Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

  After Megan hung up, Janet said, “How’s the little guy?”

  “He’s great…” She bent down and rubbed Barney’s ears, then pointed a thumb toward Mick’s office. “The man’s waiting. See if you can cheer him up.”

  “Right, and thanks for the warning,” Janet said then headed across the broad layout room to a suite of offices in the far corner. Mick’s was on the far right and his door was shut. A glass window beside it revealed Mick on the phone. His voice rattled the walls.

  “I have a hole in my roof that needs fixing. You agreed to do it yesterday … No, listen … I don’t give a damn about your fucking truck. I want it done by tomorrow–understand?” He slammed the phone down and, raking his hand through his blond hair, stood up.

  Janet had known Mick for about five years. Though she had never been a target of one of his legendary tirades, she knew enough to stay out of his way. She watched him rifle through the stack of files on his desk and pull one out. He was in his usual attire: jeans and khaki shirt. No suit and tie for Mick. He was a roll-up-your-sleeves-and-dig-in type of guy. Suddenly, he got up and before she knew it, was opening the door.

  Fixing her with his slate gray eyes, he grumbled, “I need a Coke and a cigarette. You want one?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t smoke.”

  “I know that,” he said. “I meant the Coke.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

  “Go in. I’ll be back in ten.” He turned on his heel, muttering and stalked across the open layout room. Even from where Janet stood, she heard him cursing under his breath. Tentatively, she took a seat in front of his desk amid a sea of banker’s boxes, empty soda cans, and a haze of smoke. On his desk was a stack of files. Beside them was a small, oval framed picture of his daughter, Vicky. She was tall like her father and shared his facial features; narrow jaw, thin nose, hairline lip, and brown hair.

  Mick came back and nudged the door shut with his hip. A copy of the Reporter was tucked under his arm. A soda was in each hand and a cigarette dangled from his lip. He set the paper and their sodas down on his desk, butted his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray, and said, “How was the ride?”

  “Not bad. Hit a little traffic near the city.”

  “As always.” He grabbed the file she had seen him pull out earlier and leaned back in his chair. His scowl had retreated but his furrowed brow remained. “So, how’s things?”

  “Good.” She studied his expression, wondering what was going on behind his measured gaze.

  “You know, we’re quite fond of your work here.”

  “Thanks. Glad you like it.”

  He pulled a letter out of the folder and held it out to her.

  Janet’s heart jumped. “What’s this?” she said, having an ill feeling. She knew the drill all too well; ‘we like your work, but funds are low. We’re sorry, but blah, blah, blah.’

  “An offer. The boys upstairs are looking to hire another full-time photographer and I think you’d be a perfect fit. So, how would you like a permanent gig?”

  Janet widened her eyes as she looked down the page, trying to grasp what had happened. At last, she looked up, hardly knowing what to say. “This is … um, unexpected. You really want me?”

  Mick crossed his arms. “Umm … yeah.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could say, yes,” Mick said, lighting another cigarette. He took a drag, and added, “It’s a good offer. Thirty-nine ‘K’ to start and I got you three weeks of vakay with full med.”

  Janet took a deep breath to calm her nerves and studied the letter again. At the bottom she saw a blank line waiting for her signature, but a voice deep inside her told her to wait.

  “There a problem?” Mick said.

  “No, it’s just so sudden and I’ve always been on my own. Used to my own schedule, you know.”

  Mick nodded. “I can certainly understand. I thought the same thing when they came to me nine years back and stole me from the streets. But you know what; it was the best thing that ever happened to me. No more worrying about where my next gig was coming from, whether or not I was going to make the mortgage payment and all that. And besides, you know we’re not all that rigid around here. You can come and go pretty much as you please most of the time except for Mondays, Wednesdays, and alternate Fridays when we need you here at the office.”

