by Amy Stinnett
I called the vet, and she said to give it a day or two and come in during walk-in hours if there wasn’t a huge improvement.
February 8, 2013
I check on Elliot at the hospital every day. He has not been more than shouting distance from his mom since the day she went in. I asked him if there was anyone to call, family, church? But he said, “Nope. I’m the only one she has left.”
I have been going to the library in the afternoons, and I see Jodie there a lot. She gave me her number in case I needed help, and I am trying hard to not read anything into her kindness. I mean, her dad was there when she gave me her number. It is hard, though, because she is so cute. She looks like one of those cowgirl calendar girls, you know, with the wholesome smile, like they just drank a glass of milk and helped a kid tie their shoelaces. Only, Jodie seems to have an edge to her. I think about her a lot. And I am starting to feel isolated and out of touch with my friends. I texted a few friends back in Seattle but only got one of them on the line for a few minutes. My phone kept cutting out. Did Dad feel this lonely?
Oh, Frodo is doing fine. Guess who has a new house pet? Yep, I took him in and the vet said it would be risky putting him back outside in this cold after having him inside for so long. He is a good dog, though. Hasn’t “made” in the house since that first night. Vet thinks he’s about seven. He was neutered when Dad took him in about three years ago. He likely has a bad sprain, so he just needs time.
February 9, 2013
I went into Boise, and Nate got me set up for the part time gig with his radio station. It will be pretty close to the same thing I’m doing for the non-profit. This is great! They found a house they liked, but it already had an offer on it. They may end up waiting for spring, when most people put houses on the market.
A website I worked on last year finally paid me for my services! I didn’t think they would ever pay, so it was a complete surprise. Perfect timing. Dad has enough food, good food, around here for about twenty years, but I am getting a little tired of jams and crackers. Everything else has to be thawed or cooked in the slow cooker. And I was getting low on gas money. Liv would kill me, but I bought three bags of Combos – one pizza, one cheddar, and one regular, whatever that means, when I picked up a few things at the store. I got a gargantuan Mountain Dew from the convenient store on the way home and then I passed out on the couch. I’m sure the two things aren’t related, though.
Also, I cannot stop thinking about Ton-Ton. Was there more to her than I remember? It is driving me crazy.
February 10, 2013
Elliot’s mom passed away this morning. I found him sitting on the curb of the hospital driveway, and it was about forty-five degrees. I parked the car, went over, and sat down beside him.
“Hey.”
No response. We stared out across the road, watching our breath float away in the periphery and then disappear.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And it was probably the wrong thing to say, because Elliot let out a jagged breath and he just fell apart. His whole body shook, and he leaned forward, trying to hide his outburst. I scooted closer, trying to comfort him, but I wasn’t sure if I should put my arm around him or not. I finally did, and he calmed down. I saw the shawl wadded up and sticking out of his jacket pocket.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, once he could speak. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and pulled his t-shirt collar up to wipe his nose.
“It’s okay.” I was beginning to shiver, and I noticed him doing the same. “You want to go sit in my car?”
He nodded, and we went and sat inside, letting the heater blow full blast.
I realized that Elliot was now alone. Not alone like me, with no father and a mother starting a new family in another state, an ex-girlfriend who no longer cares about her. No, Elliot has no one. He has lived with his mom for decades, and now she’s gone. He has no father, no siblings, no girlfriend, no exes, or children, that I am aware of. Just a handful of neighbors.
He didn’t want to go back into the hospital, so we left. We got some drive-thru hamburgers, and I drove him home. He said he would be okay. I felt uneasy, but I had to trust him.
February 13, 2013
I have had a cold for the last few days, but I did the bare minimum to take care of the animals.
Elliot did not leave his house for two days (I went by there a few times to make sure he was alright), but he came out this morning and fixed a few of the things I messed up. (I dropped a hay hook down into the feeder and couldn’t reach it, and I apparently unplugged one of the heaters for the chicken water and it froze over.) Anyway, he is doing better. His mom’s funeral is on Friday. So that’s two funerals for me (and Elliot) in less than two months. That’s got to be some sort of record.
The bright side is Frodo. His foot is a little tender, but he is walking normally. He’s been my little buddy all this time. I can open the door, and he will run out and go do his business and come right back in. Amazing!
February 14, 2013
I am feeling a little better. I ran my usual chores, worked at the library for a few hours, had a good conversation with Jodie about books, and stopped by the farm supply store to get some boot laces, and this little exchange occurred.
As I stood in line, I could feel somebody watching me, so I turned around. A sawed-off redneck was staring me down.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Oh, shit, it’s a girl. Sorry, I thought you was a queer.”
“Well, I am, by the way.”
“Naw, I mean a queer boy. You mean you a lesbian?” He snickered.
I had just about had it when the cashier said, “Next, please!”
I handed her the laces and threw a glare at idiot boy, who was still giggling like some sort of teenage moron.
I got my change and receipt and decided to leave the store without further trouble.
“Now, Shirley, you stop that crap right now.” I turned back to see the cashier calling him out for being a jerk.
“Shirley? Ha!” I said so he could hear, then left the building.
