South of Main Street

by Robert Gately

  Henry showed no sign of remembering.

  “I gave you a heads up the other day, don’t you remember? I told you I would have to do this.” She inserted another twenty-dollar bill into an envelope.

  Henry shrugged his shoulders, nodded.

  Robin sighed as she reached for the mail she just brought in. She opened the letter from the courthouse, read it silently, then placed it in front of Henry.

  “It says here that your money is being frozen temporarily.”

  Henry got up from the table and walked to the cupboard for cat food.

  “Dad, you need to listen to me.”

  “I have to feed Hootie. After this.”

  “After this …”

  “Yes. After this.”

  Agh! Those words, ‘after this’, had an old familiar ring to them. Once, when he and Sharon were playing Chinese checkers, Robin asked her Dad to help with her arithmetic homework. But, he had been too busy playing with Sharon. “After this,” he had told her and continued playing. Always too busy playing with Sharon.

  Robin had gone to her room, sobbing. Mom had come in wanting to know what the matter was. That was the night Mom explained Dad liked playing games with Sharon more than helping Robin with homework, not because he loved Sharon more, but because he could play games well, and doing math homework was a challenge. That was the beginning of her awareness that her father would always be different from other dads. But no matter what her mother would tell her, Robin knew that Dad loved Sharon more, or best. That’s the way it was, and Robin had to find a way to deal with it.

  “After this,” Henry repeated.

  Hootie came running at the ‘snap’ sound of the can opening. Henry took his time dishing out the food. Finally, he sat back down at the table.

  “How do you feel about this?” Robin asked. “Do you care that your daughter is taking you to court?”

  “Sharon was always a hurting child,” Henry said.

  Robin, stunned by this remark, leaned forward and held her father’s hand. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I could tell when she was born, and especially as she grew older. It was in her eyes. There was fear in her eyes and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

  “That’s funny, Dad. I remember her as a happy child. Always laughing.”

  “Yeah. True. But she still had that fear in her eyes.”

  Robin never knew Dad felt this way about Sharon. In fact, she always thought that her sister was a happy child but, now that Dad mentioned it, maybe she did seem a little vulnerable when they were growing up.

  “You know. I graduated from community college back in the sixties.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “And I married your mom right after graduation and we spent two glorious weeks on the beaches of Hawaii.”

  “I know that, too. Mom told me.”

  Mom had told her on many occasions how smart Dad was, but he never pursued an education when he got home from the service. He could’ve been whatever he wanted to be if things happened differently when he came home from the war. Robin silently grieved for not having ever knowing that part of her father.

  Robin looked into his eyes and saw a person within a person. Someone hiding. She saw a man who gave her mother ‘two of the most exciting weeks’ she ever spent in her life. She sensed the man her mother loved and never forgot.

  Yes, how things would’ve been different if he hadn’t gone into the army two days after the honeymoon, Robin thought to herself. Her mother told her with pride how he served his country by fighting against communism in the small country called Grenada and how he had been awarded the Silver Star Medal for bravery for saving lives during a helicopter crash. He never wanted to talk about it. In fact, Henry made Mom promise not to talk about that with anyone because, for one thing, he felt he wasn’t a courageous man. For another reason, the memories were too awful, too painful. So, Mom kept silent, and Robin didn’t find out about her father’s exploits until much later in life.

  Mary told Robin about her father’s experiences when Robin became an adult, and Dad’s visions of a soldiers’ arm getting blown off, which occasionally came back to haunt him in vivid, slow-motion dreams at night in those first months home from the war. The war didn’t last long, but it had a terrible effect on Henry. How could Robin have known as a child what was going on in his head? Still, there were no pajama parties at her house. There were no father-daughter square dances to go to. Not with Dad’s delicate mental condition.

  She shook herself from the self-pitying thoughts and confronted her father once again. “Dad! You still need to know what’s going on in legal terms. Sharon is petitioning the court to declare you incapacitated, requesting limited guardianship be placed over your financial affairs. The hearing is set for December 23rd. And in the meantime,” Robin waved the letter, “your liquid assets are frozen.”