  Janet scanned down the page, fighting the urge to give a quick answer. Mick wasn’t a patient man. He liked people who could make sharp, snap decisions. She looked up at him. The last thing she wanted to do was burn a bridge. Her heart thumped. Thirty-nine ‘K’ was a lot of money, and full medical coverage was a luxury she had never been able to afford, say nothing of a paid vacation. But what if she was laid off? Finally, she said, “I’d like to think about it, if it’s okay.”

  “Sure, but don’t take too long. The boys up there are an impatient bunch.”

  The next morning, Janet lay in bed staring at her alarm clock thinking about Mick’s offer. She put her arm under her pillow and snuggled her body around it. If she took the job, she’d have some modicum of security, but what about Barney? She wasn’t keen on leaving him home all day alone in a crate, even for two days a week. Being her own boss she could take him along where ever she went.

  She looked down at the dog lying on the foot of her bed. As she wrestled with the decision, the phone on her nightstand rang. She rolled over and picked it up.

  “Skeeter, Dad! I missed calling you yesterday. Sorry ‘bout that.”

  She sat up and plumped the pillow under her back. “It’s okay. I figured something came up.”

  “No, just old age interfering with memory. Well, are we admitting to thirty?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, why not? So … how are you?”

  ”I’m fine. You get my card?”

  “I did.” She picked it off her nightstand. The picture on the front was of an old lady in a ridiculous hat. A black flimsy dress was hiked up to her knees. Inside, he had signed it just, ‘Dad.’

  “I thought it was a hoot.”

  “Right.” She grinned. She would have preferred a little more sentiment. But that was her father–always skimming the surface when it came to the mushy stuff.

  “So, you spend the day at the beach?”

  “No. Worked.”

  “On your birthday?”

  “Yep. Creditors don’t care about birthdays.”

  “I hear ya there.”

  Janet took a deep breath, and biting her lip, said, “Guess what? You remember the newspaper I consult with?”

  “The Weekly or something like that?”

  “It’s the Reporter. Anyway, they offered me a full-time job.”

  “Fantastic!” he said. “When do you start, and how much? It’s a salaried position, right?”

  “I haven’t accepted it yet.”

  “What’d’ya mean?” She heard him sigh on the other end. “Janet, it’s time to start living in the real world.”

  “I am living in the real world!”

  “Freelancing is not living in the real world, sweetie. You need job security, not to mention health insurance and a retirement plan, especially now with your aunt having passed away.”

  Janet closed her eyes wondering why she’d brought it up. Tightening her grip on the receiver, she said, “I wasn’t asking for an opinion, Dad! I was sharing.”

  “Well, this should be a slam dunk. But as usual you have to analyze everything to the ‘Nth’ degree. You know, by the time you make your mind up, this opportunity will be toast.”

  Janet’s chest tightened as she gritted her teeth. “Why do you always have to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Never mind! I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “You’re trying to run my life, Dad! Let’s just drop it, okay?”

  There was a long pause on the other end. Finally, he said, “Sure, whatever.”

  Her throat tightened.
“So, have you heard from my brother yet?”

  “Yeah. They’re back,” he said, brightening a bit. “Had a great time.”

  “It was nice seeing him. I wish I could get back east more often.”

  Her father was quiet again, then said, “So, why don’t you? We have room.”

  “Unfortunately, my schedule is–”

  “Yes, I know. Busy, busy.”

  “You could come out to me.”

  “You know, I don’t like planes.”

  Janet looked up at the ceiling, gritting her teeth. “Yeah, right. Well, I don’t want to keep you. Say Hi to Christine for me.”

  “Will do. Take care of yourself.”

  The phone went dead as Janet looked through the window stuffing yet another disappointment into her heart. Well, what did you expect?

  Fifteen minutes later, a stream of hot water pelted her back as she leaned against the shower wall. She pushed her hair off her shoulders and allowed the water to run through it down her back. Reaching behind her, she turned the hot water up another notch, and replayed the conversation she had had with her father over in her head. Why couldn’t he just listen for once? Why did he have run over her like a truck? Then again, he never listened to anyone, let alone her. The ironic thing was, the one time she really wanted him to stand up and say something; he didn’t. He let her mother take her away from him without a single word.

