Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part 16

 

 

“Mr. Thomas,” I said packing as much threatening in my tone I could, the man looming three feet behind me.

Having only seen him sitting behind his desk, I thought him taller. He stood a hand under me.

“Oh, I knew you’d love it.”

Hands on my hips, I turned left then right examining the makeshift six-foot chain-link fence as the sun struggled to illuminate the landscape, spring whispering in my ear, an incline rolled up beyond the fence, years of overgrowth, trees marching out of sight.

“Mr. Thomas, I told you not to –”

He came next to me, his hand barely grasping my upper arm, his other hand sweeping horizontally. “Toby, you have two hundred feet in the front, goes back four hundred feet –”

With the familiar violation of my person, my reaction was to turn, deliver a rabbit punch to his neck, at least pointedly pull my arm away. Instead, I calculated.

“That’s not two acres.”

“Almost!”

“1.8 is not two, Mr. Thomas.”

“How the fuck did you do that?”

I shrugged. “Good with numbers.”

He swept the arm again. “You’ve got almost two acres. It’s on the river.”

“Across the street from the river.”

Again, the arm swept. “You got almost two acres, right across the street from the river. The lot’s wooded, in town like you asked.”

“I said close to town. I don’t see a house.”

“This is the perfect property for you, in town, trees, almost two acres.”

“There’s no house.”

“I was flipping through the files. This has been on the market for a couple of years. Motivated seller, yet he’s got the price inflated. He’s asking twelve.”

“Grand? There’s no house.”

“That’s the thing, Toby.” He stepped close, his arm around my waist, his free hand reaching to dawn’s red cottony clouds. I expected him to speak of rabbits I could play with.

“The way you were talking about price is on object, you can afford anything I list, oh, look at all my money I’m rolling in –”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Maybe, just a little.”

“Your point?”

“We snatch this up, you can build your own house, right from the ground up. Your big kitchen, your eight fireplaces. Twenty-foot ceilings. A widow’s walk.” He waved his hand toward the fence. “You can even have a carriage house over there off the house.”

“What’s a widow’s walk?”

“Ha! I knew you didn’t know everything!”

I shrugged.

“A platform, like a porch, on top the house.”

I imagined myself on such a thing with Pamala, naked, dancing in a thunderstorm.

“There was a house, well, the remains are still there. That means you have gas, water, and sewage service.”

“Was?”

“It burned. Terrible. Eight people died in the fire. Mother, father, six children. I’m thinking that’s why buyers aren’t lining up.”

Working free, I said, “Mr. Thomas. I really appreciate your schtick. You’re a good salesman. However, never touch me again without invitation.”

He hit me with the Well, I never face, immediately, bowing with an arm swept in front of him. “I apologize.”

“Accepted,” I said, fingers high in the fence, going on my toes. “I have to see it.” I pulled myself off the ground, clawing up.

“Eh, that’s private property –”

Straddling the fence, I looked down on him. “I won’t be long, unless the ghosts get me. I will not buy a pig in a poke.” Dropping to the ground, I brushed myself off, not needing to. “Offer eight, I’ll pay ten. It’ll be a cash transaction. Will you proxy if needed?”

“Eh, sure. A point.”

I smirked, “Make it two.”

 

Jane’s dark eyes betrayed the river of pain she was drowning in as she tittered on crutches behind the desk. “Toby.”

“Jane.”

“Cab?”

“No.” I glanced behind me. We were alone. “As Michelle and I were leaving the high school, a boy came up on me like he was god’s gift to women.”

Her eye lids fluttered. “Go on.”

“We kept walking. He grabbed me.”

“Yes? Yes?”

“I really don’t like people touching me, doubly so – no, triply so with boys or men.”

“OK. And?”

“Watching his eyes, I put a palm to his chest, shoved, his feet tangled, he went backwards, down hard to the floor. I couldn’t be sure he got the message. I knelt, bounced his head off the floor, telling him two more times.”

Jane, with eyes closed, giggled a gruesome laugh. “Thank you.”

“Ralph.”

“We scoffed at the mere suggestion.”

“What’s it going to take? What can I do?”

“When I learned you’re going to get him to brush his hair, get him in suit and tie, that’s all I needed. He’s on a New York limousine run now with Hank, our regular driver.”

“Did he tell you I want him and the car for the day?”

“Not a problem. I have a contract here somewhere.”

“I have one right here.” I extended my hand across the desk.

We shook hands.

She winked. “Thanks for the story. And the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” I nodded behind her. “May I look at your map?”

“Where you trying to get to?”

I produced the note Mr. Thomas gave me. “Four addresses, a couple of towns over.”

“Let me bring a cab in.”

I shrugged. “I have my bicycle.”

 

Abiding by the Universe’s Rule of it’s Always the Most Distant, I decided to enjoy the almost cloudless sky and almost not cold almost spring day trekking the fourteen miles and change.

The house was on a property crowded with neighbors, neglected since three weeks after the Civil War ended. A small bungalow, once blue, the roof caved in on the side, plywood on the doors and windows, no signs of occupation. I lingered on the sidewalk, the three-foot chain-link fence not much of a deterrent, the elderly sour face pushed against the window in the house next door otherwise.

The second farthest house from my apartment brought me closer to the mall in the middle of one of the many tract house developments popping up like a pimple on picture day. The absence of tall trees was unsettling. Instead of rolling up on the sidewalk in front of the house attracting attention of window faces, I paused on the sidewalk across the street, surveying the surroundings, looking for signs of life in the abandoned house and the other houses.

The house was a pleasant cream, first floor doors and windows boarded up, not neglected since the Civil War. After twenty minutes, I decided watching wasn’t going to tell me anything.

Then, I said, “Fuck. Fucking asshole.”

My bicycle, that is to say my old bicycle, leaned against the side of the house, towards the back, poorly concealed in brush.

The plywood having been removed from the back door, the door surrendered to my shoulder.

A child – my age – rushed into the kitchen, stopping short. “Toby.”

I assumed Paul told her who I was.

Unfolding the newspaper article from my breast pocket, I held it eye level, looking from the picture to the face. She didn’t look like Jody Demarko, but she didn’t not look like her. “Who are you?”

“Jennifer. Jennifer Longe. Tex said –”

“I’m going to need to see some I.D.”

“What?”

“School I.D., library card, birth certificate.”

She retreated, I followed. In the living room, she rifled in a light blue duffle bag, presenting a book. “Yearbook?” She flipped pages. “Here I am.” She pointed.

I nodded sharply, satisfied. “Paul said you were raped by your father, brothers, uncle.”

“Huh? I don’t understand.”

I rolled my eyes. “He said that’s why you ran away, also his justification for raping you.”

“Huh? No and he didn’t rape me. We’re in a relationship.”

She should have stamped her foot. I offered up the shrug of all shrugs, puzzled why I would think a man wouldn’t lie to me. “Educate me. Why’d you runaway?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Living in an abandoned house without electricity and running water is embarrassing.”

“We have running water.”

“Oh, Jennifer. So not the fucking point. Tell me.”

She deflated. “I never told Tex anyone raped me.”

Again, a shrug that should have flattened the room. “I really don’t care about what Paul does or where he sticks his business as long as it’s not in me.”

“Paul?”

“Tex’s name.”

“He said Tex was what they named him.”

“Why’d you run away?”

“Why do you care?”

Good question. My hopes of saving Jody Demarko we’re dying a slow death in the darkness of my imaginings. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to save Demarko other than to present Demarko to Shawn. Somehow, I thought, at least, I could save Jennifer because I can’t save Jody.

“I give a fuck today.”

Jennifer deflated again, dropping on a sofa in the dim living room, pulling the duffle bag onto her lap. “I can’t do math.”

“A thing many people fail at.”

“But I’m not allowed!”

I growled under my breath. “Parents are assholes.”

“Right? We had this test. Right before the holidays. Half our grade for the semester!”

“Did you think to ask for help?”

“They laughed at me for being stupid.”

“What’s stupid is running away because you’re afraid of failing a test. I’m not laughing. They’re assholes.”

“Yeah, it was. Not just that. Dad said if I didn’t pass the test, no Christmas for me. I’d get locked in my room.”

I looked in all directions. “You can’t do this.”

“Live like this? Yeah, I know. Gosh, Toby, they have to be so mad at me. Dad’s going to beat me to within an inch of my life.”

“Has he ever hit you before?”

“No.”

“I suspect the only way he’ll hurt you is hugging you too tight while he cries.”

“Think so?”

“I’d bet on it.”

“I’m just so scared.”

“I get that. Easier to just sit here, do nothing.

“Tex said he wouldn’t let me go.”

