by Kim Fielding
Finally, he booted up his computer to make sure the Internet was functional. He sent an e-mail to Dr. Ochoa to let him know he’d arrived and settled in and to thank him again for the opportunity. After a few moments of indecision, William sent an e-mail to his parents. He told them he had found a temporary place to stay, but he didn’t go into detail. They were still pissed off over the divorce.
After that, there wasn’t anyone left to contact. He had a few grad school friends but wasn’t really that close to them, and in any case, they already knew about his new job. All his other friends had been Lisa’s friends too, and they’d distanced themselves after the breakup.
He got up from the desk, stood in the middle of the room, and surveyed his new quarters. He’d already organized his books and papers, but they didn’t take up much of the ample shelf space. He wondered if the shelves had ever been filled. Maybe the hospital directors had bought books by the case to give the room a look of both wisdom and decorum.
As he stood on a red-and-blue rug, thinking about why anyone would want to run a mental hospital in the middle of nowhere, he heard weird noises. Small creaks mostly, but occasionally a muffled pop or groan. It was a little creepy. But being a practical sort, William realized the sounds were nothing but a poorly kept old building slowly falling apart. Broken bits of something rattling in the evening breeze. Maybe mice or squirrels or birds.
By then night had fallen and, he hoped, the temperature had dropped. After considerable huffing and puffing, he managed to pry open one of the windows and put the largest fan in front of it. The whir of the blades drowned out a lot of the background noises, and the evening air cooled the room a little.
He turned on the desk light and spent some time shuffling papers restlessly, reading a few journal articles and some of his old notes. He knew he should get some serious work done, but he felt too unsettled. New places tended to do that to him. He shut off the computer and picked up a novel—A Light in August—but even in paperback it felt too heavy, and he put it back down. He glanced at the TV and almost turned it on. He knew there would be nothing worth watching, however, so didn’t bother trying.
He was tired, and it suddenly occurred to him that he could go to sleep if he wanted to. He allowed himself a wicked smile at the prospect. Because of Lisa’s late working hours, and then because of night classes in his building at the university, he rarely turned in before midnight. And here it was, barely past nine and no one around to notice or care.
Yes, he decided, early to bed. He’d wake up early, refreshed and eager to plug away at his data.
Folded and stacked on the bed was his one set of sheets, a $4.99 purchase from a really depressing discount store. They were printed with blurry stripes in muddy colors, they were pilled and scratchy, and even after a couple of washes they still smelled like plastic. But at least they had fit the love seat in his office. They were much too small for the bed here, which looked big enough to host a Roman orgy, but he spread them out as best as he could and decided he’d shop for bedding soon.
He opened the dresser drawer but paused before grabbing his pajamas. He always slept in pajamas: flannel in the winter and cotton in warmer weather. Always had. Lisa used to tease him about it, yet sometimes bought him a new pair for his birthday. Probably the practicality of the gift had appealed to her. Even on nights when they were supposed to have sex he’d start out in his pajamas, and he’d pull them on again after they’d cleaned up.
But… even with the fans going, the room was awfully warm. The little bit of moving air would probably feel nice over bare skin. And there was nobody but cows for miles around.
The wicked smile returned as William shoved the drawer closed and stripped to his boxers. He hung his pants carefully in the armoire before padding into the bathroom, where he placed the dirty socks and undershirt in the washing machine. His evening ablutions took very little time. He wasn’t the type to linger, and there wasn’t much to look at in the mirror anyway. His nose was too long and too sharp, his lips too thin, his eyes muddy brown, his straight sandy hair unremarkable. The rest of him wasn’t so great either. Lisa had always told him he could pack on some muscle if he tried—she was a physical therapist and considered herself an expert on the subject. But his few attempts at working out had ended quickly. He didn’t really enjoy focusing so much on his body and had accepted the fact that he was tall and slightly scrawny.