As I was pulling away, idiot boy slinked off around the corner and down the street. The cashier must have really had his number.
The whole exchange left me feeling good, both that the cashier had called him out and that I stood up for myself. But when I got home, I looked at the calendar and realized it was Valentine’s Day. Yet, here I was, alone. I know it’s just an arbitrary day, but I didn’t get a heart from anybody. I’m sappy like that. I called Mom.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Muffled noise. “Hang on a minute, sweetie … okay, okay, I’m here.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom!”
“Oh, happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Did you have a good day?”
“Not really, but it’s okay. Elliot’s out and about again. And Frodo’s doing better.”
“Now, remind me who Frodo is.”
“The dog, Mom.”
“Oh, that’s right. Hey, I love you, sweetie, but I have to get the baby ready for bed.”
“Doesn’t the baby have a mother?” I had to admit, I was starting to feel a little neglected for an only child.
“Yes, but she gets a night off sometimes. I wish I’d had the night off from time to time. Anyway, got to go. I love you!”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Click.
I took a video at random from my Dad’s stash and shoved it in the DVD player. It was a blow ‘em up movie. I took out the card Jodie gave me and turned it over and over in my hand. I had already memorized her number, and I hadn’t even called her once.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Ton-Ton: Hey, girl. I’ve been trying to FaceTime you.
Oh, crap. I stared at the screen, not knowing what to do.
Ton-Ton: ?
Me: Sorry, no internet here.
The phone rang.
“Hey, girl!” In baby talk, “I miss oo.”
“I miss y
ou, too.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Just taking care of some family stuff. A friend of the family died, and her son is taking it pretty hard.” I was being intentionally vague, but with enough information to hopefully keep her from prying.
“Oh, that’s so sad.” Did she always sound like a bad pre-school teacher?
“Yeah, it is. So what’s up?”
“I wanted to wish you a happy Valentine’s Day. You know, I still think about you all the time.”
“I don’t want to hash that out again, Ton-Ton. I think we’re better off apart. Aren’t you happier now with Rex, or whatever his name is?”
“He’s okay, beebs, but he’s no snuggle-bunny buddy.” Oh, god, what did I ever see in her?
“I should probably go. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Are you going to stay there forever, or are you coming back? I bet your dad’s place sells the second you put it on the market.”
“Huh? I never mentioned my dad’s place to you.”
“Well, no, I think Kelly said something.”
Kelly was one of the friends I had texted. I was beginning to suspect that Ton-Ton thought I had money. I wanted to tell her she was barking up the wrong tree, that I was so broke I was joyous just to get some snacks and a soda as a treat. That she should crawl into a hole and die, like I wanted to do. But I didn’t.
“I gotta go.”
“Talk soon.”
Now it was my turn to hang up on someone. Click.
I wanted to scream. Instead, I cried, angry that I hadn’t told Ton-Ton off. I think I scared little Frodo, but he hopped up on the couch, anyway, and licked my face.
“At least you like me for me,” I told him. He tilted his head, then licked me again. Then he curled himself up and laid his head on my lap. At least he can’t call me a snuggle-bunny buddy.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frodo.”
February 21, 2013
Emmett Public Library is bigger than you would expect. When you first walk in, there is a vestibule with books and magazines for sale or donation. I found a book on programming (an old edition of Code Complete) and, oddly enough, a copy of a Manga novel I used to read, Death Note. The rest of the building is divided up into several sections for kids’ books, fiction, non-fiction, desks, and computers. The tour ends with a sitting area full of overstuffed couches and chairs. There is an overall homey feeling to it. I bet a lot of cookbooks have been written here.
I have learned to get here early and do the things that take a lot of concentration before the kids show up after school. I’ve worked in a lot of busy restaurants and coffee shops, but ten-year-olds playing pew-pew games, all breathy and excited after being penned up all day, is just not conducive to quality work.
Today, before the kids even had a crack at me, I had to listen to a couple of brain dead morons go on and on about Obama being the ruination of America. I had almost tuned them out completely when I noticed one of them looking at pictures of Michele and saying nasty comments, calling her an animal. I’m not very political, but I almost lost it. Fortunately, Jodie was nearby and caught my attention. I saved my work and met her in the front.
“Did you hear what he was saying?!”
“Yes, I did.”
“How do you put up with that?”
“I don’t know. As long as they aren’t loud, we can’t really do anything.”
“Is that what people are like around here?”
“No. Well, there are a lot of people like that. Some don’t know any better; they’re usually older and just believe what they hear on talk radio.” She leaned towards me. “Others, like those brain trusts, are just assholes that don’t know which way to wipe.”
I let out a loud “Bah-ha,” surprising even me.
“Shhh.”
“Well, aren’t you the librarian?”
“Ha-ha. How’s Elliot?”
“Doing a little better. He’s back out at the farm about every other day.”
“Oh, good. Hey, don’t you have dogs to take care of?”
“Yeah, Frodo’s actually in the car.”
“Oh, I wanna see him.”