“Fuck him. Do you want to go home?”

She sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “More than anything.”

“I’m not a helpful person,” I grumbled to myself. “Don’t say anything to Paul. I’ll be back tomorrow at this time with a car. I’ll take you home. I’ll walk you in. I’ll make sure no one hits you. I’ll help you explain what happened. They’re understand.”

The wet face looked up. “You’d do all that for me?”

I nodded sharply, feeling powerful beyond belief.

 

“I really like how you’re doing your make up.”

Michelle blushed. “You’re my inspiration. I really get what you were saying about not growing up a girl. You, too, didn’t have anyone to show you the way.”

“Yeah, my mother. I read a lot, take it all in.”

“Your meatloaf is the best.”

“If you’re nice, I’ll make you a sandwich for work tomorrow. A little pepper, a touch of salt, a smear of mayo.”

“How do you know that?”

“I pay attention to those around me.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“Thinking is always good.”

“Pamala. When you hit me.”

“Yeah?”

“Well deserved. As I’ve gotten to know Pam, as I’ve gotten to watch her, she’s really beautiful.”

“I agree”

“You saw that immediately.”

“I did. I often see things – immediately – that others can’t. This morning, I stood in a lot looking at the hollowed-out corpse of a once magnificent house, blind to its death, seeing what it could be, reaching to the sky.”

“Like me, I mean Michelle.”

I blushed. “OK. Let’s say that and leave it there.”

“I’ll do the dishes, clean the kitchen when we’re done.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“When we first met.”

“Over the math thing.”

“Yes, that day. In the woods. Again, thinking. I ruined that for you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“You dance naked – there in the woods.”

“I do.”

“Will you? Sometime for me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I also wanted to say, I get what you said about church.”

“Levy and his family.”

“Mr. Palmer was like my father. A real asshole about church, our duty to God, all that.”

“I bet he got a hard on with me thrown out of church.”

Michelle stared at me for a long moment. “He was over-the-top judgmental too often. There was once at dinner he was going on and on –”

“Pontificating. He was pontificating.”

“GED word?”

“Yes.”

“He was pontificating about homosexuals with God and hellfire. I was tempted to stand up, pull my dress up, my panties down.”

“If you did manage to have the talk with Levy, you’d have forced him to choose between you and his family. Seeing as how we can’t stand in the water and not get wet, Levy would leave you bruised and bloody on the side of the road.”

“That’s the church I was talking about in the woods. You showed me the other church, the church you attend, there dancing naked in the woods.”

“When they’re not trying to prove how righteous they are by condemning people who are not like them, people in groups either by design or accident, manage to do some good. If I knew where the hungry children live, I’d not have to donate to the church.”

“I get that now.”

“Is my brother back in school?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard.”

“Tell me he’s dead, I may blow you.”

“Toby!”

“I’m not sure which has you so shocked.”

“That you’d even say you’d blow me.”

“I wouldn’t, but you know that.”

“Despite witnesses and semi-witnesses, a story cropped up that a gang of boys from Riversides invaded the school. Your bother and Joe fought them off, even as they tried to rape two girls, who were described much like you and me.”

 “Riversides boys are known for raping girls.”

“So, here’s Mark, taking his bows, kids cheering him on. As I heard it, the news people were going to interview him.”

“My God, Michelle, you’re going to get my hand down my pants.”

“Turns out, Mark is in the school illegally. Did you know that?”

“I did.”

“You could have burn him all this time and didn’t?”

“None of my business. I don’t believe in hurting people just because I can. What happened in the school was incidental, not intentional. If I ever decided to hurt Mark, they’d never find the body.”

Again, Michelle stared at me for a long time.

 

“Jessica,” I greeted.

“Toby, I’ll call you back.”

I watched the telephone for eight long minutes.

“Toby, what’s up?”

“Nothing earthshattering. I’d say I just wanted to hear your voice, but that would sound stalky and creepy.”

“You’re just flirting with me.”

“Your architect.”

“John Goldman. He drew blueprints for two of the pyramids. What about him?”

“I guess I should have said that I need an architect, can I have yours?”

“Sure. What for?”

“I want to build a house. He does that, doesn’t he?”

“His firm does, sure. He’s in Center City. Want to write this down?”

“I’m good.”

She gave me address and phone number. “I can make an appointment for you, let him know you’re coming, that you’re a personal friend of mine.”

“OK.”

“When?”

“Eh, early afternoon. I have a thing in the morning.”

“1PM tomorrow, then.”

“You don’t want to check with Mr. Goldman?”

“No need. We go way back.”

“You’re not old enough to go way back in anything.” I repeated the information. “Would you be the adult in the room to buy the lot?”

“Sure. Just let me know when settlement will be, what kind of loan –”

“Cash.”

“I should have guessed.”

“My realtor offered to proxy.”

“I’ve got this.”

“Thanks. I have an extra server. She’ll be with us the entire day, also in a tuxedo.”

“Skirt?”

“Her legs go all the way to her butt. Unlike me, she’s really good with people.”

“You and Pamala in tuxedos, too?”

“Absolutely.”

“Be sure to bring a change of –”

“Jessica.”

“You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”

“I did. Do you remember Toni? You met her briefly.”

“I do. Cute little thing. Reminded me of you. Stiffed me on the bill.”

“As I recall, since her boyfriend has the dick, he’s the one who stiffed you. You did get a chance to rip the ticket in Jake’s face.”

“Anyway.”

“She’s now Michelle. She’ll be doing scutwork. You just bit your lip, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“In my wild dream world where unicorns run free, I see her working her ass off, impressing the fuck out of you, where you offer her a scut job in our new restaurant.”

“You’re Fantasy Girl. You could simply wave your hand and make it so.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it. If she were working for me, I’d do just that.”

“I understand. I shall be objective. If I decide you’re being stupid, I’ll tell you.”

“Good.”

“This photographer?”

“Marcy Jones.”

“We want copies of everything she shoots.”

“Blackmail?”

“Defensive, not offensive.”

“It’s a good idea. I don’t approve. I understand. I’ll have a conversation with her.”

“You can offer her as much as –”

“I’ve got this.”

“Good.”

“I’ve hired a limousine for the day.”

“That’s a great idea. Bill used to take care of that.”

“I think it was Mary, whatever.”

 

“I’m not taking you away from anything?” I asked.

“Focus, Toby. I like dancing with you.”

“Don’t get all creepy on me, Cass.”

“I can love dancing with someone, and it means only that. I think you have this.”

“The routine is feeling comfortable, even if my double pops up in the mirror now and then.”

She laughed. “We can slide over –”

“I’m good. I’m nowhere near the other women.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you about that. The routine is for twelve.”

“I’ve notice.”

“When we do an event, and get a call out, we need someone to fill in.”

“Me?”

“I’d like to put you on the call list. You’re not great, but you’re not so bad.”

“I strive to be not so bad.”

“It takes time, practice, repetitions. How about tomorrow, 8 o’clock, we get you in the full costume, we put you in the mix, see how it feels.”

“Terrifying and exciting.”

“Everyone already loves you.”

“8 o’clock.”

“I want you, also, to consider joining us on the 21^st.”

“I’m working that party already.”

“Oh, not this one.”

“You keep saying that. Jessica Flores’ private party.”

“Really?”

I didn’t say it was my party.

 

“I won’t be over,” Pamala greeted when I answered the phone.

“I love you real and true anyway. Everything OK?”

“Yeah, Dad hurt his back. He could work, but we’re not hearing it. I’ll be in charge the rest of the week.”

“It’ll do you good.”

“That’s what I thought, though I’ll miss you so much my heart hurts just thinking about it. Peter could run things, he has before.”

“It’s good having people you can depend on.”

“Sister Carolina thought to give me detention.”

“For fucking in the parking lot?”

“I just blushed. Yeah. I explained I had work responsibilities, promised to – make out – in more appropriate places. She said next time I’d not get a work exemption. I’m getting half days, too, kind of like a work release thing.”

“I think you mean work study. I want to go to your school. Do the maintenance closets have locks.”

“I just rolled my eyes.”

“Heard a story today.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“My brother.”

“Mark.”

“Yeah. Seems like he was a hero, repelling invaders from Riversides.”

“That had to suck when whoever went to interview your parents.”

“You’re so smart. He’ll be enrolling in Riversides soon.”

“They suing for past tuition?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I think that’s a criminal offence. I could look it up.”

“Really not my concern.”

“Yet here we are talking about it.”

“Keith told Michelle. It’s not like I went looking.”

“Tex left a note at Harvest for you.”

“We had words, kind of, the other day.”

“About?”

“Oh, nothing. Shawn has a cousin. Not now. I don’t know how this story is going to shake out.”

