Fiddleback 2

by Jeff Vrolyks

  Chapter Eight

  The first evening of Eddie’s residency at the Stoddard farm, Timothy entered the barn after debating himself whether or not he should knock—he decided on not. The two lamps were shining yellow light dully in the loft; thick shadows pervaded the lower windowless barn. The dry musky scent of hay was a welcome one to him. It had been years since it had been used to board horses. Since the stable’s construction decades ago, the barn acted as an overflow in the event of the stable being at capacity. This was rarely the case, as fewer and fewer people in the region either owned horses or enjoyed the option of paying others to care for and shelter them. Now the barn was both an apartment for a single farm-hand and storage, primarily hay—one stall housed totes of olives. In the corner of the barn was a small bathroom that Phillip had constructed himself twenty or so years ago, and has since made renovations to. It wasn’t much, but it had a shower with hot water and a sink and toilet.

  “Yo, Eddie? You up there?”

  Eddie appeared at the railing, leaned his elbows on it and said, “What’s up, my man?”

  What little worry Timothy had over his impetuous entry into his new friend’s living quarters was assuaged by Eddie’s congeniality, his warm expression and tone. He could hardly believe he had a friend such as Eddie. Eddie, who undoubtedly was once a popular boy in school, dated cheerleaders, and chose who to befriend instead of taking who he could get, like Timothy always had. What a depressing thought, Timothy considered. He would never relate to ‘the cool crowd’, could scarcely imagine what it must be like to enjoy that circumstance, which befalls almost exclusively the good looking and charismatic—occasionally the wealthy. He hoped against hope that Eddie would become a close friend of his, one that would last forever and have nothing to do with their employer-employee dynamic.

  “Got a few minutes?” Timothy asked.

  “Sure. Should I come down or do you want to come up?”

  “I’ll come up, if you don’t mind.”

  He crossed the barn, the few dark empty stalls, ascended the fixed step-ladder to the loft and surveyed the arrangements. There was a single mattress, a dresser with a small TV, a hot-plate, and microwave, a radio-clock, a mini-fridge, two chairs and a coffee table before them, a rudimentary closet that was constructed as an afterthought, and a low angular ceiling, elevating toward the railing. It was precisely how it had been when Jason lived there. On second glance, he saw that there was one thing new and it was standing on the dresser beside the TV: a small jade figurine of a creepy little man.

  Eddie bowed dramatically and gestured him to take a seat in one of the two chairs. Timothy humored and took the farthest chair; Eddie repositioned his chair to be nearer Timothy, sat down.

  “How do you like it so far?” Timothy asked. “Comfortable enough?”

  “It’s perfect. I never would have guessed I’d have a job the same day I got to California. It really is the land of milk and honey. Thanks again for everything, you’re a lifesaver. A true friend.”

  Did he mean that? Could their relationship evolve so quickly? Or maybe it was a gratuitous remark. A charitable offering. “No, Eddie, thank you. You’re a Godsend. That’s what my grandparents said, and I agree. Tomorrow morning I’ll show you how to pick olives. Not that you couldn’t do it without my instruction, but I’ll show you how to tell if they’re ready to be plucked, the nets we use, where and how to store them and all that. There isn’t much to it. It’s kind of boring, really. It helps if you get an iPod, makes the time go by faster. Also we have a tractor. I’ll show you how to operate it; it’s a little finicky sometimes.”

  “Sounds good. Hey, when do you think your grandparents will let me use their car?”

  “Funny you should mention that. That’s one of the reasons why I stopped by. They agreed to start looking for a car tomorrow. They’re very prudent with money, so they’ll be shopping around a while before they buy one, I’m sure. They’ll probably comb through the papers, visit a dozen dealerships at least. I’d guess within a week they should have a new used-car.”

  Eddie grimaced a little. “That long, huh?”

  “Did you need transportation before that? I can give you a ride. Or feel free to use my car if you want. You have a license, right?”

  Eddie’s brow arched. “You’d do that for me? You’d let a near-stranger borrow your car?”

  “Not a stranger. You work for us now, you’re like family. That’s just how we are here; I hope it doesn’t creep you out. And my grandparents seem to really like you, sense you are a good person. And so do I.”

  “It’s touching, Timothy. Really, I’m humbled. Yes I have a license. I wanted to drive to the store tomorrow and buy some food, stock my fridge. And buy some little things like a new toothbrush. Now that I’ll have income coming in, I don’t have to hold back on my spending.”

  “Not a problem. But feel free to take food from the house. That’s part of the agreement: you can eat for free. I hope you like olives.” Timothy chuckled.

