by McNay, Dan
The windows were all open and the room was cool. Outside it was at least a hundred degrees.
“You’re cute,” Sarah told her.
“There’s soda in the fridge.”
Sarah got one and sat at her desk.
“Good news.”
“What?” Daydee asked.
“You don’t already know? I got a letter this morning. Yours is probably waiting for you at home.”
“What?”
“There’s an offer on the apartment building. A real good one.”
“How good?”
“165.”
“Take it!”
“You really don’t know anything about it?”
“No, why should I?”
“It came from a holding company from Springfield. It’s really from Edward.”
“What?”
“I heard you had breakfast with him and made him laugh.”
“I told him I had a nightie for him in his color – to match his eyes.”
“That was it?”
“You guys don’t talk at all?” Daydee asked her. “I told him about your son.”
“He avoids me.”
“He was the one tagging me.”
“What?”
“He spray-painted my door at the apartment and my truck.”
“He can be dangerous. And he’s buying the property because he wants something else.”
“I know.”
“What?” Sarah asked.
“Winston came clean, I think. He told me why Edward was freaked out about me being here.” Daydee couldn’t help grinning. “Apparently they, the three of them, Edward, Jack and Winston gang raped me in one of my teenage black outs. They thought I was out for revenge. I didn’t even remember it.”
Daydee looked at her. She didn’t want to repeat the lie about her aborted baby. Something was going on. Sarah looked confused, then a little horrified.
“It’s you!” Sarah said. “All those years. I was being asked to role play you?”
Daydee understood what she had just found out. They just looked at each other. Sarah made a little shudder.
“God,” Sarah said. “The vision of that is fucking disgusting. Winston?”
Daydee laughed. “It’s good I don’t remember.”
“Edward is dangerous,” Sarah said. “There are things that I kind of know, but never wanted to know. He’s mean. He will injure you.”
“I can really take care of myself. I came back here after twenty years only to find that these guys are all still sixteen and all they want to do is put a hand up my blouse.”
“Makes you feel like you’re welcome,” Sarah said. “You should really leave him alone.”
* * *
It was moving day. Sean was coming with a friend to load up the heavy stuff and bring it over to the old house that Daydee decided she would try to live in. She had been over there most of the week before, cleaning. A locksmith had been hired to change all the locks. He had removed the padlock from both garage doors for her as well. There was a lot of stuff in boxes in there and a lot of other things, maybe even an old piano. She decided to leave it be until she had moved in. It was all too much. She had replaced a couple of window latches all by herself, which she was proud of. The wood was really soft and if someone wanted to force it the screws would probably pull right out, but they looked new and she was hoping that would dissuade anybody from trying. The place had been filthy. She had brought a few things over, but today was the real day. She was slowly carrying boxes out to her pickup truck. The heavier ones were large and bulky as well, so she would have to stop several times and set them down to catch her breath on her way out. She should have pulled the truck up to the front door, but she hated to wreck the lawn with tire tracks. She was sitting atop a box, breathing heavily, when Winston pulled up. He got out and came running over.
“Let me help you!”
She wanted to scream at him to get the fuck away from her, but she was tired. She nodded and stood. He scooped up the box and took it the rest of the way. She went back to the house to get more. Why did she feel like she was waddling? Winston followed her inside.
“You really can’t do all of this yourself,” he said.
“Sean is coming with somebody for the furniture. If you want to help with the boxes that would be ok. I would appreciate it.”
“Sure. I am a friend.”
Daydee grimaced.
“It’s all linen and dishes and cooking stuff and all the practical crap my mother had bought over the years. I’d just have to go out and buy it again.”
“I have got all sorts that my wife collected. You get used to it being there.”
She sat down on the arm of the couch.
“It’s nice to know you don’t have to immediately wash up after a meal. That there are more than a couple of dishes and a couple of glasses.”
Winston looked at her.
“How did you live like that with a child?” he asked.
Oh. What she had told Edward.
“I was poor. And later I put him in a boarding school.”
The trouble with lies was that you had to remember them.
“So all the boxes in the kitchen and bedroom go.”
Winston went to work. He had a whole lot more energy than she did. She went for a box in the bedroom. She was hoping that with the bed moved that she might be able to sleep in it in a new location. She had purposely picked a room that she had no memory of her mother occupying. Then it wasn’t her mother’s bed. And Winston hadn’t ever snored in it.
It had occurred to her this morning that with the sale, it meant that Sarah was promoting and renting apartments for her ex-husband. She wondered if they had worked that out, but Sarah hadn’t been around of late. She’d leave it alone.
They loaded the truck and Sean arrived. She told them the old house was open if they got there before her.
“Winston, I need to run an errand. If you want to come help unload, I’ll be over there in an hour.”
“Okey dokey.”
She had to go get her father’s lunch and deliver it. She had almost forgotten. Then, as she drove off, she wondered why Winston hadn’t noticed her father’s presence out there. Hadn’t anybody else noticed? Jack had been out there a lot.