“Anyway. I love you more than stars in the sky.”

“I love you more than dancing naked in the snow.”

 

Cars inched along the street like a funeral procession, stopping then inching again.

“Maybe an accident,” Ralph said.

I pulled up on the back of the front seat. “Sometimes I think the universe is just fucking with me.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Pull off at the next street, wait for me.”

“Aye, aye.”

I exited, walking quickly, consuming the three blocks, the parade of cars filthy with anxious, excited faces. The cars moved, then stopped again, people drinking in the tragedy.

Until the morning before, I was not aware a house could burn so completely. Unlike the house on the lot, the air was ripe with soot and the stink of smoke like when I first made a fire in Bill’s house, not knowing to open the vent.

The corpse of the house mocked me as I melted into a dozen people.

“What happened?” a new arrival asked.

“House burned down,” a voice answered. “Yesterday morning.”

“It was after noon, closer to one,” a voice retorted.

“I was here, where you?”

“I knew this would happen. I knew it,” another voice intruded. “I called the township. Kids, you know. Break in, do drugs, who knows what else.”

“Someone died,” another voice claimed, a face like that from the first house, gapping out the window.

“Oh, where’d you hear that?” Yesterday Morning challenged.

I wanted to grab the woman, demand a source, details.

“Are you alright, deary?” someone asked.

I returned the three blocks to the taxi.

 

Near panic, I exited the elevator on the second floor, taking the stairs the remaining eighteen floors. “I have a 1 o’clock.”

“Antoinette Blanc,” the woman said. She was tall, a full head over me, brown hair neat around her head, sharp sable eyes, maybe thirty, tan skirt to her knee, white shirt, tan jacket. She was what I’d expect for a librarian. “How was the trip over?”

“I didn’t much care for the highspeed train. I had always gone east, going west when the train went underground, I couldn’t breathe.” Her stare stopped me. “Oh, my trip was fine. How are you today?”

She bit her lip, watching me from behind her desk. “I’m good, thanks for asking.” She stood. “If you’d follow me, please.”

She led me across a large room crowded with two dozen partitioned cubicles, most occupied with young men in white shirts and thin black ties quietly busy, stopping, her hand on the gold knob of an oak door. “OK?”

I had no idea why she’d ask the question. “I’m great, thanks for asking. And, thank you for your time today.”

She smirked, obviously amused by my Sally, pushing the door in. “Mr. Goldman. Antoinette Blanc.”

I didn’t believe he designed two of the pyramids. He did have some years behind him. Sharp blue eyes pushed into his raw sugar cookie dough complexion captured me as he bolted from his chair behind the desk, coming around. “Miss Blanc,” he greeted in a voice I expected to crackle, coming at me smooth like a summer breeze, his gaunt hand offered.

I took the hand without hesitation instead of tossing my I’d rather not at him. “Mr. Goldman,” I returned, watching up him a full head over me, holding his eyes.

His other hand came over mine. “I’m terribly pleased to meet you! Jessica has told me so much about you!”

The door clicked shut behind me.

“I can’t imagine –”

“Oh, come in, come in. Coffee, tea? Maybe a soda?” He pulled, directing me toward a plush gray sofa to my left. “Let’s sit.” He released me.

“I’m good. I need a house designed.”

“Yes, yes, Jessica told me.”

I glanced to my right.

“Oh, the window. I forgot. Everyone likes to look out the window.”

“I did want to run over, maybe clap my hands, bounce on my toes, gleefully squeal.”

He laughed as we dropped on the sofa. “I still do that when no one’s looking. You can go look.”

“Maybe later.”

“Jessica warned me you were a serious young woman, not the kind of child who would run to a window, squeal with joy.”

“Did she now?”

“Oh, she said that’s one of the many things she loves about you. It’s not every day she meets someone more serious than her.” He must have read my face. “Relax. It’s not that she was gossiping about you. She seemed to feel the need to convince me you were a special friend to her when all she had to do was say that.”

“OK.”

“That, and of course, we like to talk to each other. Anyway. You want to build a house.”

“I do.”

“And what shall this house look like?”

I rolled my eyes. “Two floors, a full attic, basement.”

“That’s a good start.” He pulled on his chin, watching me intensely.

“Go on, mock me, everyone else does.”

He laughed. “OK. Serious like someone died.”

I sighed. “I think I take life too seriously because life has always taken me too seriously.”

“I follow that.”

“Where was I?”

“You want a house with walls.”

“A roof, too.”

“You made a joke.”

“I did. Huge eat-in kitchen.”

“Like to cook, huh?”

“I like to eat. Double sink, bay window with tin roof over the sink.”

“I’ve always liked the double sink, bay window. Stainless steel sink?”

“Like in a restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“I was not aware such a thing was available for a house.”

“You’d be surprised. What else?”

“Must have a large dining room, large living room with fireplace, a powder room downstairs, an entryway with closet, backdoor into the kitchen with stairs going to the basement, a bedroom downstairs –”

“Hold on.” He worked to his feet, leaving the room, returning with long rolls of paper. “Over here.”

I joined him at a large table.

“Blueprints,” he said, unrolling the sheets.

“I’ve seen blueprints.”

“Front and side elevation.”

“Obviously.”

“Here it is. First floor layout.”

I leaned on the table, my palms on the blueprint, taking it in. “This is exactly what I just described, but for the bay window.”

“With a tin roof. We’ll do cooper.”

“Is that as noisy when it rains.”

“I see. No. Bay window with noisy roof.”

“Rain talks to me.”

“Have you ever been in love? I don’t mean how you’re in love with Jessica, a deep friendship that’s unique and likely once in a lifetime. I mean that all-consuming romantic love, where he seems to be the extension of your own flesh.”

I didn’t know where to start. “Jessica said that?”

“No, no, not outright. I heard what she was saying, though. I bet if not over the phone, I’d have seen her eyes sparkle when she speaks of you.”

I blushed. “Yes, Mr. Goldman. I have known such a love.”

“Now?”

“Yes. That’s why I want to build a house. A house for us to live in.”

“Mary Langgarten. That was my one true love. I was going to build a house for us to live in.” He nodded to the table. “This house.”

The was caught in my ear, the question stuck in my throat.

“A lifetime ago. I was due to break ground. She took sick. Never got better.”

“Oh, Mr. Goldman. That’s terrible.”

“Ah, it is said, it’s better to have loved and lost, you know.”

“Somedays I don’t know about that.”

“She loved the rain, Mary did.”

“A favorite of mine, too.”

“When the rain comes, I’ll walk for hours. With Mary by my side. You see, Miss Blanc, I couldn’t –”

“Let her go.”

His sharp blue eyes dug deep into me. “Would you like to know what she looked like?”

I shrugged with as much melancholy as I could squeeze into my small shoulders. “I’ve met Jessica.”

“Once in a forever while, when the rain calls me, Jessica will meet up with me in our special place. She’ll dress like Mary always did. There in that place out of place, in a time out of time, we’ll dance. We’ll laugh. Don’t get any crazy ideas. I know it’s make believe.”

“It is and it isn’t, Mr. Goldman. When you walk in the rain Mary is there with you. In that moment, in that time, as the rain washes the world, Mary is there.”

“I do not wish to know how you know that. Knowing that you do is good enough.”

“I understand. You carry enough wraiths already.”

Again, the stare.

“Oh, Mr. Goldman. I am very much of this reality. I am not a wraith.”

“Sometimes it’s so real.”

“I know.”

“What’s his name?”

“The person I wish to build the house for?”

Again, the stare.

“Yes.”

“Oh, so not a wraith. Pamala. Her name is Pamala.”

He sobbed a little. “You like this house?”

“I do. I love this house. Can we add a widow’s walk?”

“Absolutely.”

“Carriage house?”

He spread his tears with a palm. “Yes. To match the house. I love that idea.”

I plopped Pamala’s bag on the blueprints, fishing out a stack of money. “Tell me when to stop.”

“Oh my God. You’re Jessica’s benefactor!”

“I should deny it. I’m her secret benefactor with as much emphasis you can pack on the secret.”

“She was talking of taking her own life.”

“I did not know that.”

“She does not like to burden the few people in her life she cares about.”

“Boy, do I know that feeling.”

“I thought of killing him, rather hiring someone.”

“Jake?”

“Well, for starters, just for daring to strike one such as Jessica, but that’s the problem.”

“Can’t scatter a bunch of corpses across the landscape. Her problem is well beyond Jake smacking her around occasionally.”

He nodded. “She was resolved to her position, dutifully saluting sharply.”

“With only one other option she could see.”

“Put your money away. You may have these blueprints with one stipulation.”

