The Milkman

by Tabatha Kiss

  I nod. “I think I cracked your code, Tucker.”

  “Of course, I don’t expect that tonight, obviously,” he says, gesturing at me. “In fact, the last thing I expected to find on this road tonight was you, ‘cuz.”

  “Same.” I wrap my jacket a little tighter around me to block out the cold breeze.

  Tucker slides the car into neutral and nods to his truck. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride to Uncle Hank’s.”

  I climb inside and sit still, silently taking in the view. Tucker turns off the highway and we navigate a tight, empty road for a few miles before passing the welcome sign into Clover, Kansas.

  Main Street is dark and empty, as it always was after ten. Local businesses must still close their doors just before eight o’clock, leaving very little — if anything — to do.

  Not much has changed since I left, though I’m not sure why I would expect it to. Tucker glances over at me every so often, no doubt plagued with burning questions but I can’t exactly blame him.

  He slows to a stop on Ninth Street. “This is as far as I can go in this beast,” he says. “Unless I wanna wake the neighborhood beeping backward to try and get out again.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, grabbing my backpack. “I can walk it.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “No, I’ll be all right. It’s Clover, ya know?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Well, it’s really nice to see you, Jovie.”

  “You, too.” I step outside, instantly shivering the second my feet touch the ground. “I’ll stop by the car shop in the morning to fill out paperwork or whatever you guys need.”

  “Uh…” He shifts forward in his seat. “You know, don’t bother. I’ll fill it out for you and call you with updates.”

  “No, I can do it, Tuck.”

  “Well… he works there now.”

  “Oh.” I pause. “He does? Really?”

  “Yeah, for about two years now.”

  I bite my lip. “Okay, then… yeah, you can fill out the forms and stuff for me. That’d be great. Thanks.”

  He gives a short wave. “Say hi to Uncle Hank for me.”

  “I will.”

  I close the door and turn to stare down my old street as the tow truck rides off with my car hanging behind it.

  An eerie calmness washes over me. I suppose if we’re talking traditional definitions, this is my home. I grew up on this street, walked down it every day for twelve years to go to school, but I feel very little connection to it otherwise.

  I start walking down the block, wrapping my jacket a little tighter around me and cursing whoever it was that invented the skirt in the first place. I’ve almost forgotten how chilly it is here in January. There’s still even a little bit of holiday snow stacked up along the curbs.

  And here it is. The house I grew up in. Just me and my dad, for the most part. One story. Two bedrooms. A whole lot of repairs that never quite happened.

  I walk up to the door. It’s late and who knows if my father is even awake but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.

  I tap on the door, knocking softly. A few seconds later, a light flicks on in the living room and my chest tightens.

  The door swings open and my father gawks at me with a beer can in his hand. Gravity has done hell to the bags under his eyes and there’s more silver than brown in his mustache but otherwise, he’s the same as he ever was. Tobacco stench included.

  “Hey, Hank,” I say, forcing a smile.

  He looks me up and down. “Jovie.”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  More wrinkles crease his brow for several long, cold moments. Finally, he turns around without saying anything else and walks off, leaving the door wide open.

  I step inside and close it behind me as my dad topples into his armchair across the living room.

  The same as it ever was, indeed. The carpet is still that awful shade of dark peach, held over from the eighties, at least. Scratched furniture with layers of dust and the same damn couch that’s been sitting there since I was a kid.

  The television blares loudly from the corner with one of those procedural crime shows. I step lightly to the couch and sit down on the edge, tapping my tongue against my teeth.

  “What do you want?”

  I flinch with the sudden growl of his voice. “I just wanted to ask if I could stay here for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. He glares at me from the corner of his eyes. “Not long. Just need to save up some money and I’ll be out of your hair again.”

  His gray eyes flick back to the television. “Rent is three-hundred a month,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. “Or seventy-five a week, whichever works best for you, and you’ll chip in for utilities.”

  I dig my thumbnail into my hand. “All right,” I say. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and see about finding a job but I probably won’t get paid for a few weeks. I might need an extension on the first month.”

  “You know where the spare key is,” he murmurs.

  I stand up. “Thanks… Dad.”

  He gives a passive nod. “Real nice to see you,” he says, his tongue hitting every word like an ice pick.

  Overall, it’s a far warmer welcome than I expected, so I can’t complain.

  I walk out of the living room and enter the hallway, my eyes instantly pausing on the picture frames hung on the wall. Baby pictures of me, mostly. A visual timeline from birth to age three and then nothing after that. My dad wasn’t really interested in keeping up with it, I guess. It must have been Mom’s thing.

  I push open the door to my room and flick on the light. Not a damn thing has changed in here either, save the layer of dust on everything from years of forgotten neglect. Travel books and posters of landmarks across the country. Places I always dreamed about. Anywhere but here.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed and glance around, silently reminding myself that it was all my idea to come back.

  “Home sweet home,” I whisper to myself.

