They found what they were looking for and took them to the old-fashioned check-out. ‘Make sure this time that you pay for these items, Gene,’ Nancy said. ‘We’re not on Walton’s Mountain now!’ She looked at the two women behind the counter and gave them a conspiratorial wink, as if to say: Men! What can you do with them? The women laughed and fell into conversation with Nancy. Doc, meanwhile, counted out the money and placed it on the counter.
‘What do you think of our bear, Nancy?’ one of the women asked her. ‘It’s the town’s mascot.’
‘It’s the most beautiful bear I’ve ever seen,’ Nancy said. ‘I wish it were mine.’
Doc looked at the bear and wondered if it was the same bear Nancy was looking at. What beauty could there possibly be in a cheap-looking black bear dressed in a Crawford T-shirt and holding a Crawford pennant in its paw? At best, it belonged in a fairground: a prize for some young sap trying to impress his girlfriend.
The two women had fallen in love with Nancy: in their book, there was no person more lovable than a mild-mannered senior citizen as dumb and undemanding as they were. As Nancy walked towards the door, however, her demeanour changed, and all sweetness and light disappeared. She turned to the two smiling women and called out to them: ‘Someone should set fire to that bear,’ she said. ‘It’s as ugly as sin! And don’t expect me to shop here again! Come on, Gene,’ she commanded. ‘We have rum buns to make.’
Doc shrugged his shoulders and gave the women an apologetic smile, as if to say: ‘I’m just a man. What can I do?’
It was just after eleven thirty when Councillor Alexx Calhoun knocked on the door. ‘Hi, Merritt,’ she said breezily, walking into the old lounge. ‘My oh my, what did this room do to upset you?’
‘I didn’t ask you here to discuss my living room, Alexx. It’s Spencer Havercroft that pisses me off, not the room. This is a friend of mine, by the way.’
‘Hi, Merritt’s friend! My name’s Alexx. Alexx with two Xs.’
‘T-Bone Tribble,’ Bob replied, holding out his hand. ‘Two Ts, three Bs.’
‘Alexx is from Portland,’ Merritt said. ‘She moved here two years ago.’
‘Portland, Maine, or the main Portland?’ Bob asked.
‘Portland, Oregon,’ Alexx said hesitantly. ‘I only had one X to my name then, though.’ Alexx was an overly cheerful birdlike creature closing in on sixty. When she’d been fifty-five, a man called Mike Calhoun had walked into the bar where she spent her evenings and stumbled into her life. Mike had been on vacation with his wife and son visiting her brother and his family. They’d been there only two days when his wife informed him that she wanted a divorce: she was tired of Crawford and tired of him. In particular, she was tired of him sharing their private lives with everyone else living in Crawford. ‘If I want people to know I haven’t had an orgasm in fifteen years,’ she’d said, ‘then I’ll tell them myself. I don’t need you to tell them for me!’
‘Honey, I had…’
‘Forget it, Mike. It’s over!’
‘It came right out of the blue,’ Mike said to Alexx. ‘I had no idea she felt that way.’
Alexx had gone to the bar to buy a round of drinks when Mike had struck up the conversation. He’d been sitting on a stool next to where she was standing, and had just started to pour out his troubles. Alexx had delivered the drinks to her friends, returned to the bar and then sat on the stool next to Mike. She had remained there for the rest of the evening, while Mike told her of Crawford and the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains. ‘You should visit,’ he said.
A year later she did. After meeting in the bar, she and Mike emailed every day and talked on the phone every other day. Alexx fell in love with Mike and, after visiting the town, also fell in love with Crawford. It was then that she added another X to her name – a kiss for Mike, a kiss for Crawford and a kiss to the world. She went back to Portland, handed in her notice and a month later returned to Crawford and moved in with Mike Calhoun. Two years after arriving in the town, she ran for office and was elected to the council. Shortly thereafter, she received a phone call from Merritt Crow, who wanted to discuss the matter of horseshit with her.
‘There’s nothing I can do about this, Merritt. There’s no ordinance that covers it.’
‘Then tell me why there’s an ordinance covering dog shit,’ Merritt replied.
