Beyond Deserving

by Sandra Scofield

  “You know what you forgot? You forgot you had a family. You forgot you had kids.”

  “Did not!”

  “You forgot the rule: calm before the storm.”

  “That one, maybe I forgot.”

  “It just goes on all around us, Ursie. It’s what our lives are about right now. In the middle, though, it’s you and me. And there’s nothing wrong with us.”

  “Have you noticed?” she asks. “The only place we seem to talk is in bed.”

  “It’s one place to catch each other. And it isn’t all we do.”

  “Oh Michael, if you ever stop liking me—you know what I mean—if you ever stop wanting me—just shoot me, okay?”

  “I’ll do better than that,” Michael says. “I’ll move you to the basement.”

  56

  The end of June falls in the middle of the week. Katie goes with Fish to the house to see if the renters are out. When Michael called to talk to them about returning the deposit, they said they’d be in touch, like they didn’t have any plans. Fish is very edgy. He wants out of the basement and into his own place again. He has been wanting to go out there for days, but Michael says that since the lease is through the last day of the month, Fish doesn’t really have the right to enter the house. Be patient, Michael cautions. Even if it is your house.

  The family has a supper of cold cuts, and then Fish insists that Michael call to see if the house will be ready for him the next day. There is no answer. “I’m going out there and see what’s going on!” Fish raves. Rhea listens, wide-eyed. “Can I go?” she says. “I haven’t seen your house.”

  Katie can see Ursula chewing the inside of her cheek, but she says, “We’ll all three go,” anyway. What can happen? She’ll be there to tug at Fish’s sleeve if she needs to.

  The weather has been very hot, and at seven in the evening the day has not even begun to cool. The hills are parched and brown, but as they near the area of the house, they pass property thick with vines and bushes, and graced with trees, kept green by ample underground water. The house itself sits back enough that it is shaded through the summer, a pleasant bonus in hot weather. In winter it can be dreary.

  They find Carol Lee in the front yard with a hoe.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Fish yells as soon as he is out of the truck.

  Carol looks up rather blithely. “I’m cutting weeds,” she says. There is a large round patch in front of her, staked with tomato vines, and a couple of hillocks with squash or melons.

  “What’s the point of planting what you can’t pick?” Katie says. Fish is looking about wildly, stomping a few steps in one direction and then another. Rhea stays behind them, near the truck.

  “I’ve been out here a lot,” Carol says. “I had this real need to get my hands in the dirt, you know? Like, it’s you guys moving in, why not? You don’t like tomatoes? Zuchs? Sugar babies?”

  “Are they spending the night here?” Fish asks.

  “Oh sure,” Carol says. She motions over her shoulder. “They’re in the back yard.”

  Fish heads off around the house. Katie knocks on the front door, and when there is no answer, slowly opens it to look inside. There isn’t any sign of an imminent move. There isn’t a box in sight. She turns and says to Rhea, “Maybe you should wait in the car, honey.” Rhea looks at her, starts to say something, then turns around and goes back to the truck.

  “They haven’t even started packing,” Katie says to Carol Lee, back in the yard. Carol Lee shrugs. “You all have to move,” Katie tells her. “It’s my house, too. I’m moving back with Fish.”

  “Cool,” Carol says nonchalantly.

  Katie goes to the truck and tells Rhea, “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to go get Fish and we’ll leave. You stay here.” The child nods solemnly.

  In the back, Prudence is on her knees on a blanket, pulling a basket toward her in which a baby lies. The other baby is on Prudence’s shoulder. Sky and Fish are over under the light at the back door.

  “It’s the fucking END OF THE MONTH!” Fish yells.

  “Man, you SAID that!” Sky yells back.

  “Man, you’re supposed to be OUT.” Fish throws open the shed door and pulls out a bottle. He turns around menacingly. “Out!” he says.

  Sky takes a step back. “Put the bottle down. Hey, there are babies here.”

  “Fish!” Katie cries. She’s never seen him in a fight. He is more inclined to flee.

  Fish throws the bottle against the back fence. It cracks and falls to the ground. “You be glad I don’t have a gun,” he says, but he has lost his momentum.

  “My mom’s house isn’t ready,” Prudence whines.

