The Milkman

by Tabatha Kiss

  For a while.

  I walk to the bookshelf in the library and bend down, reaching for the thin hardcover book in the bottom corner. Clover High School yearbook. Reach for the Stars!, it says on the cover.

  I sit down, flip open the front cover, and there I am. I think I might be on every single page of this thing. Cheerleading squad practice. Football games. Student government. Prom and Homecoming court. Just flashing a smile for any random camera raised at me in the hallway. Strike a pose, girl.

  She was a horrible person. Don’t let the bright, bubbly persona fool you. She was ugly and cold on the inside. She had no idea what real pain was or what real life was like. What I wouldn’t give to reach into these pictures and smack her across the face.

  She got what she deserved, I suppose.

  I turn a page and find a few familiar faces. Three teens standing in front of bright red lockers. My neighbors, Will Myers and Jovie Ross, and the new milkman himself, Nathaniel Scott. If I recall, Will and Jovie were always as inseparable as this photo suggests with their arms locked around each other and her pink lips pressed against his cheek.

  And Nate… he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep smirk on his mouth. A bit awkward, a little dorky, but handsome in his own way.

  And there’s that smile again.

  I lick my lips as they stretch along my cheeks but it’s not long before I hear Curtis’ voice in my head again.

  Am I really sitting here, smiling over nothing more than thirty seconds of a male’s attention?

  Pathetic.

  The thick pages flop to the back cover and I scan across the sea of signatures. Some names I recognize, some vaguer than others. An inside joke here. A crude illustration there.

  I look at the right corner and pause at the inscription along the bottom.

  I hope you get everything your heart desires. -N.S.

  Did Nate write that? How many N.S.s did our class have?

  I don’t remember asking him to sign it. Then again, our class was pretty small and these books got passed around in just about every class on the last day of school. I signed dozens without really knowing whose it was.

  Have a great summer! -Kimber K.

  I wrote it in my own yearbook without even realizing it. I just loved what it was like to sign an autograph.

  Nate’s reads more personal than my boring platitude. Or maybe that’s what he wrote in everybody’s book. Maybe he really did want everyone to get what their hearts desired.

  But alas, I smile.

  Five

  Nate

  I still remember Kimber Kyle signing this yearbook like it were yesterday.

  It was the last hour of our last day of senior year. Mrs. Nelson’s Advanced English Lit class. She threw on a movie because what the hell was she supposed to do, teach? The rest of us passed around our yearbooks and counted down the final minutes of our high school existence.

  I stare at it now, still recalling the gentle whip of her hand as it scurried along the page. She closed the book and passed it off to the next person and I held my breath until it finally came back to my desk.

  Have a great summer! -Kimber K.

  Cliché? Yes. Generic? Sure. But I didn’t care. I thought it’d be worth something someday. We all did.

  Kimber Kyle was going places.

  I close my yearbook and toss it back into the bottom desk drawer before heading downstairs.

  Mom looks up from her Kindle as I enter the kitchen. “You look nice,” she says, her chin propped up on her hand. “Going out?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to Lucky’s with Will and Jovie,” I say.

  She lets out a quick laugh. “Will and Jovie. Haven’t seen them in a while. Didn’t she have a baby?”

  I nod. “Yeah, Joanne. I met her yesterday. She’s cute.”

  My mother leans back and crosses her arms. She says nothing and just stares at me with an amused twist on her face.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says.

  I don’t move. “What?” I ask again.

  “Reconnecting with old friends. Hanging out at Lucky’s bar.”

  “What’s your point, Mom?”

  “No point. Just sounds like you’re making yourself quite at home again.”

  I exhale. “Have you put out an ad for ranchers yet?”

  “Goes live on Monday,” she says, still smiling.

  “Cool. Don’t wait up.”

  She scoffs. “What the hell do I care how late you stay out? Just don’t wake me when you get in or I’ll put cow dung in your Cocoa Puffs.”

  I chuckle as I grab my jacket off the door. “Love you, too.”

  “Bye, kid. Drive safe.”

  I nudge the door closed behind me as I step outside, sliding my jacket on as I move toward the milk truck. I’d rather drive anything else around the town of Clover but, unfortunately, this is the only mode of transportation I have right now.

  The highway into town is mostly deserted for a Saturday night but Clover doesn’t exactly attract tourists in the first place. I glare at the sign as I pass it by.

  Clover, Kansas.

  The Forgotten Paradise.

  Fitting, sure, if your idea of paradise includes three different yarn stores but no Starbucks.

  But I digress.

  I turn onto Main Street, picking up my speed a bit to navigate past the teenagers lounging around the gazebo. Back in my day, that gazebo was off-limits after sundown but I guess the three-man law enforcement team at the Sheriff’s station realized that it was a lot easier to keep tabs on the youths in plain sight than banning them from the center square.

  Back in my day? Christ, I’m getting old.

  I drive down to the end of First Street, coming to a stop by the curb outside of Will and Jovie’s house. My eyes lock on the motorcycle in the driveway. The Bolt. Will’s pride and joy. It’s good to see some things never changed.

