by Greg Lilly
Ruby frowned. “Honestly, I never played with Gladys as a child. She didn’t care for me or Walterene, or for that matter Edwina. The boy cousins got along much better than us girls.”
The diaries, I thought, could Walterene’s diaries have something about Gladys, something that turned her into “Gladys the Bitch”? I also wanted to read more about Mr. Sams. Maybe that was it. Walterene had accused Mother of blaming Mr. Sams for something-molestation? Had Mr. Sams sexually abused her, and Vernon taken revenge for his sister? I wanted to get back to the attic and search the diaries. “Ruby, I still have some straightening up to do in the attic.”
“Now, don’t throw out anything else,” she warned.
“No, I just want to get it organized for you. Bet you don’t know half of what’s up there.” I grabbed a pencil and pad from the kitchen drawer. “I’ll make a little inventory of what you have and put the things you need the most closest to the stairs.”
“My, someone’s got a lot of energy for being out all night,” she joked.
I washed out my coffee cup and headed to the attic. After clicking on all the bare light bulbs so I could see better, I finally settled next to the box of books. First, I sorted the diaries from school textbooks, notebooks, and Mother Earth News and Southern Living magazines; then, I checked each one for a date and lined them up in chronological order. Several time gaps appeared, and I wondered if there could be another box buried under the eaves. On my notepad, I made a list of the years accounted for and then the missing years. Walterene had chronicled more than forty percent of her life, up to her college years. I paged through the diary with the passage on Mr. Sams, and found another entry from a month later:
Ruby and I went to Mr. Sams’ Oak tree and cut down the piece of rope that still hung from a branch. I buried it, and we sang Amazing Grace and cried. No one talks about him anymore-like he never existed. I saw his daughter downtown the other day. I waved, but she just turned her head. Maybe she didn’t recognize me. All I wanted to do was tell her how I missed him, but she went into one of the colored stores, and I was afraid to follow. I wonder how they’re getting along without their daddy.
Grandpa Ernest took the boys hunting up near Asheville. I wonder if they wear hoods to scare the deer, too. He’s such a mean old man. I hope he dies soon.
Mama wants me to go to the dance Saturday night with Aaron Walters. I can’t ‘cause the girls at school kid me and say if I were to marry Aaron, my name would be Walterene Walters, and they start calling me Walla Walla. Anyway, Aaron and I would never marry. He’s too much like me, neither one of us like that boy-girl dating stuff. He reminds me of Uncle Earl, sweet and caring, a confirmed bachelor. I’m a confirmed bachelorette.
“Aaron was gay,” I said and flipped through the pages looking for more on Mr. Sams. “He had a daughter, maybe I can find a name. She might still be around.” I wondered what I would say to her if I found her. Hz, I think my uncle killed your father. What do you think? No, that wouldn’t be the way to do it.
I ran out of pages in that diary, and the next one started up over a year later. The one that came before had its little lock rusted shut. I worked it some, but it didn’t give. I hated to break it, but no key could be found. Finally, I took a finishing nail from the toolbox and jiggled it in the lock; it popped open. Flipping through the pages, scanning for names, I found a passage about Gladys:
Gladys told Edwina that she thought Ruby and I had “an unnatural affection for each other” and that cousins shouldn’t be so close. She’s just jealous ‘cause no one likes her. She thinks she’s so pretty, always wearing new dresses and having her hair done every week. Aunt Eleanor takes her downtown to Belk and buys her a new dress about every other week. She parades down Tryon Street with those dress and hat boxes like she was the Queen of Sheba.
At Sunday dinner, she sat there all prettied up, new dress, hair perfect, rouged cheeks, and Papa Ernest looks at her and says, “Gladys, what are you all made up for? You look like a hussy with your face all painted up like that.” She got up and ran out crying. I thought it was funny at first, but then I felt a little sorry for her, just a little. I never know when Grandpa might say something mean to me in front of everybody. Aunt Eleanor stormed out after Gladys; she was mad at Grandpa, too. He just chuckled at them both. “More food for the rest of us,” he said.
