by Brett Baker
“Great gooseshit, Johnny, you married a live one. I like you, Justine. Too many people just stand there and take my shit. They think I’m some little old lady who’s too frail to upset. Don’t believe it, Justine. I can take it. Nothing I like better than someone to spar with.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Justine said.
“But Migsy, I think you’re wrong about one thing,” Johnny added. “It’s not that people think you’re too frail to give you shit, it’s that you’re too damn crazy. They’re worried you’ll bring Migsy’s wrath upon them.”
“As well they should be,” Migsy said. “The three of you are too young to know anything, so let me explain something. I’m ninety-four years old.” Migsy leaned toward Justine, grabbed her hand, and said in a low voice as if relaying something in confidence, “We’ve established that already in case you weren’t listening, sweet cheeks.”
“I know,” Justine said. “I was paying attention.”
“Ha! Good,” Migsy said. “For the first twenty years of my life I worried about what people thought. Will this boy like me? Will that girl be my friend? What if I disappoint my mom? And then one day I had an awakening, and I realized that the only person who’s going to be with me my entire life no matter what, is me. So I damn well better make myself happy, and everyone else can fuck off if they don’t like it.” To Justine again: “That’s when I learned to cuss.”
“Good advice,” I said. “And I don’t think anyone had any doubt about whether you were trying to make others happy or not.”
“No, I suppose not,” Migsy said. “Why are you standing here? Whit, don’t you let them sit on the furniture?”
“We were just saying hello,” Johnny said.
“Well, you’ve said it. Now sit your asses down.” We obeyed Migsy’s command and each found a seat, Justine next to Johnny, me next to Whit. “That’s better. I don’t like to be crowded. Give me some space damnit. Now what the hell have you guys been up to?”
For the next thirty minutes we recapped the previous decade of our lives to Migsy. Johnny explained how he’d left law, and Migsy both congratulated him for coming to his senses and insulted him for pissing away his education within a fifteen-second span. Justine explained the avocado grove and Migsy asked why Justine hadn’t thought to bring a box to share with her, and accused her of being uncaring, selfish, and tight-fisted, to which Justine responded that Migsy sounded like a freeloader who should just be grateful that three young people wanted to spend some time with her. At this Migsy exploded in laughter so deep and persistent that Whit had to retrieve a box of tissues.
When the conversation turned to me I recited my usual story about working as a technical writer in Chicago. Migsy asked a handful of questions that were obviously intended to trip me up, but which I thought I handled well. Her mind remained sharp, and I wondered if she remembered as well as I did every moment of our initial encounter at the ice cream shop when she first suggested I might be right for The Summit.
She asked why I hadn’t brought a husband home with me, and I was uncertain whether she understood how difficult it would have been to have a husband and work for The Summit, or whether she knew and she just wanted to hear the explanation that I gave to everyone else in the world. I gave my standard “I’m still young, I don’t want to be tied down, maybe in the near future” speech, and she nodded, said, “Well it seems like you’ve thought a lot about it,” and turned her line of inquiry to Johnny and Justine and their relationship.
After we got caught up, she said, “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. Such nice people. It’s a horrific thing.”
“Thank you,” Johnny said. “We’re obviously still trying to process everything, but it all sort of seems like a dream.”
“What have the police said?”
“Not much of anything,” I said. “They’re supposed to talk to us at some point, but this is the second day we’ve been here and we haven’t heard from them. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. They’ve said that we’ll be the first to know if they have any news, so I assume there’s nothing to report yet.”
“I wouldn’t put too much hope in those people ever getting caught,” she said. “It’s not like the Eutaw police have a lot of experience with murder investigations. They’re a pretty light force, and I’m sure they’re in over their heads on this.”
Justine, Johnny and I all just looked at each other. Johnny wrung his hands, and leaned back in the couch, and I could tell the thought of not finding the people who killed my parents bothered him. Justine rubbed his back and said, “Well we’re hopeful.”