  Stepping out onto the tiled floor, she stared at the mist-streaked mirror throwing a distorted reflection back. Though she was used to her solitary life and her father’s ambivalence, she felt lost. She grabbed a towel, bound her hair, and went to her closet to pull out a pair of jeans and a sweater. But when she slid the closet door back, her gaze was drawn to the top shelf where a large box sat. She stared at it a moment, then reached up and took it down.

  Setting it on the bed, she pulled the lid off and looked inside. It had been a long time since she’d pawed through the past, digging up memories, and she wasn’t quite sure why she was doing it other than there was a compelling need to feel attached to something, someone, anything. She lifted out the cellophane-wrapped magazine on top and ran her finger over it. Peeling the wrapping away, she leafed through it until she came to a shot of Boiler Bay. It had been taken at high tide, and it was her first published photo.

  She studied it for a moment then set it down. Soon after, she was going through faded photos of family taken at camp years ago. She smiled down at the photos of Craig and her eating s’mores by the campfire and the shots of her father at the grill flipping burgers. But the ones of her father and her standing on the dock looking out over Lake Erie at dusk were the ones that burrowed into her heart. Even now, she could feel his bony fingers on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, wondering how they had grown so far apart.

  “I need to get out of here–get some air,” she muttered as she set the photos back in the box. Looking down at Barney, who was sitting at her feet, she took a deep breath. “Come on, we’re going for a ride!”

  The fields of tall rangy grasses and hawthorn stretching alongside the two-lane highway were in full bloom. She glanced at them now and again during the fifty-minute drive to Lincoln City. There she would hook up with Route 101 that skirted the coastline and head for Boiler Bay.

  The first forty miles passed quickly–the road straight and fairly level until it melted into the woods. There, it ran around winding curves with treacherous swales. She eased off the pedal as the ponderosa pine, hazelnut, and cypress marched past her window. The radio murmured. An hour later, she turned into the entrance of Fogarty State Park and parked in the tree lined deserted lot. Flipping the hood of her jacket over her head, she shut the car door, leashed Barney, and started down a winding trail to a broad underpass running under the highway.

  On the other side, she let the dog loose to run through the knots of windswept grasses lashing the sculpted, crescent dunes. Above her, gulls floated in the gray sky. A wafting scent of fish wrinkled her nose as she trudged out onto the hard-packed sand. Thirty yards ahead, the ocean pounded the beach, and its surging froth baited the barking dog. Janet watched the back and forth of the rushing water thinking of the job offer as Barney barked at the waves. As she watched him run back and forth, her father’s face flashed before her. Why couldn’t he let her talk instead of trying to fix her all the time?

  She shook her head, and continuing down the beach, saw a black form lying on the wet sand some ways ahead. She stared at it a moment before calling Barney to her. Leashing the dog, she moved forward cautiously until she saw it was a seal. As she approached the animal, she expected it to dart into the water. When it didn’t, she short-lined Barney and circled around it. Lifting its head, it opened its mouth and moved its flipper. The dog pulled on his leash, straining to get a sniff.

  “Stop Barney!” she commanded. To the seal, she said, “You all right, little guy?”

  The seal slapped the gritty sand with its tail, and as it did so, she saw a fresh gash on its flipper. It wasn’t a deep wound, and it would more than likely heal. Still, a silent battle waged inside her, and though she knew the code of conduct around a wild animal, she couldn’t help from wanting to put her arms around it.

  The dog whined as she battled her nurturing instincts. “Barney, behave,” she muttered as the seal closed its eyes and exhaled with a grunt. “Come, boy, we need to leave him be.” But as she stepped away from the animal, she didn’t like how she felt. She knew what it was like to be abandoned.

  3

  June 24, 1980 -

  A warm, sunny day with just a whiff of cloud kissed the rolling hills as Janet neared Salem’s city limits. Today, she would officially inherit her aunt’s cottage in Fogarty along with the cozy little bungalow a couple miles north of Route 99. She cranked the window down and turned the radio up, pondering why her aunt had never told her that her father’s name was on the cottage deed. Hopefully, there would be no more surprises. Barney stood on the passenger seat beside her with his nose wedged into the open window.