  “Why didn’t you say? This isn’t fair,” Katie complains.

  “You’ve got a month’s deposit!” Sky says. “We’ll get out as soon as we can.”

  “A deposit isn’t rent,” Katie says. “If you’re here tomorrow, you owe us rent.”

  “Sky called the county. It’ll take you a month to get us out,” Prudence says. She sits back on her heels.

  “HELL YOU SAY!” Fish screams. He grabs Sky’s arm. Sky seems to go limp. Maybe, Katie thinks, he imagines Fish is a bear. “I’m moving in on Saturday,” Fish says. “It’s my fucking BIRTHDAY.”

  “Where are we supposed to GO?” Prudence wails. Both babies start screaming. Prudence lays the baby from her shoulder to the blanket, and just looks at it turning red and howling.

  “Go to your mother’s,” Katie says.

  “Go to fucking HELL!” Fish yells.

  Sky pulls away from Fish. “Get off this property or I’ll call the sheriff.”

  Fish laughs an ugly laugh. “It’ll take him a fucking long time to get here, wimp.”

  “Let’s go, Fish,” Katie says. “Rhea’s in the car.”

  He looks at her and his expression changes from anger to bewilderment. It isn’t fair at all, Katie thinks. It’s just what you could expect, but it isn’t fair.

  Fish bangs the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. “MotherFUCKERS,” he mutters.

  Rhea starts to sniffle.

  “It’s all right,” Katie says. She sits on the floor behind the seats. “We’ll go get some ice cream. Okay, Fish?”

  He starts the truck and backs out, tires screeching. “Michael’s supposed to be taking care of this,” he says.

  “I doubt there’s anything Michael can do. But he’ll know. Ask him in the morning, Fish. Let’s go to my place now. We’re tired.”

  Rhea turns in her seat to look for Katie. “I didn’t get to see the house.”

  “No baby, the people aren’t out yet,” Katie says. “In a few days, maybe.” She hopes Rhea isn’t going to cry.

  “When are we going to Crater Lake, Fish?” Rhea asks.

  Fish lights a cigarette before he answers. “Sometime,” he says.

  “When do I go back?” Rhea asks Katie. She leans toward Fish. “It’s soon,” she says.

  “Tuesday, baby,” Katie says. Her throat aches.

  Fish takes a couple of long drags and then he says, “I’ve got work to do the next couple days. We’ll go Sunday or Monday. We’ll go.” Although Katie doesn’t think Fish means to be unkind, he speaks harshly, and she reaches up to pat Rhea’s arm. She thinks it is too bad Rhea came along. Ursula should have spoken up.

  Fish gives Rhea and then Katie a disgusted look and pushes the accelerator. “It’s just a hole in the ground,” he says.

  By the time they are back in town, Fish has cooled off. He stops at a store and buys a half-gallon of burgundy, then goes to a drive-in and buys Rhea a soft ice cream cone. Rhea licks at it unenthusiastically.

  “Hey Fish, let’s go to my apartment,” Katie says. “I want to show you something.” She leans over and takes a lick of Rhea’s ice cream. “But you can’t look, because it’s a surprise,” she tells her daughter.

  “What is it?” Rhea asks. She brightens immediately.

  “If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise. It�
�s not quite ready.”

  “When do I see it?”

  “Saturday. After the parade.”

  “Oh boy.” Rhea begins to eat the ice cream.

  They pull into Katie’s parking lot and Fish leaves the truck idling. “Aren’t you coming in?” Katie asks. “Aren’t you going to stay?” She thinks it is very important that they stay together to make Fish feel better. She doesn’t want him to go off and get drunk. She wants him to work it out with her.

  “Michael and I are going to the house at six, before it’s so hot. I’ll sleep over there.”

  Katie feels a hot blast of anger. He’s going to go pout, she thinks, and never mind about Rhea and me. If every time something goes wrong, Fish wants to be alone, what will become of them if they have real trouble?

  She follows Rhea out of the truck, and then goes around to Fish’s side to speak to him. “Turn it off and come in. Please?”

  He turns the Econoline off. “I’m in a foul mood now.”

  “Katie?” Rhea whispers urgently, from a few feet away.

