South of Main Street

by Robert Gately

  “That’s a new one,” Robin said.

  “No to me. You weren’t there.”

  Judge Brady looked at Henry and saw a faraway look in his eyes. He felt compassion for the elder Wolff. He believed Sharon talked honestly, but he also believed Henry didn’t mean to do any harm to anyone. He was just acting like a child in the stories his daughter told.

  “I’m sorry, Dad, but …”

  The Judge held out his hand to stop Sharon. “Now, let me tell you a Henry story,” the Judge interrupted. “I remember the day when a dozen or so Asians came to town sightseeing at the old Sakawanna coal mines.” The Judge chuckled, anticipating the story’s end. “One of the Chinese men asked your father to take a picture. You know, a little family portrait as memorabilia of the trip. The Chinese guy handed your father a camera and then ran over to his family and took a position next to his wife. While they all posed in front of the sign, your dad, instead of snapping the picture, tucked the camera under his arm and ran off with it like he was stealing it. Funniest thing I ever saw. Their faces …,” the Judge laughed loudly. “It was in their faces...” Judge Brady couldn’t contain himself.

  “JUDGE!” Sharon shouted. “This is not funny. None of this is funny.”

  “No, Sharon. Not entirely. And there is a reason why I allowed you to go on.” The Judge leaned into his desk and got closer to her. “Listen, I was hoping that you would come in here today and get some things off your chest and then let everything be. I’ve known your family too long. We’ve broken bread together, for crying out loud. You have some gripes, maybe, but they’re not serious. Your dad is a little … eccentric. That’s all. And if you really think he’s a social monster, that’s an issue with a psychologist. Not me. Not the courts. I suggest you try and work these things out. What you told me has nothing to do with your father’s ability to handle money.”

  * * *

  SHARON KNOCKED on the tabletop several times to get everyone’s attention. “Well, I haven’t gotten to the part about his fiscal irresponsibility yet, Judge. He gives money away like it’s bubble gum. He gave five hundred dollars away the other day, the day after our mother died, I might add, to that … that druggie, that cartoon character who walks the streets, what’s her name … Dixie. And then the very next day he gave more money to her. Robin saw it.” Sharon pointed to Robin expecting her to corroborate what they both saw from the porch of Duffy’s Funeral Home.

  “I don’t know what I saw,” Robin said. “It was too far away.”

  Sharon shot Robin a look and wanted to call her a liar. But Henry knocked on the table to get everyone’s attention.

  “She’s right,” Henry said. “I did give Dixie some money, but it wasn’t five hundred.”

  “How much was it, Henry?” the judge asked.

  “Four hundred.”

  “Why did you give it to her?”

  “Because she needed it.”

  “For what?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “For drugs, Henry?”

  “It was … she owed money to … this guy who was going hurt her if she didn’t pay him.”

  “A drug dealer, that’s who,” Sharon bellowed.

  The Judge blew out a puff of air, as if he were given a fatal blow. He leaned back in his chair.

  “Why should this surprise anyone?” Sharon continued. “That’s the way he was, and is. He went to the grocery store, for example, and if anyone looked like they needed assistance, he gave them whatever was in his pockets. He has always been that way, and that’s why Mom was always the distributor of the money. She gave him an allowance and when he spent it, he would have to wait for the next week’s allowance. Yes, that’s the way it was. That’s the way it had to be. That’s the way it should be now.”

  “Yes. You mentioned that before,” the Judge said. “All right. All right.”

  “But there’s more, Judge...”

  “I said all right. I’ve heard enough. I’ll see you all on December twenty-third.” He looked to Robin and Henry alternately. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble here. I thought we might be able to settle this informally, off the record.” He turned to Sharon and pointed. “But I’m going to tell you something, Sharon. You’ll need more than what you’ve told me today. You’re going to have to prove to me your father is incapacitated. In other words, you’ll have to prove that he doesn’t have the ability to handle money in a responsible way today. Not yesterday, or twenty years ago, but today. A couple of instances of giving money to destitute people doesn’t do it for me. Actually, it’s kind of noble.”

