She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be

by J. D. Barker

  Gerdy and I walked back to my building from the attorney’s office in complete silence, our hands intertwined.

  I might have been in shock.

  I was most certainly stunned.

  Gerdy hadn’t fared much better.

  Matteo had went on, as if inheriting nearly three million dollars from an aunt you thought was destitute was a rather normal occurrence. There was talk of colleges and boarding schools, possible career options or travel, allowances and per diems. His words slipped past me like river water over a smooth stone. I heard them but didn’t really hear them.

  When we reached my building, I stopped Gerdy at the door and turned to her. “We can’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not a soul.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not even Krendal or the people at the diner. Not until I wrap my head around everything.”

  “Not even Dunk?” she asked.

  “Not even Dunk.”

  “Okay.”

  She twisted her fingers in mine and brushed the hair from my eyes. It was getting long again. Auntie Jo used to cut my hair for me. I’d have to get it cut again soon. Maybe Gerdy would—

  “Why not?” Gerdy asked.

  I should have had an answer for that, but I didn’t, not anything that made sense. These were my friends. In many ways, they were my family. With Auntie Jo gone, they were all I cared about in life. Why not tell them?

  “They’d be happy for you.”

  “I know they would.”

  “Then why?”

  I sighed, staring down at our feet pointing toward each other on the cracked sidewalk. “Whatever just happened doesn’t feel real to me. This kind of thing doesn’t happen, not to me, not to people like us. I’m still trying to process Auntie Jo’s death. This is all too much. Right now, I need normal, I need stability. I want to go back to the diner and wash dishes and cook and pretend everything is like it was. I want to go upstairs and find Auntie Jo chain-smoking at the window.”

  “She’s gone, though. You need to accept that,” Gerdy said softly. “You need to move on.”

  “I know I do, I just don’t want to. At least, not today.”

  “She’s gone and she left you a gift, the greatest gift she could. Something wonderful. She found a way to give you a better life. The best life.”

  “Accepting that money. Telling people about the money. That makes her death real. I don’t know that I’m ready for that, not yet.”

  “Not telling people won’t bring her back.”

  “I know.”

  “Doing something with the money, going to college like she wanted, becoming something important…that’s how you honor her memory. You keep her alive through your actions.” Gerdy smiled up at me, the freckles on her nose crinkling. “You’re one of the good guys, Jack. She didn’t want you to spend your life in the kitchen or at the sink of some little hole-in-the-wall diner in Pittsburgh.”

  “I’ve spent my entire life thinking that is all I would ever be. I can’t just change that. I can’t spin on a dime like that. I have no idea what else I want to do.”

  “You’re a wonderful artist,” Gerdy said. “Maybe you should pursue that. You’re a good cook, too. Maybe you can open a restaurant. You don’t have to decide today, or next week.”

  “Today, I just want to be a dishwasher and a cook.”

  Gerdy nodded. “Then today, that is what you’ll be.”

  “So you won’t tell anyone?”

  She ran a finger over her lips. “Not a soul. Not until you’re ready.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her. She hadn’t expected it. I didn’t either, but it felt right. It felt nice. Stella entered my mind and I forced her away, the guilt burning at me.

  As we parted, Gerdy smiled up at me, her eyes glistening in the morning sun. “I’m okay with being the other girl,” she whispered.

  I placed my hands on either side of her face. “I’m not. You’re better than that.”

  There was so much more to say, and I had none of the words to say it. Instead, I opened the door to my building and held it open for her, and the two of us stepped inside in utter silence.

  On the third floor, I led her to apartment 304. “It’s this one.”

  When I only stood there, when I didn’t knock, Gerdy did. She reached for the door and gave it three loud taps. When a minute passed and nobody answered, she knocked again.

  “Go away,” a voice said from inside, muffled by the door.

  “Ms. Leech? It’s Jack, from across the hall. We need to talk.”

  “It’s not grocery day. I don’t want to talk. Go away.”