‘Because there are more of them,’ Alexx replied. ‘They’re domestic pets and they live among us.’
‘What’s a horse then – a wild animal?’
Alexx thought for a moment. ‘Not a wild animal – I’d say it was more of a trained animal.’
‘Then why can’t Havercroft train it not to take a dump outside my house every morning? It strikes me he’s trained it to do just the opposite!’
‘Oh, I’m sure he hasn’t, Merritt. I know Spencer, and he’s not that kind of person. It’s coincidence, that’s all it can be. What I’ll do though is have a quiet word with him and tell him of your concerns.’
‘He already knows about my concerns, Alexx. He just doesn’t care about them! He’s more worried about the paint on my house than he is me.’
‘Hmmm. Well, as a matter of fact, Merritt, your house has been mentioned by a few people. It is a bit of an eyesore, isn’t it? I’m sure if you gave it a lick of paint, Spencer would look upon it as a gesture of goodwill and maybe do something about his horse. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?’
Merritt sat there grinding his teeth and Bob started to hum. Alexx’s discomfort was spared, however, when Jack and Eric walked into the room. ‘I’m going to take Eric into town and buy him some undershorts and T-shirts,’ Jack announced.
Alexx stood up and held out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Alexx – two Xs. The second X is a kiss.’
To avoid any awkward questions, Bob saw fit to introduce Jack and Eric as uncle and nephew. Alexx insisted they sit and join them for a while, determined to bring the conversation about Spencer Havercroft’s horse to an end.
‘You’ll love this town,’ she told them. ‘I came here as a visitor and loved it so much I decided to stay. And I’m so glad I did. For the first time in my life I feel a part of something truly special. The people here are so friendly and there’s always lots to do. Last Sunday lunchtime, for instance, my partner Mike and I were invited to a neighbour’s house…’
‘Is Mike a cowboy?’ Eric asked.
‘Why do you ask that?’ Alexx smiled.
‘You said he was your partner – like in cowboy movies.’
Alexx chortled. ‘No, Eric, he’s not a cowboy. He’s just the most special person in my life, honey – he’s my life partner.’
Eric was left none the wiser but allowed Alexx to continue her story. ‘Anyway, like I was saying, Mike and I were invited to a neighbour’s house for Sunday lunch, and it was the most delicious meal you could have imagined. And afterwards, we were sitting talking when five deer come into the yard and started to eat the grass. It was so magical. Have you ever seen deer eat grass, Eric?’ Eric said he hadn’t.
‘I have an idea,’ Alexx said to Merritt. ‘Why don’t I walk into town with Jack and Eric, show them the new museum and take them to a really unusual house owned by a friend of mine?’ Merritt had no objections. ‘And about that problem of yours, Merritt; I promise I’ll look into it. Give me a day or so and I’ll get back to you. And don’t forget the open mic tonight. Mike’s counting on you being there.’
She was about to leave when she remembered something else. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to make a contribution to the animal refuge, would you?’
‘You suppose right,’ Merritt said.
‘Shame on you, Merritt. You don’t have anything against charity, do you?’ she teased.
‘I have nothing against charity, Alexx,’ Merritt said matter-of-factly. ‘I just don’t like the idea of giving money to it.’ He then brought the conversation to an end by shutting the door on her.
Bob looked at Merritt. ‘That’s an hour o’ my life I ai
n’t never gettin’ back.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Merritt said.
‘So, how long are you staying in Crawford?’ Alexx asked.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow morning,’ Jack replied. ‘Heading for Nashville.’
‘If it’s music you’re after, you’d do better staying here in Crawford,’ Alexx chuckled. ‘We’ve got all kinds: bluegrass, blues, Celtic jam, folk, gospel, mountain, smooth jazz, traditional string band and even world music. You name it; we’ve got it! It’s a pity you can’t stay till the weekend.’
‘Did you know that you list things alphabetically?’ Jack asked. ‘The types of music you just mentioned: you listed them all in alphabetical order.’
‘It’s the only way I can remember things,’ Alexx laughed. ‘The town’s growing and the number of tourists coming here is increasing every year. The day’s going to come when Crawford needs its own tour guide, and I’m aiming to be that person. I’ve been practising my socks off for months, but you’re the first person to have ever sussed me – you bad man.’
