South of Main Street

by Robert Gately

  “Henry?” she yelled out before going in. Dixie called his name several times before she noticed him through the dining room window talking to the stones. She looked around, casually, and everything was exactly where it was before. She spotted the coin collection on the coffee table and picked it up wondering how many people handled these coins before they found their present home. There was a 1909 quarter, for example, an ancient artifact to her which probably passed by the hands of millions of people before winding up in this slot.

  “What are you doing?” a voice boomed out of nowhere, terrifying Dixie out of her wits.

  Dixie turned and saw who it was. “Oh my God!” she said and leaned back on one foot and held her chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Robin asked.

  “I … ah …,” Dixie didn’t know what to say. It certainly looked suspicious that she was in the house alone with Henry’s coin collection clutched against her chest. But Dixie summoned her defense. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong and Henry had given her an open invitation. “I’m here to talk with Henry.”

  “Really? About what?”

  “Nothing important. Just small talk.”

  “What are you doing with his coin collection?” Robin asked.

  “I’m … admiring it.”

  “Put it down.”

  Dixie put the collection back on the coffee table.

  “Will you please leave? Now.”

  Dixie stomped off. The feeling of animosity was intense. When she got to the door, she turned around and faced her accuser. “What do you have against me, Robin?”

  “Nothing, Dixie. I just don’t trust you. I’ve never trusted you. Even in high school I didn’t trust you.” These words came out in rapid-fire succession as if she had been storing it for a long time.

  “Why? What did I ever do to you?”

  “It’s not what you did. It’s what you’re capable of doing. So, please, Dixie. Just leave.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave,” Dixie said. “But I want to say something before I do. What I remember about high school was prom night and Sharon asking me, ‘where did you get that dress?’ Then she laughed. It was my grandmother’s old dress. That was the first day I became ashamed of living on the south side of Main Street. The first time I was ashamed of who I was. You guys are snobs of the worst kind.”

  Dixie left without waiting for a response.

  * * *

  HENRY SPOTTED Robin’s car. He put down the rake and rushed to the shed. The table saw made it hard to maneuver, and the hand tools, the electric saw, the paint sprayer, and scraps of wood from abandoned projects laid around the workbench in no particular order. Numerous half-filled paint cans, small bottles with twist-on tops containing nails and screws of all sizes sat on dust-ridden steel shelves. The garden rakes and brooms and shovels hung on the walls.

  A wooden mannequin, who was missing one leg and a few fingers on one hand, rested against the wall in the far corner of the shed. Henry walked directly to it and removed the good hand from the mannequin’s arm and placed it on the workbench. He grabbed his electric saw and plugged it into the electric socket. Henry found a foot-long piece of scrap wood and placed it next to the saw. He took the stub of the mannequin’s hand, and pulled it up his left sleeve jacket creating the illusion that the mannequin’s hand was his own. He waited patiently.

  “Dad,” Henry heard Robin yell from the back door.

  Henry held up the saw with his real hand and pulled the trigger a couple of times to make sure Robin knew he was in the shed.

  Buzz … buzz … buzz … Henry kept on pulling the trigger of the electric saw.

  * * *

  ROBIN EXITED the house and stomped down the steps and across the yard. She looked around, walked in a quick circle, wishing she never had that conversation with Dixie. The words just spewed out of her mouth without thinking. Maybe she’ll apologize to her later for being … a snob. No time to get hung up on that now.

  She headed directly for the workshop. Before entering, she casually glanced over to the Petzinger house and saw Charles watching from the window. He always seemed to be watching. What a strange man, she thought. Hasn’t been right since his wife left.

  * * *

  HENRY HELD a piece of wood down on the workbench with the mannequin’s hand, which he held firmly under his sleeve, as Robin entered the shed. He stood poised with the electric saw in his other, real hand. He looked up. “Oh, hello, Sweetie” he said, and then commenced to cut the wood.

