The Antiques

by Kris D'Agostino

  “And they said it’s you.” Officer Bill pointed with his hand at Melody.

  “All right, Bill, settle down,” Officer Russell Garrett said. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but maybe we can just see some sort of identification, please? Clear this whole thing up?”

  Charlie racked her mind for a plausible explanation and/or answer to handsome Officer Russell Garrett’s questions, but before she came up with anything, Melody introduced herself.

  “Of course you may,” Melody said, speaking in a clear and authoritative Russian-accented voice. “I’m Valeriya Moroshkin.” She put out her hand and Officer Russell Garrett shook it. “Would a Russian passport be okay? It’s the only thing I have with me. I’m traveling from the Motherland, you see.”

  “Um, yes, sure,” Russell said, “I, uh, think that would be acceptable.”

  As there was no one else there aside from his partner to agree or disagree with him, Melody went off to fetch the document. While she was gone, Charlie grew more nervous, thinking that even if Melody came back with a passport that said Valeriya Moroshkin or whatever on it, all it would take would be for Dustin to walk in or for Florence to come fawning and asking for more autographs. So many things potentially giving them away.

  But there was Melody, holding up an official blood-red Russian passport for Officer Russell Garrett’s inspection. He flipped it open and scrutinized the photo and information contained within. He even did that thing where you hold it up at arm’s length to more accurately compare the photo to Melody. In the passport photo (Charlie couldn’t believe it), Melody was even wearing her incognito wig. Charlie was stunned silent. Officer Russell Garrett closed the passport and handed it back, shaking his head.

  “Okay, then. Good. I’m satisfied that you’re not this particular celebrity we’re looking for.”

  “But, Russ,” his partner said, “she kind of looks a lot like that vampire chick?”

  “Like I said, I’m satisfied Mrs. Moroshkin here is not who we’re looking for. I’m sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.”

  “Call me Valerie,” Melody said. “All the Americans do.”

  “Okay then, Valerie.”

  “So then how do you know these people?” Russell’s partner asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Melody said. “Well, of course, I’m close to the Westfalls. My mother is her sister’s late husband’s second cousin’s niece.”

  “In-law,” Charlie added for some unknown reason.

  “Huh?” Russell’s partner said.

  “What?” Melody said.

  “I think we’re done here,” Officer Russell Garrett said. He looked at Charlie and added, “It was nice to see you, Charlotte. Again.”

  “Call me Charlie,” Charlie said. “All the Americans do.”

  * * *

  Dustin and Abbott were halfway to the waterfront park. Abbott had his My Little Pony backpack slung over his shoulders and he’d deposited Ernest within. Dustin was the de facto leader of the expedition. He had led the pair down the alley to check out the “really cool” police car parked out front and it had been his suggestion to try the passenger-side door of the police car in an effort to locate the proper switch to make the sirens go and it had been his suggestion to walk up the block to look for more police cars. Abbott just bobbed along, content to be led about by his friend. He even ceased barking, for stealth-related reasons.

  * * *

  Josef tracked Natalie down in the kitchen. She was talking with Ana. His mother was crying and Natalie was consoling her. “It’s going to be okay,” his ex-wife said.

  He thought she looked beautiful and he also thought he had probably never deserved her, even for the little time he’d had her.

  “Do you promise?” Ana asked.

  Josef watched the two women embrace. They were both teary-eyed.

  Andy the Poet waited near the sink, looking on as Natalie consoled Ana. He watched her with a puppy-dog countenance. Or the guy wasn’t paying any attention. Either way Josef wanted to punch him right in the nose. Rey came into the kitchen.

  “Charlie?” he asked the room. No one answered. “Have you seen Charlie?”

  “Sorry, pal,” Josef said. Rey just stood there. Josef turned back to the women in his life. “Natalie,” Josef said. “A word, if I may?”

  “Your mother needs some support right now. Can we do this later?”

  “She’ll be fine. You were the one who said you wanted to talk. So can we talk? Please? Alone?”

  “Dad, Dad, Dad!” Florence now came into the kitchen. “Did you hear me read my letter?”

  He turned to her. “What? Oh, yeah, I did, honey, I did.”

  “Did you like it? Did I sound okay?”

  Josef knelt so that he was at her eye. “It was beautiful. I mean it. Grandpa would have loved it.”

  “I thought Melody’s speech was better, though,” Florence said.

  “Oh, please,” Isobel said. “It wasn’t even a speech. Wasn’t anyone listening? All she did was recite dumb poetry!”

  Andy coughed into his fist. Charlie came in.

  “There you are!” Rey said.

  Charlie backpedaled away from him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  He followed her out.

  “Natalie,” Josef said, leaning in close to her and lowering his voice. “You said you wanted to talk and so do I.”

  “Okay, fine,” she said, and to Ana, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Josef led her up the front stairs to the landing. She leaned against the big window, using the wide, old wood sill as a sort of bench.

  “I want to get back together. Don’t laugh. I’m serious. I’ve been giving this a ton of thought. Since my dad died. No, that’s not what I wanted to say. Since before that. For a while now. I feel close to you. You said it yourself. You texted me that you felt close to me and I agree.”

