The South Side Tour Guide

by Shelter Somerset

  “A baseball brawl, huh? What does the other boy look like?”

  “A lot worse than me.”

  Andy poked Mason’s ribcage. “That’s the business.”

  “Why don’t we get your stuff inside?” Harden said, scratching his nose. “Mason, fetch your uncle’s bags from the van.”

  “Don’t worry, I got it.” Andy retrieved his duffel bag and laptop and walked with the family toward the house, which seemed to grow by meters with each encroaching step.

  “Did you find us okay?” Harden asked.

  “I remembered every road. Didn’t even need the GPS.”

  “How was the drive?”

  “Other than traffic through I-90, not too bad. I always forget how mountainous northwestern Illinois is. Gorgeous. Even around Dubuque.”

  “Careful driving it in the snow.”

  Andy knew firsthand the treacherous conditions of windy Route 20 in wintertime. Early November, almost three years ago, he’d last traveled to Burr Oak Farm. But why bring up awkward memories so soon after his arrival?

  Inside, Harden introduced Andy to a woman working in the kitchen as his housekeeper. They nodded to each other. Andy at once took note of her cold dark eyes, and icy fingers kneaded along his spine. Kamila spoke something under her breath to the children. Sounded like a foreign language. Whatever she told them, they paid her no mind and focused more on Andy.

  Harden escorted Andy to the basement with Olivia bouncing at their heels. “You’ll be bunking here,” he said. “I think you stayed down here the last time you came.”

  Andy suppressed the unpleasant pang and gazed about with a tight smile. “Candy on the pillow, Harden? You’re not watching too much Martha Stewart, are you?”

  Harden’s face turned pink. “That must be one of Mom’s ideas. She watched the kids for me on Monday, and I asked her to ready the room. Mom tries so hard to make people feel at home, she makes them feel like paying guests.”

  Andy unwrapped the chocolate mint and popped it in his mouth. “I like it.”

  Back in the kitchen, Kamila the housekeeper had already taken dinner out of the oven. It sat steaming on the counter. Using an even voice, she told them dinner was ready and disappeared into what looked like the laundry room. A minute later, she returned with her purse snug on her shoulder.

  “Smells great,” Andy said with a high tone to lighten up Kamila. “What do you call it?”

  “Ćevapi.”

  Andy tried to pronounce it but gave up. “Looks and smells good, anyway.”

  Kamila left without a formal good-bye, and she pulled out of the driveway in her Toyota Corolla. She left behind a chill plainer than the swollen eye on his and Mason’s faces. Lucky that the children created a wave of energy that kept the mood uplifted. Olivia grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled him toward the living room.

  “It’s dinnertime, Olivia. Let your uncle have a moment.”

  “I don’t mind, really,” Andy said over his shoulder, allowing Olivia to drag him before a laptop on the carpet.

  They played a quick game of Let’s Go Shopping before Harden insisted they stop. Already out of breath, Andy sat with the family at the formal dining table. He watched them as Olivia, her small hands pressed together like the wings of an origami bird, muttered grace. His face heated when she thanked God for his visit. Harden gave him a soulful glance through one open eye, and Andy smiled and choked back his chuckles.

  Dinner conversation revolved around the kids wanting to know more about Andy’s “funny-looking van,” which he explained—in partial truth—that he’d bought secondhand, with no other elucidation. Mason and Olivia announced what they expected to do with their uncle during his stay.

  “He’s only going to be here a week. I don’t think he’ll have much time for all those things,” Harden said.

  “I’m up for it all. I’m on vacation, and I plan on having some fun.”

  And indeed Andy, despite the knowledge that he was losing money each day, hoped to make the best of his short visit. Across the table, Harden’s sidelong glance told Andy that he might already have guessed the real reason for Andy’s coming to Iowa.

  After dinner, the kids again insisted Andy play with them. He spread out on the living room floor while the kids fought over which games. Mason complained about playing Pictionary but relented to his little sister’s wishes.

  “Don’t you play, Harden?” Andy asked.