Gladys isn’t all bad. She’s had a hard time. Vernon is Grandpa’s favorite, and her being his sister, she gets the short end of the stick all the time. The rest of us are lucky we don’t have to be around Vernon and Grandpa together.
Ruby says Gladys is young and just trying to find her fit in life. I wonder what my fit in life is? Maybe it’s not here, maybe it’s in New York. Uncle Earl says that’s the place to be.
I sat back and thought, I’m not the first in the family who didn’t feel I belonged. Old man Ernest was a crusty, harsh guy; it must have been hard growing up different then. I heard Ruby calling me, so I boxed the diaries back and went downstairs.
“Come in here, it’s almost lunch time. Valerie called to say she was stopping by.” Ruby herded me toward the bathroom. “Take a shower, you look like a Saturday night whore on Sunday morning.” She playfully slapped my butt.
“But I feel like a morning angel,” I kissed her plump cheek, “and you’re my sexy cherub.”
“Get washed up before I call your mother on you to settle you down,” she mocked sternness.
I got in the shower and realized I hadn’t thought about going home since yesterday afternoon. Wow, I might actually start liking it here.
Chapter Nine
VALERIA ARRIVED ABOUT a quarter after noon. Her eyes looked puffy, and she walked with dog-tired sluggishness; her starched business suit seemed to be the only thing holding her up. Ruby busied herself in the kitchen preparing fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I told Valerie about my meeting with Vernon, Mark, and Bill Robertson.
“You don’t believe anything will change?” she asked.
“Did you see the paper this morning? No, apparently nothing I said sank in.” I lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke away from her. “I don’t know why they even bothered.”
She thought a moment. “Maybe they sized you up to see what kind of threat you might be.”
“That’s right, I’m from out of state and don’t have any contacts here.” I sighed at the track my mind took. “I hate thinking about him and his campaign.”
“Good,” she agreed. “Don’t let him get into your life. He dictates too many peoples’ lives as it is.”
“Val, you look tired. You okay?”
“Just not sleeping well.” A faint smile flickered on her lips as if she were apologizing for her appearance. “I have too many things-”
“Lunch is ready,” Ruby yelled from the kitchen. She fanned the scent of the crispy chicken, buttery potatoes, and biscuits smothered in gravy toward us with her apron. “It’s getting cold.”
We converged on the table like vultures on road kill; Ruby talked of planting her flower garden and of the neighbors’ gossip. I didn’t think to ask Valerie again about what was keeping her up at night.
The phone rang, and Ruby got up to answer it. “Derek,” she called from the den, “it’s for you.”
The thought of Daniel rushed me toward the phone. “Hello?”
“Is this Derek Mason?” a scratchy male voice asked.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Never mind who I am. I have a piece of advice for you: Get the fuck out of town. We don’t want fags here.”
Recovering from the shock, I replied, “Go to hell, you mother-fucking redneck.”
He laughed, and I slammed down the phone. Who knows I’m here? My name was in the newspaper, but people couldn’t find me from that. Only one thought came to mind: family. My relatives knew where I was. I walked back to the dining room trying to decide who would do such a thing.
“What’s wrong?” Valerie asked.
I didn’t want to upset her or Ruby
. “Nothing, just a wrong number.”
“But they asked for you.” Ruby piled more mashed potatoes on my plate. “I thought it was your young man.”
Valerie brightened. “You went to dinner with him after all? What was his name?”
“Daniel, and yes, I went to dinner.”
Ruby grinned, and I knew she intended to tell Valerie about my all-night date if I didn’t.
I rolled my eyes at Ruby, and turned to Valerie. “Yes we had dinner, and I ended up staying the night. I came in this morning.”
“Well, well,” Valerie shook her head and smiled, “you have Tim’s knack for making friends.”
The women let it drop at that, and I gladly changed the subject to Valerie’s job at the accounting firm. I didn’t want to think about Daniel while I still had the sound of the caller’s voice in my head. The good part of Charlotte had just been eclipsed by its dark side. Every city housed bigots and small minds, no matter how much money and culture the corporations pushed in. I wondered if a caller like that could be capable of violence.
