by Ed Helenski
It was nearly four when I had another visitor, someone I hadn’t met before. She came into the office and stood at the doorway. The street was ablaze with orange light from the setting sun, and her curly brown hair hung about her shoulders like a halo. She stepped towards me and I was struck by the bluest eyes I have ever seen. For a moment I was struck dumb, it was the first time I had felt tongue tied by a woman since my teenage years. Finally, I stood and introduced myself.
“Hi, Tom Tharon. What can I do for you?” I was smiling broadly. She was gorgeous, in her thirties I would judge, with a mane of chestnut locks, the blue eyes I already mentioned. Petite, no more than five-three, perhaps a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. She smiled back revealing white even teeth, and her eyes sparkled. She had dimples. I was smitten.
“Pleased to meet you Tom Tharon. I’m Marjorie Cowell. My friends call me Maggie. I hope you will, too.” She giggled a little at that, almost as if she hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud. She was beaming at me, and for the first time in my forty years I thought that a woman was feeling the same sort of eagerness that I was. She was just so damned cute. Dressed in a powder blue wool coat over what appeared to be a blue dress with a fitted bodice and full skirts. I had never believed in love at first sight, but was being rapidly converted.
Realizing I was just standing there looking at her, I offered her a seat. She sat down and got right to business. “I have been wanting to get over here. First of all to welcome you to the town. Or should I say BACK to the town. You have made quite a stir here, Tom.” From someone else I might have been a little intimidated by such a comment, but the smile in her eyes and on her lips disarmed me completely.
I laughed. “I guess maybe I have. But it’s worth it for a welcome from you.” I actually blushed at that point. I have been with sophisticated women, but their cool gazes never fazed me like the simple, open expression on Maggie’s face. “What I mean to say is I find the niceties outweigh the, uh, grumpiness.”
Impossible as it seems, the smile on her face grew a tad brighter. “I am glad you think of me as one of the niceties. I hope you still do after I am finished enlisting your help.”
“Help? You mean you have an ulterior motive for this welcome visit? I am shocked and outraged. Actually, one thing I have learned about this town is that in one respect it is no different from the city. Most everyone wants something, whether they go about getting it in a nice or a grumpy way. I think the real difference lies in what a person wants, and why they want it.”
Maggie looked at me for a moment without speaking. Finally she said, “You are an interesting man, Tom Tharon. When I first heard about you, I had a very different view of what you would be like. I’m glad I decided to form my own opinion. I think I am going to like you.”
This time I was definitely blushing. “Well, gee, I do believe I like you too, Marjorie.”
I was on the verge of asking her for a date when she spoke again.
“Call me Maggie. I am certain we are going to be great friends. And what I have to ask isn’t so much, really. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten here sooner, but I have been teaching in Siegly the past couple weeks. I’m a sub. But I am off for a few days. So I am here to plead my case.” She got a flyer out of her coat pocket and handed it to me. “This is what I am working on.”
I unfolded the sheet and saw it was about a book drive to start a town library. “The Library Project, huh? A worthy cause. I always hated having to go to the high school library when I lived here.”
Maggie nodded. “I agree. A library is an essential, even if it is a small one. I made a deal with the Vickers for a vacant storefront over on Cleveland behind the doctor’s office. If I can get 20,000 volumes they will let me use the space free of rent. Providing I call it the Vickers’ Free Library. Like you say, everyone wants something.”
I had crates of books that I had yet to unpack. Like most people who write for a living I love reading, but in Hartford I rarely had the time. It would be no great hardship to borrow them back when I wanted to read. “I have, oh, probably two or three thousand books you can have Maggie. They are at my house right now.”
Maggie’s jaw dropped. On impulse I reached over and closed her mouth gently. “Wow. That’s a lot of books. Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Would you be impressed if I did?” I was unable to conceal my interest in this woman.
She winked at me. “Oh very impressed. That’s not what I came to ask for, though. Now I feel a little guilty pressing my luck.”
“Press, press.”