Back in the main room, he debated whether to close the window. Leaving it open left him feeling exposed, even though he knew nobody was out there. But if he closed it he’d lose access to the bit of cooling air. He ended up with a half-assed compromise, pulling the drapes partway shut so that they billowed slightly in the breeze.
Oh man, the bed was comfortable, even with the terrible sheets. For the first time in weeks he could really stretch out, and he did, starfishing himself across the mattress so that the fan dried the sweat on his chest and legs. He had never slept in such an enormous bed before. It would never have fit in the bedroom of their cramped Oakland apartment. Whatever else came of his time in Jelley’s Valley, at least he’d get a decent night’s sleep.
HE WOKE to the sound of birds calling raucously outside his window. Tangled in the loose sheets, he was a little disoriented at first. But by the time he freed himself, he had remembered where he was. He glanced at his small alarm clock on the nightstand and discovered with a shock that it was 9:13. There went his intentions for an early start.
Despite getting nearly twelve hours of sleep, he felt a little muzzy-headed as he used the bathroom and heated a pot of water for tea. He preferred coffee but hated instant and had no way to brew the decent stuff he’d brought with him. He needed to buy a coffeemaker when he went sheet shopping.
Darjeeling tea and dry toast were enough to get his brain functioning again. He had to stoop a little to fit in the shower, but at least the water pressure was decent. He was running low on soap and shampoo. He decided midway through rinsing that instead of settling down in front of his laptop right away, he’d take a drive into town. He could get some groceries and make sure the post office knew he existed. He was a little doubtful whether he’d find all the items on his growing shopping list, but at least he could give it a try.
He shaved and dressed. He felt a little daring in going tieless, but he could already tell it was going to be another hot day, and the thought of that strip of fabric strangling him in his stifling car was just too much. He even considered leaving the sport jacket behind, but in the end he threw it onto the passenger seat. He needed to look at least somewhat professional.
The ritual of unlocking and then relocking the gate was going to get tedious, he predicted. And the key ring Jan had given him was too heavy to keep in his pocket. He ended up stuffing it in his glove box instead and hoped nobody broke into his car when he was in town.
Hawks circled high overhead, and the cows watched as he bumped down the long road to the highway.
The town of Jelley’s Valley was so tiny he nearly sped through it. A long, low building with a white-gravel parking lot housed the post office and general store. The square building next door was Dos Hermanos restaurant. An ancient gas station across the highway completed the business section. There were houses too, maybe a hundred of them, all very modest and set well away from the road. A larger building with a flag out front was nestled at the base of a hill. Judging by the adjacent play structures, it was the area’s elementary school.
William pulled in next to the only other vehicle in the lot, a battered old pickup. Two men in bicyclists’ gear sat at a picnic table near the post office end of the building. Their bikes leaned against a nearby tree, and one of the men guzzled a sports drink while the other massaged his own thighs. Neither gave William more than a quick glance as he emerged from the car and slipped his jacket on. Even the cows had found him more interesting than these two men did.
Fliers were stapled to the exterior of the building beside the post office door. Free kittens. An upcom
ing yard sale. A barbecue to raise money for someone named Patty, although why Patty needed the cash was not explained. A person with horrible spelling and worse handwriting was offering to do yard work or light repairs, “Price Negoshible.”
William pulled open the door and stepped inside.
He saw at once that the post office and store shared one big room. The postal part had a wooden counter with locked boxes in front and a grid of cubbyholes behind. The walls in that portion of the room sported more homemade advertisements as well as a couple of faded posters for commemorative stamps. There was nobody behind the counter.
In fact, the only two people he could see were in the larger portion of the room, the general store. Several low shelves were packed with boxes, jars, and cans. A large older woman in lavender sweatpants and matching sweatshirt stood near the cash register, chatting loudly with the clerk, who was mostly hidden by the bulk of her body. “Delmer says we shouldn’t give her a penny more, not even if she is my niece, because she’s just going to squander it. But it’s her kids I’m worrying about. The littlest one, he has to have some kind of expensive eyeglasses or he can’t hardly see, and the middle one told me they’ve been eating nothing but sandwiches for dinner. Honestly, Colby, I just don’t know what to do.” She shook her head mournfully.
