I gotta get a job. If that black man’s family came looking for his money, I’d have to give it back. Meanwhile, I gotta support me and Jesse. And I need regular sex. I can’t think straight and plan my life when I’m distracted by wanting it all the time.
My doctor wants to put me on some anti-stress pill but I don’t want to. He said maybe I shouldn’t do them kegel exercises no more, ‘cause doing them makes me horny. But I was in town once and I was using the girls joint. There was this woman janitor cleaning the toilets. I don’t know how we got on the subject, but she said, women gotta do kegel exercises. They keep your uterus in place. Everyone says different things. You just don’t know who to believe.
I was walking around the park, thinking and trying to plan my life but not being very good at it when Jonathan Bailey started walking beside me.
“Hi Mindy,” he said, “How’ve you been?”
Jonathan lives in town. His mother used to live with him there and comes to the park on weekends. Now she’s at the park full time and he comes to visit her most weekends, for the home cooked meals, he says. His most prized possession is his 1948 Harley Panhead with a sidecar. I seen him cleaning it at the park. He’s got good hair and looks pretty good in his undershirt posing on that bike.
He’s sort of my hero because he gave me tons of good stuff when my trailer burned up, even a small TV that I could plug into the electrical post. You only get one channel in the park, but it’s better than nothing. And when Jessie got arrested, he gave me a gnome, the kind you put in your gardens. The gnome looks cool sitting beside my tent, sort of guarding my stuff. I don't even have to take him in when it rainis.
“I heard about Mitch,” he said, “I’ve always liked him. I’m so so sorry, darling.” And he pecked me on the cheek.
“Ah gee, thanks Jon. That’s nice of you to say that,” I said. Who knew a biker guy like him could be so sensitive.
We were just walking and chatting when Dean came storming toward us, going, “Jesus, Jesus Christ. Ah, so fucking messy.”
“What’s messy, Dean?” I said.
“The Logans. Jesus.” He rushed down the road to the Logans’ site.
“Oh, I heard about them!” said Jon.
“What about them?” I said. “What’s happened?”
“Their trailer got blown up last night.”
“What? Who did it?”
“His wife.”
“What? Carol? Why would she do that?”
“Carol is not his wife. She’s his sister.”
“Get out! No shit? He’s been fucking his sister?”
“Yup. His wife found out about them setting up house in the park. She came to the park, drove by their site and threw a stick of dynamite at their trailer.”
“God, some women are so possessive of their husbands. Were they hurt?”
“Ah-uhn. They weren’t there.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Well, after she blew up their trailer, she got out of the car and started crying and screaming and shouting at the trailer. Everyone heard and asked questions. She freely told them.”
By this time, we too got to the Logans’ site. The trailer was burnt and broken alright. But it didn’t look too bad. You could probably still live in it. Dean was talking to some guys. So we just walked on by.
“So Mindy,” said Jon. “Earlier, Fred and I were talking and we really want to have a night on the town. With you going through some pretty rough times, I was thinking you’d like to join us, to have some fun for a change.” He was all excited, waving his fingers about. “My treat, honey. Dinner and dancing with Fred and Sam, and of course, me.” Jon patted his chest with his fingers.
Am I hearing right? Jon’s asking me out? There are rumours in the park he’s not quite straight. But I’ve drank beer with him plenty of times and I never noticed nothing. And now his asking me out proves he’s straight.
“Jon, I’d like that very much,” I said.
“Alright, I’ll come by at 6:00 to get you tomorrow, darling.” He flicked a kiss at me with his fingers and waved good bye. That Jon, he’s always honeying and darlinging everyone.
But did that make me feel good or what? Jon is just the coolest. When he comes to the park, he’s got that Shannon bunch oogling and ogling at him and flirting and laughing with him all the time. But he’s never asked any of them out. He’s come over a few times and brought cake that his mom made. He’s always thanking me for helping his mom with stuff, like pick up the garbage on her site or carry water from the pump for her.
The only thing about him is sometimes I see him in his white undershirt in front of his mother’s trailer slugging back beer. And he’s got opera, for frig sake, opera, blasting on the radio. But what the hey, maybe I’ll get lucky with him anyway. I’ve never done a friend before. But it’s not like he was all that up close and personal a friend, which I wouldn’t mind getting with him now.
Yeah, it’s time I consider having a real relationship with a man. Maybe he could be my practice relationship, on account of he could be one of them funny boys.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Oh Where Oh Where Can He Be?
It took over a week, and several trips going to the army headquarters and the General or his aide coming to my park to sort things out. In the end, it didn’t get sorted out right for me. They decided that dead black man was my Mitch. Can you imagine that? And they transferred me Mitch’s pension, life insurance and death pay. What about the poor black man’s real family? They oughta know he’s dead. That money belongs to them.
It was so ridiculous. I told them Mitch was white when he enrolled in the army. He was white the last time I saw him. And that black man, he don’t look nothing like Mitch. They said, well, he’s 6’2’’, so was Mitch, he was 245 lbs, so was Mitch, he had brown eyes, so did Mitch, he had brown hair, so did Mitch, he enrolled in the army 10 years ago, so did Mitch, he had a wife called Mindy and a son called Jesse, so did Mitch. Like, all the particulars about this man were exactly the same as Mitch’s, except he don’t got Mitch’s face and he ain’t Mitch.
And here’s the thing, Mitch checked off “Caucasian” on his army enrollment application. That mean, white guy, right? But every picture they had of Mitch was of that black man. I don’t understand how this could be. When did they get this dead man mixed up with my Mitch? Know what else puzzles me? How come Mitch was in Iraq with no one from his old squadron? He got sent to Iraq by himself. No one knew him there. No one knew what he looked like before he went to Iraq. And now suddenly, Mitch came back a dead black man. How come the army didn’t chase that down?
Instead, they put in their file I was too shocked and upset about Mitch’s death and could not make a positive identification. They’re going with their own records and certifying that Mitch is dead and his body returned to his family. That poor black man, returned to a stranger’s family.
And the bank. They say Mitch never had an account with them. They knew nothing about the money that Mitch saved up over the years. They just know that every month, I was getting a deposit from the army.
And now, I got all that money in my account - $185,000! Because the government put it in there. I don’t want to spend any of it in case the dead man’s family shows up later. But I have no money. Mitch’s money for this month never came in. I gotta dip into that man’s money until something happens. I don’t know what I’m waiting for to happen though.
Sure, the army paid for the funeral, but I still had expenses. They made me go to the funeral and I had to buy a dress. There weren’t a lot of people at the service. Obviously, none of them knew the dead man; none of them knew Mitch neither. I didn’t want to bring everyone from the park, except Sam and Leslie. But they were there for my sake, to make sure nothing crazier happens. I didn’t tell Mitch’s parents either. I mean, c’mon, that’s not Mitch.
It was awful. People started giving me their condolences. I couldn’t say, Hell no, that’s not my husband, I never seen him before until he showed up dead, that’s just some stranger they mistook for Mitch. I didn’t want to sound like a bitch and cause a scene. I mean, whether he’s my husband or not, he’s still dead and don’t deserve to have a scene made at his funeral.
I haven’t told Jesse about any of this yet. What was I supposed to say? Oh, while you were in jail, your dad officially died. But it wasn't him. The government gave us a dead black guy for your father, but then they gave us lots of money too, even though I said the dead guy's not my husband. And because that money belongs to the dead guy’s family, I can’t use it to bail you even though it’s sitting in my bank. And your dad, well I have no idea what happened to him or where he is right now. Actually, that sounds good. Maybe I’ll go with that when I see him.
That is the biggest question, Where is Mitch? What happened to him?
It was so ridiculous. I told them Mitch was white when he enrolled in the army. He was white the last time I saw him. And that black man, he don’t look nothing like Mitch. They said, well, he’s 6’2’’, so was Mitch, he was 245 lbs, so was Mitch, he had brown eyes, so did Mitch, he had brown hair, so did Mitch, he enrolled in the army 10 years ago, so did Mitch, he had a wife called Mindy and a son called Jesse, so did Mitch. Like, all the particulars about this man were exactly the same as Mitch’s, except he don’t got Mitch’s face and he ain’t Mitch.
And here’s the thing, Mitch checked off “Caucasian” on his army enrollment application. That mean, white guy, right? But every picture they had of Mitch was of that black man. I don’t understand how this could be. When did they get this dead man mixed up with my Mitch? Know what else puzzles me? How come Mitch was in Iraq with no one from his old squadron? He got sent to Iraq by himself. No one knew him there. No one knew what he looked like before he went to Iraq. And now suddenly, Mitch came back a dead black man. How come the army didn’t chase that down?
Instead, they put in their file I was too shocked and upset about Mitch’s death and could not make a positive identification. They’re going with their own records and certifying that Mitch is dead and his body returned to his family. That poor black man, returned to a stranger’s family.
And the bank. They say Mitch never had an account with them. They knew nothing about the money that Mitch saved up over the years. They just know that every month, I was getting a deposit from the army.
And now, I got all that money in my account - $185,000! Because the government put it in there. I don’t want to spend any of it in case the dead man’s family shows up later. But I have no money. Mitch’s money for this month never came in. I gotta dip into that man’s money until something happens. I don’t know what I’m waiting for to happen though.
Sure, the army paid for the funeral, but I still had expenses. They made me go to the funeral and I had to buy a dress. There weren’t a lot of people at the service. Obviously, none of them knew the dead man; none of them knew Mitch neither. I didn’t want to bring everyone from the park, except Sam and Leslie. But they were there for my sake, to make sure nothing crazier happens. I didn’t tell Mitch’s parents either. I mean, c’mon, that’s not Mitch.
It was awful. People started giving me their condolences. I couldn’t say, Hell no, that’s not my husband, I never seen him before until he showed up dead, that’s just some stranger they mistook for Mitch. I didn’t want to sound like a bitch and cause a scene. I mean, whether he’s my husband or not, he’s still dead and don’t deserve to have a scene made at his funeral.
I haven’t told Jesse about any of this yet. What was I supposed to say? Oh, while you were in jail, your dad officially died. But it wasn't him. The government gave us a dead black guy for your father, but then they gave us lots of money too, even though I said the dead guy's not my husband. And because that money belongs to the dead guy’s family, I can’t use it to bail you even though it’s sitting in my bank. And your dad, well I have no idea what happened to him or where he is right now. Actually, that sounds good. Maybe I’ll go with that when I see him.
That is the biggest question, Where is Mitch? What happened to him?
Friday, November 18, 2005
Who's That Man?
The General came back in the afternoon and brought me flowers. Sam and I had done our crying already. I wanted to get this ID thing over with, but I needed time to get used to the idea of Mitch being gone. So we told the General to come back the next day to take me and Sam to the army morgue.
That night, people came to say their condolences. Word got out already. I don’t remember who came, I just remember I didn’t go to bed till late.
The next morning, the General was back. He had an aide with him this time. They walked with me and Sam out the park. Everyone was watching. At the gate, Dean nodded and said, “Hope things work out, Mindy. Good luck.”
We got into the limousine. It was the fanciest car I had ever been in. The aide gave us drinks and food. Gosh, bubbly and orange juice in the morning! And some crescent rolls, real buttery, light and fluffy. They really know how to live, these army guys.
I’m sad that my husband died. But I wasn’t as upset about it as I thought. I mean, Mitch hadn’t really been around the last ten years. I only saw him every six months or so, right? And each time only for a few days. I had my own life going. I hadn’t even seen him for over a year now. I miss the idea of him. Him? Not so much. But I don’t like the idea that I am a widow.
We drove for over three hours. The army head office is outside the capital - it’s a huge place, like a suburb all its own. All along the road, there were barracks and small buildings. Not especially pretty. We finally pulled into a parking lot and walked up to a big building with the national flag all over the place. If you didn’t know this was army headquarters, you’d still suspect the building has something to do with the government.
I was nervous going in. I’ve never seen a dead body before, even though this one is Mitch. The aide took us into a room with big black armchairs. We waited a while, then he and the General came back to take us to the morgue.
Morgues are morgues. No matter if they are in a hospital or in the army building, you still feel creepy knowing you’re going into one. The hallway in the basement had all these doors that were closed. You don’t get an idea of what’s in those rooms, you can’t even peek in a window or nothing.
The aide stopped in front of one of the doors, pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. Yup, it’s the morgue alright. It’s cold inside. He went up to a big drawer, checked the name on the front and pulled it out. I stopped about 10 feet from the drawer.
“Mrs. Batten,” said the aide. “Would you come a bit closer and identify him please.”
Sam put her arm around my waist and we walked up slowly. I couldn’t even look at the body. I was almost right beside it before I turned my head to look. Then I looked and I looked. I looked at him this way and that. I walked around the body and looked from the other side. I bent closer and peered at the face up and down. Sam looked too. She walked around with me and looked. Her eyebrows were cringed in a perplexed way, looking like I felt. The General said,
“Mrs. Batten, is this your husband, Mitchell Batten?”
I look at him, then at the aide. I looked at Sam. I could barely speak. Sam said,
“Have you make a mistake?”
The aide quickly checked the name on the drawer and the papers in his hands. He looked at the body, checked the photograph in his file and said,
“No, m’am, there is no mistake. According to our information, this is Mitchell Batten of Wittle Lake. Mrs. Batten, Is this your husband?”
I said, “No, this is not Mitch. I’ve never seen him in my life.”
The General and the aide huddled in a whisper. Me and Sam formed our own huddle. Then the General turned back to us and said,
“Are you positive, Mrs. Batten? An expired body often doesn’t look as… well, as animated as the man you’re used to. But the facial features are essentially the same.”
“General Glover,” I said, “I don’t expect Mitch to be talking to me telling me that’s his body lying there. I expect he might look a little different. But when you’re dead, you don’t change colour, do you? You don’t suddenly become a difference race soon as you die. This here is a black man. My Mitch is not black.”
The General said, “Mrs. Batten, it’s been a long time since you last saw your husband…”
“What? You think I forgot he’s black or something? This man is not my husband.”
“But all his records and identification show that he is Mitchell Batten.”
“His name may be Mitchell Batten, but he’s not my Mitch.”
The General looked at Sam and said, “Is this man familiar to you?”
“No, I’ve never seen him before. Mitch is white, like you and me, like all of us in this room, not black.”
“Well,” said the General, “Let’s return to my office and we will review all the documents.”
That night, people came to say their condolences. Word got out already. I don’t remember who came, I just remember I didn’t go to bed till late.
The next morning, the General was back. He had an aide with him this time. They walked with me and Sam out the park. Everyone was watching. At the gate, Dean nodded and said, “Hope things work out, Mindy. Good luck.”
We got into the limousine. It was the fanciest car I had ever been in. The aide gave us drinks and food. Gosh, bubbly and orange juice in the morning! And some crescent rolls, real buttery, light and fluffy. They really know how to live, these army guys.
I’m sad that my husband died. But I wasn’t as upset about it as I thought. I mean, Mitch hadn’t really been around the last ten years. I only saw him every six months or so, right? And each time only for a few days. I had my own life going. I hadn’t even seen him for over a year now. I miss the idea of him. Him? Not so much. But I don’t like the idea that I am a widow.
We drove for over three hours. The army head office is outside the capital - it’s a huge place, like a suburb all its own. All along the road, there were barracks and small buildings. Not especially pretty. We finally pulled into a parking lot and walked up to a big building with the national flag all over the place. If you didn’t know this was army headquarters, you’d still suspect the building has something to do with the government.
I was nervous going in. I’ve never seen a dead body before, even though this one is Mitch. The aide took us into a room with big black armchairs. We waited a while, then he and the General came back to take us to the morgue.
Morgues are morgues. No matter if they are in a hospital or in the army building, you still feel creepy knowing you’re going into one. The hallway in the basement had all these doors that were closed. You don’t get an idea of what’s in those rooms, you can’t even peek in a window or nothing.
The aide stopped in front of one of the doors, pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. Yup, it’s the morgue alright. It’s cold inside. He went up to a big drawer, checked the name on the front and pulled it out. I stopped about 10 feet from the drawer.
“Mrs. Batten,” said the aide. “Would you come a bit closer and identify him please.”
Sam put her arm around my waist and we walked up slowly. I couldn’t even look at the body. I was almost right beside it before I turned my head to look. Then I looked and I looked. I looked at him this way and that. I walked around the body and looked from the other side. I bent closer and peered at the face up and down. Sam looked too. She walked around with me and looked. Her eyebrows were cringed in a perplexed way, looking like I felt. The General said,
“Mrs. Batten, is this your husband, Mitchell Batten?”
I look at him, then at the aide. I looked at Sam. I could barely speak. Sam said,
“Have you make a mistake?”
The aide quickly checked the name on the drawer and the papers in his hands. He looked at the body, checked the photograph in his file and said,
“No, m’am, there is no mistake. According to our information, this is Mitchell Batten of Wittle Lake. Mrs. Batten, Is this your husband?”
I said, “No, this is not Mitch. I’ve never seen him in my life.”
The General and the aide huddled in a whisper. Me and Sam formed our own huddle. Then the General turned back to us and said,
“Are you positive, Mrs. Batten? An expired body often doesn’t look as… well, as animated as the man you’re used to. But the facial features are essentially the same.”
“General Glover,” I said, “I don’t expect Mitch to be talking to me telling me that’s his body lying there. I expect he might look a little different. But when you’re dead, you don’t change colour, do you? You don’t suddenly become a difference race soon as you die. This here is a black man. My Mitch is not black.”
The General said, “Mrs. Batten, it’s been a long time since you last saw your husband…”
“What? You think I forgot he’s black or something? This man is not my husband.”
“But all his records and identification show that he is Mitchell Batten.”
“His name may be Mitchell Batten, but he’s not my Mitch.”
The General looked at Sam and said, “Is this man familiar to you?”
“No, I’ve never seen him before. Mitch is white, like you and me, like all of us in this room, not black.”
“Well,” said the General, “Let’s return to my office and we will review all the documents.”
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Talking To The General
No one died. No one’s hurt. Just because I got the hots for Ogden, don’t mean I can’t fuck his dad. It was just a bit of a shock meeting him that way. Ogden is 29? I thought he was much younger. But that means he’s not Jesse’s peer. Which makes him more fuckable. We are consenting adults after all. We will be anyway.
I didn’t tell Ray I was Jesse’s mother. It didn’t feel right talking about it. I don’t mix sex and Jesse. I did wonder if I shouldn’t catch a ride with Ray to the prison to see Jesse but decided against it. I wanted to go home and change. So Ray, sweet guy, dropped me off at the park before he went on his way.
Once I was settled in front of my tent, Sam came by.
“Hey, you recovered yet?” she said.
“From what?
“Last week.”
“Oh. Almost. And you?”
“It was mostly my hands that got bleached. But I’m okay. Liz come home yet with the new baby?”
“Yeah, hadn’t seen much of them. They’re their usual quiet selves. What’s new with you?”
We were just catching up. I told her about meeting Ray and she was laughing like a crazy person when a man walked onto my site. He was in his fifties, real stern looking, wearing a black suit. He must be the man who was looking for me last week. I had forgotten about him. When he got close, I said,
“Hey, looking for me?”
“Would you be Mindy Batten?” he asked.
“That’d be me.”
“Are you be married to Mitchell Batten?”
“That’s me.”
“Mrs. Batten. I am from the Army Reserve, 11th Brigade. I am the home officer in charge of the squadron that your husband Mitchell was assigned to. My name is General Sydney Glover.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine. Then he turned to Sam and said, “You must be a friend of Mrs. Batten’s. Hello.” He shook her hand too. He was a real gentleman despite the grim look on his face.
“That’s a striking hair colour you have, Mrs. Batten. May I call you Mindy?” he said.
“Sure, everyone else does,” I said.
“Mindy, I’m making a duty call to you today. I’d like to take you to our office in the city so I can relay some information to you. If you have family or a close friend you’d like to bring, we could accommodate that as well.”
“What’s going on? Is this news about Mitch? What’s happened to him?”
“Or I can relay the information to you here if you prefer, Mindy.”
“Tell me here. Sam is my good friend. She can stay for this. Saves me telling her later.”
“Mindy, the news I have to deliver is not good.”
“Oh crap! What now? What’s Mitch done? Oh for chrissake.” I put my head in my hands. Sam started rubbing my back, saying,
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”
“Mindy, I came to look for you as soon as we knew. But you weren’t here last week.” He reached over and took my hand. “Mindy, Mitch was killed in action. His body arrived in the city yesterday. I would like to make arrangements with you to come identify the body.”
Sam gasped in spite of herself.
“What?” I screamed. “What do you mean killed in action? What kind of action? Mitch was a cook. A cook in the army. How could he be killed in action? He never fought in the field.”
“Mindy, I know this comes as a shock to you. I’m so sorry,” said the General. He was still squeezing my hand. I shook him off.
