Argosy Junction

by Chautona Havig

  Matt ignored Lane’s quizzical looks and led them from the building, around the corner, and to the subway station. Patience passed out her cards the whole way there. One woman tried to inveigle a second card from the little girl, but Matt intervened. “No. Come on, Patience.”

  The woman screamed obscenities after them, but Matt just ushered his guests down the escalators and onto the platform. “The next subway comes through in six minutes. Stay away from those people there and there. The rest are fine. It’s early yet.”

  As Patience passed out cards to everyone around her, Lane asked about the woman. “Why didn’t you let her have one for her friend?”

  “It’s rarely for a friend and if she shows up with a friend, they’ll usually let the friend in without a card. The street people use them for bartering. They’re like gold out here. Two full meals, a bed, a shower— that’s worth a lot to most of these people.”

  “Ugh. How sad to be reduced to selling charity.”

  Matt hadn’t thought of it that way, but the trains rolled in causing him to call Patience to their side. “Too many people getting on and off. We can’t see you.”

  “I gave one to everyone anyway. Those guys by the bathrooms laughed at me and told me to go away.”

  Matt saw them and cringed. They must have exited the bathroom just as Patience got close. “That’s good that they didn’t take them. They don’t need them.”

  “They need clothes that fit like the boy at the park. Their pants are falling off too.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Carol and Jake were enchanted with Patience. She told them about her adventures in the city, about their trip from Montana, and about Matt’s days on the ranch. Her animated speech patterns and her frank commentaries were different from anything the Rushbys had ever encountered.

  At first, Matt was very self-conscious having Lane in their apartment. The five-room flat wasn’t even twice the size of Lane’s suite at the Towers. The stairwells were dingy and battered with age and careless maintenance. They’d walked the three blocks to his house from the subway in relative silence.

  Matt watched Lane take in his world slowly and cautiously. Had he exaggerated? Kids loitered around streetlights and shouted insults to other kids cloistered around other streetlights. Old men shuffled along the sidewalk and clutched their brown bag covered bottles, as though expecting someone to snatch it at any moment. Mothers yelled at their children from apartment windows and most of the kids shouted back or ignored them. Music, or what passed for it in that neighborhood, blared from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

  His parents were friendly hosts, and he could see that Lane liked them, but they were different from anyone she’d ever met. He compared his home to hers and found it wanting. From cluttered shelves of knickknacks that seemed to do little more than cover empty spaces, to the continual drone of an unwatched TV set, the life of Jake and Carol Rushby was diametrically opposed to the life of the Argosy family. As he watched her, he saw that Lane finally realized that Matt fit in that difference.

  Jake grilled burgers on a hibachi on the balcony while Carol mixed a boxed pasta salad in the kitchen. Matt and Patience played video games, and Lane tried to help Matt’s mom, but since there was nothing for her to do, she watched. He didn’t know if he should leave Patience to play alone or let Lane get comfortable without his help—if she would get comfortable.

  “So Lane, have you always lived on a sheep ranch?”

  Carol worked hard to make Lane feel at home. She asked questions, listened to stories, and told tales about Matt’s childhood. His mom was trying too hard. Matt heard the strained tones in both women’s voices and left Patience battling the dragons alone.

  “You know what you two women have in common?” Matt popped an olive in his mouth while he waited before answering his rhetorical question. “You both hate Shakespeare.”

  “Not when you read it.”

  Both women laughed. Something about the unified response broke down the invisible barrier between Montana’s countryside and Rockland’s inner city. Lane snatched an olive and glanced at Carol who instantly read her mind. Matt dodged flying olives until he eventually caved. “Uncle, already!”

  Lane eyed Carol with a look of relief on her face. “I didn’t think he’d give in before we ran out of olives, but there are two left!”

  Carol picked one up as though she intended to eat it and then lobbed it at Matt’s retreating back. She missed. Lane grabbed the last one and zinged it at Matt’s head. He swatted his ear as it whacked it and then stared at the olive on the floor.