The scene before me, of Valerie and Ruby laughing and talking, disintegrated as my imagination saw white-hooded figures spin their pickup truck to a stop in the front yard and rush the door. After kicking it in, they pushed Ruby and Valerie to the side, and wrestled me to the floor, their putrid whiskey breath in my face, fat round hands tying my arms and legs, carrying me to the oak. I could feel the rough rope tighten around my neck, the knot to one side to ensure strangulation, then the tug as they pulled the rope down over a branch, bringing me up to my toes. A quick strong yank lifted me off the ground and my feet kicked as I fought to get free.
“Derek, what’s wrong?” Valerie brought me back.
“Good Lord, boy, you’re sweating.” Ruby felt my forehead. ‘Cold and clammy; you need to lie down.”
Valerie and Ruby guided me out of the chair and toward the bedroom. “I’m okay. I just…”
“Lord, I hope it wasn’t the chicken.” Ruby looked to Valerie. “Do you feel all right?”
“Yes, Aunt Ruby,” she replied, “I’m fine. The chicken was wonderful. Derek should feel better after he gets some rest.”
The voices started to run together as they reached my ears. The last thing I heard before blacking out was Ruby saying, “No wonder, out all night with some boy I don’t even know; I should have been properly introduced before…”
THE SUN’S RAYS stretched long and warm across the room as I woke. I ran my fingers through my hair and joined Ruby in the den.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“Much. I guess I needed some rest.”
She smiled and said, “Your young man called.”
A chill sliced through my stomach; had it been the scratch-voiced man? “What did he say?”
“He said he would love to meet me. I told him I wanted you to stay, and he agreed it would be nice.”
“Did he leave his name?”
“Derek!” she scolded. “I can’t believe you spent the night with someone and don’t know his name.”
“I know his name; it’s Daniel Kaperonis.”
“Yes, that’s it. Guess he’s a Greek boy.”
The tension melted away. “Did he leave a message?”
She grinned. “He said he had to work tonight, but to give him a call. He left this number.” Ruby handed me a grocery receipt with his name and number written on the back.
I dialed the number.
“Daniel Kaperonis,” he answered.
Warmth surrounded me with the sound of his voice. “Hello, Daniel. This is Derek.”
“Sleeping Beauty wakes,” he kidded. “Ruby said you were sleeping after, how did she put it? Oh, yeah, after ‘tomcatting around all night.’”
“That’s me, the tomcat.” I winked at Ruby.
“I’m at the newspaper office; I have a deadline at midnight. You mentioned something about checking out the morgue?”
“The what?” Did I hear him right?
“The morgue, the back issue files. I thought maybe you could bring in dinner for us, and after a romantic desk meal, I’d show you how to look up old articles.”
“That would be great.” I looked at Ruby and put my hand over the receiver. “Have you started dinner yet?”
“Again?” she asked. “You eat out more than a cockroach in a
Chinese restaurant.”
“Daniel is working late and wanted me to get take-out and join him for dinner.” I could hear the excitement in my own voice, so I knew she wouldn’t object.
She pushed herself out of her chair and took the phone from my hand. “Daniel, do you like home cooking? Well, I have a roast in the crock-pot; I’ll send some over with Derek. You boys need to eat right and get more rest. Okay, bye.”
She handed the phone back to me and went into the kitchen to check the roast.
“Daniel?” I asked to see if he was still on the line.
“Sounds like we’ll have a good meal,” he said. “I’ll just have to keep the other guys in the office away from it.”
“What time?”
“How about an hour? You know the Observer building? Have the night watchman call me when you get here.”
“Sounds great.” I almost jumped out of the chair with anticipation thinking about seeing him again. “Can I bring anything else?”
“Maybe your toothbrush, if you want to go home with me when I finish up.”
A tinge of guilt cut through my gut as I looked at Ruby digging out containers for our dinner. “That would be great, but I need to spend the night here with Ruby.”
“I understand.”
“Tell him he can come over here if he wants; I still haven’t met him,” Ruby yelled from the kitchen.