  Two

  Jovie

  You ever have that dream where you’re walking down the street and everyone is staring at you?

  They start to laugh as you pass by, subtly at first, but it gets faster and louder until you finally look down and realize that you’re naked.

  Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

  Except I’m not asleep and I’ve checked three times already to make sure I put on pants before I left Hank’s house.

  No, they’re just staring at me because that’s what people do when your name is Jovie Ross.

  It starts on my street with Mrs. Clark, the pastor’s wife. Her dog barks at me from the porch as I walk by her house. She steps outside, takes one look at me, and bolts right back in, dragging her dog by the collar as she goes.

  I should see this for the omen it is but I keep on walking like an idiot, quickly happening by several other neighbors who more or less do the exact same thing. Some just stare. Slightly fewer wave. One literally clutches the pearls around her neck.

  It’s nice to be remembered, I suppose.

  I hit the town square and walk down Main Street until I reach Trin’s Toy Store on the corner, sandwiched between the bookstore and a coffee shop that wasn’t there when I left. There’s a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign displayed in the window. My lips curl at the small victory. At least I know he’s hiring.

  But is he willing to hire me again?

  Only one way to find out.

  I pull open the door and the entry bell rings above my head.

  “Welcome!” I hear from the check-out counter to the right.

  I catch sight of Mr. Trin himself standing behind it. He doesn’t look up from the small stack of paperwork in front of him, displaying his shiny, bald head to the world.

  I snatch the ‘HELP WANTED’ sign from the window and walk straight toward him, taking wide, purposeful strides until I can lay the sign down in his eye-line.

  He peeks up at me over th
e rims of his glasses and his brow furrows.

  “Absolutely not,” he says.

  “Hi, Mr. Trin.” I deepen my smile. “It’s good to see you!”

  “No.”

  “I would like to talk to you about a jo—”

  “No.”

  I tilt my head. “Please?”

  “The position is for serious applicants only, Jovie.”

  “I am a serious applicant, Mr. Trin.”

  “Serious applicants include those with perfect work histories,” he argues. “Not girls who stop showing up without notice.”

  “I know,” I say, leaning forward. “I was going through something at the time — and I’m really sorry — but that’s all over now…”

  “You left me in a lurch.”

  I hold my hands in prayer between us. “I did and I felt really badly about that.”

  “It took forever to find a decent smock girl again,” he continues. “Then, she left to go have some schmuck’s babies in Topeka.”

  “Well,” I feign a laugh, “I can assure you that I won’t be doing that anytime soon. Or ever. Most likely never. I don’t even know anyone from Topeka.”

  “I’m from Topeka.”

  I inhale a sharp breath and let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, I don’t think Mrs. Trin would like me cracking a joke about having your babies, so I’m just gonna let that one slide…”

  His head shakes. “I’m sorry, Jovie, but I already have interviews scheduled for today.”

  “Cancel them.” He glares at me as he steps around the counter with his papers in hand. “I worked here for over three years. You barely have to even train me. Think of the time save, Mr. Trin. I know how much you value time save.”

  He wanders across the shop toward the office in the back. “The other girls have good resumes,” he says, raising the papers above his head.

  I follow one step behind him. “Yeah? Well, will the other girls arrange the dinosaur figures alphabetically by species?”

  “No, they’ll arrange them by size and color the way they’re supposed to.”

  “Oh...” I pass with him through the doorway. “That’s not very educational.”

  “Hey, hey—” He points over my shoulder at the ‘Employees Only’ sign glued to the door.

  I step back but stay in the frame. “You know, I hung this sign,” I say, rapping my knuckle against it.

  “I know.” Trin collapses into his desk chair. “It fell off twice.”

  “Come on, Mr. Trin.” I sigh. “I’m falling on my sword here.”

  He wavers, flexing his jawline and squinting at me. “I don’t know—”

  “Please,” I beg. “You can start me at minimum wage. I don’t care. My availability is wide open. Days, weekends, holidays. You name it, I’ll be here. I can start today — right now, if you need it. Just… please.”

  Trin rubs his shiny head. “Fine,” he spits. “Seven twenty-five an hour. Ten to close every day with an hour lunch.”

  I raise a brow. “Seven twenty-five? Is that really what minimum wage is now?”

  He glares. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, sir,” I say quickly. “Not at all.”

  “We can talk about raising that if you last six months,” he adds.

  I fill my lungs with relief. “Thank you. That’s perfect. Really. Thank you.”

  He points over my shoulder. “Grab a smock from the back. I assume you remember where they are?”

  “I do.” I spin in a half circle but double back slowly. “So, now that I’m hired… can we discuss a possible fifty dollar advance on my first paycheck?”

  His stern face twitches.

  I surrender my hands and back out of the office. “You’re right. Never mind. No problem. Sorry I asked.”

  “Jovie…”

  I poke my head back in. “Yeah, boss?”

  Trin stands up and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “You can start tomorrow morning,” he says, fishing it open. “I want you here at ten sharp. There are a few things that have changed since you left so we’ll need to go over those.”

