What Follows After: A Novel (24 page)

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Etta Mae said. “Didn’t figure the walk right, how long it took to get here from where the bus dropped me off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Adams said. “I’m not the punctual sister. I just appreciate you coming here to give me a hand. Like a fool, I hurt my foot out there in the backyard hanging laundry. Tripped over a big tree root. Not like I didn’t know it was there. Lived in this house long enough, and that tree’s been here longer than me.”

Etta Mae stepped a little closer. “You been to see a doctor for that?” Looking at the way those bandages were wrapped, she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“No, no need. Lived long enough to know the difference between a break and a sprain. Just a bad sprain, is all. But my laundry’s been out there on the line going on two days.” She lifted up that set of binoculars and used it to look out the window.

What in the world? How far away was that clothesline? Etta Mae wondered.

Still looking through those binoculars, Mrs. Adams said, “Guess that’s where you better start then.”

“The laundry basket nearby, Mrs. Adams?” Etta Mae asked.

“Should be right out there. Might have to brush it off a little. When I fell, I grabbed onto it on my way down. Wound up sitting on it till I got my bearings. But please, do me a favor. Call me Josephine. And may I call you Etta Mae?”

“You certainly may.” That was gonna take some getting used to, she thought. Calling this white woman by her first name. Barely three minutes in the door, and she was already beginning to like her. She noticed when Josephine talked about the laundry basket she was looking toward the backyard, not the side yard where she was aiming those binoculars.

So what was she looking at? “I’ll get right on it then,” Etta Mae said, heading toward the kitchen and the back door. “Want me to rewash them?”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Josephine said. “Hasn’t rained since I put them on the line. Just shake them out real good before you fold them, in case any leaves or dirt fell on them. Might have to rewash any that the birds pooped on.”

Etta Mae smiled. “I will.”

“Now my sister’s going to pay you for coming over here, right? She told me she would.”

Etta Mae stopped walking. “She is. Even a little more than usual.”

“I’m glad. Mabel’s always tried to look after me. I’m her younger sister. Of course, you wouldn’t know it to look at me. She’s got more years, but I’ve got more miles, if you know what I mean.”

Etta Mae did, and she had assumed Josephine was the older of the two. She was more surprised to find Mrs. Schaeffer’s first name was Mabel. Been working for the woman all these years and never knew that. Fact is, she knew more about Josephine these past five minutes than she’d learned about her big sister, Mabel, all that time.

Mabel. Mrs. Schaeffer sure didn’t look like no Mabel. “I’ll just get on that laundry then.”

Josephine put those binoculars back up to her face. “And I’ll just sit here on guard duty.”

Etta Mae shook her head in bewilderment as she walked outside. There was the clothesline tied up between two trees, the laundry basket still upside down. She walked over to it then turned, trying to imagine what Josephine was looking at. Seemed like she must be spying on her neighbor across the way. That was the only thing in that direction.

The lake was behind them. The dirt street out in front.

She picked up the overturned basket, then looked again at the neighbor’s house. It was just about the same size as Josephine’s, painted an ugly shade of green instead of white. There was an old pickup truck parked out front. She didn’t see any people or pets. No livestock of any sort. Nothing worth looking at, really. Let alone staring at all day through a pair of binoculars. She’d just have to come out and ask Josephine what she was up to. She’d never think of doing the same with Mrs. Schaeffer, butting into her personal business. But Josephine seemed like she might not even mind.

Etta Mae got the laundry off the line, then carried it back into the house. Since Josephine lived alone, they were obviously all her clothes. “You want me to put these away for you?”

“That would be a great help,” Josephine said. “Guess I better explain where they go.”

“That’s okay. You just do . . . whatever it is you’re doing there. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Josephine brought her binoculars down to her lap. “Guess this looks a little strange, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” Etta Mae said, smiling. Maybe a lot, she thought.

“I’ve been feeling like Jimmy Stewart these past couple of days, you know, in that Alfred Hitchcock movie. What was it called,
Rear Window
?”

Etta Mae liked Jimmy Stewart, but she guessed she hadn’t seen that one. Must’ve showed on her face, because Josephine went on to explain.

“Remember, he was a photographer who broke his leg. Lived in an apartment surrounded by a bunch of other apartments, with a courtyard down below. Didn’t have anything to do all day but stare out the window at all the other tenants with a set of binoculars, like these. Tried to figure out their life stories. His girlfriend was that beautiful blonde actress Grace Kelly. You know, the one who married a prince. As he looked out the window, Jimmy Stewart was sure he saw a husband murdering his wife and burying her body in that courtyard. Remember?”

Wasn’t ringing any bells for Etta Mae. Sounded like a good one, though. She liked murder mysteries. Throw in Jimmy Stewart and she was sure she’d like it. “Too bad I missed that one,” she said.