  “Wait, okay?” Katie says to Fish. “Let me talk to her. Maybe we’ll come back with you. Maybe she’d rather sleep there.” There’s a bed for Rhea at Ursula’s, Katie thinks. How can she be with Fish if Rhea stays?

  Fish reaches for his sack with the wine bottle. “I’ll wait,” he says, and unscrews the cap.

  At the apartment door, Rhea holds up the remains of her cone. “I don’t want anymore,” she says.

  “Just a minute and you can throw it away.”

  “I feel kinda sick.”

  Katie swings the door open. “Here,” she says, and takes the cone. “You want to go use the bathroom?”

  Rhea goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. Katie throws the cone away, stands in the kitchen a moment, then goes through the apartment switching on lights. She opens the front door and steps across the hall to tap at Maureen’s door.

  Maureen is watching Three Men and a Baby on her VCR.

  “Oh good, you’re home,” Katie says. “Can you come over for just a minute and watch Rhea?”

  “While what?”

  “I just need to talk to Fish. He’s in a bad mood and he’ll scare her, but I need to talk to him.” She sees Maureen’s critical look. “He’s not drunk or anything.”

  Maureen switches off her tv and follows Katie back across the hall. “Rhea,” Katie says at the bathroom door, “you okay, honey?”

  Rhea’s small voice says, “I think so.”

  “Maureen from across the hall is here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go, Katie!” Rhea says. “Oh,” she says. “Ohhh.”

  “Do you want me to come in?” Katie asks. If Rhea throws up, it’ll make Katie sick, too.

  “No!” Rhea answers. Very quietly she says, “I’m okay. It stinks.”

  Katie grins and looks at Maureen, but Maureen is unsmiling. “So go see Fish,” Maureen says.

  As soon as Katie is in the truck, Fish says, “I’m sorry if I scared her. I’m sorry. I just want my house back. I want my life back.”

  “I know,” Katie whispers. “Me, too.”

  “Do you?” he asks. He puts the cap back on the bottle and sets it behind the seat. “Do you want our life back?”

  “Not the way it was.”

  “How was it?”

  “I didn’t ever know what was going to happen next.”

  “Who ever knows?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d leave, if you’d come back.”

  Fish reaches over and pulls her to him. He puts his hands in her hair, on her neck, on her breasts. He touches her like a man who’s been away. It makes her want to feel the whole length of him against her. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

  She puts her arms around him, awkwardly straddling the gear box, Fish says, “Let’s get in the back.”

  They lie close together on the bed. “Michael and I are going to build a house to sell,” he says. “Later in the summer, after we finish this job.” Katie doesn’t much care. “And we’ll move back in our house, and out from under Michael and Ursula.”

  She kisses him. She says, “I’ve got to go back inside and see about Rhea.”

  “Could she stay? Could she live with us?”

  “No way,” Katie says. She feels about to cry. The only thing to stop the tears is Fish. “Touch me,” she says. She tugs at his waistband. “Stay with me the night.”

  “What about Rhea?” he says.

  “You and me,” she says. In a moment both of them have their jeans around their knees. In a tangle of clothes and legs, they come together. Katie holds on tight, her hands hard on his back. “Fish and Katie,” she says when they’re still. “You and me.”

  She goes back inside but Rhea and Maureen aren’t there. She walks over to Maureen’s. Rhea is curled up beside her on the couch, asleep. The movie is on at very low volume. Maureen glares at Katie.

  “Gosh, thanks,” Katie says. She puts her arms out toward Rhea.

  Maureen brushes Rhea’s hair back off her forehead and ignores Katie’s outstretched arms. “Let her sleep. I’ll bring her over in a while.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She had one hell of a case of diarrhea, which I’d bet was brought on by something the two of you pulled. She cried for ten minutes, without saying anything. Can’t you keep it together for the time she’s here? What’s wrong with you, Katie?”

  “Maybe she was sick because of something Ursula COOKED.” Katie trembles with anger. “What business is it of YOURS?”

  “I’m the neighbor you handed her to, remember? I’m the one you parked her with.”

  “God, it was just for a few minutes, I didn’t know you’d mind.”

  “Were you fighting? Is that it? Don’t you know kids KNOW?” Maureen says furiously.

  “We weren’t fighting! We went out to the house and the renters were still there. Fish got into a scene with them. It’s THEIR fault.”