“Are you sure it was him?” I said.
“We made a positive identification. He had all his ID on him. His battalion ID’d him. But we also want you to come to identify him. When you are ready, of course.”
“What happened? How did he get in the field?”
“Well, he wasn’t quite in the field.”
“Where was he?”
“He was in the camp kitchen.”
“You guys got bombed?”
“No. Mitch had an accident. He fell.”
“What? How? You better tell me what happened.”
“Mitch had a little too much to drink. He argued with the new chef.”
“What? He was killed by…by one of your chefs? Someone on his own side?”
“No, no, no one killed him. Mitch argued with the chef. That’s all.”
“What did they argue about that Mitch should die for it?”
“We are unable to verify that of course. However, there were witnesses who claim that they argued about whether real clam chowder contains tomatoes.”
“Mitch never made clam chowder at home.”
“That apparently was one of Mitch’s specialties. He put tomatoes in his.”
“So how did he die? What happened?”
“The new chef does not put tomato in his chowder. Mitch wanted to convince him clam chowder is better with tomatoes. Witnesses say they were both quite inebriated. The new chef stormed out of the kitchen. And Mitch set about making a chowder with tomatoes. But he was unsteady. The army does not condone alcohol of course, especially in Iraq, where alcohol is not permitted. We are not sure where Mitch obtained his whisky. We only know that he had quite a high level of alcohol in his blood when he died.
Mitch cut up tomatoes for the chowder. But like I said, he was unsteady. He dropped a lot of tomatoes on the kitchen floor. At one point, he slipped on the tomatoes and banged his head, quite hard. Actually, he hit his head on a large iron grill. He died immediately. Mitch did not suffer, Mindy.”
“What? How can someone die from a single fall?”
“Mindy, it’s rare, but it happens. Especially if you hit the back of your head, hard. Unfortunately, it happened to Mitch.”
“My god, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this has happened. I can't believe you're telling me this. Now what? What’ll happen to Jesse and me?”
“We’d like you to come and ID the body, when you’re ready. Then we will return the body to you for burial. The army will cover the expenses of course.”
“Is that why there’s been no money coming into my account from Mitch?”
“I don't know anything about any arrangement Mitch may have made for you. However, once we take care of the administrative details, we will be able to pay Mitch’s pension and insurance money out to you. And because the death took place while he was on active duty, there will be additional compensation as well. I don’t know what the total amount of these payments will be. But I have arranged for you to see our administrative personnel to get the details and to sign papers to release the funds.”
Sam was hugging me and crying.
“Mindy,” said the General, “I will take my leave for now. I will come back this afternoon. If you are ready to go identify the body then, I will have a car ready to take you to our office. Otherwise, we can arrange for another time for you to come. Do you have other family or friends you’d like to be with right now?”
“No, no. I have no family near. I don’t want Jesse to know until…well until I see Mitch to make sure it’s him.”
The General left us. I was just stunned.
This was devastating news. My Mitch gone. How will I tell Jesse? I guess I should identify the body first, get whatever payments are coming, then go from there. My god, I am completely alone in the world right now.
I didn’t tell Ray I was Jesse’s mother. It didn’t feel right talking about it. I don’t mix sex and Jesse. I did wonder if I shouldn’t catch a ride with Ray to the prison to see Jesse but decided against it. I wanted to go home and change. So Ray, sweet guy, dropped me off at the park before he went on his way.
Once I was settled in front of my tent, Sam came by.
“Hey, you recovered yet?” she said.
“From what?
“Last week.”
“Oh. Almost. And you?”
“It was mostly my hands that got bleached. But I’m okay. Liz come home yet with the new baby?”
“Yeah, hadn’t seen much of them. They’re their usual quiet selves. What’s new with you?”
We were just catching up. I told her about meeting Ray and she was laughing like a crazy person when a man walked onto my site. He was in his fifties, real stern looking, wearing a black suit. He must be the man who was looking for me last week. I had forgotten about him. When he got close, I said,
“Hey, looking for me?”
“Would you be Mindy Batten?” he asked.
“That’d be me.”
“Are you be married to Mitchell Batten?”
“That’s me.”
“Mrs. Batten. I am from the Army Reserve, 11th Brigade. I am the home officer in charge of the squadron that your husband Mitchell was assigned to. My name is General Sydney Glover.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine. Then he turned to Sam and said, “You must be a friend of Mrs. Batten’s. Hello.” He shook her hand too. He was a real gentleman despite the grim look on his face.
“That’s a striking hair colour you have, Mrs. Batten. May I call you Mindy?” he said.
“Sure, everyone else does,” I said.
“Mindy, I’m making a duty call to you today. I’d like to take you to our office in the city so I can relay some information to you. If you have family or a close friend you’d like to bring, we could accommodate that as well.”
“What’s going on? Is this news about Mitch? What’s happened to him?”
“Or I can relay the information to you here if you prefer, Mindy.”
“Tell me here. Sam is my good friend. She can stay for this. Saves me telling her later.”
“Mindy, the news I have to deliver is not good.”
“Oh crap! What now? What’s Mitch done? Oh for chrissake.” I put my head in my hands. Sam started rubbing my back, saying,
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”
“Mindy, I came to look for you as soon as we knew. But you weren’t here last week.” He reached over and took my hand. “Mindy, Mitch was killed in action. His body arrived in the city yesterday. I would like to make arrangements with you to come identify the body.”
Sam gasped in spite of herself.
“What?” I screamed. “What do you mean killed in action? What kind of action? Mitch was a cook. A cook in the army. How could he be killed in action? He never fought in the field.”
“Mindy, I know this comes as a shock to you. I’m so sorry,” said the General. He was still squeezing my hand. I shook him off.
“Are you sure it was him?” I said.
“We made a positive identification. He had all his ID on him. His battalion ID’d him. But we also want you to come to identify him. When you are ready, of course.”
“What happened? How did he get in the field?”
“Well, he wasn’t quite in the field.”
“Where was he?”
“He was in the camp kitchen.”
“You guys got bombed?”
“No. Mitch had an accident. He fell.”
“What? How? You better tell me what happened.”
“Mitch had a little too much to drink. He argued with the new chef.”
“What? He was killed by…by one of your chefs? Someone on his own side?”
“No, no, no one killed him. Mitch argued with the chef. That’s all.”
“What did they argue about that Mitch should die for it?”
“We are unable to verify that of course. However, there were witnesses who claim that they argued about whether real clam chowder contains tomatoes.”
“Mitch never made clam chowder at home.”
“That apparently was one of Mitch’s specialties. He put tomatoes in his.”
“So how did he die? What happened?”
“The new chef does not put tomato in his chowder. Mitch wanted to convince him clam chowder is better with tomatoes. Witnesses say they were both quite inebriated. The new chef stormed out of the kitchen. And Mitch set about making a chowder with tomatoes. But he was unsteady. The army does not condone alcohol of course, especially in Iraq, where alcohol is not permitted. We are not sure where Mitch obtained his whisky. We only know that he had quite a high level of alcohol in his blood when he died.
Mitch cut up tomatoes for the chowder. But like I said, he was unsteady. He dropped a lot of tomatoes on the kitchen floor. At one point, he slipped on the tomatoes and banged his head, quite hard. Actually, he hit his head on a large iron grill. He died immediately. Mitch did not suffer, Mindy.”
“What? How can someone die from a single fall?”
“Mindy, it’s rare, but it happens. Especially if you hit the back of your head, hard. Unfortunately, it happened to Mitch.”
“My god, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this has happened. I can't believe you're telling me this. Now what? What’ll happen to Jesse and me?”
“We’d like you to come and ID the body, when you’re ready. Then we will return the body to you for burial. The army will cover the expenses of course.”
“Is that why there’s been no money coming into my account from Mitch?”
“I don't know anything about any arrangement Mitch may have made for you. However, once we take care of the administrative details, we will be able to pay Mitch’s pension and insurance money out to you. And because the death took place while he was on active duty, there will be additional compensation as well. I don’t know what the total amount of these payments will be. But I have arranged for you to see our administrative personnel to get the details and to sign papers to release the funds.”
Sam was hugging me and crying.
“Mindy,” said the General, “I will take my leave for now. I will come back this afternoon. If you are ready to go identify the body then, I will have a car ready to take you to our office. Otherwise, we can arrange for another time for you to come. Do you have other family or friends you’d like to be with right now?”
“No, no. I have no family near. I don’t want Jesse to know until…well until I see Mitch to make sure it’s him.”
The General left us. I was just stunned.
This was devastating news. My Mitch gone. How will I tell Jesse? I guess I should identify the body first, get whatever payments are coming, then go from there. My god, I am completely alone in the world right now.
Monday, November 07, 2005
At Wits End
Leslie worked at a pub called Wits End. Shannon drove us there without getting us killed. At 8:30, the place wasn’t full yet. Lots of men were standing by the bar or sitting by themselves at tables. There were tall ones and short ones, young ones and old ones, muscular ones and skinny ones. Oh my. There must’ve been 20 men by themselves in that pub. I’ll have my pick tonight.
All the men turned and smiled at us when we walked in. Leslie and another waitress were working. She waved at us and pointed to a table in the corner. We went and sat down.
Leslie came over to take our order. Shannon and the others ordered two drinks each right away.
“What about you, Mindy, what’ll you have?” said Leslie.
I said, “Girls, why are you here, in this pub?”
“We came to drink,” said Molly.
“And to meet men,” said Babsy.
“Well then, why are you ordering drinks?” I said. “How will a man break the ice if he can’t buy you a drink? He won’t want to if you’ve already got a few in front of you.”
“We can drink more than one, you know,” said Babsy.
“That is just no class at all, a woman sitting there with several drinks in front of her,” I said. "You look like a cheap whore in need of a drink, not a classy woman in need of a man.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll just have one drink, Leslie,” said Molly.
“Me too,” said Babsy.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to keep with my drinking buddies. One only for me please,” sang Shannon.
Leslie shook her head and went to get their drinks.
Over the next half hour, more people came in - women by themselves, couples, and more men. I was checking the guys out to see which ones I liked when this older man came up to me.
“Hey pretty lady, what’re you drinking?” he said. I turned and winked at the girls. “I bet you’d like a screwdriver, won’t you,” he said. He was direct, this one. And a little drunk already. He was too old for my liking, but not shabbily dressed. Travelling through likely. I didn’t want to settle for this one right away when there were so many to pick from.
Leslie came up and put a beer in front of me. She nodded at a young, muscular guy at the bar. “From your friend over there,” she said.
I turned to the older man and said, “Can I take a rain check on that drink? I’m going to say hello to my friend over there.” I picked up my drink and walked over to the bar, glad to get rid of the old codger.
Soon, I was at the bar with several guys around me and we were chatting and laughing. The band started playing so you have to shout even when you’re talking to someone right beside you. It means you have to lean real close and nuzzle someone’s ear in order to be heard.
Body language. You have to know body language when you’re man hunting. I have great body language with a tart accent. Me and these guys, we’re all hanging together because we want to see who I’ll have sex with tonight, and the ones I don’t fuck, they want to get in line for another time. See, no misunderstanding.
How do I know this? Look how I never sit up straight. I’m always draping myself on one man or the other with my arm, leg or body. And I always thrust my breasts out at whoever is in front of me. I touch the man I’m talking to - stroke his chin, arm, back, leg, or butt. Not just touch. You let your fingers linger there so they feel your heat.
My T-shirt helped too. They’re all making like they’re just following instructions to squeeze my boobs and I’m making like I don’t want them to. That way, you keep them all interested. They all stay ‘cause they want more.
Shannon gets it. See how she leans her body into that man behind her while she’s talking to that other guy? But Molly and Babsy - no one’s talking to them. They’re just hangers on to what Molly’s doing.
Things were going pretty good for me. But then that bitch Shannon stood up and walked over. Somehow she’d ditched her sweater. She was just wearing her cardigan, with the top buttons open, and she had cleavage, and her nipples showed through her cardigan. She sauntered by with one hand held up and purred, “Hello boys,” stroking every guy around me on the jaw.
All my guys, they turned their heads to watch her wiggle down the hall into the ladies room.
I struggled for words. Me, a pro at keeping men’s attention. I said, “You like that do you?”
They muttered, “Yeah, no, she’s nice, but you’re nice too”. Oh fuck off and die already.
After that, the guys got all awkward and straightened up, like they just woke up or something. One left and stood by the hall, probably to wait for fucking Shannon to come back. One just went back to his table and sat down. One ordered me a drink, then said, “Excuse me.” I never saw him again for the rest of the night. Another one stood by, all embarrassed and uncomfortable. So I sent him to sit down with the one already at the table. I needed a break from flirting. I’m not going home empty-handed tonight. I needed a new plan to snag me a man.
I hate that bitch Shannon. I went back to our table where Molly and Babsy were and sat down. All that work wasted. I am not going to give her the satisfaction of going home with anyone either. Just wait till you get back, bitch.
The old guy who wanted to buy me a screwdriver earlier came over. He said,
“Can I interest you in a dance?”
Well, why not? I didn’t want to sit there with the ding dongs. And I didn’t want Shannon to come back and see she’s crashed my party. So I got up and danced with him.
“My name is Reebus,” said the screwdriver man.
“Beavis?” I said.
“No, Reebus, Reebus,” he shouted. “You can call me Ray. You are very beautiful.”
Well now he’s talking. For an old guy, he’s got good dance moves. He’s got rhythm and seemed sure on the dance floor. He moved real close to me and push his groin into me. Wow, good equipment. Then he moved back and twirled me round and round. Somehow, I adapted my moves to his. But I made sure I brushed my breasts against his chest and arms every once in a while. I couldn’t help it. Every now and then, he touched my breasts, but ever so subtly, like it was an accident.
“We make good moves together,” Ray said.
“We’re on fire,” I said.
After about half an hour, he said,
“Would you like a drink now? A screwdriver, perhaps? Or straight to the screw?”
Oh he’s so sassy.
“Yes, all of them,” I said.
So he took my hand and led me outside. We got into his car and drive to his motel by the edge of town. We ran into his room and were almost naked before he could lock the door.
Oh my god, it was just the best fuck ever. I really wanted it. We were all over each other. Who knew an old guy like that could do it twice.
In the morning, I said,
“What’s your name again?”
“Ray.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, I came here to see my son.”
“Where’s your son?”
“He’s about an hour away in the city.”
“What does he do?”
“I’m not sure. He’s 29 and single. He does bits of this and that to get by I think. He’s actually a resident of Wittle Lake. He’s got a room somewhere here. But he got into a bit of trouble a while ago and is spending some time in the county jail right now.”
“Did he commit a crime or something?”
“I’m not sure. I think he and some kid set fire to a solid waste sanitation truck.”
“No kidding.”
Oh Jesus Christ, I know I just fucked Ogden’s dad.
All the men turned and smiled at us when we walked in. Leslie and another waitress were working. She waved at us and pointed to a table in the corner. We went and sat down.
Leslie came over to take our order. Shannon and the others ordered two drinks each right away.
“What about you, Mindy, what’ll you have?” said Leslie.
I said, “Girls, why are you here, in this pub?”
“We came to drink,” said Molly.
“And to meet men,” said Babsy.
“Well then, why are you ordering drinks?” I said. “How will a man break the ice if he can’t buy you a drink? He won’t want to if you’ve already got a few in front of you.”
“We can drink more than one, you know,” said Babsy.
“That is just no class at all, a woman sitting there with several drinks in front of her,” I said. "You look like a cheap whore in need of a drink, not a classy woman in need of a man.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll just have one drink, Leslie,” said Molly.
“Me too,” said Babsy.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to keep with my drinking buddies. One only for me please,” sang Shannon.
Leslie shook her head and went to get their drinks.
Over the next half hour, more people came in - women by themselves, couples, and more men. I was checking the guys out to see which ones I liked when this older man came up to me.
“Hey pretty lady, what’re you drinking?” he said. I turned and winked at the girls. “I bet you’d like a screwdriver, won’t you,” he said. He was direct, this one. And a little drunk already. He was too old for my liking, but not shabbily dressed. Travelling through likely. I didn’t want to settle for this one right away when there were so many to pick from.
Leslie came up and put a beer in front of me. She nodded at a young, muscular guy at the bar. “From your friend over there,” she said.
I turned to the older man and said, “Can I take a rain check on that drink? I’m going to say hello to my friend over there.” I picked up my drink and walked over to the bar, glad to get rid of the old codger.
Soon, I was at the bar with several guys around me and we were chatting and laughing. The band started playing so you have to shout even when you’re talking to someone right beside you. It means you have to lean real close and nuzzle someone’s ear in order to be heard.
Body language. You have to know body language when you’re man hunting. I have great body language with a tart accent. Me and these guys, we’re all hanging together because we want to see who I’ll have sex with tonight, and the ones I don’t fuck, they want to get in line for another time. See, no misunderstanding.
How do I know this? Look how I never sit up straight. I’m always draping myself on one man or the other with my arm, leg or body. And I always thrust my breasts out at whoever is in front of me. I touch the man I’m talking to - stroke his chin, arm, back, leg, or butt. Not just touch. You let your fingers linger there so they feel your heat.
My T-shirt helped too. They’re all making like they’re just following instructions to squeeze my boobs and I’m making like I don’t want them to. That way, you keep them all interested. They all stay ‘cause they want more.
Shannon gets it. See how she leans her body into that man behind her while she’s talking to that other guy? But Molly and Babsy - no one’s talking to them. They’re just hangers on to what Molly’s doing.
Things were going pretty good for me. But then that bitch Shannon stood up and walked over. Somehow she’d ditched her sweater. She was just wearing her cardigan, with the top buttons open, and she had cleavage, and her nipples showed through her cardigan. She sauntered by with one hand held up and purred, “Hello boys,” stroking every guy around me on the jaw.
All my guys, they turned their heads to watch her wiggle down the hall into the ladies room.
I struggled for words. Me, a pro at keeping men’s attention. I said, “You like that do you?”
They muttered, “Yeah, no, she’s nice, but you’re nice too”. Oh fuck off and die already.
After that, the guys got all awkward and straightened up, like they just woke up or something. One left and stood by the hall, probably to wait for fucking Shannon to come back. One just went back to his table and sat down. One ordered me a drink, then said, “Excuse me.” I never saw him again for the rest of the night. Another one stood by, all embarrassed and uncomfortable. So I sent him to sit down with the one already at the table. I needed a break from flirting. I’m not going home empty-handed tonight. I needed a new plan to snag me a man.
I hate that bitch Shannon. I went back to our table where Molly and Babsy were and sat down. All that work wasted. I am not going to give her the satisfaction of going home with anyone either. Just wait till you get back, bitch.
The old guy who wanted to buy me a screwdriver earlier came over. He said,
“Can I interest you in a dance?”
Well, why not? I didn’t want to sit there with the ding dongs. And I didn’t want Shannon to come back and see she’s crashed my party. So I got up and danced with him.
“My name is Reebus,” said the screwdriver man.
“Beavis?” I said.
“No, Reebus, Reebus,” he shouted. “You can call me Ray. You are very beautiful.”
Well now he’s talking. For an old guy, he’s got good dance moves. He’s got rhythm and seemed sure on the dance floor. He moved real close to me and push his groin into me. Wow, good equipment. Then he moved back and twirled me round and round. Somehow, I adapted my moves to his. But I made sure I brushed my breasts against his chest and arms every once in a while. I couldn’t help it. Every now and then, he touched my breasts, but ever so subtly, like it was an accident.
“We make good moves together,” Ray said.
“We’re on fire,” I said.
After about half an hour, he said,
“Would you like a drink now? A screwdriver, perhaps? Or straight to the screw?”
Oh he’s so sassy.
“Yes, all of them,” I said.
So he took my hand and led me outside. We got into his car and drive to his motel by the edge of town. We ran into his room and were almost naked before he could lock the door.
Oh my god, it was just the best fuck ever. I really wanted it. We were all over each other. Who knew an old guy like that could do it twice.
In the morning, I said,
“What’s your name again?”
“Ray.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, I came here to see my son.”
“Where’s your son?”
“He’s about an hour away in the city.”
“What does he do?”
“I’m not sure. He’s 29 and single. He does bits of this and that to get by I think. He’s actually a resident of Wittle Lake. He’s got a room somewhere here. But he got into a bit of trouble a while ago and is spending some time in the county jail right now.”
“Did he commit a crime or something?”
“I’m not sure. I think he and some kid set fire to a solid waste sanitation truck.”
“No kidding.”
Oh Jesus Christ, I know I just fucked Ogden’s dad.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Gussied Up
I was so desperate for sex I was even nice to stupid Shannon the gossip whore. I saw her when I went to the showers. She had just finished and was talking with Leslie. When she saw me, she said,
“Oh, how are things going with you, Mindy.”