“By all means be hopeful,” Migsy said. “What else do we have in this life if not hope? I don’t be to be too discouraging. I know when times are tough even the faintest glimmer of hope can make a big difference.”
The light airiness of the conversation up to that point had disappeared, and the room felt awkward. I wanted to excuse myself, drive to the police station and demand an update, but Whit spoke up.
“Let me get some drinks for everyone, and then maybe we can move out to the porch. You’ve got to see the sunset from in front of my house, Migsy. Prettiest thing you’ve seen since the last time you looked in the mirror.”
“Whit, that sounds just wonderful, but I need to be going. I don’t like to drive after dark if I can at all help it.”
“My goodness, Migsy, you’re still driving?” Justine asked.
“What the fuck do you mean by that? ‘Still driving?’ Why the hell wouldn’t I drive?”
“For the safety of other people on the road, for starters,” Justine said.
Migsy looked at Johnny. “She’s a keeper, Johnny. Don’t let this woman out of your sight. Absolutely marvelous.”
We all stood up to say goodbye to Migsy, and we were all surprised when she sprang up from her chair. We must not have hid our surprise well because Migsy said, “I told you I’m not old. I can still walk. You should have seen the look on your faces. Fools. Just because I was sitting in a chair when you came into the room doesn’t mean I’m an invalid.”
We said our goodbyes and walked Migsy outside. Before she got in her car she turned back and called to me, “Mia, let’s have lunch tomorrow if you’re free. I can give you the dirt on all your old co-workers from the ice cream shop. Gossip. It’ll be fun.”
“We’ve got the visitation tomorrow night, but I’m free for lunch.”
“Brilliant. Lakeshore Café, eleven-thirty to beat the lunch rush.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
We watched and waved to her as she drove off. Justine and Johnny both remarked about her wit and spryness, and Whit hoped that Justine hadn’t been offended. I enjoyed talking to her, but couldn’t help but wonder the real reason she wanted to meet tomorrow. I suspected we wouldn’t talk about the ice cream shop at all.
14
Chapter 14
Cleo Flume snuck out of the house without her husband, Jake, realizing she’d left. They’d stayed out drinking much too late the previous night, and Jake drank more than she did. When she slid out of bed and into the shower she didn’t disturb his deep, vibrating snores, nor did he stir as she dressed and put on a bit of makeup. Ten minutes later she drove away in the car and looked up at their bedroom window, half-expecting to see Jake looking down, wondering—but actually knowing—where she was off to. Jake continued to snore.
Thirty-five minutes later she made a left turn and proceeded very cautiously to avoid any deer that might be traipsing across the road on the hunt for an early-morning snack. She usually arrived at the cabin late at night. Often she waited for Jake to go to sleep and then simply snuck out of bed, taking advantage of his dead-to-the-world sleeping style. Lately, however, as her desire to see Abner Chamberlain had increased, she’d become more daring. She’d begun inventing excuses to get out of the house, and then offering apologies to Jake when she returned so late. As long as she supported her apologies with reassuring words of her love and devotion, and
sometimes some thrilling, heart-pounding sex, Jake accepted her explanation. She’d never met Abner in the morning though. They’d long talked about arranging a daytime rendezvous, but Cleo had been reluctant since it’d be more difficult to keep it from Jake. Abner had a relentless personality though, and Cleo eventually agreed. They’d planned to spend the morning together inside the cabin, taking advantage of its solitude to temporarily satiate their intense desire for each other. Late in the morning she’d return home with a sandwich from Jake’s favorite restaurant and shower him with kisses, which should be enough to make him feel like a jerk for questioning her whereabouts.