  “Oh, Josef,” Natalie said.

  “What does that mean? Don’t ‘Oh, Josef’ me!’ Don’t do that.”

  “You haven’t changed at all.”

  “I have! I totally have. I’m being mature here. I want to be there for you. I want to be there for Florence and Isobel. Like a real dad.”

  “You cheated on me. Numerous times. I don’t even think I know half of what you were up to, and believe me, what I know, the stuff I do know, is more than enough. I can’t believe you would even think this was about that. When I said I felt close to you I meant as a friend, as a human being who shares the pain you hopefully feel because your dad is dead. Are you even upset about it?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that!”

  “And yet you thought you’d use it as a springboard to getting back together with me? Now? After everything you’ve done? All the bullshit and the lies and the ‘business dinners’ and the Internet panty crap. It’s gross and it’s insulting.”

  “Our relationship functioned much better when I was unfaithful. I was more dedicated to you and to the girls! I was better.”

  “Than what? That makes absolutely no sense. You were cheating on me, you fucking jerk! I was your wife!”

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

  “It’s the worst thing. It’s the worst thing short of murdering me you could have done.”

  “I had needs. Sure, they were maybe a little perverse and hard for normal people to grasp—”

  “I’m one of those normal people! I can’t grasp it and I didn’t want to and I want to even less now.”

  “I was a better husband because of the cheating.”

  “How in your twelve-year-old brain does that work?”

  “It calmed me down. Kept me from going crazy, and it helped me focus on work, freed me to focus on work, and the girls and you and the things that everyone says really matter so much.”

  “You need help.”

  “I’m getting help!”

  “You’re a child. You’re standing here telling me you’ve changed, and you look like shit, you were clearly punched i
n the—”

  “This is from the car, I whacked my—”

  “Punched in the face. What did you think I would say?”

  “Yeah, okay, whatever, so I have problems with monogamy—”

  “It’s not just monogamy—”

  “But I’m working on them! Dr. Hammerstein and I are making solid forward strides and I’m different now, right? I’m thinking clearer. I’ve got a clear head is what I’m saying. And I think taking all of this stuff we’re talking about—the bad stuff and the good stuff—and smashing it all up and making it work, isn’t that love? I’m saying I love you, Natalie. I want to be with you. Again. I want the girls back in my life for real. I want to be a father. A good father.”

  “Andy asked me to marry him.”

  “He’s a poet!”

  “I said yes.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t say that. Look at me. Don’t say that. I want another chance.”

  “I don’t have anything left for you, Josef. I don’t. I’m sorry your father died. I truly, truly am. He was a good man and I liked him very much. He was always good to me. And he was good to the girls. He used to call me after we split up. Did you know that? Once a week. Just to check in and make sure we were okay. I spoke to him more than I spoke to you. I’ll miss him.”

  “Natalie. Please. I’m at the end of my rope here. I need you.”

  “Josef, get up.”

  “I’m begging you. I’m saying I’m sorry. I know what I did, it was wrong. Give me another chance. Let me show you.”

  “I don’t love you, Josef. I don’t think I have for a long while. I’m more sure now than ever.”

  A squeaking sound, like a mouse cry, drew Josef’s attention to the bottom of the stairs. Florence stood holding her signed Thornglow paperback. How long she’d been listening he didn’t know, but long enough to be in tears. She ran off.

  “Great!” Natalie said. “Fantastic. Job well done. If you’re gunning for the worst-father-of-all-time award, I’d say you’ve got it pretty much on lockdown.”

  “What did I do?”

  “To think for a second I thought you might have changed. You’re the same as ever. You don’t care about anyone. Do you even care about yourself?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  * * *

  There were no cars at the end of the street. It was quiet and sleepy. The town lingered in its post-storm dream-lull and Abbott and Dustin traveled the remaining blocks of Warren and hit Front Street without passing a single person. They marched right through the train station parking lot toward the flagpole. They ran in circles, giddy. The flag flapped in the strong post-storm gusts. The sun made little points of glistening light on the water, way down in the river.

  “Look at this!” Dustin said.

  He’d found a hole in the fencing just large enough for him and Abbott to squeeze through.

  “Water!” Abbott said, pointing down the steep slope toward the river.

  “Let’s go adventure,” Dustin said.

  * * *

  Everyone’s attention zeroed in on Charlie, who, in the living room, had proceeded to extract the mysterious panties from the Ziploc bag in her pocket and dangle them in Rey’s face. Andy tried to cover Isobel’s eyes, but she pushed him away. Melody put a hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.

  “You want to talk, Rey? Let’s talk. Let’s talk about these, huh?”

  “You’re being crazy.”

  “Whose panties are these?”

  “I think you have a drug problem,” Rey said.

  “Avoidance tactics! I do not have a problem.”

  “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Answer the question. Whose panties are these? That I found in our house. In my underwear drawer. To whom do they belong?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they’re Manuela’s?”

  “Ha!”

  A hush fell over the ground floor of the Warren Street house. The mourners stopped talking. With stupefied, gaping mouths, they were all focused on the warring couple. They had been given a wide berth in which to maneuver and the crowd encircled them as if they were two street fighters.