“Stipulate away, Mr. Goldman.”

“I build the house.”

“You should have. A monument to Mary Langgarten. With a widow’s walk where you could sit in the rain atop the world with her.”

“I should have. Now I will. Though I’ll bang some nails, I was a builder before I was an architect. Paid for college.  I’ll engage people to do the actual work.”

“The regular people you engage are going to be busy.”

“Jessica is demanding unreasonable goals, which will be met. Do you have the property?”

“I will, soon.” From Pamala’s bag, I unfolded the plot sketch Mr. Thomas gave me.

“Nice. On the river.”

“I want to keep every tree we can.”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Huh, oh. Making an offer. They’re asking 12, coming back with 8.”

“Jessica’s your strawman?”

“I’d say straw-woman.”

“Let me take over the transaction. Get Jessica out of the middle. She has enough going on.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ll get right on a title search, get a survey done.”

“Mr. Thomas never said –”

“And Jessica has other things on her mind.”

“Deal. Here’s my contract.” I offered my hand.

He took my hand. “Deal. I’ll get Thomas on the phone before you cross the lobby.”

“Throw a couple of points at him. I can’t stomach a grown man whining.”

“You’re in good hands.”

 

Armed with a roll of clear tape I bought at Woolworth, I papered the living room wall with my copies of the blueprints. The eight people who died in the fire invading my mindscape didn’t worry me. I stood on the rumble, inviting them. They didn’t come.

I considered engaging Mary Langgarten there in Mr. Goldman’s office, his connection to her so strong. There was something in his eyes, something in what he said. He was obsessed and possessed. Mary was the one true love.

Antoinette, the person and my wraith, my Antoinette was a true love, certainly not my only true love. I felt sad Mary stole that from Mr. Goldman.

I gave a chin bob to the blueprints on the wall. “My house, our house, where Pam and I shall live together for ever because sometimes that’s the way the universe works.”

 

A quick rifling through the afternoon paper produced a no story piece about the fire saying a house burned, cause under investigation. I decided to believe Jennifer Longe left on her own, back with her family.

Somehow Shawn had become a friend, real and true. I did not know how or when that happened. Disappointment in her eyes hurt me. “I’m not ready to dance with the group!” I proclaimed.

“You’re doing alright,” Shawn insisted.

I wasn’t, throwing everyone off, stepping away. “I’ll follow from over here.”

Shawn dogged. “We’ll practice, slow things down. You’re doing great.”

“I am not doing great. I’m so used to being good at everything I do. I love you in deep blue sequin. Maybe my problem is you’re distracting.”

“Charlette makes the dresses. Thanks. Flirting won’t distract me.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“You need to smile more. That’s part of the show.”

“When I get comfortable doing this,” I put my fists on my hips, gyrating a full circle, “I’ll smile big for you.”

“Break your knees, loosen up.”

“I think I like ballet better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, alone in the woods, around a fire, when the snow is falling.”

“Naked. OK. Take a break. Watch us.”

Shawn rejoined the group at the top of the routine.

“I could watch you all night.” I wanted to be as good as Shawn without putting the time and effort in. I watched, turned to face the mirror, jumped into step with all my force of will. I’d stood at a blacken hole seared into the landscape and could see my house reaching for the sky, yet I couldn’t see me dancing any better.

On that first day, I saw Bill’s house for what I could make of it.

Shawn winked at me in the mirror, smiling big as the show demanded. I wasn’t doing great. I was doing OK.

 

We lingered, Shawn and I, my back against the exterior brick of the dance studio, Shawn’s right hand flat high on the wall, her nature musk filling my head when the wind caught her bountiful hair just right, her cobalt eyes lost in shadow. I counted the freckles across the bridge of her nose as sometimes I’d count the stars in the sky.

Her breath was sweet. I wondered about mine as we spoke of ducks on the river – we meant the Canada geese, neither of us minding the error – the spring equinox the day before the party, Charlette’s talent and generosity of spirit. Shawn rolled her eyes, stamping a foot – it was a token stamp, more like a tap – at the mention of Pamala.

“Oh, that girl,” Shawn sighed.

“Yeah, huh.”

“You are the luckiest person on the planet.”

“I know, every day. I know.”

“Want to come over my house? Not far, four blocks that way. Everybody will be asleep.”

“I have to get home. Pamala’s going to call when she gets done work.”

She took half a step back. The streetlight brought her cobalt eyes to life. “Well, I’m that way.”

I motioned with a nod. “I’m that way. Are we going to hug or what?”

“Pamala told me you ration out hugs with an eyedropper. You surprised me.”

“Pamala is not wrong. Someday I may even tell you why.”

Her arms came under mine, her palms flat on my back, her head on my shoulder, her mouth open on my neck. I shivered. “Sorry. Instinct.”

I tightened my hold, eyes closed. The natural musk. Her tongue circled my ear. I shivered again, sighing.

The cold night air was split by the screech of rubber on asphalt as Pamala’s red Chevy II jolted to a stop at the curb, Pamala, in her work uniform of black pants and white shirt stumbled from the car, face red wet, stood staring as if watching a house burn to the ground with eight people in it.

Shawn broke. “Oops, sorry.”

I blocked Shawn away with an arm. “It’s not that.” Keeping Pamala’s eyes, I stepped forward. “What? What is it?”

Pamala choked, swallowed hard, tears poured down her face, a hand to the roof of the car, she bellowed, “You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!” Her hand went flat to her chest, her eyes bulged.

Hurrying around, I took Pamala hand, my other hand flat on her back as she struggled to stay on her feet. “Pamala. You’re having a panic attack. Listen to my voice. Deep breath. Take a deep breath for me. Now, let it out slowly.”

She obeyed, wrapping me up. I nodded on her shoulder, shooing Shawn away.

Shawn mouthed, “I can hang.”

I nodded her off.

Ten deep breaths, letting them out slowly later, Pamala pawed at my face, pulled at my hair, tore at my clothes. “How the fuck do I know I’ve not made you a wraith?”

“I think more deep breaths are needed.”

The uncontrollable tears came again in an ugly crying fit as she hung on me like a curtain, a distant star was born, cycled, then passed from existence when Pamala finally said. “Tell me you’re not dead.”

“I am not dead.”

“Again.”

“I’m not dead.”

“One more time.”

“I’m not dead.”

She took my cheeks in her palms, planting her lips on mine, her tongue plunging down to my stomach. “I love you so fucking much my heart is going to swell up and burst out my chest.”

“You better now?”

“Better than the last fucking hour.”

I opened the car door. “Get in, scoot over, I’ll drive.”

 

Pamala wouldn’t let go of my hand. When she tried to talk, she cried instead. “Call Dad.”

One handed dialing, I did.

“Dad.”

“Toby?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. Fucking assholes. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“I don’t know the story yet. Pam can’t talk without crying.”

“Understandable. She’ll tell you when she can. Assholes. Fucking assholes. I’m going to buy a fucking gun.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, Toby?”

“Take a breath.”

“Good advice. Tell Pam I called her out from school. I’ll open if I have to.”

“You OK?” I asked Pam.

Clutching onto me, she nodded.

“Ice your back or whatever you do. Pamala should be OK to work, seeing as how I’m not dead.”

“Fucking assholes. Thanks for not being dead.”

“Pleasure to serve.”

“One other thing.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve waited a long time to hear your voice. When I see you, you’re going to break that ban on hugging.”

“I’ll allow it.”

 

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s going to be a while before I can have you out of my sight.”

“I’m just glad you could complete a whole sentence without crying.”

 

My hand ached as I delivered hot chocolate to our recliner. “Dad said I can keep you for the night.”

“Like he has a choice.”

“Yeah, huh?”

“I need your promise. I need to hear it out loud.”

“That I’m not dead?”

“That you’ll never leave me, that you’ll love me forever and a day. That we are two people one flesh. I need that promise, Toby.”

 “Pamala. Nobody touches my soul like you do.”

“You don’t believe in souls.”

“So not the point. If there is such a thing as soulmates, we’re it. I cannot imagine my life, my world, my universe, without you. If you feel the same, we can put it all in writing. We can sign it in blood.

“Pamala. Would you be my wife?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“If possible, yes, Toby, and you can be my wife.”

“I really hope you mean that. I’ve been doing a lot of reading up on witches and traditions and such. They have this thing called handfasting.”

“I’ve heard of it. It’s actually –”

“I know a witch.”

“You had me at marry me.”

I put my lips on her forehead.

“The wallpaper? Is that the house you’re going to build for us?”

“It’s going to be on the river, like you wanted.”