  The blade tore through the wood and Henry didn’t stop sawing until the blade cut his wooden hand clear off the stump. The mannequin’s hand rolled off the workbench and onto to the floor. Henry let go of the trigger and screeched and then clutched his chest with his mannequin’s hand while jumping around waving the wooden stub in the air. He swung his arm around as if he had just cut off his real hand and cried out, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! OH, MY GOD!”

  * * *

  ROBIN GAVE Henry a deadpan stare. “Will you knock that crap off,” she yelled. She had been desensitized long ago by Henry’s childish pranks. “Have you forgotten? We are supposed to see Judge Brady today. You need to change into different clothes.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Henry said while removing the stub from the sleeve and tossing it with the rest of the scraps of wood. He bent down and picked up the mannequin’s hand off the floor, put it on the workbench.

  Robin and Henry faced each other silently for a couple of seconds. Robin just shook her head.

  “I’m running out of props,” Henry said as he walked past her and into the yard.

  “Good,” Robin ushered back as she followed him to the house. “You know, it’s these kinds of antics that will be talked about today. And what do you think Judge Brady is going to think?”

  “I’ve seen Judge Brady do some pretty stupid things,” Henry said.

  “I didn’t say what you do is stupid.”

  “I saw him pour oil into his car when he forgot to put the screw back on the oil pan. He was pouring his third quart into the crankcase before he noticed the oil streaming down his driveway. What do you think of that?”

  Henry opened the back door and looked back at Robin. “I saw him do that. He looked around to see if anyone saw what he did. I was parked at the stop sign by his house. We looked at each other and we both laughed. Ha, ha, ha, ha. We both thought it was funny. Not stupid.”

  “So, what’s your point, Dad?”

  “Nothing,” Henry said, and then walked in the house. “Life is full of these unusual, funny things.”

  After a few seconds, she realized what Henry was trying to say. “Aaagh,” she whispered to herself. “I should’ve laughed.” She picked up a head of steam as she walked to the house. “I did laugh, Dad, when you did it the first time. Twenty years ago.”

  * * *

  JUDGE BRADY SAT in his chambers tapping his desk with his pencil. He looked at Henry and smiled. Henry smiled back.

  Robin was sitting next to Henry. Her hands were folded on her lap patiently waiting. They all were patiently waiting for something.

  The Judge looked directly at Robin and smiled.

  “She knows, Judge,” Robin said. “Sharon didn’t forget.”

  “Hmm.” The Judge continued to tap, tap, tap. After a second he said, “I’m so sorry about Mary. She was … a good person. I liked her very much. The community has lost a good friend. A good citizen.”

  “I liked her too, Judge,” Henry declared.

  “Thank you, Judge,” Robin said.

  “Maybe it’s just as well Sharon is not here. We can chat a little bit. Why do you think you are here, Henry?”

  Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Something to do with Mary’s money, I suppose.”

  “Yes, it has something to do with that, but we are here because of you, aren’t we, Henry?”

  Henry became fidgety, rubbed his hands together as if he was washing them.

 
; “I don’t want to get you upset, Henry. This meeting today is for me, really. I want to know why … I need to know what’s on Sharon’s mind. I’m going to let her talk about whatever she wants to and not limit the topic. I sense she has issues, which I don’t think are legal. And if that’s what I determine in the end, I will cancel the hearing.”

  He looked directly in the Henry’s eyes, then into Robin’s. “Okay? We’ll all exercise a little patience? Let Sharon say what she needs to say?”

  Just as the Judge finished saying this, Sharon walked in.

  “Sorry I’m late, Judge,” Sharon said. “Holiday shoppers … they’re all over the place. I could’ve scored a hundred points just coming here.” She chuckled. “You know, two points for the old lady over there. Ten points for the guy in the wheel chair.” Nobody was laughing. Henry nodded and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Nice try. Not funny.”

  “Never mind,” Sharon said.

  “Yes. I know,” the Judge agreed. “There’s a lot of shoppers out there today. Please sit, Sharon.”

  Sharon sat next to Robin and they all waited for the Judge to speak.