  “Judge,” Robin said, “can we do this after the holidays?”

  “No. You know I can’t, Robin. I’m required by law to have the hearing within twenty days of the petition. However, if you want to withdraw the petition and wait until after the new year …”

  Sharon shook her head vehemently.

  “Then I’ll see you all on the twenty-third.” The Judge stood and held out his hand to Henry. “Henry, you take care of yourself.”

  Henry shook Judge Brady’s hand. The Judge winked at Henry and Henry just smiled.

  * * *

  ROBIN LED the beleaguered Wolff family down the concrete steps of the courthouse.

  “Well, that’s that,” Henry said. “That was somewhat painless.” Then he whistled and skipped down the steps.

  Robin could never get used to the way Henry dismissed things so quickly. He just got battered by his youngest daughter, and he was acting like nothing has happened.

  “Yeah, well, I guess Judge Brady wasn’t expecting to do battle today.” Robin was talking directly to Sharon.

  “Don’t start,” Sharon said. “I don’t have to defend myself.”

  “Nice weather,” Henry quickly piped in.

  The Wolff family stood by the bottom step each looking in a different direction.

  “I’m sorry if I caused anyone any inconvenience.” Sharon said. “I don’t know what else to say; except I told the truth and I have to go to work.”

  “You could say, ‘Let’s sit down and talk this over,’” Robin countered. “That would be the adult thing to say.”

  “I gotta go to work.” Sharon leaned into her father and gave him a peck on the cheek, then left.

  “Sharon hates me, doesn’t she?” Henry asked Robin once Sharon was out of hearing range.

  “No, Dad. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just holding on to a lot of garbage and she won’t let go.”

  “Let go of what? What’s she hanging on to?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. For that matter, what are you holding on to? Maybe you both need to consider getting professional help.”

  “Are you still seeing that doctor what’s-his-name, Plucker …”

  “It’s Doctor Tucker, Dad. And yes. In fact, I’m seeing him this afternoon. Do you want to come with me?”

  “No. I don’t want to talk about anything to anyone.”

  “Why, Dad? Maybe we should talk about it. Maybe it’s time to talk about the secret.”

  “NO!”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  They walked a few blocks in silence to Robin’s car. “Jump in. I’ll drive you home.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll walk.”

  Robin looked at her father and saw a man in conflict. She wanted so much to help him, but didn’t have the foggiest idea where to start. Robin saw Henry, at that moment, as a child, and maybe tomorrow as an adult. But if there was one thing she could hold onto, it was the thought that her mother’s death had impacted Henry positively, caused him to consider the fact he might have to change. She sensed a desire from him to be independent, like wanting to get a job, for example. There was a maturation process going on, Robin thought, that was put on hold for three decades and now Henry was trying to make up for that lost time in a matter of weeks, like a body growing exponentially out of its clothes in a matter of seconds, ripping, tearing. Painful and confusing.

  “All right, fine,” Robin said. “Have
a nice walk home. Tell me something before you go.”

  “What?”

  “What was that all about inside with the Judge in his chambers?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The winking. The secret stuff that was going on between you and him. I saw it. Don’t deny it.”

  “Oh, that. I drag-raced him one time down JFK Parkway. The cops stopped both of us.”

  Robin couldn’t believe her ears. “Judge Brady raced you down the busiest thoroughfare in town?”

  “It was real early in the morning. On a Sunday. No traffic.”

  “No kidding. Did you get a ticket?”

  “Not that time. The Judge talked him out of it. He had a 1964 Mustang. No match for my Buick. Beat him soundly.”

  “What am I going to do with you, Dad?” Robin muttered. They said their goodbyes and Robin drove off. While driving she thought about the qualities her father had that allowed him to befriend a judge in one instance and corral the loyalty of a drug addict in another. Dad was certainly at a crossroads in his life, and maybe she was, too. She was on a bit of a roller coaster ride and wondered when it would end.

