by M. Sembera
All I could think about was Jackson’s Wren stories.
I watched Hert fold his right arm behind his head and stare at the ceiling. Always thinking Hert and I were the same, I realized we were not. No wonder we fought all the time, we were the opposite of each other.
Getting up, I said, “So you think we are wrong for each other.”
“Did I once say that?” he asked with a frustrated growl.
As I got dressed, I stated, “Maybe that’s why it took you so long, because deep down you knew it wouldn’t work.”
I saw the wince of pain on his face as he held his side and quickly sat up saying, “Or maybe it’s because you’re a pain in the ass.”
Giving a sarcastic smirk, I said, “Really, then how come I had to practically throw myself at you for you to finally do something.”
Hert pulled his underwear on as he stood up.
“You’re not the first woman to throw herself at me,” he informed in a stern but low tone.
His comment stung as the girls I knew had come before me flashed through my mind.
Taking a deep breath, I announced, “Good, from now on you can go find one of them to sleep with and don’t expect me to stay in here again.”
Hert stared at me as I narrowed my eyes and walked out of the room.
Far from sleepy at this point, I headed downstairs. I sat on the couch. Running our argument through my head, I was conflicted. I didn’t want to be without Hert but at the same time, it was getting harder and harder to be with him. Taking a deep breath, I thought about how right Hert was. I wasn’t under any delusions about myself. Still, it wasn’t very nice of him to point out all my flaws.
Walking over to the couch, Hert sat down right next to me, saying, “I think you’re being ridiculous.”
“Oh am I? Must be another one of my impulses,” I snapped.
He nodded, leaning closer as he assured, “Must be,” with a smile on his face.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned my head back.
Without looking at him, I assured, “This isn’t funny, Hert.”
His tone changed as he griped, “I never said it was.”
“Then you need to help me figure out why this isn’t working,” I fussed.
He asked, “What isn’t working?”
Quickly turning to Hert, I threw my hands in the air, replying, “Us.”
“I already explained why I left. What else is there?” Hert questioned.
I could feel myself frowning as I answered, “Everything else.”
Hert nodded, then stood up and walked upstairs. Leaning my head back against the couch, I thought, ‘what am I doing?’
Chapter 8
Stiff from falling asleep on the couch, I slowly stood up. I walked upstairs, passing Hert in his office and Sophia still sleeping in her room. Opening the door to whosever room it currently was, I grabbed some clothes and took a shower. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I saw Hert walking into the room.
Making an effort to pretend our conversation last night never happened, I said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Thomas asked if Sophia could go to her house today. She’s watching Gus’s daughter and I told her okay. She’ll be here in about an hour.”
Without acknowledging me, Hert walked to the closet, pulling out a pair of slacks.
Trying again, I asked, “What time is Dr. Chepelli coming?”
“Eleven,” he replied without looking at me.
Growing frustrated with his attitude, I walked out of the room, deciding to ignore him too.
Sophia was cheerful and giggly when she woke. Her smile was contagious. It appeared as though the Thomas’ were rubbing off on her. Smiling to myself, at the thought of my Sophia happy, I hugged her tight before getting her dressed. I carried her downstairs and into the kitchen. Placing her in her highchair, I quickly fixed Sophia some breakfast. I sat down at the table next to her helping her eat. By the time she was fed and cleaned up, Mrs. Thomas had arrived.
Sophia squealed as Mrs. Thomas asked, “Wanna play with Penny today?” then smiled at me saying, “She has her first friend.”
Smiling back, I nodded, feeling sad as Hert walked in to tell Sophia goodbye. Watching Hert kiss Sophia’s cheek and tell her to have a fun day with her friend, I thought of my first friend and how far from friends we were now.
It wasn’t long after Mrs. Thomas left that Dr. Chepelli came and went. Hert’s cast was off and I could hear him pacing back and forth in his office. From the sound of it, he was trying not to limp and getting frustrated. About the fifth time I was startled by a loud bang and then a curse word, I decided to go check on him. Glancing around his office, I saw one shoe on his desk chair and the other across the room by a file cabinet, papers were strewn everywhere and Hert was sitting on the floor staring at his feet.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him offering, “Do you want me to get your crutch?”
“No!” he snapped, still staring at his feet.
I sat down on the floor next to him, saying, “Then maybe just take a break until tomorrow,” with a light smile.
“To do what?” he snapped again, this time looking directly at me.
Shrugging, I said, “Well, we could do something, unless you planned on ignoring me all day.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m giving you space so you can figure out why things aren’t working,” he fussed.
“So I’m just on my own with this too?” I asked.
Visibly irritated, Hert yelled, “Get out of my office!”
Shrinking back, I stood up and walked out.
Teary eyed, I laid down on the bed in Hert’s room, thinking maybe I should just let this go. Why couldn’t I just accept it and find a way to move forward. All I wanted was a little confirmation that we right for each other. Instead, I caused an argument. How could I help it? Nothing was certain and I desperately needed some clarity.
With a heavy limp, Hert stormed in questioning, “Why are you exempt? I’m supposed to answer to you for everything I do but with you I have to understand because that’s how you are? Well this is how I am!”
