Sassafras, Part 27

Joan


I looked at him, and knew I didn’t want him to leave. It didn’t make any sense, and I knew it. If I found out a man was an ex-con in New York I would have run away screaming. Why was I even thinking about letting him stay? Was I so desperate for a man that even a prison record didn’t bother me? Maybe it was a mistake, but I let him stay. We went inside and I started rummaging around in the kitchen. "I don't know what we're going to have," I said. "I went to the nursing home where my mom is this afternoon and it depressed me so much I forgot all about inviting you over."

"We could go out if you want," he said. "Or we could just order a pizza or something."

"I don't feel much like going out tonight. Maybe a pizza would be a good idea. You're probably lucky I forgot you were coming. I'm a horrible cook." I was glad he suggested we could just order a pizza. I lived on take-out and delivery in New York. The only things I ever cooked at home were coffee and microwave popcorn. I finally found the phone book under the couch and called a couple of pizza places until I found one that delivered to Sassafras.

After I got off the phone I went to the bathroom. I was a mess. I fixed my make-up and brushed the tangles out of my hair. What was I doing, I wondered while I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had been absolutely furious when Sara told me he was an ex-con, and now I was worried about my make-up. I should be in there keeping an eye on him. When I went back in the living room he was looking at the computer, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to decide if it was worth stealing. I couldn't get over the fact that he was an ex-con. I kept telling myself ex, ex, he's an ex-con. That doesn't mean he's a hardened criminal. He walked around the living room, looking at all the pictures on the wall. He asked me about a picture of me hanging over the TV, and I ended up talking about work again. It seemed like that was the only thing I was comfortable talking about.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked. "I think there is some beer in the fridge."

"Sure," he said. I went in the kitchen and got a couple of beers, then came back and sat down next to him on the couch. When I turned and handed him one I noticed a dark bruise on his temple.

“What happened to you? Did I do that to you?” I asked and reached up to touch it but he pulled away.

“You didn’t do it, Slugger,” he said. “It’s nothing, just a little bruise.”

“Hold still,” I said and held his chin in one hand while I ran my fingers around the edge of the bruise. It wasn’t very big, but swollen and tender. “Let me get some ice for that,” I said and went back in the kitchen. I put some ice in a sandwich bag and wrapped a washcloth around it, then sat down next to him, tucking my feet up under my skirt. “What happened?” I asked and pressed the ice pack to his temple.

“Oh, that feels good,” he said. “It’s nothing. Sneider wanted to show a hold to the rookie, Thompson, and decided to demonstrate on me. I decided to show Thompson how to get out of the hold, but we both fell down and I hit my head on a desk.” He closed his eyes for a minute, then looked over at me. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know. A little.”

“I really thought you knew. You even wrote Bowling Green in your little book.”

“What little book?”

“That calendar in your purse. You started taking notes last night.”

“What?” I handed him the icepack and walked into the kitchen. I pulled my planner out of my purse and flipped through it, “Oh my God,” I gasped, reading things I didn’t even remember writing. “Oh, shit.” I looked over at him and snapped it shut. “You didn’t read this, did you?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Oh, no.” I opened it and flipped through it again. How could I have written all this? How could I have let him read it? “Oh my God. I’m so embarrassed. You read this? All of it?”

“I especially liked the parts you underlined,” he teased.

I looked back down at it, looking at how much I had underlined. “Oh, my, God,” I repeated, holding my hand up to my face. “Rick, I didn’t…. I mean, I don’t… Oh, shit.”

“Are you going to just stand in the kitchen cussing like a sailor all night, or are you going to come back here and sit down?”

I started walking back into the living room, but stopped about halfway. “Rick, I don’t want you to think I usually act like I did last night. I don’t know what happened. I never act like that.”

“I know you don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I could tell by the things you said, the things you did.”

“What do you mean? What did I say? What did I do?”

“Well, you said you don’t usually go around kissing strange men. That was a pretty good clue. Come here and sit down and I’ll tell you all about last night.”

I stood there for another minute before I had the courage to start walking again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know all about last night. “That’s another way I can tell you’re not a real party girl,” he said when I sat down.

“What do you mean?”

“If you were the kind of woman who goes around picking up men in bars you wouldn’t be sitting all the way over there hugging the armrest.”

“It’s comfortable here,” I said. “There’s something to lean up against.”

“You could lean up against me. You did last night.” I remembered leaning against him last night. It felt so nice, so right. He slid over next to me. “Is it still comfortable over here?”

“Yes, fine,” I said, but I wasn’t comfortable at all anymore. His arm was lying across the back of the couch now, his hand resting right in back of my shoulder. I remembered feeling his arm around me, how strong his arm felt, how warm his hand was. I looked down at my planner and thought about all the things I wrote about him in it. And he read it. My God, I just wanted to die. “So, did I do anything embarrassing last night? Besides write all this?”

“Well, I wasn’t embarrassed,” he said. “I was kind of surprised when you got up on the pool table and started dancing, and then when you started playing the piano and singing show tunes people started staring.”

“I was dancing on the pool table!” I was horrified, but I didn’t remember that at all. “Wait a minute, I don’t know how to play the piano. Hey, there isn’t even a piano at Tanner’s!” He was looking at me and smiling like he just won the lottery. “You’re making fun of me now, aren’t you?” I asked and thumped him on the forehead with my planner. Unfortunately, his reflexes were better than I anticipated and he pulled it out of my hand.

“Give that back to me,” I demanded and tried to grab it, but he held it just out of reach. “That’s mine! Give it back,” I insisted and leaned over him to try and get it.

“Okay, okay, you can have it back,” he said, but when he gave it to me I felt something cold and wet crunch under my knee. I squealed and jumped even farther across him. The ice pack was scattered all across the cushion. I lost my balance, but I felt his arms reach for me, holding me up. I realized I had wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my planner lying forgotten on the floor.

I felt his arms move, and instead of being frozen in mid-leap I was suddenly just sitting in his lap, like it happened all the time. At first I was too surprised to move. He looked at me like he was waiting to see what I was going to do next. Hell if I knew. I might not have still been in mid-leap, but I was still frozen. Just more comfortable. That was the first thing I really noticed, how comfortable it felt. My left arm was draped over his shoulder still, and his arms were wrapped loosely around my waist. My right arm had fallen off his shoulder, and my hand was resting on his chest. I was still nervous, but then I thought of what Maria said. Even though there was no way I was rubbing his belly like a German Shepard, just thinking about it made me relax a little.

It was strange, but knowing he was an ex-con was actually a relief. He wasn’t perfect. I remembered the first thing that I thought of when Maria asked about him was those statues at the museum, each one up on a pedestal, perfect and untouchable, but he was just a normal man, with flaws and bad habits and insecurities of his own. I noticed his nose was a little crooked, and wondered if he had been in an accident, or maybe a fight in prison like in the movies. He had gray hair that I never noticed, too, just a little sprinkled here and there, and tiny wrinkles around the corners of his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I wondered how old he was.

Sassafras, Part 26

Joan


It was starting to get dark when I pulled into the driveway at Jenny's. I just sat there for a minute before going inside. I was almost at the door when I heard somebody call my name. It was Sara from across the street. “Joan! How are you?”

“Oh, hello,” I said as I turned and started walking back down the driveway. “I’m okay. How is everything with you, Sara?”

“Everything’s fine. Bill’s down in the basement with my boys. They’ve been killing aliens or Russian spies or something on their Playstation all afternoon. I was just finishing dinner when I saw you pull up. I have a great big pot of stew on the stove. Is it okay if Bill stays for dinner? You can come over, too, if you want. I have plenty.”

It wasn’t until she mentioned dinner that I remembered about Rick coming over. I had been so upset after seeing Mom I forgot all about stopping at the grocery store. It looked like we were going to be having toast after all. I wondered if there was time for me to get something from Don’s. Maybe there was something in the freezer I could throw in the oven. “Sure, Billy can eat at your place, but I actually invited somebody from the police station over for dinner tonight. I ought to get in and start cooking something.”

“Okay, maybe we can do something tomorrow night. Who did you invite?”

“Rick. I don’t remember his last name.”

“Rick? There isn’t any police officer in town named Rick. What does he look like?”

“He has black hair and a mustache. He has a little blue car. Rick.”

Sara chewed on her fingernail for a second, then snapped her fingers. “About this tall?” she asked, lifting her hand up a little over her head. “Real nice looking?”

“Yeah, that’s Rick,” I said.

“He’s not a policeman,” she laughed. “His name’s Rick Gilbert, he works for Phil at the factory. He’s an ex-con.”

“He’s a what?” She had to be joking. I talked to him in the police station just that afternoon.

“An ex-con. He just got out of prison about six months ago. He hangs out with the police a lot, but if he told you he was a cop he was lying.”

“No,” I said. “He’s…. No, I just talked to him. His name’s Rick.” I didn’t know what to think.

“Right, Rick” Sara agreed. “Phil works with a church group that finds jobs for ex-cons to help them get on their feet when they get out of prison. Phil says the ex-cons are the best employees he has. They appreciate having a job. They know they have to toe the line, so they behave better than the temps that work there. The temps don’t care if they get fired. They can just get another temp job somewhere else.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. She had to be wrong. Not Rick.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “Rick came in while Phil and I were at Tanner’s a month or so ago. He had a beer with us before we left. He was really nice. Funny, too, but yeah, he’s an ex-con.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know. Phil doesn’t talk about the ex-cons very much, but he said Rick stole some money.”

“Oh,” I said. I couldn’t believe it. Rick was just another snake in a long line of snakes and weasels. Maria’s mom was right. Men are pigs. No toast for you, I thought. I told Sara I had to go and started walking back across the street. When I got inside I just leaned back against the door and tried not to cry.