  Eddie smiled. “Very generous. I don’t mind eating olives and horse meat.”

  “Horse meat?” Timothy blurted.

  “I kid, I kid. I stopped eating horse,” Eddie said stolidly, “the meat give me the trots.”

  Timothy stared dubiously at his friend for a moment before bursting out in laughter. They both cracked up.

  Neither spoke again for a long moment. The laughter calmed down until what remained were matching smiles. You could hear the crickets serenading, and it reminded Eddie of home.

  “So Timothy,” Eddie said with a suggestive grin, “going to Millie’s again next Saturday?”

  Timothy blushed and looked away. “Probably.”

  “She’s there every Saturday at the same time, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long have you been watching her?”

  “More than a m-month now. It’s a little emb-barrassing to admit.”

  “Don’t be. How come you’re stuttering now? You weren’t a minute ago.”

  Timothy shrugged, but he knew why. After considering it a moment, Eddie had a pretty good guess why. “Thinking about Mae, is that it?”

  Timothy shrugged again, but then nodded once.

  “Now that you two have been acquainted, maybe next week you can share a booth with her. What do you think?”

  Timothy’s eyes doubled. “Share a t-t-table with her?” He shook his head adamantly. “She wouldn’t w-want that. No way would she want that.”

  “I bet she’d love your company. Why wouldn’t she? You’re a good looking cat. And you’re a nice guy. Don’t underestimate the allure of being a nice guy. Some chicks dig the bad boys, but those are the girls we don’t need anyway.”

  “That’s n-nice of you to say, but I bet you’d have a lot better luck with Mae than I would. You look like an athlete. Are you? Were you?”

  “I did play a little football last year, my senior year. I wouldn’t go for a girl my friend wanted. That ain’t cool. Besides, she’s a little young for me. I’m almost nineteen and she’s barely fifteen. You, on the other hand, are only a year older than her.”

  “Barely fifteen?” Timothy said confusedly.

  Eddie coughed into his hand and waved dismissively with the other. “That’s my guess, anyway. Maybe she’s older, who knows. Doesn’t she look barely fifteen to you?”

  Timothy sensed that it wasn’t a guess. “She looks older to me. You don’t know her… do you?”

  “Of course not. Like I said, I just came from Nebraska. I don’t know anyone here.”

  Timothy leaned back in the chair, kicked his legs out before him and sighed, reflected a moment. He glanced at the little relic or idol or whatever it was on the dresser. It was kind of creepy. Not much in the way of apartment adornments. Maybe there was a story behind it that Eddie would tell him someday.

  “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” Timothy said wistfully. “I mean it, the prettiest thing on earth. I think about her
all time. I wish I were more like you: had the gall to talk to her like you did. And to ask her out on a date.”

  “You just need a confidence booster. It’ll come, and soon, you’ll see.”

  Timothy obliged him with a nod, but didn’t believe it would be the case.

  “Phillip and Phyllis might be the nicest people on earth,” Eddie said. “You’re lucky to have them as your adopted parents.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I think it’s so cool that Phillip’s the kind of cat who’d marry a black woman. What are they, almost seventy?”

  “Yeah, almost. Sixty-eight. Grandpa is five days older than Grandma. Cool, huh?”

  “Yeah. They must have been total rebels to start an interracial relationship back in the day. How did they wind up together?”

  “Want to hear their story?”

  “Sure.”

  “Grandpa lived here with his folks back in the late fifties when he met Grandma. She’s the granddaughter of a couple house-servants that used to live in this very barn back when it was the Hunsacker farm, a long time ago. The Sotheby’s, her family was named. There’s a story I could tell you about her grandparents but I’ll save it for another time. It’s pretty crazy.

  “Grandpa said it was love at first sight. They began dating, even though Grandpa’s folks were against it, said that it was a sin for a white man to be with a black woman. Grandpa didn’t care, he continued to see her. Once his parents got to know Phyllis, they liked her. It’s hard not to, you know? She’s such a sweet lady, and I’m sure she was just as sweet in her youth. I saw pictures of them during that time: she was really pretty. They dated for only a few months before getting engaged. She got pregnant before their wedding, and they planned it so they’d be wed before she gave birth. This was now the early 60’s. You’ll remember from history class that this was the time that Martin Luther King Junior was marching for civil rights. It was a huge topic of the time, people having strong opinions either way. Tensions were high. Grandpa said that when people saw him and Grandma holding hands in public, some would approach them and actually shake their hands, say good for you and well-wishing and all that, and genuinely meant it. Others would say the opposite, start with the nigger-this and nigger-that. People who dislike blacks just cannot help but say the N-word, like it’s bottled up in them and they just leap at the chance to say it. And they say it with a kind of fervor, like it excites them in a dark way. I don’t understand that, do you?”

