Squid Corners

by Ed Helenski

  Conversation was light and pleasant. I didn’t know a lot of the people who came up, but the food was good and the atmosphere was really nice. Family. Made me wish I had had one. At one point Tim insisted that Maggie tell me the story of her baby chicks. She demurred, looking embarrassed, and her Dad started the story.

  “One Easter, we got Marjorie a half dozen little chicks. Peeps we used to call ‘em. And she loved those birds. They would follow her around outside.” Maggie was looking more and more red. “Anyway, this was when she was perhaps four. She was out with her peeps when it started to rain. And she got it in her head that she had to keep the peeps dry.”

  Maggie interrupted. “I didn’t want them to drown. Don’t ask me where the idea came from, but I got real worried they would drown.”

  “So” her Dad continued, “She comes inside a few minutes after the rain starts and sees her mother. Sher asks her, where are your peeps? And Marjorie says…”

  “Maggie says, I covered them up so they wouldn’t drown.” Tim chimed in, everyone having a hard time telling the story while laughing.

  “I wanted them to be dry. So I dug a hole and put them in. Then I covered them up. I remember patting down the dirt and thinking ‘There, that will keep them from drowning.”

  “It did of course.” Her dad added. “Sher went out and finds this hole and tries to dig the chicks out. They were not at all well. It’s awful really, but it is just so funny.”

  I laughed despite what the animal cruelty folks might say, and despite the lashing I would get from Mags later. And with the sharing of that story I felt even more a part of this family. It was a good feeling. After dinner, while everyone was dozing in the living room, Mags and I helped Kat load the dishwasher. Then Mags said “I’m gonna show Tom my old room. Run interference for me, will you Kat?” Kathy winked at her. I wondered what was up.

  Maggie took me upstairs to a room with a frilly twin bed, a child’s desk, and shelf after shelf of lovely dolls. “My mom got me all those. She loved dolls. She let me play with them, even though they were valuable, but somehow I knew what they meant to her. I was always careful. Now, my Mrs. Beasley doll I carried around everywhere. Eventually it got so dirty it looked like the black Mrs. Beasley.” She walked over to the door and closed it. She thumbed the lock. “This is my room. Wanna play high school?” She walked over to me and placed her finger over my lips. “We have to be very quiet, my Dad is down in the living room. He would kill me if he knew I had a boy up here.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me sweetly. My arms went around her. I felt her fingers undoing my belt. Clothes fell to the floor as we kissed and undressed each other. For some reason the simple act of unclasping her bra in this room was made new and exciting. It must be the memories of forbidden sex from my high school days. The danger of ever watchful parents and the new ground of unexplored flesh. I was instantly hard.

  We kissed and touched and then Mags pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top. She seemed to do this to me a lot. And I wasn’t complaining one bit. When I felt her slide down onto me I moaned out loud and she shushed me with kisses. “Quiet , Tom, we don’t want to get caught, now do we? You will be grounded. Then when will we get to make love?” She kept kissing me as she talked, little kisses all over my face, all the while sliding herself slowly up and down on me, her hips moving in an age-old rhythm.

  Our movements were controlled, in order to minimize the squeaking of the bedframe, but eager and passionate. We kept kissing the whole time, tasting each other’s mouths and tongue. Maggie was a great kisser. I have kissed her more than all the other women I have known combined. And I haven’t had nearly enough. As our kisses grew deeper our motions grew more frantic. The bed began to squeak and neither of us could restrain ourselves. As we approached the point of no return our moans were muffled in each other’s mouths. Finally I exploded inside her, shooting jets into her as she cried out her own orgasm. As we lay together afterwards I told Mags over and over how much I loved her. She was quiet, and smiling, and had that sweaty glow of good love.

  I thought of what I had said in the kitchen to Kat, and thought I might as well speak my mind. “Mags? You know I am in love with you.” She nodded. Her hands played in the hairs on my chest as I talked. “Have you ever thought about…about more? About being with me all the time?”