As she rounded a curve and the cabin came into sight, Cleo worried more about what was behind her than what was in front of her. She checked the rearview mirror every few seconds, sure that Jake’s car would appear, and she’d be reduced to trying to explain why she was going to Abner’s cabin. If she ever wanted a real relationship with Abner she knew the affair would have to come to light one day, but she was never ready for that day. That’s why, when she was within a hundred feet of the cabin she still hadn’t noticed Abner’s body. A disinterested party would have seen him on his back, in plain view, on the corner of his property, the only piece of land not obscured by trees. But with her focus on who might follow her, Cleo didn’t see Abner’s body. She parked in Abner’s driveway, which always made her nervous. Despite being tucked into the forest, Cleo had visions of some third party noticing her car and telling Jake where she’d been. When she got out of the car, she looked back down the road, assured herself that she was just paranoid, and used the key Abner had given her to let herself into his cabin.
She expected him to have already showered and to be waiting for her, and when she didn’t see him, she felt a wave of disappointment. She searched the small cabin and called his name, but he didn’t answer. Sure that he was playfully hiding from her, she threatened to leave, and when he didn’t respond, she began to undress, told him that she was naked, and that if he didn’t come out she was putting all of her clothes back on and going home. Not until she was fully dressed again did she begin to worry.
Her search became frantic as she opened every closet door, and looked behind every piece of furniture. His long distance runs through the woods worried her. She had no doubt that some hungry cougar or bear would surely like to make a meal out of him, and as she ran outside to begin searching for him, she was near tears. She walked down the driveway, to the road, and had just decided to search for him by car rather than by foot, when she saw him. On the ground. Near the small sequoia. At first she thought an animal had been hit by a car and crawled to the yard to die, but as she took a couple of steps she saw Abner clearly.
“Oh my God!” she called out, and raced toward him, thinking he’d had a heart attack, or had been mauled by an animal, and that he needed medical attention. The gross angle at which his leg bent made her gasp.
And then she reached his body. She fell to her knees next to him, and as her knees hit the ground she saw his forehead. The small, round hole in the center of his forehead looked hollow. Dried blood covered the perimeter, but the hole itself looked so small and neat that it made no sense to Cleo at first. “What happened?” she said aloud. Not until she looked at his face and saw his wide-open eyes, empty, lifeless, vacant, did she understand. She shrieked, pushed herself backward, away from his body, and fell to the ground, hitting the back of her head on a large branch that littered the yard.
She stood up and looked around, half-expecting a gunman to approach her from behind. The forest began spinning, and she closed her eyes to make it stop. Her breathing became erratic and she felt a tightness in her chest. She looked up in the trees, and back down the road, and toward the cabin, and then back at Abner. Tears flooded her eyes, and after a loud wail, she became silent, the anguish robbing her of any ability to manage her breathing well enough to make a sound.
And then she ran.
First she ran to the cabin, throwing open the door, closing it behind her, leaning against it, trying to shutout the rest of the world. The sound of a cracking limb—a sound not uncommon in her visits to the cabin—instantly alarmed her. Sure that the sound indicated an approaching murderer, Cleo backed away from the door. Her mouth hung open in fear, her knees quivered, and she felt her pulse race in her neck. A second cracking limb jolted her thoughts, and she recognized it for what it was. She felt slight relief, stood up, and cracked the door open. With one eye pressed against the crack she looked outside, hoping to see no one. Then she saw her car, and her concern instantly transitioned from worrying about Abner’s real death and her impending death, to being somewhere she shouldn’t be.
She had to escape. If anyone saw her at Abner’s cabin not only might the affair come to light, but she might become a suspect in his death. Her future with Abner now over, she felt a sudden longing for Jake. She’d always assumed that someday she’d have to discuss the affair with him, a conversation she dreaded. As much as she wanted to be rid of Jake, she didn’t want to hurt him. But standing inside her now-deceased lover’s cabin, Cleo felt guilty. Not only for cheating on Jake, but for how quickly her thoughts turned to self-preservation upon Abner’s death. Less than three minutes. That’s how long she mourned her lover. Seeing her car in the driveway had shaken sense into her. It made her open her eyes, and lifted the fog of shallow lust and fantasy perfection she’d been experiencing with Abner.
She had to get home.