  Henry nodded making Robin believe he understood. And then he whispered, “Merry Christmas.” For a moment Robin looked at Henry and saw in his face a glimmer of comprehension and sadness, which she had no power to remove. She tried to smile, but couldn’t. She continued, reluctantly. “This means two things. First, the court has allowed me to take money from your account to pay your bills. For spending money, I’m allowed to give you twenty dollars a day. So, I’m putting that money in each daily envelope. See?” Robin waved the last envelope and placed it in the wicker basket.

  “What about the other thing. You said two things. You said ‘first’ blah, blah, blah. But I didn’t hear a ‘second’ blah, blah, blah.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m getting to it now. The second thing is that we have to find you a lawyer. I think you are competent to handle yourself financially but …”

  “She wants the money, that’s why she’s doing this?”

  “Yes,” Robin said somberly.

  “Okay. Then let’s give her some.”

  “Well, maybe that’s something we can work out. But for the time being, I’ve asked John Silva, a partner in the law firm, to represent …”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

  “You. You represent me.”

  “No. Dad. I can’t represent you. I’m your daughter. John is not emotionally involved and he can …”

  “I said NO. You are my lawyer. You are my lawyer. You are my lawyer.”

  “All right, Dad. Calm down.” Robin patted Henry on the hand. “Why are you so upset? John is a very good lawyer.”

  “Because of the secret, that’s why.” Henry buried his head in his hands.

  Robin sat there with a deadpan look on her face. She was more dumbfounded than anything else. There were only two times in her life that ‘the secret’ was ever mentioned. Both times it was Mom who talked about it, and who prepared the children for the family’s self-censorship. So, naturally, it came as quite a surprise for Robin to hear Henry speak about it.

  “Your fancy-shmancy-lawyer-partner-person might find out about … it. You … you be my lawyer. Don’t let them find out.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Robin knew it was better to concede on this issue than to fight him. When Dad got like this, it was no use even trying. She also knew there was a deeper turmoil inside of him, deeper and darker and very hard to understand.

  Henry eyes began to water, his lips quivered. “Your mom never forgave me. She said she did. But I knew. That’s all I wanted, you know. That’s all I ever wanted, to be forgiven.”

  “Why are you talking about this now, Dad? In all my life, I never heard you talk about it.”

  He smiled at her; his mind had already left the issue, and he changed the topic as abruptly as he began it. “You know, you look so much like your mom, Pumpkin.”

  She sighed deeply, knowing that the moment of fearless honesty had passed. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “You act like her sometimes too, you know. You’re very bossy.”

  “Manure sandwich,” Robin said. They both laughed.

  “Be my lawyer. Plea
se. I got nobody else to take care of me.”

  “Okay. I’ll be your lawyer. In the meantime, I don’t want you giving this money away. Do you hear me? Stop giving things away.”

  “Stop giving things away,” he repeated her words in a strong, melodious voice, mimicking her.

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “Stop, Dad. Let’s not act like that today. Okay?”

  Henry held out his hand for Robin to be quiet. He appeared to be in thought, and had something important to say. “Maybe I’ll get a job”

  “No. You don’t have to get a job. Twenty dollars a day is plenty of money to live on. I’m paying the rest of the bills with the estate money. Don’t worry about anything.”

  “What am I going to do about Christmas? Christmas is just around the corner.”

  “I have money. I’ll lend you …”

  “No.”

  “Okay, Dad. Listen, we can’t get stuck on this issue right now because we have to go to the church. You … you have to understand Judge Brady wants to see us before the hearing. He wants to talk to you and me and Sharon this Wednesday. I think he wants to talk to Sharon, mainly. Maybe he can talk her out of this whole thing. Maybe all this will be settled on Wednesday and you can spend whatever you want to spend for Christmas. Okay?”