I hate the way she singsongs when she talks, always trying to sound so faky chirpy and phony concerned at the same time.
“I’ve been better, Shan,” I said. “Hi Leslie.” Leslie was my other good friend. I was hoping Shannon would leave so I could talk to Leslie.
“Mindy, I came looking for you a couple of times, but you were out. You okay?” said Leslie.
“Yeah. Just been busy.” I said.
“We’ve been so worried about you too,” said phony baloney Shannon.
Yeah, as if. Shannon’s husband left her four years ago for a younger, blonder, boobsier bimbo, or maybe she was the young, blond, boobsy bimbo so he left her. When the marriage broke up, she moved in with her parents in the park. She supposedly looks after them now. But there's nothing wrong with them. They were fine before she got here. They are still fine.
“I’m just getting ready for work,” said Leslie. She works as a waitress at a pub in town. “I’ll finish late. Are you around tomorrow? How about I come by when I get up?”
“I’m here, unless I get a ride to see Jesse,” I said.
“Oh, the girls and I, we’re going into town tonight. To have a few drinks, maybe meet some guys.” said Shannon. “Hey, maybe we’ll go to Leslie’s pub. You want to come with us?”
What? Shannon the lying canon asking me to go out with her bimbos? I’d rather be nailed to the toilet floor than to be seen outside the park with her. But then it’s a night out. And I might get lucky. I need to get lucky. Shannon is just transportation, a ride, ‘cause that’s all she’s good for. And now she can be my ride. Oh I can be so funny sometimes.
“Sure, Shannon, I’d love to go,” I said. Leslie gave me that wide-eye you-know-what-you’re-getting-into? look. “You driving?”
“Yeah,” said Shannon, looking surprised and regretting her invitation. But she recovered immediately. “We’re meeting at the gate at 8:00. Don’t be late, or we’ll go without you. Ha ha ha. Ta, ta.” She wiggled down the road to her site.
Leslie said, “What’re you doing? You really going to spend the night with that bunch?”
“I get lonely,” I said.
“Oh god, the things you do for sex. Get them to come to the pub. I want to be there to see you hanging with her.”
So I got showered and dressed. I had $10 from what Sam loaned me. But how I operate, I don’t pay for my own drinks. I have principles. If a guy can’t buy you a drink at a pub, he doesn't deserve to have a go at you.
I can get used to this short hair. You don’t have to blow dry it or anything. You just mousse and gel it and you look sexy and real dangerous with your hair standing up. I put on my best bra that lifts and separates. The trick to attracting men for sex is to put your boobs up front where they belong. I got good, noticeable boobs. They just need a little help with positioning sometimes.
And if you got a good ass like me, show that off in tight jeans and heels. You gotta stand up straight too, not hunched over like you’re afraid of what men are thinking. Red lipstick is a must. Makes men think about blow jobs.
I wore my red T-shirt with “Squeeze Here” across the front in big bold letters. And I wore my red fuck-me pumps to match my lipstick and T-shirt. God I looked classic. Simple but hot. I feel six inches taller already.
So I get to the gate just before 8:00 and the other two girls were already there. We were just waiting for Shannon.
“Hey, I heard you were coming with us,” said Molly.
“How come you never came with us before,” said Babsy.
“I wanted a change,” I said.
What was I supposed to say? I don’t like you and I don’t want to be seen with the likes of you? Even standing there waiting, I didn’t want to talk to these two ding-dongs. Look at them. Molly has a drabby long-sleeve shirt on. Where do her boobs end and her stomach begin? And short shorts? She’s too fat for them. And Babsy, she’s got on a blue and green striped sports bra, with chains and beads hanging off her neck. A man would choke on her junk if he tried to kiss her neck. And for god sakes, she’s got on sweat bell bottoms, with a stripe down the side of the leg. Who does she think she is, Sporty Spice?
Shannon came running up with her dyed blond hair all twisted in a knot on top of her head. She was wearing a pink sweater and cardigan set, black pants and black flats. What kind of look is that? Where’s the sex appeal?
She said to me, “You look good, trussed up. I mean, all dressed and gussied up like that.” Shannon curled her lip in a smirk.
The bitch. I have to ditch this bunch when we get to the pub.
“Oh, how are things going with you, Mindy.”
I hate the way she singsongs when she talks, always trying to sound so faky chirpy and phony concerned at the same time.
“I’ve been better, Shan,” I said. “Hi Leslie.” Leslie was my other good friend. I was hoping Shannon would leave so I could talk to Leslie.
“Mindy, I came looking for you a couple of times, but you were out. You okay?” said Leslie.
“Yeah. Just been busy.” I said.
“We’ve been so worried about you too,” said phony baloney Shannon.
Yeah, as if. Shannon’s husband left her four years ago for a younger, blonder, boobsier bimbo, or maybe she was the young, blond, boobsy bimbo so he left her. When the marriage broke up, she moved in with her parents in the park. She supposedly looks after them now. But there's nothing wrong with them. They were fine before she got here. They are still fine.
“I’m just getting ready for work,” said Leslie. She works as a waitress at a pub in town. “I’ll finish late. Are you around tomorrow? How about I come by when I get up?”
“I’m here, unless I get a ride to see Jesse,” I said.
“Oh, the girls and I, we’re going into town tonight. To have a few drinks, maybe meet some guys.” said Shannon. “Hey, maybe we’ll go to Leslie’s pub. You want to come with us?”
What? Shannon the lying canon asking me to go out with her bimbos? I’d rather be nailed to the toilet floor than to be seen outside the park with her. But then it’s a night out. And I might get lucky. I need to get lucky. Shannon is just transportation, a ride, ‘cause that’s all she’s good for. And now she can be my ride. Oh I can be so funny sometimes.
“Sure, Shannon, I’d love to go,” I said. Leslie gave me that wide-eye you-know-what-you’re-getting-into? look. “You driving?”
“Yeah,” said Shannon, looking surprised and regretting her invitation. But she recovered immediately. “We’re meeting at the gate at 8:00. Don’t be late, or we’ll go without you. Ha ha ha. Ta, ta.” She wiggled down the road to her site.
Leslie said, “What’re you doing? You really going to spend the night with that bunch?”
“I get lonely,” I said.
“Oh god, the things you do for sex. Get them to come to the pub. I want to be there to see you hanging with her.”
So I got showered and dressed. I had $10 from what Sam loaned me. But how I operate, I don’t pay for my own drinks. I have principles. If a guy can’t buy you a drink at a pub, he doesn't deserve to have a go at you.
I can get used to this short hair. You don’t have to blow dry it or anything. You just mousse and gel it and you look sexy and real dangerous with your hair standing up. I put on my best bra that lifts and separates. The trick to attracting men for sex is to put your boobs up front where they belong. I got good, noticeable boobs. They just need a little help with positioning sometimes.
And if you got a good ass like me, show that off in tight jeans and heels. You gotta stand up straight too, not hunched over like you’re afraid of what men are thinking. Red lipstick is a must. Makes men think about blow jobs.
I wore my red T-shirt with “Squeeze Here” across the front in big bold letters. And I wore my red fuck-me pumps to match my lipstick and T-shirt. God I looked classic. Simple but hot. I feel six inches taller already.
So I get to the gate just before 8:00 and the other two girls were already there. We were just waiting for Shannon.
“Hey, I heard you were coming with us,” said Molly.
“How come you never came with us before,” said Babsy.
“I wanted a change,” I said.
What was I supposed to say? I don’t like you and I don’t want to be seen with the likes of you? Even standing there waiting, I didn’t want to talk to these two ding-dongs. Look at them. Molly has a drabby long-sleeve shirt on. Where do her boobs end and her stomach begin? And short shorts? She’s too fat for them. And Babsy, she’s got on a blue and green striped sports bra, with chains and beads hanging off her neck. A man would choke on her junk if he tried to kiss her neck. And for god sakes, she’s got on sweat bell bottoms, with a stripe down the side of the leg. Who does she think she is, Sporty Spice?
Shannon came running up with her dyed blond hair all twisted in a knot on top of her head. She was wearing a pink sweater and cardigan set, black pants and black flats. What kind of look is that? Where’s the sex appeal?
She said to me, “You look good, trussed up. I mean, all dressed and gussied up like that.” Shannon curled her lip in a smirk.
The bitch. I have to ditch this bunch when we get to the pub.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Brambleberries
The hospital treated me and Sam for bleach burns. Except my hair was still green, and now dry and burnt. Parts of it was red. I never had red hair before. I guess it was the brown dye already in it that reacted with the bleach.
The Emergency nurse asked a bunch of questions about my health. Would you believe one of the questions was, "Are you pregnant?" How did she know? Was I showing already? I had to say yes.
She went, “Really?” Then another nurse took like ten tubes of blood from me. After, the first nurse came back and said, "Are you sure you are pregnant?”
I said, “Well yeah. If you don’t want to believe me, why’d you ask?”
She wanted to know all kinds of stuff about my periods too. Later, she got a doctor to examine me. He prodded and poked me in every which way. Only, I didn’t enjoy it and I wasn’t allowed to touch him back. Finally, he announced that I wasn't pregnant. I never was. I had no sign of having miscarried or anything. Can you believe that? So what was with that test I did?
"Goes to show," said Sam, "you can't trust those drug store kits."
But it was such a great relief, finding out I'm not pregnant. Me and Sam bought some shirts at the hospital gift shop to wear. Then we went into town to see if Mitch’s money came in. It still hadn’t. Bummer. But we saw some of Choojah’s apple pies at the Super J. He’s now putting blackberries in his pies as well. So we bought one with the blackberries for Kieran and Leanne as a present for having the baby. It was all we could afford. Sam didn’t have any more money on her. When we got back to the hospital, it was almost noon. Liz had a boy. She and the baby were asleep. They looked real peaceful sleeping together.
Sam and me drove back to the park to tell Kieran and to give him the pie. He really sucks at social skills, that man. I gave him the pie said to him,
“Congratulations Kieran, you have a son.”
He said, “Mindy, what’s that smell on you?”
I said, “Kieran, I just told you you got a son. You want to know what I smell like? Are you coming on to me?” Really, I went like that at him just to see him shit in his pants.
“No, no, Mindy,” he said, “I just wondered, because the smell is so strong.”
I left him. My feelings were hurt. Really, I gave him a present and all. I know I wasn’t looking my best, after the night I had. Because of his kid too. Partly anyway. And I didn’t appreciate everyone in the park gawking at me, saying, What happened to you? Why do you smell like that? All week, they were like that. Like I wanted to be that way. You don’t see me going up to that retard Denis and saying, God, why’re you crippled? Or gawk at fat Susan and her kids and say, Geez, why’s your whole family so ugly and fat?
I needed to get my hair fixed but I had no money for the salon in town. So Daisy came over and cut it for me. She had to cut it real short. I now had short, spiky, mostly green hair with bits of red in it. I felt totally butch. Every time I went into town, you get to see the dykes come out. They were the ones staring at me, giving me the look like they want to get to know me better. I know that look, I gave them plenty of times. But to guys. I’m not into chicks no matter what I look like or how horny I feel.
The day after my haircut, I visited Jesse. He was doing okay. They finally found Ogden’s dad and he was coming in. But oh my god, did Jesse ever have a bird. He said, “Mom, you look retarded. Can’t you just act like a mom once in a while?”
What was that supposed to mean? Lucky for him, Ogden said he didn’t think I looked retarded at all. He liked the way I look. He said I reminded him of a Marilyn Monroe with short hair, like a sexy misfit. Then he did something pretty sexy himself. I was standing with my back against the wall, just kind of leaning back, holding out the bowl of raspberries I brought for Jesse. Ogden came up to me, put his right hand on the wall near my head, leaned in towards me, and looked me deep in my eyes. So I picked up a raspberry and put it in his mouth. He held my finger with his lips till he swallowed the raspberry, then walked away. Whew.
When I got back to the park, I saw a new trailer drive in. Newcomers to the park. That evening, me and Daisy walked around the park. I saw the trailer at one of the newer sites. A young couple was setting up. They had a tarp up already. They brought stoves and tables and chairs and lamps. They look like they were going to stay put for a while. We stopped to welcome them.
Turns out they’ve been coming to the park for two years. I don’t remember them at all. I’ve never seen them. But Daisy said they did look kind of familiar. They’ve been coming for weekends here and there. But this time, they’re setting up house year round. They still work in the city during the week. But they wanted to be at the park every weekend.
Nice couple. Their names were Robert and Carol Logan. Both tall with wavy, reddish brown hair, good looking, probably in their thirties. God, they almost look like brother and sister. He’s a biologist and teaches at the university in the city. She works for some kind of environmental conservancy agency. Carol said,
"Bobbie loves that the park is so close to all kinds of wonderful outdoor activities. Don't you, Bobbie?"
And Bobbie said, "Yes, it’s almost like living in the wild here. You can commune with nature even in this park."
Tell me about it. Try living in a fucking tent forever and ever. I asked if they had kids, but they got all embarrassed and stammered, no, no, no.
On the way back from our walk, we passed their site again. Robert and Carol were no longer outside. God, you’d think we lived in an X-rated park or something. They were at it inside their trailer. Really at it. The trailer was sitting there shaking all by itself, so much you think it was possessed. But we knew it was the wild sex going on inside with the two of them. You can hear the moaning, banging into things and trying to muffle their screams.
So me and Daisy tried to walk pass their trailer discreetly. But little Edie and Simmie came running up chasing their dog, Bob. The dog ran around the trailer and the kids ran around after him calling, Bob, Bob, stop it, stop it. Suddenly, the trailer stopped moving and all went quiet inside. The kids, they looked at the trailer, noticed the silence and shrieked, “Aaaah…” They ran away laughing and screeching, now with Bob barking and chasing after them.
Me and Daisy walked away fast too. It was pretty funny.
It’s not good for me to know when other people are having sex. Makes me feel so left out. And it’s been so stressful lately I need me some man love. I know I look freaky, but I need to get fucked. Tonight. And I don’t know why I was thinking it, but I kept thinking about Ogden.
The Emergency nurse asked a bunch of questions about my health. Would you believe one of the questions was, "Are you pregnant?" How did she know? Was I showing already? I had to say yes.
She went, “Really?” Then another nurse took like ten tubes of blood from me. After, the first nurse came back and said, "Are you sure you are pregnant?”
I said, “Well yeah. If you don’t want to believe me, why’d you ask?”
She wanted to know all kinds of stuff about my periods too. Later, she got a doctor to examine me. He prodded and poked me in every which way. Only, I didn’t enjoy it and I wasn’t allowed to touch him back. Finally, he announced that I wasn't pregnant. I never was. I had no sign of having miscarried or anything. Can you believe that? So what was with that test I did?
"Goes to show," said Sam, "you can't trust those drug store kits."
But it was such a great relief, finding out I'm not pregnant. Me and Sam bought some shirts at the hospital gift shop to wear. Then we went into town to see if Mitch’s money came in. It still hadn’t. Bummer. But we saw some of Choojah’s apple pies at the Super J. He’s now putting blackberries in his pies as well. So we bought one with the blackberries for Kieran and Leanne as a present for having the baby. It was all we could afford. Sam didn’t have any more money on her. When we got back to the hospital, it was almost noon. Liz had a boy. She and the baby were asleep. They looked real peaceful sleeping together.
Sam and me drove back to the park to tell Kieran and to give him the pie. He really sucks at social skills, that man. I gave him the pie said to him,
“Congratulations Kieran, you have a son.”
He said, “Mindy, what’s that smell on you?”
I said, “Kieran, I just told you you got a son. You want to know what I smell like? Are you coming on to me?” Really, I went like that at him just to see him shit in his pants.
“No, no, Mindy,” he said, “I just wondered, because the smell is so strong.”
I left him. My feelings were hurt. Really, I gave him a present and all. I know I wasn’t looking my best, after the night I had. Because of his kid too. Partly anyway. And I didn’t appreciate everyone in the park gawking at me, saying, What happened to you? Why do you smell like that? All week, they were like that. Like I wanted to be that way. You don’t see me going up to that retard Denis and saying, God, why’re you crippled? Or gawk at fat Susan and her kids and say, Geez, why’s your whole family so ugly and fat?
I needed to get my hair fixed but I had no money for the salon in town. So Daisy came over and cut it for me. She had to cut it real short. I now had short, spiky, mostly green hair with bits of red in it. I felt totally butch. Every time I went into town, you get to see the dykes come out. They were the ones staring at me, giving me the look like they want to get to know me better. I know that look, I gave them plenty of times. But to guys. I’m not into chicks no matter what I look like or how horny I feel.
The day after my haircut, I visited Jesse. He was doing okay. They finally found Ogden’s dad and he was coming in. But oh my god, did Jesse ever have a bird. He said, “Mom, you look retarded. Can’t you just act like a mom once in a while?”
What was that supposed to mean? Lucky for him, Ogden said he didn’t think I looked retarded at all. He liked the way I look. He said I reminded him of a Marilyn Monroe with short hair, like a sexy misfit. Then he did something pretty sexy himself. I was standing with my back against the wall, just kind of leaning back, holding out the bowl of raspberries I brought for Jesse. Ogden came up to me, put his right hand on the wall near my head, leaned in towards me, and looked me deep in my eyes. So I picked up a raspberry and put it in his mouth. He held my finger with his lips till he swallowed the raspberry, then walked away. Whew.
When I got back to the park, I saw a new trailer drive in. Newcomers to the park. That evening, me and Daisy walked around the park. I saw the trailer at one of the newer sites. A young couple was setting up. They had a tarp up already. They brought stoves and tables and chairs and lamps. They look like they were going to stay put for a while. We stopped to welcome them.
Turns out they’ve been coming to the park for two years. I don’t remember them at all. I’ve never seen them. But Daisy said they did look kind of familiar. They’ve been coming for weekends here and there. But this time, they’re setting up house year round. They still work in the city during the week. But they wanted to be at the park every weekend.
Nice couple. Their names were Robert and Carol Logan. Both tall with wavy, reddish brown hair, good looking, probably in their thirties. God, they almost look like brother and sister. He’s a biologist and teaches at the university in the city. She works for some kind of environmental conservancy agency. Carol said,
"Bobbie loves that the park is so close to all kinds of wonderful outdoor activities. Don't you, Bobbie?"
And Bobbie said, "Yes, it’s almost like living in the wild here. You can commune with nature even in this park."
Tell me about it. Try living in a fucking tent forever and ever. I asked if they had kids, but they got all embarrassed and stammered, no, no, no.
On the way back from our walk, we passed their site again. Robert and Carol were no longer outside. God, you’d think we lived in an X-rated park or something. They were at it inside their trailer. Really at it. The trailer was sitting there shaking all by itself, so much you think it was possessed. But we knew it was the wild sex going on inside with the two of them. You can hear the moaning, banging into things and trying to muffle their screams.
So me and Daisy tried to walk pass their trailer discreetly. But little Edie and Simmie came running up chasing their dog, Bob. The dog ran around the trailer and the kids ran around after him calling, Bob, Bob, stop it, stop it. Suddenly, the trailer stopped moving and all went quiet inside. The kids, they looked at the trailer, noticed the silence and shrieked, “Aaaah…” They ran away laughing and screeching, now with Bob barking and chasing after them.
Me and Daisy walked away fast too. It was pretty funny.
It’s not good for me to know when other people are having sex. Makes me feel so left out. And it’s been so stressful lately I need me some man love. I know I look freaky, but I need to get fucked. Tonight. And I don’t know why I was thinking it, but I kept thinking about Ogden.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
In The Moonlight
Sam gasped when she saw the blue window on the stick too. She snatched up everything and shoved them in the bag.
"You girls okay there?" hollered Fred.
"Fine, fine," said Sam. "Just picking up things for slippery fingers here." She handed the bag back to me and squeezed my hand. She said, "I'm just going to walk Mindy home. Nice to see ya, Dean. See ya later, Fred."
She hustled me off towards my site. We kept squealing, Oh my god, Oh my god, all the way home.
"The test must be wrong," I said. "I didn't do it properly."
"Did you pee on the stick?" said Sam.
"Yeah, but I stopped in the middle of it."
"But you got pee on the stick?"
"Yeah, but I didn't finish peeing."
"Well that doesn't matter. The stick just needs to be wet with your pee. It doesn't need a lot. My god, Mindy, what if you really are pregnant?"
"Shut up. The test is wrong. 'Cause if it's not, then I'm fucked."
"Like that didn't happen already."
"That's mean."
"Sorry. Do the test again in the morning. Just to make sure. Want me to be here when you do it?"
"Help me pee?"
"Urrr...I could. But I was thinking help you do the test properly and just be here to look at the stick with you."
"Yeah, I'd like that."
