Children of Memories (Children of the Pomme Book 4)

by Matthew Fish

  As Andrew went to work that day, thankful that the temperature remained cool as he went about his daily chores of weed-whacking around the grave markers of those that have passed, he could not shake the familiarity of the girl that was on the bus that day. There was something so uniquely etched in his memory that was suddenly recalled back into his life by her presence.

  It took another four days, slightly better clothing, and a haircut before Andrew was overwhelmed with the curiosity that this new girl brought into his usually dismal existence. She was already deep into another book as he slowly made his way from his usual spot and stood before her.

  “You don’t have to say yes,” Andrew began.

  “I was waiting to see if you’d ever come and sit—after all, this seat has been open for the past week and I swear I nearly saw you nearly take a tumble the other day when that bat-shit crazy driver took that corner around Mercer St. and nearly hit that elderly,” the girl said as she gestured to the empty seat.

  “Thank you,” Andrew said as he held out a hand, “Andrew.”

  The girl smiled and nodded in reply but refused to take Andrew’s hand. “Anna…,” she said as she placed her glasses and book back into her purse. “Don’t feel badly about the handshake thing—I’m just not big on contact with, well, people. Not just you, pretty much anyone, really….”

  “I’m not offended,” Andrew said as he placed his hands and folded them upon his lap. “I understand completely. I normally have a problem with people to be honest. They’re all strange to me.”

  “Thank you,” Anna replied as she laughed.

  In that moment Andrew felt déjà vu. The odd familiarity returned at the sound of her laughter; at the way her lips curled and her face seemed to light up.

  “Not you,” Andrew said, backtracking. “I mean, what’s up with that old guy in the back? He is always giving me the strangest looks and muttering things about me being some kind of government agent or alien, I’m not sure which.”

  “You mean my grandfather?” Anna asked as she looked toward the back of the bus and waved to the old man.

  “Oh…,” Andrew muttered as he shook his head. “I’m so sorry….“

  “Really, Andy?” Anna giggled, breaking her serious demeanor, as she shook her head. “You’re going to fall for that?”

  Andrew laughed as he buried his face into his hands. It had been a long time since he had an honest, genuine laugh. “Yes…apparently I am.”

  “So what do you do, Andy, where are you headed every morning on this bus? You don’t mind that I call you Andy, do you?” Anna asked as she barely left a moment for Andrew to answer.

  “I, um…I work in landscaping,” Andrew began as he attempted to word it in a way that would seem the least unusual but then promptly ruined it, “on dead people. I just said that…I also don’t mind being called Andy. I wasn’t fond of it in school but the way you say it makes it sound all right.”

  “I find it seems a touch less formal,” Anna said as she smiled. “So you work for dead people, then?”

  “Yes, I mostly just keep the graves looking nice, for like when the family wants to come and have a visit. They aren’t able to clean up the place so I suppose I’m a housekeeper of sorts,” Andrew said, fumbling his words even as he attempted to recover.

  “That’s nice, in a way,” Anna said as she nodded. “I work front desk at a small insurance company.”

  “I used to work for an insurance company, doing document scanning.”

  “The big one in town, the one that all the suits you see wandering about work at?”

  “Yep, that’d be the one,” Andrew answered.

  “How exactly did you go from there to a cemetery, well, bypassing the normal ways that people often end up from that company to the cemetery, of course…,” Anna asked with a smirk as she attempted to fix a stray curl of light brown hair that seemed uncooperative this morning.

  Andrew fought an urge to help, knowing that this would only be seen as crossing the line. However, the urge was strangely there to do so.

  “I got tired of being indoors all the time and, well, at first I was fine with it, but I couldn’t stand to be around the people. They all seemed very fake, very high school…. Then I started having anxiety attacks and they just couldn’t understand it, so I’d miss a lot of work and eventually I just quit,” Andrew said as he remembered back to the days where he dressed much more nicely, but was much more miserable. “That is too much information, isn’t it?”