  “I’ll sit up here on the sofa and let you have all the fun tonight, Andrew. My job will be to make sure no one cheats.”

  They played about five rounds, until Mason insisted on a game of Monopoly Junior, and for another two hours Mason amassed a small fortune until Harden—thank God—herded them to bed. Andy tucked Olivia under the bedcovers and read to her from one of her picture books. She was sure to demand he flip back when he tried to skip a few pages to speed things along. Mason had warmed up to Andy enough they shared scar stories, pointing out their cuts and bruises. Andy embellished a scenario in which he’d trounced two burglars.

  Andy found Harden downstairs. He plopped down beside him on the sofa and breathed. “Can’t believe how much the kids have grown,” he said. “Mason’s turning into a spitting image of you. And Olivia looks exactly like….” Awkwardness reached through the cushions and seized Andy. He couldn’t broach that topic, not yet, if ever. “Like… like the Wingal side of the family.”

  “I’ve noticed that too. She’s even got the budding of your dimpled chin.” There was a moment more silence. Harden smiled at him. “You sure did run them ragged tonight.”

  “You kidding? They wore me out. I’m exhausted.”

  “Kamila’s a good mother hen, but she doesn’t enjoy games with the kids much. Wish I could be around more, but work has me busy lately. I’m senior agronomist now.”

  “Awesome. Congrats. You still working at that industrial shop? Marshall…?”

  “Marshall Farming Enterprises. Keeps the family fed and under a roof.”

  “What about your dream of farming? You give up on that?”

  Harden shook his head, grinned, and lowered his gaze to his lap. “Unfortunately, that’s still a distant fantasy. Not possible with just me and two young kids. Requires much too much work.”

  Andy nodded toward the french doors. “That man still renting your land? Dick something-Italian?”

  “Dick Carelli. Still comes all the way from Fayette County.”

  “Guess it’s a good way to bring in some extra cash.”

  “Things could be a lot worse. That’s what I tell myself. So what about you, Andrew?” Harden tapped his leg. “Expound on this tour business of yours.”

  “It’s no big deal. Just a job. Something to keep me—” He snorted. “—out of trouble. I had to find a way to bring in an income. I was laid off about a year ago and couldn’t find any other work.”

  Harden flexed his eyebrows. “I guess we haven’t kept in touch, have we?”

  Andy peered at the cold, dark television set. “It’s been a while. But I promise I won’t stay too long. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

  “No bother. Stay as long as you like. In case you haven’t noticed, the kids are crazy about you being here.”

  “Your housekeeper isn’t too happy I’m here, though.”

  “Kamila? What do you expect?” Harden snorted. “You show up in a van riddled with bullet holes and with a bruised eye. Besides, she does that silent nagging to everyone she meets. She’s become rather territorial over the house and the kids. She’s taken a shine to them. I must say, I appreciate it. Lightens my load. But don’t let her bother you. That’s her way. I think she lost a husband and child during the war in Bosnia. She never talks about it, and I’m not about to ask.”

  “I think she likes you.”

  Harden gaped at Andy. “Who? Kamila? What makes you say that?”

  “She’s taken a shine to more than the kids and the house, I can see. That’s why she’s territorial.”

  His face
reddening, Harden ogled his shoes and scratched at his temple. Feet pattered about upstairs, followed by a toilet flushing. Andy glanced at the ceiling, suppressed a chuckle.

  “It’s embarrassing,” Harden said. “I try to act as if I don’t notice. She’s at least ten years older than me, much older than…. That’s not a big deal. But still, she’s not quite my type. Don’t try to marry me off. Mom does that and it drives me nuts.”

  “I’m the last one to play matchmaker.”

  “So how’s your love life? A guy like you has to have them lined up, right? How does that work living in a big city like Chicago? A date each night?”

  Andrew tossed his head back and rolled his eyes. “Not that easy. Hard to explain to straight people. Things are different. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Doubt it’s all that much different. I haven’t had a serious date in… I can’t remember when. Nobody wants to date a guy with two small kids. Women come around with good intentions, but ultimately they realize it’s not for them.”

