The Milkman

by Tabatha Kiss

  Valentine’s Day is a few days away, after all.

  I’ll sleep better once it’s over.

  Twenty-Nine

  Jovie

  I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time in this gymnasium over the last two weeks than I did in all four years of high school but it’ll all be worth it in the end.

  Just two more days and this will all be over. Forty-eight hours until the fruits of my labor are complete and I’ll, hopefully, be able to wake up on Wednesday morning to a few bright, smiling faces rather than the usual judgmental glances. Even if I change just one person’s mind about me. Just one pebble can create a ripple that reaches to the far edges of the pond. That’s all I need.

  The warm weather gave us a break and Coach Rogers has taken PE classes outside, allowing us to set up the stage and hang up the decorations a few days early. Music at these things usually blares over an old speaker from a scratchy CD but not this year.

  This year, it’s live. Thanks to me.

  Natalie, Claudia, and I stand in front of the stage, watching the third and final swing band play their audition set. The others sway with the music, shimmying and shaking their hips while I keep still and watch the musicians as they play.

  I hate dancing. But I like music. More than listening, I like watching it. Music, especially live, creates an invisible wave, like a pulsing gust of wind. You can feel it on your skin, seeping into the depth of you to shake and rattle your bones — but only if the musician really cares. Anyone can play a few notes. It takes an artist to play a song.

  Out of the three we’ve seen today, this band has convinced me the most. The sound is a little sloppier than the first band — far better than the second — but the musicians here are having the most fun out of all of them.

  Fun is kind of the point, after all.

  Natalie nudges my ribs, pulling me out of my muted trance and I smile to signal my enjoyment. The song ends and the instruments lower while the three of us break out in applause.

  The band leader stands up from his keyboard and wipes the sweat beneath the brow of his hat. “So, whaddya think?” he asks.

  Natalie and Claudia look at me, their eyes slightly twitching with nerves, as if their opinions aren’t valid until I give mine. It’s strange, to say the least. I’ve never been that girl before; the one everyone looks at first to set the trend.

  “That was excellent,” I say.

  Natalie nods with enthusiasm. “Ahh! It was awesome!”

  “So great!” Claudia adds.

  The band sighs with relief and a few of them exchange high-fives with each other. They must be new to the world of professional gigs but that just makes them a little more endearing.

  “In fact,” I say, “I think you’ve got the job.”

  His jaw drops. “Really?”

  I glance to the girls and they instantly fall in line, bobbing on their toes and smiling wide.

  “Yes!” Natalie says, stepping forward. “So, you’re available on Tuesday, right?”

  I ease away, letting her take care of the details with them as my insides rumble a little more in my chest. The rhythm lingers for several moments as I stand over the corner table with long ribbons that still need to be sliced for the streamers. For a second, I catch a phantom whiff of cigarette smoke and gin.

  One blink and it’s gone.

  Natalie’s squeal beside me brings me out of it. “Getting a band was such a good idea!” she says, staring at them across the gym as they pack away their instruments.

  I pick up a pair of nearby scissors. “Well, with a theme like this, you need live jazz.”

  “I can’t wait to see the look on Sara’s face when she realizes how right you were.”

  I chuckle. “You and me both.”

  “Okay…” She picks up the clipboard sitting on the table. “What else do we need to get done?”

  I glance around the gym. “Tonight, we needed to book the band…”

  “Check!” she says, scratching it off the list.

  “Finish hanging the streamers...”

  She flicks her pen again. “Almost check!”

  “Did you talk to Lucky about donating ice?”

  “This morning.” She nods, checking it off. “She’s having twenty bags dropped off an hour before the dance.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  “That was more than enough last year but the RSVPs this year are crazy,” she says.

  I shrug. “People must love USO stuff.”

  “Oh, it’s not the theme. People are freaking out because word kinda sorta got out that there’s going to be a band. Pretty sure the last instrument played around here was the organ at Maude Granger’s funeral last summer.” She nudges my ribs again. “You may just be the cupid who saved Valentine’s, Jovie.”

  “Really?” I ask, letting my grin take over.

  “Or they just want to see in person how badly the committee will screw up now that you’re on board. It’s a real toss-up.”

  My smile fades. “Yeah, that’s equally as probable.”

  “I’m kidding.” She chuckles for a second, then stops. “Sort of.”

  I trim another piece of ribbon and set the scissors down. “Okay, the band, streamers, ice… that just leaves pulling the last few tables out of the storage room beneath the stairwell and…” I groan, “finding myself a dress.”

  “And shoes!” She points a finger at me. “Never neglect the footwear.”

  “Okay, that just leaves tables, a dress, and shoes.”

  She flashes a wink. “And when are you squeezing in the quickie?”

  I blink. “The what?”

  Two thick arms wrap around me from behind.

  I yelp as my toes dangle several inches off the floor and my heart leaps from the sudden upward motion. I twist my head around to see his handsome face grinning at me and my pulse relaxes.

  “Will, what are you doing?” I ask, my voice echoing across the gym.