  “You cheat! You little—”

  Lane hid behind his mother and begged for forgiveness. Something in her tone told Matt that she wasn’t as serious as she tried to make him believe. However, before any of them could plot retribution, Jake came in carrying a plate of burgers and stepped on an olive squishing it into the carpeting as he walked.

  “What the—what is an olive doing on the floor? Hey, there are—Carol! We have company!”

  Lane peeked around from behind Carol and pointed to Matt. “He started it!”

  Jake growled good-naturedly and demanded that Carol and Matt clean up the mess. He winked at Lane and told her she was lucky she was a guest, sending Lane into an uncharacteristic fit of giggles. Before Lane could respond, her cell phone rang.

  “Oh, it’s my father. He’s probably giving me his flight info for tomorrow. I’ll be right back. Go ahead and eat. Please.”

  Matt made Patience a plate of food and took it to her seat in front of the TV. “Eat up Ima.”

  Several minutes later, Lane punched the TV off and handed Patience the phone. “It’s Daddy.”

  “You ruined my game!”

  “Patience! Daddy is on the phone, it’s dinner time, the game is over. When you’re done talking, come to the table.”

  Patience seemed to snap to attention and realize her surroundings.” Daddy? Oh, the phone. Hey, who brought me food?”

  Lane rolled her eyes and sat back at the table. Matt noticed a change in her, but kept silent. Something was up, and she’d tell him when she was ready. Meanwhile, he preferred to eat his hamburgers hot, so he focused on his burger and pasta salad.

  After the meal was over, Lane insisted on doing the dishes. Carol tried to argue, and she put up quite a fuss, but eventually Matt said, “Mom, I think it’s just what people do in Montana. She’s trying to say thank you, and I think we have to let her. I’ll help.”

  “Can we take Patience down to the fried ice cream shack?”

  Lane raised an eyebrow at the idea of fried ice cream, but nodded. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

  Patience raced to the door and jabbered all the way down the hall and stairs until Lane and Matt couldn’t hear her anymore. Matt watched Lane absently scrape plates into the trash, rinse them, and then stack them for washing. As the sink filled with water, he noticed the same odd look on her face that she’d had earlier.

  He turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands. Pulling her from the kitchen, he pushed her gently onto the couch and sat opposite her, facing her. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Well nothing’s wrong actually; it’s just a mix up.”

  “Okay—what kind of mix up?” He hated that the dread he felt was audible.

  Lane shook her head. “No really, it’s no big deal. I came a week early. Daddy won’t be here until next Sunday and then the convention is that week. He’s bringing Tad too.”

  “You’re staying another week?”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t know. Daddy said I could, but he also said that if I wanted to come home I could just drive back whenever I wanted. I think Mom misses Patience, and three weeks away from her mother the first time she leaves home is a long time.” She paused calculating in her head. “A little over three weeks, actually.

  Matt knew the disappointment he felt showed. At first, he couldn’t believe the news that they might be another week in Rockland. Howeve
r, Patience made the proposition impossible.

  “Is there any way—nah. Never mind. So when will you go back?”

  “Anyway what? You don’t think I want to go back do you? When Daddy said the dates were off, I thought it was like vacation savings time. Roll back time and get a free week, but then I thought about Patience. Daddy says she’ll be okay, but—”

  Matt played with a loose thread on the couch and nodded as she spoke. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Frustrated, he jerked the thread and watched with satisfaction as it snapped free from the cushion.

  Lane leaned toward him trying to read his face. He looked up again, schooling his features into understanding and agreement, while fighting the desire to ask her to stay anyway. “You don’t want me to go. That’s a nice feeling.”

  Her hair snagged on the back cushion of the couch reminding him of the previous night. He coiled it around his finger once more and smiled at her. “It’s selfish of me, and I know you have to, but no, I don’t want you to go. I was content with just next week, but now knowing it could have been two more makes one week like both a lifetime and a split second at the same time.”

