The Units

by Jamie Mackay

Chapter 11

  Saturday morning was rainy. Not like the five minute thundershowers she'd come to know happened in Wainwright, but real honest-to-god rain. The skies were grey for as far as Tatum could see, and one thing you could do on the Prairies was see a long way. Despite the rainy skies and the previous day's events, Tatum found herself looking forward to getting up and getting going. Today was yoga day and that meant she might get to spend some more girl time with Sam. Contrary to Sam's riddling, Tatum had not run into Sam even a single time since last week's meeting.

  Tatum was careful to choose yoga clothes different than those she'd worn the week before. She expected that if Seymour Hill lacked any recent insulation as she suspected it did, it would be equally as cold this week as it was hot last week.

  This time she knew where she was going and the process of negotiating her way through the building was much simplified. She had also allowed herself more time. She had two reasons. First, she wanted to make certain that she would be able to find some space near Sam and, second, she preferred to avoid being gawked at like a circus animal by the other women as she came into the room.

  "Well, good morning! I'm so glad you decided to come back!" said Shirley with the kind of energy that only a holistic yoga instructor can portray.

  "Did you have doubts?" Tatum teased.

  "Well," said Shirley, "Sometimes new recruits gets scared off by my lion pack here." She looked disapprovingly around the room. "Sorry about last week, as you may have guessed, we don't get too many new faces around here."

  "No problem," responded Tatum "I actually felt very welcome." Tatum chose to keep the end to the sentence, by Sam, to herself.

  Tatum found a spot over near where she had carefully placed her mat and water bottle the week before. The time seemed to pass very slowly until she finally saw Sam meander her way through the door; she looked as if she'd just gotten out of bed. Slowly she glanced around the room and when she caught sight of Tatum she started to make her way over toward the new recruit.

  "Hey girl! Glad to see you back" said Sam.

  "Glad to be back," answered Tatum. Sam rubbed her face giving her eyes a rub that Tatum thought might have been too hard to be healthy.

  "You okay?" Tatum asked.

  "Yeah. Just worked too late last night."

  "What do you do?" inquired Tatum.

  But before Sam had a chance to answer, Shirley instructed, "Okay, let's get started ladies. Warm-up starts on the mats today."

  .

  Yoga class was good. Deep stretches and relaxation felt especially beneficial after Tatum's work events the day before. Still, she felt impatient for the class to be over so that she could get to work on developing her friendship with Sam. She so missed having female friends to hang out with.

  Finally Shirley announced, "Alright ladies. That's a wrap. See you next week. Good job today!" More of that holistic yoga instructor type energy.

  Tatum was hoping Sam wasn't in hurry.

  "You in a hurry?" she asked her new friend.

  "Not today. I basically have nothing planned. What have you got in mind?"

  "Well, since I've been in Wainwright, I've yet to taste any of the exotic cuisine," Tatum said with a smirk. "I thought maybe we could grab some breakfast. I'm starving."

  "That sounds like a great idea," responded Sam. "Want me to pick?"

  Tatum knew Sam was joking; of course she'd have to pick, Tatum knew nothing.

  Sam had driven to yoga. Tatum wasn't surprised. She was finding that people drove all over in Wainwright, even just a couple of blocks. Tatum got into the passenger side of Sam's Honda Civic; it was older but had been taken care of and Sam obviously kept it clean.

  "How's 'Johnny's' sound?"

  "Sounds good to me," Tatum answered even though she hadn't a clue what 'Johnny's' was.

  Johnny's turned out to be a family run restaurant on Main Street. It reminded Tatum of family restaurants on the older side of Chicago, not much to look at but the food was good.

  "Johnny's has been here as long as I can remember," explained Sam. "I'm not even sure who Johnny was anymore, or even if there actually was a Johnny. Oh well. They make good bacon."

