by Mae Argilan
There was a knock, followed by an echo between her ears. She wrapped the pillow around her head, and buried her face in the back of the couch. There was more noise, and a hissing of voices. Then, a hand was on her shoulder.
"Pst, Glenn. Some guy’s here," Mel said.
"Hung-uh," she groaned.
"Come on, you wanna see this guy?"
"No."
After more whispering, Mel was back. "He ain’t takin’ ‘no’ for an answer."
Glenn coughed up the word, "Who?"
"Some white dude."
She shook her head, and Mel left again. When he returned the third time, she knew sleep was gone for good.
"He says he gotta see ya."
She moistened her parched lips with a Velcro tongue. The way her luck was running, it was probably Bleetz. She squinted her eyes. Mel was standing at the door wearing an open shirt, boxer shorts, and high-top sneakers without socks. He had her baseball bat on his shoulder.
"Mel," she said. "It’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Get ready for school."
"What do ya think I was doing?"
Glenn pulled the blanket around her hips, and scooted to the edge of the couch. She closed her eyes, took a slow steady breath, then hazarded another peek. She shuffled to the door wearing her skit-blanket. As Mel headed for the bathroom, she said, "Give me Louie," and took the bat from him. "Somebody’s about to get a whoopin’."
How Mel knew the tall figure in the hallway was a white dude she’d never know. Glenn flicked the switch inside her apartment, which made it bright in there, but just as dark outside. She opened the door as wide as the security chain allowed.
"Get the hell outta here, Phil. Phil? Answer me. What do you want?"
"No. I’m not Phil."
"Well, who the hell are you?"
"Geoff."
"I don’t know any Geoff." She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. "Go away."
"Duncan, Geoff Duncan...remember?"
"No. Can you come back later? I’m not feeling very well."
"You were at my house last night...in Hagerstown." He put his face close to the door. "Bobby’s brother."
"Oh. What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"
A small white card came through the opening. Glenn leaned on the bat. The last time she saw that card he was slipping it into his shirt pocket. She’d taken it as a sign of disinterest. But, he was putting it aside in case he needed it. For what?
"What do you want?"
"Let me in, and I’ll tell you."
"Minute." She slammed the door, and unlatched the chain. "Sorry, but I’m not even sure of my own name before my first cup of coffee." She shuffled back to the sofa. "Besides, can’t be too careful in this neighborhood."
Mel came out of the bathroom, and stared at Geoff. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Glenn said.
Mel continued staring. "You sure?"
"Yes, Jacqmel, this guy is harmless," she said. "Now, hurry up, you’re already late for school."
Mel walked to the bedroom, turned, and said, "I’ll be right inside getting dressed, if you need me."
Glenn turned her trained eye on Geoff. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a berry red T-shirt. His fingers were shoved into the front pockets of jeans that were the same shade of black as his Nikes, and his eyes were on Jacqmel. What did he think about her having an African-American adolescent in her apartment in the morning, in his underwear?
She sat on the sofa in a heap of blankets. "You had something to tell me?"
Geoff sat in the corner of the couch. "Now that I’m here, it seems kind of stupid."
"You won’t get an argument from me. You may have noticed, I’m not a morning person."
The bedroom door opened, and Mel came through the living room. "I can stay. If you want."
"Go to school, Jacqmel. Oh, let me get you some money," Glenn said.
"I already got it."
"Your books?" she asked.
"I’ll pick ‘em up next door." Mel shot one more look at Geoff. "See ya," he said, opening the front door. "Wouldn’t wanna be ya."
"See ya," she said. "Have a good one."
Geoff asked, "How old is he?"
"Fifteen. Shocked?"
"A little."
"Let me guess. You’re a redneck bigot? What a surprise."
"Obviously there’s nothing sexual going on since you’re sleeping out here," Geoff said.
"Maybe I got kicked out of bed for snoring."
Geoff shook his head. "No, but he is protective of you. But, it has more of a friend feel to it, or a son protecting his mom, except his schoolbooks are next door. So, you’re being a good neighbor, and that means you’re probably a decent human being. That’s what shocks me."
"Didn’t think I had it in me?"
"Frankly, no. Especially after what you did last night."
"I thought we had called a truce," she said.
"I thought so, too. Until my mom was making breakfast for you, but you weren’t there. Imagine our surprise. More to the point, imagine my mother’s disappointment."
"And, that’s what you came here to tell me? That breakfast is ready?"
He stuck out his bottom lip. "I came to tell you’re a selfish brat. I don’t know why you went sneaking off like that. But, I figure you probably do that sort of thing all the time. Then I thought, maybe nobody ever called you on it. How are you supposed to know better if nobody ever calls you on it? My mom would never be so rude."
"Fortunately, she has you for that: the ‘manners police’. You know, you spend a lot of time hiding behind your mother."
Glenn got to her feet, and scowled down at him. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving prominence to his basset hound eyes as he looked up at her. They were soft and kind, and Glenn had the sudden sensation she was drowning in chocolate. She took a deep breath.
"Why don’t you stand up to me like a man?"
"What is that supposed to mean? I don’t even know what that means," he said, rising.