 

“Here I am, happy as a butterfly flitting from one flower to the other. Couple customer problems, not worth telling, resolved masterfully by me. That’s the one thing I’m worried about being in charge. It’s a big chair. My employees worked like a well-oiled machine, even Diane taking my direction.

“It was a great day, Toby. It really was. I’m smiling watching Diane walk away. We even hugged. She’s been mad at herself, taking it out on everyone, me being a good friend makes for an easy whipping post. I whispered sweet, sweet affirmations in her ear. I think she’s turned the corner.

“Her walking away, the click of her shoes a perfect song, the rock of her ponytail marking perfect time with the universe. Soon, you on the phone talking of nothing, maybe my hand in my underwear. In that moment, Toby, I knew pure joy. Bliss.

“I get slammed in the back of the head with that ever-too-joyful whine of Tammy. We need to talk to you. The we is Tammy and that loser sperm donor you call a father. Turning as graceful as you dancing in the snow, here’s blurry eyed Dad and gleeful Tammy.

“I will not cry again. I will not cry again.”

“It’s OK if you do.”

“I know. Loser Dad says he has terrible news. I should brace myself. Tammy’s practically coming out of her skin. I thought she’d cram her hand down her pants and finish the job. Fuckface Dad says, She’s dead. He goes onto babble nonsense about he knows we had some kind of relationship and that ended when you ran off.

“I calmly asked what the fuck he was talking about, which set Tammy off on a religious tirade, mostly ignored by me. Asshole manages to squeeze in-between Tammy’s personal disgust and a Bible quote. The FBI picked up her mother and me. He said they identified her remains.

“I’d been watching Tammy’s mouth, thinking about how those lips were flapping and the tongue waggling, I’d love to put my hands firmly behind her head and force her face into my Wooly Mammoth.”

I giggled. “I’ve thought the same thing.”

“Then, it was remains. They, Asshole One and Asshole Two, identified your body. A spear sunk deep in my heart. You were actually dead. The FBI. They don’t make mistakes like that. Tammy’s face ballooned three times its size, which may have been my imagination, I don’t know, her yelling something about abomination and that you deserve to be dead.”

“Uh oh.”

“I hit her pretty hard. My feet left the floor. I blacked out. I remember being in the car. Then, I remember seeing you on the street. The whole of the fucking universe fell back into place. It’s like you lassoed me and pulled back to the ground.

“Were you making out with Shawn?”

“Almost. Maybe another three minutes, maybe. I think her natural musk is like a magic spell.”

“You, too, huh?”

“Anyway. So, I’m dead, the FBI signed off?”

“I wish I’d kept my head. I wished I stayed calm, gotten details. How could they identify your remains when you’re here with me?”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“You said Paul left a note for me?”

“More like a letter. It’s in my bag.”

“If I had a fireplace, I’d burn it without reading it.”

 

Michelle had done a great job cleaning the kitchen. That didn’t stop Pamala from scrubbing every surface again while I read the letter.

“My family are assholes, sorry.”

“Oh, what happened is so not your fault.”

I leaned on the door jam, papers crumbled in my fist. “Oh, but it is.”

Pamala butt against the counter, drying her hands, watched me.

“Paul lied to me. About everything. He said he was raped in jail as a kid. He wanted to kin-up to me. He wasn’t. His best friend was because Paul left him hanging over throwing rocks at cows. Because of that, he says, his best friend killed himself two years later. Paul writes he can never go to jail.

“Paul told me he has to live under the radar because he’s behind in child support. I’d offered to make that right.” I held the crumbled papers forward. “He put his girlfriend in the hospital twice. He writes that I am the most just person he’s ever met, the most beautiful soul. He writes that he could not stand to see disappointment on my face.

“Too many lies, he said. He no longer wanted to live like he did. He couldn’t go to jail. He couldn’t disappoint me.” I displayed my fist again. “He could, he says, make me dead.”

“Oh my God.”

“He killed her and himself for me.”

“Do you know who she was?”

I closed my eyes, tempted to lie. “Yes. I was going to take her back home today. The only reason I even got involved was because I thought she was Shawn’s niece. Turns out she wasn’t. I saw identification. Just a girl scared to go home because she’s bad at math.”

“Why oh why would they think her you?”

“Paul’s a crafty asshole. As you recall, when I ran screaming from Bill’s house, I left everything behind. I saw my old bike, for example, at the other house, not thinking anything of it. My mother and brother could identify the bike. I’m sure Paul planted other things.”

“Maybe the underwear from your window soaked in your blood.”

“The underwear was not soaked in my blood.”

“Still creepy.”

“I’ll give you that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I know what the right thing to do is.” I produced a Zippo lighter, flicking it twice, putting the flame to the papers, tossing the papers in the sink. “I was right. I should have never read the letter. Shower?”

“Long, hot shower. I may be up for some hair washing. Hair washing is very life affirming.”

“If I may, I’d like to go to work with you in the morning.”

“What about –”

“Haven’t you heard? October is dead.”

 

I hung my blue pea coat in the Harvest closet, turning on Pamala. “I look alright?”

“White shirt suits you. You didn’t have to wear a tie.”

“I like the look. Bright pink. Actual silk. I may get a top hat for when I take you out dancing.”

“You’ll have to tuck the tie in your shirt. Keep it out of the food. I didn’t think you over the trauma of me dragging you out of the dance floor New Year’s Eve. White Pandora with pink hatband to match the tie.”

I wanted to wear my tuxedo skirt, the boss insisting on black pants. Charlotte’s fitting made a world of difference. “I’m going to get a paper. I don’t want to miss my obit.”

Pamala hit me with a stern look. “Please stop that.”

“Your wish, something, something. You going to be OK?”

“If you’re gone more than twenty minutes, I might have another panic attack. Don’t mess up my lipstick.”

I carefully kissed her. “Wouldn’t think of it.

 

“If I knew it’d be on the front page so often, I’d have spent more time on my makeup, maybe brushed my hair better,” I muttered, dropping to the first stool at the lunch counter.

“Good morning. Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Carol greeted. “What a wonderful tie!”

“I was just saying, people should take care with their school photos. Never know when they’ll appear on the front page of the newspaper.” I presented the paper.

“Oh! That story!”

“Coffee, please.”

She quickly returned with my coffee. “I knew her.”

“Who?”

“That girl.”

I held the paper up, narrowing my eyes. “Puts an end to the nationwide manhunt,” I quoted. “Wouldn’t that be womanhunt, maybe even girlhunt, eh since she was fifteen years old.”

“If you’d met her, you’d never guess she was that young.”

“Racketeering. Money laundering. Disappearance of at least one minor person.” I glanced Carol. “Seeing as how you were friends, were you involved in any of these shenanigans?”

“Gosh, no! I’m a good Christian girl!”

I wrestled the paper open, flipping pages, refolding. “Hmm. Says she died in a fire, cause under investigation.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“I do.”

“Word is they operated out of –” She nodded across the mall.

“Playland?”

“Shh. Not so loud. The cops raided there the day she went missing, been closed and roped off ever since.

“OK.”

“I’m thinking she ran off with their money. Criminal on criminal crime. They’ve been looking for her, found her and did away with her.”

“Could be. Could very well be.”

“More coffee?”

“No thank you. I have to get to work.” I counted change on the counter, adding a quarter. “Have a nice day.”

 

“Made the front page again. That’ll annoy Shawn.”

Pamala narrowed her eyes.

I held the newspaper up next to my face. “I did this to Carol. She still didn’t recognize me.”

“Well, that’s because you’re dead.”

“And you told me to stop. What can I do?”

“Find an apron, carve the two turkeys. Slices in a pan, bones and the rest in a big pot to boil down for soup.”

I stared only for a moment, snapped a salute, hurried off to find an apron.

My turkey soup was on the floor when we opened at noon.

 

“Don’t be over generous,” Peter told me as we worked the line. “People can come back for more if they like.”

“I did notice a lot of food left on the plates.”

“Watch people. They’re signal if they want more.”

“I noticed that, too.”

Pamala came to Pete’s far shoulder. “How’s she doing?”

“I like this one much better than your last.”

“Peter!”

“Oh, I knew she was trouble, that one. Then she runs off breaking your heart, now this, we find out she’s a criminal.”

Pamala winked at me.

“This one, Pamala, is funny, good with people. Asks if she doesn’t know something. Does what she’s told. We should keep this one.”

“I agree, Peter.”

Distracted, Pamala hurried onto the floor, Mr. Bailey taking her up in a long, lingering hug sharing a conversation.

Excusing myself from the line, I met Pamala in the office. “You OK?”

Sobbing, she indicated an 8 x 10 black & white still photo from the surveillance film, me on my knee to Pamala in the jewelry store. “He wanted to tell me how sorry he was. Thought I’d want this.”