  Tatum and Sam walked up the few stairs into the dated restaurant. Tatum knew she wasn't an expert in dating design, but she was pretty certain the floors and furniture were pre-1960s. The door was heavy with a set of wooden bars that crossed at a diagonal and held a bell that rang when it opened to let the workers know that patrons had arrived. The tables had laminate tops and metal edging; the chairs were peacock blue with gold sparkles and brass coloured fasteners running along all the edges. The whole place smelled a little bit like Chinese food and disinfectant. Nearly every table was full.

  "Saturday coffee crowd," explained Sam.

  Tatum looked around. Everyone in 'Johnny's' looked like the couple in the bus stop from her first day. At most of the tables, there were older men, most in tilted ball caps, talking about the weather, especially the crop damage from the hail storm that week. At the remainder of the tables sat couples. Most of the men who sat with their wives were ignoring their table partner and reading the paper; some were attempting to join in the guy talk happening at adjacent tables. A few coffee timers were sitting alone at the bar stools aligning the waist high soda-shop style bar.

  .

  Tatum and Sam pulled up chairs at one of the only two remaining empty tables. Tatum found herself absentmindedly checking to make sure the table had been wiped… recently. A small Asian lady with a strong Chinese accent made her way over to their table, menus in hand. She said something Tatum didn't understand. Sam obviously had experience with communication in Johnny's; she looked expectantly at Tatum.

  "She asked what you would like to drink" she explained to Tatum.

  "Oh, sorry," said Tatum, "coffee is fine."

  Tatum realized as she ordered coffee that this would be her first cup of coffee in Wainwright that wasn't served by Milligan. When their coffee arrived, Tatum and Sam sipped slowly as they considered their menus. Sam didn't need much time, she'd obviously ordered off the same menu many times. The small Asian lady returned and Sam ordered the bacon and eggs. Assuming Sam's choice would be a safe bet, Tatum simply stated, "I'll have that too."

  While they waited for their breakfasts to arrived, Sam got right to the point.

  "So, Jake Makinley, hey? Wow!" She seemed genuinely impressed, or jealous, Tatum wasn't sure. "Has anybody told you that he's that hottest ticket in town?"

  "Yah, Anne, one of the nurses from work mentioned that," retorted Tatum. "How'd you know about that?"

  "This is Wainwright Tatum, nothing's a secret for long. Might as well get used to it."

  "Yah, I'm learning."

  "What'd you guys do?" Sam continued.

  Tatum wasn't sure how she felt about all these questions. She chose to believe that Sam was using her interaction with Jake as a way to further their friendship and that she wasn't just using Tatum to get some town gossip. Right now Tatum needed a friend badly enough, she was willing to take the chance.

  "He picked me up from the pouring rain and we went for coffee. That's it. Nothing earth-shattering I'm afraid."

  "More than any girl has gotten in years my dear. Well played," Sam said with a grin. "Did he tell you all about how he got to be Wainwright's most eligible bachelor?"

  "Yeah, sad story," said Tatum.

  "Are you gonna see him again?"

  "I'm not really sure. He mentioned something about a parade and fair? I was so distracted by his story about Julia and his mention of Brady that I can't really remember what he said. I guess if he phones, I'll know."

  "Parade and fair are next weekend. Are you gonna go if he phones?"

  "I think so. We had a really nice time together, but I don't know, I have always held to a 'no-kids' policy."

  "Yeah, me too. But, for Jake, I'd break any policy," Sam said laughing.

  .

  Breakfast was wonderful. Tatum was hungry and
the bacon was, as Sam had promised, the best Tatum had ever eaten. It was thick and crispy, like a real piece of meat. Tatum was determined that before they finished eating, she'd turn the conversation away from her so that she could learn more about her new friend.

  "Well, I guess from your response to my 'no-kids' policy that you have no kids. Are you married?" Tatum asked Sam.

  "I was," she answered.

  Tatum was careful not to assume she was divorced; her recent faux pas with that assumption was a little too fresh.

  "I'm working on a divorce. It's not always a quick process, even without kids involved."

  "Can I ask what happened?" Tatum wanted to keep Sam talking.

