Jack (Chapter 10)

We reached the road and walked a little further to a dirt driveway.  I think this was the point where we started running yesterday to get out of the storm.

“This way mister.”  I follow Chaos down another dirt trail.  It takes a few turns and ends up in front of a log cabin.  This is quite an assortment of buildings on this little tract of land.  I prepare myself for whatever may face me behind those wooden doors.  There are chickens everywhere and I can see the edges of some pens in the back where they must keep the pigs. I begin to wonder if these are relatives of my breakfast.  I’ve heard that chickens are stupid creatures and I am getting full experience of that.  I knew within five minutes of being with Chaos that the best place to be was next to and a little behind him.  These chickens have obviously learned nothing because they get right in his path and act surprised when he pushes them out of the way, kicking and swinging a stick.  He doesn’t actually hit any of them, just gets them out of the way.

A voice comes from the house, “Chaos, will you please not scare those chickens?”  I’m sure this question gets asked at least once every day. 

“Mamma, they’re gettin’ in the way and I brought a friend wit’ me.”

“Chaos, who on earth…”  She trails off when she sees me.  Mrs. Perry is a beautiful woman no more than forty-five.  She has bright eyes which I’m sure remain so even through tears.  She is slender but strong.  Her face is smooth and kind.  She could kill one of those chickens with her bare hands but bless it on the way out.  And the chicken would be grateful for such a pleasant death at the hands of such a woman.  She has come out of the house with a basket full of clothes under one arm.  She reaches us and extends her free hand to me.

“Hi my name is Harmony.”  Her voice is definitely a harmony.  Beautiful and soft when void of scolding.  “I apologize for that reception.  You must be one of the visitors from the road.  I look a mess too.  Chaos, you’re five minutes late.”

“What’d I tell you? Always within ten minutes.”  He is proud of his stomach and it’s accuracy for telling time.

“Go get cleaned up; you’re filthy.”  She turns back to me.  “I apologize for him too.  He tends to be overwhelming; he’s really a good kid though.  I’m sorry I haven’t caught your name yet.”

“It’s Jack.”  I’m finally able to grab her hand.  She has a firm shake and I am now confident about the chicken killing thing.  “Chaos is fine.  He showed me my first alligator.”

“He loves those ‘gators, sometimes I’m afraid he gets too close though.  I suppose he is in God’s hands ultimately.  He is a blessed boy.”  I can’t help but smile at this.  “Well, it is dinnertime, I mean lunch.  You must join us.  Although I’m afraid we just have sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches are fine.  I’m told gator jerky sandwiches are the best.”

She smiles knowing full well that I did not come up with that on my own.  “I suppose a guest would be a good reason to pull that out.  But if for whatever reason our gator jerky is unsatisfactory we do have peanut butter and jelly.”  She winks.

I follow her down the remainder of the dirt path to the log cabin.  The chickens scatter as we walk.  The whole house smells of animal with the attempt of flowers to mask some of it.  They don’t succeed very well.  The decorations in the house are minimal but elegant, much like the mistress of the house.  I like it.

Inside, there were two boys older than Chaos setting the table for lunch and a girl younger than Chaos was already sitting at the table.  Their mother introduces them as Noah, John and Charity.  Noah and John are telling their mom how Chaos has broken some little trinket and Charity is singing a little song about the river.  The house is loud and active.  I hope this means I won’t be interrogated too much.  Noah grabs another place setting for me. 

“Momma, dad said that he and Matthew were gonna eat over at Jory and Max’s once they got the van there.”

“That’s fine.  Where is the gator jerky?  I swear I lose everything.”

Charity looks at me and whispers with a grin, “She doesn’t lose it; the boys move stuff around just to make her think she’s goin’ crazy.”  She’s proud of the fact that she knows a secret, especially one entrusted to her by her brothers.  I can tell that she is tough.  She has to be with four older brothers and who knows there could be more.  They seem to keep growing in number. 