  I nod, trying not to stare at his hands. “I’ll be here.”

  He grabs a folder off the desk, paper-clips a fifty dollar bill to the W-2 form inside, and offers it to me. “Fill these out before you come in.”

  I take it from him, once again feeling warm relief fill my chest. “Thank you, Mr. Trin,” I say.

  He pats my shoulder as he passes back onto the shop floor. “Welcome home, kid.”

  My smile deepens. I’d forgotten that he used to call me that. It’s strange how it all comes back. Not just the physical details of a life once lived but the emotions that came with it. I really do feel like shit for leaving Mr. Trin in a bind the way I did. He was one of two people in this town who pretended to give a crap about me, after all.

  The second person? Well…

  That story is much longer.

  And it hurts twice as much.

  Three

  Will

  “You’re all set, Mrs. Clark,” I say, setting her keys on the counter between us.

  She grabs them with an old, wrinkled hand and grins at me. “Thank you, William. Have I mentioned that you’re my favorite grease monkey?”

  “Only every time you come in here.”

  “Oh, good! Because you are.”

  I smile. “Thank you. Remember what I told you about riding your brakes, all right?”

  She leans in. “Remind me again...”

  “Don’t.”

  “Oh, that’s right! I’ll try and remember that, dear.” She turns to leave but pauses with her hand on the counter. “William, you’re still single, right?”

  “Uhh... yes,” I answer slowly.

  Her eyes twinkle. “Have you met my granddaughter, Lillian? I think you’d like her...”

  I shake my head but try to maintain my polite smile. “I’m sure I would, Mrs. Clark, but I’m not really looking to date anyone right now...”

  “Well, you let me know the second that changes. I’ll set you up!”

  “Okay.” I chuckle awkwardly. “Have a nice day!”

  She pushes the door open and slowly walks out, taking her time while my smile tests my face muscles.

  Once she’s gone, I let it fall. “Okay, what is going on here?”

  Tucker glances up from his paperwork at the other end of the counter. “What do you mean?”

  “That is the third woman today to say something like that to me.”

  “You’re complaining?”

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Why?” he asks. “You’re a handsome, eligible bachelor with pretty eyes and a tight tushie. Take the compliment.”

  I stare at him until he finally looks up. “Make that four women.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” he mutters. “You’re probably just imagining it.”

  “Maybe.”

  The entry bell rings and I smile at the one woman in town who will never hit on me. “Hey, Sara.”

  My sister walks over and lays her keys on the counter. “It’s doing that thing again.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  “I don’t know...” She sighs. “It’s making that rattling sound between the back tires and I just don’t have time to deal with this kind of crap right now.”

  I sense her frustration. “All right, we’ll check it out. Everything else okay?”

  Her eyes flick toward Tucker and she lowers her voice. “Yeah, just stressed out a little.”

  “Charlie’s coming home soon, though, right?”

  “No, they extended his deployment. Again.”

  “Really?”

  She pushes her short, brown hair back from her face. “Yeah.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry, Sara.”

  “It’s okay...” She flicks her car keys. “It’s just he usually dealt with this stuff and I feel completely over my head right now.”

  “It’s okay.” I lay my hand over hers. “I’ll handl
e this. We’re a bit backed up today, so it might take a while.”

  “That’s fine. I have some shopping to do for Andy’s birthday this weekend and an eye appointment that I’ve rescheduled twice already, so just call when you figure it out, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Oh— you’re still available to take him Saturday morning before the party, right?”

  I nod. “Of course. Drop him off whenever and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help out.”

  She throws on a smile. “Actually, Will, now that you mention it, what are you doing after the party?”

  “No plans. Why?”

  “You remember my friend, Cindy Sumner, right?”

  I pause. “No.”

  “Oh, come on. Yes, you do. We went to high school with her. She was a year behind me — a year ahead of you. Blonde hair. Gorgeous eyes.”

  I squint. “I remember a Bryan Sumner.”

  “Yes!” She points. “Cindy is his sister.”

  Tucker laughs. “Didn’t you beat the shit out of him junior year?”

  Sara rolls her eyes. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, I did,” I confirm.

  Her mouth sags. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was a dick.”

  “Anyway…” She clears her throat. “Cindy’s been asking about you and I thought that maybe you could get together for coffee or something after the party…”

  “No, thanks,” I say, grabbing her keys off the counter.

  “Why not?” she pouts.

  “I’m not interested.”

  “But—”

  I jingle her keys. “I’ll call you when we figure out the rattling noise, okay, Sara?”

  She exhales, giving up. “Okay, fine. I’ll ask you again later.”

  “I won’t be interested later, either…”

  “You might be!”

  “Nope. Bye, Sara.”

  “Bye!”

  I wait until she steps outside. “Okay, you saw that, right?” I twist toward Tucker. “Tell me you saw that.”

  “I saw that,” he says, nodding slowly. “Since when does she try and set you up with her friends?”