  Maggie giggled. “That is the most obtuse proposal I have ever heard. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Not some proposition to live in sin, ‘cause we mostly do that already.”

  I swallowed and nodded. I hadn’t planned this at all. I didn’t even have a ring. She went on.

  “I am very much in love with you, Tom. But I think this has been a pretty stressful time for you. For both of us. Ask me again in a couple months, if you still want to. And my answer will be yes.” She kissed me again, deeply and slowly. I think we would have gotten started all over again, but just then we heard the front door slam and the sounds of the girls running up the stairs. Kat must have taken them out to play. Running interference. We got up and hastily dressed, feeling even more like high school kids.

  The rest of the day passed pleasantly, with pie and coffee and talk of childhood. I can honestly say that for a few hours I forgot the mess going on in The Corners. The drive back home was quiet and happy. Mags and I had reached a new level, and it felt great.

  It was on Friday that I went to say goodbye to Bobby. I went by their house in the morning hoping to catch them still there. I rang the bell, and when the door opened I was greeted by a haggard version of Susie. Her eyes were red, the kind of red only crying for days can make them, and she wore no makeup. She was dressed in rumpled sweats, and I don’t think I had ever seen her this unraveled. When she saw it was me her face contorted into a grimace. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up here.” What she did next caught me completely by surprise. She reared back and then spit a big gob right into my face. The door slammed.

  As I stood there wiping it off the door flew open again. This time it was Bobby. He was on the steps and in my face in a second. “What the fuck do YOU want here?” he screamed. His face was angry, red, and it seemed like he was a bit drunk. “Haven’t you ruined my life enough?” He was pushing me, and I nearly fell backing down the steps.

  “Bobby” I began, but he cut me off.

  “Shut up! You bastard. You, that you could think such a thing about me. How dare you? How fucking dare you?” He was punctuating each word with a poke in my chest. Bobby is taller and one heck of a lot heavier than me. I was getting frightened. He started to turn away, and I thought he was finished, but then he whirled with a roundhouse punch that caught me right on the nose. I went down. I don’t remember the next few moments very well, but when I came to, the door was shut and I was alone. My nose felt broken. I got up and walked to Josh Tastler’s.

  Josh assured me the nose wasn’t broken. I went home and took four Tylenol. Then I rested for a while, although a nap wouldn’t come. Finally I got up and went to the office. If I wanted the whole weekend with Mags I had better get the paper ready.

  Around The Corner Wednesday November 29

  Thanksgiving kicks off what we call the holiday season. For someone like myself, living in Hartford, that always meant the party season. Urban singles would have lots of parties, drinking, buying things. It was a time of shopping, and of spending.

  Here, things are a bit different. Here, holidays mostly mean family. I was lucky enough to spend this Thanksgiving with a wonderful family and it made me think about what I have missed in not being part of a close family. And of how a close family and a small town have a lot in common.

  In a close family you have people looking out for you. It’s hard to get away with anything, and especially with something you shouldn’t be doing. In a close family drug addiction, bad relationships, abuse, it all is hard to hide. And if it is something that harms you, it harms the family. So the family will intervene.

  A small town is pretty much the same. It’s hard to get aw
ay with much, because everyone knows you and your habits. Word gets around. You can still have a secret or two, but they have to be well hidden. You do your dirty laundry out of town if you can.

  In a family, your business is under scrutiny. A new girlfriend? A crush? A secret desire? A wish? It is all on the table, to be questioned and examined. In a good family the teasing is pleasant and not intended to hurt. In a bad one it can be destructive. The two edged sword of having no secrets.

  In a small town your business is under scrutiny, too. You can’t buy too many bottles before everyone knows you like to drink. You can’t date someone without it being the topic of discussion at the Dinor. You can’t get a new car without everyone knowing what it is. The upside to this is clear. A stranger can’t be nosing around your house without being seen. Something out of place is seen and reported. There is a security to a small town. And like all security, it comes at the price of privacy.