How could I have been so stupid? Why did I think my luck would change now, of all times? It just made sense that he turned out to be an ex-con. He had more in common with Colonel Hogan than I had realized. And I kissed him. The thought made my skin crawl. Then I remembered he drove me home last night. After I warned Jenny not to take rides with strangers when her car broke down, I got in a car with an ex-con. I was lucky I made it home that night. He knows where I live, too. I would never be able to sleep tonight.

I thought of what Sara said. He was a thief. I wondered what had he done. He seemed too smooth to rob liquor stores. He was probably a bank robber or something. I could picture him walking up to the teller, smiling while he handed her the note saying he had a gun in his pocket. I thought for a minute I was going to be sick.

What was I going to tell Maria? I definitely wasn’t going to tell her the truth. It was just too embarrassing to be real. I decided I had to kill him. He would die in the line of duty, right before he was supposed to show up tonight. I’d tell her he died trying to stop a bank robber. That was as close to the truth as she needed to get. I couldn’t wait until he showed up. He was going to be sorry he ever met me. Just as sorry as I was that I ever met him.

I was pacing back and forth in the living room when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I looked out the front window and saw Rick getting out of his car. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. I had never slapped anybody, never in my life, but I slapped him. When he walked up to the door I slapped him so hard my hand hurt, and it felt good. I saw the look on his face and wanted to laugh, but I was too angry to laugh. He had the nerve to act innocent, and that just made me madder.

He tried to talk his way out of it, but I was too smart for that. He even acted like I should have already known all about it, just because the waitress last night mentioned he was from Bowling Green. How was I supposed to know there was a prison in Bowling Green? I didn’t even know where Bowling Green was. Eventually he had to admit he was just a liar and a thief. Then he tried to make me feel sorry for him. ‘Trust me. I’ve changed. I’m sorry.’ I bet he was sorry. He was sorry I found out. I finally told him he had to leave.

I watched him turn and start to walk away. I expected to feel better than I did. I thought watching him leave would have made me feel powerful, on top of the world, but it didn’t. He looked so sad, like he might never smile again. Before I knew it I was following him down the driveway, telling him to wait. I asked him if he really thought I knew, and he said yes. Was I so mad because he had been in prison, or just because he hadn’t told me? I tried to imagine what it must be like living in a small town like Sassafras with something like that in his past. He was probably the main topic of conversation for a solid week after he moved in. Mothers probably warned their children about him, like he was something contagious. He probably did think I already knew all about it.

Sassafras, Part 25

Joan



It took an hour to get to The Home. It wasn’t until I was halfway there that I realized I had left Jenny’s memory chips with Sneider. Oh, well. I didn’t have her camera, so what good were they? When I got to The Home, I parked in the almost-empty parking lot and trudged into a dingy waiting room. The aide working the desk called the head nurse, an older, overweight woman with short gray hair and thick glasses named Mrs. Britterman.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weaver," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon. I need to see my mother," I said. "I'm afraid I have bad news for her. My sister died a couple of days ago."

"Not Jenny?" she asked.

"Yes, did you know her?"

"Oh, yes. She used to come see her mother about once a month. She's such a sweet girl. Was she ill long?"

"No, it was a hit and run accident Monday night."

"Oh, dear. That's such a shame," Mrs. Britterman said. "We all loved her here."

Oh, I'm sure you did, I thought. Everybody loved Jenny. Saint Jenny. "Could you tell me which room is my mom's?" I asked her.

"Sure, dear. I'll take you there myself, but I don't think your mother will understand anything. She hasn't been the same since the last stroke."

"She had another stroke?" I asked.

"Why, yes, she had two since she moved in here. The last one was three months ago. Didn't you know?"

"No, Jenny never told me." I tried to think of when was the last time I talked to Jenny. It hadn't been three months had it? No, it had just been a few weeks ago. She just never told me.

"I guess she just didn't want to worry you," Mrs. Britterman said. "She was so proud of you, off in the big city. She used to tell us all about you. Here we are."

She opened a door. "I'll leave you two alone," she said. "Stop at the desk before you leave and let us know where to send flowers."

I walked inside. I don’t know what she meant about leaving us alone. There were two other women in the room with my mom. The young woman was gone. I wondered what had happened to her. There was an old black woman, with hardly any hair, and a white woman with so much make-up on she looked like a clown. They both watched as I walked in.

Mom was lying in bed, looking out the window. She looked bad. She was thin, and her hair was dirty. The right side of her face was slack and her right eye was closed. She turned and faced me when I sat down next to her. “Hi, Mom,” I said, but she looked right past me. “It’s me, Joan. I miss you, Mom.” I didn’t know how to tell her Jenny was dead. I guess there isn’t a good way to break something like that. “Mom, I have some bad news for you.” She nodded a couple of times, and then waved at me. The clown lady kept staring at me, paying more attention to what I was saying than Mom did.

“Mom, Jenny was in an accident Monday night. Jenny died, Mom. She’s not going to be coming to visit you anymore.” I could have been reading the phone book to her, for all the impression it seemed to make on her. “Mom, do you understand what I’m saying? Jenny’s dead.” I could hear the little black lady start quoting scriptures to herself. I wished they would both leave us alone. It was hard enough telling Mom about Jenny without having them watching. “I just thought you should know. The funeral is Sunday. I wish you could come. I think Jenny would have wanted you there.”

I could tell Mom didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. She was just staring at the window. I couldn’t even tell if she knew who I was. What was I doing there? What was Mom doing there? I remembered the last time I saw her before her stroke. I came back to Sassafras for my 10 year high school reunion. It was just three months before her stroke. She was a cashier at a big grocery store in Bond. She went out with the other cashiers all the time, going to bars and casinos, acting more like she was my age than I did. I stayed at her house the whole weekend I was in town, and only saw her three times because she was always working or out doing something with her friends. I couldn’t believe it when Jenny called and said Mom was in the hospital. And now she was just lying in bed, staring out the window. I barely got out of her room before I started crying. As the door closed I heard one of the other women say goodbye, but I couldn’t tell which one it was.

I was almost at the front door when I heard Mrs. Britterman call my name. “Miss Weaver! Miss Weaver!” I wiped my eyes before I turned around. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. There are some papers I need you to sign. Now that Jenny’s gone, you’re Mrs. Weaver’s legal guardian. We need to change our paperwork, and have you sign some forms.”

I remembered when Mom went in The Home, Jenny was named legal guardian, and I was put down as alternative in case anything happened to Jenny. I hadn’t thought about it since then. Mrs. Britterman led me to her office and we sat down. She had a very tidy office, nothing on her desk but a calendar, a picture of a man I assumed was her husband, and an African violet. She pulled a folder out of a cabinet next to her desk and opened it up, then took some papers out of a drawer in her desk. “These are the papers I need you to fill out,” she said as she passed them to me. “Just simple questions. We need to know where to send your mother’s bills, how to contact you if anything happens to her. While you’re here you might as well pay this bill for the hairdresser from two weeks ago. We like our guests to look their best, you know.”

I just looked at her, shocked that she could say such a thing. My mother had looked anything but her best. I looked at the bill. $45 for a haircut. There was no way I was paying that, I thought, but then realized it didn’t really matter anyway. Mom wasn’t staying in this shit hole. I was going to get her transferred to a home somewhere in New York, where I could visit her and keep an eye on everything. Just like Jenny, I thought. I filled out all the paperwork and wrote a check for the hairdresser. I wanted to put a few choice words in the memo section of the check, but decided not to. It wouldn’t do any good, and wouldn’t really make me feel any better. Mrs. Britterman had the secretary make copies of everything for me, and then I was finally able to leave. I looked at the papers after I got in Jenny’s car. Maybe now I would finally be able to get into Jenny’s box at the bank, but that would have to wait until tomorrow because the bank would be closed by the time I got back to Sassafras.

Oh, Hell No!

The Girl likes to pamper her hair. Curling, coloring, straightening, conditioning, etc. Sometimes she uses hot oil conditioners. The last time she bought a box she got something else instead. It looks like a pack of hot oil conditioners, but it's not. It's placenta treatment. As in afterbirth. Ewwwwwwww. Made with real animal placentas. It doesn't mention what sort of animal, but it does say it's cruelty free. And you aren't supposed to rinse it out. You shampoo your hair and then smear this animal placenta in and leave it there. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't really want dried up animal placenta in my hair. I just wonder what my dogs and cats would think about it. They would probably like it.

Sassafras, Part 24


Joan


I was nervous. I couldn’t believe I invited Rick over for dinner. I didn’t remember inviting him, but if he knew about toast I must have. Toast. I was going to kill Maria. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse before I got in the car. “Is Maria Torres in?” I asked when someone answered the phone.

“One moment, please.” I was only on hold for a second and then Maria came on the phone.

“Maria, you are in so much trouble,” I told her.

“Joan? What happened?”

“Does toast ring a bell?”

“What are you talking about, Joan?”

“Men are pigs, they’ll eat toast and like it. Remember?”

“Yes, I remember. What happened, Joan?”

I had to take a deep breath first. “I met somebody,” I said.

“A man?”

“No, a German Shepherd. I’m going to rub his belly and then we’re playing fetch. Yes, a man. I invited him over for dinner. Maria, I invited him over for toast and he said okay.”

I heard her start laughing. “Maria, this isn’t funny. I don’t know what to do. I can’t cook. The only thing I can cook is chocolate chip cookies.”

“And toast,” she said. “Calm down, calm down. This isn’t a tragedy, it’s only dinner. Is there a grocery store there that sells those roasted chickens already cooked and ready to eat?”

“I don’t know. Not here in Sassafras. I have to go to Bond and see my mom, there’s probably one there.”

“Okay, all you have to do is get one of those chickens, put it in a pan and stick it in the oven and he’ll never know. Get one of those bags of pre-mixed salads and throw a can of vegetables on the stove and you have instant dinner. Now, tell me about this man. Is he good looking?”

I thought about Rick. “Remember those statues I told you about at the art museum?”

“Way to go, Joan! What’s his name?”

“Rick. He’s a policeman.”