I held her, she cried again.

“Innocent times.”

She sighed into my shoulder. “Like in another universe. He’d heard what happened – with Tammy. Mall security was talking about having me arrested. Mr. Bailey suggested they ban Tammy from the mall.”

“Really?”

“He’s going to fire her. He was considering it. I just now told him what she said. He told security bad things seem to follow her around.”

“Paul wanted to make her disappear.”

“Really?”

“For coming at me so hard. She comes at you again, well, they won’t find the body.”

“She deserved that much just for that annoying perma-smile.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have to get back on the floor.”

 

“That was a good day,” Pamala announced, sipping coffee on the Harvest patio.

“I thought so,” Diane agreed across the table. “Ol’ Joe gave me a five-buck tip, just for being cute, he said.”

I snickered, leaning against the wall, cup to my lips. “Well, you are that. Maybe not five-buck cute, but still, I’d go two.”

Diane blushed.

“Cute, and that you bring him coffee,” Pamala added.

“It’s all part of good customer service.”

“Can I talk to you?” my father asked Pamala from the mall. “Privately.”

I’d seen him coming, thought to ignore the approach.

“Where’s your sidekick?”

“Icing her face.”

Pamala resisted a smirk of satisfaction. “Climb on over, take a load off. You will not be getting me alone.”

“Smart girl.”

As much as I wanted to watch him struggle over the railing, I left for the interior, returning with coffee, too much milk, too much sugar, placing the mug in front of him, returning to my perch.

He took a moment to example the three faces, tasting the coffee. “My God, this is just how I take it.”

“Lucky guess,” I retorted.

He let out a long sigh, reaching for Pamala’s hand, which she pulled away, him offering close to a Well I Never face.

I wanted to tell him he was well out of his depth, choosing to let him find out on his own.

“I know you and Toby had a relationship.”

Pamala shrugged, keeping his eyes. “We were in love. Not just love, but to die for each other love.” She shrugged again. “Do go on.”

“I don’t want to debate –”

“Good choice.”

“I wanted to say, I lost a daughter. I loved Toby as only a father can love a daughter –”

“I’m sure you mean well,” Pamala said calmly. “I was Toby’s confessor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you crushed her spirit and murdered her soul. I know you hit her in the face with a hammer when she was ten for her trying to help you hang a photo. I know you hit her on six other occasions. I know you ignored when her brother beat her up. I know you left her to eat a piece of white bread for Thanksgiving dinner, later to fish food out of the trashcan.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Diane said, pushing back from the table.

He tried to object, getting Pamala’s palm in front of his face.

“You employed gross willful ignorance when good ol’ Uncle Percy molested Toby at family gathering, when brother Mark jerked off on her face. The Christmas Tree. Tossed on the lawn half decorated over a disagreement about beer.”

Diane sobbed into her hands.

“It was –”

“You were living on the cusp of poverty mostly because of your lack of motivation to do anything but drink beer and watch television.” Her fist came solid to the table, cups jumping. “Then, oh fucking boy, you get a whiff of Tammy’s panties, your dick gets harder than Chinese algebra, you throw your wife and two children in abject poverty because you found your soulmate. Toby no longer has the protection of a locked bedroom. Brother Mark and three of his friends gang rape her.

 “So, now, Father of the Fucking Year, do go on how you loved Toby as only a father can love a daughter.”

“You can’t prove any of that.”

“Can’t prove isn’t a denial,” I said with a chuckle. “Father of the Fucking Year. Love it, Pam.” I caught and kept his eyes. “If I have a Father of the Year trophy, I’d bludgeon you to death with it.”

“Toni!” Diane challenged through her sobs.

He gave me the Well I Never face I love as he stood, struggling over the fence, turning. “There’s a service Wednesday. We don’t have a lot of money –”

Pam looked at me, I nodded.

“Give me the information. I’ll take care of it. You were never there for her in life, no sense you being there for her in death.”

In a moment that passed too quickly, I saw a glimmer of the human being occupying the deep shadows.

“People can change. I can change. This could change me.”

Just as quickly, Pamala crushed that tiny flame. “If you didn’t stink of beer, I might even believe you.”

He presented a business card to Pamala. “They’ll be releasing her, eh, her to these people.”

 

“The only difference between him and a wraith is he has a heartbeat,” I said to Pamala.

Pamala nodded, a tear navigating down her right cheek.

“Fuck, Pam. I’m sorry for every negative thing I ever said about Toby. I had no idea.”

“We never do,” I said, watching the figure fade in the distance, his soft shoes silent on the floor. “I cannot regret a single moment. Everything has made me, built me, brick by brick, bringing me to where I am today. I happen to like the company I keep.”

I reached out, Pamala took my hand. “Yeah, that, huh?”

“Toby?” Diane asked, squinting.

“Toni,” Pamala and I said in unison.

 

Bob and Taylor Edwards took a turn in the foyer, my no-hug ban lifted.

“Sorry to demand your appearance,” Pam’s father said in my ear.

“Sorry to have to put you guys through it.”

“You do owe us an explanation,” Taylor said, not quite a scold.

“But first,” Pamala said, “hold me like the world in ending.” She wrapped me up. “I love you more than fluffy white kittens.”

I drank her in, my face buried in her hair. “I love you more than rain on my face.”

“I need a long, hot shower, then bed. I have school in the morning.”

“Work in the afternoon. I’ll come help.”

“Take a day. Do your stuff. I’ll be OK.”

“Mom, if you clear your throat, I’ll smack you so hard, your grandkids will feel it.”

We broke, keeping hands, Pamala moving toward the stairs, our fingers finally letting go. I watched until she was out of sight and then a little more.

I sighed. “So, I’m back.”

“Looking so different, too. I really have to get off my feet. I’ll be in my recliner.”

I nodded. “I’ll be in shortly to regale you or something. “Taylor?”

Taylor returned my sigh. “I’ve waited up to see you. I have work in the morning. I’d call out if I could. Last I saw you, I had no problem seeing that child of fifteen. A serious child of fifteen, but still. You come back an adult.”

“I don’t believe I was ever a child. Let’s do that hug thing again.”

She accepted me into her arms.

“I think if not for you, Bob, Maria, and mostly Pamala, I’d never have found my humanity. God knows I’ve not had many role models.”

“I actually understand that.”

 

With the few dishes from their dinner washed, just as the percolator began to sing, the telephone receiver on my shoulder as I dried my hands, I said, “Hey, Michelle.”

“Toby! Thank God!”

“God had nothing to do with it. I didn’t think you read the newspaper.”

“I don’t. Jessica does.”

“She called?”

“Yes. Looking for you. Or rather, looking to see if you were really dead.”

“It’s going to take more than fire to kill me.”

“I hear that. Jessica said it had to be a mistake. She said she wouldn’t believe you dead unless she sees the body.”

“You can call her back for me. Let her know. Tell her nothing in the newspaper about me is true.”

“Great. That’s a relief. I’ll do that as soon as we hang up. We had a long talk. She’s so smoking hot and more than a little scary.”

“She’s your boss on the 21^st.”

“She said. We talked about what I’ll be doing. Don’t tell Keith I said this. It sounds a lot better than what I’m doing now.”

“I don’t care for the environment you’re in. Call Jessica.”

“I will and thanks!”

 

Pamala was sleeping like the dead. I pulled the blanket up, kissing her forehead.

 

“Touch of cream, half spoon of sugar.” I set the coffee mug on the table next to the recliner.

“How’d you know that?”

I shrugged, dropping to my knees, placing a log into the fire. “I decided you not know anything.”

“I figured. Pamala keeps nothing from us.”

“She got reprimanded in school for us kissing in the parking lot.”

“Well, almost nothing.”

“Firstly, all those things they say I did, that shit in the newspaper. None of it’s true. I was not a linchpin in a criminal enterprise. Bill Locke set me up to take the fall for him and his band of criminals. I do not know any details. He kept me in the dark while putting my name on everything.”

“OK. That puts me at ease. I thought you were capable of all that. I didn’t think you did any of it.”

“As the walls came down around me, I decided to go to ground. I knew the federales were coming for me hard. I knew if they put you in the box, you’d tell the truth. So, I decided you should have nothing true to tell them.”

“In the box?”

“Like in the old movies. Dark room, bright light in your face, two guys yelling at you to give me up.”

“Great coffee. If we needed domestic help, I’d offer you a job. You’re right. I would have cracked like an egg dropped on the floor.”

“Taylor would have stood tall in the shitstorm.”

“Yes, she would have.”

“It’s ironic that you invited me in on Bill’s say so.”