  She looked in the rear view mirror and saw her Dad walk down the street. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. “I wish I had a crystal ball,” she said.

  She wondered what fortunes or misadventures were in store for him? And for her.

  * * *

  ROBIN SAT in a reclining chair and was in the middle of a session with Dr. Tucker. In a way, she knew she needed to continue with the good Doctor for a few more months, but the other side of her was relieved this was the last session, at least for now until the holidays were over. She had committed to six sessions to get over the emotional crises she was in, what with her mother being sick and dying and her sister being who she was being, and her dad going through his changes. She felt confident that she had accomplished what she needed to accomplish with the sessions, but there was always something a person’s psyche that needed more defining.

  “My sister ...” Robin said. “… well, she never wanted what my mother wanted for her. All Sharon had to do was go to college. That’s all my mother wanted, but she had to connive with that Mr. Potatohead. She never had a serious relationship with a man.”

  “I don’t remember hearing you talking about a serious relationship, either,” Doctor Tucker said. “Have you ever had one?”

  “I guess I really haven’t. Of course there was Asa.”

  “Asa Alder,” the doctor questioned? “The owner of Alder pharmacy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you embarrassed right now?”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” Robin asserted.

  “Let’s talk about it, then.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Robin exploded. “It wasn’t ... I mean, he was a guy I liked in high school for a while, that’s all.” She wished she had not brought him into the conversation. Now she was going probably have to consider more sessions to get to more … personal issues. The red candle in the window caught her eye. It wasn’t there in her last session. She supposed it was the doctor’s way of enticing her to be more personal. She wouldn’t put it past him to put an ornament up just to get her to reveal herself more.

  Dr. Tucker moved around in his chair to get more comfortable, as if to suggest he has all the time in the world to listen to this story.

  “Okay. Okay,” Robin exclaimed. “While growing up, I was tomboy. Played with the guys, that sort of thing. I loved baseball. Was pretty good at it, for a girl. Asa was a pitcher. A good one. He was also smart. He had a thing for me. I could tell. Well, it was more than that, actually. I used to get him embarrassed. I played shortstop and I yelled ‘no batter, no batter’, and then I would yell to him, in a much softer, sexier voice, ‘strike these guys out, Sweetie, so we can go home early’. I could tell he found it hard to concentrate with me out there. One game, we snuck behind the stands where no one could see us. We made out.”

  Robin looked at the doctor to see if there was a reaction to that last comment. The doctor didn’t change his gaze at his notepad and just bobbed his head slightly, as if to suggest the story had some bite to it and he wanted Robin to continue.

  So she continued, but not the way he anticipated, she was sure. “He had a great knuckle ball, which was the main reason he won a scholarship to college later on. He led the league in high school to the District Championship. Anyway, we’d spend a lot of time talking, and he kissed me under the bleachers. I liked him. But somewhere along the line, I lost interest in baseball and we went our separate ways. I became more academic. Had less time for a social life. Him, too, for that matter. Asa dedicated all his time to his business. He should have a steady girlfriend or be married.”

  “Why?” the doctor asked.

  “Well, because he’s a good-looking man,” Robin admitted. “I mean, I met him at the diner a while back and we had lunch. He told me he believed people married early in their life because they felt inadequate and marriage somehow erased those feelings. He concluded that’s why most marriages ended up in divorces, so he was doing just fine putting his priorities where they were. He said he would continue to wait until he found the right person.

  “How do you feel about him now?”

  “Nostalgic, mostly,” Robin said. “I shouldn’t’ve even mentioned him. But I remember ... I remember the baseball, mostly.”

  “And the bleachers.”

  “Yeah. The bleachers.”

  “I’m not sure you answered my question,” the doctor said. “How do you feel about him now?”