  “Maybe things aren’t that much different out here,” Andy said, speculating. “Guys in Chicago avoid settling down. I’m sort of dating a guy, going on about two months, but he’s not exactly ready for the suburbs or anything like that.”

  “Speaking of the suburbs, how’s your mom doing? She still sends the kids gifts for their birthdays and Christmases, but I haven’t talked to her in a few years.”

  “I guess there’s still some awkwardness there, what with… with….” Someone had to mention her name. Andy figured it might as well be him. It would sound better falling from his lips first. “With Lillian,” he spit out.

  Her name plodded through the air, heavier than the Magnetism perfume she used to squirt herself with. Harden flinched but remained poised. He clenched his hands in his lap.

  “I suppose that has changed things for all of us,” he said toward the coffee table.

  Andy studied Harden’s profile. From the side, his features bunched toward the middle, leaving those paunchy and vulnerable cheeks exposed. Still looked youthful. He resisted laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about staying away for so long,” he said. “I should’ve visited before now, or at least called.”

  “What could you do? You were in another state two hundred miles away with your own life. Besides, it hasn’t really been… that long.” Harden tried to bite back a yawn. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, “guess I’m not used to staying up past ten these days.”

  “Back in Chicago, my day would be just starting.”

  “I should get to bed. Gotta get up early for work. Feel free to stay up. Make yourself at home. If you get hungry, the kitchen’s yours.” Harden stood and stretched. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Good night, Andrew.”

  “Hey, Harden. Call me Andy. I always hated it when you called me by my full name.”

  “All right.” Harden chuckled. “Good night, Andy.”

  “Good night, Harden.”

  Chapter 11

  ANDY lay in bed, listening to the unfamiliar, muted banter and the background noise seeping through the kitchen floor. Different from the morning rush of cars honking on the street below or the sneezing and grunting of the faceless old woman who lived above him. That feeling of being someplace new descended over him as he stared toward the ceiling. Similar to waking in a strange bed on vacation, although this was no holiday. Andy had come to Iowa against his will.

  Light patters scurried away from the basement door, accompanied by a little girl’s mischievous tittering.

  “He’s still sleeping” came Mason’s voice. “Don’t go down there.”

  “Be good now, sweetheart,” Harden said.

  Maybe they wouldn’t mind if he slept longer. Unused to early bedtime hours, Andy had spent most of the night texting with Ken after Harden had gone upstairs. He still resented Ken for forcing him to leave Chicago. It was nice to see the kids—and Harden. But what would a misfit like him do in Iowa for an entire week? He’d pleaded with Ken to allow him to return to his tour business. Ken had ended their text thread with the implicit warning: “Keep your head.”

  What time was it, anyway? No alarm clock. He checked his cell phone. Nine thirty! He tossed the covers aside and scooted to the edge of the bed. He winced from an unexpected soreness in his muscles. He gazed around, rubbing his thighs, unsure what to do first.

  Sudden bursts of flickering sunlight pierced the high hopper windows, and he turned in irritation. He smelled something like toasted frozen blueberry waffles and coffee.

  Coffee. Now that was familiar.

  Olivia’s gentle giggling roused him to his feet. Adjusting his crotch, he slumped to the bathroom. The house was weird to him. Too snug and overly warm. And the basement smelled of mildew. At least he had a private bathroom.

  He brushed his teeth, washed his face. Louder echoing voices traveled through the shower vent.

  “He just got here, Kamila,” Harden was saying. “Are you sure you just don’t like him horning in?”

  “Horny in?”

  “Horning…. It’s an expression. You don’t like him being in your space.”

  “I cannot watch him and the house all the same time.”

  “You don’t have to watch him,” Harden said.

  “Uncle Andy played games with us, Kamila,” Olivia explained to her, which seemed to have shut the housekeeper’s mouth long enough for Andy to drag a comb through his hair and change into clothes.

  Dressed in his cargo shorts and T-shirt, he stood at the door to the basement, staring at a group of strangers. “Good morning, all.”

