Sassafras, Part 10


Joan


When I pulled off the highway, I decided to stop at the new Wal-Mart and bought some coffee and a cheap coffee maker, some poster board to make a photo display on for the viewing, and some odds and ends. I remembered how excited Jenny had been about the new Wal-Mart. There had been rumors that the Wal-Mart in Sassafras was going to close, but then when they put in the new highway extension they decided to just move to the overpass. Sure, Sassafras wasn’t a thriving town anymore, but the new highway gave Sassafras a direct connection to Bond and Stoneypoint. A couple of times I thought I saw the man who had been sitting in back of Deana at Don’s, but there were probably 50 men in Sassafras with dark hair and a blue shirt.

Sassafras only had one bank, the Mercantile Savings and Loan. It was in what was left of downtown. I noticed half of the stores downtown had gone out of business. There were a few still hanging on, a used bookstore, an insurance agency, a gas station, but S & P Groceries was closed, and so were the furniture store and the Dairy Queen. The building Wal-Mart used to be in was empty, the parking lot cracked and full of trash. I remembered when they opened that Wal-Mart. I had been 8 and Sassafras had been a growing town then, the biggest town in 25 miles and growing bigger every year. About a year after they built it two of the plants in town closed and even Wal-Mart started going downhill. I remember when Dad came home and said his factory had closed. It took him six months to get another job, selling insurance in Bond. I don’t guess Sassafras ever really recovered from the plant closings, but Deana said when they extended that highway Sassafras started really falling apart.

When I pulled into the bank’s parking lot I noticed that even though the big sign still said Mercantile Savings and Loan, the window said Bank of America. I guess even the bank had gone out of business, or been bought out. I went in the bank and got the complete run around. I needed a paper from probate court before I could get access to any of her banking information. They wouldn’t even tell me how much she owed on her house. I couldn’t get in her safety deposit box because I didn’t have the key. They said she didn’t even have a safety deposit box, but Billy said she had one. That was the only bank in town, so it had to be there. On the other hand, Billy was listed on the bank accounts, so if I had brought him in we could have at least found out about everything except the safety deposit box. I was starting to get angry. Jenny had some nerve dying and leaving all this behind.

That night, I started talking to Billy finally.

"You'll love New York, Billy. There are a lot of really great schools, and museums, and every sport you can imagine," I said, but Billy wouldn't listen.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Aunt Jo, I'm not moving to New York. I'm going to stay right here. I'm not going."

"Billy, you can't stay here, you still have two years of high school, and then what about college? You can't stay here."

"I can, too. I get $600 from the Marines for Dad every month, and I'll get a job. Mr. Kennedy said he could get me a job at the factory."

"I know you want to stay here, Billy. I understand. You don't want to leave your house and your friends. I don't want to be the bad guy, but you can't stay here by yourself."

"Fine, then I'll move in with Steve and Scott next door. I spend the night over there all the time."

"Billy, you...

"Shut up, Aunt Jo! I'm not going! You can't make me and I'm not going! You don't care about anybody but yourself. You never cared about Grandma, or Mom and me. You act like I'm a little kid. I'm not a baby Aunt Jo. I've been taking care of myself for years," he said. "And nobody calls me Billy anymore. Billy's a baby's name. Everybody calls me Bill. I'm not going!" He stormed out of the house, slamming the door and stomping down the stairs.

I wanted to storm right out after him and tell him he was wrong, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. He needed to calm down before he would hear anything I said; no matter how loudly I said it. Besides, a part of me knew what he had said was true. With the hours Jenny had been working, I’m sure he had been taking care of himself, especially since Mom’s stroke.

He was also right about me. I had been more worried about how Jenny’s death was affecting me than how it was affecting Billy. I had been so wrapped up in myself I hadn’t really listened to what he said, or cared about what he wanted. Every time anybody said how important Jenny had been to them, I had actually gotten jealous of her. Saint Jenny, the patron saint of small towns and waitresses everywhere.

I really needed to do something to take my mind off everything. It was only about 7:30, and I decided to go for a walk, too. I picked up my cigarettes and put on my coat. I didn't know where I was going, I just started walking. In New York I walked all the time. I still had a Missouri driver’s license, but I hadn't even owned a car since I moved there 8 years ago. I hadn't walked down these roads since Jenny and I were in high school. We grew up in a house just three blocks from the house Jenny bought. Walking brought back a lot of memories. I passed the empty house we used to hide out in when we skipped school. It looked like somebody had fixed it up, but it was empty again now, the grass tall and brown.

I passed the house Bill Bota used to live in, where Jenny would to sneak out and meet him at night, climbing up onto the roof of the garage and then in his bedroom window. I used to think that was so romantic. I wondered who lived there now. His family had moved to Phoenix a year or two after Bill’s death. Had Billy called them? I didn’t even know their phone number, but I was sure Billy would have it. Would his whole family come for the funeral, or just his grandparents? I couldn’t remember how many aunts and uncles Billy had. Bill was from a big family. I remembered three sisters, and at least one or two brothers, but one of his sisters had died of leukemia when she was in elementary school. It was the first time I had known anybody that died. She had been in my grade, and I remember she didn’t look like she was sleeping in her casket. It didn’t even really look like her, it looked more like one of those mannequins in department stores. She had lost a lot of weight, and I could tell she had a wig on. I didn’t think she was really dead, but when she never came back to school I realized she was really gone.