  “We just came from Dewitt Matteo’s office, Aunt Jo’s attorney. He said he spoke to you.”

  “I told him I don’t want no kids. This world is no place for kids,” she said from behind the door. Still muffled, but closer this time. “You said, ‘we.’ Who’s with you?”

  “My name is Gerdy McCowen, Ms. Leech. I work with Jack at Krendal’s Diner.”

  She was at the door now, probably pressed right up against the other side. “I told the attorney that Jack boy is a thief. He stole my book. He can’t be trusted. He probably has no business being in the company of young ladies, either. You’re not safe with a boy like that.”

  Gerdy looked at me and mouthed, Book?

  I turned back to the door. “Do you mean Great Expectations?”

  “You took the book from me, said you’d bring it back, and you never did. That’s theft, and thieves are an evil lot.”

  “I have it right across the hall in my room, Ms. Leech. I can get it if you want, but I still read it all the time. It’s one of my favorite books. I folded some pages and marked up others. Maybe I should get you a new one?”

  She fell silent for a moment, then: “I do love a new book. It’s been years since I was the recipient of a new book. Maybe something else, though. I don’t much care for Dickens.”

  I leaned against the door. “How about this? Make a list of your favorite authors, and I’ll bring you ten new books on Thursday with the groceries.”

  “Ten?”

  “Ten.”

  “How about twelve?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, twelve.”

  “And a new copy of Great Expectations to replace the one you stole. I don’t much like an incomplete collection. There’s a hole on my bookshelf home to nothing but dust.”

  “Deal.”

  There was a click as a lock disengaged, followed by another, another after that. When Ms. Leech opened the door, she opened it just enough to glance at the two of us, then up and down the hallway, no doubt confirming we were alone. When satisfied, she opened the door a little further and ushered us inside. “Hurry.”

  Gerdy stepped past her, with me at her back. Ms. Leech closed the door swiftly behind us, engaged three dead bolts, and set the security chain.

  It had been years since I last saw the inside of Elfrieda Leech’s apartment, and at first glance, I couldn’t help but wonder when someone else had last stepped foot inside. Did she even allow Mr. Triano, the building super, through that door?

  The stacks of newspapers I remembered as a child still towered over me, now reaching to the ceiling only to begin with a fresh stack beside each base. Those secondary stacks stood nearly as tall as the first, and with so many, the room had been swallowed up by them. Ms. Leech’s apartment had the same floor plan as mine, so I knew where specific rooms should be, but at first glance, this was a foreign place, a maze of paper towers growing from the hardwood floor. I knew the back wall housed two windows, same as mine, both covered in aluminum foil—any light trying to get in from outside encouraged to go elsewhere.

  Ms. Leech was staring at me, her mouth agape. “You are all grown up? When did that happen?”

  She had never owned a television, and as far as I knew, years had passed since the last time she set foot outside this apartment. Her only contact with the outside world came from the newspapers delivered to her
door. I wondered if time passed for her as it did for the rest of us—this place, and she too, seemed trapped somewhere in the past, a dark spot between the ticks and tocks of the world’s clock.

  Beside me, Gerdy sneezed. “I’m sorry, my allergies have been horrible today.”

  Considering the condition of this place, it was a wonder all three of us weren’t sneezing. A blanket of dust covered everything, thick enough that the original color of every surface now had the same dull, gray pallor. If I ran my finger over something, I’d be willing to bet I wouldn’t leave a streak behind, but instead the dust would peel up like a thick quilt.

  Ms. Leech rounded two of the newspaper piles and disappeared from sight toward the place where the kitchen should be. “Would you like a glass of milk, or water, or tea or coffee?”

  Gerdy quickly shook her head.

  “No, thank you,” I replied.

  “Tea it is, then,” she called back. “I always have tea this time of day. Please take a seat near the fire, give me a moment to prepare. I wasn’t expecting guests today. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to straighten up.”

  Gerdy and I both looked at each other, then around the room. We could barely move a foot in any direction.

