A Storied Man

Bernie is a poverty-stricken woman whose life takes an unexpected turn when an old friend returns to town. This is Part Ten.

Parts: 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|…

Related reading: Talk With a Killer, Wall

Part Ten

Bernie sighed, feeling frustrated and, for the first time since she had become homeless, devoid of control. Unless she wanted to risk severe injury, she was Shonda’s captive until the car stopped. Her life to that point hadn’t been ideal, but it had been hers.

If you work this right, then you won’t ever live on the streets again.

What did Shonda mean by that? What grand plan had she and her husband concocted? Was Jeff involved?

She wasn’t sure of anything, and that was what worried her. On top of everything else that had happened since she woke up that morning, it looked like it wouldn’t be Trout Day, after all. She hadn’t missed Trout Day in two years, since that time Glenda had ruined it.

She sat and wondered how crazy it would be to ask Shonda to turn the car around and drop her off at her shack on Searcy Street, or after they arrived at the Red Apple Inn, to politely thank her for the clothes, change back into her own, and walk away. Or should she have her date with Jeff and just see if it led anywhere?

The car glided along the two-lane highway, where an old familiar sight jarred Bernie into the past. Without any reason to travel that direction, and no easy way to get there, she had almost forgot about the cemetery that held her grandparents from her father’s side. Guilt washed over her as the headstones blurred past. She didn’t feel any closer to them at their graves than at their former home or on the opposite side of the world, but being there had been important to them, and not once had she gone to visit.

Bernie tried to think of nothing as they entered Eden Isle, the realm of mostly retirees who had moved there from out of state for the cheap taxes and low cost of living. It also served as home to The Red Apple Inn and its attached 18-hole golf course. Shonda slowed at the gatehouse and mumbled something to the man inside.

They turned left and headed up a forested hill. Undisturbed pine woods on the right stood in contrast to the opposite side of the road, where a break in the woods revealed a lush, finely manicured green. Golf carts flashed in and out of pine trees’ long shadows traversing the cross-cut fairway.

At the top of the hill the trees broke and Bernie saw more of the golf course on the left, the Red Apple Inn on the right.

“I wasn’t supposed to meet Jeff until seven,” Bernie said.

Shonda turned to Bernie as she pulled into the Inn’s pea gravel parking lot. “That’s okay. It’s 5:30 already. We can go to the bar and have a few drinks.”

“Is it a noisy bar? Because I won’t be able to hear you if it is.”

“No, it isn’t that kind of bar,” Shonda said. “Very laid back.”

“This is so weird,” Bernie said. “I haven’t been to the Red Apple since prom.”

Shonda guided the car into an open spot between two SUV’s. “I used to come here every Easter. After church my dad treated us and my cousins’ family to lunch. Then we all grew up and my grandmother couldn’t get comfortable at a restaurant. We just drove through Eddie’s Taco House and ate at her kitchen table.”

“That’s a switch,” Bernie said. “That was more my family’s speed.”

“Yeah, well, there were things I liked better about both. After I moved away and got married, I liked any chance I got to spend time in her house.”

Bernie thought of what would happen to her when she got older. As her body started to falter, wandering around town scrounging for survival would cease to be an option. Who would bother to bring food to her? Nobody would look forward to visiting whatever ramshackle place served as her home.

With those ideas filling her head and even darker thoughts lurking, she decided to see the evening through. She would go on her date with Jeff (is it really a date?) and hear what Shonda and Jeremy had to say. Waking up on a dirt floor started to feel a lifetime away.

Bernie at first had trouble walking, ankles wobbling as the new boots crunched the gravel.

“Those heels aren’t high, Bernie. Come on,” Shonda said.

“They’re pretty high when all you have are sneakers.”

Bernie remembered from school that the Inn was designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright. Built of large, lichen-mottled gray stones from the surrounding area and hugged by towering trees, it almost seemed to belong on the hillside. It fit Wright’s idea that a structure should be “of the hill, not on the hill.” Austere rather than ostentatious, the Inn’s design made it both notable in the field of architecture and a standout among its modern country club peers.

Or at least that’s what she remembered from class.

To Bernie, it looked like a structure at a state park. Functional, not fancy, and very attractive to native dirt dauber wasps. The perfect place to eat cold casseroles prepared by distant relatives seen once a year.

Though tables were available, they sat at the bar. Bernie was reminded of Whitaker’s soda fountain. Shonda ordered a Tom Collins, and after Bernie followed suit they caught each other up on what they had been doing since high school.

For his part, the bartender kept the drinks coming.

Shonda’s path, though much smoother than Bernie’s, sounded mind-numbingly boring. She got through most of her college education before finally giving in to Jeremy’s oft-repeated marriage proposals. Two years ahead of them in school, he already was out making good money when Shonda’s senior year started.

Bernie swallowed a big sip and held up one finger as she pulled her drink from her mouth. “Define ‘good money,’” she said.

“Don’t be one of those ‘root of all evil’ people. Earning a living is a worthy ambition. Besides, we see each other a lot. It’s not like he’s gone all the time.”