Charity is a little fox with big doe eyes.  She is already well aware of her wiles as a girl and as the baby of the family.  She must be six or so.  Her dirty blonde hair is messy and knotted, but not so much in a dirty little girl way but in a Hollywood-I’m-not-trying-too-hard kind of way.  Her fingers and hands resemble her mother’s and she will be just as beautiful if not more so.  She keeps singing soft melodies to herself and I try to listen to the words.  Most of them are unintelligible.  She sings of things that don’t exist and rhymes by making up words.  Chaos is the obvious trouble-maker; Charity is the criminal mastermind.  Her creativity will either make her or destroy her.  I wish I could meet her again in twenty years, just to see how she happens to develop her skills.  I can’t determine, however, whether I’m hoping that they will be for good or evil.  Both would be quite entertaining.  The tragedy would be if she didn’t use them at all.

Chaos storms back into the house, knocking over a chair and bumping a table on the way.  These don’t faze him at all.  He sits next to me and is talking about the pig in the back to no one in particular.  Noah and John finally sit down and they are discussing the chores that they will have to do to finish the day.  Their mother chimes in every so often to remind them of other items they may be forgetting.  Every time she does they roll their eyes as if they have heard these exact same words every day since they were born.  She knows this and chooses to ignore it.

Finally everyone is seated.  I’m between the two youngest and both are quite proud to have me as their new friend.  They say a blessing for the food.  We hold hands and the two little hands I’m holding are very different.  Chaos’ are constantly moving and Charity’s remain calm and strong in my large hands.  She is not scared of me, not even slightly intimidated, and this intimidates me. 

As soon as they are finished Charity begins speaking in what I believe is French. 

“Charity, dear, we don’t have to speak in French today, we do have a guest.  I apologize, Jack, we normally use meal time to practice our languages.”

“Yeah, we have French on Monday, Wednesday and Friday ‘cuz Mamma’s French.  Then on Tuesday and Thursday we practice Russian ‘cuz Pappa used to teach it.  That’s how Mamma and Pappa met.”  Chaos has taken off into a monologue again, but his mother cuts him short.

“Chaos, honey.”

“Sorry, Mamma.”

“Chaos is correct.  Louis was working towards his PhD in Russia, learning Russian.  I was there studying Russian architecture.  We met at one of the museums and spent the rest of our time together instead of studying.  Louis did end up completing his PhD back in the US which is where he is from.  I dropped to marry him and move to the states.  We want our children to be well-educated and informed about the world, so we have language sessions at meal times.  And we have other classes and lessons throughout the day.  Fridays are usually our day off, hence why Chaos was out and about.”  Her speech is apologetic and trying to convince me that they are not some sort of weird homeschooled family.  I wonder what would make two well-educated people retire here so early.  Harmony gives me a knowing look but she will not tell me while her children are around.  The whole family appears content to remain here.  Things get quiet for a half a second and I’m uncomfortable with it because there has not been a silent moment since I arrived, so I speak.

“You mentioned Matthew earlier, is he one of your brothers?”

Noah, the oldest at this table, replies with a nod of permission by his mother, “Matthew is the oldest boy.  He’s sixteen.  We have two older sisters as well.  And that’s all of us.”  Noah is stern and serious.  He speaks well and with purpose.  He is tall and thin, just hitting manhood in his body but already achieved in his head and attitude. 

The mother takes over again, “Max is our oldest daughter.  She lives across the road with her husband.  Carolyn left here about three years ago.”  She stops with a tear in her eye.  Carolyn must have been of the rebellious nature and I imagine that she was very much like Charity.  I wonder what the circumstances are which made her leave, but I’m tactful enough not to ask.  So there are seven children total.  Wow.  I can’t imagine what that would be like and I hope I don’t have to.  At least these boys have brothers.  I wasn’t even given that in my large family.

Charity’s eyes sparkle as she looks at me, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, I have five sisters and no brothers.”

“That’s sad.  I like having brothers.”

“Charity, dear, we shouldn’t ask too many questions and let him eat.”