* * *
It had been a long day. Everything was moved and the furniture placed where she wanted and the bed back together. She paid Sean and his friend. Winston wouldn’t take any money for helping. Stretching out on the couch after they all left, she looked at the boxes surrounding her. She hadn’t thought to label them. She couldn’t remember what was in each one. Finding the bed linen meant the first night in a real bed, so she would have to dig through them when she got up again. A black sedan pulled up out front. She knew who it was. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Edward walked very deliberately to her front door. His dark suit and shoes and the tie made him look like a stuffed lawyer. She got up and met him at the screen, but didn’t invite him in.
“So, what business brings you here?” she asked.
“Mind if I come in?”
“I’m hardly ready for company, but ok. You are putting your reputation in jeopardy, you know.”
She offered him the couch and pulled a kitchen chair over to let him sit by himself.
“You’ve got a lot of work to do around here,” he said.
“Yep.”
“I wanted to see if you were interested in selling the parcel of land out by the lake?”
“Why do you want it?” she asked. More money!
“The rabbit hunting and my land runs on two sides of it.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” she said.
“I can offer a fair price.”
She nodded, letting the conversation lapse. She still had an idea of the oil derrick removed and a little summer cottage sitting out there. But why not sell it, she wasn’t going to stay.
“You planning to remodel here?” he asked.
“I thought I’d just start by painting.”
“Your mother used the garage here for storage. I imagine you’ve turned up some interesting things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Antiques, that sort of thing.”
“You have a claim to make on something in there?”
“No. not at all. Just being nosy,” he said. “There might be some evidence or record about your father’s death in there. You might want to hand it over to the sheriff.”
Edward looked uncomfortable. Daydee realized he had to look up at her. She was sitting higher than he was. She smiled.
“Or you can come talk to me about it,” Edward said. “I represented her when they were looking into his death. It might not be smart to hand it over to the authorities.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.”
“Your mother was something. You were lucky with the wetbacks in the cemetery.”
It didn’t seem to be the time for her to ask questions about what he meant. He stood and waited as she pulled herself out of her chair.
“Are there pictures?” he asked.
Oh. Damn it!
“Somewhere in these boxes,” she laughed.
“Next time,” he said. “Would you like to come out with me for a bite to eat sometime?”
“I just couldn’t tonight.”
“Like Friday night?”
“Ok. Six?”
“Sure,” he said. “You know if you need any help here, just holler.”
She walked him to the door. He left looking happy. He had a date. She wasn’t sure she was happy about it.
She went to look into the garage again. It looked overwhelming. But now she was sure there was something to find in here. Not tonight. She still had to find her bedclothes. She really wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight.
Digging through the boxes turned them up and she made up the bed. This was the room her great-grandmother lived in. She could barely get out of bed and was really deaf and nearly blind. There was nothing in here but the bed and the dresser she had brought along. The wallpaper was curling in the corners and color was faded by the years. Certainly no ghosts here. It was a thousand years ago that the woman died. Daydee had been ten. Great-grandma had been ninety-seven. Outlived her husband by thirty years. Her bones were sitting out there in the cemetery, probably nearly dust now. There was an envelope on the dresser.
Her name was typed on the front. It was the same typewriter, Sean’s. Shit. She imagined him sitting up out there on their farm, typing through the night. Hanna already in bed long ago. The crickets outside the screen windows as he scribbled out what he wanted to say on a notepad – that was what she would do, you couldn’t commit it to a typewriter until you were sure what you wanted to say – and then typing slowly and carefully.
This was unbearable. It was like being handed somebody’s intestine. What should she do with it? Give to Hanna? No. Mail it back to him? No. She opened it. It was only one sheet. In the middle of the page was typed: “I apologize.” She took it to the kitchen and dropped it into the only wastebasket she had. Rest in peace, kind letter.
* * *
She stumbled to the kitchen for coffee about ten the next morning. The summer sun was pouring in the front windows. Curtains. She had to dig around for the coffee maker. The overhead light in the kitchen blinked and went out. And light bulbs. Plugging in the television, she watched the Terra Haute traffic and weather before she dressed and started unpacking. At noon, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She left the dishes half put away and went into the garage. Sunlight shone through the one dirty window. It was a ray of pure swirling dust. There were boxes of stuff everywhere. And old furniture and tires and tools. No caskets at least. No body bags. She opened the first box in front of her. It was old dusty moldy bibles. A real big one looked like it must be important. She pulled it out and realized it was the family bible. There were all the family records written down in here. Starting in 1857, it listed all the marriages, the births and deaths and ended with her birth in 1952. Some of the names were familiar. There were cousins and family that had moved away or were dead that she didn’t know at all. Having a book that big, made you want to keep it and read parts of it like you were supposed to. Maybe someday.