“Ooh, a man in uniform.”

“No, he was wearing regular clothes. I guess he must be a detective, or maybe he works undercover.”

“Maybe he’ll do a little undercover work tonight?”

For a second I was speechless. “Maria! Don’t say that!”

“Why? Honey, if you invited him over for toast and he said yes, he’s interested in more than dinner.”

“Oh, no!” I said. “No, no, no, I can’t do this. I have to go back and tell him I changed my mind.”

“Don’t even think about it, Joan. Look, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re single. You’re interested in him, or else you wouldn’t have invited him over, and he’s interested in you, or he wouldn’t have said yes. Just have dinner and send him home if that’s all you want. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know, Maria. I think this is all a mistake.”

“Why? What’s wrong with having dinner with somebody besides a client? You had dinner with Senator O’Brien and everything was fine. Just pretend he’s one of the senator’s aids. Or you could pretend he’s a German shepherd. I bet he’d like it if you rubbed his belly.”

“Very funny. I’m going to need therapy when I get back to New York, and it’s all your fault.”

“You’ll be fine, Joan. Look, I’ve got to go. I hope you like the flowers we sent. And have fun tonight, you deserve it.”

“Okay. Thanks for everything, Maria.”

I started to flip my phone shut when I thought of another call I needed to make. I needed to check on my cats. I could see June giving Sophie’s pills to Tiger. My first call didn’t go very well.

“Hello?” June said.

“Hello, this is Joan. I was just wondering how Sophie’s doing.”

“Joan? My name isn’t Joan. My name is June. You must have the wrong number.”

“No, June. This is Joan. I live in your apartment building.”

“I already told you, nobody named Joan lives here, Honey.”

And then she hung up.

“Hello?” she said when I called back.

“Hi, June! How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. I was just wondering how my cats are doing.”

“Your cats? Who is this?”

“This is Joan. I was wondering how Tiger and Sophie are doing.”

“Oh, they’re doing just fine. Somebody just called looking for you. Poor girl thought you lived here. She never said what her name was.”

“That was probably my secretary. She said she would check on my cats, but I wanted to call myself. Have you had any trouble getting Sophie to take her medicine?”

“Oh, Sophie is a sweet little cat. I pop her pill in a piece of hot dog and she just gobbles it right up. I have to give Tiger some hot dog, too, or he cries. He’s such a big baby.”

“Yes, they’re both pretty spoiled. You’re giving the pill to the little white cat, aren’t you?”

“Yes, that’s the one you told me to, isn’t it?”

“Right, I was just making sure you remembered which one needed the medicine. I hope they aren’t too much trouble for you.”

“No, it’s no trouble at all. I watered your plants while I was there yesterday. Did you know you had aphids on your geranium? They’re all gone now. I just sprayed it with some soapy water and they all died. That’s the secret, soapy water. I moved it closer to the window, too. Maybe it will bloom if it gets more sun.”

“Thanks, June. I’m glad you don’t mind taking care of my cats while I’m gone. I still don’t know how long I’ll be here. All weekend at least, probably all next week, too. I’ll call you back when I find out.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of everything here. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Well, that was a relief. She wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but she was giving the medicine to the right cat at least. And watering my plants, too. I hadn’t asked her to do that. I didn’t really care about the plants that much. I liked having plants in my apartment, but I didn’t have much of a green thumb. My plants usually didn’t live very long. I was constantly throwing dead plants in the trash and replacing them with new ones. I didn’t even know which plant she was talking about. Which one was a geranium, and what the hell was an aphid?

Sassafras, Part 23

Rick


As soon as she left Sneider threw the chips in the trash and started pacing around, kicking desks and cussing. He said she looked like she would be trouble. He was pissed about her getting a copy of the coroner’s report. She sounded too nosey. Somebody needed to keep an eye on her. “Do you want us to tail her?” asked Thompson, the youngest officer working in Sassafras.

“Don’t be an idiot, you dipshit,” Sneider said and slapped him in the back of his head. I heard that ring he always wore thump against Thompson’s skull and saw him wince. Sneider really was a prick. He took that whole walk softly and carry a big stick a little too far. He was too quick to attack, coming out of nowhere and using a sledgehammer where a flyswatter would have worked. It showed a lack of confidence in himself. I think he knew he would get his ass kicked in a fair fight. He didn’t trust you if he didn’t think you were afraid of him. “Don’t you think she would notice cops following her all over town? What I need it for somebody to take her mind off her sister. Show her a good time and then make sure she leaves town.” The only problem was his deputies were either a young punk that she wouldn't be interested in, or an old married man or a man who had a girlfriend that would cut his balls off with a rusty steak knife.

“You,” he pointed at me. “What were you two laughing about?”

“Toast,” I said. “Swear to God, we were talking about toast.”

He looked like he couldn’t decide if I was serious or pulling his leg. “She said she met you last night. I want you to keep her busy. I don’t want her asking any more questions about her sister.” I’m glad he picked me, because I didn't want to think of one of the other cops getting involved with her. I don't know if he would have thought about me if I hadn't been there. I'm sure I'm not the only person he's controlling and blackmailing. After all, that's what I was there to uncover.

Finally he calmed down and went into his desk. When I thought nobody was looking I dug the chips out of the trash and went back to the desk I had been sitting at and looked at them. I wondered what kind of camera they went in, and decided to try Googling the ID number on the back of them. I hardly noticed Sneider walk up and stand next to me, until he grabbed the chips out of my hand and punched me in the side of the head.

He looked like he was likely to kill me at any minute. He was waving his hands around and yelling at me. I couldn't understand at first what he was saying because my ears were ringing, but I could tell he wanted to know what I was doing with the chips. Somebody must have seen me dig them out of the trash.

I decided to see if I could bluff my way out of this. "Hell yeah, I took them. You told me to get on Joan’s good side. I thought I might get some brownie points if I gave her the chips back. Why do you give a shit, you threw them away?”

Sneider threw the chips on the floor and started stomping on them like they were tiny plastic roaches. “Next time you get a bright idea, don’t,” he said and hit me again, then stormed to the restroom. I kicked one of the chips with my foot, but I could tell they were all ruined. I erased the history on the browser of the computer I had been working and shut it off, then left the station.

I was curious about what really happened to Jenny, so I decided to go to the county seat, Stoneypoint, and snoop around the coroner's office. I didn’t want to just walk in and ask for a copy of the coroner’s report, so I had to come up with a cover. The coroner worked out of the county hospital, so I decided I needed to see a doctor for something, and thought a flu shot would do the trick.

I drove to Stoneypoint and found Mercy General. It was a large, gray building on the corner of Seventh and Main. I went in and just looked around for a while. It was the only hospital in the entire county, so it was pretty busy. I asked the secretary at the front desk about getting a flu shot and she said to go to the family clinic on the second floor. The directory said the coroner's office was on the third floor, so I went to the third floor and acted like I was lost.

"Yeah, I'm here for my flu shot," I told the attendant.

"You're on the wrong floor," she said. "This is the coroner's office. You want the next floor down."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry," I said and looked around the room. There was a computer on the desk, but I didn't know if it was on-line or not. More likely just hooked up to other computers in the hospital. I would probably have a better chance of getting information if I could get on a computer in the hospital. I just had to think of where the weakest link would be. It had to be somewhere that I could get on the computer without getting too much attention. Maybe I would have to come back at night.

I went down to the second floor and waited for about an hour and a half until they called my name. I got my shot and decided to try the cafeteria. It was about 2:30 and there weren’t many people there. I was able to slip back into the kitchen and found their computer. It was hooked into the system. I was able to get into the coroner’s office and opened the file on Jenny. I wasn't a doctor, and most of it didn't make much of an impression on me. How much should her lungs weigh, and what should be the temperature of her liver? I did see what Joan had said about the whiskey in her stomach, but how important was that? The marks on the little body outlines just looked like scribbling. It said it was just a hit and run. So what was Sneider freaking about?

Before I went to Joan's I went home and got cleaned up. When I finally got to Joan's, I didn't even have to knock before she opened the door. I thought that was a good thing, until she walked out and slapped me right in the face. I was just glad she hit me a little lower than Sneider had, or I would have been seeing stars again.

"What was that for?” I asked, rubbing my cheek gingerly.

"You lied to me!" she yelled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you were a cop. My neighbor told me you're a convict."

"I never said I was a cop. I said I do computer work at the police station. That's the truth. You saw me."

"So you aren't an ex-con?"

I couldn't get out of it. "Yes, I was in prison," I admitted, "but I’m not a mafia hit man or anything. I was an accountant and I stole money from some of my clients. I got busted and spent seven years in prison, but I'm straight now. I have a job at the Purina factory driving a fork life, but I also do computer work for the cops."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because I knew how you would react. Just like this. You wouldn't have even talked to me if I had told you the truth. Would you even have sat next to me if you knew I had been in prison?"

She looked like she still wanted to give me a piece of her mind, but at least she hadn't slapped me again. She was pacing back and forth on the driveway, a strand of her hair whipping across her face, her long blue skirt waving like a flag in the wind. “Besides, I thought you already knew. You said the waitress last night told you.”

She stopped pacing and stood there with her hands curled up into little fists. “She said you were from Bowling Green!” she yelled.

“Yeah, the Bowling Green Correctional Center for Men. Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth right away. It's just not the kind of thing you just casually mention. I'm sorry." I reached out and touched her sleeve but she jerked away. Great. Now that she knows I was in jail she isn't going to believe me or trust me. The next time she was about to pace by me I stepped forward and cut her off.

"Look, I'm not that same person. I used to be a real crappy human being. I stole from people. I thought it was fun and exciting. I did anything I wanted and never thought about anybody but myself," I said. "You would have hated me, and you would have been right. I hate that me. But that's not me now. I paid back every dime I had and spent seven years in jail."

She wasn't looking at me, but she was at least standing there listening to me still. "If you really think I'm a danger to society, I'll leave right now. But you have to look me in the eye and tell me to go."