  I hop out of my truck and walk up the porch to knock.

  The door swings open quickly and a petite, middle-aged woman stands there. Her jaw drops as she looks at me and gasps.

  “Nathaniel Scott? Is that you?” she asks.

  I smile wide. “Hey, Dr. Myers.”

  “Rachel,” she corrects.

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “It still doesn’t sound right.”

  “You’re the only one of my son’s friends I never wore down. You know that?”

  “What can I say? A respectable woman like you deserves to be addressed with respect.”

  She opens her arms to me. “Oh, shut up and give me a hug.”

  I step forward and she wraps her arms around my chest. She pats my back hard and lingers there a moment longer before speaking in my ear.

  “How are you holding up?” she asks.

  I pull back and nod as she closes the door behind me. “I’m doing all right,” I answer.

  “And your mother?”

  “She’s keeping her sense of humor about it.”

  She gives a sweet smile. “That’s what I like to hear. You let her know that if she needs anything, she can call me, all right?”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Her eyes fall to my mouth. “How are your teeth?”

  I press my lips together. “Uh…”

  “Oh, boy.” She ticks her tongue in disappointment. “You come and see me while you’re in town. I’ll fit you in for a cleaning.”

  “I’ll… check my schedule.”

  Jovie glides in from the other room wearing a little, black dress and a blue, denim jacket. She balances Joanne on one hip and holds a pair of strappy, black heels in her free hand.

  She notices me and smiles. “Oh, hey, Nate. Will, Nate’s here!” she shouts across the house.

  “Hey, Jovie,” I greet.

  Rachel’s attention instantly shifts to the baby. “That’s right. Nathaniel’s here. So, give me the baby and go away.”

  Jovie slides Joanna into her arms. “You sure you have
everything you need?” she asks.

  Rachel nods. “I have extra diapers, a pair of clean jammies, and Chinese take-out on the way. This Saturday night is about to get lit up, as the kids say.” She looks at me. “Do the kids still say that?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea.”

  Will walks in, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. “Hey, Nate,” he says. “Mom, you remember Nate, right?

  She grins. “How could I forget my favorite milkman?” she says, flashing me a seductive wink.

  I roll my eyes. “Here we go...”

  Will squints as he glares between us. “What’s that now?”

  “She’s kidding,” I say.

  “No, I’m not,” she says. “He was so quick and punctual. Always put his milk in exactly the right spot—”

  “We should get going now,” I say quickly as Will towers a little taller over me. “Right, Jovie?”

  She smiles. “I want to hear more about you and Will’s mom.”

  I groan.

  Rachel laughs and smacks Will’s arm. “Lighten up. You guys have fun.”

  Will leans over and kisses his daughter on the head. “We’ll be back later,” he says, switching to a more soothing tone. “Goodnight, Jo.”

  Jovie does the same, pausing to poke the baby’s cheeks. “Bye-bye, Joanne,” she coos.

  “You have my number, right, Mom?” Will asks.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, get out,” Rachel says. “I raised two of these things already, you know.”

  He laughs. “Okay. Bye, Mom.”

  I wave as I walk out the door. “It was nice to see you, Dr. Myers.”

  She flashes another wink at me. I instantly slink away only to run right into Will’s annoyed glare again.

  I throw up my hands. “I never touched your mom, dude.”

  “Good,” he says. “Keep it that way.”

  Jovie closes the door behind us, cackling softly to herself.

  I let out a long sigh, partially regretting coming out here tonight as Will cracks a massive grin and slaps my back.

  “Let’s go!” he says.

  Sure, it’s just an inside joke but it’s a joke that gets old fast once everyone at school accuses you of banging their mom.

  I follow them off the porch and we head toward Jovie’s old powder blue car in the garage.

  My eyes drift to the VanHouten house next door. The curtains by the front door sway into place, suddenly dropped before my gaze can focus on them.

  I smile, sensing opportunity. “Hold on a second, guys.”

  I skip up the sidewalk and hop onto the VanHouten’s porch.

  “Nate, what are you doing?” Will asks. “Nate?”

  “Nate,” Jovie says. “What are you doing?”

  “Nate.”

  I wave to them without an answer and knock twice on the front door. Seconds of silence pass but I can sense something move on the other side.

  I knock again. “Hey, Kimber, you home?”

  Finally, the lock turns and the door slowly opens.

  Kimber stands there, slouched over with that same black hoodie pulled over her head. Her long, blonde bangs hang over her right eye, blocking those scars I swore I saw before.

  “Hey, Kimber. How you doing?” I ask.

  “Hey,” she says, eying the street behind me. “What’s up?”

  “So, we’re heading over to Lucky’s for some drinks,” I say. “You wanna tag along?”

  Her eye grows wide. “Really?”

  “Yeah, It’s just me, Will, and Jovie. And while being their third wheel sounds amazing, I also kinda want to have some fun while I’m in town, so how about it? Be my date?”

  “Oh, I’m...” She shakes her head. “I’m married.”

  “I know,” I say, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to be nice and neighborly and extend the offer. No pressure or anything. I thought maybe you’d like to hang out and catch up, is all. I’m sorry if I bothered you...”