We sat around my tent and started drinking beer, eating cheesies and smoking. It was a warm night. We sat in lawn chairs in front of my tent and put our feet up on the picnic bench. It felt good to be off my feet. When it got dark, I turned on the lanterns. The moon came up too. I was real glad Sam was with me. The full moon makes me lonely. But Sam has this thing these days about learning to be a witch so she likes the full moon. It always feels like a party when Sam's around, even though it's just the two of us.
Sam is my best friend because she's always helping me and looking out for me. She practically helped me raise Jesse since we moved into the park. She's got a good head on her shoulders. Tonight, Sam was all jittery. She said,
"Fred is such a good man. He's decent and so brave."
"Yeah, he is. Why're you saying that about him, Sam?" I asked.
"I'm feeling jumbled. About life, about Fred."
"Is he okay? Is he still in remission."
"That's just it. He was. But this week, his PSA went up."
"Oh no. How high?"
"It was at 8. His doctor wants him to do another test in two weeks to see what change there is."
"God, I'm so sorry. No wonder you're so worried." I leaned over and gave her a hug.
"That, and Herb," said Sam.
"Herb? Fred's..."
"Twin. Look, don't think me a cheap jerk, okay? You know Herb was incredible support to me throughout Fred's illness. He comes by often still to see me. We have a special understanding."
"You guys fucking?"
"Yes."
Good old Sam. She doesn't mince words. "Who's feeling bad about that?" I said.
"I am, because I feel so guilty. Herb does. He feels guilty too. And Fred would, if he knew."
"When did you start, you and Herb?"
"Last week."
"But they're twins."
"So?"
"So it's like you're with the same man. What're you feeling bad about?"
"If only it's that simple." Sam was obviously feeling stressed about this Fred and Herb thing. She took out a joint, so we smoked it.
"You guys doing it everyday?" I asked. I was a little jealous, because I wasn't getting any since Mick and I broke up. Oh, I eye men all the time, but it takes work to get a man interested. You don't want any old bugger begging to drop his pants for you. See, that was another bad sign - it was too easy with Mick. And besides, without my trailer, I have no privacy. And I'm expecting Mitch home soon so I don't want to complicate things. Still, I miss the sex.
"No, we only did it the once. I tell ya, they may be twins, but they're very different men," said Sam.
"Oh for god sake, Sam. You done it once? That's nothing to feel guilty about. It's not like you did it a hundred times. Once is like you bumped into each other in the hallway said hello."
"But we may do it a second time, and a third, and a fourth. At some point, I'm cheating on Fred."
"I see. You're planning to cheat on Fred because you want a relationship with Herb."
"What?"
"You're talking like you want to swap Fred for Herb. You plan to feel bad about it. You know, sex is just sex. You can have sex with someone ten times and you're still not in a relationship. It's not what you do with your body that counts, it's what you do with your heart. I've never cheated on Mitch with my heart. But I have needs and Mitch is not here. Mitch might get upset if he knew I was getting my needs met without him, so out of respect for his feelings, I don't talk about my needs to him. You and Herb - unless you plan to ditch Fred, don't worry about it."
Sam was gazing up at the moon. She said, "The full moon is witness to everything we're saying, you know. But you're right. I don't plan to get rid of Fred so nothing to worry about. Right now, we make sure his prostate is taken care of. Any way, the moon goddess watches over us. Things will turn out fine. But you know, Mindy, I don't know half the people you sleep with."
"I barely know them myself."
Sam and I burst out laughing at that one and clanked our beer bottles.
"Speaking of knowing, you know how're we gonna raise money for Jesse?" said Sam. "We're gonna be matchmakers."
"Like a dating service?"
"Something like that. In old times, there were matchmakers going around introducing people to each other. If they get married, the matchmaker gets a chunk of money. We can do that. And we will provide personal services too. We will specialize in making the woman look beautiful so she can really impress the guy. We organize three dates for them. If they get married, they pay us a finder's fee."
Sam pulled out a second joint. I like getting high with Sam. She gets really inspirational ideas and makes things work. I think she and Fred got married when they were high, and they made their marriage work.
"How much is finder's fee?"
"We'll charge at least $5,000 per find, plus expenses."
"That's better than bake sales and car washes."
"You bet. We know lots of people - in the park, in town, out of town. All's we got to do is make sure we can do make up, dye hair, cut hair, go shopping with the woman, turn her into a fantasy woman."
"You know how to do that?"
"Oh baby, how hard can that be? You read fashion and make up magazines, don't you? You just follow what they do. Look how I turn out all the time. I just do what those magazines say to do..."
It's true. Sam looks amazing all the time. You wouldn't know she's not a natural platinum blond. I love when she wears that leopard halter top with her tight jeans and cowboy boots. She doesn't look 54 at all. No way. Once, she got all dressed up to go to a dance. She was striking. Imagine a hot pink strapless gown, split up the thigh, with fishnet stockings and open toe gold heels. Me, I'm a little on the plump side. But Sam put me in a bustiere once, and man, my tits were spilling over my tube top. You should've seen everyone gawking in town. I think that was the night I met this great guy in the pub and we had the best fuck ever in his car.
"...can get all the supplies from the beauty depot at the Tattle Creek mall anyway. But bleach is bleach," Sam was saying.
"Sam, I think you're onto something," I said. "But you go to a salon to get fixed up."
"Exactly," said Sam. Oh, she's excited now. "I've been so many times I know exactly what to do."
That's true. That practically makes Sam an expert. And I do read fashion magazines all the time so I know what looks to go after. I was excited now too. "Look Sam, we just practise on each other a few times. I bet we can make anyone look beautiful," I said.
"That's what I'm talking about," said Sam. "Practice makes perfect." She looked at me, "Let's do it then. Now."
"Okay."
"You got bleach?"
"Yeah, why?"
"To bleach your hair!"
Well, why not. I'm no pansy waiting to wilt.
I took the small jug of Javex from under the picnic bench and gave it to Sam. She found my dish basin and poured the jug of bleach in.
"Alright. To the moon goddess, may she bless everything we do in her bright light tonight," said Sam. She raised her beer.
"Yeah, to her, and the light," I said, clanking her beer bottle with mine. Then we had a long drink.
"Water, we need water," said Sam. "You can't use straight bleach."
We took the basin of bleach to the tap at the vault toilet and added water to it. Then we brought the filled basin back to my site and put it on the picnic table. We didn't lose too much water on the way. Sam lit another joint. Where were all these joints coming from?
"To our project!" toasted Sam. She took a deep toke and passed the joint to me. Then she took a deeper swig of beer to wash it down.
"To our project!" I echoed. Yes, we will be stunning. We will be rich. Yes, lots of people will be having lots of sex. Yes, I will have sex. Yes, to life! I too drank to our success.
"Okay, dunk you head in here," Sam pointed to the basin.
I checked to make sure I had a bra on, then took my shirt off. "I don't want to wet my shirt," I said, throwing the shirt on the grass.
"Good idea," said Sam. She pulled her sweat shirt off too. "Use this to mop up any spills." She put her sweat shirt on the table. See, Sam's always so stylish. She had a red lacy bra on. Me, I stick to basic black.
"Sam, I got towels. Hanging up there." I said, pointing to the clothes line.
"Okay. But my shirt's wet. I want it off anyway," said Sam.
I bent over forward into the basin of water. Sam gathered my hair and dunked my scalp in. Oooh, the water was frigging cold. I was having a brain freeze. Sam swirled my hair around making sure all the strands were soaked in the bleach water.
"Just keep your head in there for about 30 minutes," she said.
"Thirty minutes?" I lift my head. The water ran down my face and body. Ccccold.
"Stop it. Put your head back in," ordered Sam. So I did.
She swished my hair around soaking up my whole head. After a few minutes, I was getting a headache being bent over like that. My back hurt too 'cause my boobs were getting so heavy. It's not natural to be in that position without a man behind you. And the water was getting up my nose. It stank of bleach.
"Sam, I gotta get up. I can't hold this position much longer," I said.
"Okay, let me wrap you up." So Sam took her sweat shirt and wrapped it around my hair turban style. That was better. "That's like putting your hair in an oven to cook in the bleach."
Thank god I could stand up. I walked around moaning and groaning with a towel drying my body and stretching out my back and arms. Really, my back and head hurt. I threw a towel at Sam so she could wipe herself dry too. She was sitting in the lawn chair drying herself, but she was doing it in such slow motion. That was cool.
And at that moment, my neighbour Kieran, at the next site, he came out of his trailer. Sam and I waved at him. He came over, trying not to look at us. He said,
"I think Liz is in labour."
Holy cow! We had to get her to the hospital. You wouldn't believe how suddenly Sam could move so fast. It was like someone pushed a button and put Sam on fast forward.
"I'll get my car," she shouted, running towards her site.
I towelled off my head and shook my hair out.
"You smell funny," said Kieran, looking down at the ground.
"We gotta get Liz to the hospital," I said. Kieran and I went into their trailer to get Liz.
"God, Mindy, what's that smell on you?" said Liz.
"I was doing my hair," I said. We helped Liz out the trailer just as Sam came driving into their site. We all got in and drove off. Me and Sam in the front seat, with Kieran and Liz in the back.
At the the gate, Liz said, "Who's looking after Leanne?"
Holy shit. We forgot about her. Kieran said to the window,
"I'll stay to look after my daughter. I'd be much obliged if you ladies help my wife get to the hospital to give birth."
He pecked Liz on the cheek and skidaddled out of the car right. Well, we were on a mission. So Sam drove straight to the hospital.
Sam stopped the car in front of Emergency and shouted, "We need a doctor and a wheelchair."
A nurse came out and said, "Which one of you is the patient?"
"She is," I screamed, pointing into the car. "She's in labour."
The nurse looked into the car and gestured at someone inside. An orderly came out with a stretcher. They helped Liz get on and the nurse wheeled her away. The orderly said to us,
"Park then come back in. I need to get patient information from you and I can give you some hospital gowns."
Sam and I looked at each other. We were still in our bras. Only they had white streaks and blotches in them. Sam's hands were all red. My body and face felt all dry, itchy and burning. I needed to get washed or something.
When we got into the hospital, the orderly gave us two gowns. He said,
"Maybe you'd like to use the ladies' room to freshen up first?"
We nodded and went to where he was pointing. Inside the washroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face and chest were all red. My hair was all kinky and mostly green.
The clock in the washroom chimed 3 a.m.
"You girls okay there?" hollered Fred.
"Fine, fine," said Sam. "Just picking up things for slippery fingers here." She handed the bag back to me and squeezed my hand. She said, "I'm just going to walk Mindy home. Nice to see ya, Dean. See ya later, Fred."
She hustled me off towards my site. We kept squealing, Oh my god, Oh my god, all the way home.
"The test must be wrong," I said. "I didn't do it properly."
"Did you pee on the stick?" said Sam.
"Yeah, but I stopped in the middle of it."
"But you got pee on the stick?"
"Yeah, but I didn't finish peeing."
"Well that doesn't matter. The stick just needs to be wet with your pee. It doesn't need a lot. My god, Mindy, what if you really are pregnant?"
"Shut up. The test is wrong. 'Cause if it's not, then I'm fucked."
"Like that didn't happen already."
"That's mean."
"Sorry. Do the test again in the morning. Just to make sure. Want me to be here when you do it?"
"Help me pee?"
"Urrr...I could. But I was thinking help you do the test properly and just be here to look at the stick with you."
"Yeah, I'd like that."
We sat around my tent and started drinking beer, eating cheesies and smoking. It was a warm night. We sat in lawn chairs in front of my tent and put our feet up on the picnic bench. It felt good to be off my feet. When it got dark, I turned on the lanterns. The moon came up too. I was real glad Sam was with me. The full moon makes me lonely. But Sam has this thing these days about learning to be a witch so she likes the full moon. It always feels like a party when Sam's around, even though it's just the two of us.
Sam is my best friend because she's always helping me and looking out for me. She practically helped me raise Jesse since we moved into the park. She's got a good head on her shoulders. Tonight, Sam was all jittery. She said,
"Fred is such a good man. He's decent and so brave."
"Yeah, he is. Why're you saying that about him, Sam?" I asked.
"I'm feeling jumbled. About life, about Fred."
"Is he okay? Is he still in remission."
"That's just it. He was. But this week, his PSA went up."
"Oh no. How high?"
"It was at 8. His doctor wants him to do another test in two weeks to see what change there is."
"God, I'm so sorry. No wonder you're so worried." I leaned over and gave her a hug.
"That, and Herb," said Sam.
"Herb? Fred's..."
"Twin. Look, don't think me a cheap jerk, okay? You know Herb was incredible support to me throughout Fred's illness. He comes by often still to see me. We have a special understanding."
"You guys fucking?"
"Yes."
Good old Sam. She doesn't mince words. "Who's feeling bad about that?" I said.
"I am, because I feel so guilty. Herb does. He feels guilty too. And Fred would, if he knew."
"When did you start, you and Herb?"
"Last week."
"But they're twins."
"So?"
"So it's like you're with the same man. What're you feeling bad about?"
"If only it's that simple." Sam was obviously feeling stressed about this Fred and Herb thing. She took out a joint, so we smoked it.
"You guys doing it everyday?" I asked. I was a little jealous, because I wasn't getting any since Mick and I broke up. Oh, I eye men all the time, but it takes work to get a man interested. You don't want any old bugger begging to drop his pants for you. See, that was another bad sign - it was too easy with Mick. And besides, without my trailer, I have no privacy. And I'm expecting Mitch home soon so I don't want to complicate things. Still, I miss the sex.
"No, we only did it the once. I tell ya, they may be twins, but they're very different men," said Sam.
"Oh for god sake, Sam. You done it once? That's nothing to feel guilty about. It's not like you did it a hundred times. Once is like you bumped into each other in the hallway said hello."
"But we may do it a second time, and a third, and a fourth. At some point, I'm cheating on Fred."
"I see. You're planning to cheat on Fred because you want a relationship with Herb."
"What?"
"You're talking like you want to swap Fred for Herb. You plan to feel bad about it. You know, sex is just sex. You can have sex with someone ten times and you're still not in a relationship. It's not what you do with your body that counts, it's what you do with your heart. I've never cheated on Mitch with my heart. But I have needs and Mitch is not here. Mitch might get upset if he knew I was getting my needs met without him, so out of respect for his feelings, I don't talk about my needs to him. You and Herb - unless you plan to ditch Fred, don't worry about it."
Sam was gazing up at the moon. She said, "The full moon is witness to everything we're saying, you know. But you're right. I don't plan to get rid of Fred so nothing to worry about. Right now, we make sure his prostate is taken care of. Any way, the moon goddess watches over us. Things will turn out fine. But you know, Mindy, I don't know half the people you sleep with."
"I barely know them myself."
Sam and I burst out laughing at that one and clanked our beer bottles.
"Speaking of knowing, you know how're we gonna raise money for Jesse?" said Sam. "We're gonna be matchmakers."
"Like a dating service?"
"Something like that. In old times, there were matchmakers going around introducing people to each other. If they get married, the matchmaker gets a chunk of money. We can do that. And we will provide personal services too. We will specialize in making the woman look beautiful so she can really impress the guy. We organize three dates for them. If they get married, they pay us a finder's fee."
Sam pulled out a second joint. I like getting high with Sam. She gets really inspirational ideas and makes things work. I think she and Fred got married when they were high, and they made their marriage work.
"How much is finder's fee?"
"We'll charge at least $5,000 per find, plus expenses."
"That's better than bake sales and car washes."
"You bet. We know lots of people - in the park, in town, out of town. All's we got to do is make sure we can do make up, dye hair, cut hair, go shopping with the woman, turn her into a fantasy woman."
"You know how to do that?"
"Oh baby, how hard can that be? You read fashion and make up magazines, don't you? You just follow what they do. Look how I turn out all the time. I just do what those magazines say to do..."
It's true. Sam looks amazing all the time. You wouldn't know she's not a natural platinum blond. I love when she wears that leopard halter top with her tight jeans and cowboy boots. She doesn't look 54 at all. No way. Once, she got all dressed up to go to a dance. She was striking. Imagine a hot pink strapless gown, split up the thigh, with fishnet stockings and open toe gold heels. Me, I'm a little on the plump side. But Sam put me in a bustiere once, and man, my tits were spilling over my tube top. You should've seen everyone gawking in town. I think that was the night I met this great guy in the pub and we had the best fuck ever in his car.
"...can get all the supplies from the beauty depot at the Tattle Creek mall anyway. But bleach is bleach," Sam was saying.
"Sam, I think you're onto something," I said. "But you go to a salon to get fixed up."
"Exactly," said Sam. Oh, she's excited now. "I've been so many times I know exactly what to do."
That's true. That practically makes Sam an expert. And I do read fashion magazines all the time so I know what looks to go after. I was excited now too. "Look Sam, we just practise on each other a few times. I bet we can make anyone look beautiful," I said.
"That's what I'm talking about," said Sam. "Practice makes perfect." She looked at me, "Let's do it then. Now."
"Okay."
"You got bleach?"
"Yeah, why?"
"To bleach your hair!"
Well, why not. I'm no pansy waiting to wilt.
I took the small jug of Javex from under the picnic bench and gave it to Sam. She found my dish basin and poured the jug of bleach in.
"Alright. To the moon goddess, may she bless everything we do in her bright light tonight," said Sam. She raised her beer.
"Yeah, to her, and the light," I said, clanking her beer bottle with mine. Then we had a long drink.
"Water, we need water," said Sam. "You can't use straight bleach."
We took the basin of bleach to the tap at the vault toilet and added water to it. Then we brought the filled basin back to my site and put it on the picnic table. We didn't lose too much water on the way. Sam lit another joint. Where were all these joints coming from?
"To our project!" toasted Sam. She took a deep toke and passed the joint to me. Then she took a deeper swig of beer to wash it down.
"To our project!" I echoed. Yes, we will be stunning. We will be rich. Yes, lots of people will be having lots of sex. Yes, I will have sex. Yes, to life! I too drank to our success.
"Okay, dunk you head in here," Sam pointed to the basin.
I checked to make sure I had a bra on, then took my shirt off. "I don't want to wet my shirt," I said, throwing the shirt on the grass.
"Good idea," said Sam. She pulled her sweat shirt off too. "Use this to mop up any spills." She put her sweat shirt on the table. See, Sam's always so stylish. She had a red lacy bra on. Me, I stick to basic black.
"Sam, I got towels. Hanging up there." I said, pointing to the clothes line.
"Okay. But my shirt's wet. I want it off anyway," said Sam.
I bent over forward into the basin of water. Sam gathered my hair and dunked my scalp in. Oooh, the water was frigging cold. I was having a brain freeze. Sam swirled my hair around making sure all the strands were soaked in the bleach water.
"Just keep your head in there for about 30 minutes," she said.
"Thirty minutes?" I lift my head. The water ran down my face and body. Ccccold.
"Stop it. Put your head back in," ordered Sam. So I did.
She swished my hair around soaking up my whole head. After a few minutes, I was getting a headache being bent over like that. My back hurt too 'cause my boobs were getting so heavy. It's not natural to be in that position without a man behind you. And the water was getting up my nose. It stank of bleach.
"Sam, I gotta get up. I can't hold this position much longer," I said.
"Okay, let me wrap you up." So Sam took her sweat shirt and wrapped it around my hair turban style. That was better. "That's like putting your hair in an oven to cook in the bleach."
Thank god I could stand up. I walked around moaning and groaning with a towel drying my body and stretching out my back and arms. Really, my back and head hurt. I threw a towel at Sam so she could wipe herself dry too. She was sitting in the lawn chair drying herself, but she was doing it in such slow motion. That was cool.
And at that moment, my neighbour Kieran, at the next site, he came out of his trailer. Sam and I waved at him. He came over, trying not to look at us. He said,
"I think Liz is in labour."
Holy cow! We had to get her to the hospital. You wouldn't believe how suddenly Sam could move so fast. It was like someone pushed a button and put Sam on fast forward.
"I'll get my car," she shouted, running towards her site.
I towelled off my head and shook my hair out.
"You smell funny," said Kieran, looking down at the ground.
"We gotta get Liz to the hospital," I said. Kieran and I went into their trailer to get Liz.
"God, Mindy, what's that smell on you?" said Liz.
"I was doing my hair," I said. We helped Liz out the trailer just as Sam came driving into their site. We all got in and drove off. Me and Sam in the front seat, with Kieran and Liz in the back.
At the the gate, Liz said, "Who's looking after Leanne?"
Holy shit. We forgot about her. Kieran said to the window,
"I'll stay to look after my daughter. I'd be much obliged if you ladies help my wife get to the hospital to give birth."
He pecked Liz on the cheek and skidaddled out of the car right. Well, we were on a mission. So Sam drove straight to the hospital.
Sam stopped the car in front of Emergency and shouted, "We need a doctor and a wheelchair."
