Railroad Man

by Alle Wells

  I reached for her hand. “Come, sit down. Please.”

  I gently pulled her into the chair next to mine at the table. Her hand felt thin and frail in mine. Flo drank from the bottle and looked out the window on the opposite side of the kitchen toward Ackerman’s house.

  I examined the bright red paint on her fingernails. “Sorry I blew my top.”

  “It don’t matter,” she said.

  “Why have you been drinking?”

  Flo pulled her hand away, fiddled with her nails, and shrugged.

  “Just lonesome, I guess.”

  “And the trash, what’s that all about?” I asked.

  Flo pointed to the house next door and raised her voice as if Katleen could hear her. “She came over here last week all puffed up ’cause a stray dog got into the trash and strewed a little bit in her yard. So I figured I’d give her some real trash to get mad over.”

  I tried to understand her way of thinking. “What made you think of doing such a thing with the chicken, rats and all?”

  Flo leaned back and crossed her arms like a determined child. She talked faster, like a wind-up toy. “My mama did it. She called it a spite fence. I bought the chicken planning to cook it, but I didn’t know how. The rats were already in the can. But I told her that she better not mess with me. I warned her. She better not mess with me.”

  I reached over and touched her arm. The slippery cloth of the pink robe made my skin crawl. “Come on, Little Kitten. She’s not worth getting all worked up over. Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

  Flo cut her eyes at me cautiously. “I’ll leave her alone if she leaves me alone.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. Maybe Jim and I can work something out. But you’re going to have to get used to me being gone. My job has changed. I might be gone three weeks out of the month. You can’t just sit here and drink all the time.”

  Flo pointed toward Ackerman’s house. “How come her husband comes home every Friday and you don’t?”

  “That’s ’cause he’s older than me, see? I’ve got to put more time in than he does,” I chuckled. “I’ve got to pay my dues so you can buy pretty things like this nice robe you’re wearing.”

  Flo brushed her hands over the robe. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”

  “By the way, where’s the car?” I asked.

  Flo jumped up. “Well, I better get dressed.”

  I followed her through the house and stepped over the dirty laundry piled on the floor in the hallway. I tried, unsuccessfully, to control my voice. The words came out in a threatening tone.

  “Where’s the car, Flo?”

  She stopped in front of the bathroom door. “Oh, the car, well, it’s over at Jack’s place. He said for you to call him when you got home.”

  “I’ll do that. While I’m talking to him, I’ll see if he knows somebody who can come in and clean this place up.”

  Flo slammed the bathroom door and turned the lock.

  ***

  Jack stopped in front of the house in a red wrecker truck. “Hey Mickey, old boy, I hope you don’t mind riding in the truck. I had to drop a car off at the junkyard and thought I’d swing by.”

  I smiled. “Not at all. I appreciate you picking me up. But I thought you’d drive my car over.”

  Jack shook his head. “Mick, that car is hopeless, totaled.”

  “Totaled? What do you mean totaled?”

  Jack kept his eye on the road and used his fingers to drive home his point. “Just what I said. Flo’s lucky she didn’t hit that traffic cop. That cop was boiling mad. I’m surprised he didn’t throw her in the pokey.”

  I exhaled a long, tired sigh. “I’m in the dark on this one, Old Buddy. Tell me everything from the beginning.”

  Inside the station, Jack plucked a couple of RC Colas from the red drink box. He sat across from me in a straight-backed chair.

  “You know how crowded it is over there at that three-point road where Argonne crosses over North Avenue and Ponce de Leon. A cop directs traffic there at lunchtime and quitting time for the factory nearby. Bailey, the cop on duty the day it happened, told me that Flo came barreling through there at maybe thirty-five miles an hour. He said he waved his arms and blew the whistle, but she didn’t even slow down. He said he jumped out of the way and fell flat on his butt just before Flo slammed into the side of a produce truck. The street was shut off for three hours while the city cleaned up the mess. Yeah, I gotta tell you, Mickey, that car of yours is a goner.”

  I leaned over and held my head in my hands. “What next? I’ve only been home three hours, and I find one mess after another. I don’t know what to do about her, Jack.”

