by M. Mabie
As I hauled out the old washer and dryer—which wouldn’t ever go back inside—and cleaned the floors and walls, I listened to the country music that filled my house.
Little by little, I saw progress, and little by little, I got excited.
If Wynne was anything like the people and places in the music on the radio, I had a lot to look forward to. No more looking back.
I was right. The books at the shop were even more screwed than I’d thought.
Why had he let it get so bad?
That morning Dad went to a farm sale with Dub, not to buy anything, but because they were both nosy like that. They’d poke around through the tools and parts, and stick around to see what someone’s old shit went for—all just to see what their crap at home was worth. I’d left right after he did, so I wasn’t worried about him asking me why I was working on a Sunday.
He hadn’t mailed anything out¸ or deposited anything for weeks. I was sure the account was messed up at the bank, but I’d deal with that on Monday. At the moment, my biggest concern was getting all of the invoices out and sorting through the payments we’d received that he hadn’t marked as paid. After I dug in, though, it wasn’t too confusing. It was like he just stopped doing it one day, so I started from there.
When I finished with the invoices, I went through all of the open purchase orders and noted some of them weren’t marked as received, but I knew that Dean could help me with that next week. I’d get those paid and we’d be fine.
It wasn’t a talk I wanted to have with my dad, but it was time he let me handle the billing. Also, it was a good time to get Dean into the habit of doing the ordering. We could use a new computer or two, and that would be an easy way to make my dad walk away from it.
Dad’s mechanical work was still great. Maybe he just needed a break from the other stuff. And let’s be honest, I had plenty of spare time at work to help him with bookkeeping. It just wasn’t until then I’d noticed he’d needed it.
He’d always taken care of everything. Looking back, I was thankful I had a dad who cared so much about me and always wanted me around.
It was only noon when I got out of there. I was relieved everything was straight, and even though we could always do better, the shop was doing great.
Before I headed home, I ran into the store to get what we needed for the week. I wasn’t sure what made me think of him, but Vaughn came to mind as I walked the aisles. That morning when I drove into town, I’d seen him carrying things into the house by himself. I wondered if he was alone, or if maybe his family was following him there. Though I didn’t think that was the case because I hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his hand when we were eating the night before.
I decided the neighborly thing to do was bring him a few things as I passed by on my way home.
It wasn’t much. Chips, some apples, bread, cheese, lunch meat, and water—just because it was the right thing to do. I didn’t have a clue if he’d eat any of it, so I grabbed a gallon of milk; at least I was sure he liked that. Then I added a candy bar for good measure. Who didn’t like chocolate?
I tossed the items in the cart with my things and made my way to the counter to check out.
I’m sure it’s the same in every small town. If you want to know celebrity gossip, then find a checkout line at your nearest grocery store. If you want to know the local gossip, you can usually find it in the same place.
Mindlessly, I looked at the cold drinks by the register and waited my turn. So it was totally coincidental and innocent when I overheard BethAnne and Rhonda, the cashier, discussing our new dentist. I didn’t gossip, but in Wynne, there was no way to avoid hearing it.
“I heard his fiancée left him right before they were supposed to move. Isn’t that sad?” BethAnne asked Rhonda with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. “And have you seen him yet?”
“That’s awful. I haven’t met him,” Rhonda said and continued to move things across the scanner.
“Well, my sister showed him the old Robinson house a few months back, when he was in town working everything out with Dr. Carver. She said he was fine, girl. I don’t know how old he is, but if he’s single and looking, I’m ready to be found.”
The two laughed and cackled, like I’d seen them do before, but when they noticed me they toned it down.
“Oh, hey, Mutt. How’s it going?” BethAnne inquired, her lipstick and teased hair still all a fluff from Sunday church.
“Goin’ good, and you?” I answered as I reached for the separator that silently said this shit is my shit and that shit is your shit and placed it in between my things and hers.
“Can’t complain. I saw Dean last night at The Tap. He was having a good time.” The wink that Rhonda and know-it-all BethAnne shared wasn’t missed.
“That’s good. The shop was busy yesterday. He deserved a little fun.”
“Are you ever going to date that boy? You know he’s been waiting around years for you, Mutt?”
Rhonda finished bagging up BethAnne’s things and gave her the total.
“He’s like my brother. It would be a little strange,” I said. All the while remembering that BethAnne married a guy who was her stepbrother for a time. Paul’s dad was BethAnne’s mom’s second husband. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”
Rhonda’s eyes lit up. I’d hit a nerve. I meant no offense, but it was too easy and I knew it would shut BethAnne up. I found the ones who gossiped the most had the most skeletons in their closet. And BethAnne had a walk-in’s worth of bones. Literally.
Judging by the cherry red cheeks and the scowl, she had taken offense. She quickly loaded a cart with her bags, not saying another word until she was walking out.
“Have a good day, Rhonda. Mutt.” In her fluster to leave, she banged the corner of the cart off the side of the brand new automatic doors they’d just installed. Those things were never going to last.
“Well, you sure got her all worked up,” Rhonda warned. “You know she’s sensitive about Paul.”