I look at the dried meat laying on homemade bread.  From looking at everyone else I notice that Chaos and Charity put ketchup on their sandwiches.  Harmony and John use barbecue sauce.  Noah uses honey.  I like the honey idea so I try that.  The sandwich is actually very good.  A little tough but delicious. 

“This honey is delicious.  I have never had honey like this.”

“John is our bee keeper.”

John gives a slight nod but no smile.  He is not as serious as Noah but he is still somber.  He is the most like me in that he doesn’t care to have much said to him or about him.  He likes to be still and speak as little as possible.  In spite of the fact that he is like me, I will have a hard time talking to him and figuring him out.  He watches me with suspicion, giving the same look which I am certain I have given most of the population in this countryside. 

It’s amazing how the family quieted and found manners with the saying of a prayer right before the meal.  We continue in polite conversation, nothing profound or telling.  I ask as many questions as are asked of me and there are none that I feel the need to sidestep.  I’m amazed by how comfortable they are.  Their politeness does not feel forced or fake, simply hospitable.

Jack (Chapter 9)

            Kudzu.  There are two definitions for a word I have never heard before in my life.  The first is a vine that covers every living thing it comes into contact with.  If you stand still for more than ten minutes it will cover you too.  The second is a man like I have never met before in my life.  This is strange for me because I come from Portland which is the land of the hippies and weirdos for which the world has no other habitation. 

            As we walked into the general store for the first time, I was met with pickled pigs’ feet (apparently nobody in this community eats them, but they feel the need to utilize every aspect of the animal they kill).  There must have been at least a couple of dozen jars sitting on the shelf.  It took Valerie a little longer to notice them, but when she did it was obvious.  Whether it was the gasp or the gagging noise that gave Kudzu the tip off that we were there, I will never know.

            Out walks this man in his late 60s, I guess.  Long stringy graying hair hanging down across his face and shoulders.  Sunspots and wrinkles covering every inch of skin showing under the faded tye dye shirt and overalls. 

            “Kin I he’p ya’ll wit’ sumpfin’?”  The deep raspy voice of the old hippy was unexpected.  And trying to understand the words he spoke was like trying to read a Mark Twain novel.  The smile revealed a massive loss of teeth, but surprisingly minty breath.

            Valerie was too stunned by the sight to say anything and it verged on rude.

            “We’re just looking for some essentials we might need.  It looks like we might be here visiting for a while.”  I could tell the “visiting” part made Valerie relax a little, but then the “a while” made her tense again as she squeezed my arm for comfort—hers not mine.  She quickly whispered in my ear and left the store, mumbling a good-bye to the strange yet fascinating man in front of me.  As the screen door slammed behind her I looked at the man.

            “My name is Jack.”

            “Jack.  That’s thuh name o’ my bes’ man ‘n thuh war.”  I assumed Vietnam.  He twitched as he talked, blinking on every other word and scrunching his nose. “Peepul call me Kudzu.”  He held out his hand which was surprisingly steady and not surprisingly covered in sun spots.  I shook it.  A strong hand shake for such a skinny man. 

“Ker breek duwhn?”  I knew I would have to listen carefully every time this man talked if I was going to understand him and avoid asking “what?” every time he said something.

“Yeah.  We have been on the road for a few days.  We started up in Portland and are trying to make our way to Miami.  The air traffic controllers went on strike and no one’s been flying for a few days.” 

“Oh.  Sheam, bu’ gladuh yur her’.  Pic’ uhp aneethin’ ya nee’.”  I was impressed by the over enunciation of some words and the dropped endings of other words.  They seemed to coincide with the twitchings.  I knew I would like Kudzu.

“How did you end up here?”

