Whitman River

by Maeve Ashfeld

  Whitman River

  Whitman River

  by

  Maeve Ashfeld

  Copyright © 2019 Maeve Ashfeld

  Cover design by Rebecacovers

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher.

  First edition.

  Contents

  The Old Man

  The Letter

  The Red Chameleon

  The Office

  The Visitor

  The Young Man

  The Funeral

  The Possum Demon

  The Old Memories

  The Escape

  The Withdrawal

  The New Memories

  The Whitman River

  The Couple

  The Applause

  The Lost Items

  The Money

  The Bath

  The Two Women

  The Release

  The Showdown

  The Sample

  From the Author

  The Old Man

  The old man sat quietly in his living room drinking coffee and watching his show for what would be the last time. He held his coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. He had every plan to write his daughter a letter but he was distracted by what was going on on the television. A knock at the door startled the man to his feet, groaning. His bones creaked and stiffened as he shuffled to the door.

  It's a little late for visitors.

  “Who's there?”

  There wasn't a reply. He turned the knob and opened the door.

  “Well hello. To what do I owe this surprise?”

  In the doorway stood a young man. He was about thirty years old and lived in the next town over. Sometimes, they would have lunch together.

  “I thought that I would come to you this time. Besides, I've brought dinner,” the young man said, holding up bags.

  “Have a seat and I'll join you in a moment.” The old man shuffled towards the kitchen and opened a few bottles. He counted the pills off and put them in a small cup.

  “You making yourself a cocktail?” the young man asked from the sofa.

  “Oh hush.” He made a glass of water and sat next to the young man. “You're going to be old one day, you know.”

  “My apologies.” The man pointed towards the pen and paper sitting on the arm of the chair. “What are you writing?”

  “Just another letter.”

  The man's left eye twitched. “Oh, that's nice.”

  “Yep. So what do we have here?”

  The young man opened the bags and set the styrofoam boxes down. The old man could see curls of steam floating away from the plates.

  “Well, I hope you brought your antacids.”

  The old man lifted his cup and shook it.

  “Alright. We’ve got vegetable tikka masala for you. Molai kofta for me. And a couple of veggie samosas.” He handed the old man one of the boxes.

  When he flipped open the lid, the room filled with the aroma of garam masala and cumin. He could feel the saliva building up under his tongue. He couldn’t wait to try it.

  “How’d you manage to keep it hot the whole drive here? That was, what, an hour and a half?”

  “I drove fast. Dig in.”

  The old man grabbed his food and started eating. The curry was creamy and flavorful. It paired well with the rice and slice of naan. After a few bites, he threw back his cocktail. It was difficult to swallow so many pills but he did what he had to to keep the ticker ticking. The young man flipped through a few channels and settled on a show about machinery.

  “So, you hear back from your kid?”

  The old man pushed his food around, “Nope, not yet.”

  “Well, you know the postman takes his time.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The old man stared into the distance. He knew how it wasn’t just the postman's fault. His letters had been returned for years. He had stopped for a while. But recently decided to write again. It had been weeks and he still hadn’t heard back.

  “You should eat up before it gets cold.”

  The old man was pulled back to reality. He took a few more spoonfuls. After a while, his stomach started to hurt. Must be the spices. He took a few drinks of his water and kept eating.

  “You think there’s any truth to these shows?” The young man nodded towards the television. The hosts were bantering back and forth about tractors.

  “Oh sure. The technology is a bit dated but it checks out. Not too much you can do with these kinds of machines. No need to reinvent the wheel, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  They continued watching the show. The old man’s chest burned and he felt his stomach cramp up.

  “You alright?”

  “Yes. This isn’t my first rodeo with Southeast Asian food.” He chuckled.

  When the young man looked away, he shifted his weight in an attempt to quell the pain. He scraped the bottom of his plate to get the very last of the curry and rice. He sopped up the remainder with a piece of naan. His fingertips began to tingle.

  “Listen, I think I gotta go to the bathroom, to be frank.”

  “No problem. I’ll head out. Let me know if you hear back from your daughter.”

