Sassafras, Part 4



Joan

I tried calling a couple of times to let Billy know I was coming, but nobody ever answered. I guess he must have been over at the neighbor's. I left a couple of messages, letting him know when my plane would be in. I don't remember anything about the flight. I don't remember who sat next to me, what color the seats were, nothing. I was waiting for my luggage when I saw Billy walking up. I didn't see him until he was right in front of me, surrounded by three boys I thought must be the neighbors the woman on the phone talked about. They looked like real juvenile delinquents, with long, wild hair, baggy pants hanging half-way to their knees, and ratty looking jackets. I tried to smile at Billy, but it felt like my face had frozen.

I looked at him, thinking how much he looked like his father, which was a good thing because I don't think I could have looked at him if he had looked like Jenny. He was taller than me, but wasn't as tall as his father. I could tell he was still growing. He was thin, with short brown hair, a little lighter than his father's but not as blond as Jenny's. When he got closer I could see his eyes. I had forgotten that he had brown eyes like his father's. I had been expecting to see Jenny's eyes again. One of my bags came down the chute right then, and the boys that I thought were juvenile delinquents jumped up and wrestled it off the conveyor belt for me when I started trying to lift it up. Maybe I was wrong about them.

When both my bags finally surfaced, the two oldest neighbors, Tom and Steve, carried them while Scott, the youngest, was content to take my carryon bag. I was going to rent a car, but Billy said I should just drive his mom's car, and I didn't want to argue with him. I had to bite my tongue, because I remembered Jenny's car. It was some little Japanese car, old and worn out. Even Jenny had admitted it was a real piece of crap. She could barely afford to keep it running, but there was no way she would have been able to buy a new car. When Mom had her stroke I told Jenny she should keep Mom's car and drive it until Mom got better and got out of the nursing home, but Jenny wouldn't do it. When she realized Mom wasn't going to be getting out of the nursing home Jenny sold Mom's car and paid hospital bills with the money.

It took more than an hour and a half to get to Sassafras from the airport. I hated to admit it, but it felt good to be going home. It was like going back in time. Nobody said much on the way home. There was some talk about a video game, and something going on this weekend, but nothing about why I was back in town. When we got closer to town and Tom pulled onto the new highway I was lost. We passed a sign saying we were in the city limits of Sassafras, population 1,984. I remembered when I was in school there had been over 3,000 people in Sassafras. I could see an overpass in the distance, Wal-Mart and three or four other buildings huddled together on one side. From the exit I saw a big square building looking out over the highway with a sign across the front that said Don’s Mix n Match Café and knew that must be the new building Jenny told me the diner had moved to that spring.

When we pulled up in Jenny's driveway it was already getting dark. A light came on the porch across the street, and a woman came out and waved. I tried to remember what the woman on the phone said her name was, but couldn't remember. I waved back and told the boys to take my bags inside.

When I walked across the street I could see the woman better. She was tall, and had short spiky hair. It made her look like a neglected Chia Pet covered with dead, brown grass. That was when I recognized her, although in school she didn't look like that, her hair had been long and silky. She had gone to school with Jenny and me. I couldn't remember her name at first; just that she had been a cheerleader. She shook my hand and told me how sorry she was that this happened. As soon as I heard her talk I remembered her name, Sara Weil. She had been in the grade below me at school, and I had been two grades below Jenny. I was talking to her when a car pulled in the driveway and her husband got out. He was an older version of the three boys who were unloading my bags, tall and husky, with bushy dark hair.

"This is my husband, Phil Kennedy," Sara said. "He's the manager of the Purina plant in Kelly.”

We shook hands and said hello. It was like nobody wanted to actually say Jenny was dead. I thanked them for watching Billy, and asked if the police knew anything? Sara didn't know anything more, but gave me a business card from the officer who had come to tell Billy about his mother. Detective Mark Sneider. The Kennedy boys all walked over and joined us, bags safely stowed inside. There was a round of thank you’s and it's no bothers, then I walked back home to see what Billy was up to.