‘Jack’s not bad, Ms Alexx,’ Eric said, alarmed that she might think this. ‘He bought me these gloves.’
‘Oh honey, of course he’s not! And your gloves are just lovely. It’s just a figure of speech. I was teasing Jack. I’d never say anything to hurt another person – I’m too giving for that. That’s why I want to be a tour guide: to give back to the town a small fraction of what it’s given me, and also to help the people who come to visit.
‘Do you know the first words I ever spoke as a child?’ Alexx asked them. Both Jack and Eric confessed they didn’t. ‘I want to help people. Can you believe that? My mother swears on the Bible that it’s true – and you know something? I believe her.
‘But listen to me blathering on like this. I want to hear about you two. What are you going to be doing in Nashville?’
‘We’re going to visit Eric’s cousin,’ Jack said. ‘She moved there recently and Eric hasn’t seen her for a while.’
‘That’ll be nice for you, Eric,’ Alexx said. ‘What does she do there? She’s not a famous singer, is she?’
‘No,’ Eric replied. ‘She works in chocolate.’
‘Ooh, chocolate,’ Alexx gasped. ‘I go bananas for chocolate! It’s my one weakness. It’s the only thing that stopped me from becoming a nun.’
Jack raised an eyebrow at that statement, but refused to ask for an explanation: he wanted to deflect the conversation from the personal to the mundane. He particularly didn’t want Alexx asking Eric any more questions – there was no telling what the boy might say in reply. His small friend, he had to confess, hadn’t been born yesterday, but that very morning!
‘This house that belongs to your friend, Alexx? Why is it unusual?’
‘You’ll soon see. It’s right across the street there.’
From the front, the house she pointed to looked like any other house: one storey and wooden. It’s only distinguishing feature was a totem pole stuck in the lawn.
‘I wonder how Jimmy will be dressed today.’ Alexx said. ‘He’s got all kinds of outfits: a Confederate outfit, a cowboy outfit, a Davy Crockett outfit, a General Custer outfit and an Indian outfit.’ (Again, the listing was alphabetical.) She knocked on the door. ‘Hi, Jimmy, are you in there? It’s Alexx; I’ve brought some visitors to see you.’
The Missing Ear
‘It was really interesting, Mrs Skidmore,’ Eric said. ‘We went to this house with dead animals in it and Jack started sneezing. Mr Jimmy had paintings of wild animals in his backyard as well, and he said he was going to build an African village in it. And then Ms Alexx took us to a museum which wasn’t as interesting, and Jack said it was full of nothing and that he was older than most of the things in it. And then we went to a store and Jack bought me some underwear, another pair of washing-up gloves, a pair of jeans and a shirt. He said I had to look smart when I meet Susan.’
‘Who’s Susan, dear?’ Nancy asked him.
‘She’s my cousin, Mrs Skidmore. Me and Jack are going to look for her when we get to Nashville.’
‘That sounds nice. Do your parents know where you are?’
Eric’s excitement waned at the mention of his parents and he became serious. ‘I think they do. They’re both dead now, but Reverend Pete said they’d always be looking down on me and checking that I was alright.’ (Eric was hoping that his parents had been taking a nap when he he’d had his accident in John Boy’s bed: he wouldn’t have wanted them seeing that.)
‘I’m sure they are, Eric,’ Nancy said. ‘And they’ll be very proud of you, too. Now if you don’t mind I’m going to lie down for a moment. I went for a walk with Arnold this morning and he just about wore me out. If you see him, will you tell him where I’ve gone?’
Eric was puzzled. He didn’t know who or where Arnold was, but Doc was sitting on the couch right next to her, and he’d been the one to go for a walk with her. Sometimes, all the names confused him: some people called Doc, Gene; some people called Otis, Bob, and Merritt called Otis, T-Bone.
Nancy left the room and Doc started to tell them of the walk they’d taken that morning, and how Nancy had wanted to set fire to the bear in the country store. Bob and Merritt laughed; Jack didn’t.
‘We’re not making fun of Nancy, Jack,’ Doc said. ‘The only way you can get through some things in life is by seeing their funny side – and you don’t see that too often with Nancy.’
