by Diane Munier
I pull off the road and the one pumpkin we couldn’t sell because Spencer insisted we were taking it home to carve a jack-o-lantern and roast the seeds is rolling around in the bed of the truck.
A. R. may have disappeared in the crowd, but I can’t get him out of my head. “Who are you? What are you? Cyro says WITSEC. You say no. What’s your story? Tell me!”
“Where the hell did this come from…again?”
“You don’t answer me. You..say you love me and…we’re sleeping in the same bed!’
We sit there a minute, both glaring out the windows. Well I’m glaring.
“You know what I was doing this time last year? I’d just finished walking the Pacific Crest Trail. I finished in Canada. Over two thousand miles. It took me almost five months. That’s where my guitar got beat up. I took it on the trail.”
“Your stuff….”
“…I accumulated in Oregon where I wintered. I found this house on the internet. I knew I wanted to stay north. I liked it. This town is small, the house was cheap. It was random. I’m into random.”
“Why Spencer?”
“Because everything was planned before that. Every step. And it was a path that led to a box that was really a coffin.”
“You were dying?”
“No. Symbolism!”
“Who are the ones you left behind?”
He’s staring ahead and shaking his head. “I was finished there. I was betrayed.”
“How?”
He is silent a long time. Ned and Dusty have long realized they are not getting out. They’ve fallen asleep.
“I left it all on the trail, Sarah.” He looks at me. “It’s not that I won’t tell you, or you can’t know. It doesn’t matter. I left it there and I swore I wouldn’t pick it up again. I wouldn’t speak about it or give it another minute. I’m telling you this because I love you. But I left it in a canyon on the trail.”
“You didn’t…push someone into the canyon or something?”
He laughs just a little, but his eyes are so sad. “No. It was real, but…I’m dramatic. No murder in my past. Nothing so exciting. Very little joy actually. Nothing like I feel with you.” He looks away, his profile sad and beautiful.
“Your family, Spencer. I just want to understand,” I say.
“It’s not complicated,” he smiles weakly. “I changed my course. You can, you know. Most of the time I don’t think we believe it. It takes guts cause even misery gets so familiar it’s comfortable.”
“You left your life.”
“I found my life.” He does hold my gaze now. “Understand something Sarah. I’m not in some kind of denial. I know exactly what I let go of.”
“You let go…but what about yourself…how did you hang onto yourself?”
“I found myself on the trail. Then I had the luck to recognize you.”
“You feel that way about me?” Gosh I think of myself that first day, those first days. Such a weirdo. Surely he deserves more than me.
I am chewing my lip, an annoying habit that drives Marie crazy.
“All that time I was walking toward you. If I wouldn’t have had the guts to leave, I never would have found you.”
I drive to the shelter pretty fogged over from our conversation.
Spencer has the money gathered, the change in a doubled plastic bag. We’ve made over six hundred. It’s like the gates of heaven have opened and the manna is gold.
So we take that in, and leave the guys in the truck. As soon as they figure out we are leaving they start to howl.
Once in the shelter I walk straight to Lucky’s kennel.
“Sullivan,” Spencer is saying. “Sarah? Don’t do it. Don’t…do it.”
But I’m already back there and I’m unlatching the gate and Lucky bolts right out, runs all over the place, then turns and comes back to me, jumps and puts his paws on my shoulders and licks my face a few times. He’s got it in the eyes, Lucky does, that soulful thing like his brothers…even more. He’s good people. It was always him I was working my way to. Like Spencer with me.
“Sarah,” Spencer says softly as he approaches, and I hear him through the din.
I am stroking along Lucky’s ribs. I’m going to wreak. “He needs us,” I say. He’s so like Spencer. That’s what I think. The brother cut off from his brother…s.
“Babe…another one?”
“Yeah,” I say and we look at each other and he knows…Spencer knows.
So that’s it. The ride home is crowded. We’ve let them bleed off some of their hysteria from the reunion in the pen. Ned and Dusty seemed to get a second wind around Lucky. They aren’t entirely accepting of him, and they’re both a little jealous of letting him in, but they’re better now. They all seem a little tired.
“You’re giving him to Cyro?” Spencer says.
“I don’t know,” I say. Mom is going to kill me, that’s for sure. If she doesn’t kill herself first. But I’m not giving Lucky to anyone.
At home it’s a rodeo. I put Lucky in my yard and Spencer puts Ned and Dusty in his, then those two spend all their time barking at Lucky so Spencer does a crazy thing and attacks the fence and I say, “What are you doing?”
And he says, “Remodeling.” And before I know it there’s an opening in the fence and the three dogs are together again. We are watching them. I’m pretty starved and I’m thinking of so many things.
“Sarah,” Spencer says, taking my hand, “Lucky is your favorite.”
I gasp a little. He can read my mind.
“You waited for him. Why didn’t you just take him first?” He’s looking at me, really looking like he does. “You don’t act on it…what you want. You do what you think is best,” he says, still looking.
“Ned was the most adoptable,” I say. “He was the most likely to see he could live on his own. So we had to take Ned first cause the others follow him.”
