“You should have kept the bigger table, Theresa.”

   You should have worked things out with Jason.

   “That one wasn’t mine. It was his before we got married.”

   “You should have bought a new table for yourself, then. A bigger table.”

   “My new apartment’s too small for a bigger table.”

   “Then you need a bigger apartment.”

   “Just so I can have a bigger table?”

   It was weak but it was the last word and that, at least, was something. Because that’s when Dave said, “Ready to go, Tess?”

   You’re goddamn right I am. “Uh, yeah. Let me just go say goodbye to Kim.”

   She was in the living room, sitting on the rocking chair. She was a beautiful woman, even though she was puffy with pregnancy weight. Black hair, olive complexion and eyes that always reminded me of old fashioned photographs…

   She stretched noisily and grimaced. “Everything packed?”

   “Yep. Back hurting again?”

   “Not again. Still.”

   “Only nine more days.”

   She groaned, struggled to her feet and looked at me silently for a few moments. I knew what she was thinking. She said it anyway.

   “Dave’s worried about you moving so far away.”

   “He shouldn’t be. I’m thirty-four, for Christ’s sake.”

   “I know, but…just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

   I nodded and let her give me a hug, even though I hated being hugged. When I turned around my dad was there. I didn’t have to worry about having to endure a hug from him. He was the very personification of New England Reticence. Even so, I could see that he--like Dave--was Worried About Me. He waited until Kim, recognizing her cue, left the room before he said, “How are you for money?”

   “I’m all set.” I wasn’t, of course, and Dad knew it. Jason and I had spent more than thirteen years together with nothing tangible to show for it. No kids or pets. No real estate or anything of actual value. All we’d had, really, was our joint savings account; several thousand dollars that we’d saved towards a down payment on a house. No house in particular. Just, Someday We’ll Buy A House. Because there’s always Someday. Except that, of course, there wasn’t.

   Instead there were lawyers and papers to be signed. Things to be divided. A savings account to be split. And that’s where things got tricky. Because I wouldn’t take a penny of it, even though I had contributed nearly half. My lawyer could never understand why. It had puzzled even Jason, who sent me frequent messages--through the lawyers--that I should quit being so stubborn and take the damn money. But I was firm. I didn’t want money. I only wanted what was mine. Not his. Not ours. Mine.

   “Tess--”

   “No, really. I’ve been living with Dave rent-free for five months. He wouldn’t even let me give him anything for food or--”

   “I still want to help.”

   “I appreciate it.” I said it, even though I really didn’t. “But…I’m all set.”

   He said nothing, just stared at me with tired, pale green eyes. They were the only things he’d ever been stingy with, letting my brother and me inherit Blue from our mother. Well, he’d been stingy with his affection, too. But he was still a good man. And you can’t have it all.

   “Dad, I need to go.”

   He nodded his goodbye. And I nodded right back.

   I pulled out of the driveway, smiled as I saw my mother shrinking in the rearview mirror. We had to pass by Hillside Café on our way to the interstate and I noticed, with sudden longing, that the sign outside was lit up. I couldn’t stop, though. Even if there was no Coach to worry about, there was a Dave right behind me.

   Once we hit the interstate I divided the time pretty evenly between glancing at the road and watching the miles tick by on my tripometer. At mile thirty-one, exactly halfway between Brookfield and New Mills, I pulled into the passing lane to let a string of cars merge into traffic. They were coming from Westville, population eighteen thousand; the closest thing to a city this part of the state had. Its highlights included a Walmart, a McDonalds, a bar, a hospital and a State Police station. Everything an area swarming with Displaced Workers could possibly need.

   Another thirty-one miles and we were there. I pulled in beside Brian’s truck and Dave backed up close to the porch steps. He met me near the tailgate and we untied the tarp. Then he nodded towards the clunker.

   “You didn’t tell me this guy’s in construction.”

   I coiled the four short pieces of yellow nylon rope around my hand, tied them tightly together and tossed the wad at Dave. “I told you he’s about as tall as you and wouldn’t have a problem helping you carry my shit up the stairs. What else did you need to know?”

   The first question people insist on asking a new acquaintance is: What do you do for a living? I hated that. Insecurity, probably, because I’m not a lawyer or a doctor or any of those other professions that make people say, ‘Oh...’ in that reverent, awestruck way. And anyone unlucky enough to ask me that fatal question without preceding it with at least two others--for example, what books have you read lately or who’s your favorite ballplayer--was answered with:

   ‘I’m a lumberjack.’

   Because any person with a greater interest in what it is I do to earn enough money to afford rent and music and beer and food and jeans--rather than in the fact that I think Bill Lee is the coolest guy ever to climb onto the pitchers mound--deserves to think I spend my days in the woods cutting down trees.

   The porch door slammed shut and the man in question trotted over, zipping up a red hooded sweatshirt. He gave Dave’s truck a quick once over. “That's all you've got?”

   “Hello to you, too.”

   He grinned. “Why, hello, Tess. I sure hope you had a nice drive down.”

   “Oh yes. It was lovely.”

   “So...that’s all you’ve got?”