“What?” I shouted, sitting straight up.
Hert assured, “You heard me.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I argued, “I never say that and you don’t have to understand anything I do because I never ask you to!”
Making it to a chair by the bed, he sat down, stating, “You need to know your place.”
With an ‘Oh hell no’ tone, I asked, “You gonna hit me now too?”
Without skipping a beat, Hert shared, “No, but I can see how a lesser man would.”
There was the clarity I needed and it came like a knife right through my heart.
Walking to the closet, I grabbed a pair of shoes and walked out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. With purse in hand, I headed out the back door and into my car. My intention was to drive around until the urge to beat Hert with large objects subsided but the more distance I put between myself and the house, the more my thoughts turned to what he actually said and less how they made me feel. Unsure of what I was looking for or what I expected to find, I found myself parked outside the old Office building. I got out of the car and walked around the seemingly vacant building. Peering in windows and thinking this is where it all started, I made my way around. I was startled by a tap on my shoulder.
Catching my breath, I said, “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” Emerson asked with a confused expression across his face.
With a heavy sigh, I shrugged, admitting, “I’m not sure.”
“Do you want to come inside?” he asked.
Although my mind was screaming, ‘bad idea’ at me, I followed Emerson back around to the front.
I smiled slightly to myself as Emerson unlocked the door at the front and held it open for me. Following him through the building and into a back room, I felt better that he left the door open after we walked in. The room was fairly small with only a couch and mini refrigerator
. Bags of new clothes filled the corner beside a small sink. Inspecting Emerson’s bewildered expression; I recalled Salvador’s, ‘I am here by special request,’ the last time I was here.
“So did you make the special request?” I asked, sitting down on the couch.
Shaking his head, Emerson asked, “Special request?”
It appeared as though he had no idea what I was talking about so I decided to change my line of questioning.
While he kept his distance, standing as far as the room would allow, from where I was seated, I demanded, “I wanna know what you told Hert before he left me.”
Emerson scowled, saying, “I wasn’t wrong. And the wreck was his fault, not mine.”
“Wait! What?” I blurted, feeling completely lost by his answer.
Shaking his head at me, Emerson offered, “Do you want a drink?”
“No, I want you to explain. What were you not wrong about? And what do you have to do with his car accident?” I snapped.
He slowly walked to the couch.
Emerson was silent at first. I watched him stare at me as he sunk farther into the couch. As I stared back, I noticed a small scar on his cheek and another on his chin.
Finally, he spoke asking, “What do you already know?”
“Nothing! Now tell me!” I snapped.
His eyes were sad as he shared, “I thought I knew something…” after a long pause, he continued, “I must have misunderstood. When Hert came here to tell me I was wrong and that I had screwed up everything up for him, I wanted to go and explain to you. He said no but I went anyway. He was following me trying to stop me and…and when he tried to cut me off and stop me I ran the light and hit him. I did not mean to hit him. I was… I just… I wanted to talk to you, you needed to know.”
“Well, here’s your chance,” I stated.
Appearing as though he was about to cry, Emerson confessed, “I’m sorry. I really did screw up. I ….”
All the color seemed to drain from his face as he glanced toward the doorway.
In the doorway stood a tall well dress man, his expression was stern and incredibly intimidating. Although his presence gave me an uneasy feeling, being so close to an explanation caused my courage to swell and I stood.
“Can I help you?” I stated.
The man’s expressions remained the same as he replied, “Mrs. Herterand, you should leave.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I assured, “I don’t think so.”
“Emerson is of no use to you,” he said, keeping his eyes on Em.
Holding my head high, I stepped in front of Emerson and stated, “I don’t recall asking your opinion,” forcing the man to look at me instead.
“Do you recall having a husband?” he asked.
Losing my composer, I snapped, “Who the hell are you anyway?”
Lowering his head in a slight nod, the man introduced himself, by saying, “I believe you know my wife Angelina, I am Mr…” before I cut him off, saying, “Your Seminol. The Office lawyer.”
Caught off guard, he said, “I was unaware we were being informal.”
“I was unaware that you have any business in my business,” I retorted.
Seminol took a step forward, informing, “Quite the opposite. It is my business that you are interfering in.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, saying, “You have no business here.”
“On the contrary, you have no business here. Now leave,” he demanded.
Finding my control, I politely said, “I will leave when I am done talking to Emerson.”
Seminol took another step forward, informing, “You will leave now. Frankly, I do not see why Scott puts up with you. He would have done well to take my advice and be done with you; you have been nothing aside from a hindrance to him, Rennillia.”
With that statement Seminol made his point and won the argument. The disgust in his voice, as he heaved out my name, confirmed his sincerity and there was no doubt in my mind he meant every word.
I looked back and frowned at Emerson. As he mirrored my expression, I turned to the doorway. Seminol stepped to the side, giving me more than sufficient room to walk through it. Feeling queasy, I left the old Office and drove back into town. I circled the town several times, filled with an old feeling of having nowhere to go and no one to go to. Settling on The Bar, I parked and walked in.
The moment I walked through the door, I heard a voice shout, “Ah Hell! Look who’s here!”