“Family can break your heart, Mrs. Barrett.”
“They sure can, Colby. They sure can. I just toss and turn all night thinking of those children. If I were ten years younger I’d take them in myself, I surely would.”
“And I bet you’d do a real good job with them. You raised your own really well.”
Mrs. Barrett nodded before digging in her purse. The cash register jingled merrily—it was an old-fashioned one, not the modern variety that beeped impudently.
“Need some help out to your car today?” asked Colby.
“Thank you, but I think I can still manage one bag by myself. I’m not ready for the scrap heap yet!”
“Nah, you have a lot of miles left in you.”
Clerk and customer laughed. The plastic sack rustled as Mrs. Barrett gathered the handles. She turned away from the counter and hobbled to the door without glancing William’s way.
“Can I help you?” asked Colby.
William got a good look at the clerk and winced. Colby was maybe twenty-two, a good ten years younger than William. The original color of his hair was unclear; right now it was streaked with varying unnatural shades of blond and sculpted into elaborate waves and spikes. He was rather short and there was an elfin quality to him, with his slightly pointed chin and his clear blue eyes set a little obliquely. Those tilted eyes were traced with black eyeliner. His full lips were so red that William wondered if he was wearing lipstick. He wore a tight black tank top that revealed wiry arms and a compactly muscled chest. TOTAL DANCE WHORE was written across the front in sparkly silver letters.
He smiled at William and tilted his head a bit. “Help you?” he repeated.
“Um… I need to talk to someone at the, um, post office.”
“Oh! That’d be me.”
William backed up a couple of steps as Colby skipped down the aisle in his direction. Colby grinned, seemingly thrilled to be helping out. Instead of unlatching the gate to the post office counter, he vaulted right over and landed gracefully on the other side.
“What can I get you? Stamps? I’ve got some nice ones.”
“You work here?”
Colby apparently wasn’t put off by the question. “Yep. Why? Don’t I look like I know what I’m doing? I can demonstrate my awesome mastery of ZIP codes if you want.”
“That’s not exactly a regulation postal uniform.”
Colby glanced down at his shirt. He was wearing jeans too, skinny ones that showed off his trim physique, and a pair of red flip-flops. He looked back up at William and shrugged. “Who wants to wear pale blue all the time? And those dorky shorts with the stripe? So not flattering. Anyway, I have an in with the postmaster.” He winked and stage-whispered, “She’s my aunt.”
William didn’t like being winked at, but managed to keep his voice neutral. “May I speak with her?”
“Not now. She leaves me all cooped up inside while she does the rural deliveries. She claims it’s ’cause she likes the fresh air, but the real attraction is Bob Samuels. His ranch is the last stop on her route and she’s having a fling with him. Well, if you can call something a fling when it’s been going on for almost a decade.”
“A decade?” William echoed weakly.
“Something like that. Since a year or two after Bob’s wife passed away. I keep telling Aunt Deedee she ought to just move in with the old guy, but she says neither of them is fit to live with anyone else and they’re both happier this way. I dunno. If I had someone steady I’d want to wake up next to him every morning, but maybe that’s just me.”
With considerable effort, William managed not to shudder.
If Colby noticed his discomfort, he didn’t let it show. His smile still hadn’t faded. “Whatever your postal needs, I can help.”
“I’m, uh, I just got this job at the—”
“Hey! You’re the new guy at the loony bin! Jeez, I should’ve figured that out already. Sorry. I’m Colby Anderson, mailman and grocer.” He stuck his hand out.
William shook it just twice before pulling his own hand back. His skin tingled uncomfortably. “William Lyon. I wanted to let you know in case I get any mail.”
“Great! Anything comes in for Bill Lyon, we’ll make sure you get it.”
“It’s William.”