She finally looked up at me. "Then leave," she said and pointed at my car.

That sucked Big Time. Shit. I had been hoping my Hoganish charm would have saved the day. I couldn't think of any way to get out of this, but I didn't want to just leave. "Okay, if that's what you want." I really said that. I couldn't think of anything better to say. Then I couldn't put it off any longer so I turned around and started walking back to my car. I was opening the door when I heard her walking toward me.

"Wait," she sounded tired. "Don't leave." She was biting her lip and fidgeting. “Did you really think I already knew?”

“Yes. It seems like everybody I’ve met since I moved here already knows everything about me. You asked me about Bowling Green last night. I just assumed you knew I was in prison there.”

She sighed, and then said, "I'm sorry." I guess I must have looked confused, because she explained, "About slapping you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's ok. I deserved it. I'm sorry, too. Can we just start over?" I held out my hand and picked up one of hers. I was hoping she was sorry enough to let me stay, but she was still avoiding looking at me.

Sassafras, Part 22

Rick



I was dreaming about Joan when I woke up. I groaned when I realized it was just a pillow I was holding. I tried to sort out what had been a dream and what had really happened last night, but the whole night seemed like a dream. It had started out so ordinary, and then turned into an absolute roller coaster ride. First she was happy and then she was sad, she was shy and then she was passionate. It had been hard to keep up with her until she hit the drunk stage. I still remembered when she was lying down in the booth, laughing and waving her feet in the air, one shoe on and one shoe off. I thought about that list she made. I’m not bouncy, but I have a nice ass.

I tried to think about what I had to do today, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Joan. I wondered what time she wanted me to come over tonight. I hoped she still remembered. She had been pretty tipsy when she invited me over. Maybe she wouldn’t even be home, or maybe I would show up and somebody else would be there with her. An old boyfriend from high school, dropping by to relive the good old days with her. I couldn’t believe how upset that idea made me. I didn’t want to think about her with anyone but me.

I wanted her more than any other woman I had ever met, but I knew that idea was crazy. I looked around my apartment and imagined bringing her here. We could stand in the middle of the room and I could give her a complete tour. That corner is the living room, that corner is the kitchen, that corner is the dining room, that door is the closet and that door is the bathroom. If she wanted to spend the night she would have to stand in the dining room while I pulled the bed out of the couch. Last night she said she knew I had been in Bowling Green, and it hadn’t seemed to matter, but I knew once she sobered up she wouldn’t feel the same. There was no way she would want to have anything to do with me.

Why did I have to meet her now? At least I hadn’t met her before I went to prison. That would have been even worse. I had been such a complete asshole. I knew what would have happened if I met her then. I would have seen her, I would have wanted her, I would have gotten her, and then I would have dumped her. I wouldn’t have realized what I lost, or even have remembered her at all, because you have to know something before you can remember it, and I never bothered to get to know the women I met. They had just been amusing toys to me, no more important than the cars and motorcycles I bought on a whim and then sold when I got bored with them.

I suppose it’s a cliché that prison was the best thing that ever happened to me, but sometimes clichés are true. I had been a bad combination of good looks, money, and an ego the size of Texas. In prison I learned I really wasn’t the center of the universe. I was almost 40 when I got out, and I didn’t have anything. No friends, no money, no job, no house. My accounting degree was worthless. Even my sister turned her back on me when she found out I was going to prison. The only people who stood by me were my parents, and I knew what a disappointment I was to them. I had never been so ashamed of myself as I had the first time they came for visiting day at prison. That was one of the reasons I was in Sassafras. I couldn’t forget the look in their eyes every time they visited me, like they had done something wrong. I wanted to do something to make them proud of me again.

Lying around in bed wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I got up and took a shower. After I got dressed I started a pot of coffee and got out my laptop. While it was booting up I threw a couple of pieces of leftover pizza in the microwave and folded the bed back up. Another exciting day in Sassafras was about to begin. I snuck a program in the phone company’s computer when I started working for Boyd that generated e-mails every day listing the incoming and outgoing phone numbers for Sneider’s cell phone and house phone, and the different phone lines that went to the police station. I added Jenny’s house phone and Joan’s cell phone to the list of numbers to monitor, then checked the phone logs that came in last night. There were a couple of new numbers on the police station logs, but when I checked them they were just other police numbers and a police supply store. Nothing interesting. Sneider had another phone call listed on his cell phone to the number he called that night Joan got in town, but the chief of police calling the county police wasn’t anything unusual.

I had to work Saturday and Sunday, so I decided to hang out at the cop shop as long as I could without being obvious about it, and it really paid off. I was sitting at a desk near the front of the room after lunch, playing around on a computer. That was how I was able to keep an eye on what was happening at the cop shop. I convinced them to let me use the computers at the station since as far as they knew I couldn't legally own, or even touch, a computer until I was off probation. After all, I was doing them a favor by working my computer magic for them, the least they could do is let me come in on my free time and surf the net once in a while. They didn't even notice me as long as I had my nose pointed at a monitor. I slipped up once and mentioned my laptop, but caught myself and said I was talking about the laptop I had before I got busted.

I was trying to look like I was paying attention to the computer, some car stereo equipment, when Joan walked into the station. She walked over to Sneider’s desk, but all the way she kept looking over at me and smiling. I loved looking at her, especially when she smiled. And when she sat down.

I could hear her asking a lot of questions about her sister. Sneider was trying to keep his cool, but when she showed him the coroner’s report he started fidgeting with his lighter like he wanted to set her on fire. Whatever he was hiding, she was getting close. When she showed him the jacket and those camera chips I could tell he was about to have a stroke. Then she just gave him the chips.

When she started walking to the door I stood up and waited for her. “It’s nice to see you again, Joan,” I told her. She just smiled at me for a minute, then said hi. “You look really nice today.” She was wearing a long blue skirt that swirled around her legs like water, and a dark blue sweater with little pearl buttons running down the front. The neckline was just low enough to remind me what I was missing. She had a pearl necklace that made her neck look even more graceful, and her hair was pulled back to show off the little pearl earrings she wore. She looked like a movie star from back in the days when that really meant something.

I don’t think she was paying any attention to what I was saying. She said hi again, then said “I mean, what?” I told her how beautiful she looked, and asked when I should come over that night. At first she looked confused, but then she said to come over at six. When I asked her if I should bring anything with me, first she said she was ok, then started blushing and said I didn’t need to bring anything.

I’ll never forget the look on her face when I mentioned toast. Her mouth fell open, then she put her hands up over her face, and all I could see was her eyes peeking over a row of dark pink nails. “I didn’t! Please say I didn’t invite you over, not for toast,” she pleaded.

She sounded so upset, but she looked so adorable, it was all I could do not to laugh. She started pacing, just three steps right, turn, then three steps left, turn, waving her arms a little each time she turned, her skirt swirling like a whirlpool around her, then she stopped. She looked at me and tilted her head a little. “So, I invited you over, for toast, and you said yes?” she asked. I just nodded. “For toast?” she repeated. When I nodded again she pressed her lips together, then put her hands back over her mouth. At first I thought she was upset, maybe going to cry again, but then she suggested maybe I should bring some jelly instead of wine and I heard her start laughing. I laughed, too.

“Is toast some kind of new East Coast fad?”

“No, it’s just a joke a friend of mine said. It’s nothing. I’d love for you to come over tonight, if you still want to. I promise there won’t be any toast involved.”

“Okay, I’ll be there at six,” I said and we walked to the door. I watched her bounce down the steps, her skirt fluttering along after her, then walked back to the computer I had been working at.

Good News, Bad News

The good news is that I finally got around to actually driving my new car to work today. If you want to know the truth, I avoided driving it because I didn't want to hurt Joan's feelings since she can't drive a stick shift. But then I decided she wouldn't mind because in the sequel Rick is going to teach her to drive, so it's all cool.

The bad news is my laptop might be fried. It worked fine when I shut it down, but then the next time I tried to start it the laptop just got about half-way started and then froze. The Man has been trying to re-install Windows, but for some reason it won't take. I'm hoping maybe I can talk him into taking it to the computer doctor, but I think he just wants to buy another regular desktop computer instead.

Sassafras, Part 21

Joan


After that I decided to go back to the police station to talk to Detective Sneider again before I went to The Home. When I walked in the first thing I saw was Rick sitting in front of a computer. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought it must be someone else, but when Detective Sneider walked up to me and said my name he turned and look at me. It was Rick. I followed Detective Sneider to his desk, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Rick. He was smiling, and I realized I was, too.

When we got to Detective Sneider’s desk I almost tripped over a chair. I was finally able to look away from Rick and looked at Detective Sneider. "I didn't know you two knew each other," Detective Sneider said, looking over at Rick.

"We met last night at Tanner’s. Actually, I came here to ask you some questions about Jenny’s accident,” I said as I sat down. I pulled the coroner’s report out of the envelope and handed it to Detective Sneider, then started fanning myself with the empty envelope and trying to ignore Rick sitting two desks away. It felt so hot in there.

"Where did you get this?" Detective Sneider asked.

"The people at Whispering Acres gave it to me when I went there this morning. There are some things in here that don't make any sense." I flipped to the page with the gingerbread men outlines. "Her injuries don't look right. There was a hit and run case on Court TV and they showed this page. It didn't look anything like this one. The man on Court TV had a couple of bruises and some broken bones, but nothing like this. Both of his legs were broken, and on Court TV they said that when the bumper hits the victim's legs it usually breaks both of them right where it hits them. Neither of her legs are broken; she just had a bruise here on her thigh. And see all these marks on her arms? They look like defensive wounds, like somebody was attacking her.”

I noticed every time I mentioned Court TV Detective Schneider started snapping his lighter open and shut and looking at me like I was some senile old lady talking about her cats, which made me think about June. I needed to call and make sure she remembered to give Sophie her medicine. I didn’t want him to think I was a senile old lady like June, so I decided to change the subject. "I also don't understand why you found her body in front of the hardware store. She would never have gone that way if she were walking. She would have just cut straight through the alley and across the railroad tracks. She would only go in front of Scott's if she was driving, not if she was walking."