‘Sorry, Doc, I wasn’t judging you. I was thinking of something else.’
‘How was your time with Alexx? Was she a good tour guide?’ Merritt asked.
‘She laughs too much,’ Jack said. ‘I’m suspicious of people who laugh as easily as she does. They want to be liked but they don’t want you to know them, and so they use laughter as a deflector – like flak. I reckon I could have spent a whole week in her company and still not known her.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Merritt said. ‘People know where she’s from and what she did for a living, but no more than that. The irony of it is that she’s living with Mike Calhoun, and he’s the most open person in town. People call him Open Mike because he doesn’t draw a line at telling people his personal information. He’s too honest for his own good, and there are times when I think he even drives Alexx to distraction.
‘I bumped into them on the street one time and the three of us fell into conversation. I asked Mike how his son was doing and he hummed and hawed for a moment, and was just about to tell me when Alexx jumped into the conversation and said he was doing fine, just working through a few behavioural problems. I figured I’d just been given notice that this topic of conversation was off-limits, when Open Mike pipes up and tells me his son keeps stabbing people! You should have seen the look she gave him. And then she stepped in to try and retrieve the situation: “He’s getting help though, isn’t he Mike? He’s enrolled in a good programme?” And Mike just says: “Yeah, he’s been sent to Folsom Prison for two years.” I couldn’t help but smile at that.
‘For all her laughter, I don’t think Alexx has a sense of humour – not one that amounts to much, anyway; and she’s too blinkered to pick up on nuances and double meanings. You know how she makes a big deal of spelling her name with two Xs? Well, in the election, she had these posters made up which read: Put your X next to Alexx’s name and make her Triple X, and then had to withdraw them.’ Merritt started to laugh. ‘She had people thinking she was going to make Crawford a part of the adult entertainment industry and star in the movies herself. Who the hell would have voted for her if they thought they’d have to see her buck naked?’
There was a beeping noise. ‘That’ll be the dryer,’ Merritt said. ‘That was the last load, so you might want to retrieve your clothes and start folding them away. I’ll start making dinner. I hope to God I can get that naked image of Alexx out of my head before we eat.’
‘You sure we can’t take you out to dinner?’ Doc asked.
‘Thanks, Gene, but there’s no time. After we’v
e eaten Nancy’s going to show me how to make rum buns, and besides, it’s open mic tonight so the restaurants will be shutting early. You should go to it, by the way. I can look after Nancy and Eric.’
‘Let me think about it,’ Doc said.
Nancy lay on the bed thinking, awakened by voices from another room. There was a fluttery feeling in her stomach and she looked around the room anxiously, trying hard to anchor herself to the surroundings. It wasn’t her own room, she knew that, and this wasn’t the bed she shared with Arnold. For an awful moment she thought she was back in the nursing home, but then remembered being taken from there by two men, one of whom she’d known. But what was his name? A bus also came to mind and a dead black man who drove it for a living. But why did he eat with them, sleep in the same room as them? Niggers didn’t do that.
And then she remembered: she was at her grandfather’s house and she’d gone there to bake for him. A wave of relief swept over her, but just as quickly dissolved. What was she going to bake for him and what day was it? What time was it and what was the year? How old was she: was she a child or had she grown up? And where were her parents; where was Ruby? She never went anywhere without Ruby; why wasn’t Ruby in the room with her?
She thought she could smell the wet loam of the cotton fields and hear the familiar noises of Oaklands – Dora clattering pans in the kitchen and Ezra’s deep voice. Was it a school day or was it the weekend?
The door opened and Gene walked in. Once more the anchor took its unsteady hold on the ocean’s floor. ‘How are you doing, old girl?’ he asked.
Nancy tried to smile but started to cry. ‘Is it always going to be like this, Gene? Will it ever get any better?’
Doc took her in his arms and tried to console her. Afterwards he thought he should have lied to her, told her it was all going to work out fine. ‘No, Nancy. I wish it wasn’t so, but it’s always going to be like this. But I’ll always be with you and we’ll get through it together. Now dry those tears.’
Last Bus to Coffeeville Page 34