“Jeesus.”  A grin spread across his face in a genuine and unassuming manner.  It didn’t come out like a curse, just a fact.  It had been a long time since I had heard someone say that name when they weren’t damning something evil that had happened to them.  Kudzu continued without my asking, “ ‘e dun brook mah vee dubyah van duwhn.  I wuz hi as a freekin’ kigh-tuh.  Axtly I run it intuh a tree.  A Peerry fund me n’ took me her’.  I been her’ gwon tin yeer.  Aneethin’ ya nee’ ain’ her’ we git tit.”

“Thanks.”  I was looking around the store while he was talking and I found some nail clippers.  As much as I didn’t care about what the world might think about my nails, I hated having talons, so I picked them up.  “How much for these?”

He smiled his almost toothless grin again.  “Teek ‘em, no charjuh.” 

I tried to explain that I would like to pay for the things I will be using while I’m here.  He kept smiling and refused to take the money.  Somewhere in the conversation I believe he said that they had no need for money and that Ms. Sasha Leonard paid for it all.  Who was this lady that financed this whole little odd community of people?  Misfits that didn’t seem to fit anywhere else in the world.

I took the clippers and left.  Often when I am lost in my thoughts I find myself leaving situations and rooms to wander alone aimlessly.  Seriously, who are these people?  We’ve met a short, gymnast type girl with red hair and a smile that can cool the hottest day or warm the coldest night, two widows who garden and cook like everyday is the last and they need to have their full nourishment for their trip to heaven, and now a man who is unaware that the 1960s were half a century ago.  But they are the most generous and caring group of crazies I’d ever met, and genuine about it.  Confusion has taken over and I’m glad we’re stuck here.  These puzzle pieces must fit together to create some picture that’s absurd, yet beautiful.

“Hey ya.”  I’m yanked out of my imaginings back to the world of humidity and heat.  I look around without seeing anyone and then I look down.  It’s been quite some time since I’ve been around kids.  I’m startled by the shortness of the child.  I guess kids are supposed to be short though. 

“Hey.”

“What’s your name?  My name is Chaos.  Akshully my real name is Jacob, like in the Bible, but mamma and pappa always calls me Chaos so ever’one just started calling me chaos.  It means craziness.  I guess I am kinda crazy n’ they send me out of the house most of the time cuz they think I’m like a li’l tornado sweepin’ through the house and everywhere.  I have a tendency to tear things up and I don’ mean to.  It jus’ happens.  Sometimes it’s my brothers and sisters that do it, but I jus’ dunno why I do it, so they can get away wit’ sayin’ that I did it and mamma and pappa will usually believe ‘em.  Hey, have you ever seen a gator?”  I can at least insert a head shake into his monologue.  “Gators are awesome, but also need to be respected because they’re strong, mamma says they’re stronger than oak trees which is purty strong, because she saw one when she was a little girl actually tear down a big oak tree with its short legs and many teeth.  I dunno if I believe that, but I know they’re strong and fast.  One time one got into our pig pen and tore our biggest pig into two parts, the head was over here and the rearend was over there.  You wanna see a gator?  I just came from the river and there was one sunnin’ on t’other bank.  But don’ worry cuz tit’s only abou’ five feet long, it’d put a hurtin’ a dog but it knows a human would be too big to hurt.  They’re scared of people ‘less ya mess wit’ their babies or their friends or their food.  Other than that they purty much leave ya be.  Follow me an’ we can still see it, I’m sure.  Ya need to see a gator at least oncet, cuz they’re funny and awesome.”  I suppose I didn’t have much of a choice, so I followed.  And I thought he was right, you do need to see a gator at least once in your life.

We continued down the road, heading back in the direction from which we had come the day before.  The sky was blue and it was still only about 11:00.  Chaos picked up sticks and hit rocks in the road, kicked the rocks as well and shuffled his feet through the dirt as he continued to ramble about gators, then poison ivy – which he’s had 5 different times, then Virginia Creepers and how you can tell the difference between them.  I walked beside him in order to avoid the sticks, rocks and dirt which followed in his wake, a tornado was an accurate description.  I guessed he must have been about 8 years old, but small for his age.  He was missing a few teeth waiting for the others to grow in.  He wore camo pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, the shirt had a very faded picture of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it.  Oh the memories.  He can’t have known who they were.  Or were they still on Saturday cartoons?  Did these people even watch TV?  We continued down the road for a while. 