  I nodded toward the living room. “I remember a fireplace, back over there.” I took her hand in mine and led her through the stacks, toward the back of the apartment, toward the covered windows.

  My apartment did not have a fireplace, and although Ms. Leech’s did, it was clear it hadn’t been lit in a very long time. Three logs sat stacked in the hearth, precariously balanced and held together by spiderwebs thick enough to appear a solid mass of dull white. Books covered the mantle as well as the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace, two, sometimes three rows deep, with more books piled in front on the floor, smaller versions of the newspaper towers. Although these stacks appeared random, I realized the books were actually in alphabetical order by author. Filthy with dust, like every other surface. The dust here was haphazard, though—some spines were streaked with recent touches, others nearly unreadable.

  A couch and two chairs sat facing the fireplace with a small table between.

  Gerdy and I sat on the couch, careful not to touch anything.

  When Ms. Leech appeared holding a sterling silver serving tray, she simply stared at us for the longest time before finally saying, “I’m afraid that’s my seat.”

  Gerdy and I relocated to the two chairs.

  Ms. Leech set the tray down on the rickety table and handed each of us a china cup of steaming tea on an equally delicate saucer. “Milk or sugar?”

  We both shook our heads and watched as she added both to her own cup before settling into the couch, taking a sip, then setting the cup down on the table. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  I attempted to drink some of the tea, nearly burned my lip, then just held the cup awkwardly in my hands. “I figured we should talk about Auntie Jo. She made you my guardian. I wanted to thank you, I guess.”

  Ms. Leech’s eyes darted from me to Gerdy and back again over the rim of her cup. “You are to receive a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars. That is meant to cover your rent, your utilities, and your groceries. You’ll buy my groceries now, too.”

  “I already buy your groceries, every Thursday.”

  “I expect you to pay for my groceries,” she corrected.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “This will be considered payment for my services. In return, should anyone ask, I will tell them you are my charge and you live under my roof and you follow my rules, none of which involve stealing books or other items belonging to others.” She paused, then added, “Use of the word other twice in the same sentence is sloppy grammar. I’m usually much better than that, but I’m nervous. I haven’t had guests in some time.” She drank more tea, the cup clicking against the saucer.

  Gerdy smiled. “Were you close to Josephine?”

  “Who?”

  “Auntie Jo,” I said. “Nobody called her Josephine.”

  “Were you close to Jack’s Auntie Jo?”

  Ms. Leech nodded. “We were like sisters at one time, then we weren’t. It was better that we weren’t.”

  “Did something happen?”

  She grew pale at this. “Something always happens. How is your tea?”

  “Wonderful.” Gerdy smiled, although I don’t think she drank any. “Did you have some kind of falling out?”

  If the table between us offered some kind of concealment, I probably would have kicked Gerdy beneath it. Unfortunately, this table did not, so all I could do was frown at her. This was none of our business. I was beginning to wonder exactly why we came here. Gerdy smiled back at me. This time she did take a sip of her tea, then returned her gaze to Ms. Leech. “To take on the guardianship of a child is such a huge responsibility, particularly if you aren’t close. That’s why I asked.”

  “We are all guardians of each other on some level.”

  Gerdy sneezed again. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Allergies.”

  Ms. Leech plucked a tissue from the box beside her and handed it to Gerdy. “I had a cat once. She ran away the day the bad people came.”

  Gerdy wiped her nose. “The men who hurt you?”

  “The people in white, yes.”

  I nearly dropped my tea at this. “People in white?”

  “They bring nothing but pain.” She looked to the side, her thoughts lost. “My cat’s name was Bumkins. I set food out for him every day, but he never did come back. Horrible, horrible time.”

  “Who are the people in white?” Gerdy asked.

  “Starkist tuna, not even that brought him back. Not even his favorite. My wonderful Bumkins.”

  Gerdy was about to say something else. I silenced her with a glance, then set my teacup down on the table. “Ms. Leech? Who are the people in white?”