  “You will be the first to know.”

  “I bet.”

  He couldn’t wait around while his friend left. He slowly stood and made his way to the restroom. He shut the door and sat on the toilet. He was doubled over because of the pain in his stomach. He grabbed the sink to steady himself and held on as he squeezed. It came out like water. He could feel tears in the wells of his eyes. Eventually, the flow stopped but the pain didn’t. He leaned to wipe and the tissue was covered in red.

  I’ve got to get help.

  When he stood to leave the restroom, his head was swimming. He grasped desperately at the walls as he made his way towards the front of the house. He tried to call 911 but there was no dial tone when he picked up the phone.

  Where’s my cell phone?

  He fell over in pain. He couldn’t move. The rest of the world around him spun. In the blur, he could see two figures standing in the doorway. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. The figures were still there.

  “Glenna?”

  His voice was weak and faded into the darkness with the rest of the world.

  The Letter

  Glenna balanced four bags of groceries and the mail in her arms as she struggled to open the apartment door. She could feel the bags digging into her skin.

  This is stupid.

  The latch clicked and the door flung open in front of her.

  Albert always makes it looks so easy.

  She collected herself and unloaded everything. This would be the first time she’s been able to make something for Albert on his birthday. She’d managed to get a “sick” day at the same time as one of his meetings. It would be a little while before he got home.

  “Whatcha makin’?”

  Glenna yelped and turned.

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  “They let you out early when it’s your birthday. So,” he kissed Glenna on her forehead. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Well, it was going to be a surprise. But, I’m making you that dinner we had at the restaurant on fifth a few months ago.”

  “Oh, well, that’s nice.”

  “W
hat? What’s wrong? I thought you loved that place?”

  “I was thinking maybe we could have spaghetti like my mom always makes.”

  “It’s been six years and I’ve literally never met your mother. How am I supposed to know she makes spaghetti for you?”

  Albert shrugged and grabbed a canned soda out of the fridge. “It’s weird that I haven’t gotten a birthday card from her this year.”

  “Oh! Right.” Glenna walked over to the table and sorted through the mail. “I picked up the mail on the way in.”

  “What, why?”

  “You always get it. I wanted to pick it up so you didn’t have to for once.” Glenna smiled.

  Albert waited as she looked over things.

  “Bills, coupons, spam, spam… Here they are. One letter from your mother and one from Robert Whitman. Wait, this one’s for me.” She could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

  Albert peeked over Glenna’s shoulder.

  “You should open it up.”

  “Why? He hasn’t written to me in years. And, all of a sudden…”

  Albert reached for the letter. “Let me read it to you, then.”

  Glenna snatched it away, “No. I mean, I don’t know that I want to know what it says.”

  “Then let me shred it.”

  She handed him the rest of the mail, “You know, all of that shredding isn’t necessary.”

  “Sure it is. They can pull all of our info from discarded mail.”

  “Who is they?”

  “Anybody, babe. Literally anyone. Once it’s in the garbage, it’s free game.”

  “Albert,” she put her hand to her temples. “If they wanted our information, they would already have it.”

  “Uh huh. I’m going to take care of this other junk and write my mom back. Let me know how the letter goes.”

  He walked off towards the hall and to the office. He shut the door behind him.

  Glenna looked at the letter. The addresses were written in her father’s scratchy handwriting. The letters resembled that of a mad scientist. This was why Glenna was never able to forge his signature in school. Instead, just got her best friend to do it. Soon enough Jody had it down and Glenna was able to watch PG films and go on field trips. It’s not like he noticed her gone, anyway.

  His handwriting had gotten a little shakier than it used to be.

  She put the letter on the table. The whirring and crunching sounds of Albert’s shredder came from the hallway. She looked at the pile of groceries and felt defeated.

  “Hey babe, you want to go out for spaghetti?”

  Glenna’s beer sat on the side of the table. It seemed to be as nervous and sweaty about the letter as she was. She put the beer to her lips and took a swig.