  "Just like lots of us Wainwright natives, Steve and I met in high school. We got married young and then I waited tables to get him through law school. He promised me my turn would come."

  "Did he become a lawyer?"

  "He sure did. A good one. Fit the bill perfectly, the shark. He actually used to work quite a bit on the oil stuff with Jake. They travelled together, lived the good life. Steve got caught up in it, Jake didn't."

  Tatum thought about Jake's words "I see some guys in my business get eaten up by the power, the money, the travel, the expensive food and drinks." Steve must have been one of them.

  "Got himself a girlfriend somewhere in the Middle East. Iran or something; one of those oil countries. Anyway, eventually he decided that she was what he wanted. That is, until the next one came along."

  "What'd you do?"

  "Kicked him out. But, found out pretty quickly that it's hard to fight a lawyer in court. He just stalls until I can't afford to pay my lawyer, so nothing ever gets decided."

  "Will you ever be able to get it done?" asked Tatum.

  "I've essentially given up. He can have everything. We don't have any kids so as long as I don't ask him for spousal support, I think he'll go away. I don't care anymore. Just want it done."

  "Yeah," said Tatum. "Are you still waiting tables?"

  "Sort of. But now they’re my own," explained Sam. Tatum wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "Last month, I went out on a limb. One I've been meaning to go out onto for a long, long time." More confusion on Tatum's face. "I opened a restaurant."

  The confused look turned to surprise.

  "It's a kind of upscale, trendy place called 'Depot' where we have open mike a few nights a week and live bands the rest."

  "That sounds great," said Tatum sincerely.

  "Yeah, I think so," said Sam, "but so far business has been slow. I'm not sure Wainwright was ready for upscale and trendy. This is more of a meat and potatoes town; goat cheese and candied pecans is not our usual fair," Sam said with a kidding tone.

  "Well, I for one know where my first dinner out will be," said Tatum supportively. "My parents run a chain of restaurants back home in Chicago. They started out slow too, but good food and good service always sells."

  "Thanks Tatum," said Sam quietly, "I actually really needed to hear that."

  .

  By the time breakfast was over Sam had invited Tatum to have dinner with her at 'Depot' with the intention that after dinner they would meet some of Sam's other divorced friends for some drinks at the pub.

  "So you'll meet me at work at 8?" Sam said out the window to Tatum as she dropped her off at her apartment.

  "You bet. Causal, right?"

  "Yup. Definitely casual."

  .

  Tatum was later than usual so that when she returned to her apartment, coffee time was already over. I'll explain to Milligan later, thought Tatum. She was certain her kind friend would be totally supportive of her trying to develop some other friends in Wainwright.

  She spent the rest of the morning and the bulk of the afternoon labouring on the work that remained to be done in the apartment. It had been a full week since the floors had been re-treated; she was again allowed to move furniture and do other activities that if completed earlier would have damaged her shiny new finish. She started by laying out the white shag carpet she had chosen as a focal point for the room. She followed the carpet with strategic placement of her dark brown couch and loveseat and finally she completed the seating area by closing the circle with her less than comfortable accent chair. With her new wrought iron wall hanging, neutral but complementary furniture and the allure of the architecture, Tatum found she was very pleased with the final result.

  The hours of scrubbing and polishing had paid off. She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do. The apartment looked restored, not changed. Milligan will be pleased, she thought as she flopped down onto her comfortable couch with a fresh cup of Earl Grey and a slightly dried-out blueberry scone she had found in the cupboard.

  .

  Late afternoon and early evening seemed to take forever. Time always seems to pass slowly when you want something to happen, she thought as she busily tried to fill time prior to her evening out. She called her mom and Sarah, got some news about the kids, the restaurant, the usual. Then, she read and re-read Niko's message, still unsure of how, or if, she would respond. Finally, as had become her custom when she wasn't in the mood to work and she had time to kill, she started googling WMI.