Eventually we took a turn to the right into the woods, with a barely identifiable path.  Chaos knew just where he was going and continued talking the entire time.  Now he was explaining how he had found this trail and that he thought that Indians must have made it originally because he had found an arrowhead on the path last year.  This kid was awesome.  He was an interesting piece of the puzzle.  I think he would be a brightly colored piece somewhere in the middle.  I could see how he would annoy most people, but since I don’t care to talk most of the time, I knew we would get along just fine.  I hate being around those kids that just stare at you.  They look at you like you’re a blemish on the face of humanity and you should really just be expunged.  And they would use words like that if they could, just to make you feel that much more inferior.  Chaos is nothing like that.

He stops in the middle of the path all of a sudden and puts his finger to his lips.  This is the first break his speech has taken. 

“We gotta be quiet now or we’ll scare the gator.  Gators are scared of people.  Shhh.” 

He keeps moving forward and the tornado calms down.  He slowly gets down on his hands and knees to push aside the palmetto branches.  I squat down beside him and peek through the branches and help him push them aside as quietly as I can.

“Ouch. Damn.”

“Shhhh.”  He gets mad at me for being loud, not for cursing.

“Sorry,” I whisper.  My fingers are bleeding a little, stupid palmettos, I didn’t know they would hurt.  But the edges are sharp.  I nurse my hand with care and Chaos rolls his eyes at my pain.  I man up and push the branch aside again, this time much more carefully.

“Over there.  See?”  His incredibly dirty and scarred (from palmettos, I guess) hands form into a point which stretches out in front of him.

I squint and try to follow his finger.  At first I don’t see anything, but then I hear a low growl.

“He’s sayin’ hi.  Hear ‘im?”

I jump back slightly when I realize that it is directly across from us, no more than 12 feet away.  From what I know of alligators, they’re fast and tenacious.  I regain my composure hoping that this little gator hunter won’t notice my cowardice.  I don’t think he does because he continues to stare enraptured by this oversized lizard who would munch on his head as an appetizer.  His finger points again, off to the right.

“Look, in the water.  See those two little rocks on top of the water?”  He whispers surprisingly well.  “That’s another one.”

Um, if that’s all that gives them away I am not going any where near this water.  I would never be able to pick one out in time to save my own life.  The one on the shore is about five feet long, so I’m definitely bigger than him, but I can’t tell about the one in the water.  Chaos turns to me as if reading my mind and says, “The distance in inches from the nose, the first bump, to the eyes, which are the second bump, is the same number of feet that the whole alligator is from nose to tail.”  Working the estimations in my mind I realize that if my little friend is correct this alligator is about eight feet long.  As soon as I realize this and that the bumps are slowly moving closer to us, I back up out of the palmettos and stand up. 

Chaos follows me.

“I think we should get out of here, little man.”

“Why? Ya scared?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  And I’m not ashamed of that.  I would prefer to not die by alligator.”

“Fine.  Back this way.”

Once we get several yards away from the hole in the woods.  Chaos continues into his normal path of, well, chaos. 

“Yeah, I call the smaller one Fred and the big one Gigantor.  I never get too close to Gigantor, he’d eat me sure.  Fred, though, I caught Fred once, but mamma said I had to let him go cuz he probably had a family somewhere and I wouldn’t want no one takin’ my daddy away from me and I figured she was right.  But we did kill that big one that one time, he was about 12 feet long.  Pappa had to shoot him about six times and he was still thrashing around for a long time after that.  It took us two weeks to repair everything.  But we ate some good gator for a few weeks, we still have some gator jerky left.  You should try some.  I love gator jerky.  I guess it’s about dinner time.  My stomach tells me when it’s time to eat and I’m always within ten minutes of meal time.  Mamma says I’m blessed.  But then again, she’s tells everyone they’re blessed.  I bet you’re blessed too.  You could come eat too.  Dinner is good.  It’s always sandwiches.  I love sandwiches.  Sometimes mamma lets me put gator jerky on my sandwich and those are my favorite kinds of sandwiches.  Maybe mamma will let you put gator jerky on your sandwich and then she might let me too.”  He looked sort of pitiful when he looked at me, pleading with his eyes for me to come so we could have gator jerky sandwiches.  I couldn’t resist and I nodded my consent while he continued talking.  At least I’d get to meet some more people.  Hopefully they’d be more into talking and less into asking questions.  I mean if they’re anything like this version in front of me I would be golden.