A nurse came out and said, "Which one of you is the patient?"
"She is," I screamed, pointing into the car. "She's in labour."
The nurse looked into the car and gestured at someone inside. An orderly came out with a stretcher. They helped Liz get on and the nurse wheeled her away. The orderly said to us,
"Park then come back in. I need to get patient information from you and I can give you some hospital gowns."
Sam and I looked at each other. We were still in our bras. Only they had white streaks and blotches in them. Sam's hands were all red. My body and face felt all dry, itchy and burning. I needed to get washed or something.
When we got into the hospital, the orderly gave us two gowns. He said,
"Maybe you'd like to use the ladies' room to freshen up first?"
We nodded and went to where he was pointing. Inside the washroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face and chest were all red. My hair was all kinky and mostly green.
The clock in the washroom chimed 3 a.m.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Oh. My. God.
Joel Woodsinger died. He died before they made it to the hospital.
Jesse and Ogden were taken into custody. No family came to claim Ogden. Said he had none. The police fetched me for Jesse. But I can't afford Jesse's bail so he still has to stay in jail. In fact, I need to get a lawyer for him. He's charged with mischief and willful destruction of property. He may even be charged with murder. The cops are still looking into that one. Shit, shit, shit. Why're all these things happening to me? Too much shit in my life right now. I'm freaking out.
For starters, I'm living in a fucking tent.
And they moved Jesse to the county jail an hour away, where real criminals are kept. Jesse's not a criminal, he's just a boy. At least Ogden's gone with him. Except Ogden's bad influence. I can visit Jesse any time, but I don't have a car. I have to bum rides with people all the time.
It really burns me up that Mick's been banging Vivian the same time he was seeing me. It's real insulting. Who else was he seeing? God, I'm so disgusted. But somehow I'm just not surprised by what he does no more. I don't get it. What do women see in him anyway? He's greasy and he's got a fat gut. He smells of shit or disinfectant all the time. I don't know, I just don't know what I ever saw in him.
But the worst part is, I realized today I plain forgot about my period. I forgot I wasn't having it. I didn't notice till today my period hadn't come for over a month. I'm sure I'm more than a week late. I shoulda kept track on one of them calendars or something. I read in a fashion magazine once that some women put an X in the calendar on the days they get their period. That way they know when their period is coming and when they're late. Samantha, she's my best friend, says if you're stressed out, sometimes you can be late. I hope that's what it is, 'cause if it's not, I'd be having Mick's damn baby. I'm almost 40. I still got my shape but I can't be having no babies.
I try to visit Jesse as often as I can, whenever I can hitch a ride. I'm going today. Sam's taking me. They let Jesse share a cell with Ogden, on account of them not being convicted yet. And they don't have to do prison labour either. But they still make them wear those prisoner outfits. Not the striped kind you see in movies and cartoons. They're just plain blue pajamas.
You know how you don't really mind or care if you hear someone has done something they're not supposed to, but when you think they may do that something to your own kid, then you start to really mind? So when I found out they were gonna put Jesse and Ogden in the same cell, I had to get it straight with Ogden. I said to him,
"Og, what's the deal? You into boys and kids or what?"
"No, Mrs. Batten, I don't do that shit," said Odgen.
For some reason, hearing him say that made me feel better. Unless he was lying. So I said,
"So what shit do you do?"
I wanted to hear him say, I do women only. But I noticed Jesse roll his eyes and moan, like he didn't want to be in the same room with me. I see it now - he acts tough around Ogden. And all I was trying to do was protect him. The cop was really interested though. Ogden just answered, in a respectful way.
"I do dope, man, just dope. Not kids."
"What about that time you got picked up for being with some kid? What was that about?"
"Ah Jesus, that was a little kid with a big mouth, man. I was walking by and he came out of his house and demanded a smoke from me. I said, Sure man, just give me two bucks. He said no. So I said, Go in your house and get me a beer. But he wouldn't go. So I left, man. But the kid came after me, grabbed my leg and tried to grab my package of smokes. I don't know. I pushed him. Maybe I picked him up. He screamed and screamed. Some old lady called the cops on me."
I wanted to believe him, because even though he looked terrible, he still had a rugged face. He looked like he was telling the truth. The cops were gonna put them in the same cell any way, whether I believed him or not. So I just let it be. But you know, after a couple visits to the jail, Ogden grows on ya. He's tall and muscular, stoops a bit, like he dont't really want to face the world, like if you leave him be, he'll leave you be, unless you goad him, then he'd get real angry and go crazy on you. He's strong and fucked up at the same time. Walks kind of unsteady. If you pushed him, he might tilt over. Jesse said when he's stoned, he's got his feet planted firmly on the ground - you feel his anger coming before you see him.
He wears a baseball cap over his long blond hair all the time. He has stubbles every time I see him. You just have an urge to stroke his jaw and scratch an itch on your hand or something. His lips are always wet and parted, like he's looking for the next fix, something to put in his mouth. When I see him, he's usually polite, but mopey. Mostly keeps to himself when I'm with Jesse.
Today, when I got there, he and Jesse were in the yard, standing by themselves. He nodded at me and said, "Mrs. Batten," then walked away to leave me, Sam and Jesse to visit. See what I mean? He grows on you. I'm finding him kinda sexy.
Jesse's real happy to see me when I visit. I think he's happier to see me now that he's in prison than when he lived at home. Today, I brought him muffins. I told him to share them with Ogden. I told him I was going to raise money somehow to get him out of jail or to hire him a real good lawyer. He was pleased to hear that. But I had no idea how I'd the raise money.
On the way home, Sam took me to the bank. Mitch's money should have come in two days ago. Except it didn't. So Sam had to loan me money to buy a pregnancy test kit at the drugstore. The kit comes with two tests, I guess in case you want to have two kids, you don't have to buy the test again for the second pregnancy. After, we shopped for groceries. Sam treated me to fish and chips in town before coming back to the park.
We got home about 6:00 p.m. Shannon the gossip bitch came running up to us as soon as she saw me and Sam drive in through the park gate.
"Hey Mindy, where have you been? There was some guy here looking for you," she said.
"What'd he want?"
"How would I know? He came asking for you and asked when you might be back. I told him he could stay at our site till you got back. But he left."
"What'd he look like?"
"He wore a suit, older, real short hair."
"What did he say?"
"He said he'll come back."
I looked at Sam and shrugged. I had no idea who the man was or what he wanted.
"So who was that looking for you, Mindy?" said Shannon.
"Don't know."
"You in some kind of trouble again?"
"Not that I know of, Shannon. But you'll be the first to know if I am." She is such a bitch. Sam drove away with Shannon standing there smirking at me.
Soon as we got near my site, Liz came over and said,
"Hi Mindy, someone came looking for you."
"Was it a man in a suit? Shannon told me."
"That's right. He waited at your site a bit before leaving."
"Did he tell you what he wanted?"
"No. I didn't really talk to him. When he asked me if this was your site, I just said yes."
"Thanks, Liz. I don't know what it's about either."
"Okay." Liz went back to her site.
We stoppd to put some of my stuff down, took the "kit" with us, and went on to Sam's trailer. Just as we drove in, old Mr. Miller came up.
"Hi Mindy, hi Sam," he said. "Mindy, you had a gentleman caller today."
"The man in the suit?" I said. I was gettng annoyed. And I was nervous because I was holding the small drugstore bag and I didn't want Mr. MIller to know what's inside.
"That's right. You know about it already?"
"Not really. Shannon told me at the gate someone came around. Did he tell you what he wanted?" I put the kit casually in Sam's shopping bag. She carried her shopping inside the trailer.
"No, no. I didn't ask him. He came around checking at several sites to see if you were around. Just wanted to let you know he was looking for you in case you didn't, that's all."
"Thanks, Mr. Miller. I expect he'll call again."
"That's what he said. You have a good evening." Then Mr. Miller went back to his own site.
Jesus, does the whole park know someone's looking for me? Who is this man?
I went inside the trailer to get Sam. Her husband Fred was rooting through her shopping. He had taken my kit out of the drug store bag and put it on the table. Shit, I don't want him to look at it. I went up to the table and picked up the kit.
"Oh, that doesn't belong to Sam." I said, trying to sound casual and putting it back in the drugstore bag.
"It's okay, hon," said Sam to me, "I use them all the time. Fred's used to them."
"What? Used to what?" said Fred.
"Nothing," said Sam, seeing that I was uncomfortable. Bless her.
"Honey," she said to Fred, "Can you get outta here for a while. Me and Mindy got some girl things to do."
Oh god, can she make it more obvious? So I said, "But no big deal, Fred. We can do it later."
"Oh no. I know when I'm not wanted," he said. "And don't tell me what you're doing. I don't want to know."
You can tell he's a real good gas metre reader. He keeps quiet about things he sees in people's houses. He took a pack of cigarettes out of the shopping bag and went out.
Sam was more excited than me to do the pregancy test. I was just scared. She ripped opened the kit and we looked over the instructions.
"Nothing new here. It's the usual test," she said. She explained there's nothing to it. When you get in the washroom, you take the little stick of out its wrapper, pee on it, and wait a few minutes. If the window on the stick turns blue, you're pregnant. If it doesn't, you're not. The test is more accurate if you do in the morning, with your first pee. Simple right? But Sam was impatient and I was anxious to know. So we decided to do a test now, and do a second one in the morning to confirm.
I took one of the wrapped sticks into the washroom. The window in there was open and I could hear Fred outside talking to Dean Jones. Dean and his wife own the park. I reached over to close the window. But Dean saw me and said,
"Oh hello, there you are, Mindy. I was just looking for you."
Crap. "Hi Dean," I said.
"Oh no, you don't want to go bothering her right now," said Fred, laughing. "She and Sam are doing some girlie thing in there."
Crap, crap. Is everyone going to find out what I'm doing?
"Is that so?" said Dean. "What kind of girlie thing?"
Jesus. Kill me now.
"Just the usual, Dean." I said. "Why're you looking for me?"
"A man came looking for you today."
Fuck, the whole park thinks I'm a hunted woman or something.
"That the same man Shannon and the others saw?"
"I don't know about that. He looked real business like. Came in a limousine and parked it outside the gate. There was at least one other man in the car. But this one, he came out and asked for you at the gate. I told him your site number and he walked in to look for you. He came out later and said you weren't there and he'd come back another time."
"Okay, thanks Dean. I have no idea who he is or what he wants," I said.
"Alright, just wanted you to know." Then he turned back to Fred and continued talking with him.
I slid my pants down and sat on the toilet, trying not to make a lot of noise, on account of Fred and Dean being outside and the window still open. But it was hard, I unwrapped the strip, put it under me and pee on it. I'm not even finished when Fred knocked on the trailer door and called in,
"You girls done with your girlie thing yet? How about a couple of beers for me and Dean?"
Okay, forget the stupid test. I can't do it with those two outside the window, talking to me and wanting beer. I shoved the wet stick back in the wrapper, finished my pee and went back into the sitting room.
"Let's see, let's see the stick," said Sam.
"I couldn't do it," I said. "I didn't do it properly. Fred and Dean were outside talking to me. And I heard Fred knocking and wanting beer. So I just stopped." Sam looked disappointed. She said,
"Do it in the morning. It's a better time anyway."
Just then, Dean called in again, "How about those beers, Sam?"
"Okay," Sam called back out. She opened the fridge and took out two beers. She stuck them out the door to Fred. I threw the whole kit back into the drugstore bag and went outside with Sam.
Fred said, "What? You girls aren't joining us for a beer?"
And Dean said, "What you got in that bag, Mindy." He was pointing at my drugstore bag.
"Nothing," I said. "Just something I picked up in town."
"How's Jesse?" asked Dean.
"He's doing okay. He rather be home though." I can see Dean was asking just to be polite. I know he didn't like my trailer burning up in his park, and now it's my son who's in jail. I know he's not comfortable with us now. Not like before when we were all chummy, drinking together all the time, especially when Mitch was home.
Sam must've sensed the awkwardness. She chimed in, "We're gonna do a fundraiser for Jesse, right here in the park. That okay with you, Dean?"
Dean seemed a little taken aback. He said, "Well, that depends on what you do. So long as it doesn't get in the way of the other guests, I guess so." At least he didn't say no.
"Yeah, we haven't figure it all out yet," said Sam.
"What kind of things were you thinking?" said Dean.
"Don't know. Maybe a bake sale? A car wash?" said Sam.
"Yeah," I jumped in. "A car wash is good. We could do it outside the gate, so it's not just park people who can donate. Anyone can bring their car. They don't even have to come inside the park."
I waved towards the gate as I said this. The waving made me fling my drugstore bag to the grass. I rushed to pick it up. Sam was ahead of me. As she bent down to pick up the bag, I saw the kit had spilled out on the grass. The used stick had come out of the wrapper and out of the bag. A little blue square at one end of the stick was looking back up at me.
Holy, holy, fucking shit.
Jesse and Ogden were taken into custody. No family came to claim Ogden. Said he had none. The police fetched me for Jesse. But I can't afford Jesse's bail so he still has to stay in jail. In fact, I need to get a lawyer for him. He's charged with mischief and willful destruction of property. He may even be charged with murder. The cops are still looking into that one. Shit, shit, shit. Why're all these things happening to me? Too much shit in my life right now. I'm freaking out.
For starters, I'm living in a fucking tent.
And they moved Jesse to the county jail an hour away, where real criminals are kept. Jesse's not a criminal, he's just a boy. At least Ogden's gone with him. Except Ogden's bad influence. I can visit Jesse any time, but I don't have a car. I have to bum rides with people all the time.
It really burns me up that Mick's been banging Vivian the same time he was seeing me. It's real insulting. Who else was he seeing? God, I'm so disgusted. But somehow I'm just not surprised by what he does no more. I don't get it. What do women see in him anyway? He's greasy and he's got a fat gut. He smells of shit or disinfectant all the time. I don't know, I just don't know what I ever saw in him.
But the worst part is, I realized today I plain forgot about my period. I forgot I wasn't having it. I didn't notice till today my period hadn't come for over a month. I'm sure I'm more than a week late. I shoulda kept track on one of them calendars or something. I read in a fashion magazine once that some women put an X in the calendar on the days they get their period. That way they know when their period is coming and when they're late. Samantha, she's my best friend, says if you're stressed out, sometimes you can be late. I hope that's what it is, 'cause if it's not, I'd be having Mick's damn baby. I'm almost 40. I still got my shape but I can't be having no babies.
I try to visit Jesse as often as I can, whenever I can hitch a ride. I'm going today. Sam's taking me. They let Jesse share a cell with Ogden, on account of them not being convicted yet. And they don't have to do prison labour either. But they still make them wear those prisoner outfits. Not the striped kind you see in movies and cartoons. They're just plain blue pajamas.
You know how you don't really mind or care if you hear someone has done something they're not supposed to, but when you think they may do that something to your own kid, then you start to really mind? So when I found out they were gonna put Jesse and Ogden in the same cell, I had to get it straight with Ogden. I said to him,
"Og, what's the deal? You into boys and kids or what?"
"No, Mrs. Batten, I don't do that shit," said Odgen.
For some reason, hearing him say that made me feel better. Unless he was lying. So I said,
"So what shit do you do?"
I wanted to hear him say, I do women only. But I noticed Jesse roll his eyes and moan, like he didn't want to be in the same room with me. I see it now - he acts tough around Ogden. And all I was trying to do was protect him. The cop was really interested though. Ogden just answered, in a respectful way.
"I do dope, man, just dope. Not kids."
"What about that time you got picked up for being with some kid? What was that about?"
"Ah Jesus, that was a little kid with a big mouth, man. I was walking by and he came out of his house and demanded a smoke from me. I said, Sure man, just give me two bucks. He said no. So I said, Go in your house and get me a beer. But he wouldn't go. So I left, man. But the kid came after me, grabbed my leg and tried to grab my package of smokes. I don't know. I pushed him. Maybe I picked him up. He screamed and screamed. Some old lady called the cops on me."
I wanted to believe him, because even though he looked terrible, he still had a rugged face. He looked like he was telling the truth. The cops were gonna put them in the same cell any way, whether I believed him or not. So I just let it be. But you know, after a couple visits to the jail, Ogden grows on ya. He's tall and muscular, stoops a bit, like he dont't really want to face the world, like if you leave him be, he'll leave you be, unless you goad him, then he'd get real angry and go crazy on you. He's strong and fucked up at the same time. Walks kind of unsteady. If you pushed him, he might tilt over. Jesse said when he's stoned, he's got his feet planted firmly on the ground - you feel his anger coming before you see him.
He wears a baseball cap over his long blond hair all the time. He has stubbles every time I see him. You just have an urge to stroke his jaw and scratch an itch on your hand or something. His lips are always wet and parted, like he's looking for the next fix, something to put in his mouth. When I see him, he's usually polite, but mopey. Mostly keeps to himself when I'm with Jesse.
Today, when I got there, he and Jesse were in the yard, standing by themselves. He nodded at me and said, "Mrs. Batten," then walked away to leave me, Sam and Jesse to visit. See what I mean? He grows on you. I'm finding him kinda sexy.
Jesse's real happy to see me when I visit. I think he's happier to see me now that he's in prison than when he lived at home. Today, I brought him muffins. I told him to share them with Ogden. I told him I was going to raise money somehow to get him out of jail or to hire him a real good lawyer. He was pleased to hear that. But I had no idea how I'd the raise money.
On the way home, Sam took me to the bank. Mitch's money should have come in two days ago. Except it didn't. So Sam had to loan me money to buy a pregnancy test kit at the drugstore. The kit comes with two tests, I guess in case you want to have two kids, you don't have to buy the test again for the second pregnancy. After, we shopped for groceries. Sam treated me to fish and chips in town before coming back to the park.
We got home about 6:00 p.m. Shannon the gossip bitch came running up to us as soon as she saw me and Sam drive in through the park gate.
"Hey Mindy, where have you been? There was some guy here looking for you," she said.
"What'd he want?"
"How would I know? He came asking for you and asked when you might be back. I told him he could stay at our site till you got back. But he left."
"What'd he look like?"
"He wore a suit, older, real short hair."
"What did he say?"
"He said he'll come back."
I looked at Sam and shrugged. I had no idea who the man was or what he wanted.
"So who was that looking for you, Mindy?" said Shannon.
"Don't know."
"You in some kind of trouble again?"
"Not that I know of, Shannon. But you'll be the first to know if I am." She is such a bitch. Sam drove away with Shannon standing there smirking at me.
Soon as we got near my site, Liz came over and said,
"Hi Mindy, someone came looking for you."
"Was it a man in a suit? Shannon told me."
"That's right. He waited at your site a bit before leaving."
"Did he tell you what he wanted?"
"No. I didn't really talk to him. When he asked me if this was your site, I just said yes."
"Thanks, Liz. I don't know what it's about either."
"Okay." Liz went back to her site.
We stoppd to put some of my stuff down, took the "kit" with us, and went on to Sam's trailer. Just as we drove in, old Mr. Miller came up.
"Hi Mindy, hi Sam," he said. "Mindy, you had a gentleman caller today."
"The man in the suit?" I said. I was gettng annoyed. And I was nervous because I was holding the small drugstore bag and I didn't want Mr. MIller to know what's inside.
"That's right. You know about it already?"
"Not really. Shannon told me at the gate someone came around. Did he tell you what he wanted?" I put the kit casually in Sam's shopping bag. She carried her shopping inside the trailer.
"No, no. I didn't ask him. He came around checking at several sites to see if you were around. Just wanted to let you know he was looking for you in case you didn't, that's all."
"Thanks, Mr. Miller. I expect he'll call again."
"That's what he said. You have a good evening." Then Mr. Miller went back to his own site.
Jesus, does the whole park know someone's looking for me? Who is this man?
I went inside the trailer to get Sam. Her husband Fred was rooting through her shopping. He had taken my kit out of the drug store bag and put it on the table. Shit, I don't want him to look at it. I went up to the table and picked up the kit.
"Oh, that doesn't belong to Sam." I said, trying to sound casual and putting it back in the drugstore bag.
"It's okay, hon," said Sam to me, "I use them all the time. Fred's used to them."
"What? Used to what?" said Fred.
"Nothing," said Sam, seeing that I was uncomfortable. Bless her.
"Honey," she said to Fred, "Can you get outta here for a while. Me and Mindy got some girl things to do."
Oh god, can she make it more obvious? So I said, "But no big deal, Fred. We can do it later."
"Oh no. I know when I'm not wanted," he said. "And don't tell me what you're doing. I don't want to know."
You can tell he's a real good gas metre reader. He keeps quiet about things he sees in people's houses. He took a pack of cigarettes out of the shopping bag and went out.
Sam was more excited than me to do the pregancy test. I was just scared. She ripped opened the kit and we looked over the instructions.