  He sets me back down but holds me close to kiss my cheek. “Five-thirty, right?” he asks. “We need to swing by your dad’s house for your stuff before he gets off his weekend shift.”

  “Oh, right…” I glance at the unfinished decorations. “We’re actually really swamped here. May have to do it some other time.”

  “Jove, either we pick up more of your clothes tonight or you have to learn how to use my washing machine,” he says.

  I shudder. “You mean it’s not just a big vibrating house that’s fun to sit on?”

  He smirks. “Not always.”

  “Boo.” I pout. “Well, if anyone can make fabric softener seem sexy, it’s you.”

  “Oh, just wait until I teach you about bleach. It’ll drive you crazy.”

  I laugh and reach for the scissors across the table but Natalie snatches them first.

  “Go,” she says, nodding toward the exit. “Claudia and I will finish hanging the streamers.”

  “You sure?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “There’s really not much left to do tonight and you two are bordering on so-cute-it’s-gross right now, so…” She waves her hands. “Go. Shoo. We’ll meet up here tomorrow night to make the finishing touches and then we’ll stay late to re-do the things that Sara doesn’t sign off on… which is always basically everything.”

  I step away from the table. “Okay, sounds good.”

  Will grins. “Thanks, Natalie.”

  “You’re welcome, Will.” She smiles back and swings to the other end of the table to get started.

  “Got everything?” Will asks me.

  I check my pockets, feeling into my jacket for my wallet. “Yes,” I answer.

  “Good.” He glances over my shoulder at Natalie with sly eyes. “So, what was that about a quickie?”

  “Slow down, Will,” I tease. “Just because we are in high school again doesn’t mean it has to be like high school again.”

  “Oof!” He winces with amusement. “Well played, Ross.”

  I start walking toward the
side doors. “Besides, I’d rather get my stuff before Hank gets home. It’ll be simpler that way.”

  “No, you’re right.” He throws his arm around my neck and pulls me in to kiss my cheek. “I like to take my time anyway.”

  “Oh, I know…”

  “Getting grosser.”

  We turn back to look at Natalie’s shaking head and I stick out my tongue at her as we exit outside.

  Thirty

  Will

  Hank Ross’ house is like a time capsule.

  Not that I spent much time here to begin with. Jovie always insisted on meeting me outside instead of me coming to the door. Hank’s hatred of me aside, I think she was just embarrassed about where she came from. I honestly never asked.

  It’s a small house, about twice as small as mine and I live by myself. The cramped living room is barely large enough for the couch and chair that sits inside. The kitchen hasn’t been upgraded in at least two decades. An entire house locked in time.

  I follow Jovie to her bedroom, my eyes instantly rising to the set of photos lining the short hallway wall. Newborn baby Jovie. Teething Jovie. Second birthday Jovie. Dimpled cheeks and little brown eyes.

  I pause on the last one. Toddler Jovie sitting on her mother’s lap in what’s obviously a hospital bed.

  Joanne. I stare at her cheekbones and the way her smile curls to one side, just like Jovie’s does. She holds a picture book with cartoon dinosaurs in front of them, keeping little Jovie occupied. IV tubes stick out the back of her hand and a red bandanna sits loosely on her head.

  “Will.”

  I pull my eyes away to glance at Jovie, admiring the similar structure and beauty in their faces.

  “Come on.” She taps her nail against the door. “I don’t have much. It won’t take long.”

  I point to the picture. “You look just like her.”

  “So I hear.”

  She ducks back inside her room and I know not to bring it up again.

  As I enter the room, Jovie yanks two old suitcases out from under the bed and lays them open on top. “Okay, so, it’s mostly just clothing,” she says.

  I scan the walls. They’re a faded pink color, no doubt left over from when this was her nursery. It’s covered up now by various posters and photos of cities and places around the world Jovie always talked about going to.

  Jovie retreats into her closet and starts sifting through the hangers.

  I walk to the dresser in the corner. “Anything from here?” I ask.

  “Everything in the top drawer.”

  I slide it open and smirk at the multi-colored delicates hidden inside. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Stop it.” She chuckles. “Don’t even know if it all fits anymore.”

  “Well, can I watch you test them out?” I joke.

  “Sure.”

  I snatch up as many panties and bras as I can in my hands and drop them into an open suitcase.

  “You know,” I say, “I’d be more than happy to lend you some money to—”

  “No.”

  “—buy some new clothes.”

  Jovie exhales as she carries out a stack of shirts. “I don’t want to rely on anybody for this. I’ll save up and buy them myself.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “You’ve done enough, Will. I’ve already compromised my morals on my car repairs and the rent situation.”

  “Jove—”

  “Just let me have this.” She pushes her hands downward with flat palms as if to put an end to the conversation.

  I nod. “Okay. I respect your boundaries.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What about the books?” I ask, pointing to the shelf.

  Jovie pauses and bites her lip. “No.”

  “CDs?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, maybe point out the stuff you do want, then.”

  She glances around and shrugs. “It’s weird.”

  “What is?”