“Babe,” Spencer whispers, hugging me close.
“Lucky had to come out last because he’s the strongest.”
“Lucky is like you,” Spencer says.
“Why? I don’t know what I do. Maybe if I did, I could understand.”
He puts his hand on my face and strokes my cheek. “You’re pure,” he says.
“I’m not pure,” I say. I reject that. It scares me that he thinks so highly. I have to tell him about phase one. He’s in it.
“Sarah…you sell yourself short. You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met.”
I think of what I said to Mom just last night…especially about getting off her ass…did I say that? I hope I only thought it. And some of the stuff I’ve done to Leeanne over the years. And Horny, don’t get me started. And Aaron…well he deserves it. Horny too. And being trapped with Leeanne…who could blame me? And Mom…she’s no picnic. But pure?
“You’re kind,” he says again, a smile so warm it feels like grace.
I lick my lips and he looks there and he laughs a little. “Should I kiss you now?”
“If you want,” I say all raspy.
And he does.
But here’s what I know. You don’t let go of Spencer Gundry.
They haven’t let go of him.
Me and Mom Fall for Spencer
Chapter Twenty-Nine
That same evening I am in my room, in my underwear, working for Aaron. When my eyes need a rest I go downstairs for an apple.
I enter the living room and turn on a light and Mom is sitting there. She loves to sit in the dark and something about it always bugs me.
“I don’t know what you’re doing with all these dogs, Sarah,” she says.
Spencer has Ned and Dusty and I have Lucky.
“Are you staying home?” I say. I know she is as she’s in her robe and pajamas.
I am on a break from Spencer. He’s noticed I need one. I can’t help it. I have to process and I have to work. I want him, feel pulled in the direction of his house but I’m trying to ignore it.
“Sit down, Sarah.”
&n
bsp; I sit on the edge of the green chair.
“We had words last night,” she says. “I was…out of line maybe?”
I shrug. “Yes.”
“I guess things are changing so fast,” she says.
I tighten up a little cause it is fast and I don’t want to talk about that.
I am staring at her.
“I’ve been thinking of moving out,” she says.
I sit straighter. “You can’t.”
“Oh really?”
“Where would you go? You’ve always lived here. It’s your home.”
She is shaking her head. She’s threatened this before, and it’s probably just a threat, but it always gets me going, worries me.
“My home,” she folds her arms and looks off, snorts. “Maybe I’m tired.”
“Mom….”
“Maybe I’m tired of living in his window,” she says.
“He doesn’t look out his window,” I say. His chair isn’t positioned to face it, not anymore. He’s turned that chair sideways and he has to crane his neck to look.
“Maybe I’m tired of looking in yours!” She’s not holding a drink, but she’s had one. Or more.
“Stop looking,” I say back sternly.
We sit there for a full minute, not saying a word.
“Are you coming to church in the morning?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. I wasn’t, but I will now.
“Is…he?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” I didn’t ask.
Lucky comes in to the living room and lies down by my chair.
“What are you going to do with all these animals?”
“It’s just Lucky,” I say. He hears his name and puts his head on my leg.
“Jace…is married,” she says.
I can’t imagine someone actually made vows to the pirate, but I stopped being surprised by older peoples’ love triangles and octagons and trapezoids a long time ago. Mom and Horny have over-exposed me to all of it.
“Hope you were safe. That guy….”
“Oh you judge me?”
“Mom,” I say, ready to bolt.
“I know you think it’s different for you, but we’re all looking for love, Sarah.”
I didn’t know she was looking for love. I thought she was looking for a drink and a dance and a good time.
“Would you get married again?” I say.
She runs her hand over the sash on her robe. “I don’t know. Right guy? Who knows. We’ve got a cute guy moved into the rental. Maybe I’ll go for him.”
She looks at me and has this face, like up my ass or something.
“Mom. “ If I say a flat out no she’ll go for it. I do not want A. R. in this house. “Are you moving?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
Money is the thing. She doesn’t make enough. I can’t support her in another place. I don’t want to do that. “Move in with Christine?”
“Huh. Aaron White has done that.”
I’m mad. “For real?” That’s an obscene commute.
She smirks and flips her sash around.
“What about you? Things are obviously progressing. Think you can trust him?” she says.
I feel the gates moving into place. She’s not getting in. Not through me.
“He’s a good person,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, exaggerated lift of her chin. “They all are in the first five minutes, darlin’.”
I’m not going to argue. Mom comes in knowing everything. She’s not a listener.
“Guess this day was coming,” she sighs.
“What day?”
“You wanting me out. Wanting your own way.”
“I never said that. Is that why you’re talking about moving?”
“Well you can’t live over there, can you? Although you’ve been spending enough time over there. Even the night? Come on. All these years you can’t set foot in the place and now you’re practically living there.”
“Do you want me out of here?”
“I know this might come as a complete shock, Sarah, but if you were over there maybe I could think of getting serious with someone.”
“I haven’t kept you from…,”
“Don’t even start that crap. You know as well as I do you’ve been slow to get out there.”
