No, it’s okay. I convinced my boss to let me take a late lunch so I could be with you. I won’t be able to go to Don’s, and I might have to stay a little after work, but I had to come. Are you happy?”
“Happy? I’m overjoyed! I can’t believe you came!”
“It was Tony’s idea, actually. For some crazy reason he thinks I’m sweet on you. I think he’s right.”
It was that moment, standing in the cold rain, crushed up against Rick’s chest by the mother of all bear hugs, that my heart completely melted. Maybe my mind still wanted to stay in New York, but my heart had other plans. I knew there was no way I was going back to New York. Sure, I’d go back and get my clothes and books, my cats, say goodbye to the few people who seemed to notice I was alive, but I wasn’t staying. I would probably still argue and fuss about it, try to convince myself it would be safer to stay in New York. I’m just stubborn that way. But I knew it wouldn’t work. If there was a death match between Rick and the Big Apple, Rick would get rich selling applesauce by the time it was over.
Joan
It was raining when I woke up. I could see the water running down the windowpane. No sun today. Everything was gray and lifeless. The trees with their empty branches, the weathered lattice trellis with bare vines twisted in wild tangles, everything looked dead.
We got to the funeral home at 1:00. I met the preacher of the Methodist church Jenny went to, a tall woman with gray hair piled in a swirl on top of her head. I remembered her from the wake, but I couldn’t remember her name. Billy knew her, so I let him talk to her while I just stood staring at Jenny lying in her casket, wishing none of this had happened. Of all the people in the world to die, why did it have to be Jenny? There were plenty of other people in Sassafras that could have died and I wouldn’t have cared a bit, but it had to be Jenny.
Billy touched my arm. “Are you okay, Aunt Jo? Come on, why don’t you have a cigarette before everybody else shows up.” A cigarette. Yes, that sounded good. I noticed I was having trouble concentrating. It felt like my mind was on vacation. But a cigarette, yes, that sounded good.
The funeral home was one of those non-smoking buildings, so we had to get our coats and sit outside in a little covered entryway. I was shaking a little when I lit my cigarette, but damn it felt nice once I had it lit. Rick didn’t like me smoking. He never said anything, but I could see how the corner of his lips pulled down just a little every time I lit a cigarette, the way his eyes narrowed when he watched the smoke drift out of the ashtray. I knew I should quit, but not today.
After a few minutes people started to show up. Most of them just nodded and walked by, maybe said a quick hello. Billy’s grandparents and a couple of aunts from Phoenix made it to the funeral. Uncle Sam showed up with my two cousins. I wasn’t prepared to see Katie. She had always seemed odd to me when I was little, but I was younger than her and we never really knew each other. As soon as I saw her face, her large forehead, her innocent smile, I could tell she had Down’s Syndrome. BJ looked just like his father, blond and blue-eyed, but he looked bored and uncomfortable.
“Hi, Uncle Sam. Katie, BJ, it’s nice to see you.”
“Hi, Aunt Junebug!” Katie beamed at me.
“No, Katie, she’s not your aunt, she’s your cousin.” Uncle Sam gently corrected her.
“Oh.” She thought a minute. “Hi, Cousin Junebug! I have a puppy!” She held a floppy brown stuffed animal up for me to see. “His name’s Puppy. He’s a weenie dog.” I could see BJ roll his eyes. That was when I remembered what an ass he had been when we were little, always the first one to get in trouble at family gatherings, usually because he made somebody else cry. Several times it had been me, but now I remembered how often it had been Katie that ran away crying.
“What a beautiful dog. Weenie dogs have always been my favorite.”
“They’re my favorite, too! I love weenies!” Uncle Sam shot BJ a look that wiped the smirk off his face.
“And I see you’re just as charming as when we were little, BJ. Make any little girls cry lately? Besides Katie?”
“No, as a matter of fact I’ve been too busy pulling the wings off flies to make little girls cry. Maybe later.”
“Thanks for the warning. I told the funeral director you were coming, Uncle Sam. You’re going to sit up front with Billy and me if you want to go ahead and go in.”
“Okay. I’ll see you inside, Junebug.” They walked past us, Katie rubbing Puppy softly against her cheek.
I was sitting on a little wooden bench, leaning back and watching the rain dripping off the edge of the awning, finishing my cigarette, when Billy tapped my shoulder. “Hey, Aunt Jo, look.”
He was pointing toward the parking lot. I turned and saw another couple walking up. I didn’t recognize them, and was about to ask Billy who they were, when I noticed there was a man walking a little behind them. A man who looked like Rick. A lot like Rick. I couldn’t believe it. It was Rick. Maybe my mind was on vacation, but my body knew what to do. I was up and running and before I knew it I was in his arms.
“Rick! You’re here!” I still couldn’t believe he was there, even though I could see him and feel him.
He leaned over and kissed me. “Surprised?”
“Yes!” I slipped my arms around his waist and held on tight. “You came! Wait!” I pulled away from him. “You’re supposed to be at work. You’re going to get in trouble!”
“No, it’s okay. I convinced my boss to let me take a late lunch so I could be with you. I won’t be able to go to Don’s, and I might have to stay a little after work, but I had to come. Are you happy?”
“Happy? I’m overjoyed! I can’t believe you came!”
“It was Tony’s idea, actually. For some crazy reason he thinks I’m sweet on you. I think he’s right.”
It was that moment, standing in the cold rain, crushed up against Rick’s chest by the mother of all bear hugs, that my heart completely melted. Maybe my mind still wanted to stay in New York, but my heart had other plans. I knew there was no way I was going back to New York. Sure, I’d go back and get my clothes and books, my cats, say goodbye to the few people who seemed to notice I was alive, but I wasn’t staying. I would probably still argue and fuss about it, try to convince myself it would be safer to stay in New York. I’m just stubborn that way. But I knew it wouldn’t work. If there was a death match between Rick and the Big Apple, Rick would get rich selling applesauce by the time it was over.
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