  “I don’t know. Spend a few years without it and you realize just how much you don’t need it.”

  I smirk. “You talking about the stuff or me?”

  She blinks. “The stuff.”

  “I know. I was just kidding.” I grab another fistful of underwear to toss inside the case, slowly realizing that Jovie hasn’t stop staring at me. “What?” I ask.

  She drifts closer, never once taking her eyes off mine. “Will, I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t need you. That might sound strange, given the circumstances, but…” she shakes her head, “there wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think…”

  Her voice fades and her face falls as she takes a step back.

  “We should hurry,” she says, turning toward the closet again.

  I stand still, immersed in the moment with her. One brick from a great wall just crumbled to pieces in front of me and it was more beautiful than I could have imagined.

  Jovie’s blank slate is starting to fill in. If I don’t encourage it, she may erase it and I’ll never see that look in her eyes again.

  I move silently toward her and she slouches in shame but I nudge her chin up to make her look at me. I hold her close, gently wrapping my arms around her and staring down into the same little, brown eyes as those photos.

  Jovie smiles, so subtle and quick that it’s barely even there at all. But I saw it. It was meant for me, after all.

  I lay a kiss on the tip of her nose and she rests her head on my chest. Her hair tickles my senses and I inhale a deep breath as her hands latch together behind my back.

  After a few seconds, she squeezes tighter and buries her face in me a little bit more.

  Given the circumstances, it does sound strange. I spent years thinking that Jovie was done with me. That she didn’t need me. But I was wrong.

  Jovie turns her head up and I kiss her.

  “Let’s go home,” I say.

  She smiles again and nods as she releases her hold on me. “I’ll come back some other time for the rest of it,” she says. “Fill a few boxes and sell it off. Or give it away. Good karma can only help me right now…”

  I step back to give her space.

  She carries another stack of clothes from the closet and dumps it into the overflowing cases.

  “I think that’s it for these,” I say. I fold it closed, fighting with a few long sleeves poking out the sides before latching it.

  Jovie zips the other one closed. “I’ll take another quick look around and meet you outside.”

  I nod and grab both by the handles. “All right.”

  “Will…”

  I pause by the door as she walks over to me. She cups my face, drawing me down for another soft and slow kiss.

  “Thank you,” she tells me.

  My heart skips against my ribs. I say nothing, flashing only the quick smirk that I know she loves, as I step out to head for the front door.

  I walk out to her car, letting the grin take over my face, as the dull roar of a pick-up truck rolls into the driveway beside me.

  Hank’s black pick-up truck.

  I straighten up and drop the smile as I pop the trunk to set the suitcases inside.

  He parks and hops down with a six-pack of beer in one hand, sneering at me beneath his trimmed mustache. “William,” he says.

  I close the trunk. “Hey, Hank.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Just helping Jovie pack some things.”

  He scoffs. “Yeah, I heard my daughter got engaged… from a stranger at the gas station.”

  Dammit, Jove.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “It was a pretty sudden thing.”

  “What’d you do? Knock her up again?”

  I blink. “No…”

  He grunts as he continues toward the front door. “Well, either way, she’s your problem now. Good luck to ya.”

  “Yeah.” I stare past him. “Later, Hank.”

  His feet stomp up the porch and I watch the awkward moment as Jovie passes by
him through the front door.

  “Hey…” she says with a few pairs of old shoes dangling from her fingertips.

  Hank says nothing. He gives her a nod and closes the door behind him.

  Jovie picks up her pace toward me. “Yikes. Did you talk to him?” she asks, wincing.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d he say?”

  I force a breath as I realize I stopped breathing. “Not much.”

  She pauses on my face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I clear my throat, “I’m fine.”

  Her smile returns and she kisses my cheek. “Then, let’s go home.”

  I look into those little, brown eyes again as a chill creeps up my spine.

  I nod. “Let’s go home.”

  Thirty-One

  Will

  It’s Valentine’s Day.

  There’s been a buzz in the air all day long, one so strong that it even infected the manly grease monkeys of Marv’s Auto Repair. Talk of suit rentals and dinner reservations before the big dance plagued every conversation between oil changes and tire rotations. I can’t remember the last time the town was this excited for it and here I am, obsessing over one little word that fell from Hank Ross’ mouth two days ago.

  He said again.

  I pace our living room alone, nervously adjusting the cuffs on my suit. Our. The home I now share with Jovie Ross. It’s the life I’ve imagined since the day I bought it, to be honest. We wake up together. Brush our teeth together. Hop in the shower and fool around before work together. One solid step forward to building the future I always wanted with her. Love. Marriage.

  A family.

  “Okay, I think I’m ready…”

  Jovie steps out of the hallway and my breath catches in my throat.

  She wears a red dress. The flared skirt sits just above her ankles, high enough to show off the shiny, silver heels on her feet. Thick straps keep it tied off behind her neck with ribbons trailing down her back. She’s showing cleavage but not enough to cause a fuss. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders in quick, perfect wisps. Elegant but still wild. Still my Jovie.