  “Enjoying the sights little man?” she said. The dog looked back at her, barked, and returned his attention to the passing buildings. Barb-b-q was in the air, and it roused a rumble in Janet’s empty stomach as she slowed for the exit to Northgate. A couple of miles later, she pulled into a sweeping horseshoe driveway and parked behind a line of cars.

  Janet opened the car door, and Barney jumped out as Megan pushed through a gated opening of a tall wooden fence. Megan’s son, Kyle, was in the woman’s arms.

  “There’s my Barney!” Megan said. She bent over and let Kyle run his chubby little fingers through the dog’s fur.

  “You didn’t tell me you had company,” Janet said.

  “You didn’t ask. Just family–no big deal.”

  Janet sighed. “You’re too much. You sure Barney’s not an imposition?”

  “Not at all,” Megan said, waving her hand. “Come on back. I’ll introduce you around.”

  “I’d love to, but I really need to get into town,” Janet said.

  “When’s your meeting?” Megan replied.

  Janet looked at her watch. “One-thirty.”

  Megan furrowed her brow. “You have oodles of time!”

  “But there’s parking and–”

  “You can take fifteen minutes,” Megan insisted. “Have you eaten?”

  “No … I mean, yes. Had a bite at Joey’s on the way in.”

  Megan eyed her dubiously. “Liar!”

  “Really, I did,” Janet insisted.

  “I don’t believe you,” Megan said. She gave her a look, Mick called, tank mode. “I’ll have Brad throw a burger on for you.”

  “You’re not taking, no, for an answer, are you?” Janet said, following Megan through the gate to a spacious back yard rimmed with tulips and daffodils. A kiddie pool huddled up next to a large deck. People milled about in small groups of three and fours, chatting amongst themselves.

  Megan dragged her over to a middle-aged couple standing
beside a picnic table. “This is Brad’s mom and dad, Tom and Theresa.”

  Janet smiled, shook hands, exchanged greetings as Kyle squirmed in Megan’s arms. Megan put him down and waved at her husband who was tending grill on the deck. “Hey Hon, throw a burger on for Jan?”

  He looked up, smiled, and opened the cooler lid beside his feet.

  To Brad’s parents, Megan said, “Janet freelances for the Reporter.”

  “Are you a writer?” Theresa asked.

  “She’s a photo journalist,” Megan replied, then reached out and tagged one of the little boys running around them chasing Barney. “Jimmy, slow down.”

  The red headed child came to a halt and looked up. Barney raced ahead toward the other children playing by the kiddie pool. Megan bent down next to the boy. “We need to be careful, honey.” She tousled his hair. “Can you do me a favor? Bring a soda for our guest?” After Jimmy flew off, Megan turned to Brad. “You see my father?”

  “Went inside a little while back,” Brad said, nodding toward the sliding glass door. “Think he’s watching the ball game.”

  Megan frowned. “He better not be!” She stalked up the stairs onto the deck, slid the screen door back, and went inside. A moment later, she returned. “He’ll be right out.”

  “Meg, it’s okay,” Janet protested then froze as a tall burly man in jeans stepped outside behind Megan. He ran his thick fingers through his red hair and stared at her.

  As Janet stood in shocked silence, he said, “I’ll be. Janet, right?”

  “Yeah … You’re Megan’s father?” Janet uttered, dumbfounded. She glanced at Megan. Saw the surprise in her friend’s eyes then looked back at him.

  Megan pulled her jaw up from the ground. “You two know each other?”

  Her father put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her tight to him. “That we do, pumpkin.” To Janet, he said, “She’s my baby.”

  Megan shook her head. “How?”

  He laughed. “Met on a stretch of nasty highway.” He put out his hand to Janet. “So, this is where you live when you’re not traipsing around back east.”