  Ms. Leech set her tea down on the table and looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “I have something for you, something you should see, something you should know. Something Jo gave me to hold and protect.” She bent her fingers so far back, I thought for sure one would snap. “The word something over and over again. Repeated. A pattern. Patterns are bad. Patterns get you caught. Must keep them guessing. Always guessing. Random. Different. The unexpected.” Her words trailed off as she continued to mumble to herself, the two of us lost to her.

  “Ms. Leech?” I clapped my hands loudly and she startled, her eyes finding focus.

  She looked at me, her lips pursed. “I don’t talk about the people in white. Never. It’s best none of us speak of them, I think. I do have something for you, though. I suppose I should give that to you.”

  She stood and left the room, disappearing among the stacks of newspapers.

  The box?

  I thought of the box from my dream. The box my father had given Auntie Jo.

  Had she hidden it with Ms. Leech all these years?

  I had torn our apartment up looking for it. Year after year, always searching for this box I could never find. Could it really have been right here, across the hall, the entire time?

  My palms grew sweaty.

  Gerdy eyed me nervously, sipping at her tea.

  In the fireplace, a plump spider crept over the wood and around the back of the topmost log.

  From one of the bedrooms came the sound of shuffling, followed by a minor crash, and I could only imagine the woman moving through clutter not unlike the mess out here but ages older. She didn’t return for nearly five minutes, and when she did, she held an envelope, yellow with age.

  Not the box.

  Ms. Leech said, “This is what they wanted, the day they hurt me. I didn’t give it to them, though. It wasn’t theirs to have.”

  She set the envelope down in front of me, and I reached for the flap.

  Ms. Leech placed her hand over mine. “Not here,” she said. “I don’t want to see what is inside. Not ever again. Knowing leads to nothing but bad things.”
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br />   The envelope was addressed to my father.

  I kicked the door of my apartment shut with the heel of my foot and crossed over to the living room, with Gerdy at my side. I cleared off a spot on the coffee table and set the envelope down, staring at it.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Gerdy asked.

  I drew in a breath, tried to slow my pounding heart, the anxiety creeping over my skin.

  The hospital bed had been removed yesterday.

  The room seemed empty without it.

  Gerdy sat on the edge of the coffee table and looked me in the eye. “Do you want me to open it?”

  I shook my head, picked up the envelope, and peeled back the flap. The glue had dried ages ago, now stiff and brittle. The single page crinkled as I unfolded the old paper, this letter my father had once held.

  Gerdy came around behind me and read over my shoulder.

  Eddie,

  They know about the baby. I’m not sure how they know, but they do. Emma is frantic. Not sleeping. Neither of us, really. Christ, man, how could they find out? We were so careful. I thought Emma was just being paranoid when she said she saw one of them last week, and then I started seeing them, too. White coats everywhere. At first, I told myself it was nothing. Hell, I saw a little girl, couldn’t have been more than seven, wearing a white ski parka, and before I knew it, my hand was on my gun. I’m not that guy, Eddie! We were staying at a little place in Vermont at that point, just outside Stowe. Figured best to blend with other families, right? Then I saw another. A man this time. Probably mid-thirties. I saw him across the street from the gas station, watching me but not watching me, you know? Then I saw the same guy again the next day driving slow down our street. The day after, too. We left that night. Packed up our stuff and just left. Went to Florida after that. No coats in Florida, right? Ha! I thought I had it all figured out. That was worse, though, because I think they were still watching us, but they were harder to pick out of the crowds. Only one week in the Sunshine State, then back north for us. We saw them in Georgia, the Carolinas, too. I thought we lost them in Virginia. I was careful, kept getting off the highway, taking back roads for a while, then random highways, even started heading out west for a bit. I veered off into Tennessee, and somehow they found us in a small town called Kingsford off 81. That time, they didn’t even try to hide. I pulled back the curtain on our hotel room, and three of them were staring back at me from the parking lot.