  Having gotten a bit better at WMI keywords, Tatum had a bit more success than she had experienced during previous search attempts. She came across two sites dedicated to theories about government conspiracies to complete unethical human research at WMI. She wrote these off as websites developed by nut-jobs and moved onto newspaper and other articles about events from years gone past. One article definitely caught her eye. "Social worker killed by mental patient," was the title in the Saskatchewan provincial newspaper. "Mental patient turned killer and rapist," read the title on a National paper. Each article came with a different title, but the story was the same. Beautiful, caring social worker is raped and strangled by WMI mental patient. Others in the vicinity, but no one heard or saw anything until it was over and she was already dead. Tatum shivered.

  .

  Tatum finally decided it was time to put her reading aside and start getting ready for the evening. She showered for the first time that day and then took her time deciding what she would wear. Casual, Sam had said. What is casual in Wainwright? She pondered. In Chicago, when someone said casual, that meant no formal gowns or tuxedos. Here Tatum suspected casual was taken a bit more literally. Jeans, always a safe bet, she decided.

  She knew somewhere in the bottom of her closet she had a pair of jeans that were too long with flats but looked great with a pair of black boots she kept mostly for when she went clubbing. Put together the too-high boots and extra long jeans made her legs look especially long and lean. Complemented with a camisole and see-through black knit top, she thought her attire could be considered casual, while still dressy enough to turn some heads. She left her hair down but added some curls to the back, a look that made her appear younger than her thirty one years. She put on just a bit more make-up than she'd worn her other days in Wainwright. Tatum had been in enough pubs and clubs over her university years to know the drill. She decided even the few blocks to the 'Depot' would likely be too much in her too-high boots. She called a cab.

  "That'll be six dollars," said the cabbie. Tatum handed him a ten feeling like she'd just stolen a cab ride.

  She was impressed with what she saw as she stepped out of the cab. 'Depot' was a stand-alone building a few blocks from Main Street. It appeared to be three stories. Tatum assumed the bottom floor was likely used for storage with the second and third floors reserved for the kitchen, eating and bar areas. The grey exterior was accented with nouveau type red writing that simply read 'Depot'. The sign was tastefully lit with a single spot light that ran its length. The stairs up to the main doors were flanked with red banisters that matched the coloring on the sign, and each of the stairs was lit by a single spot light running the length of the stair. As she approached, Tatum heard the distinctive sound of the soft jazz music that was being quietly piped into the entrance area.

/>   Tatum looked up from the stairs and saw Sam waiting anxiously for her with the front door held open.

  "Welcome," she said.

  "Very nice!" said Tatum. She meant it.

  Sam took Tatum for a personal tour. The restaurant section was tastefully decorated in the trendy uptown style Sam had promised. The floors were covered in shiny slate tile and buffed to a fine gloss. Sam had chosen grays and greens for the walls and the mix of soft and cool tones were perfectly accented by the velvety drop-down lighting. The tables were cappuccino brown and finished with full brown parsons chairs. Tatum thought Sam had done an excellent job of mimicking typical big city style.

  The back of the restaurant on the first floor was the kitchen, a perfectly kept stainless steel work area with the head chef and his helpers in crisp white linens. Sam introduced Tatum to her employees as she continued to tour her friend through her pride and joy. Upstairs had a similar decorating style but was more dimly lit. It was set up to be a lounge with a piano and small stage in the front.

  "It's not a night club," clarified Sam. "Our music choices are meant to complement conversation, not drown it out."

  "It's perfect," complemented Tatum. "People will definitely come." Tatum smiled, hoping her friend would share the reference to the movie 'Field of Dreams'.

  .

  Just as their day had begun, Tatum and Sam shared a delicious meal. On Sam's recommendation, Tatum chose the filet mignon with mushroom reduction and baby potatoes. Sam chose the salmon and shared some with Tatum. It was equally delicious. Given their meal choices, the women were unable to decide on whether to share a bottle of red or white. Sam settled the dilemma.

  "I know the owner. She'll comp us, so we can afford both."