  “No, I…,” Anna began as she paused. “I’m pretty much the same way. I do what I have to do when it comes to dealing with people, but for the most part they honestly bother the hell out of me, just asking me questions or having me do things for them. I know that it shouldn’t and I’ve seen doctors about it but it doesn’t seem to really be of any help.”

  “I’m on Xanax now,” Andrew added. “It helps with the anxiety attacks. I’ve actually been on it for years.”

  “I tried that, didn’t really have any effect on me,” Anna said as she fidgeted with her hands against her purse as though talking about anxiety was bringing it on. “Nothing really they tried did anything for me but make me feel worse so I just try and deal.”

  “That’s pretty admirable,” Andrew said as he let a half-smile spread across his face. “These things, honestly, they work, but I hear getting off of them is pretty dangerous. So I am not particularly looking forward to that party.”

  “Have you tried any cognitive therapy?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, I can always convince myself that it’s bullshit, though,” Andrew answered as he let out a short cynical laugh. “I know that it works for most people but convincing my mind that it works is another story completely.”

  “I see someone once a week now,” Anna quietly said as she looked away to see how far she was to her destination. “Mostly they just ask me a bunch of stupid questions that they already know the answers to, right? Like, ‘Are you unhappy?’ or ‘Are you stressed?’ Who isn’t stressed in this day and time, really?”

  “Totally get that,” Andrew said.

  “This is me up ahead,” Anna said as she fidgeted some more with her purse. She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down a phone number. “Do you work tomorrow…? Do you go in and housekeep for the dead on Saturdays?”

  “Only if we’re expecting a new arrival,” Andrew answered, and then immediately felt stupid for giving such an inane answer. “No. I do not work most Saturdays.”

  “This is my number,” Anna said as she dropped it onto Andrew’s lap. “I don’t care much for phones but if you can text me that is something I am able to handle a bit more. Perhaps we can, well…I don’t do restaurants or bars, or…anything. Well, anyway, here’s that. If you’re interested. If not, that’s fine, too.”

  “No, I…,” Andrew said as he attempted to get past his surprise at the gesture and get a reply in, “I have a cell and I will text you tomorrow.”

  “Have fun with your dead people,” Anna said awkwardly, rising as the bus came to the stop.

  “Have fun with yours as well,” Andrew said attempting a joke that only left Anna looking more confused than amused. “Or…have a good day, rather.”

  “You as well, Andy—and make sure my grandfather doesn’t get off on your stop,” Anna said as she waved to both Andrew and the crazy old man at the back of the bus and laughed.

  Andrew watched as he smiled and waved out the bus window as Anna uneasily returned the wave in a more frantic, almost comical manner and began her walk down the sidewalk.

  Andrew woke up the next day and looked upon the old antique clock that showed that it was still early, only nine in the morning. He had not slept as well as he would have liked. The thought of the new girl, Anna, filled his mind with both worry and excitement—something he had not felt for a very long time.

  As he took his morning piss, he wondered if it was too early to text Anna. After all, it was later than their usual morning bus. He allowed another h
our to pass and his morning Xanax to kick in before he picked up his cell and began to write out a message. First he started with Good morning, this is Andy, but then he erased it, feeling it was too banal. Next it was Too early? —which he promptly erased as well; if it were too early it just seemed to overstate the obvious. Finally he settled for Hello, Anna, this is Andy from the bus. Sorry if you’re sleeping, I just wanted to see if you were still up for doing something today. If you like, feel free to text me back.

  Andrew plopped down upon the couch and half-watched the Saturday morning news. More bad news about the country and its situation with war. There was very little that was ever redeeming on the news those days. He flipped through the channels as an hour passed. On the kitchen table a short distance away his cell vibrated and chimed against the wooden table.

  Andrew rushed over to the phone, flipping it open and checking his inbox. Sure, what did you have in mind?