  Henry smiled and nodded several times. “Let’s go shopping together. Me and you. Make a nice time of it.” Henry jumped to his feet and began doing the dishes.

  Robin got up and escorted him away from the kitchen. “Dad, please go upstairs and get dressed in your black suit. We have to go to the funeral now.”

  Henry left as commanded and Robin watched him approach the stairs. He began humming a tune, lost now in his own private world as if their conversation never happened.

  In the background, muffled by thirty feet of lawn and two studded walls, the boisterous voice of Mr. Petzinger could be heard. It halted Henry in his tracks. He stopped humming, heard a door slamming, and seconds later, the familiar, almost silent, sobbing by the fence.

  Henry hummed again, a little bit louder, and with a bit more determination.

  Robin walked over and touched him on the shoulder.

  “Have I been a bad father to you,” Henry asked, almost whispering?

  Robin leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “No. You’ve been a terrific father. Now, go upstairs and get dressed. Wear your black suit, okay?”

  * * *

  ROBIN WALKED Henry into the church where a sign MARY WOLFF’s FUNERAL greeted them. The church was full. The whole town seemed to be there. Robin couldn’t help but think that those close to Mom knew she was very much in love with Dad. As they walked to the front pew, she heard the whispers. She was used to that. Mom was used to that too. But what these people didn’t know was Henry contributed much to the balance in Robin’s life. For example, nothing ever disturbed Henry to the point that he became angry or unruly. He was a constant companion to the children growing up, a playmate except during those times when he withdrew into his private world.

  What Henry lacked in community responsibility, Mom made up with her sense of civic duty. She had belonged to the PTA, was an active member at the town meetings – held a post of secretary, which was a glorified name for note keeper and meeting organizer. Still, she kept accurate records of the dog tags - twelve hundred of them – as well as other animal registrations. According to these records, the citizens of Coalsville had three pork-bellied pigs, five llamas, two one-hump camels, over three hundred horses and one cheetah, which was donated to the Philadelphia zoo after the large feline bit a police officer when it escaped from its cage.

  This day was a day of mourning for all. The church was packed with friends of the Wolff family. They sat next Sharon who was saving them a seat. This was Reverend McMillan’s cue to get up and make a short speech. After his speech, he nodded to Henry to come up to the podium and give his eulogy.

  Sharon covered the bottom half of her face with her hand and shot a look over to Robin who shrugged her shoulders. Robin shot a startled look at the Pastor - a look of betrayal for not warning her of her father’s planned participation in the eulogy. She had known the Pastor all her life. How could he do this to her?

  The Pastor just shrugged, as if he enjoyed the suspense of Henry giving devotion to the congregation and not knowing whether he was going to embarrass himself or his family. Seemingly, there was no love lost between him and the Wolff family.

  Robin looked back at Sharon. They both shook their heads, disavowing any previous knowledge that their dad was going to make this trip to the podium. Robin shot another look back at the Pastor and this time she was issuing a statement of her displeasure. She was sure that this was Reverend McMillan’s way of getting back at Mary for bullying him over the years.

  Nevertheless, Robin’s body tingled, filled with anxiety, as Henry patted her on the head as he rose from the front-row pew to take a stand at the podium.

  * * *

  HENRY STOOD TALL and took in the entire congregation in one glance. “Today I mourn someone who is very dear to me,” Henry began in a normal voice, a normal beginning. “Her loss hasn’t quite registered up here yet.” Henry pointed to his head.

  While he spoke, Henry felt an unusual peace. He looked around and felt the spirit of the entire congregation directed his way.

  “Today reminds me of when Mr. Neill Murphy died a couple of years back.” Henry took notice of Mrs. Murphy in the third pew and tossed her a little nod. She cordially smiled back.

  “I remember Marge telling me the story about what happened the morning Neill died. She was making his favorite cookies, chocolate chip … wasn’t it, Marge?”

  Marge nodded, but she looked confused as if she didn’t know what ‘story’ Henry was talking about.