   “Yep.”

   Dave cleared his throat. I made the introductions and held my breath. He reached for Brian’s outstretched hand, gave him a long, hard stare then fixed me with one. The look on his face was identical to the time when, at the age of twelve, he solved his Rubik’s Cube half an hour after he brought it home from the store. I gave him a sideways kick and said, as sweetly as I could, “Dave’s a lawyer.”

   Brian raised his eyebrows, awestruck, and said, his voice appropriately reverent, “Oh.”

   “So, Brian. Do you own this place?” Dave was in full Big Brother Protector mode and I did my best not to laugh at the image that was probably haunting him.

   Brian saw it too. “I...uh...no. No I don’t. I just rent the bottom...the downstairs. The apartment downstairs.”

   Dave gave him a grim nod, then turned to open the tailgate. They had, maybe, a half hour’s work ahead of them. With Dave in his present mood I decided it would be kind to throw Brian a lifeline. I got his attention and mouthed, Fishing. Did my best cast-a-rod impression, in case he misread my lips. He nodded, grateful. I grabbed my bucket of cleaning supplies from my trunk and made my escape upstairs.

   They made three trips up and down before Brian noticed what I was doing. Told me all about the recently departed Cathy Arsenault. Charlie had hired her a week before she died and she’d cleaned the whole place. Kitchen, bathroom, floors...everything is spic and span, Tess. Nothing to worry about.

   That interested my brother.

   “She died?”

   “Yeah,” Brian said. “Last week. A couple of teenagers broke into her house. She was home sick with a stomach flu and when they found her home they freaked out and...uh, killed her.”

   I wrung the dirty water out of my rag and prepared myself for the onslaught.

   “You moved to a town where they’re killing cleaning ladies?”

   “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. A cleaning lady. It’s not like there’s a Clorox Serial Killer roaming the streets of New Mills.”

   Brian laughed. “You’re a cleaning lady?”

   “Shut up.”

   “No...I just mean...is that why you moved here? Because you heard about Cathy?”

   I shrugged. “We all gotta eat.”

   “Yep. That’s true enough.”

   Dave was ready to get us back on topic. “They broke into her house and killed her?”

   Brian nodded.

   Brutal slaying. How had she died? The newspaper hadn’t said. Had those kids shot her? Beaten her to death? Stabbed her? Did she live long enough to know what was happening to her? Already miserable from a stomach flu that was bad enough to keep her home from work. Lying on the couch, watching The Price is Right. Then…the door bursts open. Or the window breaks. Then there’s fear. Pain. Calling for help; her husband, her mother, calling for anyone. What about her family? Had her kids discovered her body? Get off the school bus, run to the front door. Expecting hot chocolate and a how was your day and some help with homework. And there she is. Dead. Brutally murdered in their own home.

   Is that the last thought that floated in front of her before she died? Please, God, don’t let my kids find me like this…

   I looked up at Dave. He was glaring at me. I hated that. Then he looked at Brian.

   “They were on drugs. Right?”

   Brian nodded again. “They tried Cathy’s house because her husband died of cancer a month or so ago, and they figured she’d have some Oxycontin left over.”

   “You moved into a town where there’s a drug problem.”

   “‘A rampant teenage drug problem,’” I quoted.

   He glared even harder. We are not amused.

   “Dave, please point me in the direction of any town where there isn’t a drug problem. I’ll be very happy to settle there instead. Besides, New Mills is a pretty small town. How bad can it possibly be?”

   I looked over at Brian for support and saw something else instead. The truth. It was pretty bad. He tried to come to the rescue anyway.

   “Those kids leave us alone over here. They’re usually too busy breaking into the camps on the lake looking for stuff they can sell.”

   I chuckled. “Well, at least that’s something I don’t have to worry about.”

   Dave said nothing to that, because what can you say? He just shook his head and went back downstairs, with Brian on his heels. By the time they were done unloading the rest of my stuff the kitchen was clean. And Dave was ready to leave. I knew why, even though he didn’t say it. Even though I’d spent the morning trying not to think about it.

   Jason.

   He was at the house waiting for Dave to get back. Or on his way there. Because they had repair work to do, the kind they couldn’t do during the winter when they’d really needed to. Not with Tess the Pest hanging around. So I smiled and thanked him for the help. Then I paused. The great debate. Because what I wanted to say next was:

   Make sure you ask him why he didn’t come to court. Didn’t even show up. Couldn’t spare a goddamn half hour from his busy fucking schedule. He’s the one who ended it. And he couldn’t even show his face. Couldn’t see the thing through to the end.

   But there are some things you just can’t say. Not to your brother and not to anyone. And so I was stuck with:

   “Don’t forget to call me when Kim goes into labor.”