Colby went on as if William hadn’t spoken. “Now, Aunt Deedee doesn’t deliver to the nuthatch, at least not usually. You expecting a lot of mail?”
“No.” In fact, he was expecting very little.
“Cool. Then you can just collect it yourself whenever you’re in the mood. Or if you give me your phone number, I can call you if anything important-looking arrives. You know, save you the trip if it’s just catalogs or something.”
William blinked at him. “You’ll call me?”
“Sure. I got a couple of other customers I do that for. One of ’em has a mailing address here but spends most of his time at a cabin way up in the mountains. I let him know when his checks arrive.”
Although he was uncomfortable at the thought of this man scrutinizing his mail, William couldn’t think of any way to avoid it. And it would be nice to be notified right away when essential mail arrived. Lisa’s lawyer would probably be sending the divorce papers soon. It had been an easy split, no-contest, with hardly anything in the way of assets to worry about. William would have given her everything even if they’d had more.
“Okay,” he said to Colby.
“Take out your phone.”
William fumbled in his pocket as he complied. Then he obediently punched in the numbers that the other man gave him. Colby’s back pocket began to play a song—“It’s Raining Men,” for pity’s sake—and Colby pulled out his phone with a flourish. “Hey,” he said into the device.
Feeling silly, William just stood there. He was relieved when Colby chuckled and poked at the screen. “Gotcha. Now you’re in my contacts, Will Lyon.”
“It’s William.” It always had been, even when he’d been very small. Never Bill or Will or, God forbid, Willy.
Colby tucked his phone away. From what William had seen of his very tight jeans, it was a minor miracle that the guy could manage to fit anything in the pocket.
“So now that we have your communication needs under control, is there anything else I can help you with? Stamps?” He winked again.
“I, um, could use some groceries.”
“Sure thing.” Colby scooted over the counter. He didn’t quite brush against William as he passed by, but he came close. Much too close for William’s comfort. Maybe calling Colby’s gait skipping was overdoing things, but his steps were too light and bouncy to be called walking. He looked like someone having fun at a party, or maybe making his way into a club.
Not a man passing between aisles of canned vegetables and Kotex.
When he was almost at the cash register, he whirled around to face William. “Before you point it out, yes, this isn’t regulation store clerk wear either. But I also have an in with the guy who owns the place. He’s my grandpa.”
“Are you related to everyone here?”
“Nope. Just everyone who matters,” Colby answered with a laugh. “The district fire chief is my uncle. I guess I could have got a job as a fireman but I’m not butch enough, and Christ, those uniforms are like ovens in the summer.” He bent down and retrieved a wire basket, which he held out to William. “Please. Feel free to peruse our bounteous selection.”
William took the basket with a small nod of thanks. He felt Colby’s gaze on him as he walked slowly down the shelves. The place was stocked about as well as a good-sized convenience store. The basic staples, mostly. Nothing fancy and not much selection. Certainly no coffeemakers or sheets. But William picked out some lunch meat, a carton of milk, some beans and rice, a bar of soap, and a few other items. Then he set the basket on the scarred wooden counter next to the cash register. “No fresh fruit, huh?”
Colby shook his head. “No, sorry. But that’s okay, ’cause if you drive about three miles down the highway you’ll come to a really great produce stand. They can set you up with anything you need, fruit- and veggie-wise.” He waggled his brows. “My cousins run the place.”
When William rolled his eyes, Colby laughed. He began to ring up the items in the basket, then paused. “Oh, man. Almost forgot. Now that you’re a local I get to show you the other main attraction in beautiful downtown Jelley’s Valley. Follow me.”
William didn’t really want to follow this creature anywhere, but he didn’t want to be rude. So he trailed along obediently to the back wall, where a narrow door was set between the refrigerator cases. Private, read the slightly crooked sign. Colby turned the knob, opened the door, and ushered William forward with a small flourish. “Welcome to the Jelley’s Valley cultural center.”