“Sensitive? If she doesn’t like the taste of her own medicine, that’s her problem. I heard her making fun of Lesley the other day when she was at Diana’s for lunch. You tell me how sensitive it is to make fun of a person with disabilities, through no fault of their own. BethAnne can just deal with whatever she has coming to her.”
Lesley was Coach Fry’s daughter. At games, she’d cheer alongside the cheerleaders and everyone in town loved her. She had Down syndrome, but don’t underestimate her; she was smart as a whip, remembering every move of every game she’d ever been to. Plus, she adored everyone. And if my dad hadn’t told BethAnne to shut her pie-hole that day in the restaurant, I would have.
My grandpa always used to say, “God don’t like ugly, Mutt.”
Sometimes I thought he was ugly, but if I ever got too far out of line, I was quickly reeled back in. Thinking back on it, my grandfather was kind of a hypocrite. He was the first one to call me Mutt after all.
I wonder if God half likes half ugly? Because I think that’s what Grandpa was.
“Oh, that’s just BethAnne. You can’t let her get to you. So how’d the hot dogs go over yesterday? Did you have enough? Your dad was worried when he ordered them.”
“We ran out about three. So it was just enough.”
“Good. I’ll make a note of it for next year.”
As she bagged up my things, I had her keep separate the items I was dropping off at Vaughn’s. Then I got lost thinking about how handsome he was. BethAnne was a busybody, but she was right. He was fine.
That train of thought skidded to a halt as Rhonda said, “Earth to Mutt. Fifty-nine, seventy-two.” I blinked a few times to regain my focus and handed her my debit card.
“You feel okay, honey?” Rhonda asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just thinking. I’m fine. Thanks, Rhonda.”
“You’re welcome. See you later,” she said. Seeing I could manage all of the bags myself, she stepped away from the register and started restocking t
he movie wall.
There weren’t too many bags, so I hauled everything without a cart to the truck, then ran back in for the milk and case of water.
Lewis, the owner of the boat dealership, honked and waved at me as he drove by.
That’s what Wynne was like.
Everyone knew everyone.
For the most part—except for election years, which were brutal in a small town—everyone was friendly and welcoming. People waved, or at the very least, lifted their index finger off the wheel, as they drove by.
If someone needed help, the town had a benefit.
If someone was sick, we’d rally around them until they were feeling better.
It was a great place to grow up, but at times it was smothering. You literally couldn’t take a shit without someone knowing it and three others smelling it.
Forget Facebook or Twitter, social networking in Wynne was actually social. The men—or the local Liar’s Club, as I liked to call them—met every morning at Diana’s to talk over town happenings. Who hadn’t mowed their yard. Who bought a new truck. High school sports, crops and the weather.
The women had the grocery store and the hair salon where they’d solve all the world’s problems, and still have time to set up all of the singles within a twenty-mile radius.
However, small town living was a double-edged sword, and oftentimes you had to take the good with the bad, keep your chin down, and take care of business. I’d like to think I did all of those things.
My truck roared to life, and I silently made a note to have Dad look at my exhaust. It was normally on the loud side, but it was getting obnoxious. I could barely hear the radio, so I turned it up.
I didn’t know if I was a country music fan or if I simply didn’t know much of anything else, but that’s what I listened to. I mean, I didn’t have a choice, there was only one station in town and that’s all Sunny played.
If I had to exclude Dean and my dad, Sunny was probably my best friend. Her mom was my babysitter when we were little and we always got along. Of course, we were as different as night and day, but that’s what made her fun.
She’s bubbly and charming. I’m … not really.
Sunny Wilbanks had the blondest of blond hair to match her name, which was thanks to the salon downtown. She always looked put together. Laughter and good times followed her around, just like her dog Andy Two did. If you’re curious, Andy One was hit by the school bus a few years ago. Andy Two wasn’t even the same breed as Andy One, but Sunny liked the name. She was a huge Shawshank fan.
She didn’t work on Sundays, but she would pre-record segments to play when she was out.
“All right, Wynne-ers, it’s Sunday afternoon and the sun is shining. How about a feel good song from a few summers back? It certainly brings back a few memories for me. Now put on your boots and go cause a little trouble. It’s good for you.” The recording broadcasted over my radio as I drove through town.
The music filled the truck, and before I knew it, I was approaching the old Robinson house, or Vaughn Renfro’s house, I supposed.
I came to a stop on the shoulder of the road in front of the old home and killed my beast. Before I got out I sat there for a moment and thought about how nice it would be if he actually renovated the whole house. Most of the neglect was cosmetic, but it would be a tough project to tackle alone.
His vehicle sat in the driveway and the garage door was open, showing boxes and furniture piled inside.
All of the windows were open in the house and I heard the same song I was listening to filter through them.
I was a little nervous.
Wynne didn’t get many new people. Sure, people moved away, and sometimes they came back, but it was an entirely new thing to have a total outsider with no ties to our small town.
It was exciting.
I grabbed the bag of things I’d bought for him and started up the long, uneven sidewalk that led to the front porch. Each step I took, the swell of anxiety grew and that was a new feeling for me. It wasn’t exactly shyness, because I wasn’t particularly anxious around people. I just wanted him to like me.
