Squid Corners

by Ed Helenski

  We didn’t talk about what we had seen that night, but we talked about it in the morning. “Do you suppose there is some homeless person living out in the woods?” Maggie asked me as we munched on some raisin bagels and drank our coffee.

  “I guess it’s possible,” I said, thinking that there were lots better places for someone homeless to stay than out there. “I don’t think there have been many problems with the homeless showing up here though. Too far from any urban centers or rail lines, or even bus lines.” It was true, the nearest Greyhound stop was in Siegly, and even Siegly presented more opportunities for shelter than out here did.

  “Yeah,” Maggie said brushing the crumbs from her bagel into her hand and taking them to the trash can under the sink. She turned and leaned back against the counter, looking at me. “You think there is any connection?”

  I set down my coffee and asked her, “Connection to what?” My mind was more focused on how nice she looked this morning, in a blue print dress that was of modest length, but hugged her torso tightly enough to show off her figure. Despite the evenings festivities I felt a stirring that told me I was ready for more. And the counter looked like fun.

  Mags must have seen the look in my eyes, or realized what was up when I started towards her. She squealed and pretended to be afraid as I approached. We kissed, and she responded, but when I lifted her up onto the counter she shook her head. “I can’t stay that long, honey, and you know it. I have to get to school. We only got to dally this long because I’m working here in town.” She was filling in for Clarice Wyscome, third grade teacher and wife of Timmy who runs the Exxon. Or ran I should say. The Exxon is closed now, and it would appear the Wyscomes are moving. Which more than likely means Chuck Peters is going away, too. Emptying out, that’s what the town is doing.

  I sighed, and set her back down on the floor, enjoying the feel of my hands at her waist. “Ok, Ok, I’ll just put myself in neutral till school lets out. But then, Baby, you have got detention. Hours and hours of detention.”

  Maggie giggled at that, and once again I reveled in the sound. There was something so unself-conscious, so utterly at ease about her laughter. It was wonderful. “Yes, SIR!” she said, snapping off a little salute. “Do you think?”

  “Do I think what?” My hands were still at her waist, and a part of me, the currently very hard part, had not entirely given up on the idea of the countertop.

  Mags gently removed my hands from her waist. Then she gave the bulge at my front a little pat and said, “Come on now, let some of the blood get back to your brain. Do you think what we saw is connected to Sioban? It all kind of points towards that area.”

  The mention of Sioban was like a bucket of ice water to my loins, and my excitement was gone in a flash. The fact of the matter was I had been wondering the same thing. I couldn’t see any way to connect the two, especially since I really had no idea what it was we had seen. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but until we figure out what it was we saw there will be no way to be sure.”

  Mags nodded. “What are we gonna do to find out?” She was persistent, that was for sure.

  “I guess I will talk to Reggie, see what putting our heads together might reveal. And maybe talk to Meg again, see if she left anything out that might gibe with what we know.”

  Maggie agreed, and then, reluctantly, headed out the door and down the street towards the school. I went back in and had another cup of coffee. Putting the paper together wouldn’t take long. Experiment over. Still, all these notes, I might be able to fictionalize this into a novel or something. The story of a town that died. Hmmm. Had possibilities.

  I spent the morning setting up copy, a task that felt not sad, but rather freeing. I guess in a lot of ways I hadn’t left some things behind when I left the Courant. There had still been deadlines and schedules, and maybe that was as much the problem as location ever was. Time would certainly tell. I decided to get lunch at the Dinor. I hadn’t been there in quite a while, but Sarah Jacobs was long gone, so I figured it would be ok.

  When I went in it was just past noon, but there wasn’t a soul in the joint except for Albert Chancy behind the counter. He looked surprised to see me come in. “Well now, if it isn’t Mr. Tharon. Quite a long while since you showed your face.” He looked at me with eyes that were both flat with dislike and red rimmed with liquor. I suddenly wished I had just gone home and had a sandwich.

  “Yeah, I guess it has been,” I said, deciding I had no choice but to brazen it out. I took a seat by the counter. “How are you doing Chancy?”

  He filled a somewhat opaque water glass with some ice and water and pushed it at me. “Been better. Business ain’t. As you can see.”

  I had thought there would be more to the sentence, like business ain’t what it used to be, or business ain’t so good, but I guess he summed it up pretty well. Business ain’t.

  “Me too, me too.”

  He wiped at the counter with a dirty rag where the ice water had spilled. “Don’t expect me to shed no tears about that. Mostly all you done since you got here is dig up things best left alone. And look at all the good it’s done.” He reached into his pocket under the soiled while apron he wore and extracted a pack of Pall Malls. He lit one, ignoring his own signs proclaiming the Dinor smoke free. Then, looking right at me, he pulled a pint bottle from under the counter and took a pull.

  I thought about that as I waved the smoke away. I decided I wasn’t responsible for what had happened in the town, or for what HAD happened in the town. I didn’t dig anything up; I merely observed and listened. The town had given up its secrets all on its own. I shifted my weight on the ragged old stool and picked up a menu. The special was meatloaf. “How about the meatloaf special?” I asked Chancy, and got a scowl back in return.

