Brett Barney - Remember Me.txt

by Remember Me

A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 189

  Heather smiled at the remark, the way a young schoolgirl would. Heather did this often,

  trying to fit in with everyone around her. Margaret didn’t buy it anymore. She knew there were

  two faces to this woman before her. She put her feelings aside, once again taking up the role of

  the well mannered neighbor kid. Down the hallway, someone had seen a new face on her as well.

  Margaret helped Heather and Carol put the groceries away. She couldn’t see the hallway

  from inside the kitchen, but knew that Todd had gained enough courage to step out of his study

  by now. He would run to his bedroom and find them there, then relief would set in. The relief

  would only last a moment, and then the original shock would return. It took only a few minutes

  before she heard the front door closing as the nervous mayor left the house for some air. He

  could hardly talk straight as he uttered a quick explanation for how he needed to run to the office

  to pick up some papers. The man never even exchanged glances with Margaret. She had left her

  impression.

  Once the mayor left the house, Margaret returned from her dubious state to her usual self.

  She felt good, as though she had accomplished something grand, and wanted to do something

  fun tonight. Margaret talked Carol into seeing a show that evening, and they decided to hit a

  burger bar for some fast food before the movie. The two said good-bye to Heather as they left

  her alone with her sons in the large house.

  Margaret sat down with her journal as soon as she got home that evening. Her aunt and

  uncle were already in bed after coming home from the horse show. They had left a plate of food

  out in the refrigerator for her to eat, but right now she just wanted to get her thoughts down on

  paper.

  “...Today I did something which I’m not proud of. I forced Todd to disrobe before me at

  his home while Heather was there, just to get back at Jeremy and every other guy like him. I also

  wanted to prove to myself that he wasn’t all that Heather talked him up to be. He really wasn’t.

  I’m sure I really upset him when it was over. He’s really insecure and I wanted to get

  back at him as much as at Heather for what they did. I intend to ruin them both before I am

  finished here. It all sounds so terrible when I write it on paper, but I’m glad I did it. I have only

  begun here.

  I guess I did it to get even with Heather. I feel terrible, but at the same moment,

  vindicated. I shouldn’t have used Todd that way, but then I know he’s used many people

  throughout his lifetime. I guess my emotions blinded me slightly, but it felt good to see

  somebody squirm like that. It’s demeaning to say this, but I got some sort of thrill out of doing it,

  and I wish I could turn back the clock and do the same thing to Jeremy the first time I saw him

  naked.

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 190

  Tomorrow I will travel out of town to try to find Greg Thompson. I want to try to get him

  together with Heather. Then all I need is to have Todd catch them and start asking questions.

  That should make things uneasy on both ends. I still don’t know what I will do from there. I

  don’t want to hurt Carol or her brothers in any way, but I have to give Heather a taste of her own

  medicine...”

  Margaret woke up after nine the next morning. Her aunt had made breakfast early, but sat

  down to fix Margaret a meal when she appeared from her room. Margaret enjoyed the chat with

  her aunt, and then escaped to the bathroom for a shower. Her eagerness caused her to move

  much faster than the day before. She took a road map with her, feeling sure of her next move.

  Her aunt didn’t even ask her where she planned to go as Margaret left the house for her car, not

  all that odd, her aunt knew that she could take care of herself. Margaret wondered how much

  more her aunt knew about her.

  It was almost noon when she arrived in the small town after a short drive. The founders

  had set the roads on a grid, and she found the building quite easily. Not a very large town, she

  thought to herself, the size where everyone knows who you are, and secrets are hard to keep. It

  wasn’t much larger than Deer Hollow, but in Deer Hollow, some families still had their secrets.

  She parked far away from the building, not wanting her car in plain view. Margaret

  climbed out of her car and walked into the auto shop. The business sold tires, and she decided to

  use that as her front to get some information. The shop didn’t seem very busy at this time of the

  afternoon, so she hoped the attendant wouldn’t walk out to take a look at the four brand new tires

  on her vehicle.

  A young man sat behind the counter, talking with another customer on the phone. He was

  a thin, wiry looking young kid, only a year out of high school, if that. He had pulled his long

  dark hair back into a pony tail and his blue, button down shirt hung loosely over the black T-shirt

  he wore beneath. He nodded at her politely, only because he had to, and returned to the person

  on the phone who had clearly irritated him from the look on his face. Margaret used the wait as a

  chance to look around the store before talking with the salesperson.

  The shop was a fairly large operation, but the building looked old. There were three

  garages, two occupied by other automobiles which had come in for repairs. Several other

  employees were out in the garage working on the two cars. Margaret didn’t see anyone who

  looked as old as she imagined Greg Thompson. No one really looked older than twenty-one.