We were neighbors after all. Besides, it was probably hard not knowing anyone in a new place, but what the hell did I know about any of that? I was a lifer.
I’d thought about him quite a bit the night before when I was having a beer in the back of my truck. I didn’t know what it was like to be the new girl, but I knew plenty about being a little on the lonely side.
If being alone was our only thing in common, then so be it.
I was curious about him, and why he’d chosen to move to Wynne.
On top of it all, what Diana had mouthed to me in the diner the night before hadn’t been at all wrong.
He was attractive—in a clean-cut kind of way—and refreshing. Most of the men around here were doing pretty damn good if they were wearing a shirt half the time. Maybe that’s why he was so alluring to me? Because he wasn’t like anyone I knew.
The door was open, but the screen door was closed and latched. I peeked in to find a completely empty room, save for a lamp in the corner, but I didn’t see him. I knocked my boot against the bottom of the door, since my hands were full, and waited to hear any movement.
Nothing.
I kicked my foot against it a little harder and called, “Hello, Vaughn?” Then waited again.
There was a nice breeze and the warm spring weather was welcome; it had been a long cold winter. I noticed there were tulips popping up by the stairs on the side of his front porch, which led to the other side of the house. The grass was getting greener, and soon the dogwood tree in the yard would be blooming.
“Hi,” I heard from outside as I saw him peek around the corner to see me standing at his front door.
He was less put together than he had been the night before. His sandy blond hair was a little messier on the top, and he had an older looking pair of faded jeans and a white T-shirt on. He wore a pair of brown leather gloves and the sight of him made me forget what the hell I was even doing there.
“What’s all that?” he said with a friendly grin.
I looked at the bag and I lifted the milk in my hand, realizing I needed to say something but struggling to find the words.
“You … you like milk,” I stammered. Why is it as soon as you say the wrong thing, the right thing suddenly becomes so clear?
“I do.” He laughed and climbed the three stairs leading up to where I was. All three of them creaked, and then every board he stepped on followed suit.
“I was at the store, and since we’re neighbors now, I thought I’d bring you a few things you might need.”
He pulled off his left glove and stuck his right hand under his arm, pulling off the other and holding them there as he reached out for me to hand him the milk.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” His face didn’t seem as tense as it had the night before, and when he smiled his eyes did this thing where they glistened like the sun dancing on the lake.
Had I really just thought that?
I handed him the milk and shifted the bag of things to get a better grip.
“Come on in, we’ll put this in the kitchen.” He walked past and I trailed in, breathing in the scent of sweat and soap. “It’s still really empty in here. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, it’s fine, you just got into town. I saw you put a lot of stuff in the garage. Maybe you should think about bringing some stuff in,” I teased.
He opened the old refrigerator and set the milk on the top shelf. I placed the bag on the counter and handed him the meat and cheese. Vaughn looked at the food I was handing him, and judging by his expression, you’d think I brought him a damn steak and crème brûleé.
“It’s not much. I just know from experience how time gets away from you when you’re working hard and you probably don’t have much here. By the way, the store downtown is open on Sundays but only until about five. I wouldn’t want you to starve.”
“Well, it’s real
ly nice of you. I think it’s going to take me a little while to learn all of the business’ hours around here. In Cleveland, I could get food around the clock. I suppose I took that for granted.”
Why someone would chose to move here—the actual Middle of Nowhere—was fucking nuts.
“Cleveland is where you’re from then? That’s a big move all by yourself.” Then I immediately regretted saying it, remembering what BethAnne had said about his girlfriend or whatever.
His eyebrows shot up and he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, it is. That wasn’t exactly the plan, but it’ll be okay.”
The twinkle I’d seen dimmed and knowing it had been my fault—at least today—I felt bad. How could anyone leave a man like this? He had to have some crazy flaw that I hadn’t come across yet. Or maybe she was plain stupid.
Sometimes, people are just dumb, and she was president of the Idiot Club.
Before I knew it, I said, “Well, I don’t have much going on. I can run my groceries home and come back.”
“You’d do that?” He looked as if no one had ever offered to help him with anything. Ever.
What the hell was going on up in Cleveland?
“Sure. What do you need help with?” Expecting him to turn down my offer, and half hoping he would, I emptied the rest of the bag and wadded it up, not knowing what to do with it.
“Here,” he said and took it from me. “Normally, I’d say not to worry about it, but I only have a week to get this place…” He looked around and I followed his gaze throughout the kitchen and into the front room. “It’s not that it isn’t livable or anything. I’m sure there’s far worse. I just had plans for paint and sanding the floors. I have carpet people coming Tuesday, and our new appliances and a lot of our—my—furniture coming at the end of the week. I want to stain these cabinets before the new countertops come in. And, you know, just give the place a good scrub.”
He stuffed the empty sacks into a trash bag hanging on a door leading out to the back deck. “I start working in the office with Dr. Carver next Monday. If I can get some of that done, I’ll be happy for now.” He leaned against the counter and ran both of his hands over his head. It was clear he was a little overwhelmed.