  She winked and then ordered a bottle of white for herself and red for her new friend. When the wine arrived the waiter poured a small glass for each of the ladies to provide their approval. They both approved so he filled their glasses, almost to the top. Sam lifted hers and made a toasting motion.

  "To new friendship," she toasted.

  "To new friendship," Tatum agreed as she lifted her own glass.

  Tatum and Sam each finished their respective bottles of wine. By the time they moved onto coffee and desert, the two were feeling pretty uninhibited. The conversation shifted to husbands and boyfriends, old relationships and new possibilities.

  "So, have you thought about all of that naked?" Sam asked Tatum referring to Jake.

  Tatum blushed, "Not until now," she answered goofily.

  "What about Niko. Any good in that department?"

  Tatum paused. The wine made her overly sentimental and she suddenly missed Niko and home very much.

  "Niko is a great guy. Handsome, smart, successful and excellent in that department. Although I have to admit, I don't have much to compare him with; we've been together so long."

  "So, why the change of heart then?" Sam asked with a more serious tone.

  "We had our issues," answered Tatum, "and I just wanted to be sure." Suddenly, her thoughts shifted back to Jake.

  .

  Completely satisfied from their excellent meal, wine and conversation, the women decided it was time to move onto the evening's next event.

  "We are supposed to meet Nicole and Janet at 'Rusty's' around ten," said Sam, "We'd better get moving." Sam picked up the tab for the whole meal.

  "Thanks," said Tatum. "If you're ever in Chicago, dinner's on me. Well... on my dad." She winked.

  Nicole and Janet turned out to be two more thirty-somethings, both divorced. Nicole had two kids; Janet had three. Both explained that they were enjoying the new found freedom of their ex-husbands having the kids every second weekend. Tatum supposed that without Sam's introduction Nicole and Janet may not have been nearly so friendly to the new girl in town. But, given Sam's approval, they were more than willing to accept Wainwright's most recent resident into their little group.

  'Rusty's' was a pub on the outer perimeter of town, near the bus depot. It seemed to Tatum that it was the local choice for divorcees and middle agers wanting to hold onto their youth. She guessed that since she wasn't a divorcee, she likely fit more closely with the second category. Nicole and Janet both ordered beer. Sam and Tatum decided that, in an effort to reduce the pain in the morning, they should probably stick with their respective reds and whites. Country music played in the background. Janet, Nicole and Sam sang along and Tatum hummed. She had never been a country fan; she didn't know a single word.

  Several drinks passed, and Tatum finally stopped noticing the stares of the other people in the pub, men and women alike.

  "Wainwright women don't like 'fresh meat," said Nicole. "Means their possibilities might start shopping at a different butcher."

  "Yah, the women don't like it, but the men sure do," Janet added. "Look at them all drooling."

  Tatum was modest, she actually felt a bit embarrassed by the obvious attention she was receiving. Throughout the evening, several admirers had also approached the table and attempted to win her approval. "Thank you, but we're just having a 'girl's night'," was Tatum's reply each and every time. She really did want to just spend time with her new friends - it was the attention of women she craved. As if she needed another man in her life.

  .

  Tatum and Sam powered down first. Nicole and Janet decided that they were going to move onto the night club down the street from the pub where they had spent the evening. The less-energetic duo had started earlier and had definitely had their fill of wine. The two decided to share a cab; Tatum was closest and would be dropped off first.

  "That was fun," Sam said, "let's do it again." Tatum laughed at Sam slurring her words.

  "Yup. So much fun," Tatum said, not doing any better with her enunciation. "Nighty night," she called back to Sam through the window as she walked toward her apartment block.

  "Nighty night," she heard Sam reply, right before she laid her head down on the back seat of the taxi.

  .

  Tatum staggered her way up the apartment stairs, fumbled with her keys and finally made her way into the apartment lobby. She paused and let the room stop spinning and then started the trek up to apartment 203. Once she was in her apartment, she did a little slide across her shiny new floors and then stumbled into her bedroom. She flopped down on her bed and passed out.