  The letter was folded into thirds and covered in coffee stains. Lots of places were marked through and rewritten.

  Glenna,

  It has been far too long since I’ve last heard from you. Though it is not for a lack of trying to make contact.

  Glenna rolled her eyes and took two big gulps of the beer.

  So many years have been lost.

  “Yeah, seven years.”

  Seven, to be exact.

  Over that time I have tried to find the words that express how I feel. I’ve written this same letter so many times. However, feelings have always proved difficult for me. For that, I am deeply sorry. I tried to express my love for you the best way that I knew how - by providing for you. I now realize that it wasn’t enough.

  I do not want to make up for the lost time. That is futile. I’d like to go forward. There are things that I’d like to talk about. Things that I couldn’t talk about because I didn’t know how. Some many things that I never told you about because I There are people I’d want for you to meet.

  I’d like to be a part of your life. In whatever way you have room for.

  No pressure, of course. And, if you don’t want to move forward, that’s okay. Just, please forgive me for. I’d love to hear from you.

  - Robert

  Also, I do love you. More than you know. You are worth your weight in kinase inhibitors. If you ever find the time to visit. I have something to give you. I’d like to visit you sometime soon.

  She folded the letter back and put it in the envelope. She wasn’t sure if she should write him back.

  Maybe I’ll sleep on it.

  She left the envelope on the table.

  Sleeping didn’t come easy for Glenna. But she crawled into bed and tossed until sleep finally met her.

  Glenna woke and slowly shuffled to the kitchen. Her head felt like it was going to explode. She had barely slept because she didn’t want to mix her sleeping medication with alcohol. That meant that she was dehydrated, sleepy as hell, and hungover.

  I don’t know why I still try to drink.

  She closed the blinds and started a pot of coffee.

  “Hey, babe,” Albert said as he walked in and flicked on one of the lights.

  Glenna flinched, “Agh.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The light,” Glenna shielded her eyes and cut the lights back off.

  “Yikes. Sorry.”

  “I feel like I’m going to puke.”

  “Ew. Well, that coffee should help. And pick up some greasy hash browns on your way in.”

  “I’m not going. I’ve already texted my boss.”

  Albert looked over at her. “You’re not?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, listen. Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll bring you your coffee and stay home with you.”

  “No, please don’t do that.”

  “It’s fine, babe.”

  “No, seriously. We need the money. And you have a client today.”

  Albert grabbed her shoulders and walked her to the living room. “It’s fine. I can just reschedule my meeting today.”

  “Albert.”

  “Glenna.”

  She plopped down on the sofa.

  “I’ll bring you a blanket.”

  She scooted into the sofa and looked around the room. The apartment was tiny, but they had so much stuff. So many unnecessary gadgets. And the bills kept coming. She felt guilty for taking a day off.

  Albert walked backed in the room and bundled Glenna up.

  “How do we even afford all of this?”

  “Just like everyone else. We live way above our means.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Coffee should be ready.”

  He brought back a cup of coffee and placed it on the table. Glenna spotted the letter from Robert beside it. It was opened. She furrowed her eyebrows.

  “Oh,” Albert said, “I read your letter.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Yeah, I think you should write him back.”

  Glenna nodded, “I will. I have to.”

  “Get some rest.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and headed down the hall while Glenna drifted off to sleep.

  The Red Chameleon

  Dear Robert

  Dear Dad

  Robert.

  Yeah, that’s good.

  It’s good to hear from you, finally.

  Ugh.

  Glenna tossed the paper into the pile of other crumbled letters. She buried her hands in her head and sighed. She had been trying to write the letter since she had gotten off work. She was three hours in and had nothing to show for it.

  Why was this so hard?

  “Going that well, huh?”

  “Heh. I’ve been at this for a week, now.”

  “He left his number. Maybe call?”

  “As hard as making a phone call is, I’ve tried. It goes straight to voicemail. He tries to call back but service isn’t so great in the boonies.”

  “You text him?”

  “He’s like, sixty years old.”

  “My grandma is eighty-seven and sends me memes.”