  Four sets of eyes turned to him. Silent a moment, no one seemed to know which move to make, as if they’d forgotten he slept in the basement. Kamila wore the smirk on her round face that Andy had envisioned from downstairs. Olivia leaped from the kitchen table and tugged his hand, insisting that he sit beside her. “We’re finishing up breakfast. You can eat fast and help me draw.”

  “Good morning,” Harden said, chuckling. “You sleep okay?”

  “Great, thanks. Sorry about sleeping in so late.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Harden said in a light voice. “We’re running a bit late this morning too. Fridays are like that around here. Wish I could spend more time with you today, but I have to head into work. Mason and Olivia will keep you entertained, I’m sure.”

  “Looking forward to a day with the kids.”

  “Dad, fix my iPod.”

  “Mason, I’m on my way out the door.”

  “It’s stuck again.”

  “Christ, Mason, I’m sick and tired of hearing about that godforsaken thing.”

  “Let me look at it.” Andy toyed with Mason’s iPod, and within seconds the blue light flashed. “You have to toggle it sometimes. It’s all in the thumb action. See? Mine does the same thing.”

  Smiling, Mason held the iPod in his palm. He thanked Andy, and next Harden ordered him and Olivia upstairs to clean up. Kamila followed after them. “Help yourself to whatever you want,” he said once the kids and Kamila cleared the room. “Kamila or one of the kids will let you know where things are. I’ll be home around six. Kamila will be here until I get back.”

  Broad shouldered and masculine, Harden stood under the doorframe to the kitchen, looking handsome in his casual Friday attire. Red polo shirt, khaki slacks, brown loafers, like a country gentleman. His apple cheeks lifted higher when he grinned.

  “By the way,” he said. “I kind of volunteered you to take the kids to the aquatic center in Dubuque County. It’s not far from here. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No problems,” Andy said. “But I didn’t think to bring a swimsuit.”

  “You can wear my trunks.” Harden sized up Andy. “We’re about the same height and weight. You’ll find a pair in my top drawer upstairs. Here’re a few bucks.” He took two twenties from his wallet and handed them to Andy, but Andy refused with a raised hand.

  “It’s on me,” he said.

  Stuffing the bills
back in his wallet, Harden shrugged. “I never grapple over a bill. Have a good time. See you this evening. And make sure the kids get covered in suntan lotion before you head out. Olivia especially. She’s got your side of the family’s skin.”

  With the master of the house out of the way, Andy sat at the kitchen table and inhaled. Surrounded by the house’s silence, he realized how odd the circumstances for his visit were, and that perhaps he really did not belong there. He turned to a sudden rustling. Kamila had returned downstairs and was straightening the foyer. She worked with one eye tacked on him. Circumventing her leer, he reached for coffee.

  He should probably make nice with her, despite Andy tiring of people flaunting moral airs that they failed to live by. So what if she’d survived a war and might have lost her family. Life everywhere roared as a battlefield. He’d seen it firsthand in Chicago’s South Side. People had blamed him for that. Was Andy responsible for religious and political upheavals ten thousand miles away too?

  He noticed crumbs scattered around the warm toaster. Should he ask for something to eat? He grabbed for a banana instead.

  Kamila eyed him. With his best patronizing face, he took a bite of the banana and said, “What’s keeping the kids?”

  “They clean like father tell them,” she said with a furrowed brow. “They are obedient children.”

  “When I was a kid, I’d go a week in the summer without washing. I’d be outside from dawn to dusk, like a rabid wolf, kicking up dirt everywhere.” Andy realized he was causing Kamila more distress and loved it. He took three big bites of the banana and tossed the peel.

  Coffee in hand, he stood at the bottom of the stairs. Kamila had moved to the kitchen but hovered within earshot. “Olivia! Mason!”

  “What’s up?” Mason asked from the top step.

  “A scarecrow told me about some swimming pool not far from here.”

  “The aquatic center,” Olivia shouted beside her brother. “Daddy said you’ll take us.”

  “Yup, I heard it from him too. Get your suits on. And don’t forget sunblock.”