Schneider shrugged. "Maybe she was going to stop someplace else before going home. We just assumed she was walking home."

"But where would she be going alone in the middle of the night? And she left her jacket in Tanner's. I found it hanging up there last night. It was too cold to be wandering around without a jacket."

"Are you sure it was her jacket?" he asked.

"Yes, I bought it for her for Christmas. It even had her keys in the pocket, and a bunch of these things," I said and gave him the chips. "Billy said they are memory chips that go to her camera, but now her camera is missing, too."

"People do all sorts of strange things after they've been drinking," Sneider said, eyeing the camera chips. "I've seen people walk around in the snow with nothing on but a t-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. The coroner's report said she was drunk."

"That was something else I wanted to ask you about. The coroner said there was whiskey in her stomach, but the bartender said she was just drinking beer,” I said but Detective Sneider interrupted me.

"Miss Weaver," he sighed, "I know your sister's death is a shock for you, and you are just trying to help find whoever did this to her, but it was just an accident. Someone was just going too fast, or not watching where they were going. Maybe they had been drinking, or speeding, or talking on their cell phone. Asking questions about her jacket and things you saw on TV aren't going to help us find the person who did this to her.”

He stood up and walked around his desk to me. “Please, do me a favor and let me do my job. Go home, Miss Weaver," he said and started helping me out of my chair. "Joan, I promise, I'll call you if we get any leads.”

I stood there for a second, trying to think of something that would convince him to listen to me. I had the distinct impression he was just trying to get rid of me. I was still holding the coroner’s report and realized I had been folding and twisting it in my hands. I flattened it back out, and looked up at Sneider. “You have my number,” I said and stood up.

When I turned around and started walking I saw Rick standing by the door, smiling at me. Part of me wanted to run past him out the door, but part of me wanted to run up to him and wrap my arms around him, so of course I froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. I think he said something to me, but I didn’t know what. "Hi," I said, looking up at him and smiling, still thinking about making a run for it. I couldn’t believe I kissed him last night. Actually, I couldn’t believe anybody that met him wouldn’t want to kiss him. He was the classic tall, dark and handsome man of every woman’s dreams. What I found hard to understand was why he kissed me.

He was looking at me, and I realized he had said something else and I still hadn’t heard a word. I remembered the first thing I said to him last night, about the Middle Eastern country and having to marry me, but nothing witty came out this time. “Hi,” I said, and then realized I had just said that. “I mean, what?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. I didn’t know what to say. I looked down and could feel myself starting to blush. “What time should I come over tonight?” he asked.

‘What?” I looked back up at him. What was he talking about?

“Do you still want me to come over tonight?” he asked. “Don’t you remember? You invited me over for dinner last night. What time should I be there?”

No, I didn’t remember. I wondered what else I didn’t remember. “Yes, I remember,” I lied, and then started blushing more. “Six. Six is good.”

“Would you like me to bring anything with me?” he asked.

“I’m ok,” I said. “I mean, you don’t need anything. Need to bring anything I mean,” and then pressed my lips together before I embarrassed myself any further.

He was smiling even more, which made me even more nervous. How could he make me feel like this? In New York I worked with rich and famous clients, millionaires, senators, diplomats, movie stars. I even worked with royalty once, although that didn’t really count since it had just been Sara Fergusun, Her Ladyship or whatever she was instead of Her Royal Highness. I was always cool and in control, a model of professional behavior. How could a man I barely knew make me feel like I had no idea what I was doing?

“Okay. I didn’t know if red or white wine went with toast, anyway.”

As soon as he said toast I about fainted. “What?” I squeaked.

“Toast. You asked me if I liked toast.”

I put my hands up over my mouth. I was going to kill Maria. “I didn’t! Please say I didn’t invite you over, not for toast.”

He looked like he was going to start laughing. “Is toast some kind of new east coast fad?”

I just wanted to die. I couldn’t look at him. How could I have invited him over for toast? I started pacing when I thought of something. I stopped and looked at him. “So, I invited you over, for toast, and you said yes?” He just nodded. “For toast?” I repeated and he nodded again. I put my hands back over my mouth and tried not to laugh. “Maybe instead of wine you should bring jelly?” I said and then started laughing.

Sassafras, Part 20

Joan


I picked up my dress at the cleaner’s and drove home. Billy was on the computer again, but he just ignored me when I came in. I saw Jenny's jacket lying across the back of a kitchen chair and remembered finding it last night hanging on the wall at Tanner’s. I picked it up and held it for a minute. I ran my hand over the design on the back, a giant dragon holding the world in its claws. I sat down and stared off into space. Jenny always loved dragons. She used to collect them. She had dragons everywhere, little dragon figurines, dragon posters, even little dragon stickers all over her notebooks. She still loved dragons, but you had to look for them now, like the dragon coffee cup I brought home from the diner.

I threw the jacket back on the chair, but it slipped to the floor. When I picked it up something fell out of the pocket. I bent over and picked it up. It was a little plastic black and silver square. I felt in the pockets and found 3 more of them.

I held them up and looked at them, but didn't have any idea what they were. "Billy, what are these?" I asked, but he wouldn't look at me. I walked over and held them in front of him. He finally looked at them. "Are these computer chips?"

He never looked at me, or stopped typing on the computer. "Those are memory chips for Mom's camera. They're like little rolls of film that you can use over and over," he explained when he realized I didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"You mean there are pictures on these?"

"Yeah, there ought to be. Mom has a digital camera, but it's an old one and only holds about a dozen pictures. We couldn't afford a new camera with more memory, so she just bought a bunch of these chips on eBay. She always had her camera with her. That's where she got all the pictures on her blog. She'd take a bunch of pictures, then come home and put them on the computer.

"Could we see what's on these?" I asked him.

"Sure, we just have to get the camera," he said and sighed loudly, finally looking at me before starting to push papers and floppy disks around on the desk. He got up and looked around the entertainment center and the coffee table. "Where is it?" he muttered. "Sorry, Aunt Jo, I can't find the camera."

"Do you think she had it with her the night she died?"

"Probably. She used to carry it around with her all the time."

"Well, just put them in the computer."

"You can't do that, you have to hook the camera to the computer."

"So we can't see what's on these?"

"Not without the camera." He thought a minute. "Unless Mom already put them on the computer."

We spent the next hour looking at pictures on the computer. Some of them I recognized from her blog. Billy gave me a guided tour of the photo files, explaining what was going on in them, and who different people were that I didn't know. He showed me pictures of science projects he had made, places Jenny had taken him on vacations, lots of pictures of him and his friends at home or school. I think I learned more about him in that hour than I had the entire time he had been alive. I was glad he was finally talking to me.

The only thing left to do that day was go to The Home to see Mom. I asked Billy if he wanted to go with me, but he said no. Even when I tried to bribe him with lunch at Don’s first he still wasn’t interested. I guess since his mom worked at Don’s his whole life going there one more time wasn’t really much of a bribe.

Don was working when I got there. I hadn’t realized how old he was. He was thin and gray, wearing black pants and a white dress shirt, the only thing I could ever remember seeing him wear. He walked around the counter and gave me a big hug. “Joan, it’s so good to see you,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay. It feels good to be back in town.” When I said that I realized I meant it. I hated Sassafras, but it felt good to be back.

“We all miss Jenny. This place will never be the same without her. I don’t guess you’re looking for a job, are you?”

I laughed. The idea of following in Jenny’s footsteps was as appealing as eating a bowl of thumbtacks. “No, I have a job in New York. I’m just going to be in town long enough to take care of everything and then I’ll be leaving again.”

“Well, I just hope you stay long enough to try my chili. I’ve improved the recipe since you were a girl.”

“I know. Jenny said you won a prize for it.”

“Yes, first place at the state fair. I knew it was good, but I was still shocked when I won. There was a lot of good chili there.”

“Well, Jenny wasn’t surprised. She mailed me a copy of the newspaper clipping. She said she tried to mail me a bowl of chili, but the envelope kept leaking.”

“That sounds like Jenny,” he said. “It feels like I lost a daughter, not just a waitress.”

I sat down and Don told the waitress to get me anything I want, on the house, and make sure to bring me a bowl of chili.

While I waited for my hamburger I flipped through the papers from the coroner. The first was just a death certificate, but there was also a copy of the coroner's report. I recognized one page from Court TV. It looked like two gingerbread men covered with red marks showing the injuries to Jenny, front and back. There was a lot marked on her head and arms, a couple of big marks on her chest, one on her thigh.

I wondered if she suffered, if she was in pain, lying on the side of the road like a dog. In the cold, without her jacket. That kept bugging me. Why didn't she have her jacket on? I asked the server what the weather had been like Monday, the night Jenny died. She said it had been cold. There had been a football game at school that she had gone to that night, and she had been freezing because she only wore a sweater.

When my food came I put the papers back in the envelope. I didn't want to keep looking at that, but I couldn't stop seeing it. Or thinking about it. All those red lines on her arms and head. There was something else I learned from Court TV. Those looked like defensive wounds. Hit and run victims usually have both legs broken, right where the bumper hit them. She only had one injury, on her upper thigh. I opened the envelope back up and pulled out the file. Her leg wasn't even broken, just deeply bruised. Weird. And why was she walking in front of Scott’s? Nothing made sense.

When I finished eating I started looking through the papers again. Something else caught my eye. The blood alcohol level wasn't that high, but what really stood out was the lab said her stomach had whiskey in it. That couldn't be true, because she never drank whiskey. Not since a party when she was a senior and got so drunk she passed out and woke up in the neighbor's back yard covered in vomit. She only drank beer or wine after that, never hard liquor and definitely no whiskey. Besides, the bartender said she only drank a couple of beers.

