Dig
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CHAPTER TWENTY
The reunion
Smithville High School had moved a decade ago to a campus outside of town and it now provided for over half of the county. What had been six hundred students in 1985 had grown over the years to just shy of fifteen hundred in four grades. It outgrew the walls of the old high school building which still lived on Lord Street, one block west of Howe. The old school building was now used for community events, town meetings and as a hurricane shelter for people who were unable to travel when the big ones came through and stayed too long. It was the perfect option, if not lowest rent, and having the reunion there freed up the committee’s funding for better food and for the previous night’s party on the island.
The Bat sat in the main parking lot out by the street and Rusty Clemmons chain-smoked his third cigarette. It wasn’t the reunion that bothered him, but everything else. He wore another of the four button-down shirts he had packed and considered khaki pants before slipping on his favorite jeans. Robyn had approved of the outfit. She sat next to him in a silky, flowing tank top, shorts and sandals. Rusty looked her up and down as he smoked.
“You look comfortable,” he said and regretted it. “I don’t mean…”
“I get it. Hey, there’s no reason to sweat to death,” she said. “It’s going to be boiling in that building if they didn’t get in there first thing this morning and turn the air on.”
Rusty rubbed his chin as the smoke coiled up and burned his eye on its way to the roof of the car. From there, it crawled toward the open window and oozed outside. The conversation with Jack Everett had become a distant memory, almost as if it hadn’t happened. Perhaps he dreamed it. Still, Rusty had the desire to leave, to go back to his job and his false friends and his simple life, to disappear back into the world. In Chicago, he was an insignificant. Here, in Smithville, people knew him or knew of him. They knew of his sister and how she was killed. They knew his car. He’d even been questioned in a murder investigation for Christ’s sake.
For the briefest of moments, he noticed the bad odor when he breathed, even over the cigarette smoke. Even over the heavy dose of pine trees and sea air. It had grown stronger, but as soon as his brain registered the stink, it was gone again. He kept smoking in hopes it would smother the other smell.
A police car went by with its lights on and siren wailing. It was headed toward the water. Cars pulled to the side of the road to let it pass and slowly, the siren shifted pitch and quieted.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Robyn asked.
“Don’t know. Is your restaurant on fire?”
“Nah. Someone would’ve called me, although I did threaten them. I said if it isn’t a matter of life or death, my phone better not ring. I told Kelly the same thing.”
He puffed on his cigarette and laughed at her. Robyn was the only one who could make him laugh right then. He wondered if she felt the same way. He lost Chicago again and thought of staying for Robyn and seeing what happened.
“Are you okay with last night?” he said. He just blurted it out.
She looked at him like he might have sprouted a flower out of his forehead. “Hon, that was the best night I’ve had in a long time. I was so relaxed this morning. Why? Are you feeling guilty for taking my virginity?”
“Ha! Yes. That’s exactly it,” he said.
She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and dragged the smoke in deep. “Seriously. I won’t break. I’m hardly a delicate flower, Russ. I’m not sure I ever was. And I know we really just met. I mean twenty years ago, we shared a couple classes. Just know I’m a big girl and I can make big girl decisions. If you want…”
“I was just thinking how good this felt,” he said. “All of this.” Robyn shut her mouth. “I mean, I’m comfortable with you. I don’t know why and I don’t want to complain about it. I feel like you’ve always been sitting right there.”
“Oh,” she said.
He stared at her for a minute as she looked through the windshield. There was a hint of a smile on her face—the good kind. He wondered what she might be thinking. Before long, he was staring out the windshield with her, watching others filter into the building—Chris and his wife, Vicky, among them. There was a kid with Chris as well which Rusty found strange.
More people were filtering in than he expected, at least three times the crowd he’d counted at the bar on Friday. Some looked familiar, some didn’t. Robyn sighed and grabbed his hand.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yep,” Robyn said, still wearing the smirk. “Let’s go do this.”