  “All out.” He looked around the room as he said it, taking in the empty booths and tables, then brought his eyes back to mine, daring me to question him.

  I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “How about just a cheeseburger then, fries and a coke?”

  He shook his head. “All out.” His eyes were flat and dead. I decided I wasn’t really hungry, but didn’t want to just beat a retreat.

  “Well, let’s try this, then. What DO you have?”

  He seemed to consider, then exhaled a great cloud of smoke at me. “Got some stew that ain’t TOO old, I guess.” He chuckled. “Only a couple weeks.”

  I had had enough. I stood up and made for the door. “Don’t you want your stew?” Chancy asked me, laughing and coughing smoke at the same time.

  I turned, and looked around at the battered vinyl booths, mended with tape, the dingy Formica, the worn linoleum, the strange and sad mix of old time diner and modern world. “You can’t blame me for this, Chancy. You would have gone under one way or another. Your time is passed. Places like this only exist as re-creations nowadays. Get with the times.” And with that I left, Chancy staring after me with his jaw hanging down. I guess he was used to dispensing the insults, not receiving them.

  I had meant to track down Reggie later in the day but it completely slipped my mind. I spent that afternoon, and most of Friday, at my office, and at the municipal building, digging through old photos and memorabilia, putting together the images that would make up next weeks farewell copy. The paper going out this coming Wednesday would be the last issue. No sense dragging it out. I had considered one more issue, just to finish out the year, but decided waiting till two days after Christmas to close up shop was a bit too sad. Besides, no one would care but me. The paper hadn’t exactly endeared itself to the town.

  Saturday morning it began to snow, and by mid-afternoon the ground was covered. The weather reports said it would continue for several days, leaving a good foot of snow on the ground just in time for Christmas. I tried to entice Mags out to play in the snow, but she was bent on keeping me inside and warm all weekend long. We managed to find some things to occupy our time. Over and over again.

  We also made plans for C
hristmas. We would spend it at her family’s house in Apollo, which suited me just fine. I enjoyed Thanksgiving there, and had no where else to be, really. I decided I would go shopping on Monday, into Clearfield. I wanted to find a jewelry store. I thought a ring was in order. What better Christmas present to myself than to propose to Mags? It would take the sting out of shutting down the paper.

  The last issue was all put together. I had assembled photos from all the decades of the town, and included some clippings of events of the past. It was schmaltzy, nostalgic, and entirely upbeat and forgiving. No digs at the town, no veiled mentions of a hideous past. Just a quaint little place. The place I had come back to; before I found out what it really was.

  Around the Corner Wednesday December 20

  It is with a heavy heart that I bring you this last issue of the Squid Corners Gazette and Clipper. Our little experiment was great while it lasted, but, like all things, it now comes to a close.

  I want you all to know that it is purely finances that have forced me to make this decision. The size of the town, the distribution of the paper, have made it impossible to attract enough advertising to support the costs.

  There are many people who I wish to thank for helping with this project, and many more that I will not get to mention. First off, I wish to dedicate this last issue to my dad. He lived his whole life here in The Corners, and he was as much a part of this town as anyone. To me, in many ways, he was this town.

  I would like to thank those contributors to our endeavor as well. Josh Tastler, MD, for his fine medical advice, Constable Reggie Pickett, for his invaluable information, Meg Dunway for the wonderful stories she has written for our kids and ourselves. Meg is going places, mark my words.

  And on a personal note, I would like to thank some others, for being there when I needed them. Thanks Cora, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I wish you the best of luck in your new home. Thanks to Bobby Schwartz, who was nothing but supportive of me throughout this trial. And Thanks to Maggie Cowell, whom made coming back to The Corners the best decision I ever made.

  And in the end, thank you all. My readers. Thank you for the opportunity, for the support, and for being here still. Squid Corners will go on, paper or no paper. And I will watch its life, as do all of you.

  Tom Tharon

  Chapter 17

  The events that followed the last issue of the paper happened in a considerably more disjointed fashion than the narrative that follows. For one thing, much of what you will read I was not privy to at the time it occurred, but have rather cobbled together in the aftermath. For another, I had neither the time, nor the inclination, to stop and write any of this down as it happened. So I must abandon the essentially diary-like approach that makes up the bulk of this tale, and finish things out with the retrospect of my position now, at the end of things.

  The last issue of the paper was met, as expected, with a mixture of lassitude and relief by most of the folks in town. Maggie, of course, was consolatory, but I suspect even she was glad to see it go, since that was one less impediment to my leaving. Leaving was a subject that she seemed to be fixed on, getting out of the town. So it surprised me when we met for dinner on Monday and I received the news about Clarice. It seemed that since the Wyscomes were leaving town, Clarice wouldn’t be back to finish out the year at all. Baldy had called Mags into his office that morning and asked her to fill in for the remainder of the term, until June.