  Jack held up his hands. “I just fix cars, not lives. We all have to do that for ourselves.”

  I looked up at my life-long friend. “Yeah, you’re a lot of help. How about driving me over to the Chevrolet shop? I guess you can take the old one to the dump after I take my stuff out.”

  Jack scratched his chin. “What kind of stuff do you have in there?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess there’s something.”

  Jack started pointing his fingers again. “Well, I’d have to cut that car in two pieces to get the doors open. I ain’t got that kind of equipment.”

  I crammed my fists into my pants pockets and felt the heat rise in my face. “Damn, that woman is a pain in the ‘you-know-what’.”

  Jack slapped me on the back. “You’re my best friend, Mickey. You deserved better luck in life, that’s a fact. But I do suggest you take out some insurance on your next car.”

  I gave him a half-smile and nodded. “That’s a good idea. By the way, do you know a good housekeeper?”

  Jack said, “There’s a widow lady at my church who needs a job. She’s a customer of mine, owes me money on her gas tab, too. I’ll give you her number.”

  “Do you think she can come today?”

  Jack laughed. “She sure needs the money. Come on inside. We’ll give her a call.”

  ***

  I bought a brand-new Chevrolet Fleetmaster fastback. The car was green like Flo’s living room furniture and carpet. The interior wood paneling made the car smell good. I drove over to the Kirkwood Baptist Church to pick up Mrs. Jenkins.

  Mrs. Jenkins, holding her pocketbook in front with two hands, stood at the end of the churchyard next to the street. She was a prim looking little woman wearing a black Sunday dress coat and a little topknot of a hat on her head. I pulled up to the curb, leaned over and opened the door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Jenkins?”

  Mrs. Jenkins nodded. “How do?”

  “I’m Jack’s friend, Mick MacDonald. Hop in. I live over on Edinburgh.”

  “This is a nice car. Is it new?” Her worn, husky Southern accent reminded me of Mother. I liked her immediately.

  “Yes, ma’am. I just drove it off the lot. You and I are the first to ride in it.”

  “Well now, ain’t that somethin’?”

  I gave her my best smile. “I hope you don’t mind a little hard work. I’ve been out of town for awhile, and my house is a real mess.”

  Mrs. Jenkins waved her hand at me. “Oh, I’m no stranger to hard work. Glad to do it. Are you a bachelor man?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. I have a wife, but she’s been through some hard times. She’s not up to cleaning and such.”

  Mrs. Jenkins turned her head toward me. “I’m sorry. Is your wife sick?”

  I pulled into my driveway. “Well, Mrs. Jenkins, I would say that is a matter of opinion.”

  I opened the front door just a crack to check things out before Mrs. Jenkins came in. “Oh, Flo. Flo? I brought someone over to clean the house.”

  Flo sailed into the living room dressed in a navy blue taffeta dress with tight fitting long sleeves and a deep plunging neckline that would probably take me months to pay off.

  I led Mrs. Jenkins into our house. “Flo, this is Mrs. Jenkins. She’s a friend of Jack’s. Would you like to show her around?�
�

  Flo tapped a cigarette on a metal case. “Sure.”

  She jerked her head to the side and said, “Come on. You can start in my room. Lord knows I can’t find nothing in there.”

  I slipped out the front door and drove my new ride over to the Texaco. Jack got a big kick out of looking under the hood. I hung around the station for a while and then rode down to the terminal to see if any of my buddies were there. Later that afternoon, I pulled into my driveway again, ready to take Mrs. Jenkins home.

  Flo was sitting on the sofa looking at a movie magazine when I walked in. Mrs. Jenkins looked busy clearing the dining room table.

  Flo looked up. The navy blue dress drew attention to her big blue eyes. “There you are. Are we going out to dinner tonight?”

  “Sure thing,” I said. “Would you like to see our new car?”

  Flo smiled for the first time since I’d come home. “A new car? Oh, yes!”

  She ran out of the house ahead of me and jumped in the driver’s seat. She ran her hand over the wood paneling and wiggled her butt in the seat. “Oh, this is so nice. It’s the cat’s meow!”