She set it aside and opened another box. It was full of money. All neatly stacked with a rubber band around each stack. There were stacks of twenties, fifties and hundred dollar bills. She couldn’t quite believe it. She carried it out to her kitchen table and got out a notepad to count it out. She stacked it out in front of her. The box had fifty thousand dollars in it. She held several of the bills up to the light. They looked real. She was silly with disbelief. This would help a lot, if this was all real. If they weren’t stolen and somehow marked. She threw them back into the box and went out to look for more.
She found six more boxes with money in them. Slowly counting it out, as if the counting was going to make it really come true, she tallied up eight hundred thousand dollars. And there were other boxes in the garage that she couldn’t get to. She just kept shaking her head.
Was this what Edward was interested in? Were they partners in some kind of illegal thing? Selling drugs? Why would you hide money in boxes in your garage if it was legal? This explained a lot. Her mother didn’t need money, she could just come over and get whatever she needed. This was crazy. If you had this kind of money, wouldn’t you live better? Buy yourself nice things?
Daydee guessed it might be considered part of the estate, if anyone knew about it. Why was she even thinking like this? When had she ever been law-biding? It would be subject to inheritance tax and federal tax. Better no one knew. She got out her empty suitcase and filled it and put it in her closet and piled some boxes in front of it and then closed the door and stacked more boxes before the door. The rest she put in garbage bags and squeezed it under her bed in the middle so it would take some getting to. And then pushed a couple of old blankets after it, so you would have to pull out a lot before you’d ever find the money.
The very last of it she stuck in the bottom drawers in her bathroom and put feminine stuff on top, like Kotex and make-up and a bag of rollers. Things the guys would avoid touching. While she was doing this, she was fantasizing about what she could do. With this kind of money, she could go anywhere, do anything. Go back to New Orleans. Open up a shop or something. Go to Paris, France! She was goddamn free!
Chapter ten
She had a hard time falling asleep. All of this was too crazy. She must have dozed, because a loud crash woke her up. What was that? Glass was shattering on the floor outside her door. A window was being forced. She could hear grunts like somebody climbing in. What the hell? She was on her feet in a second. The shotgun was out at the cemetery. There was a broom and knives in the kitchen. A frying pan. She flicked all the lights on as she dashed for the kitchen.
“The police are on their way asshole!” she screamed.
She was grabbed from behind in the kitchen. The lights were off again and two guys had her by the arms. She kicked but couldn’t connect.
“Shit, Mujer-Parada!” one of the guys ordered.
“I’m going to scream my head off, you sons of bitches!”
They stuffed a dishtowel in her mouth. The big one slugged her.
“Calm down and you won’t get hurt.”
They forced her down into a kitchen chair. There was now a pistol in her face.
“Don’t move.”
Her jaw ached big time. She hoped nothing was broken. There were others moving in the hallway. All the lights were off again. Five women came past the kitchen doorway and filed into the living room. The way they moved made them seem as frightened as she was. She reached up to remove the dishtowel. The gun waved at her.
“No se supone que no se debe a nadie aqui,” the big guy said.
The other one shrugged.
“¿Y ahora que?”
“We spend the day, like planned. There’s nowhere else to g
o.”
He waved the pistol at her as a question.
She pulled the towel out of her mouth. Her jaw really hurt.
“I’ll be quiet.”
“Why are you here?” the big guy asked.
“I live here,” she said.
“Since when?”
“About three days ago.”
“You have to share it with us until this evening. When it gets dark again. You understand?”
Daydee nodded. It was beginning to get light outside the kitchen window.
“We rented this house. We should get a refund. Who told you could live here?”
“My mother owned it. She died.”
“You can give us our money back then.”
“I don’t have any cash here. I can go to the bank.”
“How about food? You know how to cook?”
She nodded.
“Rosa. Blanca, come help this women make something for us for breakfast.”
Daydee needed to make friends with these women. They came in and without really talking, made a stew with everything she had. It wasn’t really enough to feed six people, but they served up bread and butter and jam with it. Everyone seemed starved. Daydee went into an unpacked box to pass out blankets to everyone. The two women cleaned the dishes. The other two women in the group, a grandmotherly looking lady and a teenage girl both ate, but then sat on the floor in the corner of the living room close to one another.
The big guy looked at her.
“You have a bedroom?”
Daydee nodded. He waved the gun at her, so she led him into the bedroom.
“We are going to sleep now,” he told her. “You tired?”
“You woke me up.”
He laughed and sat down on the bed.
“We will leave after the sun goes down. Can you be friendly until then?”
Daydee knew she had to make a decision right now.
“I can be real friendly.”
“You are not bad looking, even with a baby. How old are you?”
“Too old,” she smiled at him. “You want to feel good?”
His eyes widened.
“Sure.”
She went over and closed the door and came back to him. They all looked like little boys stealing cookies. She got down on her knees in front of him and carefully unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He pulled down his jeans and underwear. He was hard. Taking it in her mouth, she began to work him.