  As Margaret walked around the waiting room, she noticed an office next to the front desk

  which looked like it belonged to the management. She could tell that she still had a minute

  before the salesman would get to her. He buried his face in a book, and held his hand to his

  forehead, trying to rub out the intense headache the call had caused. He paid no attention to

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 191

  Margaret, and her curiosity overcame her. She walked over and looked through the window at

  the unoccupied office, hoping to find some sign that this was the place.

  The last person inside had left the light on, and Margaret could see a family picture

  sitting on the desk inside. The owner had a beautiful young family, a boy and a girl. His wife

  looked like a model, her dark brown hair perfectly done for the proud picture of her family. Old

  newspaper clippings decorated the wall of the office, and Margaret recognized one of the articles

  immediately, even from the long distance separating her and the wall.

  It was the same article that she had discovered Greg Thompson’s identity from, the

  article of that homecoming night, when her conception had occurred. The sight of the clipping

  sent a chill down Margaret’s spine. She knew immediately that this was the man whom Heather

  had spent that evening with. This was Margaret’s real father.

  “Can I help you, Miss?” asked a voice behind her.

  Margaret turned around suddenly to face the man who had just finished talking on the

  phone. She knew she had jumped quite badly as he startled her with his intrusion. She felt

  embarrassed to get caught snooping around and her face turned bright red
.

  “Are you Mr. Thompson?” Margaret asked, trying to act air-headed.

  “No,” answered the gentleman, “but if he was here, you were looking in the right place.

  That’s his office there, and he’s usually in there working on the books. Did you need to speak

  with him?”

  “Oh, no,” answered Margaret. “I just wondered what Mr. Thompson looks like. I heard

  he was an old football star.”

  “Yeah, that’s usually all you get to hear about around here. He’s sure proud of his glory

  days. He’ll be out for another hour, he’s to lunch. As a matter of fact, he only left about ten

  minutes ago, you just missed him. You could come back then if you want to see him.”

  “No,” answered Margaret with a grin. “My dad just played ball with him when they were

  both younger. He sent me here because he said Mr. Thompson was an honest man. I usually like

  to talk to the managers of the stores when I come in to ask questions, that way I know I’m not

  getting ripped off. Women get taken at auto shops.”

  “Mr. Thompson’s a pretty fair man. I can give you some prices now if you’d like, and

  you can shop around for a bit. He’ll beat any other price you find in town. There’s only two other

  shops here, so you can check around if you would like and come back when he’s here to deal

  with him directly.”

  “That sounds great,” Margaret answered. “I got the price for the tires I need off your

  display, so I’ll check around and drop back by in about an hour.”

  “Sounds good,” answered the man as he went back to the shop to finish the car that he

  worked on.

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 192

  Margaret left the shop and walked out to her car. She couldn’t have asked for things to go

  smoother. She drove about a block down the road, and then stepped out of her car and walked

  back to a phone booth where she could see into the shop. She looked around her first, making

  sure that the man who had just helped her didn’t notice her standing there. She stood at a booth

  across the street and half way down the block from the shop. Margaret dialed the number and

  watched to see who would answer the call.

  One of the other employees working in the garage took his turn to answer the customer

  call, and Margaret knew he wouldn’t recognize her voice. She could tell by his walk that he

  didn’t like answering phone calls, but in all honesty, she really didn’t care. She watched him pick

  up the phone and heard the voice through her end of the line.

  “Good Afternoon, Thompson’s Auto.”

  “Is Mr. Thompson in, please?” Margaret asked over the phone.

  “No, he’s out to lunch right now. Can I help you?”

  “Would you mind taking a message for me?” Margaret continued.

  “Sure ma’am, let me grab a piece of note paper.”

  “Could you ask him to call Mrs. Heather Whitmore.”

  “Do you have a number?”

  “Sure,” answered Margaret, as she read the Whitmore’s number from her own notebook,

  “and could you ask him to call me right around four o’clock. It’s really important.”

  “All right ma’am, I’ll make a note of that and make sure he gets it as soon as he returns

  from lunch.”

  “Thank you,” answered Margaret as she hung up the phone. She watched the person walk

  over and place the small note on the door to Greg Thompson’s office, and felt satisfied with the

  call. Upon returning the short distance to her car, she looked at her watch and realized she had

  only about an hour to reach Heather’s house. She started the engine of the reliable little car and

  started back towards Harrison.

  Margaret reached the Whitmore home a little after three thirty. Todd’s car wasn’t there,

  but the other vehicle sat in the driveway. She felt relieved that traffic had remained sparse on the

  drive, and that no officers patrolled the road as she sped back to Harrison. She climbed out of the

  car quickly, anxious to see Heather’s face when the call came. Margaret walked up to the door,

  hoping that Carol was home.