Just Ewww

My husband gets restaurant magazines in the mail. I was flipping through the latest one and found this tempting taste treat brought to you by America's Beef Producers. They call it a steak sundae. You layer mashed potatoes, shredded sheese, BBQ sauce, and steak chunks in a sundae glass. That by itself doesn't sound too bad. It would be better with gravy instead of the BBQ sauce, but still, not too bad. But they are trying to market this idea to kids, so they decided it would be a good idea to sprinkle Pop Rocks over the top. Now, I don't know. Call me crazy, but steak and mashed potatoes with Pop Rocks sprinkled on top just sounds like a bad idea. I can't imagine any kids wanting to eat that. I know I don't want to.

Sassafras, Part 19


Joan

That morning I woke up dreaming about Rick. I sat up and my head started pounding. What had I done last night? I remembered meeting Rick, and I remembered drinking a lot of beer. I remembered spilling beer on my favorite dress, and walking around barefoot. Had something happened to my shoes, too? They were my best black shoes. I knew I should have changed when I got home yesterday. I got out of bed and picked my dress up off the floor. I didn’t see any stains on it, but it smelled like beer and cigarettes. I was going to have to take it to the cleaners today. I looked for my shoes but couldn’t find them. Surely I didn’t walk all the way home from Tanner’s barefoot. Please tell me I didn’t leave $135 pair of shoes in a bar, I thought. I hadn’t been that drunk, had I?

I sat on the edge of the bed and went over the whole night in my mind, or at least as much as I remembered. Honestly, the last half of the night was pretty hazy. I remembered talking a lot, which was unusual for me, and I even remembered laughing, which was even more unusual. I remembered having some kind of panic attack, but I also remembered feeling more relaxed than I had in years. I remembered how comfortable I felt with Rick, like I had known him for years, not just hours. I hardly knew anything about him. I didn’t know where he lived or worked, even what his last name was. Something that started with a G, Gillette maybe? I wondered if I would ever see him again. I thought about going back to Tanner’s tonight. Maybe he would be there.

And then I remembered kissing him. I couldn’t believe it, but I remembered it. I could count on one hand the men I had kissed in the last year, and that was including Rick. One hand would probably be enough to count all the men I had kissed in the last two years, but I definitely remembered kissing him. The more I thought about it, the clearer the memory became. I could remember the way his arms felt, his hand running through my hair, the way his lips moved over mine, the way he tasted, the way he smelled.

Get a grip, I thought. A stranger I met in a bar should be pretty low on my priority list. I should be concentrating on Jenny’s funeral, breaking the news to Mom, figuring out how I was going to convince Billy moving to New York wouldn’t be the end of the world. Not sitting around daydreaming about some man I would probably never see again. It was time to take care of business. I put on a long light blue skirt and dark blue sweater then walked into the kitchen. Billy was sitting on the couch watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning, Billy,” I said, but he just ignored me. I picked up the phone and called the funeral home to see if everything was on schedule. They said they picked up Jenny's body that morning, and needed me to bring them the clothes for her to wear. I picked up the phone book after I hung up and looked for a dry cleaner’s in Sassafras, but wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find one. There was one in Bond, so I called to see I they had 1-hour cleaning. They did, so I could drop my dress off on the way to Whispering Acres. When I put the phone down I noticed my shoes kicked under the coffee table. I knelt down in front of the TV and picked them up. They were fine, no scuffs and the heels looked okay. That was a relief.

"Billy, I'm going to the funeral home. Do you want to come with me? We could stop and get you something nice to wear tomorrow."

"I don't need you to buy me anything. Why don't you call your boyfriend and see if he wants to go with you?" he said and stormed to his room and shut the door. I walked over and stood out side his room for a minute, my hand on the doorknob, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came. I leaned over and pressed my forehead against the door, part of me wanting to shake some sense into Billy and part wanting to shake some sense into me. My boyfriend? Did he mean Rick? I vaguely remembered being in a car, something small and sporty. He must have driven me home last night. I got in a car with a total stranger? What had I been thinking last night? I came here to bury my sister, not pick up strange men in bars.

I straightened up and let go of the doorknob. I thought of a line from Gone With The Wind that Scarlet always said when things overwhelmed her. ‘Tomorrow is another day.’ I’ll deal with this tomorrow, I thought. I went through Jenny's closet and picked out a pink dress with pale yellow flowers.

It was weird going through Jenny's room. I didn't know what I was going to do with all her stuff. Her clothes were all too big, and I don't think I would have taken any even if I could wear them. I stood in the middle of the room and looked around, then picked up her jewelry box and sat on the bed with it on my lap. She got that jewelry box for Christmas one year, I think she might have been 14 or 15. Once again, I had been jealous. It was dark wood, and shone even at night when the only light was Jenny’s little dragon nightlight next to the door. It had a lock with a tiny golden key, and there was a little tray that lifted out, revealing a roomy area perfect for hiding important things, like makeup and letters from boys, from the prying fingers of little sisters.

When I opened the lid a little ballerina wearing a white ruffle of a tutu started spinning around, bobbing up and down, one leg pointed straight down and the other leg swaying back and forth like she had epilepsy. I couldn’t remember the name of the tune it played, but I could remember every note as if I had heard it only yesterday. There wasn’t much jewelry in it, just her class ring and Bill’s class ring, his wedding ring, and a handful of lesser jewelry. Under the tray there were a couple of Billy’s baby teeth and a lock of his hair, a medal of Bill’s and a stack of letters he wrote her, some when they were in high school and some after they were married and he was away in the Marines. No life insurance policy or big wad of money, but it was all the treasure Jenny had.

I carried the clothes out to the car and folded them across the back seat. I had Jenny’s keys now, and after I put them in the ignition I sat there for a second, staring at them, then pulled them back out. There weren’t many keys on it, just the house key, the car keys, and a couple of smaller keys. I looked at the smaller keys. Yes, one looked like a bank key. At least now I could hopefully find out if she had anything in her safety deposit box

I decided to go ahead and stop at the bank, but they weren’t any more helpful than the first time I went in. They still insisted Jenny didn’t have a box there, even when I showed them the key. Finally the bank employee looked the numbers on the key up in his computer. He was right, my sister didn’t have a box, my mother did. Actually, it was still in my father’s name, but he did see where Jenny’s name was added to the account after Mom and Dad. Unfortunately, he didn’t see my name there, so I still couldn’t get in the box. What an asshole, I thought as I left the bank, Jenny’s keys clutched in my fist.

I dropped of my dress at the dry cleaner then went to the funeral home and talked to the secretary for a minute. She gave me a manila envelope from the coroner. Inside was a bunch of papers and a little plastic bag with her jewelry and what she had in her pockets. Her wedding ring, a necklace, 7 dollars, a hair clip, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

After I left the funeral home I had some time to kill, so I did a little sight seeing. I went through town and got on River Road, a small gravel road that followed the Stoney River to Sassafras. When we were young Deana and Jenny and I would drive all over looking for something to do. There were a lot of clubhouses on River Road, most of them owned by city people from Stoneypoint or even Columbia or Jefferson City. I couldn’t believe people would drive that far just to fish and drink beer, but they did. We could usually find some guys willing to share their beers with us.

I drove slowly, watching seagulls hover in the air over the river. Once it got cold enough eagles would join them, hunched up in the tops of the cottonwoods like wise old men in black coats, but there weren’t any eagles yet. There weren’t any clubhouses, either. A flood had come years ago and washed away most of them. The few that remained had gradually fallen apart and lay in pieces here and there on the side of the road, the concrete block piers that used to hold them up jutting through the mossy, rotten roofs.

I stopped in front of the ruins of one and got out, holding up my skirt and kicking the weeds and fallen branches. I don’t know what I was looking for, but I didn’t find anything. I walked back to Jenny’s car and leaned against the hood, looking out at the water, wishing she was there with me. She would have made a joke about something and we would have both laughed, or she would have picked up a stone from the gravel road to see if she could make it skip across the water. I picked up a rock, but it fell into the water with a quiet splash. I couldn’t think of anything to laugh about.

Another Unexpected Side Effect Of Sassafras-itis

On the way home from work the other day I started wondering if we were going to have a cold winter this year, because it's perpetual November in Sassafras and I forgot it was actually March in real life.

On a more depressing note, I have been reading all the tips at the NaNoEdMo site, and now I think I might end up having to edit out the end of the story where Rick goes crazy. It was fun to write, and I really like it, but I just don't know if it really moves the story forward or just bloats it. I think I could end the story a lot sooner.

Sassafras, Part 18


Joan


While I was in the restroom I went over the gold mine of information I learned from the waitress. Rick was single. Check. He’s nice. Check. He plays pool. Check. He’s from some place called Bowling Green. Check. He likes sandwiches. Check. We make a cute couple. Double check. All systems go, I thought as I walked out the door. I was trying to find our booth when I saw him talking to the waitress. He was so good looking, even from across the room, even from the back. When he saw me I waved and I started walking toward him, but somehow a table got in the way.

We stumbled into each other, then he put his arm around me and we walked back to the booth. I picked up my cigarette and started to take a drink of my beer, but Rick told the waitress to take it away and bring me a cup of coffee. That was okay with me. I like coffee more than beer anyway. Not the fancy flavored or whipped kind, just plain, hot, black coffee. Besides, I’d already had too much beer.

I could tell I was going to have a hard time remembering everything in the morning, so I decided to get my planner out of my purse and make some notes. Just in case this wasn’t a dream. Rick was different than any of the other men I met, but I couldn’t put my finger on how. Maybe if I saw it in black and white I would be able to figure it out. He had a relaxed, confident attitude, not the tense, almost aggressive air of other men. Definitely not a piranha. It felt good just to look at him. I couldn't believe how wonderful it had felt when he kissed me. That had been the only time since I got to Sassafras that I had been able to relax, to think of anything except Jenny, and how pathetic my life was. When he kissed me all I could think of was him.