  I was glad to see Flo happy. I felt confused about my feelings toward her. There was still something inside me that cared about her happiness. Even when I was disgusted with her or put out with her, I cared about her at the same time. She was beautiful that day dressed in her expensive clothes, sitting behind the wheel of a sporty new car. After all the trouble she’d caused, she looked flawless in her childlike way.

  I cautioned her, “Now you can’t smoke in it. And take it easy with her when you’re driving.”

  Flo nodded excitedly. “Oh, I will. You’re exactly right, dear.”

  I bent over and looked inside. “Hey, do you want to go over and show it off at Mother’s this weekend?”

  “Yeah! Wheee!” Flo gripped the big steering wheel and pretended to drive. “And I can show Sophia my new hairdo, too.”

  “Hey, Flo, what do you say we take Mrs. Jenkins home and then go out to dinner to celebrate?”

  Flo lit up and clapped her hands together. Making Flo happy was even easier than I’d described to Ackerman. With Flo, it was just a matter of money. I left her at the wheel, but I kept the keys in my pocket. Mrs. Jenkins had done a fine job of straightening up the place.

  “How’s it coming?” I asked.

  Mrs. Jenkins shook her head as she applied polish to the dining room table. “Mr. MacDonald, your wife is the worst housekeeper I’ve ever seen.”

  I laughed. “You’re probably right about that. Does that mean you’ll be back?”

  Mrs. Jenkins smiled at me bashfully. “Well, seeing how you’re so handsome, and I get to ride in that fancy car. Then sure, I’ll be back.”

  I paid Mrs. Jenkins generously and asked her if she could cook.

  ***

  I called ahead of time and made plans for Sunday dinner with Mother and the girls. I enjoyed the feel of the new car and drifted away in my thoughts while Flo turned the knob on the radio looking for a clear signal. I thought about Mother and the home place. I hardly recognized it as I turned onto the lane that led up to the house. The landscape I’d loved as a child was constantly changing as Mother continued to sell off more timber and land to the government. I’d read about a new highway that would come right by here. The paper said that new road would run clear across the state of Georgia. I smiled at the thought of my mother becoming a rich woman.

  Sophia and Sadie came out to greet us and cooed over the new car. My sisters hadn’t changed over the years; time seemed to stand still in their faces and their lives. I promised I’d take them for a ride after I had a good dinner. Lewis and Miss Sara walked up the lane from their house to join us. Lewis walked with a cane and Miss Sara leaned on him for support. My heart sank, seeing the people who had held me up my entire life look so old and fragile.

  “Oh, there’s my boy,” Miss Sara’s voice crackled.

  “It’s so good to see you both,” I said. Placing myself between them, I held them up to ease their burden.

  Mother held the back door open for us. “Well, Son, I see that this is still home to you since you use the back door.”

  The look in my mother’s eyes told me that she was in poorer health than the last time I’d visited. That day, I realized that the roots of my past wouldn’t be with me much longer. I gave her a delicate hug and asked, “Mother, how are you? Are you feeling well?”

  She avoided my eyes when she answered, “Why yes, Son, I’m just fine.”

  The Sunday dinner was as abundant and delicious as I remembered, but the conversation was less jubilant. Sadie, who usually bantered away about this or that, was quiet. The older family members concentrated on eating, which seemed to be a chore. Flo did most of the talking at first, which stayed within her range of the latest fashions and movies. When no one responded, the conversation died down to clinking silverware on plates.

  Sophia cleared her throat and spoke up, “I have an announcement to make. I guess this is as good a time as any.”

  The silverware stopped clinking, and all heads turned toward Sophia.

  She rolled her eyes from face to face. “I’ve accepted a job in Atlanta.”

  Mother chuckled. “You must be joking.”

  Sophia sat straighter in her chair. “No, Mother. I’m not joking. I’ve accepted a position with the Southern Bell Telephone Company.”

  Sadie laughed cynically. “Doing what?”

  Sophia held her poise and spoke defensively. “As an operator.”

  “Sophia!” Mother’s voice rose disapprovingly. “You’re much too educated for a job like that.”

  I’d never heard Sophia express herself as clearly as she did that day.