  Andrew thought about a response but had great difficulty coming up with a proper one. He felt so awkward hardly knowing her, yet something about her felt so familiar at the same time. How about dinner and conversation?

  Okay, just as long as it is not at the same time. Your place? Do you cook? The text came back moments later.

  I do cook, I can cook up something. I would be happy to. A little disappointed we cannot multitask the eating and talking thing but I think I can deal with that, Andrew texted back in reply.

  Funny. What is your address? Anna asked.

  309 Red Manor Apartments, apt. 3-1. I am the first door on the left on the third floor of the spiral staircase when you enter. You can’t miss the building, it is all red and has these great big arched white doors, Andrew texted back.

  What time?

  How about 6?

  I will be there. Nice to meet a kindred spirit by the way, Anna finished.

  That last line filled Andrew with an elated sense of that there could be something here. A possibility that he had not expected; something he had been waiting for without even knowing that he was actually waiting. Still, he had his reservations; he had been hurt deeply in the past. It had been so long, and there had been relationships in-between but nothing that seemed as promising as this. He hoped for the best.

  As 6:15 P.M. arrived, so did Anna—who apologized for being slightly late. She carried with her a large paper sack.

  “I got wine,” Anna said as she retrieved a bottle of red wine from the paper sack, “It’s nothing fancy or anything—actually, it could be…I don’t know, I don’t drink. So I guess that it could be really great wine.”

  “I don’t drink either,” Andrew embarrassingly replied. “We could set it on the table and pour out some glasses and pretend that we do. It’ll probably make us look really sophisticated.”

  “I can’t disagree with that,” Anna said as she laughed.

  “I made chicken and spaghetti,” Andrew said as he led Anna to the table. “I used to work at this restaurant when I was a senior in high school. Pretty much learned everything I know from there, so if it’s terrible blame them. Or me…actually, you can just go ahead and blame me.”

  “It looks great,” Anna said as she seated herself and began to eat, covering her mouth with each bite. “Don’t mind this. It’s something I do. I just don’t like people watching me eat. Please don’t be offended by it.”

  “You’re fine,” Andrew said as he held up a napkin. “Should I do the same, or…?”

  “No, you’re good…. It’s just me.”

  Dinner was completed with very little conversation, just as Anna had requested. The silence for Andrew was a little strange, but he understood it. After all, he had some troubles himself that he had to constantly deal with.

  After dinner Anna and Andrew sat upon his somewhat old, yet comfortable couch. Anna looked about at all the framed sketches upon the wall. “This art is really awesome—is it yours?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said as he looked to a picture of a girl seated upon a car, the night sky all around her and fireflies in the field that surrounded the small car.

  “Do you know that girl?” Anna asked, noting that Andrew had taken a particular interest in the piece.

  “We dated when I was a junior in high school. Only for about a month…,” Andrew quietly answered as he grew saddened at the thought.

  “The art is amazing,” Anna said as she got up and looked at all the different pieces that hung against the red walls. “Seems like such an odd talent from someone who is working at a cemetery. Just being honest, sorry…. Not trying to sound judgmental or mean or anything. Sometimes I’m just retarded.”

  “No, you’re fine, really,” Andrew said as he shook away the sad feelings and stood up from the couch, “I always meant to do more with it. I think I still plan on it. It has just kind of taken to the backburner at the moment until I get myself situated. Get off the meth, get clean.”

  Anna laughed and then put on a look of overtly seriousness as she quietly spoke, “My brother, he had a pretty bad meth problem. We haven’t heard from him in years.”

  “I am such an ass,” Andrew said as he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “No…no…no…,” Anna said as she broke her concentration and let a slightly evil smile spread across her face. “You’re just…I’m joking.”

  “Of course,” Andrew said as he face-palmed and then let out a short laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to the humor.”

  “What, with the art and the sense of humor, the girls don’t go crazy for you?” Anna asked as she paced along the wall and admired a landscape of some mountains and a waterfall.

