My Kind of People

by Lisa Duffy

  Sweet Maggie echoing in her head on a loop. Her father’s voice loud in her thoughts, deafening almost, until she closes her front door behind her and stares in the mirror on the wall.

  Stares and stares, refusing to look away while she studies the expression on her face. Takes in every feature. Every frown line and wrinkle.

  She lets what’s inside of her reflect in the mirror—this time, she won’t smile it away.

  It hurts to do this. Every part of her wants to look away.

  But she stays. She looks at herself. Angry. Furious, actually. Her eyes wide open for what feels like the first time in her life.

  20

  It’s official as of Monday morning. He’s unemployed.

  Leo knew this after talking to his boss on Friday, but when he opens his eyes on the first workday of the week, it somehow hits him even harder than expected.

  It’s nothing personal, he knows. He hadn’t been fired; his boss wanted to make it work. But it was five days in the office—no flexibility. The project he was assigned to required it. Late nights and impromptu client meetings. He knew the drill—he’d been in this business long enough to know he’d have to move back to the city.

  And in his mind, that just wasn’t an option anymore.

  So he quit. The first time he’s quit a job in his whole life.

  He hasn’t even told Xavier. But they’ve barely spoken these last weeks. A couple of brief conversations. Voices tight and words clipped.

  Neither of them willing to give an inch.

  Money isn’t an issue, but it will be. He went through his finances last night, and he has enough savings to get by for three months, maybe four.

  He’s paying two mortgages now. His half of the condo and the mortgage on Brian and Ann’s house. Neither Brian nor Ann had life insurance. There wasn’t much left over in Brian’s and Ann’s accounts after the funeral fees. Just enough to pay the bills for a couple of months.

  Brian’s truck was so old, Leo was thankful when Brian’s firefighter buddies offered to take it off his hands. Ann’s car wasn’t an issue—they were driving it the night they were killed.

  Their financial situation didn’t surprise Leo. Ann was a teacher’s aide at the elementary school, a job she took after she gave up being a midwife. The hours too unpredictable after they adopted Sky. Brian had worked his way up at the fire station, but he was still young, his salary enough to cover the essentials with a little leftover for Sky’s sports and camps and the family vacation they took every year to Myrtle Beach.

  And Ichabod Island wasn’t the same place Leo’s parents had moved to all those years ago. Back then, you could get more for your money on Ichabod than on the mainland. Taxes were low, and land was available, and as long as you were willing to work, the island offered an opportunity to have a decent life—a home of your own. A living wage.

  Now it was expensive to live on the island. Million-dollar houses were being built. Houses on the water were untouchable unless you were wealthy. The summer crowd that swept through the island from Memorial Day to Labor Day brought in lots of money for rentals, but only for the folks who bought when prices were low.

  Folks like Agnes Coffin, whose ancestors were already wealthy when they came here. They came for the opportunity, just like Leo’s parents, but in a different form. Leo’s parents wanted a house they could afford. Paying jobs.

  Agnes’s family bought properties all over the island as though they were in a real-life Monopoly game.

  It was Agnes who now owned most of the waterfront summer rentals. And she priced out anyone who didn’t look or live like her. Those not white and wealthy need not apply.

  Which is one of the reasons Xavier doesn’t want to move here. He won’t listen when Leo explains that the Agnes Coffins of the world are everywhere. Even in Boston, Xavier’s beloved city. Leo won’t be chased away from his hometown. His island. He knows the heart of this place. The same place that welcomed his parents and gave them a life his mother always called “blessed.”

  But Leo’s not stupid enough to tell Xavier that he doesn’t have a job anymore. Not until he has a plan. The next step in place for his future.

  He doesn’t like lying about it—and in Leo’s mind, not telling Xavier is lying. But right now, it’s one more reason for Xavier to insist that this isn’t working.

  Leo’s lying in bed, running all this through his head, when suddenly he gets up. No sense in letting it overwhelm him. Not when there is something he can do about it. Something he’s been thinking about ever since he learned that Mrs. Pearse died and his childhood home is vacant.