  “She’s just a little kid, Katie,” Maureen says. “She’s just a baby, in your way.” She doesn’t sound so angry now. She just wants to lecture a little.

  “I’ve made her a twirler’s outfit,” Katie says. “With fake fur on the skirt. It’s a surprise.”

  Maureen looks at Katie as if Katie were speaking another language.

  “She’s had a good time!” Katie says.

  Maureen slides her arm out from behind Rhea. Rhea slumps against the side of the couch, sound asleep. Maureen comes over by Katie. “Until she’s gone, you have to put her first, do you understand?” Katie nods. This is humiliating. Maureen has turned into Katie’s mother! “If you’ve got some trouble with Fish, it can wait.”

  Katie raises her chin. “I don’t have any trouble with him,” she says. “The trouble was with the creeps who haven’t left our house.”

  “Listen, kid,” Maureen says. “I think the trouble may be with you.”

  Katie turns on one heel and returns to her apartment. It’s two or three minutes before she realizes what she should have said. She should have said, “I didn’t leave her by a lake, did I?” but now it’s too late, the moment is past.

  Besides, she can hear what Maureen could say. Maybe you didn’t leave her by the lake, but you sure were in the bushes, weren’t you?

  57

  Ursula comes home from the parade before the last float has made its torturous way down the boulevard. The others will go down to the park to the booths, and eat lunch there, but she wants to get the food ready for the afternoon, before the day grows hotter.

  She tells herself hot weather beats rain on the Fourth of July. She wonders if Michael minds turning forty-five. Probably not. It’s Fish who might ponder what it means.

  Gully and Geneva will come later to join the family, and Ursula has invited Angela and her husband, a couple of teachers from Michael’s school, Teresa and Teresa’s brother, who is visiting from New York. The yard looks good; Michael must have leaned hard on Carter to get all the brush and trash
picked up and hauled off. Ursula bought eight metal lawn chairs, some white, some black, on sale at Bi-Mart, and the pleasant shade on the deck will be a blessing. Michael has cleaned out the two barbecue grills and set them up, and Ursula has set several pots of flowers on the deck, for color.

  She makes herself a large glass of iced tea, cuts open a cantaloupe, and begins scooping out balls. She will wrap them with lengths of prosciutto, as Carter reminded her not so long ago. Last night she made cream puffs. She has vegetables to trim and slice, a dip to make, four kinds of cheeses, hamburger to which she’ll add teriyaki sauce and a lot of garlic, chicken to marinate in her lemon glaze, and loaves of French bread she brought from Safeway on the way home.

  She is upstairs changing into shorts when she hears a car at the curb. She hears voices in the basement, and then the door down there slam, then the car again. It sounds like Fish’s truck. Maybe he and Katie have something to do before they come back, she thinks.

  It isn’t until a couple of hours later, when Katie, Michael, and the kids arrive, that they realize Rhea and Fish have gone off without telling anyone where they are going or for how long. Ursula asks Michael, “Could he have gone to get your folks?” but a phone call confirms that Gully is planning to drive out about four.

  “It could be anything,” Katie says impatiently. “What’s everybody so uptight about? It’s not like Fish can’t drive. It’s not like they’re strangers, is it?” Two hours later she says, “He got some feather up his ass to do something and couldn’t bother to tell us.” By six, she’s threatening to call the police. Michael says if they’re not back by dark, he’ll start looking. Katie sits in the breakfast nook, drinking one beer after another, slowly. Ursula goes through the motions of the afternoon, uneasy and bitter, but determinedly cheerful; her guests don’t have to know that something is wrong. They can think Katie is sullen. They can think she likes to drink alone.

  Fish leaves the freeway and drives fast past two shopping centers, car lots and warehouses, fast food places, and then fields of grass and scrub, with stands of huge trees around old farmhouses. On a rise someone has built a new log house, the color of cinnamon, and here and there trailers sit on bare ground, looking hot and lonely. Fish doesn’t slow down or talk until the road narrows to two lanes and takes them through little towns along the river. Rhea is admiring the shimmer of light on the water, and the places where the water ripples and foams white when Fish says, “We’re almost at the folks’ house, see, up around that curve.” He points.