“Well, I wanted to ask for two favors. One, can you publicize the book drive as much as possible? I want to reach people all over the area. I have about 3500 books now, but that’s a long way from 20,000. I think Amy Vickers pulled that number out of a hat because she thought it would be impossible.”
“Sure, I would be glad to help. What’s the second?”
“Well, I notice you have a whole storeroom in back that you don’t seem to be using at present. Can I use it as a depot to keep the books for now? I’m keeping them at my place, and it’s not going to work much longer.”
”Hmmmm” I said stroking my chin and pretending to consider, “Would you be coming in and out at odd hours bringing more books?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Well then, you have yourself a deal. On one condition.”
“Condition huh? Do I have to name something after you?”
“No, just have dinner with me.”
Maggie looked surprised, but also pleased. At least I hope she did. “Oh, the sacrifices I make. How about next week sometime?”
“Really? You will go with me?”
“Well, sure. Didn’t you know, Tom Tharon? You are the newest and most eligible bachelor in The Corners.”
Before I could say anything foolish to spoil the moment, the door banged open and Reverend Doland stepped in. “Tom I have….Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Hello, Reverend”,Maggie said brightly. “I was just finishing anyway. Thank you so much, Tom, for your kind offer. Why don’t you call me tomorrow and we can work out the details. My number is on the flyer I gave you.” She briefly touched his hand with hers, and then turned and walked out, pausing to nod to Doland.
As soon as she was out the door the Reverend spoke. “I don’t much like this Tom. I have to tell you, I feel like you misled me. And I am going to have to do something about it.” My heart began to pound. He had found out about my being at his house. I just hoped he didn’t keep guns. Ministers didn’t shoot people, did they?
“It was not what you think, Reverend. It was just a ….” I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
“It is exactly what I think. I can feel the knife in my back, Tom. Don’t you think I know a rebuke when I read one? Here I was telling you how much of a backwater this town is and you sat there agreeing. Then I read your column and you sound like we live on Walton’s Mountain and you are John-boy. Were you just doing it to mock me?”
Relief flooded over me. He was just mad because I wasn’t a snob like him. “Reverend, I think you sell this town short. But I certainly never mentioned your ideas in the paper, and whatever you perceive as being there is only known to you. I think there is room for diverging opinions in this town.”
“Oh yes, indeed. You make your way to the church this Sunday and you will hear all about diverging opinions.” With that he turned on his heels to leave. He stopped and took a sheaf of papers out of his pocket. “These are the things for this week’s issue.” He tossed them on my desk and without so much as a thank you he left.
I was thanking my lucky stars that the Rev was so oblivious when a noise behind me startled me. Meg was standing in the doorway to the back room. “Little pitchers have big ears. You ever hear that one?”
“Jesus, you scared me Meg. How long have you been back there?”
Meg smiled. “A long while. I listen well. And I discovered people don’t really see
kids much. We can hear a lot.” She stepped closer to me, her voice getting softer. “Maggie is real nice, Mr. Tharon. You should forget about that Sarah Jacobs. She’s trouble. My mom says she makes her living on her back. I think she’s talking about her working out at Dewey’s. You know, like Shawnte' from over on Vine? A Lady of the Evening?”
I was aghast at what I was hearing. Sarah, a prostitute? I was mighty glad I had worn a condom. Now I wish I had worn three.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Tharon. We all make mistakes.” She made her way to the front and was about to leave when she turned back around. “ I would stay away from the Doland’s if I were you. I don’t think the Reverend likes you. And I KNOW his wife does. She is real trouble.” With that she left. I stood, staring at the door, wondering who would come through it next.
Around The Corner Wednesday, October 4
I am happy to report more additions to our Gazette this week. We have news from the church bulletin thanks to Reverend Doland. So now you won’t have to miss a single pot luck supper, and will know when to wear that extra pretty Sunday dress because of a visiting preacher. The church is certainly lucky to have such a well-versed and urbane young man as its pastor.
I have received a number of pleasant and positive comments about our Youth Beat. Meg Dunway is doing a splendid job and is turning out to be a real journalist. The girl has a nose for news, and I think she is really going to be going places.