  “Okay, let’s cut to the chase,” the Judge finally said. “I’ve known all of you for twenty-five years and I wanted everyone here to discuss what’s going on off the record. Once the injunction is filed legally, then we have a record. We don’t really want that, do we? I know you all have been through a great ordeal with Mary’s illness.” The Judge stopped and pinched the flab underneath his chin for a few seconds, sort of an unconscious ritual to help him find the right words. He settled on being straightforward. “Henry, the nuts and bolts of it is this: Sharon here thinks you can’t handle your own financial affairs. How do you feel about that?”

  “Well, maybe she’s right,” Henry said.

  Robin immediately was on the edge of her seat. “Judge Brady, I don’t think my father really meant …”

  The Judge held up his hand, and Robin fell silent. “That is an honest answer, Henry. Thank you.” He paused thoughtfully then said, “I’m just not sure if it’s the correct answer.”

  He cocked an eye at Sharon, then at Robin. “Is there something going on I need to know about?”

  “Like what?” Sharon asked.

  “Family argument? Maybe someone is sick. I don’t know. I’m trying to understand, Sharon.”

  “No. Nothing’s going on.”

  The Judge sat back and puckered his lips. After a second he slapped both hands on the desk. “Okay, then,” he said. “Talk to me, Sharon. Tell me why you filed this petition. I don’t have anything on the schedule for another two hours. So take your time.”

  “Well, Judge. Here’s the skinny. When I was thirteen years old, my father lost his driver’s license …”

  * * *

  ROBIN LEANED FORWARD as Sharon talked about the reasons why Henry had lost his license - primarily the drag races he got into with the high school students. Robin noticed the Judge was very attentive about Dad’s drag racing exploits. In fact, Judge Brady threw in a few exclamation comments like “Really” and “No kidding” as if he were truly interested.

  Robin also sensed the Judge was nervous. He stuck out his chin, his tie appearing too tight. He sank a little in his chair and then snuck a peek at Henry, queried him with a quick high-eyebrow move.

  She caught a glimpse of Henry squinting slightly, a vague response to a vague query by the Judge. Strange body language, Robin thought, and if she didn’t know any better, she would suspect something private was being shared between these two men.

  “And when we were younger,” Sharon said, “his behavior was extremely peculiar. I mean, we were kids and it was embarrassing when my father purposely talked like a retard. At parties … at the movie theater … nowhere was safe. One of my first boyfriends came to the house … that was a mistake. My father shoved his tongue in the back of his throat and talked like a …” Sharon forced her tongue in the back of the throat and said “’Myeeee naaaame izz Heeeenry, and Immaa Shaaaaron’z faaaaatha’ ... like that,” Sharon demonstrated.

  Robin covered her mouth trying to hold in her laugh.

  “It wasn’t funny, Robin. I liked Dennis Benning. I liked him a lot and he would never give me a second look because of Dad.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right,” Robin said. “I’m sure Dad put the kibosh on that. It couldn’t have been that you were so far up his butt all the time that he was afraid of you.”

  “All right,” the Judge interjected. “Stop. Robin, let’s just allow your sister to get it all out. Okay? Go ahead, Sharon. Continue.”

  “Well, there were always little episodes. Adventures, if that’s what you want to call it. I remember one time Mom had to work late and she decided it would be a good idea if Dad took us to the movies. Why not? It was a nice day for a walk. Only Mom didn’t know Dad would give his money away to the first homeless person he saw on the way to the theater. When we got there, he just stood in front of the glass and turned his pockets inside out. ‘No money,’ he said, as if he expected the guy to let us in for free. You know how embarrassing that was? He’s always been that way, and that’s why Mom gave him an allowance. When he spent it, he’d have to wait for the next week’s allowance. That’s the way it had to be. That’s the way it should be now.”

  “Oh, please,” Robin blurted out. “This is the reason you petitioned the court?”

  * * *

  HENRY PUCKERED his lips indicating his displeasure that his two daughters were ready to explode on each other. But he also sensed the Judge had things under control. Although Henry wanted to add his point of view, he figured he should be quiet and not add any fuel to the fire. Not now. Not here. He knew better. He remained silent.

  Sharon continued. “And then there was that time when he abandoned us.”