When I got to the railroad tracks I started turning left when I noticed something. I was walking to Tanner's. Jenny and I used to walk there all the time. We used to hang out there after school, drinking sodas, playing pool and flirting with the bartender. But I wasn't going to pass in front of Scott's, and that was where they found Jenny's body. The way we always walked, when you got to the railroad tracks, you turned left and cut through the alley a block away from Scott's. If you walked in front you added almost three blocks and had to walk up the hill that led to 2nd street. Even if Jenny was so drunk she took a wrong turn, she wouldn't have walked up the hill, she would have turned around. That just didn't make sense.

I turned right and walked up the hill. I didn't know where they found her body, and wished I had looked at the pictures Detective Sneider had in that folder. I walked down the sidewalk until I saw light sparkling on the street, like reflecting off snow. It was hundreds of little pieces of glass, all piled up on the side of the street. I sat down on the curb in the middle of the glass. Was this where her body landed? Was this where she died? I picked up a piece of glass and held it up to the streetlight. It looked like a little diamond.

I wanted to cry. My throat was tight, like I was choking. My eyes stung, and I was sniffling, but no tears came. I lit a cigarette, trying to calm down. My hands were shaking. What I needed was a drink. I stood up and walked down the block and turned left. I could see Tanner's at the bottom of the hill, neon signs in the window winking, beckoning me like messages from heaven. Tanner's wasn't a very impressive place. It used to be a bowling alley back in the 70s, and still had a big sign shaped like a bowling ball on the roof. Across the front of the building was a long porch, with chairs and little tables but it was too cold for anybody to be sitting outside that night.
I went inside and hung my coat on one of the pegs lining the wall by the door. They were busy, but most of the people were over by the dartboards. There was some kind of tournament or something. People were cheering and clapping and occasionally booing. The bartender got me a beer. I didn't recognize him. I don't know why I had been expecting the same bartender after almost 10 years. He was short and blonde, but looked like he could kick some ass.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked when I sat down.

“Just a Budweiser,” I said and looked around. They still had Halloween decorations up, fake spider webs, posters of ghosts and mummies drinking beer. When we were in high school Jenny and I would have talked the bartender into letting us take the decorations down for a frozen pizza and a couple of sodas. We might have even been the ones putting them up in the first place.

"I haven't seen you in here before. My name’s Matt. Just move to town?" the bartender asked as he pulled the cap off the bottle and set it down in front of me.

"No, I used to live here when I was in school. I'm just here for a funeral."

"Oh, you must be a friend of Jenny's."

"No, I'm her sister," I said. "I was her sister. I still can't believe she's dead.”

“She was a real nice lady."

"Yeah. She was my big sister. It's not the same without her. Were you working the night she died?"

"Yeah, I was working. I wish I'd have known what was going to happen. Maybe I could have driven her home or something, and none of this would ever have happened. She was a real nice lady."

A man from the dart competition walked up to the bar and ordered a round of drinks, so the bartender went on about his business. I took a big drink of my beer, trying to drown the memory of the light sparkling off all that glass in the street. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right. Jenny shouldn't be dead. She should be sitting next to me, not on her way to Whispering Acres.

I looked around again. It felt nice being back. Maybe because it brought back memories of the days when the only things I had to worry about were homework and library fines. I thought about New York. I had fun when I went out to museums and plays, but I didn’t go to clubs or bars very much. It always felt like I was a goldfish in a room full of piranhas. Being in Tanner’s was like visiting an old friend.

When the bartender finished taking care of his customers he came back with another beer. "On the house," he said. "In memory of Jenny."

"Thanks," I said, and downed what was left in my first beer. The bartender took the empty bottle and threw it in the trashcan under the bar. "Tell me about Jenny. I hadn't seen her in more than a year. Did she come here a lot?"

"Maybe once or twice a week. She'd come in with some friends, or once in a while when she worked nights at Don's she would stop by here after work and have a beer or two. She used to bring me those great big cinnamon rolls if there were any left at the end of the day. She was nice."

"Yeah, she was nice. Did she bring you a roll that night?"

"No, she wasn't working that night. She just came in."

"Did she meet any of her friends?"

"No, just had a couple of beers and left. She didn't deserve to die like that."

"I know. She had a son, Billy. Now I'm the only family he has."

"Bill's a good kid. He comes in here every now and then, usually with those Kennedy boys. They play pool after school, horse around with each other. Nice kids. My sister has a boy, evil little brat. Anybody that meets him wants to punch him right in the mouth within 15 minutes."

I laughed. "I'm glad Billy's not like that. Right now he's being difficult. He's fighting me about moving after the funeral. Wants to stay here with his friends, but I live in New York."

"New York, huh? Were you there when the Towers came down?"

"Yeah, I saw the whole thing. It was like watching a movie. I was far enough to be safe, but I could hear it. I could feel it even. Jenny tried to get me to move back here after that, but I stayed. Now I wish I had moved back. Maybe if I had been here that night she would have been ok."