Jenny's home was small, with tan siding and brown trim. There were flower beds across the front that were full of bare branches of summer plants, a couple of big pink mums on the corners. There were still Halloween decorations up. A smiling scarecrow sat on a chair on the porch surrounded by black cats and little witches stirring even smaller cauldrons. The trees in the front yard were full of little fluttering white plastic bags tied up to look like ghosts.

Billy was sitting at a small desk in the corner of the living room, engrossed in a computer. I asked him if he was hungry, but he said no. I looked in the refrigerator, and found some left over spaghetti. I had forgotten what a good cook Jenny was until I tasted the first fork full. It was a shame she had wasted her life waiting tables when she could cook like that. She could have made a lot of money cooking at fancy restaurants in New York. Now it was too late.

When I finished eating I checked on Billy again, but he was still glued to the computer. I picked up the business card that Sara gave me. It was late, but I decided what the hell. I needed to know what was going on. I didn't want to bother Billy, so I took my cell phone out of my purse and walked out onto the back deck. It was chilly outside, so I grabbed my coat. I dialed the number on the card, and lit a cigarette while the phone was ringing.

"Hello, Detective Sneider."

"Hi, my name if Joan Weaver, I'm calling about my sister, Jenny."

"Well, I'm not in the office right now, so I don't have the file with me, but I'll tell you what I can remember. A deliveryman noticed her lying on the side of the road in front of Scott's Hardware, half up on the curb. He called 911, but when the paramedics got there she was already dead. There was broken glass and what looks like pieces of trim. We won't know for sure until the coroner is finished, but it looks like a hit and run. We collected the evidence, but I don't know if we can ID the type of car involved. Other than that, there really isn't very much I can tell you. The last time she was seen was about midnight at a bar called Tanner's. It looks like she was walking home when she was hit."

"Where is she, I mean, where is her body now? I need to start planning the funeral in the morning."

"The coroner still has her body. You would have to call their office and find out when they will release her body. I start work at 8, if you want to come in to the station and we can talk then. You can call the coroner from the station; he should be in by 9 or 9:30. I'm sorry I don't have more information to give you. It's a tragedy that such a young woman had to die like that, leaving a son behind. I knew them both from the restaurant. She was a really nice lady."

"Thank you. I'll be in to see you in the morning."

After I hung up I stayed on the back deck, smoking another cigarette, and trying to figure out what to do. Why did Jenny have to die? I felt like a bitch, but I kept thinking it should have been Mom to die, not Jenny. Then I wondered if anybody had even told Mom that Jenny was dead. One more thing for me to dread doing. I had to deal with the police, coroner, and funeral director. Then I had to find out what to do with Billy. There's no way for both of us to fit in the tiny apartment I had in New York, so I would have to move.

A tiny voice in the back of my head said to move back to Sassafras, but that was crazy talk. I had been miserable here, couldn't wait to get out. The farther the better. I had thought about moving west, maybe Phoenix or LA, but ended up in the Big Apple. That was my home now. I had a good job, and the neighborhood I lived in wasn't too bad. A little run down but not dangerous. No drive-by shootings or hookers turning tricks in the alley. Sure, I'd have to find a bigger apartment, but I had wanted to move for a while anyway. It would be hard for Billy moving and starting a new school, missing his mom and all his friends.

I flicked my butt out into the yard and looked at my watch. 6:45 and already pitch black and freezing cold. In New York the night would just be starting. The popular clubs didn't even open until 9. I stood up and rubbed my hands on my arms. Freaking cold. My breath came out in big white clouds, and then faded away in the wind. When I turned to go back inside I noticed a plaque beside the door. It showed a little figure in a blue dress and big yellow sunbonnet, bending over to water a flower. Underneath that it said, "Welcome to my happy home" and beneath that was a row of tiny red hearts. Yeah, welcome home, I thought.