Jack (Chapter 8)

The light is dim.  I can't tell if it's dusk or dawn, but I feel surprisingly refreshed.  More refreshed than I have in a long time.

I smell something delicious and decide to follow the scent.

It takes me down the narrow hallway to a kitchen surrounded by windows.  There is a big island filled with various fruits and vegetables.  Beyond that there is a large dining table surrounded by chairs that don't match.

"Well, dear.  Didn't think we'd see you for several more hours.  You were out like the lights were from that storm."  The voice is coming from Lois.  Her shirt today has a happy frog wearing a bow tie and surrounded by flowers.  She looks as happy as the frog.

"So morning?"

"Mid.  Yes, dear.  You have slept for quite some time.  Didn't think it'd be proper to wake you for dinner when you were sleepin' so soundly.  Feel free to help yourself to some fruits and veggies.  I'll get you some bacon and eggs."  She stops before fully enunciating the 's' at the end of eggs.  "Oh dear, you aren't one a those that don't eat meat, are you?"

I grin out of the corner of my mouth.  "Nah.  I eat meat. And my eggs scrambled."  Admittedly, I prefer organic, but I don't really mind since I'm hungry and this food smells so delicious.

I grab an apple that is juicy than any apple I've ever eaten.  Not even halfway through, Lois slides a plate in front of my face.

"Here, dear.  Hope you like it.  I've gotta run out and start takin' care a the plants with Eunice.  You enjoy and just put your dishes in the sink when you finish.  I'll clean up later."

I knew eggs could be bad, but I didn't know they could be better than just ok. These are soft and flavorful.  Lois even added a touch of cheese. I find that I'm disappointed when the eggs are gone.  The bacon is mildly good in comparison, a little greasy.  However, judging by the stove, most food in this house is probably somewhat greasy.

My wonderful breakfast was flawless, until...

"Oh Jack.  It's so good to see you.  I didn't know if they had you locked up in a closet or something."

As usual, I don't have to look to see who is talking.  The whine with the overwhelming stench of perfume has ruined my last bite of bacon.

"Valerie."

"Can you believe this place?  I hardly slept a wink last night.  That storm was almost as frightening as this dingy old house.  I almost felt like sleeping outside would be a better option.  The house rattled every time the thunder struck.  I thought the whole thing would collapse on top of my head."

She continues and I dread that I don't have a clear way to get out of here.  I'm hoping that someone will walk through that door or I can see something through the window that will distract the conversation.  Then she says something.

"What did you just say?"

"Lois, she said we might need some stuff."

"No, that word."

"What word?"

"That word, I've never heard that word before."  This is surprising to me because I do have a large vocabulary and of all the people in the world, I'm shocked that it came from this girl.

"Oh Kudzu?  It's the name of this guy that Lois said we should go see if we need things, like toothpaste or shampoo.  Apparently he runs the only thing close to a store.  It was weird though.  She said 'store' like she was looking for a word that wasn't store, but something more like a shed with shelves.  I won't be surprised if it's infested with roaches.  Ick.  Good thing I'm packed for everything."

Sweet, my out.  "Where did she say to find Kudzu?  I could use some toothpaste and a toothbrush as a matter of fact."

"Oh yeah.  I forgot I could use some lotion.  Let's go together and see if I got the directions right."

Milk Duds.