I had just finished my list when the waitress came back with the coffee. Rick told her we didn’t need any cream or sugar. How did he know that? I decided he must be psychic, so I added that to my list. The coffee was delicious. Just the smell was enough to satisfy, but when I tasted it I was impressed. Bar coffee usually sucks, but this was wonderful. I leaned back against Rick and just enjoyed the moment. I didn’t want that night to ever end, but when I had almost finished my cup my phone rang. It was Billy, wondering where I was and when I was coming home. Time to go.

Rick helped me put my shoes on and then helped me get up out of the booth. He was so nice, and he smelled so good, and his neck was just inches from my face. I leaned in and kissed his neck a couple of times and thought that was the best night of my entire life.

He paid the waitress and then we stopped to get our jackets off the pegs in the wall. While he helped me on with my coat I noticed a jacket still hanging on the wall.

"This is Jenny's jacket," I said and picked it up and turned it around in my hands. "I bought it for her for Christmas two years ago. Why would Jenny leave her jacket here?"

"Are you sure it's hers?" he asked.

I reached in a pocket and pulled out a key chain with a picture in a little silver frame. "This is Billy," I said, "and this is Jenny's jacket."

"Maybe it wasn't that cold when she left, and she just forgot it."

"I guess maybe," I said doubtfully, frowning and staring at the jacket in my hands.

“Let me drive you home," he said when we got out in the parking lot. It was so cold I could see our breath, and I could feel myself sobering up by the second. I was glad I drank that cup of coffee. "I won't take no for an answer. You’re in no shape to drive."

"Oh, that’s okay. I walked here," I said but he really wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me to him. He kissed me again, and I felt myself stretching up against him. I hadn't expected my day to end up like this.

I was silent for a minute. "I don't usually go around kissing strange men."

"Well, you've been bad, and need to be spanked," he said.

I laughed again, my breath puffing out in big clouds. "Don't tease me, Colonel Hogan."

We walked to his car and he opened the door for me. I don’t know what kind of car it was, small and dark blue. There wasn’t a corner or angle anywhere, it was just curve after curve. “Wow,” I said. “Cars have sure changed since I moved to New York. This is beautiful.” I ran my hand along the side of the trunk, up the window to the roof, then slid inside. It was nice looking inside, too, little bucket seats with a console between them, and the steering wheel looked like it came out of an airplane. I pulled my planner back out of my purse and wrote ‘Cool Car’ at the bottom of the list. When Rick got inside and started the engine the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree, and the radio started playing an old ZZ Top song.

The drive back to Jenny's house seemed to fly by. His car was a stick shift, and it was fascinating watching him drive. There were hills and stop signs and corners, so he was constantly shifting and moving his feet, like he was dancing. He was such a good driver it felt like we were floating the whole way. He knew exactly where to go, which surprised me until he said he gave Jenny a ride home when her car broke down at Don’s one day. When we finally got to Jenny's house Billy was looking out the door waiting for me. Rick and I stood in the driveway for a couple of minutes talking.

"I have to see you again," he said. "Please don't say no."

"I don't know," I answered. "I'm not sure we should. I barely know you.” I looked down at my shoes, trying to sort out the feelings running through me. I wanted to touch him, to feel his arms around me, but I knew it couldn’t last. In a few days I would be back in New York, and I would probably never see him again. I looked up at him, and realized if I was going to regret anything, I would rather regret saying yes than saying no. “I don't even know your last name."

"Richard Lynn Gilbert, at your service," he said with a bow. "Now, will you go out with me tomorrow?"

"No," I answered, "but you can come over for dinner if you'd like.”

“I’d love to,” he said.

I remembered what Maria said. “Do you like toast?"

“Toast?” he asked and raised his eyebrows. "I love toast," he answered and leaned over, pressing me against Jenny's car and kissing me again. Maria was right, I thought. I slid my arms inside his jacket and held on to him, smelling his cologne. I heard the front door slam shut and remembered Billy standing there watching us. When I walked inside Billy made sure I noticed he was ignoring me.

Sassafras, Part 17

Joan


I took another drink of my beer, sucked up the last of my cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, and then looked at Rick again. That was when I saw it. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was the way his face was tilted, or the way he smiled just a little, but I suddenly recognized him, or at least who he reminded me of, and I couldn’t help but laugh. That night was just getting stranger and stranger.

He wanted to know why I was laughing, and I admitted he reminded me of somebody. I didn’t want to tell him who. It was just way too embarrassing. Finally I decided what the hell. It’s not like I hadn’t already embarrassed myself tonight. So I told him he looked like Colonel Hogan. Rick filled my glass up and I leaned back in the booth and started telling him all about the enormous crush I had on Colonel Hogan when I was little.

Having something to talk about helped calm me down. I lit another cigarette and sipped my beer, remembering how much I used to want to go out with Colonel Hogan, how much I wanted him to kiss me like he kissed all those blonde secretaries, and that reminded me of how Rick had kissed me. He even acted like Colonel Hogan, and I realized I liked it. He was confident but not arrogant, attractive but not conceited. When he looked at me I felt like I was somebody special, not just Jenny’s Sister. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room, in the world.

When I mentioned that Colonel Hogan never had a mustache Rick said he would shave his off if I wanted, but I didn’t want him to. I looked at him and remembered how it felt when he kissed me, how his mustache had felt when it brushed against my cheek, how I melted in his arms. I tried to remember if I had ever kissed a man with a mustache before, but couldn't think of anybody else. None of the guys in college had mustaches, and the four or five men in New York I dated didn’t either. I looked at his lips and wanted him to kiss me again. I didn’t care if it was right or not. I reached over and touched his mustache, then leaned up and kissed him.

I don’t know which of us was more surprised. You could hardly really call it a kiss. I barely touched his lips before my nerves caught up with me. I leaned back and felt his arm slide off the back of the booth and onto my shoulder again. He was smiling, and offered to take me on a tour of his tunnels. I laughed and tried to relax, but I could feel my heart racing again, and it felt like my stomach was doing cartwheels. It took a minute to realize what I was feeling wasn’t anxiety or fear or embarrassment. I didn’t want to run away, or hide. I wanted to stay right there, with his arm around me, my hand resting on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. I tried to remember my first crush. There had been a boy on my street when I was 14 who I suddenly realized was perfect. His name was Tom, and he was a senior, which to my eyes made him a man. I used to spend hours dreaming about him, imagining our first kiss, what I would say, what he would do, how perfect it would be. I didn’t have to imagine what Rick’s kisses felt like. I didn’t think I would ever be able to forget.

My hair had fallen down again, and I started to reach up and pull it back, but Rick’s hand was already brushing it out of my eyes. I felt the back of his fingers against my cheek, then he lifted my chin and kissed me again. When he kissed me I forgot about everything. I didn’t think at all, I just kissed him, and felt his hand cupping my face, his arm pulling me against him. I could smell his cologne, and tasted the beer still lingering on his tongue. I realized my hand was running through his hair, but I didn’t remember putting it there.

Eventually we stopped, and I curled up next to him, resting my head on his chest. I could still feel a little dampness where I had cried so hard that I felt like I was breaking, but that seemed like another lifetime. I felt him running his hand through my hair, and closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat. This had to be a dream, I thought. There was no way this was really happening.

I could have stayed like that all night long, but Rick needed to go to the restroom. I think he was worried about me because he made me promise to stay right there. He was probably wondering if I was a little bit crazy the way I had been acting that night, but at least he wanted me to stay.

The waitress came by and asked if I needed anything before the kitchen closed, but I told her everything was fine.

“You and Rick make a cute couple,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said and felt myself start blushing. “You know Rick?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a regular. He’s been coming here a couple of months. Ever since he got out of Bowling Green and moved here. He comes in here two or three times a week, usually just has a sandwich or something. Sometimes he stays and plays pool for a while. He’s usually alone. It’s nice to see him with somebody for a change.”

“He seems real nice.”

“Oh, he is. If he’d moved here a year ago when I was single I would have been all over him, but too late now,” she said and patted her belly. I hadn’t even realized she was pregnant. “Well, if you need anything you let me know.”

After she left I decided to get up and stretch a little or I was afraid I would fall asleep. That would really impress Rick. When I stood up I had to hold onto the back of the booth for a minute because the room started spinning. I tried to remember how much I had to drink. There was the one beer I bought, the one the bartender gave me, and the one Rick bought, that made three. I’m small, barely 5’ 2”, and 110 pounds. Three beers is pretty much my limit. The pitcher was almost empty, so that was probably three or four more. Thinking about all that beer made me realize I needed to go to the restroom again. When I started to walk I noticed high heels and too much beer were a dangerous combination, so I kicked off my shoes and tottered to the restroom.

Sassafras, Part 16

Joan


We started talking, and before I knew it I was babbling on and on about work. I didn’t want to bore him, so I had to think of something else to talk about. I remembered he had been telling me about computers, explaining about cyber sex. I noticed my hand was resting on his thigh so I started telling him how people in school used to write secret messages on each other, sort of like primitive cyber sex. I told him we used to do that in school, but I lied. I never had a boyfriend in high school. The only dates I ever had were pity dates arranged by Jenny. Nobody ever wanted to write me secret messages.

I spelled KISS on his thigh, and showed him a couple of the variations. After that he tried it, but he cheated. I was watching his finger spelling out ‘I’ when he leaned over and actually kissed me. I guess I should have seen that coming, but I was so surprised I almost dropped my cigarette. I tried to back away from him, but he still had his arm around me. I felt his hand caress my cheek, run up into my hair and pull me even closer to him. His tongue slid into my mouth, and it felt wonderful. Usually when a man shoved his tongue down my throat I felt invaded, like the Marines were landing on Normandy, but this was different. His tongue barely touched mine, gently caressing the tip. Before I knew it my tongue was curling around his, exploring his mouth.