  “He abandoned you?” the Judge asked.

  “Yes. Well … kinda. I mean, Dad took us to lunch a lot, Judge. This was before he lost his license. He took us to fast food places, and God forbid if you were the last person to finish eating or had to go to the bathroom or something before we left. He would hustle everyone in the car and if you lollygagged behind, you’d be stuck alone outside trying to find the car because he would hide it behind some … some dumpster or something.”

  Robin seemed to be holding in a laugh. “Come on, Sharon. It wasn’t that bad. It was funny.”

  “Funny?” Sharon said loudly. “He never did it to you. But remember Ginny? We were at Benny’s and when we finished eating, poor Ginny had to go to the girls’ room. Mistake! When she came out she couldn’t find us in the restaurant, so she went into the parking lot and she couldn’t find the car because it was parked behind a truck and out of view. She panicked and broke down and cried hysterically. My God, it was terrible.”

  Robin stopped laughing. “Well, if I remember correctly,” she said, “you were right there behind the truck peeking out, laughing with the rest of us. And I don’t remember Ginny being all that upset. You’re exaggerating.”

  “I am not exaggerating. And maybe I did laugh but … I was eleven years old, for goodness sakes, Robin. What did I know?” Sharon directed her attention to the Judge. “Ginny cried her eyes out, Judge, because she thought my father left her stranded, and that was the last time Ginny’s mother allowed her to play with us.”

  * * *

  HENRY WAS STUNNED at this revelation. He remembered doing this, but it was a joke and everyone in the car laughed, and Ginny, in fact, thought it was funny also. It wasn’t tears, but laughter he remembered. Henry slumped in his chair, mortified at this revelation. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.

  “And then there was that time with Judy Pickett, another friend of mine ... We were about twelve at the time. She was upstairs taking a dump … excuse me, going to the bathroom.

  “He banged on the bathroom door really loud …” Sharon pointed at Henry.

  A bolt of adrenalin felt like a knife in his chest. He felt like he was a stranger
being accused of a crime.

  “… he scared the hell out of her,” she continued. “And she slips and slides all over the toilet seat … and he pokes his head into the bathroom and what does he say? Do you remember what you said, Dad?”

  “I … I …” Henry felt mortified at these accusations. Sharon never told him these were lifelong issues she was carrying. “… I forget, Sweetie.”

  Sharon leaned forward and looked the judge in the eyes. “He says, ‘Charming.’ He opens the door invading her privacy in the worst possible way, while she’s slipping and sliding all over the place, and that’s all he says to her. He doesn’t say ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here.’ No. ‘Charming,’ is what he says.”

  Sharon drew a big X in the air with her index finger. “Another friend not allowed to hang with us.”

  * * *

  A QUIET FELL over the room as the judge scanned those in front of him. Robin’s eyes were cast down. Henry looked off as if he wasn’t paying attention. What Sharon was saying seemed to have an effect on the Wolff family, but the Judge wasn’t sure what Sharon was saying had relevance. “All this is interesting,” the Judge started to say, but he was quickly interrupted.

  “It’s not everything, Judge,” Sharon bellowed. “He used to do stupid things while we were growing up. Oh, and God forbid, we couldn’t use the word ‘stupid’ in front of him else he’d go into his trance-like state. He hated being called that. Still, I remember when we went Christmas caroling. He’d sing ‘Jingle bells, Batman smells’. Sometimes we’d go out and he’d wear his pants backwards. We’d meet strangers in a store and he’d stick out his hand and say, ‘Hi, I haven’t seen you in so long’ or he’d ask people for their autograph or ask them what gender they were. Stuff like that. It was hard growing up with a parent who behaved that way.”

  “I see,” the Judge said.

  “He could get pretty disgusting sometimes. He’d burp in public and say ‘hmmm... tasty’. Or be on line at a super market, blow his nose and offer to show the contents in his Kleenex to people. I remember one time at a department store he would stare at people. Look at them up and down. And when one person got indignant and asked him what he was looking at, my father said, in a real demonic voice, that he was looking for a more suitable host body.”