“Get out where Mom? I live here. I pay to live here. I pay for almost everything.”
I have never used this in an argument. I have never even said this in passing. I have never wanted to say it, or planned to say it. It doesn’t feel good to say it either. I hate that it’s come out of my mouth and I hate the shame I see in her face. I guess I mostly just hate myself.
“Well,” she says looking anywhere but at me, “I guess, since you pay for everything, you’ll be relieved when I’m not here anymore.”
“Mom, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, no. You see it as yours. I’m sure I’m in the way. But what about all the equity we put into it over the years?” Now she does look at me. Her eyes are blazing.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s both of ours. It always has been.”
“Oh, my equity doesn’t matter? You’re the only one with equity?”
When I took over the house payment it was three months in arrears and ready to get auctioned for taxes. Any equity had been harvested as soon as they invented the home equity loan.
But I don’t say this.
Spencer called me pure. But when does ‘pure,’ become ‘doormat?’
Me and Mom Fall for Spencer
Chapter Thirty
I am at his door. The dogs send up a howl and Lucky is agitated. I hear Spencer’s stern voice dealing with the dogs. He opens the door and his eyes take in all the crap I carry.
He stands back and I enter. “I…,” I start to say but there’s no finish so I’m standing there.
“You have a fight?”
He knows.
“You look upset, Sarah.”
“Mom. We…have been fighting.”
That’s the thing. It’s been like this.
I go to the couch and drop my things and just look at him.
“Well you can stay here,” he says. “You know that. Mi casa…and all.”
I nod. It’s very kind. I have so many homes—Merle and Pearlie, Cyro, even Leeanne would take me in, now here…Spencer. I’m very blessed. And the dogs, it’s a three-way, noses, tails, huff-puff.
“Ned,” Spencer says sharply.
Wouldn’t you know Ned is the worst now that he’s loved? Love just makes us crazy…and no love? Crazier.
“I sure don’t have any answers,” I say like we’ve been talking about something that makes sense.
He laughs a little. “No answers? I thought you were the answer.”
I have to laugh. I hope his eyes are wide open.
He is close, then closer. “Need an egg sandwich?” His brows…he lifts them, and the eyes…well you laugh. It’s all you can do. There’s never, at any time, anything subtle about his face. If he’s sultry you die for the handsome, if he smiles better get your sunglasses, if he’s silly, you have to laugh even if you’re worried about your mother and if he’s sad, your own heart remembers all the things it’s sad about. He breaks you wide open anyway you go. Well he does me. He reflects humanity in the most beautiful way. He’s an exaggeration…of everything.
Here’s what’s funny. He makes me the egg sandwich and I sit in his kitchen and wait while he cooks, same unwashed pan he used for himself earlier. “Want cheese?” he asks because he has sliced sharp cheddar, the best kind for egg sandwiches, he told me earlier in Big-Mart. But that’s not what’s funny, but this is--I’ve done this before, here. So many times before. This house was my refuge. That is the thing…not church. That’s for Marie. But this house. Not pastor Stanley. But Frieda. This was the place I would come. Before Merle. Before Cyro. Before Leeanne. Before Spencer. It was Frieda. And I wouldn’t have to say what was happening at home. I never had to say. I would s
lip in the unlocked door, go to the couch where she sat, even then, head back, mouth open snoring while her stories were on, her black metal TV tray holding her jelly doughnuts and her medicine, her cold cup of pale coffee I never understood the need for.
I would sit next to her, put her arm over me, her wing and me a little chicken who didn’t make a peep if she could help it, but who snuggled up to her side.
It was always that way as if God himself had set this place aside for me.
I slip off Spencer’s stool and go in the living room and I look at that wall, the one with the boxes of books still sitting there, a million tales already told and holding, but none of them the one I know, the best seller in my head, always showing at movie-plex two. I look at those boxes and they are slowly going away, and it’s her legs I remember, akimbo I think they call it, spread, bent. I see red.
My Frieda.
His hand on my arm. “Your sandwich is ready,” he says.
I follow him into the kitchen.
Me and Mom Fall for Spencer
Chapter Thirty-One
“Do you want hot sauce on that?” he asks me going to the pantry.
I shake my head. I don’t want anything. To eat. But I need the focus. The kindness. That’s all. That’s everything.
“You were staring at my boxes again,” he says setting the bottle before me.
Not at them, through them. But I don’t say. I like his long fingers on the bottle, the sensitivity in his touch…the musician…the listener…runner of baths…petter of dogs.
“You think I’m a slob. I’m going to order shelves from Ikea. I was going to ask if you’d let me borrow your laptop and your connection. You could help me pick them out. I know you have a lot of important stuff on there…your machine. The formula for world peace.”
“I do have that. Stop killing. All killing,” I say.
He laughs. “Let’s see, Cain didn’t mean to kill Abel, did he?”
“Yes,” I say. “He meant it.”
“Pre-meditated? No shit?”
“Yes. Hated Abel’s guts. Jealous.”
Merle again. One of mine and Leeanne’s fights. Jealousy leads to murder. Got it. But I had it before…before Merle. I mean the lesson.