I couldn’t help but smile as a stocky redheaded man in a flannel shirt rushed towards me from behind the bar.
I shouted back, “Auggie-Gus!” as he picked me up and swung me around in a suffocating hug.
With his arms still around me, Gus walked me to the bar, saying, “Ya want old faithful or are ya all classy now? On the house.”
Shaking my head with a slight laugh, I declined, replying, “No thanks, I just stopped by to say hi.”
Scrunching up his face and closing one eye, he leaned towards me asking, “You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would ya girl.”
“I really just needed somewhere to be… ya know,” I admitted.
Smiling wide, Gus said, “You’re welcome anytime.”
Nodding, I sat on a barstool as he made his way back behind the bar.
After filling a few drink orders, he handed me a glass of water. I watched Gus smiling and making small talk with customers before he leaned against the bar in front of me.
“Our girls are playing together today,” I said.
Smiling, he confirmed, “Yea Carenza said she’s been wanting them over at the same time,” then shook his head saying, “Can’t believe you’re all grown up with a kid, seems like just the other day Jacks snuck ya in The Dog House.”
Laughing and shaking my head at him, I recalled, “That was the first time we went out. Man, that was a long time ago.”
“That boy was so smitten, someone shoulda beat his ass for letting ya get away. All worked out for the best though,” he shared with a wink.
I sighed; “Yea,” thinking at the moment, ‘best’ wasn’t really the word.
“Guess Roberts got himself together, hadn’t seen him in here for a while,” he added.
Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know. We don’t talk anymore.”
Gus nodded with a hint of understanding before he asked, “And Hert?”
“Well, I married him,” I answered with a laugh.
With a half-smile and a wink, he said, “Not really what I was askin’”
With a heavy sigh, I complained, “He’s Hert.”
“That good huh?” he questioned.
Nodding, I answered, “Better.”
Looking disappointed, he said, “Ya hungry? Gim’me a sec, I’ll get em to fix ya somethin’.”
Nodding with a slight smile, I sipped my water.
Gus brought me back a grilled cheese sandwich and steak fries. The smell brought a smile to my face. Pleased that I had settled on a place that brought back happy memories, I took a bite of my sandwich and reminisced with Gus, until I heard a voice behind me.
“Come here often?” the voice asked.
Quickly turning around, I rolled my eyes, laughing, “Shut up Jacks.”
Jackson laughed, taking the stool next to me.
Jacks gave a smile and head nod to Gus before asking, “Here to drown your sorrows?”
Nodding, I confirmed, “In grilled cheese,” as I took another bite and asked, “Why aren’t you at work?”
Gus walked to the other end of the bar before Jackson replied, “I was, Gus called me.”
I looked over at Gus as he smiled an apologetic smile.
Shaking my head at him, I said, “Thanks Gus,” in a sarcastic tone.
Jackson nudged me, urging, “Come on let’s go to the back where we can talk.”
Hopping off the barstool, I grabbed my plate while Jackson walked behind the bar and grabbed two beers.
We headed to the back, affectionately referred to as The Dog House due to
the fact that Gus slept in there when he was in trouble with his wife. Sitting on opposite sides of the twin bed, I placed my plate in between us as Jacks handed me a beer and stole some of my fries.
“I didn’t come here to drink,” I stated.
With a wide smile, Jackson informed, “You can’t go to a bar and not have a drink, it’s bad luck.”
“Like things could get any worse?” I asked.
“Every question has an answer and that one’s never good,” he imparted.
Taking a sip of my beer, I said, “There, better.”
Jackson smiled then winked before saying, “Okay, talk.”
Frowning, I asked, “How come you never say anything mean to me?”
“Why would I say mean things to you?” he questioned.
Discouraged, I said, “I know how I am and I know you get irritated with me,” then asked, “So?”
His smile was nervous as he sighed, “I just don’t.”
Raising an eyebrow, I pressed, “Jacks.”
“Alright, geez, you’re lucky were friends,” he declared before sharing, “When I get mad at you, I remember …”
Jackson stopped suddenly when Gus walked in.
“Ren’s got company,” Gus snapped, holding the door open and saying, “Make it quick then get your guinea ass outta my bar.”
I heard a disturbingly familiar voice blurt, “We don’t want to hang around your Mick Bar.”
Gus growled, “Pog mo Thoin,” as Salvador and his nephew walked into the room.
It took a few seconds of heart pounding shock for Jackson and me to stand.
Jackson snapped, “What the hell, Gus,” as he rushed to the door.
Gus seemed conflicted as he whispered something to Jacks and shut the door. The four of us stood there staring at each other for a moment before I got the nerve to speak.
“What do you want?” I asked keeping my focus on Salvador.
With a slight smile Salvador replied, “A simple conversation with you is all I ask, Mrs. Herterand.”
“We’re already slummin’,” HE muttered, then glared at Jackson spouting, “Back up Taig,”
Salvador snapped, “Hey!” at HIM before turning to me and saying, “Please excuse my nephew HE is...”
I broke in, “Disgusting!”
HE smirked, giving me the finger before informing, “You didn’t think I was disgusting back when you were …” before Jackson swung and HE fell to the ground.