“Are you listening to my conversation?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said.
“Daniel, I’ll see you in about an hour.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” His voice soothed me like warm milk.
Ruby cut a couple of pieces of carrot cake and wrapped them in waxed paper. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll call Valerie for dinner. Us two old maids can sit here and watch television.”
“Yeah, the two of you will put on your dancing shoes and be out bar-hopping before I make it out the driveway,” I kidded.
“That’s an idea,” she said and batted her eyes. “Maybe I can make some money like those girls in the strip clubs.” She shook her chest and waved her arms, stirring spoon in hand.
DANIEL CAME DOWN to meet me at the front desk after the guard called to tell him I was there. I had an uncontrollable urge to kiss him in the elevator. His lips tasted of coffee, his face rough from beard stubble.
“Glad you could make it,” he smiled, flashing dimples. “I thought about you all day.”
The rude caller came back to mind as I reviewed my day without him. “I’m so glad to see you. I had a strange call around lunch time; it unnerved me a little.” The elevator doors opened to a large room of gray office cubicles with ringing phones and clicking computer keyboards.
“Who called?” he asked, and led me down a narrow hallway to his cubicle.
I sat in the side chair. “Some asshole. He just said the usual stuff gay-bashers say behind the safety of an anonymous phone call.” I placed the containers of food on his desk. “What gets me,” I considered if I should reveal my suspicions. “I know my name has been in the paper and that opens me up to a lot of crazy people, but only family knows I’m staying with Ruby. How could a stranger get that number?”
He voiced what I hadn’t. “Maybe it wasn’t a stranger.”
My mind whirled through the suspects. Gladys the Bitch came first, but could she pull off a good imitation of a male voice? Vernon? Why would he bother? Maybe someone on his campaign?
“Does Ruby have Caller ID on her phone?” he asked as he poured sweet tea from a jug Ruby had provided.
I took a sip. “No. Hey, she only got a push-button phone because her dial one broke last year
.”
“Hopefully he won’t call back. If he does, press *69 to get the number of the last caller, then report it to the police.”
“Good idea.” I sat back and watched as Daniel ate roast, potatoes, and carrots. His eyes sparkled as he talked. How he pulled it off, I don’t know, but he looked incredibly sexy under the fluorescent lights of the newspaper office.
We finished our desktop picnic, and Daniel took me down to the basement. “An appropriate place for the morgue,” he commented. Elevator doors opened to a brightly lit floor with high shelves of boxed microfiche. The only differences between this floor and Daniel’s office floor were that the shelves replaced the cubes and there were no windows. Or people. In a corner, several old computer terminals lined the walls. Our footsteps broke the silence.
“This is the morgue,” Daniel announced.
“Smells like it,” I quipped.
He motioned to the computer terminals. “Those CRTs are connected to the AS/400 that houses information on each back issue.”
“Doesn’t the public library have the same system?” I asked.
“Close, but we have a better index. You can search not only on dates, but also on names or keywords. Do you know Boolean structured queries?”
I smiled. “You’re talking my language now. I’ve programmed computers in VB, COBOL, Java, C++, even in PASCAL; I can handle a simple query.”
“The computer will return a code that corresponds to the shelf and bin where the microfiche is. The viewers are behind those shelves.” He pointed to the far end of the room.
“Easy, easy stuff,” I laughed. “No problem.”
“Go to it, computer boy.” Daniel patted my butt. “Come back up when you’re done.” He turned and disappeared into the elevator.
Silence amplified my breathing to a gusty breeze. I settled next to one of the old 5250 CRTs just like the ones I’d used on my first job out of school. What was the date Walterene wrote that entry? Of course, I forgot to check, rushing out of the house to get here. I searched for the name “Sams” and found nothing. Broadening the search to include anything with the letters SAMS didn’t help-over sixty thousand entries returned. To get as specific as possible, I played with different combinations of queries: with a date range, the letters for SAMS, and keywords “obituaries” or “death” or “murder” or “suicide,” I ended up with thirty hits. I printed out the list and headed for the shelves to gather the microfiche.