  “Yes, Mother. I’m educated enough to be a poor schoolteacher. I’m old enough to know that I’ll never be married. And I’m bored to death with living in the country. I want to live in the city. And I’ll make more money from the start than I ever have as a country schoolmarm.”

  Mother frowned. “But where will you live?”

  Flo jumped in. “She can live with me, I mean us,” she said, and then looked at me.

  I agreed. “Yes, that’s a great idea. Sophia can live with us. My new job keeps me away from home most of the time. She can live with us and keep Flo company.”

  Mother and Sadie looked at Sophia, Flo and me, stunned.

  Lewis chuckled, “Well, I guess that settles that.”

  Flo and Sophia laughed. For the first time in our marriage, Flo felt like a member of the family.

  Flo turned to Sophia. “We have that back room across from my room that’s never been used. Just tell me what colors you like, and I’ll call the decorator tomorrow.”

  I stabbed a slice of ham with my fork and said playfully, “When Flo calls the decorator, I call the banker.”

  Sophia looked relieved and more relaxed when she said, “I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll pay rent.”

  I reassured her. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll feel better knowing that Flo has some company while I’m gone. When do you start?”

  Sophia hesitated and said quietly, “A week from tomorrow.”

  Flo was livelier than I’d seen her since Dottie’s death. “Why don’t you come back with us today? We can get you settled in before you go to work.”

  Sophia looked at Mother and Sadie nervously, and nodded.

  “Well, all right, I’ll do it.”

  Flo broke into a big grin. So did Sophia.

  “Does the streetcar still run by your house?” Sophia asked.

  Flo said, “No, it’s been gone awhile now.”

  “How will I get to work?”

  I spoke up. “You can drive the new car to work. Right, Flo?”

  Flo nodded, anxious to agree with anything that would bring Sophia to Atlanta. Sophia’s decision had solved my problems. Having Sophia around would keep Flo off the streets during the day and allow me to stay in Riverside on the weekends. Sitting ther
e at my mother’s table, I started to think about getting back to Marianne. I started thinking about leaving for Huntsville a week early after I helped Sophia get settled in. I felt my face relax as I indulged in my secret plans and the thought of spending more time with Marianne. I felt relieved knowing that no one could read my mind. My mother’s voice brought me back to the dinner table.

  “Mickey, have you heard about the new highway coming through here?”

  I scooped a second helping of mashed potatoes and nodded. “Yes, I have.”

  She continued, “I’ve been talking to the man at the RFC. He said that construction should start sometime in the ’50s. I told him that I don’t think I’ll live that long.”

  I brushed off the thought. “Of course you will, Mother. Then you can come live with us, too.”

  Mother’s back stiffened. “Huh, me live in Atlanta? Not in this lifetime.”

  Lewis and Miss Sara chuckled quietly.

  After dinner, Sophia and Flo packed Sophia’s bags and loaded them in the car before anyone had time to object. They made quite a hullabaloo of dragging suitcases, clothes on hangers, and Sophia’s favorite lamp out to the car. Lewis and I stood on the porch in the afternoon sun and watched the women run in and out of the house.

  I poked Lewis in the side and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Flo work so hard. She’s going to love having Sophia around.”

  He nodded. Sadie, who had been unusually quiet that day, came out the front door. I turned toward her.

  “What do you think about all this, Sadie?”

  Sadie crossed her arms and leaned against the porch railing. “Sophia’s a dreamer. She never has accepted who she is or her station in life.”

  I looked at Sophia laughing as Flo heaved another suitcase into the car trunk.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I said.

  “Dreamers are runners, Mickey. I’m a realist. I don’t run off when the going gets rough.”

  Sadie went back in the house, slamming the screen door behind her.

  “What did she mean by that, Lewis?”

  Lewis placed his thumbs in the small pockets of his Sunday vest, rocked back and forth looking down at his wingtip shoes. “Mickey, your mother’s getting on in age and isn’t well. The girls have been carrying the load of taking care of her and the house. They’re not used to that. Your mama always took care of them, not the other way around. I don’t think Sophia and Sadie have been getting along lately. That may be why Sophia took that job in Atlanta.”