"Nothing new here. It's the usual test," she said. She explained there's nothing to it. When you get in the washroom, you take the little stick of out its wrapper, pee on it, and wait a few minutes. If the window on the stick turns blue, you're pregnant. If it doesn't, you're not. The test is more accurate if you do in the morning, with your first pee. Simple right? But Sam was impatient and I was anxious to know. So we decided to do a test now, and do a second one in the morning to confirm.
I took one of the wrapped sticks into the washroom. The window in there was open and I could hear Fred outside talking to Dean Jones. Dean and his wife own the park. I reached over to close the window. But Dean saw me and said,
"Oh hello, there you are, Mindy. I was just looking for you."
Crap. "Hi Dean," I said.
"Oh no, you don't want to go bothering her right now," said Fred, laughing. "She and Sam are doing some girlie thing in there."
Crap, crap. Is everyone going to find out what I'm doing?
"Is that so?" said Dean. "What kind of girlie thing?"
Jesus. Kill me now.
"Just the usual, Dean." I said. "Why're you looking for me?"
"A man came looking for you today."
Fuck, the whole park thinks I'm a hunted woman or something.
"That the same man Shannon and the others saw?"
"I don't know about that. He looked real business like. Came in a limousine and parked it outside the gate. There was at least one other man in the car. But this one, he came out and asked for you at the gate. I told him your site number and he walked in to look for you. He came out later and said you weren't there and he'd come back another time."
"Okay, thanks Dean. I have no idea who he is or what he wants," I said.
"Alright, just wanted you to know." Then he turned back to Fred and continued talking with him.
I slid my pants down and sat on the toilet, trying not to make a lot of noise, on account of Fred and Dean being outside and the window still open. But it was hard, I unwrapped the strip, put it under me and pee on it. I'm not even finished when Fred knocked on the trailer door and called in,
"You girls done with your girlie thing yet? How about a couple of beers for me and Dean?"
Okay, forget the stupid test. I can't do it with those two outside the window, talking to me and wanting beer. I shoved the wet stick back in the wrapper, finished my pee and went back into the sitting room.
"Let's see, let's see the stick," said Sam.
"I couldn't do it," I said. "I didn't do it properly. Fred and Dean were outside talking to me. And I heard Fred knocking and wanting beer. So I just stopped." Sam looked disappointed. She said,
"Do it in the morning. It's a better time anyway."
Just then, Dean called in again, "How about those beers, Sam?"
"Okay," Sam called back out. She opened the fridge and took out two beers. She stuck them out the door to Fred. I threw the whole kit back into the drugstore bag and went outside with Sam.
Fred said, "What? You girls aren't joining us for a beer?"
And Dean said, "What you got in that bag, Mindy." He was pointing at my drugstore bag.
"Nothing," I said. "Just something I picked up in town."
"How's Jesse?" asked Dean.
"He's doing okay. He rather be home though." I can see Dean was asking just to be polite. I know he didn't like my trailer burning up in his park, and now it's my son who's in jail. I know he's not comfortable with us now. Not like before when we were all chummy, drinking together all the time, especially when Mitch was home.
Sam must've sensed the awkwardness. She chimed in, "We're gonna do a fundraiser for Jesse, right here in the park. That okay with you, Dean?"
Dean seemed a little taken aback. He said, "Well, that depends on what you do. So long as it doesn't get in the way of the other guests, I guess so." At least he didn't say no.
"Yeah, we haven't figure it all out yet," said Sam.
"What kind of things were you thinking?" said Dean.
"Don't know. Maybe a bake sale? A car wash?" said Sam.
"Yeah," I jumped in. "A car wash is good. We could do it outside the gate, so it's not just park people who can donate. Anyone can bring their car. They don't even have to come inside the park."
I waved towards the gate as I said this. The waving made me fling my drugstore bag to the grass. I rushed to pick it up. Sam was ahead of me. As she bent down to pick up the bag, I saw the kit had spilled out on the grass. The used stick had come out of the wrapper and out of the bag. A little blue square at one end of the stick was looking back up at me.
Holy, holy, fucking shit.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Jesse's Revenge
I was still at Liz's when I saw a cop car drive into my site. He was a young cop, maybe 22, short dark wavy hair, blue eyes, nice arch in his eyebrows, strong jaws. Even in his uniform, I can tell his had a good built. He must've been new on the job, 'cause he seemed nervous, looking around. I called out,
"Yoohoo mister, you looking for me?"
"Are you Mindy Batten?" said the young cop, getting out of the car. He was tall and athletic, his clothes neat and pressed. Honestly, guys in uniforms are so cute.
"You got me," I said, "Come on over here. You on a social call, or pleasure call?" I winked at him.
"Mrs. Batten, which is your site?" He's curious about me, this one.
"Where you are. I'm visiting with my neighbour here. Come and sit," I patted the bench beside me.
"Mrs. Batten, would you mind coming back to your site so we can talk. This is a police matter," he said in a deedper voice, trying hard to take no notice of my friendliness. Oh I like the serious ones. I bid a quick goodbye to Liz and went back to my site.
"I'm all yours," I said, "You want to have a drink or something?"
"No thanks, M'am." He looked down, but I could tell he was blushing.
"Well, I'd like one," I said.
"M'am, I need to talk to you."
"Like I said, I'm all yours."
"Are you the mother of Jesse Batten?"
Mother of Jesse? Jesus, that poured ice on a girl in heat.
"Yes, I'm his mother. Is he okay?"
"He's fine, m'am," he took off his cap, showed me his I.D. and made a slight bow. "My name is Officer McCorkle. Jesse's being held in the county police office right now. I'm to accompany you back to the station so the sargent can talk to you."
"What's happened? Why's Jesse in jail?"
"That's why I'm here, m'am, so I can bring you to the office where the sargeant will talk to you about that. How soon can you leave?"
Well jeepers creepers. Jesse in jail? That's not like him to get in trouble like this. There must be a mistake. The boy's moody and difficult. He's a teenager, that's all. I went inside the tent and put on a clean T-shirt.
"Look, I don't have a car or any kind of transportation. I'll come with you, but you need to bring me back too, okay? Or I can't go with you."
"We can arrange something to bring you back, m'am."
I was all torn inside, like I couldn't be myself. He was so serious and not smiling, and Jesse was in some kind of trouble. I didn't know what to do with myself. Jesse's never been in trouble with the law before.
We drove mostly in silence. I tried to make small talk, but he would only give me short "yes m'am", "no m,am", "wouldn't know about that, ma'm" answers. I wished he'd stop calling me m'am. Made me feel old.
We got to the Wittle Lake police station and a Sargeant Burns sat me down in his office. Jesse was sitting there, looking pretty rough and dirty. Didn't smell so good either.
"What happened to you, Jesse?" I said. He reached for me and started crying. I held him and patted his head. God, he stank. So Sargeant Burns told me the story and Jesse kept nodding as if to say, yeah, that's what happened.
Well, holy crap! That's what that stink was last night. Jesse was responsible for that? Incredible.
What happened was, Jesse was still mad at me and Mick when he was riding in a car with that Ogden fellow yesterday, when he spotted Mick's truck in a field. It was just sitting there, in the middle of old Penner's field, beside Penner's tool shack. The truck was a good 10 minute walk to the Penner farm. Now Ogden is a big, tough guy. He's older than Jesse, maybe five or ten years older. I don't know how he and Jesse got to be friends. I didn't think they even knew each other. But Ogden parked the car on the side of the road and they went into the field to check out the truck, thinking they'd rough up Mick a bit on account of him spreading lies about them. When they got closer to the truck, who did they see circling the truck? Not Mick. It was Joel Woodsinger, old Penner's son-in-law.
Joel was about 45, real heavy set and burly. He basically ran old Penner's chicken farm and worked his ass off. Sometimes, he even brought eggs and vegetables to the park to sell. Jesse worked for him last summer picking beans and cabbage. He was smoking weed and looking at the truck with an angry face, kicking dirt at the tires.
"Hi Jesse. Looking for Mick?" said Joel as Jesse and Ogden got close.
"Yup. He in there?" said Jesse.
"Nope. What do you want him for?"
"You and Mick friends?"
"Hell no. What do you want with him?"
"He roughed me up and spread lies about me and Og here. We want to take that up with him."
"Any truth to what he said about you?"
"No. Whatever you heard, ain't true. Mick's a fucking liar and a cheat."
"Oh, I know about that alright."
"We're gonna get him."
"Well, boys, our Mick's a trouble-maker, ain't he?" said Joel. He took a big toke on his joint and handed it to them, "You boys smoke?"
"Sure."
So the three of them started toking up a storm. The more they smoked, the more they complainted about Mick, the more excited they got.
"Porking my wife, you know. That's a disgrace. When I'm out working so hard," Joel said.
"He sucks shit. How dare he push me around," Jesse said.
"Who the fuck does he think he is, calling me a fag?" Ogden said.
"Parks in my field, sneaks into my house, fucks my wife when he thinks I'm not looking."
"Lies to me, lies to my ma. Gets me in trouble with the cops."
"Ruins my reputation."
"Fat ass."
"Fuck head."
"Slime ball."
"Should be taught a lesson."
"Should be taken out of commission."
"Should get him in trouble."
"Get rid of his stinky truck, then we'll see how he gets around."
"Burn it up."
"Give him a good scare."
"Hey, I got gas in the shed."
"I could crawl under the truck."
"I got matches."
"I could say he was trespassing."
"I could say I was a witness."
"I could drive us away."
"Damn, we make a good team."
"Ha ha, revenge at last."
"Bring him down."
So they went on like that. They must've had ten joints, and all the cigarettes Joel had in his pack of smokes. They were so stoned and laughing so hard by this time, no one knew who did what. But they did pour gas on Mick's truck, poured gas under the truck, set the truck on fire, and drove away.
They were still laughing and weaving on the road when the cop stopped Ogden for drunken driving five minutes later. The cop was taking Ogden's driver's licence when suddenly, they heard KABOOM down the road, following by several smaller booms and bangs. The three of them looked at each other astonished like, and the cop went, "Holy Mackerel!" They were looking at a small mushroom cloud rising from a field.
The three of them burst out laughing and doubled over, they were laughing so hard. Joel fell over and was rolling on the ground, holding his stomach in. Ogden pissed in his pants, which made Jesse laugh even more, heaving for breath. Suddeny, Joel clutched the cop's leg with one hand and his heart with the other. He started gasping for air and his face went white. Then he lay limp and still. The cop grabbed his car radio and called into it, "Code blue, code blue, we need an ambulance here. Heart attack victim."
Jesse and Ogden stopped laughing. They looked at each other and felt dollops of murky thick rain hit their hair, face and arms. Then all the air around them filled up with the smell of shit.
"Yoohoo mister, you looking for me?"
"Are you Mindy Batten?" said the young cop, getting out of the car. He was tall and athletic, his clothes neat and pressed. Honestly, guys in uniforms are so cute.
"You got me," I said, "Come on over here. You on a social call, or pleasure call?" I winked at him.
"Mrs. Batten, which is your site?" He's curious about me, this one.
"Where you are. I'm visiting with my neighbour here. Come and sit," I patted the bench beside me.
"Mrs. Batten, would you mind coming back to your site so we can talk. This is a police matter," he said in a deedper voice, trying hard to take no notice of my friendliness. Oh I like the serious ones. I bid a quick goodbye to Liz and went back to my site.
"I'm all yours," I said, "You want to have a drink or something?"
"No thanks, M'am." He looked down, but I could tell he was blushing.
"Well, I'd like one," I said.
"M'am, I need to talk to you."
"Like I said, I'm all yours."
"Are you the mother of Jesse Batten?"
Mother of Jesse? Jesus, that poured ice on a girl in heat.
"Yes, I'm his mother. Is he okay?"
"He's fine, m'am," he took off his cap, showed me his I.D. and made a slight bow. "My name is Officer McCorkle. Jesse's being held in the county police office right now. I'm to accompany you back to the station so the sargent can talk to you."
"What's happened? Why's Jesse in jail?"
"That's why I'm here, m'am, so I can bring you to the office where the sargeant will talk to you about that. How soon can you leave?"
Well jeepers creepers. Jesse in jail? That's not like him to get in trouble like this. There must be a mistake. The boy's moody and difficult. He's a teenager, that's all. I went inside the tent and put on a clean T-shirt.
"Look, I don't have a car or any kind of transportation. I'll come with you, but you need to bring me back too, okay? Or I can't go with you."
"We can arrange something to bring you back, m'am."
I was all torn inside, like I couldn't be myself. He was so serious and not smiling, and Jesse was in some kind of trouble. I didn't know what to do with myself. Jesse's never been in trouble with the law before.
We drove mostly in silence. I tried to make small talk, but he would only give me short "yes m'am", "no m,am", "wouldn't know about that, ma'm" answers. I wished he'd stop calling me m'am. Made me feel old.
We got to the Wittle Lake police station and a Sargeant Burns sat me down in his office. Jesse was sitting there, looking pretty rough and dirty. Didn't smell so good either.
"What happened to you, Jesse?" I said. He reached for me and started crying. I held him and patted his head. God, he stank. So Sargeant Burns told me the story and Jesse kept nodding as if to say, yeah, that's what happened.
Well, holy crap! That's what that stink was last night. Jesse was responsible for that? Incredible.
What happened was, Jesse was still mad at me and Mick when he was riding in a car with that Ogden fellow yesterday, when he spotted Mick's truck in a field. It was just sitting there, in the middle of old Penner's field, beside Penner's tool shack. The truck was a good 10 minute walk to the Penner farm. Now Ogden is a big, tough guy. He's older than Jesse, maybe five or ten years older. I don't know how he and Jesse got to be friends. I didn't think they even knew each other. But Ogden parked the car on the side of the road and they went into the field to check out the truck, thinking they'd rough up Mick a bit on account of him spreading lies about them. When they got closer to the truck, who did they see circling the truck? Not Mick. It was Joel Woodsinger, old Penner's son-in-law.
Joel was about 45, real heavy set and burly. He basically ran old Penner's chicken farm and worked his ass off. Sometimes, he even brought eggs and vegetables to the park to sell. Jesse worked for him last summer picking beans and cabbage. He was smoking weed and looking at the truck with an angry face, kicking dirt at the tires.
"Hi Jesse. Looking for Mick?" said Joel as Jesse and Ogden got close.
"Yup. He in there?" said Jesse.
"Nope. What do you want him for?"
"You and Mick friends?"
"Hell no. What do you want with him?"
"He roughed me up and spread lies about me and Og here. We want to take that up with him."
"Any truth to what he said about you?"
"No. Whatever you heard, ain't true. Mick's a fucking liar and a cheat."
"Oh, I know about that alright."
"We're gonna get him."
"Well, boys, our Mick's a trouble-maker, ain't he?" said Joel. He took a big toke on his joint and handed it to them, "You boys smoke?"
"Sure."
So the three of them started toking up a storm. The more they smoked, the more they complainted about Mick, the more excited they got.
"Porking my wife, you know. That's a disgrace. When I'm out working so hard," Joel said.
"He sucks shit. How dare he push me around," Jesse said.
"Who the fuck does he think he is, calling me a fag?" Ogden said.
"Parks in my field, sneaks into my house, fucks my wife when he thinks I'm not looking."
"Lies to me, lies to my ma. Gets me in trouble with the cops."
"Ruins my reputation."
"Fat ass."
"Fuck head."
"Slime ball."
"Should be taught a lesson."
"Should be taken out of commission."
"Should get him in trouble."
"Get rid of his stinky truck, then we'll see how he gets around."
"Burn it up."
"Give him a good scare."
"Hey, I got gas in the shed."
"I could crawl under the truck."
"I got matches."
"I could say he was trespassing."
"I could say I was a witness."
"I could drive us away."
"Damn, we make a good team."
"Ha ha, revenge at last."
"Bring him down."
So they went on like that. They must've had ten joints, and all the cigarettes Joel had in his pack of smokes. They were so stoned and laughing so hard by this time, no one knew who did what. But they did pour gas on Mick's truck, poured gas under the truck, set the truck on fire, and drove away.
They were still laughing and weaving on the road when the cop stopped Ogden for drunken driving five minutes later. The cop was taking Ogden's driver's licence when suddenly, they heard KABOOM down the road, following by several smaller booms and bangs. The three of them looked at each other astonished like, and the cop went, "Holy Mackerel!" They were looking at a small mushroom cloud rising from a field.
The three of them burst out laughing and doubled over, they were laughing so hard. Joel fell over and was rolling on the ground, holding his stomach in. Ogden pissed in his pants, which made Jesse laugh even more, heaving for breath. Suddeny, Joel clutched the cop's leg with one hand and his heart with the other. He started gasping for air and his face went white. Then he lay limp and still. The cop grabbed his car radio and called into it, "Code blue, code blue, we need an ambulance here. Heart attack victim."
Jesse and Ogden stopped laughing. They looked at each other and felt dollops of murky thick rain hit their hair, face and arms. Then all the air around them filled up with the smell of shit.
Friday, October 07, 2005
No Place Like Home
It took the next day before the shit stench went away. In the morning, I realized Jesse hadn't come home, again.
I tidied myself up best I could. It's a real nuisance not having your own trailer. I had to use the sinks at the vault toilet for all my washing. No privacy. Good thing they had a couple of showers in the park though. But you gotta put coins in them to get the water.
I couldn't cook like a normal person in a kitchen either. I had to use a rickety old propane stove on the picnic table. I got two of these wobbly things. When it's windy, I have to put the stoves on the ground and bent over them to cook. Sometimes a neighbour lets me use their BBQ stove if we're cooking the same time. But I still gotta haul the dishes to the vault toilet to wash after. Sometimes, it's just easier with paper plates. Depends on what I'm cooking. Like if I do a couple tins of soup, you can't eat nothing that's too wet off a paper anything.
It's bad when it rains. I got no where to go but inside the tent. All's I could do is lie there on the blankets. It's boring in there staring at the top of the tent. You can't really stand up to stretch or nothing. But I'm getting used to the tent. It's supposed to be a six-man tent. I can't see that. Me and Jesse barely fit in.
I sure made a mistake with Mick. What can I say? He was no good. He's not like Gordie or the others. Gordie and especially Jack, really spoiled me. Gordie was a real gentleman. Neither his wife, his girlfriend, or none of his friends knew about us. He never breathed a word to no one. Sometimes, we barely talked. When we finished, sometimes he fixed little things inside the trailer for me. We were together for almost two years, except when Mitch came home. When Gordie moved out of the park, no one even thought we knew each other.
Jack was this young fella I met in the pub in Widdle Lake. Real charming and smooth talking. So good looking 'cause he did construction work. Came to do some road work in town a couple of summers ago. He shared a house with a bunch of guys. Sometimes he came to the park to see me, sometimes I went to his house. He didn't know anyone else in the park. The first time he came, he told the gate I was his godmother so no one suspected nothing. The guys in his house never even notice when I was there or not.
One time Jack was here and the trailer died. I couldn't drive it out of the park. The engine wouldn't kick in. But Jack fixed it. Took him over an hour to make the trailer run. Turned out I ran out of gas and didn't know it. Completely out, not a drop left. So he got in his car, brought back some gas in a plastic tank, and poured in it my trailer tank. Then he cleaned and tightened my engine to make sure it was good. Always doing stuff like that. Sometimes he even fixed little things for my neighbours. He was a real prince. Not like Mick.
You get spoiled when you're used to having good boyfriends.
I shoulda known and stopped relations with Mick when I found out he was married. He told me he wasn't. I found out he was when his wife phoned him on the cell right while we were doing it. But I reasoned, that's okay. I've had married, I'm married myself, so we're even.
As I'm ruminating this, the little Stinson girl, Leanne, from the next site wondered over. She must've known I'm putting something together for her family. She's a sweet little blond thing, maybe four or five, real tall for her age. But you know she's not older 'cause she's immature and shy like. She don't talk much. She's skinny and unwashed. Wears the same torn clothes almost everyday. Maybe more like her mom changes her from one rag to another. I may have lost my trailer and I got no transportation now, but I got clothes on my back, and most else of what I need.
Mitch wanted us to save up a house. That's why we were living in a trailer. The trailer used to belong to his parents. It's their old one. We used to live in the folks' basement. But when they retired, they sold their house and we had to find some place else to live. They bought a real fancy recreational vehicle and gave us their old trailer. Now they travel all over the country and stay in different parks. Kind of moving with the weather. Mitch figured if they could do it, so could we. That way, we save money and buy our own house earlier. At the time, it made sense. Mitch had no money and no real job and we already had Jesse. It was a real cheap way to live. Then Mitch joined the Army. The pay wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. Only, it's been ten years now. And Mitch is still a private. He's never been home long enough so we never got around to buying a house either. We've been in this park six years.