  He didn’t give Eddie a chance to answer.

  “Grandpa got in some fist-fights over it.” Timothy grinned proudly at his friend as he said, “Grandpa said he wouldn’t be half the brawler he was if he had chosen a white woman to settle down with; said that if he had met Grandma when he was younger, he probably would have been a golden-glove boxer.”

  Eddie laughed, then apologized for laughing.

  “As Grandma’s belly grew from the child inside of her, people opposing their union spat even uglier things at them. It got to be that my grandparents were scared for their unborn baby’s life. And they were right to be scared.” Timothy looked gravely at the floor. “The baby was never born.”

  Eddie’s lips thinned, eyes perfectly round; a glimmer of rage shone deep within them. “What happened?”

  “They were going for a walk one evening, hand in hand, and a truck driving by stopped. A couple people got out, and… well, things didn’t go so well for my Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Eddie gritted his teeth, clenched his fists.

  “She miscarried because of it. Both were beaten pretty badly. They didn’t let it stop their pursuit of love, though.”

  “Good,” Eddie said defiantly. “To hell with those assholes.”

  “They got married soon after, tried to conceive another child.” Timothy’s voice was now softer, and quavered. “But she couldn’t anymore. What they did to her, it—”

  “They raped her,” Eddie surmised.

  “That’s Grandpa’s biggest regret, that he couldn’t overpower those two guys. If he had, things would have turned out much differently. But I guess everything happens for a reason: had Grandpa beaten them up I probably wouldn’t be here right now. Not that it makes it all right… it just…”

  “Silver lining. I know what you mean.”

  “Anyway, what they did to her made it so she couldn’t have babies anymore. So they adopted a boy. Charles. They considered it a blessing in disguise, being that they found a child from mixed parents, black and white. Most people wouldn’t adopt a baby like that. He’d live in an orphanage till he was an adult, probably. He was just an infant when they took him in. They raised him, loved him like their own. When he turned eighteen in the late 80’s he joined the army, got orders overseas. Charles is a master sergeant now, helicopter crew-chief, stationed in Germany. He visits once a year still. He’s a really nice guy, you’d like him. Man, the stories he tells…”

  “How do you fit into the picture?”

  “I was eight years old, living in a foster home when they adopted me. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why they adopted me. They were nearly sixty. I suppose they were lonely, probably missed raising Charles. I don’t know. I doubt it was for free labor,” Timothy smiled measuredly, “because I was only eight and scrawny. Scrawnier than I am now, if you can believe that.”

  “Maybe they have so much love in their hearts that they needed another receptacle for it,” Eddie said and winked at Timothy. “And besides, I’m sure they want someone they love to take over the farm one day, and you’ll be that person.”

  “Yeah. Charles plans on living in Germany forever, loves it out there. So you’re probably right.”

  “Plus when Phillip is too old to take care of Phyllis, you can do that. You said he has Alzheimer’s, so maybe it won’t be too long from now.”

  Timothy nodded solemnly.

  “Actually, she’ll be taking care of him,” Eddie considered, “not vice-versa. Poor Phyllis. It can’t be easy, caring for a soul mate who will eventually forget who you are.”

  “You know what scares me? What if when Grandpa loses all his memory, and Grandma enters his room to care for him, what if he’s mean to her? Like assumes she’s just some black nurse caring for him and he resents her for it or something. I can’t imagine if he says some of the same racist epithets that he’s heard throughout his whole life, like a reanimation of someone else’s prejudices, not his own. If his mind is all but destroyed, who knows what he might say? I honestly think it would break Grandma’s heart and she’d just keel over dead from it.”

  Eddie reached over, put his hand on Timothy’s, squeezed it affectionately. “That won’t happen. No way in hell will that happen. He’s a good man, a beautiful soul. He’d treat her well because that’s who he is.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I can’t help but worry about it.” He looked over at Eddie and shook off his solemnity. “Well I’ll let you go for now. Normally we wouldn’t work tomorrow, being that it’s Sunday, but Grandpa thought it would be good for me to show you the ropes around the farm tomorrow, get you familiar with things. He’ll pay you time-and-a-half, being the Sabbath and all. We have breakfast at six-thirty. Come join us then, if you’d like.”