In my time back in The Corners I have found everything I need right here in town. I have enjoyed many meals here, at the Dinor, at my own home, and at the homes of friends. There is always a neighbor around to chat with on a warm afternoon, and a smile from everyone who passes on the street. I have whet my whistle and should no doubt make my way to the barber’s very soon. In short, everything a man could need is right here in front of me. And I have certainly found people friendly, more friendly than I ever imagined.
One of these friendly people has made me aware of a serious lack in our town, though. I’m talking about Marjorie Cowell, our substitute teacher. She is certainly an outgoing and hard working person. And she has enlisted my help in her quest to found a library here in Squid Corners. I have donated my personal collection to her drive, and I ask you to do the same. Books are made to be shared, and what better way than with a town library?
With that in mind, I am offering the use of the Gazette offices as a drop off point for books. Feel free to bring them down any time, and we will add them to the growing collection. We have a good start, but there is a long way to go. (And by the way, Maggie agreeing to have dinner with me in no way influenced my offer!)
It seems to me that the town I have come back to is much like a Hollywood movie set. As I have spent my days getting to know some of you, I have learned not to judge a book by its cover. Not everything is as it appears; not everyone is who they seem to be. Many people play one role, but in reality live another. As I peel the layers off this town like one peels an onion; I find each layer just hides the one beneath. There is always more to see.
I don’t mean to imply that people are being deceptive. Of course, there is some deceit, this is a town not a monastery. But what I really have discovered is that there is great depth here. On the surface a person might seem to be something very simple, let’s say a teacher. But underneath I might discover a lover of history. And beneath that a romantic. Beneath that a lover. Beneath that? Who knows. But I surely intend to find out. It is in my nature as a reporter to find out what is under the surface.
The surface of The Corners is smooth and unrippled. But there are currents underneath. Some strong. Some weak. Forces at play. I can feel them. I can catch glimpses of them. And with time, I will uncover them. The good ones. The bad ones. The beautiful and the ugly. They are all part of who we are. It is my job to explore them. To help us, as a community, define who we are.
Tom Tharon.
Chapter 6
Last week’s column certainly raised a few eyebrows, though not in the same way as the first couple did. Some of my inside jokes ended up being a bit more “outside” than I had intended. Such is life in a small town. Some eyes see everything that goes on, and it is only a matter of WHO holds your secrets rather than IF anyone does.
I had a wonderful time with Maggie, but before I wax eloquent on my love life I must first put down the events of last night’s poker game. Bobby had invited me to his house, where apparently it was his turn to host a monthly smoker. He had insisted I attend despite my lack of acumen at cards, saying it was part of the initiation into men’s life in town. I understood that life here was different, and gender specific activities the norm.
I arrived at Bobby’s house to find the car had been removed from the garage and a table and chairs set up in its place. Despite the chill temperatures of October apparently Susie’s tolerance for cigars and crudity only extended as far as the door. There was a tub filled with ice and cans of Miller, a couple bags of chips and pretzels, and a quartz heater to provide a little warmth in the cement nightclub. By the time we started Bobby and I had been joined by Doctor Tastler, Jack Buckley, Tommy Slicdale, Jeremy Solereski, and Reggie. I was a little surprised to see our constable at the game, but I guess penny ante poker is a bit below the law's radar. The attendance apparently varied, sometimes including Chancy, Shickley, and some of the other old timers as well.
It wasn’t long before someone brought up women, and Yolanda Doland became the topic of conversation. Jeremy, whom I didn’t know, was particularly vociferous in his appreciation for the Reverend’s wife. “I swear that girl has tits that can talk. She is always wearing them tiny little tee shirts and her ass hanging out of her shorts. Looks to me like the Reverend is in over his head with that one.”
Tommy Slicdale, the local mailman, added “Well now, I have had to make quite a few SPECIAL DELIVERIES to Yolanda, and she always does tip real good.” Everyone laughed at that one; Tommy is reputed to make a number of special deliveries on his route, sort of a postal gigolo. “Seems like winter or summer that girl wears as little as she can. One time I swear she came to the door with no pants on at all. Of course I am not one to kiss and tell.”