  I turn to leave.

  “Wait, I...”

  I pause and glance back from the porch stairs.

  Kimber takes a single step outside. “I...” She nods. “Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”

  “You will?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I look at Jovie. “Does your car seat four?” I ask.

  “It sure does!” she answers.

  Kimber backs up. “Well, I don’t...”

  I hop up to the door again. “Don’t what?”

  She lowers her voice. “I don’t ride in cars,” she whispers, a bit of fear in her eyes.

  “Oh.” I recall what my mother told me about her accident. Hell, I don’t blame her one bit. “Well, that’s cool. I’ll walk with you. It’s just a few blocks.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  I wave at Will and Jovie. “You guys go on ahead, we’ll meet you there.”

  They slowly lower into the car, their expressions full of shock and awe. Either no one in town thought to extend a friendly hand to Kimber VanHouten before... or they have and she never took it until now.

  I look at Kimber and she shows that little smile again.

  “Can I have a minute?” she asks, pointing inside.

  “Yeah, take your time,” I say. “I’ll wait out here.”

  She nods and slinks back inside, closing the door behind her.

  As soon as it latches, I exhale a hard breath I didn’t realize I was holding. If I had tried this ten — or even five — years ago, I’m not sure it would have ended in my favor. Or maybe it would have and I’m just a little too late.

  She’s married. To a corporate tool. But still, married.

  The door opens again after a few minutes and Kimber steps out. She wears a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeve black sweater with a black glove on her right hand. It’s almost seventy degrees out but I don’t dare comment on it.

  Her hair falls over the right side of her face, locked in place by a light brown beanie hat.

  “Okay,” she says, gripping her purse. “I’m ready.”

  I throw on a smile and casually slide my hands into my pockets. “Shall we?” I ask.

  She nods. “Let’s go,” she says.

  Six

  Nate

  And just like that… silence.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting.

  We make it down the block before I finally can’t take it anymore. I’m hanging out with Kimber Kyle, for Christ’s sake!

  Fucking say something, you idiot.

  “So...” I clear my throat. “What have you been up to?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, looking forward.

  “Well, the last time I saw you, you were voted Most Likely to Be on Broadway,” I say. “I’m curious why you’re still here in Kansas.”

  “Oh.” She pauses. “Yeah, I tried for a while, but...”

  “It didn’t work out?”

  “Big no,” she says. “I went to New York for a few years. Did a few off-off-off-Broadway shows.” She shakes her head. “Eventually ran out of money.”

  “You came back?”

  “Crawling,” she says with a little laugh. “I moved back in with my parents. The next day, I walked to the coffee shop in the town square, ordered a huge caramel latte, and cried into it for what seemed like hours. After a while, I looked up and a man was standing over me. Three months later, we were engaged.”

  “Curtis VanHouten?” I ask.

  She nods. “He was passing through the area on business for his dad, stopped in for a cup of coffee, and the rest is history.”

  “Was he passing through my family’s farm, by chance?” I joke.

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard him and his father talk about your farm.” She glances at me. “Are you guys gonna sell?”

  “It’s tempting, not gonna lie,” I answer. “But it’s a no, as long as my mother has anything to say about it.”

  “Go
od.”

  I look at her. “Good? I figured you’d be all for it.”

  “Curtis’ business is his business,” she says. “Scott’s Dairy is a piece of my childhood, you know? I used to wake up every morning, sit down for my cereal, and the milk bottle always had your family’s logo on it.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “We all did.” She kicks a rock down the sidewalk. “And despite the many times I’ve told Curtis how much your farm means to this town, he’s still determined to make that sale. It’s actually the very reason why he moved out here in the first place.”

  “He didn’t move here to be with you?”

  “No.” She lets out a laugh. “His father was obsessed with it. And now so is he. Being with me was just… a bonus, I guess.”

  I stand a little taller, suddenly feeling a burst of that family pride my mother gushes about. “Speaking of, where is hubby tonight?” I ask.

  “Working.”

  “On a Saturday night?”

  “Every night,” she says, her voice low. “Like I said, he’s obsessed.”

  I gawk at her. Why would a man work all day and night if he had a woman like Kimber at home?

  We turn off onto the town square. I notice her pace slow down as a burst of laughter rises from the gazebo in the center. Just a bunch of kids playing around. I ease back with her and she slowly resumes her normal stride.

  “What about you?” she asks. “Last time I saw you I figured you’d be the next milkman.”

  “Yeah, everybody did,” I say. “It’s what my old man did. It’s what his old man did.”

  “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

  “It was. Still is,” I say with a nod. “I packed a bag and left.”

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere,” I answer. “I was just so sick of being Nate Scott. I wanted to go someplace where people didn’t know who I was, or where I came from, or every little detail of my life or my family.”

  She nods. “I know what that’s like.”

  “On one hand, I understand it. You have a name and a purpose. It’s right there. Built-in from birth. But on the other…”

  “It’s built-in from birth,” she says.

  “Exactly. It’s like I had no choice.”