“Huh?”

“I mean the party. New Year’s Eve. You told Pam no until you found out it was Bill’s party.”

“Bill Locke. I still can’t believe he did all this. Very liked by everyone. Charismatic, they call it.”

“I call it Sally.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Long time ago, I cheeseburgered in the middle of the night at The Tower. The waitress, Sally, poured friendship on me like it’s in endless supply. I thought us friends, real and true. My only real and true friend at the time.

“When my brother and his friends gang raped me, I thought taking about may help. Sally said we weren’t friends. I was just her customer. She Sallyed me for tips.”

“Toby, I –”

Waving him off, I closed my eyes, letting out a deep sigh. “That’s about the story of my gangster career.”

“You know you can talk to us at –”

Again, I waved him off.

“We may seem odd to you.”

I chuckled. “Oh, Bob, trust me. I’ve seen odd up close and personal. You guys are far from it.”

“You sweep in like an ill wind, possessing our daughter, Taylor and I are here, take her, no questions asked.”

“I kind of thought you were seeing it as getting another daughter, not me stealing Pam.”

“We lost Marie.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You didn’t know her before, eh.”

“The assault. I did not.”

“The assault killed her, or I should say the assault burned off a good hunk of her soul. I see it. I love her wholly and completely. I can see it in her eyes. She didn’t come back completely. I would do anything to fix her. Anything.”

“I understand more than you could know.”

“I see that in your eyes, too, and I think I may understand things now more than I did.”

“I know how damaged I am, Bob.”

“That is a strength.” He pursed his lips. “If you’ve not noticed, you make Pamala very happy.”

“I picked up on that.”

“That is why Taylor and I are here, take her. Because we can’t fix Marie. I fell in love with you before Pamala did, and it had nothing to do with Bill’s recommendation. Did you know that?”

“I did not know you were in love with me.”

“Well, I am. It was at Bill’s party. Watching you and Jessica all night. The way you applied yourself, bussing tables like it was the most important job in the world. God, the way you two looked at each. If anyone walk in-between, they’d have burst into flames.”

I blushed. “Jess and I are once-in-a-lifetime friends, or so I’m learning. I’m new at this people stuff.”

“I asked Bill to introduce us, offer you that one day job.”

“I’d heard putting Pamala and I in the same room wasn’t an accident. I’d offer you a curtsy, but I don’t feel like getting up. I’ll just say thank you.”

“Pam was careful to skirt around your involvement in Jessica’s project.”

I kept his eyes.

“My God, I am never playing poker with you.”

I offered a subtle nod.

“I’d like your opinion. Should Pamala take the job?”

“She should. She’ll be throwing in with a group of people who are really great at what they do.”

“Understood.” He closed his eyes. “So, you’re not a gangster?”

“Being a gangster would require having a gang or at least being a member of a gang, so no. I am not a gangster.”

He nodded. “How is it you’re dead?”

“There was a fire –”

“I read the story.”

I rolled my eyes. “I heard the FBI picked up my mother and father, grilled them good, had them identify my remains. How they got a positive I.D. when it’s obviously not me is anyone’s guess.” I shrugged. “I’ll take it, though, since being dead works in my favor.”

“Because the FBI and the gangsters are in a race to find the missing money?”

“I can’t offer a guess to what the FBI and the gangsters are up to or thinking.”

“No poker. Who are you? I mean, now.”

“Antoinette Blanc. Toni. However, I was born in October. They called me October Baby, shortened to October, and then finally Toby.”

“Slick. Who’s Antoinette Blanc.”

I held his eyes. “I fell in love with her, real and true, the day I saw her. She looked a lot like me. I was scared to talk to her. She died. I looked so much like her, her father thought I could come live with them, replacing her.”

“The guy hanging around Harvest for a while.”

“Yes.” I dragged my bag to me, fishing out my solicitor’s permit, holding it up. “I stole her identity. I figured she wasn’t using it. Besides that, her father had offered it to me. We’re born around the same time. I have her birth certificate and social security card.”

He nodded. “All illegal –”

“Bill Locke robbed the gangsters, laying it on me. My guess is the gangsters want two things. They want their money back, and they want to kill me. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m happy to live the rest of my life like this.”

“I think you need talk to a lawyer.”

“I have a lawyer on retainer.”

“I should have known.” He pursed his lips again. “The mall called. Is Pam going to need a lawyer?”

“I don’t think so. My father is going to put a leash on Tammy. The reason she got hit was she told Pamala it was good me being dead, being an abomination and all.”

“I might have hit her, too.”

 

I watched the fire, quietly telling the tale of Pam flaming my father. I tried to find empathy. I searched for any feeling sorry for him. He claimed he lost his daughter. I didn’t lose my father when his shiny fake patent leather shoes hit the blacktop. He was never a father, just a farmer who planted the seed, never to tend to his crops.

In that moment, illuminated by the fire’s dancing fingers, I knew Bob Edwards would be that father, a man who’d love me wholly, completely, unconditionally. I felt I could drown in the responsibility. I understood Pam’s need to hear the words.

“Tell me, Bob, how I’m your extra daughter, real and true, and tell me that you and Taylor love me like a parent should love a child.”

Bob was asleep on the recliner.

I called a cab, washed out our cups and the percolator, prepared the percolator for the morning, jotting a note for Pam magnetted to the refrigerator, a note so corny, it’d have Pam blushing all day, Bob and Taylor snickering.

After kissing Pam’s forehead again, I waited on the curb, the stars hidden away by an unseen blanket of clouds, a soft wind whispering winter is not done with you. The Newspaper had threatened dropping temperatures, possible snow showers.

“I cannot go to prison,” I said aloud, quoting Paul’s letter. He was driven by his love of freedom. He didn’t murder Jennifer Longe to protect me or in my service. He was eliminating a witness, acting in his own service. I had no doubt the authorities would identify the male remains from the fire as Paul.

I also knew the body was not his.

 

“We need to talk,” Shawn threatened, placing a cup with coffee on the table.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

She rolled her eyes impatiently.

“You’re really cute when you do that. I should say, more cute than usual.”

“Toby.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll have my usual. When do you get a break? When you hit me with We need to talk, there’s no way that’s going to happen when you’re running back and forth taking care of customers. Break. I’m all yours.”

“I’m off at eleven. My afternoon classes were cancelled. How about we continue where we left off?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re really cute when you do that, blah blah, but I don’t mean that. I mean with the dance routine.”

 

I lingered just off Collings Nook, always a little early, watching the seamless clouds above the buildings, the cars moving by in both directions, people turtled in their collars against the wind. Mostly, I watched the clouds.

“Toby.”

I’d not noticed the car pull to the curb. “Officer Martin.” I learned on the passenger side door. “Good morning.”

“Back at you. Nice day.” His sarcasm was not lost.

“I love this weather, the darker the better. I saw they found that girl you were looking for.”

“Yeah. Seems the newspaper had more information than we did. I’d bet she fled the country.”

“There she was, right under your nose.”

“Yeah, huh? I know you being young and beautiful, your calendar must be packed full.”

I offered a playful eye roll. “Office Martin! I do not date men.”

“There goes that dream. Did you get by my house yet?”

“I have not.”

“We’re having a big family thing Easter, and –”

“You told me, and I quote, No hurry.”

“Things change or rather the wife changes things.”

“I’ll get on it bright and early tomorrow. I have one stop first thing, then thy will be something or other.”

He tipped his finger off his forehead. “Great. I hate yardwork.”

I curtsied. “That’s what keeps me new shoes.”

“Officer Martin,” Shawn said from behind me.

“Hi, Shawn. I’m off, serving and protecting.”

As he drove off, I turned on Shawn. Her palm between us stopped me.

“What happens next depends on your answer.” She displayed a folded newspaper. “Is this you? Don’t you dare give me an obviously not answer.”

I wanted to lean against a wall, caught in her cobalt eyes, drowning in her musk. “Yes. That girl they’re looking for is me.”

The cobalt eyes did catch me, long moments stretching out like a rubber band.

She released a long sigh into the universe. “Can we hug now?”

As we did, she said, “Thanks for not lying to me. After Pam thinking you dead, I went back over all the news stories. The stories are spinning it as if you’re some evil master criminal. I conjecture you’re the victim, the lamb to the slaughter so the real criminals can surrey under the cabinets like so many cock roaches.”

“That’s some pretty good conjecturing.”

“When men and women are involved in something, you can count on the women being victimized. Is Pam OK?”

“Yeah. I kept her for the night.”

“I envy you. And her. So, you’re in hiding.”

“Well, yes.”

A passerby cleared his throat, we broke, my right hand to her left.