I put down my cigarette, then closed my eyes and reached up, touched his face, felt his jaw, his cheek. I remembered thinking if we were in that hypothetical Middle Eastern country he would definitely have to marry me now. My heart started beating so hard I thought my whole body was going to start shaking. I don’t know how long I kissed him before I came to my senses. I never kiss anybody on a first date, and this wasn’t even a first date, just a casual encounter with a stranger in a bar. After I pushed away I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look at him. He surprised me by apologizing for kissing me, instead of trying for seconds.

I was never very good around men. In high school I was always in Jenny’s shadow, and then in college I made a series of spectacularly bad choices, which left me with the lasting impression that men were selfish, thoughtless, and dangerous. I didn’t have a real boyfriend until I went to college. We went out for about two months before I realized we had more study dates than real dates, but I thought any date was a good thing. I would have done anything for him, including having sex for the first time in the back seat of his Oldsmobile, the windows fogging up so much droplets ran down like little rivers. It wasn’t until afterwards that I found out he was also dating someone else, a girl from his French class. He laughed when I asked him about her.

Then my roommate talked me into going to a party the engineering department was throwing. I didn’t really want to go, but I thought what could happen at an engineering party? They would probably just sit around and talk about math or whatever engineers talk about. I was wrong. One of the guys was really nice to me. He kept giving me some kind of red punch, and the next thing I knew he asked me if I wanted a tour of the engineering department. He looked harmless enough, the kind of guy my mom would like, but his tour started and ended in the stair well. He started kissing me, and when I tried to make him stop he just pushed me down on the stairs and kept kissing me, his hands groping all over. When I think about that night I can still feel the edges of the stairs digging into my neck and my back. After a few minutes somebody else came in the stair well and I was finally able to push him off of me and run back to my room.

My last attempt at dating in college was the worse. I ended up in such a bad relationship I ended up moving to New York to get away from him. I ended up with my job at Starburst Properties and never looked back. It was hard work, but I loved it.

I assumed there were decent men out there somewhere, and I kept looking for one, but for some reason none of them ever showed any interest in me. I had as much evidence of Bigfoot, UFOs, or a second gunman on the grassy knoll as I had of a trustworthy man. Whenever I tried to go out and meet men I would get so stressed I would break out in hives, covered with hundreds of tiny red bumps, and if a man ever approached me I would freeze, feeling like a little bunny being sized up by a wolf.

I felt that familiar tight feeling in my chest start. I wanted to pick up my cigarette, but I was afraid my hand might shake. I hated feeling like that. If Rick hadn’t been sitting in the way I would have bolted for the door. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. Usually, if I went on what I called a meditation vacation, just visualize myself stretched out in the sun on a beach somewhere, a breeze blowing in my hair, I would start to calm down. I did that all the time on the subway, although I learned the hard way not to close my eyes. This time it didn’t work. This time I visualized Rick stretched out next to me on the beach, his skin warm and salty, handing me a Mai-tai with a little yellow umbrella, and that just made me even more nervous.

I finally picked up my mug and took a drink, but I held it in both hands just in case I had the shakes. I glanced over at Rick, but when I saw he was watching me I looked away. I took another drink, then decided I didn’t care if my hand shook a little, I needed that cigarette. I needed a pack of cigarettes. I reminded Rick that Public Displays of Affection weren’t allowed, but he reminded me I wasn’t still in high school. I felt like I was. I felt like I was about 14, a little runt fighting a loosing battle with pimples, still wondering when I would ever need anything more than a training bra, hiding behind a book so I wouldn’t have to think of something to say if anybody started talking to me. Yeah, I was quite a catch in high school.

Sassafras, Part 15


Joan



I know it’s hard to believe that somebody who can negotiate with millionaires and senators could become completely unhinged by just talking to a normal, ordinary man, but it seemed to happen to me every time. Maria had no idea how hard it was going to be for me to meet her at Chachi’s without breaking into hives all over my body. If I hadn’t already had a couple of beers before Rick bumped into me I wouldn’t have been able to put two words together. I still can’t believe the first thing I ever said to him was that in some Middle Eastern countries he would have to marry me. That must have been a line from an old movie that had been lurking in some hidden corner of my mind, just waiting for the right opportunity to embarrass me. I said it before I even realized I opened my mouth. Yeah, holy shit was right, I thought.

I expected him to leave me alone after that, but for some reason he kept talking to me. At first I had been nervous, but when I realized he just wanted to talk about Jenny, like everybody in the entire town, and wasn’t interested in me, I relaxed. He seemed like a really nice man. He was definitely nice to look at. He had short black hair, dark brown eyes, and a strong jaw. He had a mustache that was trimmed up nice and neat, not one of those big bushy overgrown ones, or one of those that hang down the sides of his mouth. He was the kind of man I just automatically assume is either married or gay. Not somebody I would ever have a chance with. He asked to buy me a drink to make up for spilling mine, and I decided to let him. I thought I would finish that beer about the same time he would run out of things to say about Jenny and we would both go our separate ways.

I never expected to actually enjoy talking to him. Maybe it was because we were at Tanner’s instead of some noisy, crowded club in New York, or maybe I should blame it on Budweiser, but I felt so comfortable talking with him I didn’t want to leave when I finished the beer he bought me. It was nice to be able to relax and not worry about work, or think about Jenny or Billy or Mom or all the hundreds of little details I was always juggling in my head. I actually laughed at something he said. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I laughed at something that I wasn’t watching on TV.

When Rick suggested we split a pitcher of beer I thought of what Maria said. I deserved to have a little fun. I was going to enjoy myself if it was the last thing I did. If a good-looking man wanted to have a couple of drinks with me who was I to argue? While we waited for the pitcher I decided to go use the restroom. I studied my reflection in the mirror while I washed my hands. I wasn’t bad looking. Sometimes men told me I was beautiful, but I knew they were just trying to get in my pants. Jenny had always been the good-looking one. Even Deana, with her red hair and big nose, was better looking than me. I thought about calling her and telling her I was at Tanner’s with the best looking man in Sassafras, but decided not to. What if she got here and he saw us both side by side. Would he still want to spend any time with me?

Once I started the What If game it started getting out of control. At work What If was what made me so successful. I could come up with ten different ways to market a building. What if it was a restaurant, a warehouse, a school, or an apartment building? But in my private life What If is what had kept me single all this time, and that night was no different. I started wondering what if he was married? What if he was just trying to get laid? What if he was just being nice to me because he knew Jenny? What if he had dated Jenny, and just wanted to see how the little sister compared? I finally told myself it didn’t really matter what if. Nothing was going to happen. All we were going to do was talk and drink a little beer. What if he got tired of waiting for me to come out of the restroom and left? That was what I should be worrying about.

When I walked out of the restroom I could see he wasn’t sitting in the booth. I thought maybe he decided to go to the restroom, too, but then when I got closer to the booth I saw the pitcher of beer, with one lonely mug sitting next to it. Nobody takes a glass of beer with them to the restroom. He was gone.

I can’t really describe the horrible empty feeling I got. I was completely crushed. When I was little, four or five, my mother took Jenny and me to a mall. Back then there were only two or three malls within 60 miles of Sassafras, but I don’t have any idea which one we went to. I saw a pet store with a bunch of puppies in the front, and stopped to watch them play. I don’t know how long I stood there watching them. One kept jumping up and licking where I had my little hands pressed against the glass. I turned around to tell Mom I wanted to take the puppy home and realized she was gone. I was all alone and I was terrified.

I was running around yelling for my mommy when a stranger picked me up. I was too little to know he was a mall security guard. I started screaming as loud as I could and kicking my legs so hard I lost both of my shoes. I screamed and screamed until I couldn’t scream any more, all that came out was a wheezy gasp. That poor man probably lost half the hearing in his right ear that day. I’m not sure where he took me, mall security or the customer service desk, maybe it was one of the stores in the mall, but suddenly I heard my mom call my name and felt her take me out of his arms. We were both crying. She sank down on the floor and held me in her lap, rocking back and forth.

When I thought Rick was gone I felt like that little girl again. It wasn’t just that he was gone, although that was part of it. Everybody was gone. My dad was dead, my mom might as well be, and now Jenny was gone, too. I was alone, just like that little girl so long ago, but this time I knew I was never going to find my mommy. No one loved me. No one cared if I lived or died. I was going to be alone forever. I started feeling light headed and dizzy so I sat down in the booth and put my head down on the table.

Imagine you’re drowning. In the seconds right before you die you feel somebody grab your hand and save your life. Take all the emotions you’re feeling then and multiply them by about a hundred and you would have an idea of what I felt when I heard Rick say my name and felt him sit down next to me. The next thing I knew he was holding me and I was crying for Jenny, and for myself, and for him. He held me in his arms until I couldn’t cry any more. Even after I stopped crying he held me, and I didn’t want him to ever let go.

Other men had put their arms around me, but this wasn’t the same. Eventually their hands would start roaming around, and sooner or later they would be groping my ass or my breasts. I felt Rick’s hands moving on my shoulder and up and down my back, but it almost felt like he was afraid to touch me, like he was trying to make each touch as soothing and gentle as possible, like he thought I was something precious and delicate that might shatter if he wasn’t careful. I slid my arm around his waist and closed my eyes, but couldn’t get comfortable. His shirt was wet where I had cried all over it, I needed to blow my nose, and I wanted a cigarette. Rick moved a little and told me to hold on, then leaned over, pressing me backwards. I grabbed onto his side, and felt his arm holding me, then he sat back down and handed me the napkin dispenser.

I sat up and blew my nose, but he kept his arm around me. It felt good, like it was supposed to be there. I wanted to say something to him, but couldn’t think of the right thing to say. When I was working I never had to search for words, but whenever things got personal I never knew what to say. ‘Thanks for not grabbing my ass’ didn’t sound quite right. I finally just settled on apologizing for crying all over him. He was very nice about it, but I felt like a fool. I told him I wanted to leave, but he convinced me to stay a little longer.