  She tugged at her hair. “I need to go do those dishes, Matt.”

  Matt, however, didn’t let go. He tugged her closer until their eyes were a few short inches apart. “I know you have to go, but if I can think of a way—” Not knowing how to finish his thought, Matt kissed her nose and uncoiled her hair from his hand.

  He stood, offering her the same hand and helped her from the couch. Something about his actions seemed to confuse her, but Matt chose to ignore it. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a dishcloth, soaked it, wrung it out, and started to wipe down the table.

  Several seconds ticked by, before Matt realized that Lane hadn’t followed. She stood, where he’d left her, arms crossed, and looking seriously perturbed. Flinging the dirty dishcloth into the sink, he retraced his steps and stood before her.

  “What?”

  “I so want to slap you.” The edge to Lane’s voice was something he’d only heard when she spoke of Josiah Gideon or certain members of the Brethren.

  “Hey, hey—” His tones were intended to be soothing, but Lane’s fists clenched at her sides as she glared at him. “What?” Matt’s voice grew exasperated. “I get it, you’re ticked. Care to tell me why?”

  Her chocolate eyes seemed to boil over with anger and to his astonishment, humiliation. “Are you attracted to me?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Well, yeah.” His tone made the answer sound more like, “Well duh!”

  “Since when?” Her voice didn’t cool as he’d expected. She seemed, if anything, angrier.

  “Since you handed me a roll of toilet paper and told me not to leave it to decorate the Montana prairie.”

  “Do not mock me. Did you ever intend to tell me this?”

  Now Matt was thoroughly confused. He’d assumed she was angry about his apparent affection, but now she seemed annoyed that he hadn’t announced it. “Well, sure, but—”

  “When? Why didn’t you say anything when you were in Montana? You were at our home for a week. I saw you for three meals a day, a ride in the evening… We took walks and talked, Matt. You didn’t even hint…”

  “What could I say, Lane? How would you have felt if I said, ‘Oh, by the way, I think you’re an amazing girl and I’m really attracted to you. Gotta go home now, bye?’”

  “I don’t know, but it would have felt a lot better than sitting here wondering why you’re suddenly so flirty now that I’m on your turf.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, but Matt knew instinctively that Lane’s tears were primarily caused by her anger.

  “Oh Lane—I—I’m sorry. Oh man, you must feel—”

  “Cheap? Used? Disposable? That about sums it up for me.”

  Matt left the room. He disappeared behind another door and emerged carrying a packet of envelopes. Handing the envelopes to her, he pulled out his phone. He held it ready while he flipped quickly through a phone book. While Lane stared at the envelopes in her hand, Matt punched a phone number into the handset.

  “Read them. They’re in order. I saved them because I thought maybe someday I could share them with you. I never thoug—Hey, Ramon. This is Matt. Are my parents in there with a little girl? Oh, good. Can you tell them I called and ask them to take her bowling for a while? Tell them I need a couple of hours. Thanks.”

  Matt waved Lane back into the couch and went to wash the dishes. “I’ll wash, you read. Then we’ll talk.” He took a couple of steps and paused. “Lane, I didn’t intend, when I wrote them anyway, for you to read those. They’re—” He stumbled, looking for the right words. “Well, they’re very personal.

  Lane sat and pulled the rubber band from around the package of unsealed envelopes. The envelopes weren’t addressed, but were numbered sequentially in the corner where the stamp should go. As she unfolded the first envelope, Matt tried to remember what the first one was. That first night at the ranch, you dope, he growled to himself.

  Dishes rattled as Matt scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked in the drainer. Lane read. He took the trash out wiped the counters, and Lane read. He put food away, set up the coffee maker for the morning and Lane continued to read, sometimes retracing her steps and reading some several times.

  He stood behind her reading over her shoulder trying to imagine her reaction to different parts of each letter. Unconsciously, he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. Just as he thought perhaps, she understood and things would be okay, she spoke.