"I mean, stop saying this is for your mom, and just have the gonads to speak for your own self."
"That’s what I’m doing."
"Well, speak up. Loud, and clear so there aren’t any further ‘miscommunications’."
Geoff’s brow puckered. "I don’t know why you did such a deceitful thing as slinking off in the middle of the night without leaving a note thanking Mom for her hospitality. My mom—yes, Mom—was hurt and confused. She just assumed it was somethingshe had done wrong."
"That’s ridiculous."
"I should have trusted my instincts about you. You probably don’t even have any intention of using the photographs you took. It was just an excuse to get into the house. I know that’s crazy. I know you were there to take pictures, I know that."
"That’s where I went," Glenn said. "To develop the pictures. I told you, I got the shots I needed last night. I told you that."
"But, you didn’t say you were leaving," Geoff said. "Nor did you have the common decency to leave a note."
"I figured you’d be glad to see me gone."
"Nobody is more surprised to find me here, than me. I just had to ask why you flew the coop. Now that I’m here, and I see how you had to get back for personal reasons."
"You don’t know anything more about me, or my personal reasons, than you did last night."
"Sure, I do. I know about what’s-his-name. Jack."
"Jacqmel."
"That’s the last thing I expected from you," he said.
"That’s the trouble with making snap judgments. That’s why photographers take more than one shot. It’s the only way to get thewhole picture."
"Yeah, yeah, and you can’t tell a book by the cover." He sat down.
"How did you find me? I know my card has the address on it, but it doesn’t have the apartment number."
"I found your name on the mailbox," he said.
"I forgot to get my mail last night. Now where did
he put those keys? It’s too early to play hide and seek."
"There they are, on the end table. But, you’re not dressed to go out." His eyes moved up and down her torso, lingering on her legs. "I’ll fetch the mail for you."
She tugged the blanket around her a little tighter. "I’ve got to have a shower. Just put the mail on the coffee table...oh, and you can have a cup of instant coffee if you want to make it. To go, for the trip back."
Glenn’s close-cropped hair was washed, and toweled dry in minutes. She pulled on a pair of black Lycra bicycle pants, dropped a large sweatshirt over her hips, and dragged a brush through her hair. The whole ritual took less than fifteen minutes. She found Geoff looking through some prints she’d framed, but hadn’t found time to hang. He squatted beside her worktable, and sifted through them. She fished her heavy socks out from under the sofa, and put them on.
"See anything you like? Everything’s for sale."
"I like them all," Geoff said.
"Will that be cash or charge?"
"I don’t want to buy them."
"You like them, just not enough to spend money on them. Story of my life."
"Of course, if you wanted to make of gift of one of them to me," Geoff said.
"Everybody wants something for free," she said.
"Hey, itis Christmas. Time for giving gifts."
"Also time for commerce. How come everybody else can make a buck at Christmas, but me?"
"Because you’re anartiste ? You’re above that sort of crass commercialism."
"Yeah, that must be it." She looked through the stack of mail on the table. "Just what I need. More bills."
Geoff wandered around the apartment. "It’s halfway nice here."
"It’s an armpit. You don’t have to be kind. It’s a crime-ridden slum, but it’s all I can afford. If it wasn’t for places like this, I wouldn’t have no place at all. Hey, I know, I could live in my car like the more fashionable bums. But, darn it," she snapped her fingers, "I can’t afford one of those either."
"It has possibilities," Geoff said. "Better than my dorm."
"Oh, yes, it’s quite the little fixer-upper...a real handyman special."
"Now see, this is interesting. In the middle of these chic second-hand-store furnishings is a fax machine. It’s out-of-place. It’s expensive, hi-tech, brand new."
"That was a gift. My friend, Shane, who was my boss, got it for me so we can keep in touch. Sometimes I need to send a reproduction, a facsimile, which is after all how the fax machine got its name. Are you hanging around for some reason?"
"You promised me coffee. Do you know you have no food in the house?"
"Not even coffee? Too bad. Well, better luck next time."
"Tell you what. I’ll go to the store for you," he said.
"I haven’t gotten to the cash machine. I’m not sure I have more than a dollar, oh, and Mel took that this morning."
"My treat, okay? No strings attached. Oh, maybe one."
"Figures," she said.
"You write a note to my mom, and I’ll make like a hunter-gatherer and bring some grub to your cave."
"You don’t have to bribe me, I’ll write the stupid note."
Geoff leaned toward her. "I’ve looked through your cupboards, Ole Mother Hubbard. You havegot to be hungry. When was the last time you ate?"
She tried to remember. "Why do you want to be nice to me? I thought you didn’t like me."
"I thought so, too. We’re both full of surprises, aren’t we?"
"Will you bring back a quart of milk? I don’t drink it myself, but Mel likes to have cereal."
Geoff smiled. "Your eyes may have shutters on them, but your heart is an open door."
"Which, in case you hadn’t noticed, is locked, and chained, and carries a baseball bat."
