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.