  Nora came forward with a finger in the air. “Can I see those for a second?”

  “What!” Charlie said.

  “Can I see the panties, please?” Nora said.

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause I’m pretty sure they’re mine.”

  “Finally,” Ying whispered to Father Chuk, “some excitement.”

  “Who are you?” Rey asked.

  Charlie handed Nora the panties. She inspected the tag and handed them back. “Yeah, those are mine.”

  “How?”

  “Any time I sell a pair on the Internet I draw little hearts on the tag and put my initials. See? Right there.”

  Charlie looked at the tag. Indeed, there was a red heart inked upon the fabric.

  “This is ridiculous,” Rey said. He started to leave, wasn’t sure where to go, walked toward the foyer, then turned back and headed to the study but was hemmed in because people had lined the room at all points, essentially barring any potential path of egress.

  “I buy those panties in bulk,” Nora said. “You would not believe how much you can make selling your dirty underwear online,” she added, nodding informatively. “It’s unreal.”

  “Men are all sexual deviants,” Ying said to Father Chuk.

  “Has anyone seen Dustin?” Melody said.

  “He’s with Abbott, I think,” Ana said.

  Charlie lowered the panties. “Florence and Isobel were looking after them,” she said.

  “No one asked us to watch them,” Isobel said.

  * * *

  Josef found Florence in the foyer near the memorial table, crying. He pushed his way through several people to get to her and she fell in to him, crying and holding him, clutching her paperback.

  “I’m so sorry, Flo,” Josef said. “I messed it all up. I know. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

  “How?” she asked. “How are you going to fix it?”

  * * *

  Andy the Poet stood pressed by the crowd against the sideboard. Andy thought, Somewhere in all of this, there’s a poem I can write. Maybe The New Yorker would run it. He knew a guy.

  Something about the irrational nature of love? Or the irrational nature of the human condition? Or family? He had the opening lines:

  I stand there amid the turmoil of

  a family not my own

  Or something like that. He’d have to play with the line structure.

  * * *

  As they walked, Audrey’s shoulder kept hitting Armie’s shoulder and Armie didn’t know whether he was doing it on purpose, like drifting closer to her, or if she was the one who was doing it. He concluded, as they went along, that he’d not devoted enough thought to the emotional impact the past six days had had on him. He hadn’t had time yet to process it all.

  “You’re upset?” Audrey asked.

  “I was just thinking about my dad,” Armie said.

  Audrey touched his arm.

  They stood on the corner of Warren and South First. Armie thought about his long walk on the night George died. It seemed a long time ago. He wished Audrey had been with him on that walk. Maybe it would have gone differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone so far.

  “He’s in a better place now?” Audrey said.

  “That’s what they say.”

  “Your mother wanted to bury him?”

  “She did, yeah. But that’s not what he wanted. I keep thinking about being dead. Like, in my head I try to imagine it. It’s freaky. Like, endless blackness for all time? Even the concept of forever is horrifying when you think about it. There’s no end at all? What if it’s just a blank void?”

  “Should we go look at the river?” Audrey said.

  “Sure.”

  They began to walk. Armie hadn’t even thought to take a coat with him. The wind gusted, but he was not cold.

/>   “Can I ask you something?” Audrey said.

  “How come I live in the basement?”

  “What? No. I was going to ask if you’re seeing anyone?” He laughed. “That was inappropriate,” Audrey said. “I’m so stupid.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t inappropriate.”

  They walked. The water was in view now.

  “So is that a no?”

  He shook his head. “Yeah. No. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  They came to Front Street and crossed over. Armie kicked a branch at the curb. The Chamber of Commerce building to their right was shuttered and quiet. The trees on either side looked stooped over. Leaves covered the stone tiling of the courtyard.

  “What is that?” Armie said.

  “Kids playing, I think,” Audrey said.

  * * *

  Charlie called the police department and spoke with Officer Garrett. She and Melody were frantic. They herded a search party to scour the nearby streets.

  “I’ll take Warren down to the water,” Charlie instructed. “Melody and Josef, head up the other way. Maybe we can get Armie, where’s Armie? Armie can go over to Prison Alley. Rey can try First Street in case they went south. Someone should wait here to talk to the police. Mom. Mom?”

  She saw her mother at the front door talking to Father Chuk. Father Chuk had the urn. Why did Father Chuk have the urn? Charlie went over. “Why does he have the urn?”

  They all looked at the clay pot in the priest’s hands. He lifted it up as though he’d just realized himself he was holding it. “This?” he asked.

  “Uh, no reason,” Ana said.

  “Okay,” Charlie said. “Let’s put it back on the table, and can you help us? No one’s seen Abbott or Dustin and I’m kinda freaking.”

  “Well, I think maybe Father will take the urn to the church. For safekeeping?”

  “Safekeeping? Mom. I know this is hard, but what are you talking about?”

  Father Chuk spoke now. “Well, you see, your mother is worried that without a proper funeral Mass . . .”

  “Oh, no,” Charlie said. “No no no. Mom! You promised.”

  Her mother began to cry. Father Chuk lowered the urn and looked down.