  “I know we were talking about maybe going away, especially now that the paper is gone, but I didn’t really feel like I could just leave them in the lurch,” Maggie told me between bites of a cheese and mushroom pizza we had gotten at Steve Dobies’ place. We were sitting on the living room floor at her apartment, a rare visit there. Maggie sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table, still managing to look ladylike as she ate the huge slice. I was seated kitty corner to her, but with my legs stretched out in front of me. My back was propped up by the sofa. My days of sitting Indian style had passed. “Besides, we can’t really just take off, there is still the library. I want to make sure it’s being tended to once I am gone.”

  I noticed she was talking about leaving as if we had made some final decision. And I guess, although we hadn’t come out and said it, a decision had been made. “I understand. In point of fact there is no way I can leave just yet, either.” Mags raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. “It’s, well, it’s not EXACTLY because of what Vera Carrone said to me. It’s a feeling I have that there is something still left to do. And until it’s done there will be no going.” I stopped and realized that I had acknowledged we were going. Two parts to that one, going, and WE. We were going, and we were going together. That was the plan. And no matter how much time passes, the moment that followed is how I will always see Maggie when I close my eyes. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, a slice of pizza in her hand, smiling a smile that touched not just her lips, but especially her eyes.

  “There is something else. I, well, I guess I might as well just come out and say it.” I was surprised to see a flush rising in her neck and cheeks. Now that I looked her ears were reddening too. I don’t think I had ever seen Mags embarrassed at all prior to that point.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s this place. My place. If…well, I guess there is something I have to say first. My answer is yes.” Her smile broadened at that part. I didn’t know what she meant, at first thinking she was saying yes, we should stay in town a while yet. But when she got up on her knees and came over to me, settled herself on my lap and kissed me, I realized what she meant. Yes. Yes, she would marry me. I dropped my pizza.

  After a little, the kisses subsided and she slid back onto the floor. Now we were side by side, legs out in front of us. She picked the slice I dropped off the floor and tossed it into the lid of the carton. “Now, back to what I was saying. Since we are going to be together, and now that we have a wedding to prepare, well, I would like to save a little money if it’s all right with you.” I still didn’t know what she meant and just looked at her waiting.

  “My lease is up the end of the year. Would it be ok with you if we let this place go and just stayed at yours till we decided where to go?”

  She wanted to move in with me. My heart pounded a mile a minute. It was my turn to feel a flush rising in my face. Finally I managed to stammer “I would be delighted.” This struck Mags as funny.

  “Delighted? You would be delighted?” Her laughter grew. “You sound like Scarlet O’Hara after some young bull asked her to dance. Is that how you feel, darling? Like the belle of the ball?"” She began to roll on the floor next to me, peals of laughter filling the room.

  “Oh, a funny lady huh?” I asked, trying not to laugh myself. I rolled towards her, began tickling her ribs as she squealed and jumped. “I will show you what we do to funny ladies.” All of a sudden her laughs stopped and she lay on her back looking up at me, breathless.

  “I love you, Tom.” She said, and I was certain she meant it.

  “I love you too, Mags.” I replied, and then proceeded to show her just what I did with funny ladies. Our kisses led to embraces and soon we were hurrying to get each other undressed. The rest of that night is one of the happiest memories I have. We were an island unto ourselves, lost in each other in a way I think many people never get to know. I explored her anew, as if I was a cartographer memorizing every feature for some new map I was creating. The difference was all my exploring was done with lips rather than telescope.

  I had always known I was a very oral person, but that night I found my real nature with Mags. I kissed and tasted every inch of her, starting at the crown of her head and working my way south. I lingered at her neck, an area I discovered she enjoyed having explored very much. In much of our past lovemaking Mags had been the aggressor, but this night she lay back and gave herself over to my control. It was as if she were saying “Do what you want, don’t worry, I trust you. What you want will be what I want” And so I did. I spent an eter
nity at her breasts, not just at the nipples, but tasting and enjoying all of the flesh. Her belly was a playground for my tongue, and she giggled under my ministrations.

  I slithered past the place she wanted my kisses the most, and made my way down each leg, stopping to kiss every toe, before slowly kissing and licking my way up her inner thighs. Her giggles had long since turned to little gasps and moans, and now they mingled with my own. I could not help but cry out with the sweetness of it.

  No matter how many times I may make love in this life, it is that moment, there on Maggie’s living room floor, that will stand out as the pinnacle of what intimacy can be.

  Over the next week or so I would not see as much of Mags as usual. Between trying to figure out what her lesson plan for the rest of the year would be, and deciding on what to pack up and bring to my place, she was pretty busy. As it turned out I would wish I had seen a lot more of her. I was busy too, though, packing up the things at the paper, and trying to make my house ready for two instead of one. The things from the paper that were not leased I listed on ebay, and hoped to recoup some money at least.

  I visited Amy Vickers, letting her know that I was vacating the office by the end of the year. She blustered and threatened to hold me to my lease, but it was only momentary. This was a woman who looked defeated.