She followed me out to the car and Frodo danced around in the seat, happy to see both of us. I got in and rolled down the window, and Frodo hopped in my lap and lay over the door sill. Jodie scratched him behind the ears, grabbed his paws, and stood him up. He did not seem to mind.
“Hello, Mr. Frodo,” she said in a baby voice. I had fleeting flashbacks of Ton-Ton. Then to me in a normal tone, she said, “You want to help me exercise the horses on Saturday?”
“I have not really ridden much. Or should I say, at all.”
“No problem, they’re very gentle.”
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
“Early, early?”
“Actually, I can’t get over there until the afternoon. Would that be okay? I could bring some lunch with me.”
I thought about two nanoseconds on it. “Okay.”
She stopped dancing Frodo around by his front paws, kissed him on the nose, and put him down. “Got to go. See you here tomorrow.” She booped Frodo on the nose for punctuation.
“See you.”
February 22, 2013
It sleeted and snowed last night, so we had a mushy mess to clean out of the driveway and out to the gates. Dad does have a small tractor, nothing fancy. It has a big box attached to it to move stuff, and it was a lot of fun smushing the snow around with it. Elliot showed me a couple of tricks, and I was off like a mad wombat. Elliot must have thought I was a nut, but he laughed when the tractor lurched forward and I almost got whiplash.
We had lunch, one of my dad’s chicken soup creations, and Elliot asked me to come over for dinner.
“If you don’t mind the place, Sheila’s church folks gave me too much food. ‘Sides, it’s odd not having anybody there all the time.”
“I know what you mean.”
“What, you got me, Bill, Jodie. That’s a lot.”
“I’m used to having a lot more people around.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Want me to bring anything?”
He nodded across the room. “You could bring a movie if you want. I used to watch movies ever’ now and then with Dan.”
My dad’s name hung in the room for a minute. I had a little pang of something that felt a lot like regret.
I got over to Elliot’s house about five. Like a wimp, I drove, because I didn’t want to slog back over in the dark. I gave Elliot the movie I’d picked out, Shane.
He had been frying up some onions and mushrooms, and his trailer smelled amazing. “I hope you like casserole ‘cause that and rolls is what they give me.” He poured the contents of his pan over two plates full of broccoli and casserole. “I’m not complaining. I froze up a bunch of single servings, so I’m set through March, most likely. It dries up like that, and the onions wake it back up.”
He set the pan on the back burner. “Couch or table?”
“Your call.”
We grabbed our plates and both headed for the living area. Elliot set his plate on the coffee table, grabbed the DVD, popped it in, then sat back in his recliner to eat.
I thought about the few times I’d been at Elliot’s house when his mom was in the hospital. I had not been past the turnoff for the farm before, but after a quick survey, I finally deduced that two of the three trailers in the gravel driveway were uninhabited, and the larger trailer on the end was theirs. The door was unlocked but guarded by a fat tabby cat who rolled over in the floor in front of me, inviting me to pet her enormous belly. While I obliged her, I glanced around at their tidy kitchen and living room, with its huge olive green couch. Next to it was a brown Naugahyde recliner, and a table covered with about six inches of Idaho Statesman and Messenger-Index newspapers. On the wall opposite the couch a portrait hung of a young man in a Marine uniform, the frame had a gold plate that simply read Recon 1992. I examined it more closely. It had
to be Elliot, clean shaven and looking proud and stoic. Wow!
Sitting on the sofa, I examined the picture again. It was still impressive, but it just didn’t look like him.
“Is that you?” I pointed with my fork.
“Used to be.”
“Hmm.” Elliot offered no explanation. “Were you in the service for a while?”
“Marines. A long time ago.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“I went to Panama. I was Recon, and I saw some awful things. I didn’t do so well when I came back. My unit took a pretty bad hit and I kind of got messed up in the head in more ways than one.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I’m okay. A lot of guys I knew didn’t even make it back to complain about shit, so how can I? But for a long time I was scared to leave this house. I’d get where I was dizzy and I couldn’t breathe. I even passed out once. It happened while I was driving. So I just gave up driving. I’ve been doing better for a long time. Working on the farm helps me a lot.”
I let his words sink in for a moment.
“So what would you do if I sell the farm?”
“Oh, I can get work. Don’t worry about it. Somebody always needs grunt work done. I help Miss Sheila. I can keep busy. I have disability, and it’s enough to get by on.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I get a check ‘cause of the …”
Just then, the big fat tabby came scooting across kitchen, flapping her belly and paws across the floor like a mad animal.
“What the?! Pork Chop!” The cat did a stunt roll onto her back at Elliot’s feet, holding a mouse in between her paws. She got distracted by me and Elliot, and the mouse hopped onto my lap. My empty plate clattered to the floor as I hopped up to shoo the thing off me. Then the cat scampered away to parts unknown, with the mouse headed straight for the kitchen.
I looked over at Elliot, still firmly seated in his chair, and he burst out laughing. Still cringing from the up close and personal vermin visit, I began to laugh, too.
“Sorry.” I picked up my plate and fork and took them to the kitchen sink, checking the floor for the miscreant. Elliot was still grinning when I came back. “Pork Chop?”