“I will not betray you. Do I need to drop to a knee and repeat that.”

“You do not.”

A snowflake landed on her nose.

“Let’s skip the Charleston. I’ll take you to my sanctuary.”

“Oh, twist my arm.”

 

Wind raced around me, snow squalls rose and fell in perfect choreography as I melded with the environment, comfortable in my flesh. I expected Antoinette. What I got was Shawn, naked, mimicking my routine around the fire.

“Fuck it’s cold, Toby.”

“Yes, it is.”

She stepped out of the dance, huddling near the fire, working into her clothes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You cannot intrude where you have been invited.”

“I mean, breaking your concertation.”

“You did not.” I bowed to the crumbled leaves in a perfect full curtsy, rising, casually dressing. “Thanks for joining me, such a special gift.”

“How can you take the cold?”

“I feel it, same as you. I just don’t mind the discomfort. Sometimes, maybe too often, I think I’m dead. The pain reminds me I’m not.”

Shawn watched me for an elongated moment. “You were abused long before you fell in with the criminals.”

“I was, only recently realizing the extent of that abuse and how it’s damaged me.”

“If you ever need to talk –”

“Pamala is my confessor.”

“Wow. What a gift that is.”

“Plans?”

“I usually have a mapped out full schedule. With my free afternoon, I’d not thought much past talking with you.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching through the treetops. “I have something I have to do in town. Won’t take long. Then we can go out the mall, catch an early dinner at Harvest Chateau.”

“Never been.”

“Pamala’s running it this week.”

“I’m in.”

 

McNaughty Funeral Home was a large residential house converted to commercial use eight blocks up The Avenue from Collings Nook. “Eh,” Shawn commented from behind the wheel of her blue Toyota.

“It’s a long story and I think we’ve had enough long stories today. Let me just say, my father said he had no desire to bury his daughter.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that.”

I shrugged. “Pamala used to date her, eh, me. Pamala and my father had words last night, most of those words were Pamala’s, none of them kind.”

“I would have loved to have been there.”

“Brought a bystander to tears. In any event, I get to plan my own funeral. You can wait here.”

“Not a chance.”

 

Because I live a cliché, Mr. McNaughty was an elderly gaunt man, tall, gray hair close cropped, white complexion, crystal blue eyes, half perma-smile, dark blue suit draped on him, white shirt, red tie.

I identified the dearly departed. “I was told the FBI crime lab dropped her off this morning.”

He reached out, taking my hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been in touch with a local church her father suggested.”

“I bet that went well.”

“It did not. Seems she wasn’t –”

“I have her baptismal certificate, but never mind all that. Fuck them. Pardon my French. That’s French, right? I’m pretty annoyed right about now.”

“Understandable –”

I have no idea how this works. What can we do?”

“We have –”

“Mr. McNaughty. I think a nice coffin, the least expensive, is called for here,” Shawn said, stepping in front of me. “Two-hour viewing –”

“There’ll be no viewing, a memorial service, that –”

“Fine. Two-hour fucking viewing. Off to the cemetery. Nice plot at Bethal. That’s who you deal with, I understand. May we look at some flower books?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know whether you were aware –”

She waved him off. “Oh, we’re aware.”

Hands in front of his chest like a praying mantis, Mr. McNaughty nodded, more of a bow, stepping back. “I’ll get the paperwork.” He indicated the books.

I flipped some pages absently.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Shawn opened a book. “This, this and this. We’re done here. Want a wreath for the grave? Sure, you do. This one. Let’s at least pretend someone gives a fuck.”

“It’s not that, eh –”

“I know, I know.”

“Let me guess. You’ve done this before.”

“I’ve been looking around, checking things out, getting ready for when Jody comes home. At that time, I’m going to be pretty fucking annoyed, too” She glanced over her shoulder. “Get all that?”

Mr. McNaughty nodded. “Your beloved is in good hands.”

“I guess everyone is beloved when they’re dead,” I said.

“That they are, child. That they are.” He presented an invoice. Obviously, we were buying a package.

I swung Pamala’s bag off my shoulder.

 

I won my next argument, though hard fought, standing in the basement, Shawn thought to linger in the sales room, talking generic details.

The woman was barely thirty, a white lab coat to her ankles, black hair loose on her shoulders, brown eyes carefully watching me. “It’s something, huh?”

“I read National Geographic. Never miss an issue.”

“So, that’s prepared you.”

“Nothing could prepare me for this.”

“What happens is, when the fire’s hot enough, the fat in the tissues starts to burn.”

“Wick. Like a wax candle. The Romans used human flesh for their torches. I said I never miss an issue.” I leaned close, narrowing my eyes. “Doesn’t look human.”

“She’s not anymore.”

“Dark humor. I like it.”

 

“Do you always get your French fries in gravy?”

“Always.”

Pamala appeared over me. “Why are sitting down?”

I hurried to my feet. “Got a little snow earlier,” I said in her ear, holding on.

“Did you?”

“I did.”

“With her?”

“She not only watched, but danced, too.”

“Naked?”

“Is there any other way?”

She released me, standing over Shawn. “Why are you still sitting down?”

Shawn hurried to her feet, caught in an embrace.

“I heard you went naked dancing in the woods with my girlfriend. I’m jealous.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.”

“I’m waiting for better weather.”

Released, Shawn sat.

“Everything OK? I mean that as an employee of Harvest.”

“This ham is great,” Shawn said.

“The secret is too much brown sugar.”

“Shawn knows,” I said flatly.

“You told her?”

“Well, with you blurting out Toby was dead, the math wasn’t difficult from there.”

“Get Pete to cover Wednesday. You have a funeral.”

“I wasn’t planning –”

“You kind of have to.”

“Right, right.”

 

My truck started right up. Keith warned me sitting unused was bad on the battery. I could have wheeled everything over precariously balanced on the lawnmower, the Martin house only twelve blocks from my garage. The grass did not need cutting. I found bagging up leaves with the mower much easier than raking.

I’d picked up the fallen branches and twigs, raked out the front garden, when Mrs. Martin wandered out, watching me from the porch. “Hi, Toby,” she called. She was woman around twenty-five, too blonde to be natural, dark eyebrows, brown eyes, a soft jaw, puffy rose lips, wearing a gray layered causal dress, bare feet.

I leaned on the rake. “Hello.”

“Billy said you’d be by.”

“OK. Anything else?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I have work to do.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

I released a long sigh, pursing my lips. “It’s not that. Well, maybe it is. I’m much better at raking leaves than I am with people. My girlfriend says I’m a social idiot.”

If she were wearing pearls, she may have choked herself.

Fuck.

I packed all my 15-year-old-girl-cute into, “I don’t mean that kind of girlfriend!” I immediately regretted denying the most beautiful aspect of my life. Shawn, I owe you a super-hug.

“Oh, good thing. Sorry I misunderstood. Would you like some coffee? Maybe tea? A sandwich?”

“I’m good.”

 

Because I live a cliché, Wednesday brought a steady rain, heavy at times. An inadequate white canopy with McNaughty Funeral Home in bold letters on the fringe was set up adjacent to the grave, my casket hovering in the air above the hole. People crowded the canopy like ants on a bit of bread.

Two figures shared an umbrella off to the side, making it clear they were not welcome. They were my destination. I’d dressed in bibbed denim coveralls, a long raincoat from the army surplus store, my work boots, a yellow floppy fisherman’s hat, and I carried a shovel.

“I thought Father Sweet declined.” I chin-bobbed to the far side of the grave, a figure offering up prayer, a man behind him holding an umbrella.

“Hi, Toby,” Shawn said from the other side of Pam.

“Hey.”

“You look like a groundskeeper.”

“That’s the idea.”

Pam leaned toward me. “Shawn had a talk with Sweet. It seems once she gets started, she can scorch the paint right off the wall. He said some really nice things about you at your memorial. I had no idea you were that involved in church.”

“Never missed a Sunday. How was my memorial?”

“Packed house.”

“Get the fuck out!”

“That’s what they told Shawn and me, even with the fucking photo. You can be a real asshole.”

“I know, huh. I just couldn’t stand to see that eighth-grade school photo again.”

Shawn leaned across Pam. “That, Toby, is a great photo. You look so different.”

“With me and Pam in it, how could it not?”

“If Tammy had Holy Water, she would have been splashing the picture.”

“Yep,” Pamala said. “Waving that cross around was embarrassing enough. She made your father throw us out.”

“Speaking of embarrassing.” Shawn nodded, three people pulling my father off my casket.

“What an asshole.”

“Oh, there goes your mother!” Pamala said.

“So, all I had to do to get their attention was die.”

 

 

Part 17