  In the end, that’s the crux of the matter. Family and town both offer security, and they both exact their price in privacy. The balance is always in danger, and the rewards and penalties go hand in hand. For me, family seems a pretty good trade for a little nosiness.

  Tom Tharon

  Chapter 14

  My nose still hurts. But not nearly as much as my heart. I never thought I was all that close to Bobby, and in fact I was not, but the aura of betrayal that both he and Susie exuded at me, well, that was not a good feeling. Mags has been very sweet to me, trying to make me feel like I am not at fault, but I am. I can’t very well blame Meg, she only told me what she knew, I am the one that presented it as I did and drew the conclusions I did. And other people are paying the price.

  Meg came in on Monday and we had a long talk about this. School was still closed for Thanksgiving (and since when do you get several days off for a holiday anyway?) and she came in around ten. I don’t think she really realizes how badly torn up the Schwartz family is. She was ecstatic that the culprit was caught and the abuse ended.

  “We did it, didn’t we, Mr. Tharon? I mean without us it would still be going on. Other kids would be getting hurt, too. Makes you feel good inside, knowing you made a difference, doesn’t it?

  Her exuberance was such that I had to put on a happy face and let her think that I agreed. “Well Meg, I think the credit belongs to you.” That was a little self-serving but I think she was pleased. “And yes, we did make a difference. You see the power that is in the press. The ability to change dozens of lives, for good or bad. You have to exercise the power carefully.”

  Meg nodded sagely. “I know the boys still have a lot of hard times to go through. Maybe Mr. Schwartz was smart though. Mike will be better off making a clean break, getting a new start. You want to know something?”

  I nodded. I did indeed want to know something, anything.

  “This town doesn’t feel the same anymore. I mean, before you came here it all seemed so dull and well, the same. Like it had been this way for a million years. But since you got here, well, the town is different. It’s changing. It’s like a balloon full of air and you untied the end. Now all the pressure is leaking off. All the secrets are coming out. And it wasn’t nearly so dull a place as I thought.”

  Her words made me think of what Vera Carrone had told me. I was the trickle. And now the floodgates were open. I didn’t want to admit it; but it was true. More had been revealed about the town’s inhabitants in the last few months than in all the years I lived here as a kid. And nothing revealed was good. It was like an apple that appeared perfect until you bit it. Then you discovered it was rotten to the core. Or maybe my dad was more accurate. A pus filled wound. Scabbed over, but filled with putrescence.

  “Mr. Tharon? Are you ok?” Meg’s voice was tinged with concern.

  “Uh, yeah Meg, I’m fine. Just got lost in thought. Old age you know.” I tried a laugh, but that was a mistake. What came out was a dry cackle.

  Meg was still eyeing me curiously. I realized that what I thought was concern in her voice was merely a desire to understand. She wasn’t really worried about me; she just wanted to know everything about what went on in the world. “I have a little something to follow up, maybe for next week.” She said. She had written this Thanksgiving week about all the wonderful teachers and workers at the school that the student should be thankful for. It occurred to me that when she wrote things like that there was a very gentle undercurrent of… well not sarcasm exactly, but cool disdain. She knew she was writing what was expected, but she didn’t believe it for a minute.

  “Something interesting?” I asked her. She was clearly champing at the bit for more stories like the one she had just uncovered. I wondered if it rankled her that she wasn’t going to get to write about it. It probably did. Until recently I wouldn’t have understood the need for diplomacy either. A good story was a good story, if people got hurt as a result, that was their problem.

  “Could be…” she said a bit mysteriously, reminding me again of Nancy Drew. “There is a sort of rumor going around with the kids.” The kids. Already she was thinking of herself as something separate from the mainstream. I knew the feeling, the arrogance of being above life, just reporting on it. Or maybe I was making too much out of a twelve year old’s word choices. “It’s kind of National Enquirer stuff, but maybe there is something to it. I will let you know.” She paused. “You sure you are ok? You seem kind of…sad maybe.”