Mitch comes home every six months or so. I never had a phone in the trailer so Mitch writes to me. He don't say much ever. Just regular stuff like - I'm doing okay, hope you're okay, keep an eye on that Jesse 'cause he's sure growing fast, say hi to everyone - that kind of stuff. When he comes home, sometimes he just shows up without warning. He stays for two to four weeks, then he goes off again. He hasn't been back for over a year on account of being in Iraq. But I'm expecting him home, next month in fact.
Yeah, despite my owning nothing, I still have a husband and son. We have money in the bank too. I don't know how much. None of it is in my name. It's all in Mitch's name. It's not like I can go and take a chunk out and buy a new trailer. Mitch set up an account for me and puts my monthly allowance in there. It's not much, but at least I got something to live on even though I don't have the trailer any more. I'm real frugal, you know. I spend mostly on Jesse, food and beer. Once in a while, I buy a bottle of whisky and sometimes a case of those lady-like cooler drinks. I wish I had more money though, because at the end of the month, I don't have anything left. Sometimes I run out before the end of the month.
Now Leanne and her family - they really got nothing. True, they have their trailer. But it's an old rusty one. It hitches to their car, but I've never seen them drive their car. They never go anywhere. I don't know what Leanne's parents do, Liz and Kieran. They're always home, either inside the trailer or sitting out reading. I think they're reading the Bible. I seen it lying on their trailer step once. But they've been reading it like forever and they're still not done. If it's so hard to get through, they should just go on to something else. I never hear them talk. I never seen them play with the little girl. I never hear her laugh. She's a kid. She's supposed to run around and laugh. Liz is pregnant with another baby. She's due any minute now.
I got a ride into town with Daisy earlier in the week and bought what Jesse and I needed. I also got some extra food and some baby stuff. I just feel so sorry for Leanne and her folks. They're a young family. Maybe he's not so young. He could be over 40 but I can't tell on account of him being so mopey all the time. But she's definitely young. She could be 25, not over 30 anyway. But the whole bunch of them looks malnurished. With another baby on the way, Liz looks too skinny and sickly all the time. It's like they really need someone competent to take care of them. Too bad they're none too friendly. They don't socialize with others much. But they're not rude or bothersome either. They're just there, meek like. Once in a while when I remember to, I pack a box of food stuff for them. It's not much. I just buy more of the stuff I buy for myself and give them that. This time, there's baby stuff in the box too. I think Mrs. Miller also gives them something sometimes.
Leanne stood beside me now.
"Hey sugar. Your folks up yet?"
She shook her head.
"You want some breakfast?"
She nodded.
I took a piece of bread out of my own box and put jam on it. I sprinkled some Fruit Loops on top. And I poured her a mug of C-Plus from my can. It's got real orange juice in it. Leanne took the bread and mug from me gently and walked over to the rock where she sat down. She nibbled gingerly on the bread and sipped the drink. Even though she still has sleep in her eyes and her hair's all matted, she looks real sweet sitting there. Reminds me of Little Miss Muffet sitting on her tuffet. What's a tuffet anyway?
Leanne smiles at me now that she's had food. She said, "My dad's crying."
"Why's your dad crying, dear?"
She shrugged.
"Is he sick?"
She shrugged again. She took a deep breath and said, "He cries every morning."
"Is your mom okay?"
She shrugged again and made a "don't know" face. Then she said, "Mommy told me to go outside."
"Know what, honey, I got a box for your family. Maybe we can take it over and cheer them up."
She nodded and stood up. I picked up their box and we set off together.
"Honey, you go first and tell your folks I'm here. Ask them where they want me to leave the box."
Leanne skipped ahead, calling, "Mommy, mommy, Mindy's got a box. Where does she put it?"
She went inside the trailer. A few moments later, Liz came out with Leanne. Liz's eyes was red. She looked awful. She wiped her face with her sleeve.
"Hey honey, you okay?" I said.
"Yeah thanks, Mindy," she said in a croaky voice still sore from crying.
"This is for you." I set the box on their card table.
Liz hung her head and said in a small voice, "Thanks so much, you and everyone in the park."
But you know what? Their card table toppled over just then when she said that, spilling everything in the box out on the grass. We turned in a hurry to pick up the stuff, but as we bent down at the same time, my head banged Liz's head and we both stumbled back. I made a grab for Liz. She has problem with balance now she's so big. But she fell down anyway. I didn't think I knocked her that hard.
She sat on the grass, took a deep breath, and burst into tears.
"I'm sorry, you hurt? Tell me you're not hurt. Gosh, I'm so sorry. That was an accident, you know," I said.
She shook her head and wiped her face with her sleeve again. "I'm okay," she sniffed. "It's just been so hard. Sometimes, I wish we hadn't have left home."
"Where's home?"
"Hollyhock Boulder."
"Hollyhock? Mormon country?"
"Menonite."
"Sorry."
We looked at each other. I didn't know what else to say. So I gave her my hand to help her up.
"You got family there?" I said.
She nodded. "Yes, but we were cut off from them when we left. They're not allowed to see us."
"Who doesn't allow them?"
"The town elders."
"Why'd you leave?"
"Oh...we fell in love."
"And the problem?"
"Kieran was already married."
"That was a problem?"
She looked at me, puzzled. "Kieran is a very religious man."
I guess that was a problem for her. I said, "You want to go back?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I wish we could. But we wouldn't be let back. I wish we just lived a normal life, without all the baggage. I wish we didn't have to rely on handouts. I wish Kieran wasn't so proud and stunned all the time. I wish we were happy."
Jesus, there are such sad people in the world, just sitting around wishing for things. Know what I wish right now? I wish Mick would go to hell, Jesse would come home, and Leanne and her folks got cleaned up before their new baby gets born.
I tidied myself up best I could. It's a real nuisance not having your own trailer. I had to use the sinks at the vault toilet for all my washing. No privacy. Good thing they had a couple of showers in the park though. But you gotta put coins in them to get the water.
I couldn't cook like a normal person in a kitchen either. I had to use a rickety old propane stove on the picnic table. I got two of these wobbly things. When it's windy, I have to put the stoves on the ground and bent over them to cook. Sometimes a neighbour lets me use their BBQ stove if we're cooking the same time. But I still gotta haul the dishes to the vault toilet to wash after. Sometimes, it's just easier with paper plates. Depends on what I'm cooking. Like if I do a couple tins of soup, you can't eat nothing that's too wet off a paper anything.
It's bad when it rains. I got no where to go but inside the tent. All's I could do is lie there on the blankets. It's boring in there staring at the top of the tent. You can't really stand up to stretch or nothing. But I'm getting used to the tent. It's supposed to be a six-man tent. I can't see that. Me and Jesse barely fit in.
I sure made a mistake with Mick. What can I say? He was no good. He's not like Gordie or the others. Gordie and especially Jack, really spoiled me. Gordie was a real gentleman. Neither his wife, his girlfriend, or none of his friends knew about us. He never breathed a word to no one. Sometimes, we barely talked. When we finished, sometimes he fixed little things inside the trailer for me. We were together for almost two years, except when Mitch came home. When Gordie moved out of the park, no one even thought we knew each other.
Jack was this young fella I met in the pub in Widdle Lake. Real charming and smooth talking. So good looking 'cause he did construction work. Came to do some road work in town a couple of summers ago. He shared a house with a bunch of guys. Sometimes he came to the park to see me, sometimes I went to his house. He didn't know anyone else in the park. The first time he came, he told the gate I was his godmother so no one suspected nothing. The guys in his house never even notice when I was there or not.
One time Jack was here and the trailer died. I couldn't drive it out of the park. The engine wouldn't kick in. But Jack fixed it. Took him over an hour to make the trailer run. Turned out I ran out of gas and didn't know it. Completely out, not a drop left. So he got in his car, brought back some gas in a plastic tank, and poured in it my trailer tank. Then he cleaned and tightened my engine to make sure it was good. Always doing stuff like that. Sometimes he even fixed little things for my neighbours. He was a real prince. Not like Mick.
You get spoiled when you're used to having good boyfriends.
I shoulda known and stopped relations with Mick when I found out he was married. He told me he wasn't. I found out he was when his wife phoned him on the cell right while we were doing it. But I reasoned, that's okay. I've had married, I'm married myself, so we're even.
As I'm ruminating this, the little Stinson girl, Leanne, from the next site wondered over. She must've known I'm putting something together for her family. She's a sweet little blond thing, maybe four or five, real tall for her age. But you know she's not older 'cause she's immature and shy like. She don't talk much. She's skinny and unwashed. Wears the same torn clothes almost everyday. Maybe more like her mom changes her from one rag to another. I may have lost my trailer and I got no transportation now, but I got clothes on my back, and most else of what I need.
Mitch wanted us to save up a house. That's why we were living in a trailer. The trailer used to belong to his parents. It's their old one. We used to live in the folks' basement. But when they retired, they sold their house and we had to find some place else to live. They bought a real fancy recreational vehicle and gave us their old trailer. Now they travel all over the country and stay in different parks. Kind of moving with the weather. Mitch figured if they could do it, so could we. That way, we save money and buy our own house earlier. At the time, it made sense. Mitch had no money and no real job and we already had Jesse. It was a real cheap way to live. Then Mitch joined the Army. The pay wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. Only, it's been ten years now. And Mitch is still a private. He's never been home long enough so we never got around to buying a house either. We've been in this park six years.
Mitch comes home every six months or so. I never had a phone in the trailer so Mitch writes to me. He don't say much ever. Just regular stuff like - I'm doing okay, hope you're okay, keep an eye on that Jesse 'cause he's sure growing fast, say hi to everyone - that kind of stuff. When he comes home, sometimes he just shows up without warning. He stays for two to four weeks, then he goes off again. He hasn't been back for over a year on account of being in Iraq. But I'm expecting him home, next month in fact.
Yeah, despite my owning nothing, I still have a husband and son. We have money in the bank too. I don't know how much. None of it is in my name. It's all in Mitch's name. It's not like I can go and take a chunk out and buy a new trailer. Mitch set up an account for me and puts my monthly allowance in there. It's not much, but at least I got something to live on even though I don't have the trailer any more. I'm real frugal, you know. I spend mostly on Jesse, food and beer. Once in a while, I buy a bottle of whisky and sometimes a case of those lady-like cooler drinks. I wish I had more money though, because at the end of the month, I don't have anything left. Sometimes I run out before the end of the month.
Now Leanne and her family - they really got nothing. True, they have their trailer. But it's an old rusty one. It hitches to their car, but I've never seen them drive their car. They never go anywhere. I don't know what Leanne's parents do, Liz and Kieran. They're always home, either inside the trailer or sitting out reading. I think they're reading the Bible. I seen it lying on their trailer step once. But they've been reading it like forever and they're still not done. If it's so hard to get through, they should just go on to something else. I never hear them talk. I never seen them play with the little girl. I never hear her laugh. She's a kid. She's supposed to run around and laugh. Liz is pregnant with another baby. She's due any minute now.
I got a ride into town with Daisy earlier in the week and bought what Jesse and I needed. I also got some extra food and some baby stuff. I just feel so sorry for Leanne and her folks. They're a young family. Maybe he's not so young. He could be over 40 but I can't tell on account of him being so mopey all the time. But she's definitely young. She could be 25, not over 30 anyway. But the whole bunch of them looks malnurished. With another baby on the way, Liz looks too skinny and sickly all the time. It's like they really need someone competent to take care of them. Too bad they're none too friendly. They don't socialize with others much. But they're not rude or bothersome either. They're just there, meek like. Once in a while when I remember to, I pack a box of food stuff for them. It's not much. I just buy more of the stuff I buy for myself and give them that. This time, there's baby stuff in the box too. I think Mrs. Miller also gives them something sometimes.
Leanne stood beside me now.
"Hey sugar. Your folks up yet?"
She shook her head.
"You want some breakfast?"
She nodded.
I took a piece of bread out of my own box and put jam on it. I sprinkled some Fruit Loops on top. And I poured her a mug of C-Plus from my can. It's got real orange juice in it. Leanne took the bread and mug from me gently and walked over to the rock where she sat down. She nibbled gingerly on the bread and sipped the drink. Even though she still has sleep in her eyes and her hair's all matted, she looks real sweet sitting there. Reminds me of Little Miss Muffet sitting on her tuffet. What's a tuffet anyway?
Leanne smiles at me now that she's had food. She said, "My dad's crying."
"Why's your dad crying, dear?"
She shrugged.
"Is he sick?"
She shrugged again. She took a deep breath and said, "He cries every morning."
"Is your mom okay?"
She shrugged again and made a "don't know" face. Then she said, "Mommy told me to go outside."
"Know what, honey, I got a box for your family. Maybe we can take it over and cheer them up."
She nodded and stood up. I picked up their box and we set off together.
"Honey, you go first and tell your folks I'm here. Ask them where they want me to leave the box."
Leanne skipped ahead, calling, "Mommy, mommy, Mindy's got a box. Where does she put it?"
She went inside the trailer. A few moments later, Liz came out with Leanne. Liz's eyes was red. She looked awful. She wiped her face with her sleeve.
"Hey honey, you okay?" I said.
"Yeah thanks, Mindy," she said in a croaky voice still sore from crying.
"This is for you." I set the box on their card table.
Liz hung her head and said in a small voice, "Thanks so much, you and everyone in the park."
But you know what? Their card table toppled over just then when she said that, spilling everything in the box out on the grass. We turned in a hurry to pick up the stuff, but as we bent down at the same time, my head banged Liz's head and we both stumbled back. I made a grab for Liz. She has problem with balance now she's so big. But she fell down anyway. I didn't think I knocked her that hard.
She sat on the grass, took a deep breath, and burst into tears.
"I'm sorry, you hurt? Tell me you're not hurt. Gosh, I'm so sorry. That was an accident, you know," I said.
She shook her head and wiped her face with her sleeve again. "I'm okay," she sniffed. "It's just been so hard. Sometimes, I wish we hadn't have left home."
"Where's home?"
"Hollyhock Boulder."
"Hollyhock? Mormon country?"
"Menonite."
"Sorry."
We looked at each other. I didn't know what else to say. So I gave her my hand to help her up.
"You got family there?" I said.
She nodded. "Yes, but we were cut off from them when we left. They're not allowed to see us."
"Who doesn't allow them?"
"The town elders."
"Why'd you leave?"
"Oh...we fell in love."
"And the problem?"
"Kieran was already married."
"That was a problem?"
She looked at me, puzzled. "Kieran is a very religious man."
I guess that was a problem for her. I said, "You want to go back?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I wish we could. But we wouldn't be let back. I wish we just lived a normal life, without all the baggage. I wish we didn't have to rely on handouts. I wish Kieran wasn't so proud and stunned all the time. I wish we were happy."
Jesus, there are such sad people in the world, just sitting around wishing for things. Know what I wish right now? I wish Mick would go to hell, Jesse would come home, and Leanne and her folks got cleaned up before their new baby gets born.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
A Stroll In The Park
Jesse didn't know about me and Mick. Mick came to the park about once a week to clean the toilets. Jesse knew Mick stopped by our trailer sometimes, to have a beer or to socialize. But it was always during the day. It's when I knew Jesse was away that Mick and I went inside to get the lust out of the way. But Mick never stayed till morning even when Jesse didn't come home for the night.
One day, Mick was in the park again vacuuming the toilets. Jesse went up to him and gave him what for. He was still mad at Mick. Mick wasn't very adult about it. He actually made things worse. He flicked his cigarette ash in Jesse's face and called him names.
"It's all over town, you and Ogden. Everyone seen you. You're just a little faggot - Og's boy toy - that what they call you these days? Ha ha ha ha."
Jesse shoved Mick into the side of his truck. But Mick was stronger. Mick pushed Jesse back hard and made him fall down. He hovered over Jesse.
"Why you're just like a girl, weak and falling all over. Lucky you're not a real girl, cause if you are, I'd do you the way I do your ma. Mother and daughter - I screw 'em both!" He stuck his arms out and pumped them back and forth, making humping motions with his hips at the same time. Some people walking by stopped to watch. "But you're just a little punk, the way your ma is a little whore. Ha ha ha ha..." he said with evil in his voice and walked away. I knew Mick was chicken shit and a liar. Now he' a bully too. I hate him.
That's how Jesse came to badger me if I'd slept with Mick. Technically, we never spent the night together sleeping so I told him no. But Jesse wouldn't believe me.
"You're a traitor," he bellowed. "You betrayed dad. And me. You are a whore." Jesus, he was angry.
"Stop it, Jesse," I said, "Don't talk to me like that. I'm your mother."
"I have no mother. I live with a whore." He was crying now. Well, what can I do? I don't want to be around a crying sissy who don't understand I'm human and can get lonely. I left him to visit Travis and Daisy. They have cigs and they're always good for a laugh.
Travis wasn't home. so I sat with Daisy. They live in the trailer five sites from mine. They're one of those park residents who have a house in town. But they rent it out to a family with little kids. Travis works in town. I seen him at the installation service part of the hardware store all the time. He's one of those guys that you contract to go to your house and fix things. Daisy is a homemaker like me. She is claustrophobic so she won't live in her house. She prefers the park. Said a trailer is easier to keep clean than a house. You got that right. A tent is even easier to keep clean, cause if it's not clean, it's okay. No one expects a tent to be clean. In fact, you expect some dirt and mess in a tent, otherwise, it's not normal.
Daisy is a great gossip. On account of her not working during the day, she knows all kinds of stuff about the park and who to keep an eye on. We sat around her trailer, smoked and talked some. About two hours later, she said, "Let's go for a walk." So we went walking around the park.
At the other end of the park, we came to Kandir Choojah's trailer. He's an Indian fellow. He used to be real skinny when he first moved into the park. It was kind of scary when you looked at him. Here was an old guy with balding long white hair and if you looked too hard at him, you might see through him. That was, what eight years ago? But now, he's obviously been putting on the weight. Especially since he started making apple pies. He's not just rounder. He looks younger and taller somehow. The pies must be a good business for him.
Choojah and his wife don't eat meat. They're vegetarians because of their religion. He discovered his baking talent a few years ago when he took his grandkids apple picking. They came back with 18 bushels of apples. I guess they got carried away. The grandkids took some home, but they still had like 17 bushels left. So everyday, old Choojah went inside his trailer and made apple pies. His wife took the pies to the Super J's in town and sold them. Super J put up a sign that says Home Made Apple Pie. It has a picture of a farmer's wife on it with a farm in the background, so you think the pies were made by her in the country, not by old Choojah in his trailer. The pies flew off the shelve like hot cakes. Get it? So every Fall since, Choojah picked tons of apples and made pies in his trailer.
I could smell Choojah's pies as we got close to his site. Daisy said to me, "Smell that. What do you smell?"
"It's the apple pies. It's smells delcious."
"Yeah, but what else? What else do you smell?"
"What do you mean?"
"Turn this way and take in a deep breath. What's that smell kind of inside the pie smell?"
We were standing there sniffing Choojah's pie smell when he came out. He was licking his chops and burped, like he'd just had a feast.
"Ooh, hello," he said, fumbling with a bag of garbage in his arms. The garbage was spilling over at the top. Fast food wrappers came tumbling out. He was quick to snatch them away and stuff them back in the bag.
Ha, I get it now. Inside that apple pie smell is the smell of all beef patties, sauce, lettuce, cheese, and pickles on a sesame seed bun!
Daisy said, "How's it going? The pies sure smell good."
"Thank you. This batch almost done, ya?" said Choojah, tying up his garbage bag to make sure nothing spilled out.
We waved goodbye and continued on our way. When we got out of earshot of Choojah, I said,
"Really impressive. Did he eat all those burgers?"
"I'm sure he ate some. But the rest he didn't eat."
"What'd you mean? How'd you know?"
"He didn't eat all those burgers."
"Maybe he didn't eat them all today. Maybe he ate them over a few months and just took out the garbage now."
"No. He has a big sack of burger wrappers like that everyday."
"Wow. He sure like his burgers."
"No, you idiot. He can't eat all those burgers every day."
"No. He just eats them in the Fall."
"Exactly. He only buys them in the Fall. When he makes his pies."
"You mean..."
"Have you ever eaten one of his pies?"
"No, but I hear they're real good."
"Yeah, because they've got meat in them."
"In apple pies?"
"He puts them in."
I was bowled over. Jesus. That IS the smell of Bic Mac and apple pie in one.
By this time, it was getting pretty dark. Aside from the pie smell, another smell was wafting through the air. If I turned to face Choojah's direction, I smelled burger apples pies. If I faced the park entrance, I smelled sewage. Or was it the other way around?
But it was definitely sewage. People around the park started to complain.
"God, where is that smell coming from?"
"It's like it just sits in the air over us."
"Did our toilets overflow?"
"No, the park owner just checked. They're fine."