  “Hi, Margaret,” uttered Carol as she opened the door. “I’ve been trying to reach you since

  lunch, your aunt didn’t know where you were.”

  “I was out looking around some other parts of the valley. I was on my way back into

  town and thought I would drop by for a visit. Are you busy?”

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 193

  “No,” answered Carol. An afternoon spent alone with her mother meant she would enjoy

  a visit from almost anyone, but she felt particularly relieved to see Margaret. “Come right in. My

  mom and I were sitting around watching some talk shows, but we can go do something if you

  would like.”

  “Actually, it’s really hot outside. I wouldn’t mind sitting around in the air conditioning

  for a while until I can cool off.”

  Margaret knew that Carol had wanted to escape, but her friend had no idea what the

  future would bring. After the call, Margaret promised herself, then she would rescue Carol from

  an exciting afternoon with her mother. Margaret didn’t outright lie to her friend, the ride had

  caused perspiration to appear across her skin, and the cool air felt good against it.

  Margaret followed Carol into the family room where Heather sat on the couch. She

  seemed deeply involved in the show and didn’t even notice Margaret as she walked in. She

  didn’t look like her usual self today, dressed in cheaper and more comfortable shorts and a loose

  shirt. She pulled her hair out of her eyes, not wanting to bother with it while she watched the

  television.

  The overall mood of the house seemed more relaxed today. Carol’s brothers roamed the

  neighborhood outside, and all three in the house had dressed down for the unbearable heat.

  Margaret wished she could exchange her denim shorts for something more comfortable like

  Carol wore. Things about the house seemed different today, nobody to entertain. Heather

  escaped the world for some enchanted daydream in the back of her mind, but she hadn’t changed

  any. Things only seemed different.

  The three sat around enjoying the show for some time. Margaret watched the clock

  carefully, waiting for the phone call. Carol had retrieved two cold sodas from the refrigerator to

  quench their thirsts as they watched the big screen. The cool refresher created a burning

  sensation in her mouth as the tiny bubbles danced down her dry throat on the path to her

  stomach. It hit the spot after an hour drive in the hot afternoon sun.

  The phone rang promptly at four. Heather picked it up and uttered a hello into the

  receiver. Margaret watched as a look of terror came over her face and she snapped out of the

  trance created by an afternoon of television. The look lasted only a moment.

  “Well, hello Mrs. Brubaker,” Heather uttered into the receiver as she regained her

  composure. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today .... No, I don’t recall .... Yeah, it has been a

  while .... Well sure, that sounds lovely .... Tomorrow at nine for a late breakfast .... Yes Mrs.

  Brubaker, I’ll be there .... Count on it.”

  Heather sat down the phone and looked back at the two girls. She smiled over at

  Margaret for a moment, but then turned aro
und to watch the television again. The woman could

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 194

  handle herself under pressure, much better than her husband. Heather returned to the semiconscious

  state as the television once again soaked her up in its tempting trance.

  Margaret’s hopes fell as she continued to wait. She finally gave up hope at a quarter to

  five, and suggested to Carol that they go out and get some fresh air. The girls didn’t even wake

  Heather from her nap as they walked out the door. Margaret found it odd that she had such a

  smile on her face while she slept.

  Margaret got home early in the evening and went out for a ride with her uncle. The

  peaceful open range took her mind off the tension she felt, and allowed her some time to unwind.

  They brought Carol along with them and took it easy, as she had only ridden one time before

  this.

  The three returned just before sunset, putting the gear away and feeding the horses with

  the last moments of light fading away. Carol joined Margaret and her relatives for dinner, and the

  three had a long, enjoyable conversation.

  Margaret had informed Carol before meeting her relatives that her aunt and uncle thought

  they knew each other from school. She explained that they would have thought she was crazy for

  talking to somebody she hardly knew and becoming such good friends so soon. Carol understood

  and went along with the lie, so it wouldn’t worry the older couple.

  Carol left soon after dinner, and Margaret returned to her room for the evening. She

  broke out the journal and quickly wrote down the events of the day. She had hoped that her real

  father would call Heather, but now knew that she would have to try something else.

  “... Today I got up and took a ride out to the business of Greg Thompson. After finding

  him, I’m sure he is the man who fathered me. He owns a small auto shop about an hour away

  from here.

  He’s the same man who scored a touchdown against Harrison, winning their

  homecoming game, and his jersey had the number 87 on it. It fits together perfectly. I didn’t get

  the chance to see him face to face, but did view a picture of him with his family. I have a feeling

  I will bump into him eventually.

  I left the message for him as I indicated I would do yesterday, but he never responded.