Shonda had finished college and established a successful career as a financial analyst, but recently quit her job. “I’m just not sure what I want to be when I grow up,” she said.

“So, you weren’t making ‘good money,’” said Bernie, making quotes with her fingers as she finished.

“Okay, okay. Point taken. Bartender! Two more Tom Collins, please.”

Bernie never had taken advantage of anyone who was drunk, but she figured this was a good time to start.

“So, tell me about Jeff. I could have sworn that you said the police didn’t believe he killed that man in self-defense.”

“Well, that’s a complex issue. Jeremy said that’s how it started, but by the time Jeff stopped stabbing, he could have killed the man 10 times over.”

Bernie set down her drink. “I never heard that.”

“Well, even though a cop saw Jeff and Jeremy coming out of the building, by the time the body was found nobody could be sure exactly when the man had been killed. But Jeremy told me everything. Jeff was defending him, alright, but he practically shredded that homeless man.”

The bartender set two new drinks in front of them. Shonda took two quick gulps while Bernie pushed hers away.

“Shredded?” Bernie said.

“He had brought along his favorite pocket knife, and even after he got the guy to let go of Jeremy with the first stab, Jeff pinned him down and just started hacking. Then he stayed there leaning over him for a couple minutes.”

“Maybe he panicked. You know? The adrenaline from seeing his brother in danger.”

“That’s what I prefer to believe.”

“He seems nice,” Bernie offered weakly.

“Perfect gentleman in all respects. Even got himself elected mayor of a small town in northwest Arkansas.”

“Still, I don’t think I can be alone with him after hearing that.”

“Good thinking,” Shonda said, then took a bite of the orange wedge from the side of her glass. “I believe I’m getting drunk.”

Bernie picked a peanut, still in its shell, from a nearby bowl. She cracked it between her thumb and index finger and peeled off the thin, red skin around one of the nuts. Although she wanted to hear more about Jeff, there was another important matter at hand.

“Please, tell me why you brought me here,” Bernie said.

Shonda turned her hand palm up. “I’ll need one of those first, please.”

Bernie’s rough, dry fingers set a nut in Shonda’s supple palm.

“Jeremy’s gonna be pissed.” Shonda sighed and tossed the peanut into her mouth. “At first I was just glad to see you, and it hurt me to see you living on the streets. I wanted to see an old friend, maybe feed you a nice meal.”

Bernie stood.

Shonda grabbed her arm. “No wait. That sounded bad. Sit back down. Okay, now. As soon as I got back in the car, I told Jeremy I had seen you. He remembered who you were. I wanted to do something that would really make a difference, because back in high school after Kenneth tried to –”

“You believed me?” Bernie recalled the knowing look on teenaged Shonda’s face.

“Believed you? My dear, I went through it myself. I just wish I had been on the edge of a cliff. Then he never could have tried the same thing with you.”

“He tried to rape you, too?”

“He succeeded, if you can call something like that a success. I didn’t tell anybody because I wasn’t sure that was what it was, and he was so popular I didn’t want to put my word against his.”

“How awful. I’m so sorry,” Bernie said.

“You’re the one who caught the worst of it. I felt guilty because I could have told you not to go out with him, but I didn’t.”

“We didn’t really hang out back then.”

“Stop being so sweet, Bernie. That was no excuse.” She took another swig. “He ruined your life, and I didn’t speak up to help you. I had worked for years to push it out of my mind. And then, today, to see you living like that… I just…”

Tears streamed down Shonda’s face and dripped into her drink.

Bernie laid a hand over Shonda’s. “Bartender, could we have some more bev naps over here, please?” she said.

Shonda mopped up her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

“Don’t apologize. We were kids back then. Lots of things change. Not all of the right things sometimes, but we’re here talking now. That’s new.”

“We came up with a plan. Well, I did, but Jeremy seemed okay with it. I told him I want to start my own business, and I knew you had managed your husband’s company for a while.”

“But you said that you didn’t keep up with the hometown much.”

“When I heard you were married and running your husband’s business, I thought you were doing okay. I didn’t have anything else back here to worry about, and I kind of stopped asking about you. Part of me didn’t want to know if something had gone wrong again.

“Anyway,” Shonda continued, “I told Jeremy I thought I could hire you to be my business manager.”

“For a business doing what?” Bernie said.

Shonda drew the tiny plastic sword from her drink and sucked the cherry off the end. “Writing travel books. I’ve always wanted to travel, and I’ve published a few freelance articles on other topics. But mine would have a twist. I would write guides for people who don’t think they can afford to travel. I would help them tuck away money here and there, and then get by on as little money as possible once they arrive at their destination. That’s where you come in.”

“Well, I’m damn sure the expert on that. I live rent-free and I don’t pay utilities at all. Cable companies don’t know I exist, and I don’t have a car payment or insurance premiums. Everybody wants to be me.”

“Don’t make fun. I might be tipsy, but I can kick your ass. I listen to Mozart while I do Tae Bo.”

“Oh, God, I haven’t heard that song in ages. Please keep it that way. So, how does my hearing problem fit into all this?”