When Geoff returned, Glenn had the kitchen counter cleared, and was bringing a kettle to a boil. She took two salmon-colored Melmac cups from the drain board, and made coffee. She spooned nondairy creamer into hers, then perched on a counter stool, and watched him. Geoff seemed comfortable in the kitchen. He was the sort of person who was at ease with himself, and therefore with the world in general. As he cooked, he chatted about himself. He was in his third year at the University of Maryland, and had not declared a major. Actually, he declared a new major every semester. Nothing seemed to fit. He wasn’t focused like his brother. Bobby knew he was going to enlist as soon as he graduated. But, things weren’t so simple for Geoff. He remained uncommitted.
"What’s that stuff you’re putting on my plate?" she asked.
"It’s scrapple."
"It smells yucky. I’m not eating it."
"You’re going to try it." Geoff slid it off the spatula. "After I took all this time to fry it up for you."
She wrinkled her nose, sliced off a corner, and put it on her tongue. "Not bad."
"Now it’s your turn. Tell me all about Glenn Prentiss."
"I’m not very interesting."
"Doubtful."
She told him how her father left when she was a baby and how her mother did the best she could, but she died during Glenn’s teen years. To keep her from becoming a ward of the court, her uncle took her. He was a photojournalist, and traveled a lot.
Geoff said, "So he’s the one who taught you the business?"
"He didn’t like me very much, and wasn’t shy about reminding me of what a drag I was on his social life. I got the idea that if I learned the trade we’d have something in common. Trouble was he’d rather have an appendectomy than teach some snot-nosed kid to take pictures. I guess you could say I learned in spite of him, or to spite him. A funny thing happened, though. When I was seventeen we went to France. He was documenting the journey of World War II veterans who liberated Paris back in the Forties."
"In 1945," Geoff said, and shrugged. "I was a history major once."
"I found one of the vets in this knoll. The morning light was filtering through the trees, and there was mist around his feet. Very ethereal, very spiritual. I got closer as he knelt down, and folded his knotted hands. It was like a church, a sacred spot. His eyes welled up with tears, and he said to me, ‘This is where he died’. I was so moved, I didn’t even realize I was taking pictures. I was so caught up in the moment. This old guy tells me about his buddy, the whole story like it just happened. Here it’s like half a century later, and he’s raised a family, and is living off some pension, and yet in his heart, his friend had just died. Then, he says how his buddy will always be frozen in time at the age of 18, and never have kids or grandkids, but also wouldn’t get wrinkles, or the rheumatism. And he asks me which one of them I felt more sorry for. I said the first thing that came to mind, standing in that sacred spot, surrounded by sunlight, and memories of long ago. I told him, ‘It’s good to be alive’. And, he looked around at the green earth, and blue sky, and says that I’m right, itis good to be alive. It was an intensely personal moment, and I realized it was in my power to share that with people who would never walk on that green grass, or gaze into the blue heavens over France."
"Were you able to publish the pictures?" Geoff asked.
"I sold them to Life magazine, if you can believe it," Glenn said.
"I think I saw them. A couple years ago? Man, your uncle must have been beaming."
"That’s what I thought. I’ll never forget it. He told me I hadn’t paid my dues yet, and it would probably be a cold day before I sold anything again."
"Jealousy is an ugly thing," Geoff said. "He should have been more professional. Forget the fact that he’s family, whatever happened to professional courtesy?"
"I wasn’t a professional, and didn’t deserve any, the way he saw it."
"That stinks," Geoff said.
"So does scrapple." She smiled. "But it tastes good. Can I have some more?"
His smile was soft and sexy. "You’re adorable when you sound like Oliver Twist. You should eat this every morning. It’d put some meat on those skinny bones of yours. So, what happen
ed next?"
"Let’s see. On the weight of my portfolio, and with a reference from the Veterans Administration, I had the luck of being chosen as Shane Singleton’s assistant. There were much more qualified applicants. I know he just felt sorry for me."
"Yeah, maybe he noticed your lean and hungry look, like I did. You have this way of making a man want to feed you, take care of you. Unintentional, I’m sure, and probably untrue. You’re a lot better at taking care of yourself than I’ll ever be, but that’s the vibe you give off, whether you mean to or not. Something in your eyes."
"My eyes again? I gotta start wearing shades when you’re around."
He smiled again. It was a very warm and inviting smile. Glenn wondered if he was aware of the vibe he was giving off. Yeah, he’d been manipulating her since he’d showed up at her door. Caught her while she was vulnerable, just waking up with a hangover. Figured out she was barely scratching out a living, then proceeded to try to draw her in with compliments about her house and her work. Then, he ran errands for her, like he was her boyfriend, or something. He wanted something from her, no doubt about that, besides the courtesy note to his mother. What a moron he was if he expected her to be that gullible. The question remained, though, what did he want?
"So that’s the guy who bought you the fax machine? Just friendship, huh? Or, was there a possible office romance? Uh-oh, no, I think not?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because, right now, you look as if you’d like to split me open from gullet to gizzard with a bottle opener. I don’t think you’d be that indignant at being confronted with something you actually did."
"You’re on the right track. We’re very close, but not in that way. He let me stay with him and his wife until I got my first apartment. I guess they sort of adopted me."