  “You’re a Christian! “It wasn’t a statement; it was an accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Christian?”

  “Because, according to your definition of a Christian, I am not.”

  “What?”

  Matt knew his response wasn’t what she expected. “You defined Christians as people who believe and behave like the Brethren. I don’t.”

  “Don’t which? Believe or behave?”

  Matt’s bent low to answer her. “Neither. I don’t believe like them, and I pray I don’t behave like them. They’re a cult Lane. They’re not Christianity.”

  “I’m not on speaking terms with God.” She stood, jerking her hair from his hands and yelping in pain. “Yikes!”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d—”

  “I did. I just didn’t think it’d hurt.”

  Matt moved around the couch and took the sheets of paper from Lane. “Can you set aside my faith for a minute? We can talk about that later. Okay? Did you read them all?”

  “You took them away from me, I wasn’t finished.” Her voice did sound calmer and somewhat forgiving. Matt was encouraged.

  Without a word, he handed them back and sat beside her as she read. He watched as her face changed expressions with each paragraph. She read letters like Patience watched movies.

  “Stop it.”

  He twirled her hair around his hand lazily and retorted, “Stop what?”

  “Watching me. And what’s with the hair anyway?”

  He allowed the hair to uncurl from his finger and then brushed the strands back behind her ear. “It’s just so beautiful and silky and—”

  “I get it.” She went back to reading, obviously embarrassed by the attention.

  “Your ears aren’t pierced. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone over twelve who didn’t have pierced ears.”

  She turned and looked at him closely. “You don’t.”

  “Girls then. Although, a lot of guys have pierced ears. This one was pierced a long time ago.” Matt showed her the closed hole.

  “You pierced your ear? Why?”

  “I was sixteen, and it seemed cool. It got infected and swelled up like a gumball. I decided being cool wasn’t worth it.”

  Lane nodded. “It never occurred to me that I could have pierced ears. The Brethren don’t like it of course. I just—I want to get mine pierced. How do I do that?”

  “R
ead your letters.”

  Her eyes went back to the pages in front of her and then to Matt’s eyes. “My letters? I can keep them?”

  “If you want them.”

  She methodically returned each one to its envelope and wrapped the rubber band back around it. “I’ll read them later then. So you didn’t say anything because you were going home and you thought it wasn’t right to play with my affections when it couldn’t go anywhere?”

  “Sort of. I didn’t know you well enough. I had no way of knowing if you’d ever write me, if we’d continue to talk, or if you’d ever want to see me again. What if I got back here and realized that I wasn’t as interested in you as I thought, but I’d already said something? Of course, then there was the location issue—”

  “Location. What do you mean?” Trepidation filled Lane’s voice. She knew what he meant.

  “You live on a ranch in Montana. You love it there. You have a close family that you’d miss terribly if you ever left.”

  “And you’d never leave Rockland.” Her voice held a disappointed finality that Matt found strangely encouraging.

  “Not exactly. I don’t know. I’d never thought about leaving until I met you. Until I spent a week on your ranch, worked with those animals, and saw that other world, I’d never imagined any life but mine. If it didn’t mean leaving my parents alone, I might have asked your dad for a job already. If it didn’t mean leaving ten years with the union in a job that has advancement opportunities, I probably would have.”

  Lane started to reply, but Matt took her hand toying with her fingers. He remembered her frustration and let it fall back into her own lap. “Sorry. I forgot that irritated you.”

  “It’s not that—or even the flirting. It’s that they came from out of nowhere and almost the minute I arrived. I didn’t notice at first, but it’s just so strange—”

  Instinctively, Matt reached for a strand of hair and quickly pulled back. “I see what you mean. I didn’t just decide to take advantage of you. I—I was so conscious of your presence when I was in Montana. Every second I was with you, I was on alert. I never let my guard down. Not once. Once I got home and I still—I—well—you read the letters or part of them.” He paused searching for words. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that when I was there I just didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I wanted to be— It sounds so stupid now.”