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.