  “I seem to attract girls that want me to change, or be more serious,” Andrew began, “When I worked at that insurance company I dated a girl there and she was pretty self-obsessed. I remember as we were walking back from dinner…I was able to eat out at places then, now I avoid them like the plague…. Anyway, there was this homeless man that asked for change and I gave him what I had in my pocket. I felt there was no harm.”

  “Seems fairly admirable,” Anna agreed.

  “My date didn’t. She complained that the city should do something about ‘those people’…,” Andrew said as he bit the bottom of his lip as though the thought reminded him of his frustration with people. “I said something about, you know, all people being people despite their circumstances. Something about, if I were in that position, what kind of kindness would I be afforded? Would I be treated like a dog or a human? So that pretty much ended that relationship. Well, right after we went out and killed ourselves a hobo.”

  Anna laughed and shook her head in response to the last bit. “Why do you do that?”

  “The jokes at the end?” Andrew answered. “I honestly don’t know; I think it’s some kind of self defense that comes from a desire to make people happy when in all honesty most people find it either annoying or…not funny.”

  “I find it funny,” Anna said as she turned to Andrew.

  “Thank you, then,” Andrew said as he smiled. “It has been a long time since anyone has made me laugh as well, so I suppose…thank you for that is well.”

  “That’s what friends do, right?” Anna added.

  “Yeah, I suppose….”

  “I mean,” Anna began and then paused uncomfortably, “I don’t want to lead you on or anything. I am not really looking for a relationship. I actually just kind of…well, it’s been about a year—but I was with this guy from high school that I had grown up with. We were serious, shit we even lived together for a time…. He just kind of disappeared one day. Decided to date someone else…. I didn’t see it coming.”

  “I am sorry,” Andrew said softly.

  “Oh no, it’s not your fault,” Anna said as she looked away to the single window of the apartment and stared out at the fall oak tree that was illuminated by a streetlight. “I just am kind of lost since it happened. I don’t know. My self-esteem is pretty well shot at this point and I don’t even feel like I could ever like anyone again. It’s l
ike I’m not even attracted to anyone.”

  “I won’t pressure you, then,” Andrew said as he nodded. “I mean, I understand. I am sorry that it happened to you. It seems extremely unfair, you’re very pretty and you seem like an amazingly wonderful person. I think he’s just gone retarded or something.”

  Anna laughed, although it did not seem as genuine as before. “Yeah, that must be it. I hear that’s going around a lot lately.”

  “Shit, my neighbor caught a terrible case of retardedness, started wearing cats around like winter coats and offers a golden shower service,” Andrew said in a serious tone.

  “Dead cats? That’s kind of sad actually; I love cats,” Anna added with a short chuckle despite her slight apprehension of the mental image.

  “No…no, of course not, they were live cats. He just piled them onto his body, hooked in their claws into his naked skin covering everything except for his penis, of course.”

  “Of course,” Anna said as she laughed at the absurdity of the image that formed in her head. “That’s wonderful.”

  “You can feel free to tell me to stop at any time,” Andrew said as he began to feel slightly stupid at his own attempts at trying to cheer Anna up.

  “No, I do appreciate the laugh,” Anna replied. “There isn’t much I find funny in life these days. So don’t stop, especially on my account.”

  “Do you mind if I get a picture of you?” Andrew asked as he got his digital camera. “Something perhaps I could use as a reference to sketch out later?”

  “I hate getting my picture taken,” Anna said as she let out a short sigh, “But I shall oblige. Here, let’s get a picture of me looking all sophisticated with this wine.”

  “Good enough for me. To commemorate our night,” Andrew said as he snapped the photo.

  In a flash Andrew awakens to the dim light of a new day. In a fit of exhaustion he has somehow managed to sleep nearly twelve hours as the clock on the wall now reads 7:12 A.M. This is about the time he would be off to work, had he not quit about the month prior. He contemplates taking the bus, wondering if Anna will be there. However, if she would be there, would she even want to speak to him?