“I’ll do most of the talking. So, what do you say, Bernie? You want to be my business manager, slash research assistant, slash travel buddy?”

“What’s the catch?”

“You can’t have anything tying you down, and at first you have to be willing to work in exchange for having all your expenses paid.”

“Check, and check.” Bernie said.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Bernie grabbed her drink and slid it closer. “Yes, I will. There are a few things I need to wrap up here, a few folks I need to say goodbye to. Almost everybody wants nothing to do with me, but a few have kept me going. I don’t want them to think I just died or something horrible like that. If you could take me to the fish hatchery, I can get started tonight.”

“The fish hatchery?”

“Long story.”

Shonda called Jeremy and told him they would have dinner later, and asked him to pass Bernie’s apology to Jeff for breaking their date. “Well, he’s just going to have to be disappointed,” she said.

Bernie told Shonda about Trout Day while they drove back through town and up to the north side, just across Greers Ferry Dam. “Bill pulls out a nice, big trout for me every time he works security out there. He never knows more than a week in advance where he’ll be working. Then I just go over to one of the campsites at Dam Site Park and cook it up. Delicious.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing I need for my guides.”

“It’s not exactly legal,” Bernie said.

“Well, we might have to adjust slightly, but the spirit’s there.”

Bernie started to see the potential of their partnership. She never thought that her experience living on the streets would turn out to be lucrative. A voice inside her head suggested she slow down and bit and consider everything more carefully, but it sounded a lot like the one that told her she never could survive if she left Heber Springs.

After bidding Bill and Trout Day goodbye, she rode with Shonda to Lockard’s, to thank Jim Flanagan for letting her eat in exchange for the occasional odd job. “I’d like to walk to my place from here,” Bernie said.

“Why?” Shonda said.

“I’d rather nobody see it.”

Reluctantly, Shonda agreed to meet her back at Lockard’s in an hour.

The night air was cold, but the borrowed sweater and the brisk walk warmed Bernie. Like a schoolgirl, she giddily crossed a steel conduit over Town Creek, arms outstretched to keep her balance. She saddened as she walked through the parking lot of the dilapidated shell of Town and Country, the first place she remembered going grocery shopping with her parents. Despite all the pain she had suffered through the years, the town held happy memories, too.

On the same side of the road were more buildings she once knew well but that for years had been filled with businesses quite different from those she had frequented. To one, her mother used to take her once a month to choose a ceramic figure to paint. She first rented a video in the place next door.

The first place she pumped gas, the first restaurant she remembered. The only place she ever bought a car.

After turning down Searcy Street, she almost skipped as she made her last walk to her last shack. The bulldozers had crept closer since that morning, their indifferent destruction now within 25 yards of her achingly humble abode.

Bernie opened the door and let the construction trailer’s yellow sulfur light shine on the opposite wall and her makeshift bed. It all seemed unbelievable. Would she really never sleep on the ground again, unless by choice?

She set a rock against the door to keep the spring from slamming it shut, and then stepped inside.

A strong arm wrapped around her from behind and pinned her arms while a hand clapped over her mouth. Something struck the back of her legs, buckling them and sending her to her knees. Her attacker followed her down.

A familiar man’s voice said, “You broke our date, so I had to drop in unannounced. You offer something unique, Bernice. You have killed, yet did so accidentally. Oh, the torment I will feel from your soul as it courses through me. It promises to be more rewarding than any of the others.”

Others?

He took his hand off her mouth.

Pain pierced her back and ran through to her chest.

She got one knee off the ground and pushed off with that foot. They both fell backward, Bernie landing on top.

“Oh, yes, fight it. That will only enhance my experience,” Jeff said.

Bathed in yellow light, Bernie saw a shadow move across the wall. She turned her head toward the door. There stood a tall, dark figure in perfect Silhouette. Behind it was the distinct shape of a wagon.

“Glenda, help!” Bernie screamed.

The large woman rushed in and easily picked up Bernie, then pushed her aside. She turned and squinted at the light to find Jeff, but jerked back suddenly and fell onto Bernie’s sleeping pad.

“Glenda!” Bernie shouted. Glenda twitched a few times and then stopped moving.

Bernie felt dizzy and weak, like the time she gave blood at noon without having a meal that morning. She tried to will her body to stand, but she could only slowly collapse next to her former nemesis.

“Oh, this is a nasty wrinkle. You shall help me press it out, Bernice.”

Bernie was too weak to move, and her vision was blurring.

Jeff grabbed a corner of Bernie’s tattered blanket and wiped the knife down. He used it to hold the knife as he pressed it into Glenda’s hand, and then left it in Bernie’s and closed her fingers around the handle.

He said something, but she couldn’t quite make it out and couldn’t read his lips. He sat there waiting, staring her down until her eyes blinked open only once every — how long was it? She couldn’t tell.

Jeff stood and walked to the door. His shadowed form waved as it kicked away Bernie’s doorstop.

The light went out.

(to be continued)

This entry was posted on Monday, March 3rd, 2008 at 11:54 pm and is filed under Drama. You may follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed, and/or leave a comment below.