Josephine put the binoculars back up to her face and said, “Well, I feel like him. Only, I don’t think I’m watching a murder taking place. Least I hope I’m not. But I got this crazy redneck neighbor lives next door. Meanest, most unfriendly man I ever met. I’ve been trying to reach out to him for years, just trying to be a good neighbor, see if I can invite him to my church. There’s a man who needs to be in church in the worst way.”

“So what’s he doing, or what do you think he’s doing, that makes you want to watch him with binoculars?”

“That’s just it,” Josephine said. “He might not be doing anything wrong. But he’s been acting stranger than usual this past week. And his little boy is back, after being gone for months. Gone where, I have no idea. I thought maybe he had been living with his mother. Tried to ask August about that; that’s my neighbor’s name. And he about bit my head off. Thought if he had a broom, he’d have liked to smack me with it.”

Etta Mae still didn’t understand what that had to do with watching him with those binoculars.

Josephine continued. “See, I never got a chance to spend any time with his boy when he lived here before. August always kept him on a short leash. But I saw him out sweeping the front porch the other day, and I could’ve sworn he wasn’t the same little boy.”

Etta Mae’s ears perked right up.

Josephine continued. “I’ve been reading the newspaper every day, because of this Cuban missile crisis. Most days I just read ‘Dear Abby’ and the obituaries. And I saw this story about a little boy been kidnapped on Monday. Had a picture of the boy and a drawing of the man who took him. I’m telling you, the man looked a bit like August. I only saw that little boy sweeping that porch for a minute, but I could’ve swore he resembled the boy in the newspaper. I’ve been watching the house ever since, trying to get a glimpse of him up close. But August hasn’t let him out of the house again.”

“Timmy?” Etta Mae said. “You talking about Timmy?”

“I think that’s his name,” Josephine said. “How did you know that?”

Friday afternoon was nearly over. Mike and Rose had just left for the store to pick up a few needed things for dinner. Colt was across the street at his friend Murph’s. Scott and Gina were alone in the house.

Scott was reading the newspaper, sitting where he’d always sat. Gina sat in her spot, finishing the last few sips of her coffee. In between the moments she unconsciously stared at the telephone, wishing it would ring, she wondered what Scott was thinking. A common pastime for her when Scott had lived here. He would sit there not talking, and she would sit there trying to imagine what was on his mind. Back when she used to care a great deal about this, she’d occasionally ask him.

He would typically say nothing. Nothing was on his mind.

She typically found that hard to believe. Was he just stupid? Were all men just stupid? Of course, he couldn’t be stupid in one sense; they didn’t give out engineering degrees to stupid people. But could he really just sit there and pass the time with absolutely nothing going on in his brain? Could men, in general, really be content dwelling on absolutely nothing?

“What are you thinking about?”

Gina looked up. Now this was different. Scott was asking what was on her mind. But she couldn’t tell him. Not really. He’d be too insulted. Maybe that was it, why he’d always said “nothing” when she’d asked him this question. The truth wasn’t
nothing
. He was thinking of something he didn’t want to tell her.

“Nothing,” she said.

“You sure? Your face looks pretty serious.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I’ve got a question,” he said. “When did you stop using the milkman?”

Oh my goodness, she thought. Was that the big thing piquing his curiosity right now? The milkman’s fate? “When did you notice?”

“Yesterday, I guess. So, when was the last time he came?”

“It’s been awhile. A few months after you left. Wasn’t really a big deal. I might have felt bad for the man, if we’d ever met. But he always came and went before we woke up. So I just left him a little note with a little extra tip.” Scott cared because he had been a milkman for several years, back when he had gone to night school. It was a hard life, mainly because you had to go to bed and wake up so early in order to get the milk and eggs to all your customers before they woke up. And, of course, Gina had to get up with Scott to get his breakfast and lunch ready.

“They’re a dying breed, I think.” Scott put the newspaper down. “It’s kind of sad, when you think about it, like the passing of an era.”

Gina wasn’t so sentimental. “I hated it when you worked as one. But having a milkman was pretty convenient most of the time. But now that we get fresh dairy in the supermarket, and it’s even cheaper, and I go shopping at least a couple times a week, I just didn’t see the point.”

“I’m not mad,” he said. “Probably would have made the same decision if I was here.”

She kind of doubted that. Maybe he would have. He certainly seemed to be doing some things differently than she was used to. Like this, sitting here reading the paper instead of being at work. She still couldn’t believe he had walked away from that big promotion, right in the middle of this Expo thing. Technically, he didn’t really have a job right now. And it didn’t seem to bother him. That was different too.

“I really liked being a milkman,” he said. “I don’t know why exactly. I hated getting up so early.”