  The tide waits for no man, he thinks while he brushes his teeth and gets dressed.

  Sky’s door is shut, so he makes a cup of coffee and walks over to Joe’s house, even though it’s not yet seven in the morning. Joe is standing in his garden, a mug in one hand. A watering can in the other.

  “Ah, welcome to the land of unemployed misfits,” Joe says, raising his mug. “How’d it feel waking up a free man?”

  “Shitty,” Leo replies honestly. “Well, not entirely shitty. I won’t miss the city. Or the long hours. I’ll miss the work. And the paycheck, of course.”

  “You’re one of those morning people, aren’t you? A simple ‘good’ or ‘bad’ would’ve done.”

  Leo smiles. “You got a minute?” he asks. “I need a professional opinion on the state of this house.” He nods in the direction of Ann and Brian’s house. Joe puts down the watering can, sighs.

  “Absolutely. But I’ll tell you right now, it’s not going to be good news.”

  They walk to the back of the house, and Joe points to the roof.

  “I’ll give you the same bad news that I gave Brian when he asked for a list of what needed fixing. You’ve got maybe one winter left with the roof before it starts leaking on your head. See the gutters there? They’re not pitched right, so ten to one, there’s water sitting there from when it rained last night. No good. These windows are the originals, so you’re heating the outside in the winter and cooling it if you use AC in the summer.”

  Joe nods to the front, and Leo follows him around the house.

  “See up there?” Joe points to a large portion of the front of the house that’s missing shingles, only green construction paper covering the bare wood.

  “That’s from when I fell off the scaffolding. I told Brian to get someone over here to finish the job, and he didn’t. You’ve also got a boiler on its last leg. An electrical system from the dark ages. And a basement with a foundation issue, which is why you get water. It’s not the washing machine. It’s the crack the size of a canyon on the north side of the house.”

  Joe pauses, looks at Leo.

  “Is that all?” Leo asks.

  Joe shakes his head. “Nope. But I think it’s probably enough for now.”

  “Why is it in such bad condition? I mean, look at the places down the street!” He points to Joe’s house. And Maggie’s. And his old house, the one he grew up in. “They’re all the same house.”

  “Yup. And the people living in them kept up with the work,” Joe says, an edge to his voice. “Don’t even get me started. I was on Brian all the time. He’d rather have gone fishing than do anything on this house. He finally let me fix the front. And that was a shit show. Should’ve left well enough alone and minded my own business.”

  Something in Joe’s voice makes Leo pause and look at him. “A shit show how?”

  Joe shrugs, his eyes on the house. “Not worth talking about. They were my friends.”

  He begins to walk away, back to his own house.

  “Hey. Wait a second.” Leo jogs until he’s walking beside Joe. “That’s when you fell, isn’t it? When you got hurt.”

  They’re in Joe’s backyard again. Leo watches while Joe picks up the watering can and fills it with water from the faucet on the side of the house. He brings the can to the tomato plants and tips it over the green leaves.

  “You’re not going to answer me?�
�� Leo asks.

  “I forgot the question.”

  “Oh, come on, man. I’ve known you a long time. You don’t just say something like that if it’s not bothering you. So what—you fell and Brian didn’t pay you for the work?”

  “We didn’t exchange money. I did work on the house when I was in between jobs. Ann sent dinner over the entire time my wife was sick. Wasn’t ever going to take a dollar from them.” He puts down the watering can.

  When he straightens, Leo steps in close to him, holds his eyes. “I saw something on Sky’s face when we found those empty bottles in the basement. And my best friends went over a cliff and nobody seems to know why. If you know anything about what was going on at their house, tell me. As my friend too.”

  Joe sighs. “I don’t know anything. Look, Leo. I’m just a simple guy. Take people at face value. Brian and Ann were always just good people—”

  “What happened?”

  Joe looks over his shoulder, back at Leo. “This stays between me and you. Got it?”