I could see Bobby giving him a dirty look. It occurred to me that Bobby was the only married one at the game, and perhaps he worried that the mailman was making deliveries to his house too. Or maybe he had noticed his son eavesdropping through the doorway and wanted the conversation to clean up. Mike had eyed us all nervously as we arrived, and seemed to be keeping watch on us. Perhaps he just wanted to join in with the men, but it seems to be more like he was waiting for something to happen, or someone to arrive. Or maybe he just wanted to steal a beer.
Jack Buckley was the one who said what everyone no doubt already knew. “Looks like Tom here got initiated into the town’s least exclusive club this week.”
“You mean cuz he porked Sarah Jacobs?” Slicdale asked, drawing a very hostile look from Jeremy. I winced at my personal life being dragged out like that, and wished I could vanish into the cold night.
“Naw,” said Buckley, “I mean he paid a little visit to our dear Yolanda and got an eyeful…at the very least.”
“What did you mean with that crack about Sarah?” Jeremy said starting to stand, but he was pushed back down in his seat by Reggie. When Reggie pushed, you paid attention.
“Just you sit down now, boy. Nobody is besmirching your dear Sarah. I believe the point was Yolanda’s itchy pants.” He turned to me. “Don’t let em fool you, Tom, they are all just jealous because she didn’t waste any time offering you her…uh, goodies, and that’s a fact.”
“Looks like the Reverend can’t keep his woman satisfied” chimed in Tastler.
“How could he,” Jeremy added, “Ain’t those reverends more the little boy type?”
“You are thinking of priests,” Tastler said, ”They take a vow of celibacy, so it’s just natural they would turn to a little beginner’s backdoor now isn’t it?” I was nurturing a growing dislike for our doctor.
“I think we came to play poker, not to talk filth,” Bobby nearly shouted, making everyone get quiet. He looked a little embarrassed but brazened it out. “Just don’t want that kind of talk going on with the boy in the next room.” At this the shadow that was Mike appeared to start, and receded into the house.
Everyone murmured assent and the game got underway. As the tub got emptier, the talk got looser once again. Several comments were made about Buckley’s exploits which prompted him to comment “At least I get my women with my wits and not my wallet. How much is Shawnte charging these days, Jeremy?”
Once again Jeremy tried to get up, and Reggie had to exert his influence via a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t let ‘em get to you son, you aren’t the first one to pay for it.”
“I don’t pay for it. And I sure don’t pay for it from some nigger.”
Tastler looked annoyed. “No need for that kind of talk. Where do you think you are, Alabama? Besides, the way I hear it you don’t have to pay for Shawnte if your taste runs to white meat.” I could see Reggie shooting a warning glance at Tastler, but to no avail. “Word is Sarah Jacobs will polish your knob for twenty bucks if that’s your preference”.
This time Reggie wasn’t quite quick enough, and Jeremy launched himself at Tastler, pummeling him with his fists. “Take that back you fucker. Take it back. Sarah ain’t like that and you know it!” I was aghast. I sure as hell hoped she wasn’t like that, but having heard it more than once I suspected it was true. Reggie and Bobby were holding Jeremy back as Tastler took a swig of beer. Tastler had a look on his face I didn’t much care for.
“Jeremy you ought to think before you swing. After all, who do you think does the blood tests in this town? And gives out the penicillin shots?” I was feeling a little sickened by now, both from the nasty streaks being shown, and from the idea that I had been with Sarah.
Jeremy struggled, but the two men held him tight. “Well, we know YOU aren’t bothering any women around here. That Janice is throwing herself at you, and you just act like she is invisible. She missing some vital equipment, doc? Like maybe she doesn’t have enough DICK for your taste? And how do you know so much about pedophiles anyway? You got a taste for little boys, DOC?” With that Bobby let go of Jeremy and swung at him, catching him right in the nose. Blood flew. Reggie now held the two men apart.