“You did? You never said that when you were a milkman. When I’d complain about it, you’d try to talk me out of it and tell me what a good job it was, how much we needed the money. One time you said, ‘Milkmen provide a vital service in this country.’”

“I really said that?” He was smiling.

She nodded. “You really did.”

“What did you say back?”

“What could I say back? I couldn’t believe you said it. I was only complaining because I was so tired from having to get up with Timmy at 1:00 a.m. He was just a baby then. I was just letting off a little steam, and you were trying to defend the rights of all milkmen everywhere.”

Scott shook his head. “I was such a dope.”

Gina laughed. He really was.

He leaned back on the couch. “I can’t believe we lived like that for three years.”

“I can,” she said. She was going to say more but decided not to pile on. He was being so nice right now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why
did
we do that for three years? And those other jobs you had for four more, while you attended night school?”

“Because we needed the money. I did it so you could stay home
with the boys. I thought that’s what you wanted. What we both wanted.”

“I did, but me working wasn’t our only option. There was another option on the table that you rejected. And it would’ve meant you could have gone to school during the day full-time instead of at night, and that would have knocked three whole years off our ordeal.”

Scott stood up. Gina recognized this move. He was about to clam up. Then he’d walk away, refusing to talk about things further. He used to say he did this for her protection, so she wouldn’t have to hear him get angry and say some things he’d later regret.

But that wasn’t what happened this time. He sat back in his chair.

“I know it must look that way to you,” he said softly, “but at the time I didn’t feel like I had any choice.”

“Okay,” she said. “Could you explain that?”

“I’ll try. To me, that option was a closed door. Because my father made the offer with some pretty short strings. He was pressuring me to go into finance and to go to the same college he and my brothers went to. I wanted to be an engineer. But it was more than that. Even if I could have somehow talked him into letting me be an engineer, I didn’t want to be dependent on him. Not like that. I’m not like my father, or my brothers.” He let out a deep sigh. “Or like my mother, for that matter.”

She knew this but wondered what he meant by it. They had never talked about any of these things before. “What do you mean? In what ways?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love them. All of them. But I’m not . . . I don’t know. I’m not old South. Not since Korea. I don’t buy into the way they think. For one thing, I don’t like the way they treat Mamie Lee. Or black people in general. I never liked that. She’s been working for them my whole life, and she has nothing. Noth
ing to show for it. And they’re all okay with that. For them, it’s just the way it is.”

He stood up again but kept talking. “They won’t even let me treat her the way I want to. When I do, I get scolded like a child. But I know what’s really going on. When I do nice things for her, I’m making them look bad. And they don’t like how that feels. I love them, but honestly?” He paused. “They’re just racists, Gina. When you get right down to it. Southern white racists who really believe, at a basic level, that whites are better, smarter, and more deserving of the good life. I grew up with that, but that’s not who I am. It always bothered me. And after what I experienced in Korea, I can’t do it anymore.”

Here was something else he barely ever talked about: his time in Korea. While he was there, he’d written letters, but it was all small talk. Nothing that conveyed where he might be struggling or things he was feeling at a heart level. “What did you experience in Korea that has to do with this?”

“I guess I never told you this, but . . . two black guys turned out to be my closest friends over there, and one of them even saved my life.”

Gina had never heard any of these things before. She liked what she was hearing. Why had they never talked like this?

“Mamie Lee feels more like my mom than my own mother does. I think I could have told Mamie Lee everything I was going through, while it was happening, and she would’ve understood, and she could have helped me understand it all, just like she did when I was little. Because of my parents, I could never talk to her that way. I had to keep Mamie in the dark. She still doesn’t know half the things I’ve been through.”

“Scott,” Gina said softly, “neither do I, and I’m your wife. Does that sound right to you? Why couldn’t you have talked to me like
that? Told me everything you were feeling—while it was happening? Given me a chance to see if I would’ve understood?”

He looked at her a few moments, like he didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have talked to Mamie Lee, or have been able to talk with her like that. But that’s who I wanted to be in your life, who I was supposed to be in your life. But you never let me in. Do you realize we haven’t had a conversation like this . . . ever? I’m hearing you share things now that you were feeling years ago, for the first time. And I’m not judging you. Or telling you how wrong you were to feel that way. In fact, I pretty much agree with everything you’re saying about Mamie Lee. I would have even been open to us inviting her over, even if we had to do it secretly behind your parents’ back. It could’ve been our secret.”

Gina didn’t mean to or want to. It was probably just the emotions of everything else going on this week. But she started to cry just then.

Scott didn’t get angry with her. He didn’t try to defend himself or make any excuses. When she looked up and was able to see his face through her own tears, she saw tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gina. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. You’re right, I should have given you a chance.”