  Leo motions for him to hurry up. Sky will be up any second, and he doesn’t want her to wander outside and hear them.

  “I’m up on the scaffolding on the second floor, replacing the shingles. It’s the middle of the day. Two, three o’clock. Brian’s at work. Ann’s somewhere in the house. Sky is at school. I’m in front of that window when something inside catches my eye.” He points to the second-floor bathroom window. “I know it’s the bathroom, so I move. I mean, Ann knows I’m on the scaffolding. But maybe she forgot or something. The shade is up, so I can see right in, eye level. I sidestep a little. Move out of sight. And that’s when I hear it. A knock on the glass. I glance over, and through the window I see Ann waving for me to come closer. Her face right up to the glass.” Joe clears his throat, pauses, his cheeks suddenly flushed.

  “And?” Leo urges. “Ann taps on the window for you to come closer…”

  Joe swallows. “And I sort of lean in, my eyes up to the glass, thinking she’s going to ask me something. But she backed up. Now she’s standing in the middle of the bathroom. Just, um, looking at me.” He swallows again. “You know… smiling.” He shuffles his feet, picks at his fingernail.

  “Joe—she was smiling at you? What’s the big deal—”

  “She was naked,” Joe whispers, and looks over his shoulder. “And not just out-of-the-shower naked. High heels, posing for me naked. Waving at me to come inside. Calling me inside.”

  “What? No.” He shakes his head. “Ann? Ann Pope? She was like, Mother Teresa.” He pauses. “Maybe she thought you were Brian.”

  Joe scowls. “Yeah, maybe her nickname for him was Joe. She was looking right at me. This bright lipstick on. Calling my name.”

  Leo is silent, considering this. “Well, what did you do?” Leo asks finally.

  “I fell off the scaffolding, you idiot.” He points to the scar on his leg. “That’s what happens when a sixty-year-old man is surprised by a naked lady in high heels. I wasn’t aware until then that it was an occupational hazard.”

  Leo doesn’t know what to say. He’s not trying to picture Ann naked. He’s trying to picture her in high heels and lipstick.

  The whole scenario is bizarre.

  “What happened when you came home? I mean, did she ever mention it?”

  “Nope. She came to the hospital. Brought flowers and muffins.” He paused. “This is the weird part. She didn’t just not mention it—she didn’t seem to even remember it. I could tell when she asked how I fell. She said she was downstairs doing the dishes when she heard a thump outside. Not a hint of anything in her eyes.” Joe looks at him. “There was a naked lady calling to me in that bathroom. But it wasn’t Ann. Not the one we knew.”

  They stand in silence, both of them turning to look at the house.

  Leo’s eyes drift to the second floor where the bathroom sits. He imagines the window looking out at the street. He squints, staring at the image in his thoughts, as though if he looks hard enough, this naked stranger in high heels and lipstick might somehow reappear.

  * * *

  By the time he returns home, Sky is in the den watching cartoons, a bagel in front of her. She smiles when she sees him, and he plants a light kiss on the top of her head.

  “What’s up today? Want to beach it?” he asks.

  She shakes her head. “My easel is done. I want to go out to the cliff and paint a picture. Can I go when I finish my bagel?”

  “Are we talking the edge of the cliff or just near it?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to fall off the cliff. You worry about the weirdest things.”

  “Maybe I should come with you. You know, just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s through the woods.”

  She laughs. “There are thirty trees in between us and the ocean. And my tree house is in the middle. Which is actually in my backyard.”

  He glances out the window. “They said there’s a chance of a shower. What if it rains?”

  “Then I’ll come home.”

  “Your easel will get wet.”

  “It’s already set up under a tree with branches. Joe brought it out. And he made this box where I can leave the painting while it dries. I don’t have to carry anything.”

  He starts to argue but decides against it. He roamed all over these parts alone when he was a kid. Why shouldn’t she be able to walk a straight line through the wooded backyard?

  “I’m going upstairs for a second. Stay put, okay? I want to set some ground rules before you leave.”