  “I don’t know,” Robin said, trying to be honest. “I just remember him the way he was. He certainly had a lot of confidence in himself. I always sensed there was always something there. I’d be lying if I told you there wasn’t.”

  “Go out with him, then,” the doctor encouraged.

  “Nah. I’ve fantasized about what it would be like on a date with him, sitting in a candlelit booth, sipping wine and talking about ERAs and ¬RBIs. It would probably be boring. I’ve changed. He’s changed. Nah.” She thought for a second or two more. “He’s a good-looking man. I said that already, didn’t I?”

  Dr. Tucker nods and then went back to staring at his note pad.

  “Listen,” Robin said, as if she was closing the topic, “I got too much going on right now to think about my interests.”

  “Like what, Robin? What’s more important than what makes you happy?”

  “Right now, the family is falling apart. I mean, this issue with Sharon filing for financial guardianship is causing my father problems.

  “Problems? You told me he’s doing fine.”

  “Yes, he is. But, like I told you this morning, Sharon is … Listen, Doctor. We all have issues, I know that. My father has ... issues. I know we’ve gone over this before, but my mother’s death has roused a sense of responsibility in my father, I think. If that’s possible. I mean, I still can’t predict my father’s behavior. And Sharon is pushing him. Today was hard. She brought up a lot of things that brought back memories and feelings about my father. He was like a kid back then. But I see him trying to act more maturely now.”

  “So, where are we going with this?” the doctor asked.

  Robin heaped a huge sigh. She drooped her shoulders and cut right to the chase. “I’m afraid, doctor.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Coalsville is a small town,” Robin said. “People talk. Maybe a little too much.

  “Hmm. The secret.”

  “Yes,” Robin admitted. “You see, even though my father’s behavior was ... is bizarre, I always felt safe the secret was tucked away in a vault in his mind somewhere. But I’m not sure now. I’m afraid the secret might come out and it won’t just affect my father.

  “You think it might affect you,” the doctor surmised.

  “Yes.”

  They sat, silent. Both were thinking. There was nothing else to say.

  Chapter 8

  HENRY GAZE
D at the overcast sky from the back door of his house while a TV meteorologist explained the burgeoning cold front in technical terms. A high-pressure front was bullying its way down and across the northwest, pushing the warm front out and causing a twenty-degree drop in temperature. He observed tiny flakes the size of deer ticks blowing in the wind.

  Henry rushed into the living room and shut the TV off. He patted Hootie who was napping on the couch, and then he began hunting for his cold weather clothes. Boots, a scarf, gloves. He was feeling giddy. Happy days are here again, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da. I forget the words and I don’t care. Da, da, da, da, da, da, da.

  From outside, the predicted storm was tame at the moment. Henry heard another storm brewing next door, however. Yelling, screaming. Two natures were operating independently: one young, innocent; the other older, impulsive.

  While lacing his boots Henry heard a door slam. A peek out the kitchen window showed Danny stomping down the patio steps. He meandered for a time, mumbling obscenities. Finally, he settled by the fence, kicking it, still mumbling and cursing.

  * * *

  DANNY WANTED to scream at the top of his lungs, he was feeling so angry and desolate and alone. Then, quite unexpectedly, Henry burst open the back door of his house and appeared before Danny like a caricature from a Brothers Grimm story. He wore a knitted hat with earmuffs, gloves, and a down jacket that made him look like a doughboy with snow boots. He also had a scarf wrapped twice around his face, and a backpack strapped around his shoulders.

  Henry pulled the scarf down off his mouth and took a gulp of air. With his head tilted back, he let the tiny flakes fall where they may.

  Danny did the same, feeling the raw moisture against his face and outstretched tongue. Distracted from his misery, he watched Henry march across his back yard and disappear into the shed. The young Petzinger heard rustling and clanging noises. It sounded to Danny as if Henry were in a fight with a bear. Suddenly, two rakes came flying out of the shed.