"It's like having shit all over us."
After coming out of the nice pie smell, I get the shit smell. I hate that smell. It just so reminded me of Mick, who I want to forget. Jesus.
One day, Mick was in the park again vacuuming the toilets. Jesse went up to him and gave him what for. He was still mad at Mick. Mick wasn't very adult about it. He actually made things worse. He flicked his cigarette ash in Jesse's face and called him names.
"It's all over town, you and Ogden. Everyone seen you. You're just a little faggot - Og's boy toy - that what they call you these days? Ha ha ha ha."
Jesse shoved Mick into the side of his truck. But Mick was stronger. Mick pushed Jesse back hard and made him fall down. He hovered over Jesse.
"Why you're just like a girl, weak and falling all over. Lucky you're not a real girl, cause if you are, I'd do you the way I do your ma. Mother and daughter - I screw 'em both!" He stuck his arms out and pumped them back and forth, making humping motions with his hips at the same time. Some people walking by stopped to watch. "But you're just a little punk, the way your ma is a little whore. Ha ha ha ha..." he said with evil in his voice and walked away. I knew Mick was chicken shit and a liar. Now he' a bully too. I hate him.
That's how Jesse came to badger me if I'd slept with Mick. Technically, we never spent the night together sleeping so I told him no. But Jesse wouldn't believe me.
"You're a traitor," he bellowed. "You betrayed dad. And me. You are a whore." Jesus, he was angry.
"Stop it, Jesse," I said, "Don't talk to me like that. I'm your mother."
"I have no mother. I live with a whore." He was crying now. Well, what can I do? I don't want to be around a crying sissy who don't understand I'm human and can get lonely. I left him to visit Travis and Daisy. They have cigs and they're always good for a laugh.
Travis wasn't home. so I sat with Daisy. They live in the trailer five sites from mine. They're one of those park residents who have a house in town. But they rent it out to a family with little kids. Travis works in town. I seen him at the installation service part of the hardware store all the time. He's one of those guys that you contract to go to your house and fix things. Daisy is a homemaker like me. She is claustrophobic so she won't live in her house. She prefers the park. Said a trailer is easier to keep clean than a house. You got that right. A tent is even easier to keep clean, cause if it's not clean, it's okay. No one expects a tent to be clean. In fact, you expect some dirt and mess in a tent, otherwise, it's not normal.
Daisy is a great gossip. On account of her not working during the day, she knows all kinds of stuff about the park and who to keep an eye on. We sat around her trailer, smoked and talked some. About two hours later, she said, "Let's go for a walk." So we went walking around the park.
At the other end of the park, we came to Kandir Choojah's trailer. He's an Indian fellow. He used to be real skinny when he first moved into the park. It was kind of scary when you looked at him. Here was an old guy with balding long white hair and if you looked too hard at him, you might see through him. That was, what eight years ago? But now, he's obviously been putting on the weight. Especially since he started making apple pies. He's not just rounder. He looks younger and taller somehow. The pies must be a good business for him.
Choojah and his wife don't eat meat. They're vegetarians because of their religion. He discovered his baking talent a few years ago when he took his grandkids apple picking. They came back with 18 bushels of apples. I guess they got carried away. The grandkids took some home, but they still had like 17 bushels left. So everyday, old Choojah went inside his trailer and made apple pies. His wife took the pies to the Super J's in town and sold them. Super J put up a sign that says Home Made Apple Pie. It has a picture of a farmer's wife on it with a farm in the background, so you think the pies were made by her in the country, not by old Choojah in his trailer. The pies flew off the shelve like hot cakes. Get it? So every Fall since, Choojah picked tons of apples and made pies in his trailer.
I could smell Choojah's pies as we got close to his site. Daisy said to me, "Smell that. What do you smell?"
"It's the apple pies. It's smells delcious."
"Yeah, but what else? What else do you smell?"
"What do you mean?"
"Turn this way and take in a deep breath. What's that smell kind of inside the pie smell?"
We were standing there sniffing Choojah's pie smell when he came out. He was licking his chops and burped, like he'd just had a feast.
"Ooh, hello," he said, fumbling with a bag of garbage in his arms. The garbage was spilling over at the top. Fast food wrappers came tumbling out. He was quick to snatch them away and stuff them back in the bag.
Ha, I get it now. Inside that apple pie smell is the smell of all beef patties, sauce, lettuce, cheese, and pickles on a sesame seed bun!
Daisy said, "How's it going? The pies sure smell good."
"Thank you. This batch almost done, ya?" said Choojah, tying up his garbage bag to make sure nothing spilled out.
We waved goodbye and continued on our way. When we got out of earshot of Choojah, I said,
"Really impressive. Did he eat all those burgers?"
"I'm sure he ate some. But the rest he didn't eat."
"What'd you mean? How'd you know?"
"He didn't eat all those burgers."
"Maybe he didn't eat them all today. Maybe he ate them over a few months and just took out the garbage now."
"No. He has a big sack of burger wrappers like that everyday."
"Wow. He sure like his burgers."
"No, you idiot. He can't eat all those burgers every day."
"No. He just eats them in the Fall."
"Exactly. He only buys them in the Fall. When he makes his pies."
"You mean..."
"Have you ever eaten one of his pies?"
"No, but I hear they're real good."
"Yeah, because they've got meat in them."
"In apple pies?"
"He puts them in."
I was bowled over. Jesus. That IS the smell of Bic Mac and apple pie in one.
By this time, it was getting pretty dark. Aside from the pie smell, another smell was wafting through the air. If I turned to face Choojah's direction, I smelled burger apples pies. If I faced the park entrance, I smelled sewage. Or was it the other way around?
But it was definitely sewage. People around the park started to complain.
"God, where is that smell coming from?"
"It's like it just sits in the air over us."
"Did our toilets overflow?"
"No, the park owner just checked. They're fine."
"It's like having shit all over us."
After coming out of the nice pie smell, I get the shit smell. I hate that smell. It just so reminded me of Mick, who I want to forget. Jesus.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Mick's Cop Out
Mick is chicken shit. The night he burned down my trailer, he ran home to his wife and pretended that he barely knew me. After drinking my beer and whisky, not to mention having sex with me. For six months.
The fire marshall came to our trailer park the next day. His name was Dave Dungerall. He was a real cutie. Handsome, decent looking, looks you straight in the eye, hot-to-trot like. He was all worried about other trailers catching on fire too. Well none of them had Mick inside getting drunk and putting fire to it. He also said they need to do an investigation for insurance purposes. What insurance? My trailer wasn't insured. I'm not expecting money from anyone. I told this Dave guy Mick was inside the trailer when it caught on fire. So Dave went to talk to Mick to find out what happened.
Mick told Dave he was never inside the trailer. He told Dave he was walking through the park because he was on a job. He has a truck with a giant vacuum that he drives around to trailer parks sucking out shit and piss from toilet vaults when they get too full. I don't know what he does with the shit after. He told Dave he was vacuuming the toilets in our park. He walked by my trailer and said hello. That was all he did. Shit. Mick's chicken shit and a liar.
Then he said he saw my boy Jesse stagger into the trailer like he was drunk. Jesse wasn't even home that night. Okay, I don't really know where Jesse was. He said he was hanging out with friends and wouldn't be home till morning. That's why I told Mick to come over. Jesus, I never knew all this time Mick is chicken shit and a liar. I thought he was just married.
When Dave came back from Mick's, everyone in the park said, yeah, Mick was there around supper time sucking out the shit. He was. But he stayed after. With me. And drank all my beer. And burned up my trailer.
Dave came to see Jesse. The kid is only 16. He's a good kid, not violent or careless or anything. But he's a dumb teenager, giving you lip all the time. Anyway, he wasn't even home when it happened.
When Dave asked Jesse where he was the night of the fire, Jesse said,
"No where." That stupid kid.
"Were you home?"
"No."
"Were you drinking?"
"Maybe."
"Who were you with?"
"No one."
"You were with your friends," I jumped in. "Tell him who you were with."
"None of your business, mom."
"Jesse, where were you last night? Tell us who you were with." I said.
"Get off my back. None of your business, okay?"
"Jesse," said Dave, "Mick said you were inside the trailer and it was you who burned it down."
"What?" said Jesse, "Why'd Mick say that?"
"He said he saw you going into the trailer drunk."
"I wasn't here. Even my mom says so."
"So where were you? Do you have witnesses who can vouch for where you were instead? Because we have a witness who says you were in the trailer."
"I wasn't here. None of your goddam business where I was."
"Watch your language, young man."
So we went on like that. Dave and me kept asking where he was, who he was with, Jesse kept say, no where, no one, none of your business. Finally, Dave said,
"Well, Jesse, I have to confer with the police. I'd stay put if I were you."
The next day, the police came, badgered Jesse some more, and ignored me completely. I screamed at them to leave Jesse alone. They said he's no longer a minor so I can't talk for him no more. I heard them mention Ogden and Rod Smith. Ogden? The Ogden who lives in town and got in trouble for nabbing some kid in the street? They weren't sure if he was trying to sell the kid drugs or he was molesting him. But the kid wasn't hurt and Ogden wasn't put in jail. Jesse doesn't do that kind of stuff. I'm sure Jesse doesn't even know him. Don't know who Rod Smith is. I don't know why Jesse wouldn't just tell everyone where he was. That'd clear things up. He's not the kind of kid up to no good. And why's Mick blaming Jesse, for christ sake? He knew Jesse wasn't home. Damn that Mick.
The cops finally left because Jesse wouldn't talk. Said he had nothing to say. The cops said they'd be back, in a mean way, just to make us feel threatened.
Mick didn't come around the next few days. Not to make sure I was okay or anything. Not to help me out now that I got nothing. But the neighbours at least gave me and Jesse stuff from their trailers. Some of them even have homes in houses they go to during the week. On the weekend, these folks brought stuff from their houses to give me. Real nice of them, to be so thoughtful.
Out of this mess, I got a tent from the Miller couple. I wish it was in better condition though, like newer. And I don't like the colour too much. But it's better than nothing. Travis and Daisy gave us their old sleeping bags. Sam and Jack and their mom gave us some old blankets and some pots and pans. Some people I never knew lived in the park gave us food. I got some clothes too, even though they're not really my style. God, it's so nice of everyone to help us. They should, right? Cause my home burned down.
After we settled in the tent, Jesse and I went into town to get buy stuff we didn't get from the neighbours, like clothes for Jesse. Old Mr. MIller gave us a ride and promised to bring us back too. Nice man. He offered me some money too. But I said no. I didn't need it. I still have money coming into the bank on account of Mitch being in Iraq.
"Ah, you're just having a bad streak, Mindy." said Mr. Miller. "Your husband is away and your trailer burned down. But you're a good mother. Honest too." Mr. Miller is a kind man.
Wittle Lake is not a big place. The town sign says the populations is 2,500. Most of us probably live in the park. It feels like that anyway. You can get everything you need to live in the park from Wittle Lake's downtown. There is a church, a liquor store, a supermarket, a convenience store, a fire station, a police station, a post office, a hardware store, two banks, two clothes stores, several gifts and odds and sods shops, a few trailer and tent stores, more than a few car repairs and like 20 camping and sporting goods stores. That's whack of stores for our little town. But we get a lot of tourists year round. Some of them even come into the park to stay for a week or two. Some come every summer. Some are there only on weekends. But a lot of us live there all year long. The park is like our own little town within a town.
It's nice in the downtown though. Everyone acts friendly. You run into a lot of people you know from the park. Some people you don't know, but you see them around. Even though you never talk to them in the park, you still say hi to them in town.
Mr. Miller dropped me off in front of the hardware store. I bought some plates and cutlery. Jesse was already bored. Then he said,
"Hey, there's Mick."
Sure enough, across the street, there was Mick, standing beside his car and smoking. We ran across the street to him.
"Hey, Mick. What's the big idea?" I said to him.
"Whoa, don't talk to me. Don't talk so loud either. Just shush, will ya." he said.
"Mick, why'd you go blaming me for the fire?" said Jesse.
"Ah c'mon you punk. I got my job and my wife to think about," he said in a low voice.
"Well, what about us?" I said.
"What about you? You got your husband."
"You lied," said Jesse, "and got me in trouble."
Shannon, the park's queen monger of gossip, and some of her monger-in-waiting friends passed by at that moment.
"Hey, Mindy, sorry to hear about your trailer," she sang. "Hi Mick, how's it going?"
Mick straightened up, sticking out his gut. "Hi Shannon," he said, then turning to us, he said in a loud officious voice,
"Well, wasn't that you I saw? I told them what I thought I saw. It looked like you. If that wasn't you, you tell them that."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" shouted Jesse.
"Don't get me involved. I was only passing by your trailer. If that wasn't you I saw going in the trailer, you tell 'em that then."
The bastard! He was lying to my face, right there in the street, in broad daylight. I have to ditch him.
"For god sake, Mick. You were inside, drunk. You burned my trailer and I saved you," I said.
"No, 'mam, I don't go inside people's private properties," Mick said in an indignant tone.
"Fuck you. You don't know what shit you brought on us by burning up my trailer. We're homeless now," I said.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mindy, I really am. But I can't help you." Then he got into his car and drove away fast, almost running over Jesse's toe. Damn him. Shannon and her friends tittered away.
I was crushed. How could a man lie like that? Did the last six months mean nothing to him. We were just good time drink and fuck buddies? He's a no good, spineless, fat-gut liar. Don't know what I ever saw in him. It's just me and Jesse now. And Mitch. Poor Mitch.
The fire marshall came to our trailer park the next day. His name was Dave Dungerall. He was a real cutie. Handsome, decent looking, looks you straight in the eye, hot-to-trot like. He was all worried about other trailers catching on fire too. Well none of them had Mick inside getting drunk and putting fire to it. He also said they need to do an investigation for insurance purposes. What insurance? My trailer wasn't insured. I'm not expecting money from anyone. I told this Dave guy Mick was inside the trailer when it caught on fire. So Dave went to talk to Mick to find out what happened.
Mick told Dave he was never inside the trailer. He told Dave he was walking through the park because he was on a job. He has a truck with a giant vacuum that he drives around to trailer parks sucking out shit and piss from toilet vaults when they get too full. I don't know what he does with the shit after. He told Dave he was vacuuming the toilets in our park. He walked by my trailer and said hello. That was all he did. Shit. Mick's chicken shit and a liar.
Then he said he saw my boy Jesse stagger into the trailer like he was drunk. Jesse wasn't even home that night. Okay, I don't really know where Jesse was. He said he was hanging out with friends and wouldn't be home till morning. That's why I told Mick to come over. Jesus, I never knew all this time Mick is chicken shit and a liar. I thought he was just married.
When Dave came back from Mick's, everyone in the park said, yeah, Mick was there around supper time sucking out the shit. He was. But he stayed after. With me. And drank all my beer. And burned up my trailer.
Dave came to see Jesse. The kid is only 16. He's a good kid, not violent or careless or anything. But he's a dumb teenager, giving you lip all the time. Anyway, he wasn't even home when it happened.
When Dave asked Jesse where he was the night of the fire, Jesse said,
"No where." That stupid kid.
"Were you home?"
"No."
"Were you drinking?"
"Maybe."
"Who were you with?"
"No one."
"You were with your friends," I jumped in. "Tell him who you were with."
"None of your business, mom."
"Jesse, where were you last night? Tell us who you were with." I said.
"Get off my back. None of your business, okay?"
"Jesse," said Dave, "Mick said you were inside the trailer and it was you who burned it down."
"What?" said Jesse, "Why'd Mick say that?"
"He said he saw you going into the trailer drunk."
"I wasn't here. Even my mom says so."
"So where were you? Do you have witnesses who can vouch for where you were instead? Because we have a witness who says you were in the trailer."
"I wasn't here. None of your goddam business where I was."
"Watch your language, young man."
So we went on like that. Dave and me kept asking where he was, who he was with, Jesse kept say, no where, no one, none of your business. Finally, Dave said,
"Well, Jesse, I have to confer with the police. I'd stay put if I were you."
The next day, the police came, badgered Jesse some more, and ignored me completely. I screamed at them to leave Jesse alone. They said he's no longer a minor so I can't talk for him no more. I heard them mention Ogden and Rod Smith. Ogden? The Ogden who lives in town and got in trouble for nabbing some kid in the street? They weren't sure if he was trying to sell the kid drugs or he was molesting him. But the kid wasn't hurt and Ogden wasn't put in jail. Jesse doesn't do that kind of stuff. I'm sure Jesse doesn't even know him. Don't know who Rod Smith is. I don't know why Jesse wouldn't just tell everyone where he was. That'd clear things up. He's not the kind of kid up to no good. And why's Mick blaming Jesse, for christ sake? He knew Jesse wasn't home. Damn that Mick.
The cops finally left because Jesse wouldn't talk. Said he had nothing to say. The cops said they'd be back, in a mean way, just to make us feel threatened.
Mick didn't come around the next few days. Not to make sure I was okay or anything. Not to help me out now that I got nothing. But the neighbours at least gave me and Jesse stuff from their trailers. Some of them even have homes in houses they go to during the week. On the weekend, these folks brought stuff from their houses to give me. Real nice of them, to be so thoughtful.
Out of this mess, I got a tent from the Miller couple. I wish it was in better condition though, like newer. And I don't like the colour too much. But it's better than nothing. Travis and Daisy gave us their old sleeping bags. Sam and Jack and their mom gave us some old blankets and some pots and pans. Some people I never knew lived in the park gave us food. I got some clothes too, even though they're not really my style. God, it's so nice of everyone to help us. They should, right? Cause my home burned down.
After we settled in the tent, Jesse and I went into town to get buy stuff we didn't get from the neighbours, like clothes for Jesse. Old Mr. MIller gave us a ride and promised to bring us back too. Nice man. He offered me some money too. But I said no. I didn't need it. I still have money coming into the bank on account of Mitch being in Iraq.
"Ah, you're just having a bad streak, Mindy." said Mr. Miller. "Your husband is away and your trailer burned down. But you're a good mother. Honest too." Mr. Miller is a kind man.
Wittle Lake is not a big place. The town sign says the populations is 2,500. Most of us probably live in the park. It feels like that anyway. You can get everything you need to live in the park from Wittle Lake's downtown. There is a church, a liquor store, a supermarket, a convenience store, a fire station, a police station, a post office, a hardware store, two banks, two clothes stores, several gifts and odds and sods shops, a few trailer and tent stores, more than a few car repairs and like 20 camping and sporting goods stores. That's whack of stores for our little town. But we get a lot of tourists year round. Some of them even come into the park to stay for a week or two. Some come every summer. Some are there only on weekends. But a lot of us live there all year long. The park is like our own little town within a town.
It's nice in the downtown though. Everyone acts friendly. You run into a lot of people you know from the park. Some people you don't know, but you see them around. Even though you never talk to them in the park, you still say hi to them in town.
Mr. Miller dropped me off in front of the hardware store. I bought some plates and cutlery. Jesse was already bored. Then he said,
"Hey, there's Mick."
Sure enough, across the street, there was Mick, standing beside his car and smoking. We ran across the street to him.
"Hey, Mick. What's the big idea?" I said to him.
"Whoa, don't talk to me. Don't talk so loud either. Just shush, will ya." he said.
"Mick, why'd you go blaming me for the fire?" said Jesse.
"Ah c'mon you punk. I got my job and my wife to think about," he said in a low voice.
"Well, what about us?" I said.
"What about you? You got your husband."
"You lied," said Jesse, "and got me in trouble."
Shannon, the park's queen monger of gossip, and some of her monger-in-waiting friends passed by at that moment.
"Hey, Mindy, sorry to hear about your trailer," she sang. "Hi Mick, how's it going?"
Mick straightened up, sticking out his gut. "Hi Shannon," he said, then turning to us, he said in a loud officious voice,
"Well, wasn't that you I saw? I told them what I thought I saw. It looked like you. If that wasn't you, you tell them that."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" shouted Jesse.
"Don't get me involved. I was only passing by your trailer. If that wasn't you I saw going in the trailer, you tell 'em that then."
The bastard! He was lying to my face, right there in the street, in broad daylight. I have to ditch him.
"For god sake, Mick. You were inside, drunk. You burned my trailer and I saved you," I said.
"No, 'mam, I don't go inside people's private properties," Mick said in an indignant tone.
"Fuck you. You don't know what shit you brought on us by burning up my trailer. We're homeless now," I said.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mindy, I really am. But I can't help you." Then he got into his car and drove away fast, almost running over Jesse's toe. Damn him. Shannon and her friends tittered away.
I was crushed. How could a man lie like that? Did the last six months mean nothing to him. We were just good time drink and fuck buddies? He's a no good, spineless, fat-gut liar. Don't know what I ever saw in him. It's just me and Jesse now. And Mitch. Poor Mitch.
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