Jack (chapter 7)

            Tillie informs us that it will probably be best to stay with two widows named Lois and Eunice who came here when their husbands, who were best friends in the Coast Guard, died in a tragic boat accident.  They inhabit the largest and most hospitable house that does not belong to Ms. Sasha Leonard.  I’m not sure who this is, but Tillie speaks of her like she is ancient and deserves every sliver of respect she is granted by this community, that gets stranger the more I hear about it.  I admit I have never spent too much time around older people, I’m afraid of the smell.  But this community becomes more intriguing the more I hear and any reservations I had are long gone, for better or worse, probably worse.

We continue walking down the relatively narrow road.  Tillie points out a small building with peeling white paint and a barely legible sign that reads “General Store.”  Do they still have those?  She mentions that it is where we can get anything we need while we are here and that it is the one place with internet, when it decides to work. 

            “But now would not be the time for that.”  As she says this just as a loud thunder clap booms and it starts to pour.  I now understand the cliché of raining cats and dogs.  Tillie starts running, bike in tow.  Valerie squeals feebly, she is too tired from dragging so much stuff to really let her true emotions show.  Mr. Peter James takes his time, mumbling under his breath about how a little rain never hurt nobody, it is actually refreshing.  I linger somewhere in the middle of a trot and a gait (not that I know anything about horses).

            The house we run to is a beautiful white monster with black shutters and a red roof.  The wraparound porch offers comfort and rest with its seven rocking chairs.  I know I am going to like whoever lives here.  It is the kind of house that you think of when trying to envision the good side of the hated South (at least as far as I know).  Tillie leaves her bike by the porch under an overhang that must have been built especially for that purpose.  She gets to the door first.  Valerie hides a little behind Tillie and I hide behind Valerie.  We begin to create puddles on the porch.  In front of the door is a Welcome mat in the shape of a lady bug.  From the short glimpse I got around the porch it looks like there are every species of plant growing around the porch, in hanging pots and window sill flower boxes.  I can’t see a duplicate anywhere (who needs symmetry?). 

            The screen door creaks.  Two ladies crowd into the doorway.  One of them is in a pepto bismal pink shirt with a linen white skirt that barely reached her ankles.  The other wears jeans with dirt stains at the knees and a t-shirt with a cat dressed in a hat and surrounded by flowers.  They light up with the view of Tillie in their doorway.  However, when the one in pink catches a glimpse of Valerie and I standing there, her eyes roll and a frown begins to take over her face.  The one with the cat shirt doesn’t even look at her before she elbows her friend in the stomach.  The cat woman never stops smiling.  Predictably, she speaks first.

            “Tillie!  Dear.  What have you brought to us this time?”  She continues without giving Tillie a chance to answer.  “Oh my dear children you are soaked and tired obviously.  Please do come in.  I wish had had a chance to clean all this up for you but I guess this is what happens when things happen.  We’re always prepared for company in any case.”  By this time the lady in pink has disappeared into a different part of the house.

            “Oh forgive me, where are my manners?  I am Lois and the other one is Eunice.  Don’t mind her she doesn’t like her routine to get disturbed, not that it ever really does.  I’m the one who takes over during these times.”

            Valerie speaks, “Do you have visitors often?”  I can tell she is really worried about this place.  She is uncertain about staying somewhere where everyone seems overly kind and definitely different.  She begins to shake a little, fortunately it could be blamed on the wetness of her clothes which Lois notices as well.  I feel that I should be more nervous than I am, but I can’t seem to muster any such feelings.

            “We’ve had a few over the years.  But poor things ya’ll must be freezin’ soaked to the bone that way.  Let me show you to your rooms and you can shower and change.  Then we’ll look at findin’ you somethin’ to eat.”  It’s amazing to me that everyone here seems to drop the final consonant of every word they said. 

            Tillie notes, above the sound of the rain, “There’s one more comin’, I’ll wait for him while you show them to their rooms.”