  I was surely wrong about her not feeling concern. She wasn’t possibly that good an actress. “Yes Meg, I am fine. Just tired, it’s been a long week.”

  She smiled at that. “It’s Monday.” And then she turned and went out to begin her next investigation. I was no doubt projecting a lot of my own bitterness onto her, making her seem more cynical and calculating than was possible.

  That night Mags brought me Chinese takeout and we spent the evening eating it in bed. I had read about such things, and seen them in movies, but never before had I been with a woman who actually would do that. Mags was a real refreshment to me. She was not worried about status and other women and all the things that gave the women I had known a hard edge. We spent the long dark hours talking, occasionally pausing to kiss and touch for a while. I knew that when the talk ran down and the food was gone we would make love and drift to sleep in each other’s arms. It was a good thing to know.

  “I heard that Sarah Jacobs was kicked out of the halfway house.” She told me as she wound a spiral of lo mein on her fork. “She was caught, well, working again. At least that’s what Al Chancy is saying. And she did work there a long time, he might well know. Her kids are split up into foster homes. Such a shame.”

  “Yeah, it is. For the kids especially. Though they were not exactly growing up to be productive citizens as things were. They pretty much ran wild. You know, I hate to say this considering I was one of the, uh, exploiters, but it seems like Sarah just needs attention from a man too much. You know what I mean? She can’t do without it, no matter how she gets the attention or what the price is.”

  Mags nodded and chewed thoughtfully. “The truth is I liked Sarah. When she was doing well, she was a nice person. But you are right. Her self esteem seemed to be measured by the number of inches she had inside her.” I almost choked on my dumpling, and Maggie patted my back in sympathy. “Well, maybe that was a bad way to put it.”

  “My God, you are funny, Mags.” I told her and leaned over to kiss her lips. Mmmm. Lo mein. I paused, then asked her what I had been wondering about since Meg talked to me that morning. “Do you think I am the cause of all the bad things happening. Like Vera said?”

  Mags smiled and put down her carton. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. “No Tom, you are not the cause. And I don’t think that’s what she meant anyway. I think there is a difference between a cause and…well a catalyst or a harbinger. You aren’t causing anything. But maybe your coming here kind of provided a spark. Maybe those very first things you said about the town, in the paper, about how nice it was and good
and safe. Maybe that was somehow tempting fate. And once the response started, well it had a momentum of its own. People started to tell the truth, to unhide what was hidden. And that is catchy.”

  That made some sense. And if what was uncovered was rotten, wasn’t it a good thing to uncover it? Didn’t you want to know if something was nearly ready to fall apart before it happened without warning? Or was that the reporter talking? Because I still wished the surface was unbroken, no matter how rotten what lay underneath was. Silly, but true. “I still kind of wish I hadn’t done it. Hadn’t opened the floodgates.”

  “To everything there is a season. It looks like this is the season The Corners loses its virgin image.”

  I thought back to the story Eustice had told me. To my father’s words. To those poor boys. To the missing girls. This town had NEVER been a virgin. I was about to say so, and maybe to tell Mags the story about the Jones family when she spoke again.

  “I almost forgot what else I heard. Did you know the Dolands are leaving?”

  “The Rev? And the luscious Yolanda? Why?”

  Mags giggled and said “Take a guess.”

  I pondered it for a moment. “The Rev finally caught Yolanda in Flagrante Delicto?”

  She shook her head. “Close, but no banana. Turns out Yolanda wasn’t the only one in that house doing a little extracurricular activity. The good Reverend Albert Doland had something going on the side, too. I can’t believe he was able to keep it a secret, considering the way secrets are in this town. But that turns out to be the case.”

  I nudged her in the ribs with my toe. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who was it?”