   He gave me a half hearted smile and said he wouldn’t forget to call. Thanked Brian for the help. Then he lingered at the door. Finally looked me in the eye and I saw what Kim had warned me about. Worry. More than that. He was nearly frantic. I could almost feel it coming off of him. But he said only, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

   But I couldn’t say that, either. He’d already told me not to leave so hastily. There’s no rush, Tess. Stay as long as you need. And I knew that he’d really meant, Stay here with us, where you’re safe. Or at least stay close by. Where I can watch you. Where I can keep you from messing up your life. Because he knew, of course, that I probably would. But I’d said, Nope, it’s time to leave now. And it was, really. He’d protected me from myself for five long months. He looked it, too. He and Kim needed their home back. Their life back. So, here I was.

   “I’m fine.”

   I wasn’t, of course, and he knew it. He looked over at Brian again and then back at me, because he knew something else. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. So he said, “Well, I’ll see you later.” Then he closed the door before I could say goodbye.

   And so I was alone. For real.

   Well, not really. Not yet.

   I turned towards Brian but couldn’t look him in the eye. Not right away. Because I knew what he’d see in mine, and I knew that it was pathetic. Knew that I was pathetic. I took a deep cleansing breath, like the kind I’d been practicing with Kim, and it worked. I looked up at him and managed a smile. He smiled back and said:

   “First baby?”

   “Yeah. First grandchild in the family, too.”

   “You guys must be excited, then.”

   I only shrugged.

   Silence. But he still didn’t leave. And that meant it was my turn to make a contribution.

   “Sorry about the way he acted when we first got here. He can be a Neanderthal sometimes.”

   “I’ve got a sister, so I know where he’s coming from.”

   More silence. He looked at the boxes littering the floor.

   “Want some help unpacking?”

   “No, I’m all set.”

   “You’re sure?”

   “Yep. Not much here, really.”

   There wasn’t, really, and I couldn’t let this guy rummage through my coffee mugs and underwear. But I didn’t want him to leave. Didn’t want to be alone. So I let my gaze fall on my stereo and speakers. The television. The cheap, unassembled pressboard entertainment center I’d bought only days before, still in the box. Then I looked back at him. Because I knew already.

   Mr. Fix It.

   He smiled, took off his sweatshirt and went to work. I left him to it and started on the kitchen boxes. But before I was halfway through my precious collection of coffee mugs, I heard him laughing. I turned around to see why. He was looking inside a plastic shopping bag. Inside it were the wires to all the electronic gizmos. Each of them was neatly coiled, held together with a little bread bag twist tie. I always saved those things because you never know when one might come in handy.

   “Why is that funny?”

   “Oh, it’s not. It’s not funny at all.”

   “Shut up.”

   He didn’t, of course. He talked while he worked. A lot. About skyrocketing property values and how unfair it was that people whose families had lived in New Mills for generations couldn’t afford to buy a decent home. About a television show he’d seen recently about paparazzi photographers who stalked celebrities and how there oughtta be a law against that sort of thing. But he seemed most upset about an article he’d read in the paper the day before about campaign contributions and he wondered what had happened to the principles of having a government that was of the people, by the people, and for the people rather than of, by and for big corporations.

   I nodded a lot and made very intelligent replies like yeah and uh huh and nope while I unpacked my dishes. Finally he said, “Well, I’m all done here. Bring me a CD and I’ll adjust the sound levels for you.”

   My music collection didn’t impress him.

   “Everything in here is at least twenty years old.”

   “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

   “That’s because it is.”

   I shoved Neil Young at him.

   “Uh…no.” He looked through the box again and settled, without any real enthusiasm, on Bob Dylan. Once the music started he busied himself, pushing buttons and adjusting levers. “Does that sound better?”

   It didn’t sound any different to me than it had before he’d made the adjustments, but I nodded anyway and said, “Sounds great.”

   He shrugged. “You can’t do much to it with this kind of music. You’re gonna need something with lots of bass and a beat to really do the job.”

   I had never listened to anything with lots of bass and a beat. I didn’t need to start now.

   “You can’t really dance to this, either.”

   “I can’t dance, so it’s just as well.”

   He smiled. “I bet you can and you just don’t know it.”

   I stared at him. At his eyes. They were fucking gorgeous, but it’s not why I stared. There was something there again, a Something that scared the shit out of me. The words, of course, were an invitation. I knew that. I’d been waiting for it. It just wasn’t the invitation I’d been expecting. Because his eyes didn’t say why don’t you just forget about these boxes for awhile so we can fuck all afternoon. Not that dance. They said Something Else.

   The other dance.

   I looked away, because I knew what it was my eyes were saying. Then I forced my mouth to say, “I’d better go unpack the bathroom.”

   He wasn’t deterred. “Are you hungry?”

   “Nope.”

   “Liar. I’m meeting some friends for lunch in a few minutes. You should come with me.”

   “I’ll eat later. I’ve got too much to do right now.”

   He nodded. Looked around the room. “Maybe. But I don’t think any of those boxes have any food in them. Are you planning on eating packing peanuts or what?”

   “I’ll run into the market in a little while.”

   “Great. You can do it after we eat.”

   I really was starved. What was left of the coffee and toast I’d eaten for breakfast wouldn’t be enough to keep me going long enough to finish unpacking. But.

   That dance?

   I looked at him again and sighed. Food. Meet new people. Groceries. I did need all of those things. And so I followed him into town.

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Table of Contents

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