So Cleo took one last look at her surroundings and bolted for her car. She backed out of the driveway and squealed her tires as she drove away. In the rearview mirror she caught a quick glimpse of Abner, dead on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she thought to herself.
When she arrived at the sandwich shop she took a minute to fix her makeup, which had become a mess when mixed with her tears. She didn’t want to appear as frantic as she felt. Calm, cool and relaxed. That’s what she needed to portray. As always, she cleaned up rather nicely, went inside, ordered the sandwich, and attracted nothing but positive attention.
Ten minutes later she arrived home and walked in the door to find Jake sitting on a stool behind the kitchen counter. He had a cup of coffee in front of him, and held his head in his hands. He looked up at Cleo.
“Where’d you go?” he asked.
“I wanted to surprise you. I figured you’d feel like shit this morning so I got you an eight-inch meatball with swiss. It’ll make quick work of the hangover.” Cleo walked over to Jack, stood behind him, and wrapped her arms around his chest. He squeezed and gently kissed her hands.
“You’re too good to me,” he said.
Cleo ran her hands down his chest, over his stomach, and massaged him through his pants. “Let me know when you feel better. We’ve got some unfinished business from last night.”
Jack turned around on his stool, wrapped his arms around his wife, and buried his face in her neck. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, before breaking free, taking Jack’s hand, and leading him toward the living room. As she slipped out of her pants and watched her husband’s face light up, she smiled back at him and said, “I love you.”
15
Chapter 15
When I pulled up to the Lakeshore Café five minutes before our 11:30 lunch date, I saw Migsy already at a booth inside. I walked in and she called out for me so loudly that most of the restaurant turned to look. Migsy ignored them and waved for me to join her. She’d taken a booth in the front corner of the restaurant that was so large it seemed to swallow her. She wore a bright yellow dress that contrasted against the black fake leather of the booth and reminded me of a bumblebee.
“I’m so glad to see you can tell time,” Migsy said. “Most people I meet think 11:30 means 11:35 or noon. Of course most people are world-class assholes, so I guess that shouldn’t surprise me too much.”
“Does that mean I’m not a world-class asshole?” I asked with a smile as I sat down.
“I can’t say for sure. That’s why I want
ed to meet you.”
“To find out if I’m an asshole?” I asked. Migsy didn’t seem to be kidding.
“That’s why I talk to anyone,” she said. “I operate on the assumption that people are assholes until they give me reason to believe differently. Most of the time they don’t end up changing my opinion of them, but every once in a while they surprise me. I suspect you’ll surprise me.”
“I hope so,” I said. Migsy had grown crankier since I knew her well during my high school years. She always struck me as someone who was friendly to everyone, and although much of her grouchiness seemed rather good-natured, she had a mean edge that I’d never noticed before. I attributed the change to her age. Anyone who lives past ninety-years-old has seen enough of the world and the people who live in it that they should have something to complain about.
A waitress came over as soon as I sat down and asked if I wanted a drink. Migsy spoke before I could respond. “We’ll both have a burger with onion rings and I’ll just have water.”
“Actually, I don’t eat meat,” I said. “Can I just get a grilled cheese and a Diet Coke?”
The waitress thanked us and walked away.
“You run off to the big city and all of the sudden you’re too good to eat meat? What kind of bullshit is that? If God didn’t want us to eat meat he wouldn’t have given us these sharp teeth.”
“I just don’t like it,” I said. “The thought of tearing into the flesh of another animal just disgusts me. To say nothing of the idea of eating something that once had a heartbeat. Besides, vegetables are good. We need to eat more of them.”
“I’m ninety-four years old and I eat meat every damn day. It’s good for you. Makes you strong. That’s probably why you’re so tiny. Not enough protein. Start eating meat and maybe you’ll grow, put some meat on those bones.”
“You’re smaller than me,” I pointed out. “Besides, being petite isn’t unhealthy. Would you rather me be obese? I’d have plenty of health problems then.”