            Lois yells to Eunice, “Eunice, get in here and take this fine young man to the room he’ll stay in.  Little miss, you will come upstairs with me.  We’re a little old-fashioned around here, keepin’ boys and girls separated.  You just never know and Lord knows we’re responsible for the things that happen under our roof.”  Her voice trails off as she takes up the stairs and timid Valerie follows her, glancing back at me in a way that asks me to be sure not to leave without her if something happens.  I can’t guarantee her anything at this point and try to express that on my face.

            Tillie has already left to go wait on the porch for Peter.  I’m left in the foyer by myself waiting for the grim Eunice to decide to be hospitable.  I take the time to look at some of the knick knacks and pictures decorating the area.  There are a few ceramic cats scattered about.  There are a lot of pictures and replicas of lighthouses.  One of them has a verse on it about letting your light shine before men.  There is the necessary wooden cross of anyone who has a faith in the Christian God.  I bend over to look at a worn black and white picture on the second shelf of a bookcase, there are two beautiful women standing next to what would definitely have been handsome young men in uniform.  I assume it is of these ladies and their husbands.  The ladies truly were gorgeous in a way that I cannot describe because it wouldn’t serve a purpose.  I hear a throat clear behind me.  I jerk up and then to try and cover my surprise turn around coolly and slowly.  I’m met with the glare that women perfect in their lifetimes, the one that can make a guy do anything she wants just to get her to stop.

            She turns and heads down a hallway; I take that as my signal to follow.  Looking at the woman in front of me I have a hard time believing that such a beautiful woman could turn into something large, angry and calloused.  She needs a hug, but it was not going to come from me, just the thought of it makes me laugh slightly.  The throat clears again letting me know the laugh was not just in my head.  A voice follows the grunt and it sounds like Ella Fitzgerald, strong, heavy and still mesmerizingly pretty.  “I bet you’re wondering what happened to make that girl turn into this woman you see before you.  Well, life happened.  And this is what I ended up with.  I’m not angry, not sad, just sort of resigned.”  I see her eyes now and they look heavy, strong and still pretty just like her voice. 

            “I’m Jack.”     

“Well, Jack.  The next door down is the bathroom.  The towels are easy to find.  Here’s your room.  If you need anything ask Lois.  She’s much better at this than I am.”

“Doubtful,” I mumble surprising myself.  She smiles, almost.  The tension lightens a touch.  I will definitely like this house. 

The room in which I’m staying is covered in doilies and roses—not forgetting the mandatory cross hanging right over the head board.  The window is propped open with what looks like a broken broom handle.  I open my wet suitcase and am able to find a pair of dry boxers and some semi dry jeans.  This will do.  All I really want to do is lay down on the bed of printed roses, but I’m still wet and I feel that would be rather rude. 

I find my way to the bathroom.  The bathroom lacks the roses and doilies but carries over the lighthouses and boats—and the cross.  The towels are neatly rolled on a shelf above the toilet.  The rain, lightning and thunder continue outside.  I hope that the power will hold out long enough for me to take a shower.  The whole house rattles every time the thunder booms, but it is obvious that this house had been through many thunderstorms and will still see many more.

The shower is hot and refreshing.  It gives me time to think again.  So much has happened in the last few hours.  I have no idea whether we will leave tomorrow or the next day.  I still don’t even know if I will end up being killed in my sleep by the people in this…village?  I don’t even know what to call this.  There aren’t very many people here.  At least we haven’t seen very many.  I don’t know how many more houses are hidden in these woods and what kinds of people would be here.  I do feel a little bit of responsibility for Valerie although.  The look in her eyes as she went upstairs was genuine and dependent.  Man, I spent my whole life trying to avoid having people depend on me.  I just want to worry about me. 

A sharp crack and bang shakes the whole house and the lights flicker snapping me out of my thoughts. 

I get out of the shower, slip into the mostly dry clothes and wander back to the room.  Through the rain and thunder the roses look most inviting and before I know it they have become my comfort and distraction from any fear and timidity.