  “Neill confided to his lovely wife that he was in a lot pain, and the sooner the Lord called him, the better off he’d be. And he was ready to go, except the smell of Marge baking her famous chocolate chip cookies that morning kept him hanging on. He always loved those cookies. Everyone in town loves Marge’s chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Amen to that,” someone in the middle of the congregation yelled out.

  “He was so sick he couldn’t walk. But he could crawl.”

  “Oh, God,” Sharon groaned loud enough for Henry to hear. “Here we go.”

  Henry held up his hand for quiet, and continued. “And that’s what he did that morning. The smell of Marge’s baking beckoned him. He slipped out of his bed and crawled on his elbows, marine style, all the way down the stairs. He slid across the floor on his belly into the hallway and finally into the kitchen. God knows he was only hanging on by a thread.”

  Henry looked straight at Robin. She smiled at him, nodded, held her hand out for him to continue. She was ready.

  “He should have died right then and there, but the aroma of those cookies kept him alive.”

  Marge began to chuckle and the people sitting around her gave small taps on her shoulder and arm. By now everyone’s attention was on Henry. He smiled softly at Marge and nodded her way.

  “He barely had enough energy to lift his head,” Henry continued, “and he would’ve died right there but the aroma of those heavenly baked cookies allowed him to crawl a little further until there in the kitchen he saw the trays of the freshly baked cookies, and with every ounce of strength he had, he pulled his way on his elbows … another foot … another inch … until, finally, he reached the kitchen table. He pulled himself up onto the chair, and reached out to the tray for one of those famous Murphy cookies. Then, Marge, seeing what her dying husband was up to, smacked the back of Neill’s hand with the spatula as he was reaching into the tray, and said, ‘Neill, you leave those cookies alone. They’re for the funeral.’”

  A roar of laughter filled the room. Sharon buried her head in her hands, and Robin just put her head down for several seconds and stoically took in the mixture of groans, a handful of “Oh-my-Gods” and, most
ly, the unending roar of laughter.

  * * *

  DANNY SAT in the back with his father. He looked around and saw the pandemonium the church was in. He spotted Mrs. Murphy who covered her eyes with her hand and was shaking her head. Some of the people who laughed were now showing looks of horror. Some were still laughing uncontrollably. Danny chuckled at the commotion and Mr. Petzinger sedated him with a smack on the head.

  From Danny’s point of view, though, he could see the profound effect Henry had on everyone. This make-believe story, when people were expecting reverential and pious behavior, wreaked so much confusion and laughter that Danny was captivated by the instant change in mood. Henry had just become Danny’s hero. There was no one else in Danny’s life who was so … courageous, so … non-conforming, so … in-your-face idiotic.

  * * *

  HENRY COUGHED loudly into the microphone, a signal he was ready to continue. “I guess at a time like this, unusual funeral stories come to mind. Even if they are made up.” He stopped for several seconds allowing the congregation to find calm. Finally, a quiet prevailed.

  Henry glanced at Robin who seemed to be staring at the Pastor. Henry looked over at the Pastor who appeared to be comfortable, sitting at ease with his hands folded and a tiny smirk on his face. Henry faced the congregation. “I just want to say that I loved my wife dearly.” He waited for complete silence, then, “She took care of me, you know. She was a terrific cook. She taught me some important things.”

  Henry looked around. No more smiling faces. They were intent, focused, just like he wanted them to be. In the back vestibule area, he spotted Dixie at the end of the room by the doors, giving him a half-wave from her hip. She appeared nervous, out of place, Henry thought. He waved her in from the podium, and she sat in the back pew.

  Henry reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a piece of paper, a list, and he raised it to the congregation as if it was an offering. “These are the things that Mary has taught me about life.” He pulled the paper closer to his face and began reading. “She taught me to let my children make their own mistakes, and when they do, forgive them and love them anyway.” He looked around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention. He buried his face in the list again.