  She nods, and he turns, takes the steps two at a time before he forgets what he wanted to do.

  In the bathroom, he locks the door and opens the medicine cabinet. In the basement after he and Joe found the whiskey bottles, Sky had said Brian and Ann argued over pills.

  He scans the shelves for a prescription bottle. But there’s only toothpaste and floss. A shelf with hairbands, a few tampons, small mouthwash bottles, and nail files. Another with so many tiny jars of cream, his eyes blur. In the corner on the bottom shelf, there’s a lone bottle of Advil. He shakes one out into his hand and puts it back when he sees the tiny letters imprinted on the pill.

  He closes the cabinet and rifles through the vanity drawers, emptying each one onto the counter, shaking out washcloths and hand towels to make sure nothing is concealed. Under the sink, a large basket holds cleaning products, a hair dryer, and an assortment of curling irons.

  The small linen closet in the hallway doesn’t offer any clues. Just towels and more towels. The only other upstairs room is Sky’s bedroom. From the look on her face when she mentioned the pills it’s clear that she had no idea what they are. Never mind where they are.

  He walks downstairs to his bedroom, stands in the doorway and looks around. He’s still living out of a suitcase. Brian’s and Ann’s clothes are still in their respective dressers. The closet filled with their coats and dresses, shirts and shoes.

  When Leo moved in, he’d slept on an air mattress in the den for weeks. It was only when Sky mentioned that she’d lost her TV room that he considered sleeping in Brian and Ann’s room. Even then, it seemed strange to him.

  Then one Saturday morning, he’d packed up the air mattress and put it in the closet, and within the hour, Sky was curled up on the couch in the den watching cartoons. And he realized this was probably her routine.

  One she’d lost when he moved in.

  It seemed cruel to him. Adding insult to injury. He’d grown up with a den just like this. He remembered watching cartoons in the morning, his parents sipping coffee in the other room. So much had changed for her, so quickly.

  He decided then and there to try to put as much of her life back together as he could.

  He’d gone into Brian and Ann’s room, taken a deep breath, and stripped the bed straight down to the bare mattress. He was afraid to breathe. Afraid some scent would trigger a memory. Maybe the cigars Brian smoked. Or the per
fume Ann wore.

  He threw everything in a trash bag and took it to the dump. Hauled the mattress and the metal frame there too.

  Xavier was the shopper between the two of them, and by that night, they had a new queen mattress with freshly washed sheets and brand-new pillows. Of course, Leo was the only one who slept there.

  Xavier wouldn’t budge from the couch. Not until they had the talk with Sky. The one Xavier insisted on having to explain that they were married. And sleeping together.

  Leo refused. He couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable. She knew they were gay. She was the flower girl at their wedding.

  Xavier rolled his eyes when Leo said this. “That’s it? That’s all you have? That doesn’t mean she knows we sleep together. That we have sex.”

  “What? Xavier—this is crazy. First of all—there is a door on the bedroom. One that locks. Look—she has enough to deal with right now without us giving her the sex talk. You can go there if you want, but I’m out.”

  “I can go there? Oh, that’s ripe. I have zero experience with kids. No—less than zero—negative. Negative experience. I wasn’t even good with kids when I was a kid! You see what happens. Sky comes in the room, and I freeze. I have no idea what to say to her. What do ten-year-old girls even do? I mean—we have nothing in common.”

  “You’re a person. She is too. Start with that,” he told him.

  It had been the wrong thing to say. Leo knew it when it passed his lips.

  But he had been tired and stressed and overwhelmed. Normally, Leo could handle Xavier’s anxiety. Manage his husband’s tendency to overanalyze every situation. But there was nothing normal about this situation.

  After he said it, Xavier had shut down right in front of him. His face went blank, and he turned and walked away. Leo had thought they might talk about it again.

  But they never did.

  Sky’s voice breaks the silence, startling him. He blinks, and she’s standing next to him in the bedroom doorway. She looks at him and scans the room.

  “Why are you just standing here?” she asks.